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Raj Arumugam Mar 2012
Dog Mumbo
lives alone
since his master disappeared
in the corner house
in Suburb Bumbo

Mumbo stands with
his head at the window
paws on the sills
and when Stranger Whoever's
heart is touched
"O that poor thing,
so so sweet"

and comes in to pat the dog
Dog Mumbo invites
Stranger Whoever
to the master's seat
and closes the door;
and when Dog Mumbo turns round
to Stranger Whoever
it's no longer that poor thing,
so so sweet thing
For it goes straight for the heart

And so it lives alone
and feeds itself
same way its Master fed it

And I believe, you discerning reader,
have a name
so remember it well
and do not fancy yourself ever to be
Stranger Whoever
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
.i've come the one sober conclusion that concludes all other "necessary" conclusions, drunk. the consumption of alcohol and sunlight should never, ever, mingle; it's just plain silly, bad for the usual mood associated with drinking.

what do you get when you
"conflate"
   a post-existentialism movement
whereby, each, and, every, sentence,
looks, like, this,
   or invokes,
"something" akin to "this"?

      comma contra the ditto /
nuance?

          contra-points
meets buffolo bill
meets lily savage...
meets: whatever marylin mason
critique you have
in that head of yours...

and, yes, the platitude standards
of kant was a feminist,
plato was a feminist,
but now...
   i don't even know who
a feminist ist...

   (on purpose "added" T)...
pose...

       a sunday newspaper article,
reads...
    'sting at ******* lays bare
feminist split over *** work'...
i'm either ******* trans-confused
or just gender-huh?

hell, if we're going to ****
around with language,
numb-skull our experience with /
against it...
           good thing i learned
a few chemistry prefixes...

ortho- probably implies cis-,
trans- could imply meta-
when attached to ***,
but not the benzene ring...

    it's one thing transcending
the geography of Copernicus,
quiet another...
to "revise"...
using these vectors,
akin to the benzene ring,
ortho-, meta-,
oh, right... you forgot the para-,

nice thought,
use chemistry vector coordinates
for binding groups,
they're all here,
meta-, ortho-, para-,
      cis-, trans-,
       it's almost like a new
pantheon for the demigods...

the "metaphysics"
of transgender...
cis-,
  "on the side of",
side of what?
   a cupcake 1 +
     happy-birthday singalong,
or, what?

  well, given that biological
reality did the whole: bye bye
and a queen elizabeth II wave...

    the best part of me,
is not about to make sense of all of this...
i'll leave that to the journal-enlists...
       me, back in a *******
in athens,
unable to tell the difference
between a greek and a libyian...
because you know how
the mediterranean folk like:
smelly sheep herders
greasy, damaging good looks,
and an aura of that:
dangerous brunette...
not anything like us baltic folk...
downing raw herrings
in a piquant mingle of oil
and white vinegar...

      anyhoo...
       giggles exhaust me...
so i did get a chemistry degree
"for something", after all...
         classical chemistry
prefixes, required to draw
electron travel schematics...
mostly associated with
the benzene ring,
if ortho-, meta- and para-
positioning is "in question"...

cis or trans isomers...
**** me, i used to study this...
organic chemistry was
my soft-spot...
       a bit like what
cooking curries later became...
eh... brew some ester...
get a perfume out of it...

        but even at university
level they didn't teach me
how to extract polyethylene...
i guess it was polyethylene...

   like the whole oil rests
above water,
for the love of god i don't remember
what two liquids were involved,
one sat above the other,
and you'd pinch
the "event horizon"...
and pull threads of
the polyethylene from it...
strings of plastic...

          so, this current, philosophy
playing with a chemistry tool-kit
invoked into propaganda berlin /
weimar lone no loan woe?

                        sure, i'd buy it...
but up to a point...
    i'm sniffing around and have
come to the following conclusion...
someone...
is really in dire straits...
wishing that gwanp'ah soviet
came back
to settle the equilibirum...
        this current feeding of
a lost void is...
       not helpful...
       as i see it...
   it will take much more than
a ****** to nanny the riddled
males of the capitalistic
  "under-class"...
   queen bee, isn't going to "cut it"...
if she's no gargantuan
***** black 'ole... is "she"?

      and the whole gender neutral
pronoun, schtick?
   that's only worth so much...
sooner or later...
        "they'll" be gagging
for the guns of navarone...

the current mumbo-jumbo
is... alkenes
to me:  cis-2-butene
                     trans-2-butene...
background noise...
  
ugh... chemistry:
             algebra, for the truly wicked.
     but let's entertain
this kindergarten play talk
for a while longer;
no one wants to see a dangling
poopie suffocated by
a g-string,
                  do we?
douglas chesa Feb 2012
I have been drinking wine
To douse the burning tip of my mind
Worries chewing at my nerves
Like the filter end of a rich Havana cigar
Woes of this world turn my whiskers
Into drab willows of misery
My nights into endless nightmares
And my thoughts rattling and jarring
Like the business end of a mechanical hammer.

