Chapter 1- The Saga of the Dragon-Power and Federation Battlefare
Stanza 1-Lady of the Night
You’re such a parcel, but not much of a marvel, you lack a price
But that is good because now we have the Oathed Sacrifice!
Such was the words when Dragon-Man stood before his main foe.
He dare not think what types of devices Drent had for pain though.
Dragon-man was taken off the Lynxian Road and it was a horror soon.
I was watching with my cousins one of the last of the Saturday morning cartoons.
My cousins watched for more, I had already seen it all twenty years before.
I was just shocked that they would show Dragon-Man to Generation Y
Dragon-Man looked to me now like one of those ventilation guys.
I could see Dragon-Man smiling, and I knew exactly what that smile meant.
Because he needed the Composi crossbow, and he could only get it from vile Drent.
The arrows were like missiles that sought out and broke down the body.
It was the type of weapon so strong, it was almost ungodly.

The Abyss-Sword, tell me what does it feel like to be killed by your own weapon.
Dragon-Man replied with a smirk, I don’t know you tell me, and got to steppin.
He reached for the Composi crossbow, but it was snatched away by a Brackti Guard.
**** him with the full arsenal we have, and make sure his death is especially hard.
It is amazing that Dragon-Man could withstand such an onslaught.
He cannot stand up against it for long, with such brawn brought.
Some of the firepower gets close, Dragon-Man might not survive for long.
What manner of man can withstand such a powerful throng?
Suddenly, there is a noise, and all of the Brackti Guard fall dead.
Drent you might have to sacrifice yourself, said a voice that they all dread.
Beside all of them were gleaming bullets, which had a hole in them but were filled with lead.
It was the Lady of the Night, who came in with the Nike sling.
This weaponry was fierce and devoured enemies and their everything.
It also  made a hellish noise when it fired Byzantine bullets, nothing could stand in its path.
Drent suddenly disappeared because with the both of them, his death would be the aftermath.
You forgot your cross-bow, she said as she gave it to him with a smile.
What took you so long, Dragon-Man asked, I was waiting all this while.
You forget it takes long to reach you when you put yourself in trouble.
At least be happy I turned the Brackti Guard into pebbles of rubble.
Dragon-Man looked at the Composti cross-bow and this was good weaponry.
If he saw Drent it would be the last time Drent ever stepped to he.
Let’s go, I got the Paroah chariot, there is no time to waste here.
Drent probably went back to regroup inside of his lair.
Dragon-Man climbed inside the chariot and said “I will drive.
The Lady of the Night replied, I got it, because I want to survive.
They drove the chariot away, and Dragon-Man got back to his place
Little did he know that waiting for him was a criminal court case.

Stanza 2-Dragon-Man’s Advocate
Dragon-Man went back to his home, he did not have a chance
To take back from Shark-Devil the Winged- Fire-Lance.
The next day, he got dressed and went to the building.
They say work is supposed to be the epitome of fulfillment.
See, Dragon-Man’s alter-ego was Jonathan Maine, Esquire.
This is what he would do if he ever had to retire.
But when he got to his desk, there were police all around.
Who told him to get down on the floor and put hands on the ground.
Jonathan never thought this would happen, a lawyer needs an advocate.
He was mad as **** but knew that he had to sit because he was bad at it.
Jonathan was brought to the precinct and placed in a prison cell.
When someone asked what he did Jonathan said I’ll never tell.
Well, well, said a voice and Jonathan instantly knew who it was for dinner.
It was Shark-Devil, also known as Joseph Grant, Police Commissioner.

I’ll let you out if you will work for me, Joseph Grant said with a’
smirk.                                                                                              
Jonathan sneered, Two wrongs don’t make a right so that would not work.
Well then, I guess your days of being Dragon-Man are over and done.
When I am through with you, only in your dreams will you see the sun.
Don’t’ I get a phone call, I know my rights and I know you know them as well.
Shark-Devil tossed him a cell phone and said, Tell them you are going to hell!
Jonathan picked up the phone and said, Now we have Shark-Devil where we want him.
The only problem is the court case, and to get the Winged Fire Lance from Shark-Devil
They accused me of assault, false pretenses and 4 counts of conspiracy and embezzlement.
In came Shark-Devil, holding the Winged Fire-Lance with evil in his eye
So isn’t it ironic that the Fire-Lance you so desperately wanted will make you die.
No need to go before a judge to say that you will not testify, I’m not that kind of guy.
Drent was an idiot, his powers were almost abysmal and worthless.
I needed something  good who would serve my every purpose.
Jonathan looked at the Fire-Lance, it was so hot and the blade was double-edged.
He knew I had to do something quick, or else he was in trouble drenched.

