Sitting by this creek
It’s 10 p.m. on a Wednesday
School night
Our 6-pack of Bud Lit being
twisted within the twigs
dying grass rustled beneath the feet of us
Two young eager friends

This is what we do with our memories
Take photos from mind drips
Paint it on paper
Made from the years
“Good Times” carved in my walls
Our walls

Now this ain’t some,
“I’m gonna miss you so much!”
“Please call when you can!”,
*******.
Man you’ll be in my head
In my dreams
We’ll go outside
Pick up my old ball glove
Dust off the smoke
Although I was never that good
Man this is what we did

Childhood friends
Roommates in college
You’ll be my neighbor when I’m 45
And my roommate again at Timber Ridge Retirement Home
I’m looking forward to
Harassing the nurses with you

You’re my friend dude
I do have lots of friends
But you’re only one I ask advice from
I swear if I ever murdered someone
I’d ask you to help me hide the body

Now let’s enjoy this
Count stars like high school gossip
There’s only one thing left to do
“Let’s destroy this beer”

James Corden’s close relationship with Burberry designer Christopher Bailey was celebrated at the 2016 Tony Awards.

On Sunday night (12Jun16) the toast of Broadway were celebrated at the annual awards show. British star James was the evening’s host, winning the crowd over with his warm sense of humour and down to earth delivery.

As well as a successful acting and presenting career, James can now also add style icon to his burgeoning resume.

“We wanted to keep the wardrobe tight and focused with a definite beginning and an end,” stylist Michael Fisher told vogue.com.

“We started with Burberry for the red carpet. James and Christopher Bailey have a long-standing relationship. I wanted a strong look that complemented the roses. The deep burgundy tux had matte black micro sequins on the lapel: very sophisticated and classic, with a technical update.”

Like any good awards show host, 37-year-old James had numerous outfit changes. Two suits from Tom Ford featured; a black three-piece design which served as a tribute to Broadway and then a teal dot dinner jacket, which James chose to wear at the after party.

A show-stopping Dolce & Gabbana look also featured, with the fashion house supplying a pair of “handmade, dark green croc shoes” to complement the green velvet and crystal jacket James wore to close the show.

Another stand out moment came thanks to a red Gucci suit adorned with a bird and butterfly motif.

“The Gucci suit was my favourite,” Michael smiled. “You can’t ignore the influence (Gucci designer) Alessandro Michele has on fashion right now. It reminded me of (musical) The Boy From Oz and in that way was very appropriate for the Tonys.”Read more at: www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses | http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses

.one of the great dissatisfactions of life: dreaming... which makes me suspect of the anglo-saxons and their subsequent branches of sub-ethicities... they dream... they have recurring dreams... lucid dreams... i find that slightly suspicious... i rarely dream and if i do dream, the dreams are so bogus or so uninteresting that they make no sense to: "interpret" them via any freud-cubism schematic - that a woman's sun hat implies: the depth of ****** and promiscuity, or some otherwise bogus stretching it mate, really stretching that analogy... but why do the anglo-saxons have such lucid dreams, even recurring dreams? are they descendants of joseph: der traumgehhilfe? last time i had a dream? oh... family invites me to say, three memebers of the family don't like me... **** the rest of the family with a knife, a gun and a baseball bat (somewhere in south east asia)... a few of the killed members run into the street to die... i somehow pick up a kalashnikov and shoot the murderous 3... then i jump into slender boat with a motor with 3 or 4 women... 'jesus'... and i escape the scene of retribution sailing to... cambodia! **** me... even sylvester stallone or jason statham or arnie wouldn't star in a movie as b-movie as this... but anglo-saxons seem to have the most vivid dreams... two good examples: h. p. lovecraft and william burroughs... is dreaming a form of escapism? if so, then evidently i'm quiet content with reality... like today: too much pop psychology, too much self-help guru mishmash, too much advice: not enough stories... video streaming a game being played... etc., so i retreat, even from modern music, into? here's a beginner's guide list to medieval music:

       1. qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi
       2. da pacem domine
       3. agni parthene
       4. dum pater familias
       5. chevalier, mult estes guariz
       6. virga iesse floruit
       7. walther von der vogelweide's
                 palästinalied
       8. codex buranus no. 179:
                     tempus est locundum
       9. non é gran causa
      10. herr holger
      11. herr mannelig
      12. die eisenfaust am lanzenschaft
      13. meie din liechter schin
      14. under der linden
      15. mayenzeit one neidt
      16. mönch von salzburg (das nachthorn)

   why would i have stopped at merely
Orff's reading of Carmina Burana -
                 sure... that's the entry point...
   but the radio only plays o fortuna till
the cows come home in a full-moon lit night...
yawn...
    if only: fortune plango vulnera,
      veris leta facies, omnia sol temperat,
     floret silva, or... or!
   a monk's love song for the queen of england -
were diu werlt alle min:
              were diu werlt alle min
              von dem mere unze an den Rin,
              des wolt ih mih darben
              daz diu chunegin von Engellant
               lege an minen armen.

but no... it's o fortuna or nothing from that album
on the radio...
    i get it, great song...
   but why is auld lang syne only sung once
a year, on new year's eve?!
              
as with women, so with music, one simply tires of
contemporary examples: not exactly the music
but the lyrics behind the music...
                        music will never change to appease
the brute and the beast... but modern lyricism
is just agitating... it exhaust with its choice
of subject matters...
                                and by the looks of it...
    i spend too much time with music to find myself
in needing the comfort of a woman's voice,
a cuddle or relationship or whatever you want
to call it from now on...
           i am wedded to three women that will
never materialize: Euterpe, Sophia and Amber...
and all the better...
                                i could never wallow in what's
currently being wallowed in...
by some who have these recurrent dreams
and are unable to stop them from recurring...
hence my suspicion with the anglo-saxon traits
of vivid dreaming: this cruch of relying on dreams...
of so easily being ***** by celesto-cerebral powers
that impregnate their sleeping heads with
these realities that only exist in the mind and
a sleeping mind at that!

(nb. not proof read, apologies in advance for any mistakes, upon rereading will correct if any appear - or i'll just keep them...)