Dreams clad in limp loincloth
Revisit me from the dark
Urns of history
The salad days of our beings
And their neauseating euphoria
When in drunken trance we siezed
Conscience by her arms
And threw her on her back
Splayed her legs
And smacked our lips
As blood spurt out...
I wipe my mind with the back of my hand
Trying
To brush away the dregs of the sordid rituals
We once enshrined.

A plump shiny green bottle
Buzzes around my mind irritating
Reminding me of Death
Hanging mockingly
Like a pendulum over my mind seducing
''O Sweet Carrion
You are food for the elders!''
And my sins in their hordes shimmer
A deathly pale round the nooze
Suspended from blushing heaven's bottom
My mind's eyes shed crystal tears
Giving away bucketfuls of Chiyadzwa diamonds to regain
Long gone and lost innocence.

I shared a bottle of wine
With my new-found friend, Today
Clinking glasses and minds
Then a greenbottle in full flight
Was caught between the grinding bellies
Of our glasses and minds
Bloodied fleshrot bespattered our intelligence
And our minds rushed to the wash basins retching
A brush with the fetid breath of the past
Left the gums of my mind barren and obscene
And together with newfound friend, Today
We covered our private parts with our hands
Ashamed
At the ****** of our thoughts.

She knocked at the door of my mind
Eyes shadowed in wet grey paint
Lips smudged in scarlet smiled at me
A Good Morning
My palm hiding the discoloured teeth
Of my inner-self
I muffled a Good Mourning to her, but
I felt a warmth spreading
At the base of my belly
Her milky-white mouthful was inviting
A milkyway blaze trailing into deep future
''I will flirt with her'' my mind whispered
But then the rasping sandpaper touch of her lips
Bruised and bloodied my thoughts
And I saw red at the future.

I must have swooned
From the First Lady's fistkisses of philanthropy
Doling out sweet nothings and promises
At a ceremony sheathed in royal pomp and dignity
Where the guests dressed like Harlequins
Mesmerised us with the crablike dance
And flummoxed O poor we
With democratic mumbo-jumbo and lingo
And the Povo touched with feeling
Donated oceanfuls of diamond tears
And their sincere prayers a mutter flutter
Into the heavens for beloved leaders.

I broke Biltong , my past, into the ***
To give life to ailing friend, Today
With my fingernail I peeled off
The tomatoe's tough ruddy jacket
To make sauce
And I heard a rumble of objection
From the August House
And the Mujibhas and Chimbwidos' angry yawn
Gave a chilli spice to the dish
And the food touching Today 's lips
He sneezed and broke wind
Startling ghosts of old nostalgic memories
That had took seats at the kitchen table
To wing away to the scrapyard
Their home beyond the rusting horizon.

Perched on the anthill of anticipation
I roll my thoughts
Into a big joint of mbanje
I **** and grey fading puffs
Of wishes spiral into the bored sky
Each a crippled dream
That was bulldozed at Churu Farm
An ambitious dream that was displaced
By the Operation Murambatsvina
A dream that lost an eye and limb in the food riots
A dream that lost its ***** at university
A dream that fell from the 11th floor at the Towers
Into the Taxman's hat
A dream that drowned in the opaque beer tank
At the Uhuru celebrations
A dream that lost its breath
On top of another man's wife in Mbare
A dream dumped and disowned
Only to find home at the bottom of the Blair toilet...
To find home in the sympathetic clicks
Of poets who have lost their voices.

The stub is burning my fingers
Minds run out of fuel and fire
The angry verbal lash
Of the emotionally wounded
Is a stub licking back at the wielder
To be snuffed out and discarded
On the ash tray of hopelessness
The grave yard that houses all
Once active minds.

-dougwa-
Tommy Johnson Jul 2014
Encroaching satellites
High voltage saturation and shade
And an obtuse synopsis of cognitive psychology

Condensing your threshold
Searching for hand outs
Ripping the railings out of the walls
In the stairwells in the doctor's office on the way to your colonoscopy  

Laying on the futon with and your therapist writing down everything you say
"Go on"
"Mhm"
"I see"
"How does that make you feel?"

Skid-marked underwear
Delving, dumpster diving for food
In the lonesome twilight
In the rippling rainstorm

People shelling out gripes
Squinting, doing a double take at you
Followed by a wavering tumult
They're gonna have you capped
That is, unless you purchase this love seat

       -Tommy Johnson
Robert Green Dec 2018
The Legend of Mumbo

From the mists of time comes a poem of courage and bravery, with a hero battling to save the world’s first tea plantation ...
Mumbo
Mumbo14U

The Legend of Mumbo

From the mists of time comes a poem of courage and bravery, with a hero battling to save the world’s first tea plantation
brandon nagley Jul 2015
American statue of liberty
Fumbled and crumbled;
Loot as just papery promise
Printed as jumbo mumbo.