That’s not irony it’s a paradox, Jonathan shouted as I fumbled with my watch.
Jonathan pressed a button and the Abyss Sword came into his hand to launch.
So now we will battle in jail, Shark-Devil sneered as he changed into his form.
That is no big deal to Dragon-Man because that was where he was born.
The Fire-Lance was a marvelous weapon, good for melee or to throw.
But it was not as good as the Abyss-Sword at the brute hacking blow.
Suddenly Dragon-Man gave Shark-Devil a mighty swing, and he fell down.
This is not the last thing you have seen me, Shark-Devil said as he left town.

Dragon-Man pressed his watch, and now he was Jonathan Maine, scarred.
But now he would have to answer to the disciplinary board to not get disbarred.
He picked up the Winged Fire Lance, and that now made his weapons and arsenal.
The Fire-Lance belongs to those who can use it, and use it then well.
Now the lawyer needs a lawyer, Jonathan said with a sigh.
One of the prisoners said to him, I think I know a guy.
Jonathan picked up the phone, the one call did not now apply
The voice on the other end said, Don’t worry, I’ll get the charges dropped.
Now Jonathan just has to sit until he can make bail and get this trial stopped.

Stanza 3-We Are the Dragon-Power.
The dinosaurs did not die out, the survivors became the Dragon Power.
They left for higher ground in the Arurian Tower.
They worked on the Abyss Sword, Winged Fire Lance, Nike Sling and Composti Bow on their grind.
Because they thought that the power that killed the dinosaurs would come a second time.
To succeed where the first time, they had failed.
But they could not leave the tower, they were jailed.
I, Jonathan Maine, stumbled on the Tower, but the weapons were not there.
That someone malevolent would take them was the worst of my fear.

Suddenly I heard a voice who said, We are the Dragon Power and you are chosen.
To become Dragon-Man, and fight against our enemy called the Drozen.
This adversary is also yours, but our weapons were stolen by various evil.
Now you must go on a journey to get this arsenal back, and save your people.
I asked them why they could not fight, and they said, We do not have a presence.
When the Drozen fired asteroids at Earth, he disembodied our essence.
We could make the weapons, but we could not use these instruments.
But we will give you the power of disembodiment as our influence.
And here is what your people called a watch, it will tap into the power of Dragon.
But do not talk about us, no posts on social media or bragging.
I was astounding, but I was glad to have such nice bling.
Now it was the time to save all of Earth and everything.

The Dragon Power warned, Drozen wants to destroy everything, even the darkness
You will have to fight the evil on Earth, but keep your eyes on the ultimate test.
I took the watch, and pressed it, and instantly I saw the Diablo-Robots
The Dragon said, the power of the sky-animals on Earth was transformed to throw shots.
Because the asteroids contained a powerful source called Warbeuite.
We took some of it and used it to make the weapons to fight for good and right.
I just had one more question, how do you speak English so fluently?
People would walk by our tower and have conversations beside the tower’s sea.
I took the watch and pressed another button, and suddenly I was at home.
Out in the day, unbeknownst to me, a powerful being was getting off his throne.

Set a course toward Earth, he said, because this earthling will ruin my plan.
I am going to finish now what I should have done in the beginning.
Master Drozen, we are on our way, the Diablo-Robot said with glee.
Little did I know the strongest force in the universe was coming to fight me.

Stanza 4- The Council of the Faceless Tongues.
Drozen stood before the Council of the Faceless Tongues, kneeled before them.
He was the Commander of the Numberless Clans, and knew his superiors.
The Prefector murmured, you said with great confidence Earth was dealt with.
The Dragon Power and Dragon-man proves that your speech was myth.
Drozen replied, My liege, I was conquering other worlds to isolate the Earth rock.
Because to allege that I cannot subdue little Earth would be the worst talk.
The Prefector sneered, Maybe we need the Legate to acquire this oceaned planet.
And send you to a realm that is more manageable as a colonized hamlet.
Drozen urged, Not at all my Lord, I will make sure that the deed is done.
And by the end of my warmonger, there will be no doubt who has won.
I don’t want any interference, just let me leave and give me clearance
You are the Council of the Faceless Tongues, and I bow to you tyrants.
The Prefector motioned, Very well prepare your Diablo-Robots and go vanquish.
But be warned that if you cannot conquer this Earth rock, you will be banished.
The Drozen left muttering, I must destroy this Dragon Power and Dragon Man.
As the Drozen teleported to the Alieno-Mechanism, he called on the Numberless Clans.
Dragon-Man on Earth felt uneasy, he knew someone was coming in defiance.
But he could not face this threat alone, Dragon-Man knew he would need an alliance.
The Dragon Power told Dragon-Man, we must start to  form the Federation.
Drozen is on his way, and is coming to destroy by annihilation.
Stanza-The Gloryless Cause
As Dragon-Man he knew he had to find the Lady of the Night
Because she would vital for the Federation’s ultimate fight.
The only problem was that Dragon-Man did not know where to locate her.
He went to his house and thought, The search can continue later.
Suddenly the light turned on, and the Lady of the Night was there frowning.
So you would be in this fight without me after I rescued you, she said hounding.
Dragon-Man looked closer and saw that she was only clowning.
You know that I could not fight without you, Dragon-Man said with a grin.
And the best part is, you already are armed with your own weapon.
Lady of the Night observed, But there are two other weapons, and you have one hand.
Dragon-Man replied, I will recruit others for this Gloryless Cause but I will be in command.
Because this Gloryless cause needs the Oathed Sacrifice to fight.

