how sad to be misunderstood
to be evicted from life
to have the full tenure
of a torrid human existence
gesture horribly at you
in faultless reputation
like that of a rancid rage
over a lost trinket
or to be quarantined
while fingerless skin scolds
and noiseless voices are raised
in a donated generosity of savage ignorance
striving to make copious amends
in vain efforts to regrettable
slow acting poison that boils the mind
oh how sad to be misunderstood
such varicose viciousness
oh it’s sad quite sad to be misunderstood
to live through and inoculated hour glass
giving limitless time to a wildfire of idiocy
and when your breath speaks they laugh
black laughter that shatters wet umbilical truths
shudders
knowledge gestures to smoking nostrils
oh how sad, how sad it is to be misunderstood
to be drenched in the rain but not get wet
in which antiquity rests with its
mythologised stupendous ill effects
getting  vivid shadows massed all around
oh how sad it is to be misunderstood
until dactylic, hexameter, elegance
completes and slithering syllables
by their antiquity  focus a shuddering shriek
that sends an exploding heart through your chest

The saddest day, it was yesterday.
Smoky sullen pushy congested lightless sky day.
Wrecked and weathered, gluey, obtuse and penned with
Melancholy and wanton desire. Wanting on and selling off

The Vampires and wretched thieves hibernating back in coach,
Seated in peacock-scoundrel dress. There's was the rudimentary
Yet pertinent foulness of childlike hatred, but they wore it under
Coarsely fitting suits to cover their hefty bags of ginormous fat.

Fatty ***** to scrutinize. Fatty ***** to wallow in the throes of
Dark fatty dementia.
Purses of alabaster filled with hemoglobin. Obfuscating zilch.
Scurvy on the arms, reptiles in their ears, and a million miles of
Stenchy, noisome, in glut. Wallowing, heavy and anti-professional.

Loff-less, un-catchy, unkempt, and in a clamor.
Boarish and obtrusive.
Gushy of anguish and the uncomfortable hide of rhino
Replaced for the swill excrement vetted porcine hocks of a
Kaleidoscope rich, aftermarket slug-pact for the bowels of
This century's egoes. Heavy on the cheeses, Cheetos, and Pathos.

In the hutch, a gaily brimming sunswept valley chimes
With the fruitful gaiety around the crowned Pantone TX1333 and Sienna heads that does keep. Homes are heavier, heaving the shrills.
Archaic muted cries of childhood, upsetted tummies serving at the Sighs of Lucifer. There are scoundrels here and in the underwear and in The water and under the water.

Frogs moo, chimney's weep, most other's Mother's have done true **** Jobs keeping their reared up to par with the others to avoid being Other'd. And our own language isn't being kept. It's undoing itself atop The bridges of mouths and the ridges of jawlines, and they have faded Swiftly, and no surrogate or custodial colloquialism has lived up to the Shadows and forethought of our greatest grandparents. And what has Your Jesus brought you except uncertainty, foul-play, and foul players And despondent and boarish chicas.

So now there you have this: brevity.
Another soft-tipped dactylic hand for undertaking.
By the end of days there will be the licking of butts,
Poor movies with Salma Hayek, and the lot of children's books
No children, not even these triplets will remember their fine names:

Tee, Bee, and Cee.
Crocus and sourdough lilies
Brimming over the nostril opera's of
These adopted gospels.
Only the ramparts of our literary apartheid and totally ******
Sexualness in kids and dults of all ages.

Operational anxiety. The words I've been using don't make any sense to me anymore. It's all quiet and I have so many questions. The mountains shout, "*******!" over the Gros Ventre. And I'm lifeless and apathetic about lessons. I just turn on the Philip Glass and go for **** misunderstanding. More of it is coming and somehow I allow it in. A me circle of despair, loss, and immense love. My subjects must be growing curiouser and curiouser. Some of these adverbs dress in white dresses with black boots and carry scars on their palms while they bribe you off their tears to crawl back into the dusty desert graves your skin wants back.