look at these two slogans: let's make America great (again)!
complimenting the English variation
let's get our country back! ring any bells? i guess you must
have heard one or the other as an English speaker -
it's hardly surprising - the English Prime Minister singing
a little toodeloo then uttering the word right upon
reentering number 10 - shambles ahoy! every rat and
mutineer bailed - we're in free-fall, Trotsky had it coming,
this guy hasn't - hardliner but a bubble-gum tongue -
it stretches like a joke my English teacher said:
how was copper wire invented? hmm? two Scots
tugging and pulling in opposite directions a two pence coin -
for all their worth, they joked the blond quiff of
both Boris and President Donald Yeltsin - where one
gets drunk on egoism, the other just gets drunk -
even though they don't like him in Scotland, they sure as
hell bought the slogan like a Big Mac - the problem is
there's a zenith, and then a necessary decline -
you can reach the zenith of breaking the 100m sprint,
but then a stock-market dip (necessary) -
much of Britain's exit from the European Union was due
to the campaign trail of the Doodle T - the best politician
i assume is the one that enjoys the most prodding jokes,
which also means the majority of votes,
jokes and votes walk hand-in-hand - people don't want
leaders, they want caricatures - after all, the little existences
have to matter with a joke in the Oval office.
i can't imagine the unholy alliance of feminists running
the place in the west - Theresa May in England,
Hilary Clinton in America, Angela Merkel in Germany,
Ms. Le Pen in France, the Polish prime minister
Beata Szydło - it has to look like a 2nd Cold War scenario,
a break from World Wars... Putin and pukka Tyson Trump
on the other side, macho v. macho - man talk and
the ultimate bromance. i know that Nietzsche referenced
genius too much, assuredly i hear that a lot too around
here with child geniuses storming around for silverware -
children geniuses and not original? so technically you're
talking about data storage in porridge - trained monkeys,
right? those children will be scarred for life as if they
saw their parents ******* - what sort of genius is a genius
if he doesn't work from blank but is there are a memory
gimmick to boost hopes of curing dementia?
philosophy doesn't do geniuses, it does things like Spinoza,
solitary wanderers, loners - outsiders and mesmerisers,
there's no genius in philosophy - there's only solitude -
granted that an open-minded psychiatrist is a modern subplot
in not reading philosophy - where is the ultimate source
of compassionate solely theory based (anti) psychiatry?
in reading philosophy books rather than exercising authority /
abusing it - R. D. Laing is a perfect example -
who wrote after reading philosophy books - i mean read them,
in the English speaking world i recommend reading
the works of the anti-psychiatric movement of the 1960s,
which was much bigger than the Beat Movement - obviously
not as dazzling, but with poetry you're imitating Philippe Petit
(film, the walk) - i watched it and my legs experienced
needles, and a firm assertion of gravity and the location
of the floor - films like that are worse than horror -
you share the heart of the original, but given it's Plato's cave
we're talking about representing the events, you realise
that no matter how much you want your shadow to be
Philippe Petit, you hear from the outside world, your legs
are firmly on the ground - basically: **** that - men are not
born equal, they have to live by principle to be at least moderating
their excellence into a respectable cohesion (democracy) -
quiet simply juggling their strengths with their weaknesses -
man is not born equal, he was to strive for equal measure -
when subduing their strengths and when exfoliating them -
no man is born equal, as no man is an island - the two synchronise.
(i'm deliberately masking what's coming)...
but there is genius in philosophy - but only in one area of
interest - religion... we know that popular beliefs are
grounded in plagiarism - the Trojans became the Romans
via the accounts of Virgil, and we know the Trojans in
becoming Romans plagiarised the Greek polytheism -
Zeus became Jupiter, Poseidon became Neptune,
Cronos became Saturn, Hera became Juno, Aphrodite
became Venus... etc., it was done to mimic the Greek heart
from the defeat at Troy, to invoke a heart that overcame -
every pauper and every king would identify with
this pluralism - but a second plagiarism had to come -
it was prophetically echoed from approximately 2000 years -
the Greeks later plagiarised the Hebrew concept -
the monotheistic concept, yet because their thinking
was so advanced (or so they thought) they dismissed the
sects of the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes and
the Zealots... their hero was their antagonist - and nothing
of their learning was actually work their concerns since
they boasted of their Aristotle and their Plato and their
Socrates - the peddle-stool effect appeared -
but what if a Latin man (well, these letters are Roman) were
to say - never mind the son, how about the father?
in Christianity the father is rather anonymous in his
omnipresence etc. - but let's assume on the biological tenet
that we are referring to the old testament god -
would we want to plagiarise the Greek plagiarism of
Hebrew? i already mentioned the four prime canons as
imitations of the tetragrammaton - of course they're
intended to not be identical accounts, but there must be
two that are mirror images - i.e. referring to h      &      h
of the tetragrammaton - if there are no two mirror images
then we are bothered - i can see why the Greek mind thought
that Y refers to a convergence, a mother, a father, a child
and the entry point to the gospel: a genealogy -
Y being representative of a convergence - past and present,
following through - this is all about first impressions,
from what i can remember and regurgitate back -
in Catholic school we were taught by majority the gospel
of St. Mark - the others were discredited -
i can't tell you if there are two identical gospels (or at least
with very little variation between them) - what comes after
them is what comes after all essences of religion,
bureaucracy - imams and priests, yoga teachers and
whatever it is that comes with religion for the common man,
but in the new testament this is the essence, a shady
reinterpretation of the tetragrammaton - but a Latin man
who didn't bother to attribute symbols with nouns,
but made his alphabet musically orientated for the
castrato and the choirs to come - a (alpha) b (beta)...
o (omicron / omega) it became obvious that the four letters
arranged as so with missing Adam and missing Eve
would provide more than just four interpretations of
the same event / person - for when a Greek has to cut off
-lpha from a to attach it to another letter to create meta,
the Latin man has only to cut off less, perhaps dentistry's
ah, or otherwise cut off -ee from b... the world is full
of such possibilities, and this is the only area where
genius can be applied to philosophy - the genius of
philosophy is within religion, and nowhere else -
of course mind that i don't identify myself as one -
i treat genius as an angel or a demon, that fairy-tale
race of creatures that whisper into your ear - markedly
geniuses are more powerful in demanding an individual
rather than clones of the individual, e.g. Mohammad
and Muslims, Jesus and Christians... which is why i suppose
the genius of Moses also allowed others to write on sacred
paper, but of course excluding Malachi for falling into
heresy with a polytheistic concept of reincarnation, not
oddly enough Malachi's was the last book before the two
major strands of his heresy emerged like Behemoths.