I'll take on this burden to save, Drozen wants to put out the light.
Lady of the Night said, We can use the Paroah chariot as our battlecraft ride.
Dragon-Man wondered how the Paroah chariot would work with a fighting team inside.
Suddenly they were in the Dragon Tower, and the Dragon Power said we have to say.
That your collective powers together form the Nova Knighthood Way.
The Federation is made up of various Knighthoods to fight against this dire day.
The powers you have now are not enough to fight Drozen in his quest.
So we decided to fashion together a team that would have power to contest.      

Dragon-Man, you will be the Alpha Knight, and pilot the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night, your power is the Beta Knight, you will be in charge of the Gem Prism.
But what about the rest of us, Dragon-Man asked the Dragon-Power with surprise.
You must search for them, and remember, you cannot rely on just your eyes.
Dragon-Man woke up in his room, and sighed because he had a hearing.
It was at the end of the day, so when he went to work he knew Joe  would be jeering.
As Dragon-Man drove to work, he thought that he had forgot something.
Little did he know that an entity was not there, but it was coming.

Stanza 5-I will bring the War to Drozen
Dragon-Man took the letter from the mailbox and opened it.
When he saw who wrote it, he gasped and had a fit.
It was Drozen, who said I will bring to you The War
On a level your Earthlings have never known before.
You might have the Isotrain Mechanism but I have a machine
No use trying to wake up, because this is not a dream.
Dragon-Man crumpled the letter up and threw it away.
He knew that he had to be ready to fight right now today.
He contacted Lady of the Night on his Galvalar watch.
And told her to get here as soon as possible to this spot.
She came and Dragon-Man prepared to get the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night protested, The rest of the team isn’t here or risen.
I hope you would get reinforcements and rethink your decision.
Dragon-Man said, With the Isotrain Mechanism, I will take the war to he
Search for Drozen across the worlds and bring battle to make us free.
The Iso-train Mechanism came, Dragon-Man put the Abyss Sword in the Damocles Stone.
It roared to life, and Dragon-Man proclaimed, Drozen would wish he left us alone!
Lady of the Night parked her Paroah Chariot in it, and now they were ready.
With the Isotrain Mechanism and the Nova Knighthood, the Federation is deadly.
Lady of the Night took the Elysian Scabbard, this would help to ward off injury.
They searched the skies with the Spacecraft scope, looking for their enemy.
Suddenly Lady of the Night screamed, Look at that light headed right towards us.
Dragon-Man turned on the Isotrain Mechanism and said, Engage Supernova rockets full ******!
Drozen and Dragon-Man are on a collision course, the universe will bear this battle’s brunt.
Little did Dragon-Man know, one of the Dragon Power was working for the Faceless Tongues.

Stanza 6- When our Paths Cross Again, Drozen will meet the Hades-Grasp.
The Isotrain Mechanism was getting ready to go take flight.
When a voice cried out, Don’t leave yet you need me for this fight.
Who are you, Lady of the Night cried, and how do I know I can trust?
What about me, Dragon-Man protested, and Lady of the Night said it’s not you it’s us.
I am the Breastplate-Bearer and it is my life’s fulfillment to be the Delta Knight too.
Because Drozen is coming after all of us and what we love, it is not just you.
I carry the Breastplates for all the Knights of the Federation to carry.
So we must be going on our way soon, we cannot stop or tarry.
Because The War will be the event that will define our generation.
And it for this reason that we are all warrior-soldiers in this Federation.