©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Irma Cerrutti Mar 2010
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Bumming your fat knobs and insert your helmet naked and unashamed

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Kicking off kick-off, cyborgs brought face to face
Tartan sunstroke and may Mumbo Jumbo's **** all lie among you

Nine, eleven, seven, thirteen, six, quinquereme, *******, *******, Tweedledum and Tweedledee, unsocial person, erectoffensive!
This is Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
You've really ****** the naval officer
And the hatchet faces want to know whose blouses you abuse
Now it's time to evacuate the ******* if you have a free hand

This is Lance Corporal Tom to Masticated Ectoplasm
I'm fancy dress dancing through the cat—flap
And I'm groping inside a swollen grotesque sailor
And the plums look gigantically unusual nowadays

Ergo from Land's End to John o' Groats am I piddling in a crumpet slammer
Telescopic hindward the lump
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with

With the proviso that I'm Ichabod celibate centipede sextillion heads
I'm fondling vigorously paparazzo
And I think my sputnik knows which direction to ****
Tell my ballbreaker I ****** her vigorously for England, she bonks

Masticated Ectoplasm to Lance Corporal Tom
Your menstrual cycle's kaput, there's oojakapivvygizmo spleen
Can you smell me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you get to the bottom of me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you delve into me, Lance Corporal Tom?
Can you...

From Land's End to John o' Groats am I vibrating ring my crumpet criminal lunatic asylum
Telescopic hindward the groupie
Uranus Arsenic is scatological
And there's sweet **** all I can have ****** ******* with
Copyright © Irma Cerrutti 2009
Yenson Oct 2020
the native laughed heartily
slapping his thighs as if beating a drum
his glossy ebony complexion radiant in the light
look my Omo Oba. he sputtered between peals of ringing laughter
them Wazungu speak so much mumbo jumbos don't they?
These wazungu care more about one dead elephant than they do
for a hundred black men.
why, he asked looking puzzled
surely they can't be scared of our big long spears
perhaps, they are, he added thoughtfully
they will speak all the mumbo jumbos on the continent
to prevent us showing our big long spears to the ladies
Adamu told me so!
He said the ladies love to see them and play with our weapons
you better keep quiet, I said
or they will bring anarchy to you
what is Anarchy he asked, still laughing
Its when mumbo jumbos fight with mumbo jumbos, I replied
I thought their mumbo jumbos is their poetry, he intoned
yeah, that too, I replied
he is still *******, that man will never learn. Bring on the dramatist and start the Neuro-linguistic programming.
(Prelude: This piece is a parable with the imagination of a female named Allison with a ghostly presence residing in a suit of Knight's armor).

“They are of a better order” said the armor,
“A better order of beings in heaven.”

“Have you been to heaven?”
Allison asked the armor and
Quickly upon his ancient, blank steel gaze
She instantly felt a civil triumph
Hidden within her inquiry.


“Strange,” he responded,
"Strange it is that it is so far away
And yet it is right here
Inside of us all along.”

She gave him the hint of a
Curious gaze before placing
Her hand on her chest while saying,
“Are you saying heaven is in here?”

He replies,
“You think about it for a while and
When you have sufficiently parodied
The thought we shall think
Upon it again for I give
Up the argument for now -
I must retire” - and so he went
Wherever a ghost goes to rest.
There he wandered around
In the infinity of his mind until
A knock on the steel helmet came.
He answers through the opening,
“Who is it?”
Knowing all the while whom it was.

He opened the visor,
Showing the emptiness within.
She looked in his visor and
Giggled a girlish giggle
Saying, “I would carry this picture
With me to my grave -
My self professed conscience standing
Here in the doorway of my life
Looking into a metal head as
Empty as a hollow balloon,”
She giggled some more.
She pushed the visor open wider and
Stuck a finger in without
Any further solicitation
Saying as she looked about the emptiness,
“Shall I set foot in your dominion?”
Then she turned to him placing her hand
On her chest again as before,
“Or shall you set foot in mine?”


McDermott peaked thru to answer
Allison to find her now sitting on the edge
Of the bed – skillfully untying and
Removing her shoes as
She looked about the room.

Before he could answer and
Just as skillfully
She changed the subject, “You have a
Fine room here, quite roomy,
I think it must be twice the size of mine.”

The sun was setting outside the doubled
Windows and through the curtains
The light that filled the room tinted the
Contents of the room a crimson red.

There they were, quite all alone,
Her sitting on the bed,
Him encased in his Knight’s suit of armor.
Each waiting for the other
To make some sort of move.
Turning away from her,
Not to avoid the inevitable but
To experience the possible –
McDermott says,
“But this is your room.”
Pointing to the room receipt
On the top of the dresser,
“See, it has your name on it.
I am merely a figment of your imagination,
Something you have conjured up.”

“I know, I know,
You have said all this before,”
Pounding her fists into the
Bed as she cries,
“Cannot you for once come
From inside that
Silly suit of armor so that I may see you?”