My oven mitts aren't even of animals. I stare at the deer and moose from our second story balcony. My wrists hurt in a loss of practicing this habit. Subject matter that burns through the nights where I don't sleep. I torment myself in nursery rhymes that don't rhyme. Beds that don't water themselves, and the stories that keep my fingers soggy and pruney, drowning their dactylic digits in infinite keyboard unfulfillment.

The music is familiar. It throws its knife-wielding notes into my gut- my innards are bleeding, and my headache is growing stiff. I could mutate like Alex Mac and operate in a vacuum. I could be an incubator of self-aggrandizing disastrous behavior, an awful diaspora of introspection, a sickness that starts in soft flesh and tissue and summarizes me in the faces and heads of people and children that never turned their heads to listen.

I am wrestling your poems out of your hands. A royal couplet you try to explode against your innards, and a ****** prose that cascades upon the walls, in a mushy textural, even artistic mess of crimsony soulless words you throw around, things haven't changed but you I think you were just pretending to be haunting.

Winter hoarfrost and summer sweating. Integers upsetted by short-acting suns and cold and chilling dips in frigid waist-high water. The rocks are slimy and I don't feel like the fires are still coming. I point my nose to the water and take fifty paces. When will I have my forty-two minute day. Children are ***** liars and ought to have no sugar or treats. But let's not feed them from bowls we place on the floor.

My fingers are freezing, my cheeks, nose, back, and elbows too. I am smoking and never going to stop. I have met Joe Black and he tells me he used to command David Berkowitz into shooting people in cars, so I tell him the only thing certain in life is death and taxes, and that we need a new dishwasher, a cheaper place to buy ice cream, and a rough concrete square of floor I can torture myself for experiencing too much as human.

You Can’t Get Me To Lick Your Bones If You’re Never Going To Eat My Phone


I don’t need for the reading of your head
sideways. There’s no book of your gazes in
drugs I fluff myself in front of mirrors to the heavens and become elated, transfixed; I never become ‘indisposed’

you may shift your skin in those clothes I
would never spell nor the words I would never wear across the neck
I will never throw your prose across this
lubricious pottery wheel that governs the

awesome succubus’ coffin of Publisher
Clearing House dactylic feet, I have
a licentious groove and yet I never am
wont for those syllabic toes you push into

the mouth of me. Slippery soot-covered balms of the dancers jocular knot, so I say:
See Spot Run
away from that face of your clock
the beats of your Machiavellian speech

I am understudy to none
In cahoots with only the **** of my soup
kitchen, my idyllic sous chef he takes paradise and irrumates these

suture-battered stars covered in
elementary window wish dust
to poke your fingers with kisses
and undo your shoelaces even

while you you’re weary of becoming
the flat-footed ballerina. There it is
I’ve said it. Beware beware beware beware
when taunting me in your under wares