Dragon-Man said, You speak like one who knows war and does skirmish
Bring the Breastplates to the Isotrain Mechanism so it can be furnished.
Breastplate-Bearer also said, I have a Space-craft Vehicle ready to conquer.
Dragon Man replied, We fight to win, but we carry the battle with honor.
You can handle the Lifeforce-Seeking Missiles as your job on the team.
Suddenly Lady of the Night let out a primal, unladylike hell-scream.

A woman was lying on the ground, and she looked so close to becoming a vegetable.
We need to rebuild her, said Breastplate-Bearer, because she looks so dead and still.
There is no time for chivalry, warned Dragon-Man, and she is too delicate to dismantle.
Lady of th

/my "insomnia" isn't exactly a problem, when rationalised via: a Freudian desert, namely, i sleep, but have not luxury to dream, which makes a sense of death all the more procreational for thinking's sake... insomnia like dementia... or rather... better the erosion of the thought aculty,  replaced by hallucinogenic inducement to counter the erosion of the dream mechanics... currently staged by boorish media, 24h reels of insomnia pusher outlets... so who gave ol' zuck the oyster tongue, greasy skin, and a wet, shrinking prune *****? comes a time when a boy gets to grow oop... chances are, if you're insomniac, you are not an escape artist, and you deem the escapism of bound to dreams, as yet another, sheikh dubai lamborghini promenade, riding it at an urban speed limit of 30mph... revving for the "fear factor" of... dancing with gingy 'arry... risqué... insomnia erodes dreams... all the better, in that perpetuation of a mummified blink... theatre's curtain falls... what sort of Freudian banana is there to speak about, when attempting to compensate the intellect, for a *******  Eiffel... notably... an individual's insomnia comes after, the media insomnia, bite sized 30 minute intervals on repeat for 24h hours... and in between, no  in-between programmes, that might allow journalistic digestion... a lack of dialectical exercise has created journalistic indigestion... most notable and in plain sight... when applying the pedantic counter dialectic observation, in the form of diacritical marks.

doubt is a luxury in the current zeitgeist,
to unravel doubt,
when compensating love,
as a chemistry of endomorphines...
doubt, is the equivalent
of an intellectuals synonym
of love... both are gambles,
uncertainties, both are:
wavering of the heart, pendulum
swings...
   doubt is a phobia-philia...
a love of fear, less strenuously:
an apprehension regarding
the fact that Zanzibar made it
into song lyrics, and is a place
that actually exists, in situ...
without any global mention
in culture mining...
for those starved from loving...
afraid of their own shadow
and loneliness,
cogitatio ex-et-qua claustrophobia...
don mclean's starry starry night...
as big as a *******
universe and as plebian
as the lost V in a thespian
and the lost F in: definite article...
FE VACUUM PINT... sorry... POINT?  
doubt is a luxury,
equivalent to love...
doubt is a thinking man's love...
in both instances the heart
is swayed...
     how quickly did the Narcissus
economics become
the semi-autistic solipsistic pillar
that undermined the shear
exhilirence of doubt = love,
post curiosity, posit trust,
posit: disembodiment...
posit... and the siamese dream factory
(no smashing pumpkins' cliché)...
nontheless...
doubt is a luxury,
a graphite find,
with synonym-covert findings
of the gem equivalent to:
a fear of the existence of
the unum anima...
     and the precipitation of
ghosts...
    in the case for the argument
for the existence of purgatory...
     nostalgia...
because being sedated by a general
anaesthetic... is not quiet tot...
but doubt is a luxury these days,
sometimes misunderstood as
nonchalance...
but rather the ease of having
opinions, for the sake of
everyday narratives,
not dialectically challenged...
doubt, is akin to love,
in that there's the wavering,
nonetheless a teasing carrot
hanging before:
the palms that became
the Roman lynch whips...
one man rode a donkey
and suddenly four horsemen took
to a gallop...
     doubt is a luxury...
given our times...
    notably because the existentialist
replaced doubt with denial...
and denial, has no luxury
of thought as genesis,
instigator, alpha precursor...
     denial is not a luxury,
it is an accepted norm...
               perhaps the subtleness
of love in the guise of doubt
as the antithesis of erratic pulverisation
not associated with thinking,
or rather: cogitatio per se, est
supra "quaestio" moralis, id est:
     narratio moralis...
doubt is a luxury,
in times, when man looks upon
man as a chimera of
a wolf, a fox, and a sheep / goat...
doubt is a luxury,
when denial becomes the norm;
          this doesn't even have to
invigorate the comic holocaust denials...
but the sort of denials,
that allow a small town to exist
and the globalist city-state
cannibalism to also, exist...
        a "denial" for the sake
of "myopia"...
          came the pseudo-Socrates...
and the dialectical-Elijah...
              Copernicus the genius,
thesaurus handy,
also the solipsist, and also
the cider brewer's concept of
autistism...
          mind you...
the thin line...
between atheism and autism...
an atheist arguing for the nonexistence
of god, countered
with an autistic- arguing
                for the existence of a self,
without being questioned
by the other's demand for an
existence of, the self.
doubt is a luxury...
denial is the new standard,
norm.