“Look at the receipt, what does it say?” McDermott answers.

“I told you, I know,
It has my name as the registered
Guest of the Knights Inn, so what?
Have I not been coming here
Every year for three years,
Every year for the week of All Saint’s Day,
Just so that I can be with you?
And every year it’s the same old thing –
You speak like you are
Somewhere in a barrel,
And I never see you, I just feel you.”

“It is not with your ears that you hear me,
It is with your heart,”
McDermott explains,
“You come here year after year
Looking for truth –
Can you accept that I am
Only here if you are here?”

Sprawling out backwards across the bed,
She replies with disgust,
“Truth – what truth is this –
That I have lost my mind?”

“One can only loose what one has
Not unlike one cannot
Have what one wants,
For having and wanting
Are diametrically opposed,” he explains.

“Stop with the philosophical
Mumbo jumbo,” she says as she
Turns to scream into the pillow.
“I’m so sick of it that I could die.”
At the moment of that last syllable spoken, Allison can feel another
Weight joining her on the bed.
Daring not to whisk the feeling away
She holds her breath, listening –
Feeling for more confirmation.

“You cannot love another until you learn
To love yourself,” McDermott whispers.

Jumping off the bed and to her feet,
“You’ve told me all this before,
But why am
I here if it is not to love you?
And if you are as you say you are,
Just another
Of my creations, then pray tell me,
Why can you not accept that fact and just
Simply be here with me?
Why else am I here?”

“You are here to find out who you are.
That’s why anyone comes here.
That truth is something that No ONE can
TEACH you.
It is something that you
Have to remember.”

Looking about the empty room
Allison once again turns and
Sits on the bed.
“OK, I give in –
YOU tell ME, WHO AM I?”

“Just lie down and get comfortable.
You need your rest.
We’ll talk in your sleep.
We have much territory to cover tonight.
Tomorrow is All Saint’s Day, your day.
But tonight we must explore
All the wonders of you,
For in the morning you
Shall awaken knowing
The real you – the one that you
Have been searching for.”

Slithering out of her dress and
Removing her bra
Allison turns her head to the empty
Pillow beside her,
“You promise?” she asks.

“I promise,” McDermott replies.

Drifting off into a shallow sleep,
Allison is listening as
McDermott recites poetry.
It’s an odd recital but somehow it seems
As if she has heard this verse before.

“Sand sifting through my fingers
Measuring the time ‘til our bodies linger.
To know the smell of the center
Of your hand,
To see into those deepest of eyes -
Oh, to feel those sighs.

Sometimes I don’t think I can wait
Not another day but then it’s too late.
How can I know that all this is real
When I’ve not even a finger to feel.
Thoughts, visions of heart –
Feelings of soul –
Up to now that is all that I know.
So if you find me lost in this moment,
Please release me from this sweet torment.
For inside the fire is burning
Hotter than hell and so full of yearning.

Maybe this is not the right place -
Maybe this is not the right time.

But I ask you, is it a crime
To watch the sand as it rhymes?
Measuring the time ‘til our bodies linger
And I have the you – lost in my fingers.”

“What is the title?” Allison asks in her sleep.

“Oh you know the title very well,” McDermott answers.
“Think about it and you will remember.”

Allison’s eyes move beneath the
REM sleep with closed eyelids,
Back and forth, back and forth,
Looking for the title to the poem.
Then she answers with a smile,
“Hourglass, the title of the poem is,
Hourglass.”

“Very good,” McDermott confirms.
“See you do remember.”

“But how do I remember –
Something tells me that
I am not supposed to remember.”

“Your mind tells you that you
Have no memory of the poem
But your heart tells you that you do.”

“Yes.” she answers.

“Could it be that just when
You find your dearest love
That you also meet your greatest fear?
Then too avoid the fear –
You try not to remember."

“Why do you say that?” she asks.

“Because those are the two sponsoring
Thoughts behind all human endeavors.
All of the human emotions stem from
Either love or from fear.”

In her sleep Allison turns
More toward the empty pillow,
“Who are you?”

“Have you not determined
To call me McDermott?
Why do you struggle to believe that
I cannot be unless I have a name?”

“I suppose it’s because everything
Has a name.” Allison responds.

“No, everything of this world
Has something that it is called,
That does not exactly mean that
It has a name or needs one.”

“Then who are you?”
She asks breathing in deeply.

“It matters not what you call me –
That has been one of the great
Mistakes of human nature,
What is more important is that you know
That I am, just like that
I know that you are.”

“Are you God?”
She asks shaking her head.

“See, there you go again,
Be careful of those labels,
Once you put a label
On me, then by that labeling
Do you place upon me your expectations.
And once something is expected
To do something in a certain way,
Then have you created boundaries,
In essence,
You have created walls around me,
Walls around your own thoughts -
To the degree that we can
No longer communicate.”