Sitting in a bar.
A beer with perspiration.
Its raining outside.
Hear the shuffleboard shuffle.
Intoxicated poetics.
Sober state of mind.

Stools shrouded in mystery.
Double doors leading in.
Bartender’s creations. (chemical concoctions)
Saloon of slumlords and hipsters
Open mic night.
Hippie Howls.

Don’t worry we got this under control.
Malboro reds, cowboy killers.
Don’t spend you life wishing,
Spend it living.
Better yet, spend it drinking.
Liquid courage. (men becoming beasts)

Awkward rages.
The best is coming.
Shielding secret shame in this scene.
Hidden in a pint of pilsner.
Free thinkers in a haze of hops.
Lets get drunk.

Make shift graveyards on the walls.
Honoring the dead.
Rest in peace.
Nothing less, nothing more.

Old Heidelberg.
Before my time.

The stalls scrawled with graffiti.
For a good time call.
Scratched onto the stall.
“Spread love like butter on a hot bun”
Sherlock and Watson.
Bromance.
This is a bar of friends.

What is this bar?
Drunk off this atmosphere.
Window panes with neon signs.
Disillusioned.
Concealed.
Unfinished.
The moves fast and goes right by.
Springing forward without a shadow of a doubt.
Members of the Great Unwashed.
The signs of our time.
I think we’re going to split.

Can I get another drink?
One for the road.

Don’t cut me off quite yet.

So they hacked some computers.
"No big deal" you may say,
"Since their influence steered things
toward the right way"

"They just didn't respect us,
that's why the attack.
So I place all the blame
on the Dems and Barack"

"So we'll get nice and cozy,
Vladimir and me,
since there is just so much
upon which we agree"

"We want to be strongmen
who'll shape history
and we're both such examples
of virility"

"And we'll handle the media
through fear and attack
to ensure truth and balance
shall never come back"

"Admiration and power
is what we adore,
it's the one greatest cause
that we truly live for"

So, Mr. Trump...

When you're there in the Oval
and Europe's alarmed
'cause in Prague and in Warsaw.
the Russians, well armed,

have crossed o'er the borders
and come to reclaim
their former domininons,
then who will you blame?

So why this great bromance?
What's your motivation?
Why would you align
with Vlad and his nation?

Could it be business ties?
Or maybe high debt?
Or maybe dark secrets
you wish they'd forget?

I do not want to think
that it could be such things
but the Russians sure look
like they're pulling your strings.

Death descends like the statement of a credit card;
life goes on in eight columns, sometimes six,
dropping out should have been an option, instead my
world is turning pages while I am just sitting here
listening to atrophy whisper through a megaphone:
“It’s better to fade away than to burn out, let
champagne supper turn to bile by breakfast, bark up a
fake plastic lemon tree till she hurls pomo grenades at you.”
The streetlife serenade is recklessly tempting,
in the club the girls in ***** shirts come and go,
talking of Felu, Neru, Derri… da, what inertia!
Sitting in a club with so many fools(,) playing to rules,
Hell is a blank generation with no vacancy,
I’m doubting Thom: meeting people isn’t easy,
Them clones in rubber souls from fab India
try to impale me right next to the paintbox,
In she walks, head going nowhere close to the oven,
eyes me like a Pisces riding shotgun on a WAG,
says growing older in the rain ought not be done all alone.
Bring on the moonshine, dancing days are here again!
Happiness was Scotch Mist, now it’s suddenly a goal,
It’s past AM on a holiday, do I wanna know if this
isn’t, like always, just un-certain platonish bromance?
Or will she journey with me till the end of the night?
Optimism is fleeting, afraid to commit, tends to elope,
Pray that she lingers long enough: I need a feel-good poem.
There’s a restaurant at the end of the universe,
I’ve heard the well-done steak they serve is actually rare
but their awesomesauce can make us live forever,
we can make it there in time if we slide away right now,
and if in the morning we don’t know what to do,
I’ll toast the bread, I’ll make the bed, she can make my day.