.some people throw this phrase a lot... how people people have no, "internal" voice, how their thinking is not elaborate in terms of an "audible" narrative... i propose an alternative... given the original Freudian trinity... if the ego is the unit of what consciousness constructs... then the id is the unit of what the unconscious deconstructs: to arrive at an ego... what i've experienced is an automation, which could explain why i dream so little, and so rarely... my ego became "silent"... i still "think", by heart still has a a heartbeat which i cannot regulate... but my cognitive "silencing" is due to... my ego having evaporated, and its "non-existence" has become known to the unconscious... and the id has taken over... and the id? in the realm of consciousness? it's precisely what i've experienced: its silence... considering that the id orientates itself in the unconscious in terms of images, dreams are the respective thoughts of the id, when compared to the ego... i am dispossessed of the ego, or rather the ego's "audibility" - it would appear i am conscious of the id outside the originate realm of the unconscious, which would explain my primitive dreams, or lack thereof... if the ego is the 1 within the confines of consciousness, while the id is the 0 within the same confines... then the id is the 1 within the confines of the unconscious, and the ego is 0 within the same confines... hence? along the Kantian lines, 0 = negation, 1 would therefore equal: affirmation... well then... the following equations as explanations:

    ego = 1        in consciousness: "audible" cognition,
              a "voice" / a "soul"...
   ego = 1 in        the unconscious,
                                       "non-cinematic" dreaming,
a direction, a purpose,
                         an avoidance of nightmarish
voodoo dreams... all fairies and unicorns...
   changing the rhythm of the heart,
or thus empowered, subsequently?! really?!

id = 1 in consciousness,
    whatever "audible cognition" implies at
this point...
well... more a disembodiment or, re-embodiment,
thinking is no longer, "audible",
but shrapnel, it requires an external
"*****" of architectural prospects...
a blank page will do, with two idle hands
in support...

id = 1 in the unconscious...
                  a pristine hierarchy of organs
being, what they are: clocks...
and perfectly dreaming...
with / without exhausting the day-dream
imagination faculty of...
what all day-dreams are:
    a desire to return to the dream-state...

ego = 0 in consciousness
    id = 1 in the unconscious
   (you're actually enforcing a state
of non-thought, perhaps meditating)...

          ego = 1 in consciousness
id = 0 in the unconscious...
            (chances are you're daydreaming...
gagging for something akin to
an L.S.D. trip...
        since there's no one to mention
the cohesion of the unconscious with
a present id, that isn't distracted
by the fetish of, "the one" in your consciousness...
well... what do you expect?
                             maybe this is difficult
to muster... the rudimentary schematics of
reducing it to a binary language whereby
a mere number hides what becomes
a transition of the id as the ego-consciousness...
and relegates the ego as the id-unconscious...
         isn't this what robotics is all about?
the subconscious is... nothing much...
the osmosis no-man's land...
        the membrane of this dynamic...
   sure... you can explore this dynamic...
and no... they're not banning free speech...
what they're banning is...
        the fear of a free speech that doesn't
entertain the practice of dialectics...
they're hunting down the sort of people...
who... echo chamber...
     this current wave of attacks on free speech
isn't an attack on free speech per se...
but the sort of free speech that either:
doesn't "force" people to shut up...
or... doesn't propagate the practice of dialectics.