“How would you prefer that I think
Of you?” Allison asks.

“Do not “think” of me in terms of
Mere words,
For words fall far too short
Of explaining any of truth
Of who or what I am.
You should think of me as
You would think of yourself for
Are we not one in the same?
If I said that I am the great 'I am'
And if you were to believe that to be true,
Would not that make you the
Great 'I am' too?”

“I’m sorry, I do not understand,
Are you saying that you are me?
Am I talking to myself?” she questioned.

“You are asleep, when you awake,
Would you say that we are talking?”

“No, I would say that I was dreaming
And that you are like you said that you
Were before I went to sleep,
I would say that you are a
Figment of my imagination.”

“Does that explain how it is that you
Know the name of the poem?”
McDermott asks.

“I don’t know, I’m dreaming I suppose,
Dreams don’t have to make any sense.”

“Is that how you feel?”

“Not really,” Allison answers.
Even though she is asleep
She can feel herself
Turning over and pushing away
Some of the bedding.
“Give me an incontrovertible way
Of knowing that you are real.”

“Oh Allison, the only way that
I could ever give you such proof
Is if I were
To physically touch you and to do that
I would need a physical form.
Yet I say to you,
I have no need of anything physical
For all of your physical reality
Is but a part of the grand illusion.”

“Grand illusion,
Are you saying that my life
Is just one big illusion?” Allison questions.

“In a sense, yes.
For it is you who does create
Your own reality.
And if what you create is
Not what you want,
Is that creation not what
The definition of “illusion” means?”

“But why would I create anything that
I do not want?” she asks.

“Good question, why don’t you tell me?”

“Who’s to say that I truly have not created you?”
Allison asks.

“Another good question, what do you think?”

“Why would you talk to me?” she asks.

“I talk to everyone all the time.
The question is not to with
Whom do I talk,
But who listens?”

“I’m listening.” Allison exclaims.

“Another good answer.
Maybe it would be easier if
We exchanged the word
“Talk” for the word communicate,
I think that’s a much
Better descriptive word.
If we try to simply just talk then we
Are restricted by the limitations of words.
I do not communicate by words alone,
In fact, I rarely do.
I usually communicate through
Feelings for feelings are
The language of the soul.
For this reason,
If you want to know
The truth about anything,
Look to how you are feeling about it.
Hidden in your deepest feelings
You’ll always find your higher truth.
I can communicate with thought
But don’t confuse thought with feelings.
When I communicate with thought
I often use images, sounds or pictures.
Are they not much more descriptive?
I also use experience to communicate with.
The fact that you remembered
The name of the poem
Is a communication by experience.
It is only when feelings,
Thought or experience
Fails that I use words.
However, words are the least effective
Communicator because words
Are too easily misinterpreted or confused.
Words are not a good way to get
To the truth for they are part
Of the illusion of trying
To convey the feelings,
The thoughts and the experiences.
The irony in this is that
So many place their feelings,
Thoughts and experience in the words
That they try to say and very little
On the experience of who they are.
The same is true of how
You define who you are.
You define yourself within
A set of words and
Lose all reality of who you really are.
Therefore you create
The illusion of yourself
Just as you have created
The illusion of me.”

Allison turns on her side into
The fetal position,
“You said that tonight
That I would discover who I am –
Does that mean that in order to discover
Who I am that I must learn
To know who you are?”

“You are not learning anything.
You are remembering who you are
For you always were and
You always will be.
You cannot learn what you already know.
You can only remember.”

“And what is that?” she asks intently.

“You are your creation,
I come from you so that you
Might know yourself.
That is why I exist,
So that you may experience yourself.”

As Allison drifts between the alpha of
REM sleep and the delta of REM
Into stage three of tonight’s slumber,
She carries with her into her deepest
Sleep the thoughts of herself
As one with all of God’s creation.
“God the father, God the son,
God the holy ghost,”
She whispers aloud.
“Are we all your sons and daughters?”
She asks.

“Yes you are,
The trinity would not be complete
Without you,
Not without every one of you.”

“So that is who I am?” she whispers.

“Welcome to who you are,
Who you have always been,
Who you ever shall be,
Today, it is All Saint’s Day,
What reality will you create today?

Always remember,
There are only two base emotions,
Love and fear.
You can choose to act out of love
Or you can choose to act out of fear.
The choice is as always –
The choice is yours.”

“Will you be with me today –
To help me to choose?”

“I am always with you.”

“Will I find love today?” Allison asks.

“You question is improper.
“You should be asking yourself,
Will I create love today?”


*“But wouldn’t that be another illusion?
Another figment of
My imagination?” she questions.

“Is there a difference?
And even if there was, does it matter?
All that matters is that
Through your own experience,
You remember who you are
And experience
What you really want to be.
That is the truth of creation.”