For I eat lines rare
Petite writhings of flair

Cheese made his book resemble German;
Ray Vath Akousi Revolutionary
Refreshment by OCTO Tsing
ánon POSTIMAT Neked
FOTOS of Jewish Kristista from
Korea; Enki, yes pursued more
than Chrome Wind from Agni,
Ilithium Salts sister from Ixeris
Methysms video from Greek
Oleander, slutty jellyfish and outdoor
practices; Free Chop Chop Chop
Chop Chop Chop Edificially Riley,
Tony Stark, Australia Clement
Necros Necros Necros Necros
Necros Pethaínei Australia. This
device is CRASS. Kenyon, Kay
Kay, Kay to return to Italy
and some Ye'ariyewochini lands.
The Azizi and the brooch
of the ***** of the north and
the orchards, ****** and I perceive
ourselves. Yevišikēyi's arrow,
ASK FOR TREES. Western
European Squadron šemigeleyiši
Amfilegómeni Paik. A device
that KATITATITIS-Ecstasy
under the definition
of kuburoviye In fact, |the
microbiologist. Windows
XP **** and Windows. Shelley,
she, she, go ahead, Ken Shaw.
For SASE. Fountinus FOTO
Middle East (East Meyiriši)
and prepares to study and connect
the models. Veleyo a teacher
from Japan, Thailand velili
yeni. Guards of Pigiyeni Timokilojiki.
An event is less than what kuelu
was. Jupiter is more ****** Kay
and KI runs late at night at 10:00
in the shower. Other Russian
footballers' ink; Russia narrative,
history, fiction Rosika Fronteiras.
Shinto "K Blue anarcho tchev
yuturoki -... Sistillus spirit
of monkey of Ypokatastimata
(degree), 1 Podos fairy, Podósfairo
Ispanikós red and white *****,
white for my Windows official
workshop public 4 had the "nightmare"
King bowel, the first time
the doors of Model KyLie trots
left at Microsoft Bob's Syzyg H.
Post and Tapeinos gatactíthike
B. and G. you "and Alfred Clayakyr
Throne, Mexico, ***** and anti-lead
anesthesia, IPA, Rome, Kuwait,
Hoda's surprise and fear, the perfect,
beyond Mexico. The region
of the lakes between here,
Mexico and the European Bank
of Gypsies has been invited by him.
The Iliad (; Ancient Greek: Ἰλιάς
Iliás, pronounced [iː.li.ás]
in Classical Attic; sometimes
referred to as the Song of Ilion
or Song of Ilium) is an ancient
Greek epic poem in dactylic
hexameter, traditionally
attributed to Homer; a A cenote
(English: or ; American Spanish:
[seˈnote]) is a natural pit,
or sinkhole resulting from
the collapse of limestone bedrock
that exposes groundwater
underneath the sounding field
of the hiding place, the color
connection, the Brazilian
paleontologist, the plasma killing,
the teeth of Charles apparently
innocent of the influence of cigars.
The sky of Ekichichi advanced
towards the bottom. from the lake.
A serpent struck with the violence
of the serpent and the Arab
wolves may be a sign of a point
in the <gulib> but 'enik'wayu
has found the ******* of the
body and has the duty to live
as a person who considers
the master of the states. United,
The microbiologists of the
United States of America
wants and likes the transport
that the White House for Windows
does not have ****** and
Windows: the moon, the sun,
the sun, the wonderful shoes
of the sun, loves his son. The bright
lights of the Middle East.
In the Bible it jumps to Japan.
You want to find a list of printers.
That will happen. The guide,
which is a collection of these
people, groups and the public
cannot. On this occasion,
at this time, Yiva Tova,
the Russian Greek *****
and the father of her father,
BSC, in Spain...

Oh yes,
Night terror, history:
The Orders of Guessing Hypothesie

Oven bubbling mutton
Ew, ew, ewe!
Nettlijg kethered kips
cym built

Figuring out the beating sounds
Against
Irony, Ann, me butte you plateau

Dactylic appraisals the young unable,
Kip Candy Whack
Fuzzy teg legs the lanolin glutton of mutton
The muted toot-toot of a train's  course of traction no left or right

Just go.
Just reverse.

Weighted out  fears for
Anxious rhymes with
Don't speak the heavy metal in the ending if he jungle. Danger plays to a child at play one day
Some pillows trying but something doesn't count.


Beautiful yours
Beautiful Hers

never fast again
eat and eat kirbojrrrrrrrr

Rich composition
Simple eyelids
Nictststensldnebt

I had a dream to write in dactylic hexameter and so

I did. By the way it’s really difficult in English.

Most people lead with the jab
But his 1-2 punch was dactylic
The majority of his poems are haymakers
Homogenous mixtures of slurred speech
That rarely connexts

His footwork is nothing special
He still finds the canvas too springy
He's distracted by blinking

Graceless graphite paws
Taking granite swings
Skipping chips of deadweight loss
Embedded in the stream of ink
Now dripping from his brow
The fighters looking up
And the ref is counting down