clearly some men do not love music
much...
clearly some men do not have
to endure their own company,
clearly some men did not have
to endure playing on their own,
clearly some men have never had
an experience with the religiosity
of monks...
clearly some men have never spent
a week or so in a resort like Taizé...
clearly some men prefer to play
an existential poker...
    but as the monks at
the Magdeburg Castle figured out...
just one public house will not hurt
anyone... by the way?
did you know that the original
was not built from red bricks?
gray-white bricks...
like a ghostly barricade of laments
and towing chains shadows...
the longest relationship i was in
lasted for a few months...
it was hell at the end of it...
  so i stopped looking...
   i had no existentialist Darwinism
argument going for me...
and... well... it's pretty hard
to be senile and impotent
when intimidated by a precursor
of about 9 prostitutes sitting
in the waiting room,
having the audacity to ask one
of them: can one of you chose me?
being replied:
you can't do that...
with the counter: oh... you're
talkative... come on...
let's make this coming
a New Year's fireworks display
on the Thames...
   what?!
   needing a conversation partner?
last time i've heard...
was... the best conversation spar
you'll ever have...
is when your ego stops
pretending it "thinks"...
      the ego does as much thinking
as the id hides behind
the unconscious
mechanical perfection of the heartbeat!
****!
          honestly...
once i'm being fed new music by
someone like jools holland,
and the ***** / whiskey keeps flowing?
why would i subject a woman
to something my grandmother
would call a misery challenged
by hell, which she describes my
uncle's life as, whenever he shackled down
to a brief relationship status?
senile? infertile?
    oh i'm pretty sure my genetic
analogue is going to prosper...
   i'm checking out...
           as a child i was forced
to eat raw garlic to help me recovering
from a cold...
         this, current, ****?
i'm eating none of it...
             i'll be asking Satan for a slice
of pork...
   given it's the new, forbidden
"fruit"...
               shove it down my mouth
or feed it through my ***...
whatever...
                   when i loved women,
i loved women...
       but...
           ever, by accident,
eat a bay leaf?!
         i can do sour, i can do sweet
in whatever excess...
salty... well... just get some sea water
through your nose...
but bitter?!
   can't stomach that ****...
a statement akin to:
no offense is not really going
to work here...
                  i tried to figure why
being alone didn't intimidate me,
why i was alone,
but not lonely...
   and i figured...
  for what i write?
    i'm pretty much cognitively
impaired...
    i'm pretty much worth
the sinking / drowning sensation
of a watermelon lodged into
a puddle of rain with a depth of
half an inch.

Chapter 1- The Saga of the Dragon-Power and Federation Battlefare
Stanza 1-Lady of the Night
You’re such a parcel, but not much of a marvel, you lack a price
But that is good because now we have the Oathed Sacrifice!
Such was the words when Dragon-Man stood before his main foe.
He dare not think what types of devices Drent had for pain though.
Dragon-man was taken off the Lynxian Road and it was a horror soon.
I was watching with my cousins one of the last of the Saturday morning cartoons.
My cousins watched for more, I had already seen it all twenty years before.
I was just shocked that they would show Dragon-Man to Generation Y
Dragon-Man looked to me now like one of those ventilation guys.
I could see Dragon-Man smiling, and I knew exactly what that smile meant.
Because he needed the Composi crossbow, and he could only get it from vile Drent.
The arrows were like missiles that sought out and broke down the body.
It was the type of weapon so strong, it was almost ungodly.

The Abyss-Sword, tell me what does it feel like to be killed by your own weapon.
Dragon-Man replied with a smirk, I don’t know you tell me, and got to steppin.
He reached for the Composi crossbow, but it was snatched away by a Brackti Guard.
**** him with the full arsenal we have, and make sure his death is especially hard.
It is amazing that Dragon-Man could withstand such an onslaught.
He cannot stand up against it for long, with such brawn brought.
Some of the firepower gets close, Dragon-Man might not survive for long.
What manner of man can withstand such a powerful throng?
Suddenly, there is a noise, and all of the Brackti Guard fall dead.
Drent you might have to sacrifice yourself, said a voice that they all dread.
Beside all of them were gleaming bullets, which had a hole in them but were filled with lead.
It was the Lady of the Night, who came in with the Nike sling.
This weaponry was fierce and devoured enemies and their everything.
It also  made a hellish noise when it fired Byzantine bullets, nothing could stand in its path.
Drent suddenly disappeared because with the both of them, his death would be the aftermath.
You forgot your cross-bow, she said as she gave it to him with a smile.
What took you so long, Dragon-Man asked, I was waiting all this while.
You forget it takes long to reach you when you put yourself in trouble.
At least be happy I turned the Brackti Guard into pebbles of rubble.
Dragon-Man looked at the Composti cross-bow and this was good weaponry.
If he saw Drent it would be the last time Drent ever stepped to he.
Let’s go, I got the Paroah chariot, there is no time to waste here.
Drent probably went back to regroup inside of his lair.
Dragon-Man climbed inside the chariot and said “I will drive.
The Lady of the Night replied, I got it, because I want to survive.
They drove the chariot away, and Dragon-Man got back to his place
Little did he know that waiting for him was a criminal court case.

