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 Dec 2016 Rickie Louis
w
23
 Dec 2016 Rickie Louis
w
23
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm trying
I'm tired
what of nature is eaten by the mouth of man,
      so too eats the genitalia of
woman with as much ferocious gluttonisation -
   no serpent of eden care more
for the reality that's bound to tempt the choice:
either know or be known -
     below the standard equator of the body
as the point of disembowelment and Cesarian birth...
   spewing toward a heap of two tonnes
of sardines with a stench that can't classify
**** for the scent of strawberries...
               proof of solipsism? a man sitting
on a toilet for an hour with a newspaper...
   disproof of solipsism? a man easing a **** out
on a crowded train... ****** expressions?
piquant... yonder! the lustless ******! or what
would be said when the gyroid was out of place
when anything concerning sine and cosine
      reflected the one plausible coordinate of
tangens... namely 0... so in whatever algebraic
form interweaving sine x with cosine z + + +...
you'd still get the tangens either side exponential,
and your own summary, bound to that
infamous biography of never reaching fame...
     and that myth of Atlantis and the serpent there?
  more like an octopus that fiddled and slobbered
the **** than said: of this fruit an addition
to your "natural" duality - to encourage your number,
replacing dualism with a dichotomy...
           rites of passage for the ceramically fainting skinned -
ivory and squint, then
           diddly-and-piglet-or-flamenco-skinned-squat -
wide-eyed... or listening to how the Bulgars settled
in Europe and became ethnically cleaned with
     neo-Cyrillic... or as some say: proto-Greek revisionism...
       some words are familial... i can actually attest them
a phonetic synonymous that's familiar to the ear...
but the little words... remain with origin bound,
rather intact... only nouns get ***** to assimilate...
it's the little uh huh and um and om and
      so many in between that never reach cleansing
a tongue fully...
                  to be said: kinda slavish,
             archaic ***... *** that also said:
Commodus was one of the 5 good emperors...
    and was falsely depicted in gladiator (2000)...
and the *** invented stirrups to shoot arrows with
while quickly moving and suggesting a Mongol to come
along with the perfected idea of that: and pure stink
   of forgotten hygiene... memorised by
        the inflamed library of Baghdad and the pyramid
                 of Iraqi skulls...
the Romans made use of the calvary by employing
only eunuchs in their ranks... well... given no
stirrups... you're bound to make scrambled eggs
   along the ping-pong gallop...
       could ever a modern woman become a Helen?
perhaps a yacht might sail... instead of a thousand worries
to contest her husband's pride: a thousand quid...
  but it would never be such a gesticulation for
making worth of a woman to discredit a man...
            Kant said: i'll marry, only if i marry what i am
already married to... which is a transcendence of
what a man usually is married to... a woman...
  a man can marry his work...
                  it's either:
a. arbeit macht frei... or it's
                                   b. frau macht knecht...
well... it's sad... does it matter whether it's a universal
truth that has no guiding concern for
particular applicability and therefore a non-statistical
verification that splinters off a pathos of
  idealism all too readily accepted?
          and slogans avoid the details, i.e.
a. work power free
                          work empowers toward a freedom...
     is that the irony of suggesting
                                 that the Nubians built the pyramids
    and weren't the original air-coolers with their
   duck-feather fans and that the Jews profited from this?
as in
          b. woman power slave
                   women empower toward slavery...
sure... patted on the back and constantly bridging
gaps and licking lesions of man's struggle...
                       work "sets you" free...
                      and in that "      " bubble you can also have:
sets your apart from...
       sets you against....
                                  settles... the notion of freedom...
                   sets freedom... against you...
                                     so many variations of slogan grammar...
      well, akin to the 20th century shogun snail whipping
you into: ya, mein herr...
                                   and of course, there are the lucky few
that sorta revel in what otherwise are told to do:
            let me shove that remote control up yer ***,
and i'll make it less painful... i'll smear some lard
around your **** and you start pampering a bottle
of johnson & johnson baby powder...
      for a quest into averting the extinction of snow.
The enchanted forest
It's trees glistening in the moonlight
Butterflies in the morning
Dragonfliesin the afternoon
And fireflies at night
The whole place glimmers with light
 Dec 2016 Rickie Louis
Cecelia
I don't want to belong to anyone,
not even myself.
-cc
~Possibly unfinished
"Use your words" you tell me, in an age where words are like cockroaches, invincible against time and indestructible once uttered.

What if I told you, when I look at your face I don't see words. The letters and syllables that love to flow out of me and fill every empty silence suddenly don't fit right in the space between us. You and words are like oil and water, not meant to share the same bowl and only used by those too impatient to wait to let their *** boil.

That's the thing with words and oil, once spilled you never really seem to clean every trace left behind. A greasy film coats the surface no matter how much water intends to purify it.  

But I can wait.

I know there is no rushing the tide while you wait on the shore the same way painting you with oily words won't hasten our journey. The heat of silence fits you so comfortably that I can't help but reach towards the fire when you say to me,

"use your words."
For the boy who tells me to use my words.
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