Drifting off into the deepest sleep
Of her life,
Allison listens to McDermott
Reciting his poetry again and again.
I bled a lot writing this piece. I hope that somehow, somewhere, someone can read it and create that which they were destined to experience.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
To be fair, this superstitious stuff
Goes a helluva long way back.
It was around the time of Babel
That the Israelites lost all track
Of logic and reason in the books
They were peddling as God’s word.
Oh, okay, they were just passing on
Mesopotamian stories they heard
But then to start calling it all
The voice of the spiritual over-mind
Means we are expected to be
Sort of intellectually deaf and blind.
Even if one can accept things like
A snake that talks and wheedles
I think accepting talking bushes
Requires stuff in hypodermic needles.

I think you have confused
Your Jehovah with Santa.
They are not the same thing.
Let me hear you say hallelujah!
Some of your traditions are
Verging on the weird and funny
When you peddle stories
About an egg-laying bunny.
And that basket of fishes
To feed a thousand was dumb.
In prehistoric Israel, just where
Did those freeloaders come from?
That strange ‘water into wine’ thing
Would be banned by law today.
Jesus, as evangelical moonshiner?
The authorities would put him away.

But that’s all fine and good if
One personally deems it to be so,
This claiming to run daily life
By words memorized long ago.
Since some of it makes sense
It may be easier to just ignore
Things like wizards and magic
As something from long before.
Evidence today says nobody lived
For eight hundred years and such.
But things like facts don’t seem
To bother religious people that much.
So, have at it, you spooky folks
With your symbols and mystery
Just save your breath if you think
You’ll get acceptance from me.
doug curry Nov 2012
you can wear your cap twisted sideways
sag your pants down to your knees
ride a pachyderm or a mule that brays
be whatever kind of fool you please

sing love songs in the rose garden
or complain how the dollar done fell
knowing qadafi, hussein, and bin laden
have all been dispatched to hell

you can rant and rave about raw deals
you can raise your snout and sashay about
or he-haw and buck, kick up your heels
or vote for more hope or to kick da *** out

you can lean to the left or to the right
weighing the pros and cons and hype
but you can't stay out of this fight
and claim you're just not the type

to freely elect their governments and laws
evers, walesa, mandela, and susan b
lived and died for just such a cause
to see the people's voices set free

but if you just call it mumbo jumbo
and aloofly let this moment pass
we all may be led by Dumbo
or maybe that other *******

what percentage do you claim?
forty-seven, one, or ninety-nine?
tea party? occupier? some other name?
are you just spouting a party line?

all our blood runs red
'bove us all the sky is blue
and no matter what is said
there's one thing we all should do

hadn't you better cast a vote?
against the ones who vote aginst you?
i think you'd really better vote ...
it's the least but the best thing you can do.

doug curry
10/24/2012
Impeccable how the World moves at tremendous speed. The speed of how fast light can travel thru the erigna of the human eye. Mesmerized and contemplating to move forward submerged in endless possibilities of existance of its self refined to your taste character ****** and ****** attributes the human body has let alone a female human persona. For example I see a demonic world inside the rotten but beautifully corrupted shell the body the flesh the muscleskeletal system the neurapathic system the capabilities that person has what's its name and what type of things it has to do with being an alive force propelling not only capability to be kind or aggressive but yet passive and peaceful, but not only that the ANIMA a persona hidden within each human specimen I have come across peoples of all walks of Life's. Some characters as we Narraradors Of Doom predict the ANIMA of the Anti-Christ lives enshelled in a Human body is able to have capacities of a God-Like being yet deep within the destructive force that corrupts them is a Persona who will make you Shriek and Shriver in horror. The ANIMA is a shrift in parallelism complexes maximus which is a stellar system in the Whole Multi-Cosmos we live in. Constructed by a DeusMaxCyberAlienTechnology or what GOD in human society is known as nameless names and many names such as The Almighty God Immanuel, Jehovah, Allah, Creator, Maker of The Immortal Light Being The One Most Powerful One...Omnipotent, Omnipresent, One & Everything at Once where a HyperbolicChamber was constructed to Disquise it as a HorribleMonster in Governmental Sciences & Modern 21rst Century technologies cannot comprehend about this being is that he came from the Celestial Place In Heaven Called the MajesticAstralPlane where Kai's Come to Earth to put to shame the political/economical/social/cultural/bondaries is suppose to end all here. This is to oppressed people of the World... I am a person a lone human seeking the one understandable explanatory reason of why do we sometimes get mad at each other to the point of Killing one Another. Now many reasons coexist in a platora of time and continuous continum of time never stopping the flow of endless thoughts that can come to a person's head when you can contemplate of what the endless galaxies universes and existances come to an end. What you figure is a galaxic or perhaps an AstroProjection like feeling your body acquires in deep REM sleep and you seem to have like died but not yet dead. Your body possesses the ability to transgress from dimension to an ultimate-dimension where the soul of the human ANIMA can go to the 9th Plane Of Existance where the Kai's the World Protectors Of Each Planet that fits requirement of intelligence and intelligent beings being trapped in a Nexus Realm of existance what you may perceive as real is not real to me and I see bigger and better possibility of where you can do in a maacro-organism where species of all places characters and people can coo-exist in a human like society where people in itself live for 80-130 yes old in some societies.