Anywhere in time and space, where do you wanna start.
Saving people, hunting things, the family business.
High functioning Sociopath.
You're a wizard Harry.
Divergents must die.
New Directions won nationals.
This is what happens in fandoms.


The feels
The crying
The laughing
The dying
The OTPs
The NOTPs
The romance
The bromance
This is what happens in fandoms.

The Tardis
The Impala
The scarf
The trench coats
The wands
The factions
The singing
The dancing
This is what happens in fandoms.

Your OTPs aren't safe.
No one is safe.
Don't try to run.
Don't try to hide.
Once you are in
There is no getting out.
Save yourself.
Save your sanity.
This is what happens in fandoms.

I'm here today to talk about love and all its wonders
so take a seat kiddies
Let's see...where to begin
Well theres that just got your drivers license, so your parents bought you a whip,
And even though it's a ******* you get the "I Love this car!" Love
And there's definitely a few of those 3 for 1 at echo Love
Men be men admit it...ya thats right, bromance guy Love
Or that "so happy I could cry" Love
That's the right Love the girls in white Love
Followed by that trip to hawii and the summer sun Love
And we all Love to have fun Love
Or how kids Love to run Love
There's the "I gotta go back to school but we'll always have the lake" Love
And everyone Loves to like on facebook Love
And there's Live, Love, Laugh  Love
Or how about that first hot day in spring Love
Girls you know you Love that Love
And us guys Love that you Love that Love
Cause we got that Love for the Lovelies that you wear Love
And we Love that you let down your hair Love
Theres friend Love and Lovers Love
And new Lovers Love
You know... that Love that you Love the same Love they Love, Love
But my favorite Love of all
Is the Love I have for ya'll
That's the Love that I Love to Love