Stanza 2-Dragon-Man’s Advocate
Dragon-Man went back to his home, he did not have a chance
To take back from Shark-Devil the Winged- Fire-Lance.
The next day, he got dressed and went to the building.
They say work is supposed to be the epitome of fulfillment.
See, Dragon-Man’s alter-ego was Jonathan Maine, Esquire.
This is what he would do if he ever had to retire.
But when he got to his desk, there were police all around.
Who told him to get down on the floor and put hands on the ground.
Jonathan never thought this would happen, a lawyer needs an advocate.
He was mad as **** but knew that he had to sit because he was bad at it.
Jonathan was brought to the precinct and placed in a prison cell.
When someone asked what he did Jonathan said I’ll never tell.
Well, well, said a voice and Jonathan instantly knew who it was for dinner.
It was Shark-Devil, also known as Joseph Grant, Police Commissioner.

I’ll let you out if you will work for me, Joseph Grant said with a’
smirk.                                                                                              
Jonathan sneered, Two wrongs don’t make a right so that would not work.
Well then, I guess your days of being Dragon-Man are over and done.
When I am through with you, only in your dreams will you see the sun.
Don’t’ I get a phone call, I know my rights and I know you know them as well.
Shark-Devil tossed him a cell phone and said, Tell them you are going to hell!
Jonathan picked up the phone and said, Now we have Shark-Devil where we want him.
The only problem is the court case, and to get the Winged Fire Lance from Shark-Devil
They accused me of assault, false pretenses and 4 counts of conspiracy and embezzlement.
In came Shark-Devil, holding the Winged Fire-Lance with evil in his eye
So isn’t it ironic that the Fire-Lance you so desperately wanted will make you die.
No need to go before a judge to say that you will not testify, I’m not that kind of guy.
Drent was an idiot, his powers were almost abysmal and worthless.
I needed something  good who would serve my every purpose.
Jonathan looked at the Fire-Lance, it was so hot and the blade was double-edged.
He knew I had to do something quick, or else he was in trouble drenched.

That’s not irony it’s a paradox, Jonathan shouted as I fumbled with my watch.
Jonathan pressed a button and the Abyss Sword came into his hand to launch.
So now we will battle in jail, Shark-Devil sneered as he changed into his form.
That is no big deal to Dragon-Man because that was where he was born.
The Fire-Lance was a marvelous weapon, good for melee or to throw.
But it was not as good as the Abyss-Sword at the brute hacking blow.
Suddenly Dragon-Man gave Shark-Devil a mighty swing, and he fell down.
This is not the last thing you have seen me, Shark-Devil said as he left town.

Dragon-Man pressed his watch, and now he was Jonathan Maine, scarred.
But now he would have to answer to the disciplinary board to not get disbarred.
He picked up the Winged Fire Lance, and that now made his weapons and arsenal.
The Fire-Lance belongs to those who can use it, and use it then well.
Now the lawyer needs a lawyer, Jonathan said with a sigh.
One of the prisoners said to him, I think I know a guy.
Jonathan picked up the phone, the one call did not now apply
The voice on the other end said, Don’t worry, I’ll get the charges dropped.
Now Jonathan just has to sit until he can make bail and get this trial stopped.

Stanza 3-We Are the Dragon-Power.
The dinosaurs did not die out, the survivors became the Dragon Power.
They left for higher ground in the Arurian Tower.
They worked on the Abyss Sword, Winged Fire Lance, Nike Sling and Composti Bow on their grind.
Because they thought that the power that killed the dinosaurs would come a second time.
To succeed where the first time, they had failed.
But they could not leave the tower, they were jailed.
I, Jonathan Maine, stumbled on the Tower, but the weapons were not there.
That someone malevolent would take them was the worst of my fear.

Suddenly I heard a voice who said, We are the Dragon Power and you are chosen.
To become Dragon-Man, and fight against our enemy called the Drozen.
This adversary is also yours, but our weapons were stolen by various evil.
Now you must go on a journey to get this arsenal back, and save your people.
I asked them why they could not fight, and they said, We do not have a presence.
When the Drozen fired asteroids at Earth, he disembodied our essence.
We could make the weapons, but we could not use these instruments.
But we will give you the power of disembodiment as our influence.
And here is what your people called a watch, it will tap into the power of Dragon.
But do not talk about us, no posts on social media or bragging.
I was astounding, but I was glad to have such nice bling.
Now it was the time to save all of Earth and everything.

The Dragon Power warned, Drozen wants to destroy everything, even the darkness
You will have to fight the evil on Earth, but keep your eyes on the ultimate test.
I took the watch, and pressed it, and instantly I saw the Diablo-Robots
The Dragon said, the power of the sky-animals on Earth was transformed to throw shots.
Because the asteroids contained a powerful source called Warbeuite.
We took some of it and used it to make the weapons to fight for good and right.
I just had one more question, how do you speak English so fluently?
People would walk by our tower and have conversations beside the tower’s sea.
I took the watch and pressed another button, and suddenly I was at home.
Out in the day, unbeknownst to me, a powerful being was getting off his throne.