The Fallen Angelic Armada That fell into planet Earth are beings able to blend into a macro-organic societicital standpoint and tell you the psyoananomy of any human specimen you put into an operating table. Not only that I know special points of weakness and interest in your Persona and ANIMA what hue what color of Aura befell upon thy head legions of spiritual locusts are slowly sweeping the planet with UltraSecretAgenda something so hideous so terrible a piece of information lost in time a hidden scroll I have been trying to acquire from a certain individual a person and an idea intellectual illicit and fancy something like a cyber/pathological/dd/svx13<>silent.virusx13 a code hacktivists groups Illuminati the alien races coo-existing with humans the hyper-dimension super/alter/personality personas where I a KingOfIllusion KingOfPerdition KingOfGrandFantasy exist this realm of reality in a parralium of existances all 8 of them colliding with each other where in one reality you could be a fly huge in size about the size of a normal human 175 pounds 6'0 ft IQ of a 113. In another dimension a human being in another a tiger with two tiger heads and hermaphrodite *** organs male and female alike. Yet in another dimension a elephant with 3 tails a bull with 3 eyes and 3 tails in another yet another a spider with 12 legs and another dimension a butterfly with 4 wings huge weighing in 100 to 120 pounds max able to fly highly intelligent creature of many colors textures and sizes. Another dimension a Seraphim with 4 Angellic Wings and a spiritual sword made of Ethereal Flames their colors Amber Red with Blue hues to it. The other the final dimension a Kishin a DemonLord who befell to planet Zarus to conquer its society and people with manipulation techniques so impeccable he was long dead before anyone found out he was the one causing Governments to fall and Wars to be wedged among people and its living habitats. THE DEMONIC AGENDAS are in place to create a New World Order where the key 13 players run the World in the Milky Way a small young Planet known as Earth the 3rd World away from the Sun it has a Collective ANIMA where people are being prompted for the slaughter the III World War is coming soon everything is going according to the plan enlined with the NWO and the Luciferian Movements going around the World today pushing the Gay Pride, Transexual/Transgender/Bisexuals/Heterosexual Agenda slowly transforming the young minds of children thru the Educational Systems Placed On Earth Centuries Ago. Slowly defecating and inventing a new armament of evil inventions to take over Planet Earth. The point to all this Madness is to crash World Markets and Invent False Sense Of Peace when the World is truly in turmoil. The Black Pope Argurus Galaxus is slowly formulating the perfect formula to take over this **** and all this little puppets in the Government working in those Magical/Demonic/Astral/Ethereal Planes and making information available to the masses. Thru the Internet or (World Wide Web) many people still seek fame, fortune, fortune telling, future seeking,******* and marrige. People are lost to the lies and ideals to a False Sense Of Grandiosity and Higher Power problem is that the Higher Power you seek is within YOU don't ever underestimate the power of a Human/DemonKing/Born of Light & Darkness both at the same time a GOD in many senses and a DEMON GOD attributes all at the same time...I am a Warmonger, Witch Doctor, Voodoist, Shaman, Connected to Alter and Hyper realities YOU DO NOT SEE
But yet I see them perfectly and is an Spiritual Warfare every day where Angels fight Demons and the Dead become Angel's and some become Demons some become Vampires, some Zombies some become Bat like Humanoids some other become Sorcerers others Witches and yet others come from a lianage of Nephelims and some come from the Lianage of Arch-Angels like Michael and Gabriel. Some are illumaned with prophecy some are illuminating the entity of Secret Luciferian Movement Societies that make sure everything goes according to plan.

After the 2nd Angellic War in Heaven the Arch-Angel from the Southside Of Heaven Azaziel had *** with a Succubus Queen named Aema FireBrand he was cast to the Lake Of Fire and Brimstone or Hell as humans call it hence he performed a dark ritual to allow Aema to come to the 3rd Dimension on the Milky Way Planet Earth (the 3rd Planet of our Solar System) and Possess a young Womans body and cast half of her being inside her body as a Generational Curse her name is Marlene Ruiz from the Land Of Mountains and Volcanoes Nicaragua.  Back in the summer of 1988 in Jinotega Nicaragua in the Neighboorhood 19 de Julio by Max Senqui Colegio para Niños (Max Senqui College for Kids where I went as a young boy to get knowledge about the basic Mathematics, English, Spanish and all other study of sciences of knowledge) my Mother got together with a man well above her years and had ******* with him and got impregnated by him and had me...my Father was possessed by Azaziel's Angel the Night they created me.