and i'm watching this couple, this: bromance...
  and i'm wondering when the time
comes that the other tells
the former: you can't talk
physics wearing a cowboy hat,
wasn't the 20th century the time
they lost habitual need to cover their heads?
monks shaving, the kippah...
indians and the Martian act of scalping,
my donning a beard and fiddling
with it like payots / sidelocks...
can this... cowboy talk seriously to me
about what is and what isn't a stance
on pragmatism?
      let's just say, that being attired
with so many scientific facts, moon lading
and all that, i'd be most perfectly sound
in stating such facts, such attire,
without looking, rather ridiculous...
   it's nice that someone can go to the moon,
and in having this susbjecitivty enclosed in them,
and how that won't translate into something
i might share... how i will never experience
someone else's subjectivity, and how that is
the sole basis for having objective opinions...
but you have to admit that donning a cowboy
hat is more ridiculous than putting on a sock
or a shoe...
                       and then talking
looking like that genius gremlin...
    men age, they enforce being boring,
they're too nostalgic, they love to re- re-
  a care for st. pete... hey! pedro! what do women do?
they're just become weird...
   like that wasn't the case to begin with...
love is... whether expressed by a pensioner
or a teen... a bit... mmm... whatever.
          it just gives me the idea of being
a host of gnats when people have to dress themselves
with these "serious" facts... and then they later
talk donning cowboy hats and boots...
  who's the serious monkey to be given
a radio show? who the serious bobo?
          even i know, given the phonos,
that dżin is an orthographic transgression...
        dzin would suffice...
yes, you've been to the moon, that's nice...
this is where you deviate from telling other
people to keep it to themselves...
              i'd prefer to hear more about the brothers
Grimm sound asleep, than hear of american astronauts...
but yeah, thanks for the invite,
      so few people care or want to be astronauts,
the emeritus americans and the emeritus russias
ego-tripping is so, so, so so boring...
       and i'm sorta in the custard of it taking place...
ethnicity and abstract identities of succumbing to
nationhood... cut it open... dżin... it's also called
the fake graphemes of sh and sz and dz ch and cz...
those are graphemes...
            there's a reason you don't **** around
invoking too much distinction in the realm of grapheme...
they really could have just said: dzin....
or jinn... or aladin drinking gin.
    sure, they call them aesthetic bits and bobs,
when in fact they are nor aesthetic in a + way,
they're chiral, hardly natural,
gin             jinn              joke                              egg...
   gaug                                    chase,
      glee jeer... game, jam, gammon,
     jammy... gaming... the near proximity!
they're so close!
           - i sniff... (snout noises)... an existence of a graphame...
     if one was to listen to humans talking,
one could clearly see they are bound to cheat...
they have too many symbols for the sounds they make...
and for the deviations in making sounds
they ******* chiral twins of the same sound...
and then sometimes deviate from it...
ensuring that Latin graphemes, those linguistic siamese
rule the river of diacritical mark,
suffocating them, until the river becomes an
artificial lake...
            when diacritical marks was given to
the "deuteronomy", (e) missed in the original...
sometimes spelling mistakes can reveal much more
than the words themselves...
          the 2nd e... for the te-,
t-ah, tao...
                 i can feel winter ending,
i can feel the loss of limbo, fatigue,
               or what comes as spring, namely insomnia,
increased productivity,
but such that diacritical marks were the heavenly
based descents to mark distinct syllables,
  like hailed original use of pucntuation marks,
but more within every word, than among words
in sentences...
   i could just as well call for a genocide of linguists...
i just don't see why they need to
complicate the matters with some wacky
anti-copernican alphabet
akin to writing hope, (consciousness),
[hohp] (american, spaghetti, nasal
akin to echo: oompf! ergo subconscious:
insinuation, panicky, puppets and the empire),
/həʊp/ (british, origin, ergo unconscious) -
why do we need this linguistic alphabet?
you can reach a perfect argument
using the same language, with one
that has adopted the use of diacritical marks
akin to punctuation marks...
and have the only avaliable canvas that
english is... there really should be a russian
counterpart of me dealing with how the greeks
are so paranoid in over-using diacritical marks,
like me, but speaking russian and looking at greek
and nodding, insinuating the word
on a broken record: aha, aha, aha.
it would be nice to talk about people,
but then i graduated from the optometric school
of having to look at migrating electrons in
organic chemistry... i think i'm relaxed these days...
so outside the failed translation gimmick
of chemistry, mainly german, mainly
hyphen orientated CH3-CH2-OH (alcohol, numbers in
subscript) - ****... looking at that "fingerprint",
why is my vision of the world so pink?
you try to teach the anglo-saxons that they're saxons
again, and not orientated around building an empire,
imagine teaching them the proper way to be
saxon, that, some words, like german,
desire, complexpunctuationstandards.
there you go, a real life example, let's see you cut that
word open and extract a heart,
  and a lecture on having a heart,
    let's wait for Frankenstein's monster to groan
into the vacuum, and the no actual vacuum,
but merely the night.
- yes, a hyphen at a beginning of a sentence plateau
almost means a stance to take to paragraph;
even though it shouldn't exist, as a p.s.,
***** into existence by, nothing more than a bias
to endorse whims, cravats, Monet,
and tantrum fits of little girls that dreamed
of being princesses... but instead became ******;
yes, those working parts of you
                           that are quiet, edible.
to write, and see, rather than write, and hear;
that sentence will not actually require
the existential ambiguity of the zoo,
of the enclosure of "     "...
                    i look at existentialists as i might look
at zoologists... prison guards...
      pontius pilates.