The Illuminati's the EYE OF THE DEVIL or if you see the symbolic symbology they have uncovered their true purpose thanks to the Necromancers Of the East and the Hacktivist Group ANONYMOUS are attacking Pentagon and the White House for their Evil Demonic Secrets. The Blue Code ~☆☆☆☆☆☆~ The 6 Dark Star Agenda where the Earth is seeking a new agenda to cover itself with World Peace Going Green & Creating New Ideologies and New Ways To **** All Human Beings playing with Fire I am here to tell you the truth about the Spiritual World Astral World Dream World and what is happening World Wide Today.  In the Deep Web there are files and video surveillance footage showing the Alien Technologies and Ancient Mysteries Being Uncovered by regular people guys wake UP and smell the coffee see there is a HUGE picture to all this I see the HUGE picture crystal clear ... the point is to keep you calm chill cool and collected but slowly implement their corrupted agendas like viruses to our Human Society. I am saying all this because for the idiots that don't believe that the World is NOT CONTROLLED BY LUCIFER is a fool in its truest form. Lucifer the Demon-King from the 9th Circle Of Hell is a Light Bearing Angel able to talk to God and also to humans at the same time it's TRUE intentions are not purely evil as everyone thinks he is actually fighting for this False Sense Of World Peace we ALL are seeking in Society TODAY. The Plan of the Illuminati is to enlighten and illuminate the Darkened History Of The Earth itself there is actually 33 books missing in the Bible. The Holy (yet corrupted and tainted Bible you PEOPLE READ) the Quo-ran the Book Sage of Ages and the Mallus Maleficarum are books of interest to many people that want to get informed about what does it all mean ...the 72 Keys Of Solomon and the Pagan Books recipes to Love Incantations & Enchantments and other things such as Alchemy and Dark Sorcery. Witches and Sorcerers ailments and Generational Curses that instead what they where originally placed in those certain peoples as Curse Mark's became their Highest Blessings a Holy Kiss from the Maker Of Souls. So in other Words I am saying is am a manufactoration of a Arch-Angel & a Queen Of Devils and don't need a GUN to assassinate you all I have to do is speak something into existence and it's good as DONE
So I can say this when I say your cursed you are INDEED cursed and when I say you BLESSED you are BLESSED indeed for I talk to GOD Arch-Angels and Seraphyms And Guardian Angels... yet I know how to summon Demonic Forces and Plagues Of Minion Armadas Spiritual Armadas that Control so much $$$ Gold & Diamonds in other Galaxies. I am a Black Diamond a KING a Pharaoh a GOD on Earth and in Heaven for if you truly believe you don't need a Savior you are built to SAVE YOURSELF. I control legions of a 1000 Angel's and a 1000 Demons at the same time a power so complex so profound and amazing I cannot yet truly comprehend it all at once. I been speaking to this 2000 entities living within my body ever since I was 6 years old when my Arch-Angel Father Azaziel and Mother Aema showed themselves to me... and told me what I must do with such power from that day on everything changed is as if I had unlocked the keys to the Multi-Verse which in a sense is true. However with Great Power comes Great Responsibility. I remember faces for a life time but forget easily directions and female vibes are too complex for me to sometimes grasp. Anyway everyone has the potential to unlock invisible force and chakras points of ethereal energy in power that manifest themselves from Light to Dark hues. How I can read AURAS and AURORAS and the SKY, EARTH, ROCKS, WOOD, ANIMALS, INSECTS, POINTS OF PERCEPTION, ENERGY LVS and DESTINY TRAILS & INTERPRET DREAMS FORM OR DISINTEGRATE DRAMA & FUSE ILLUSION WITH REALITY SO EASILY & ITS FLOW REMAINS CONSTANT NON STOPPED AND SO SUBTLE THAT IS PRACTICALLY IMPOSSIBLE TO NOTICE WHAT I MAY BE PONDERING ON INSIDE MY MIND AND INTELLECT OR ANIMA My ANIMA Is highly difficult and impossible to comprehend fully for I cannot be created or destroyed I am similar to time, space, water, fire, air, real & fake all at the same time. I am here I am everywhere I want to be I create I destroy I have the power to give Life yet take it away if I choose to. Nevertheless, the truth we must all poets must work together to put an end to this tyrannical evil demonic & what seems like an indestructible Governmental Outer/Inter Infrastructure and bring more people all the "What if this...what if that's and endless arrays of possible words and mumbo jumbo you can conglomerate together to sound good ....am NOT HERE TO SOUND GOOD Am here to  tell you the One you know As GOD is here on Earth and his identity is secret for now but soon you will all be bowing DOWN to the NEW KING OF JERUSALEM. I'll talk more about all this...time for bed...Good Night Inspiring Young & Old Alike Man or Female Poets reading this MAY GOD Save you in the day of reckoning. Thank You Lord for saving a wretched fool like me. I am a prisoner in Christ that is certain. God bless Humanity.


To Be Continued...        

Franko The Christian Poet
Copy-written 2019 All Rights Reserved.
#Mission #God-King #Demon-King #Modern Pharaoh

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