Set a course toward Earth, he said, because this earthling will ruin my plan.
I am going to finish now what I should have done in the beginning.
Master Drozen, we are on our way, the Diablo-Robot said with glee.
Little did I know the strongest force in the universe was coming to fight me.

Stanza 4- The Council of the Faceless Tongues.
Drozen stood before the Council of the Faceless Tongues, kneeled before them.
He was the Commander of the Numberless Clans, and knew his superiors.
The Prefector murmured, you said with great confidence Earth was dealt with.
The Dragon Power and Dragon-man proves that your speech was myth.
Drozen replied, My liege, I was conquering other worlds to isolate the Earth rock.
Because to allege that I cannot subdue little Earth would be the worst talk.
The Prefector sneered, Maybe we need the Legate to acquire this oceaned planet.
And send you to a realm that is more manageable as a colonized hamlet.
Drozen urged, Not at all my Lord, I will make sure that the deed is done.
And by the end of my warmonger, there will be no doubt who has won.
I don’t want any interference, just let me leave and give me clearance
You are the Council of the Faceless Tongues, and I bow to you tyrants.
The Prefector motioned, Very well prepare your Diablo-Robots and go vanquish.
But be warned that if you cannot conquer this Earth rock, you will be banished.
The Drozen left muttering, I must destroy this Dragon Power and Dragon Man.
As the Drozen teleported to the Alieno-Mechanism, he called on the Numberless Clans.
Dragon-Man on Earth felt uneasy, he knew someone was coming in defiance.
But he could not face this threat alone, Dragon-Man knew he would need an alliance.
The Dragon Power told Dragon-Man, we must start to  form the Federation.
Drozen is on his way, and is coming to destroy by annihilation.
Stanza-The Gloryless Cause
As Dragon-Man he knew he had to find the Lady of the Night
Because she would vital for the Federation’s ultimate fight.
The only problem was that Dragon-Man did not know where to locate her.
He went to his house and thought, The search can continue later.
Suddenly the light turned on, and the Lady of the Night was there frowning.
So you would be in this fight without me after I rescued you, she said hounding.
Dragon-Man looked closer and saw that she was only clowning.
You know that I could not fight without you, Dragon-Man said with a grin.
And the best part is, you already are armed with your own weapon.
Lady of the Night observed, But there are two other weapons, and you have one hand.
Dragon-Man replied, I will recruit others for this Gloryless Cause but I will be in command.
Because this Gloryless cause needs the Oathed Sacrifice to fight.

I'll take on this burden to save, Drozen wants to put out the light.
Lady of the Night said, We can use the Paroah chariot as our battlecraft ride.
Dragon-Man wondered how the Paroah chariot would work with a fighting team inside.
Suddenly they were in the Dragon Tower, and the Dragon Power said we have to say.
That your collective powers together form the Nova Knighthood Way.
The Federation is made up of various Knighthoods to fight against this dire day.
The powers you have now are not enough to fight Drozen in his quest.
So we decided to fashion together a team that would have power to contest.      

Dragon-Man, you will be the Alpha Knight, and pilot the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night, your power is the Beta Knight, you will be in charge of the Gem Prism.
But what about the rest of us, Dragon-Man asked the Dragon-Power with surprise.
You must search for them, and remember, you cannot rely on just your eyes.
Dragon-Man woke up in his room, and sighed because he had a hearing.
It was at the end of the day, so when he went to work he knew Joe  would be jeering.
As Dragon-Man drove to work, he thought that he had forgot something.
Little did he know that an entity was not there, but it was coming.

Stanza 5-I will bring the War to Drozen
Dragon-Man took the letter from the mailbox and opened it.
When he saw who wrote it, he gasped and had a fit.
It was Drozen, who said I will bring to you The War
On a level your Earthlings have never known before.
You might have the Isotrain Mechanism but I have a machine
No use trying to wake up, because this is not a dream.
Dragon-Man crumpled the letter up and threw it away.
He knew that he had to be ready to fight right now today.
He contacted Lady of the Night on his Galvalar watch.
And told her to get here as soon as possible to this spot.
She came and Dragon-Man prepared to get the Isotrain Mechanism.
Lady of the Night protested, The rest of the team isn’t here or risen.
I hope you would get reinforcements and rethink your decision.
Dragon-Man said, With the Isotrain Mechanism, I will take the war to he
Search for Drozen across the worlds and bring battle to make us free.
The Iso-train Mechanism came, Dragon-Man put the Abyss Sword in the Damocles Stone.
It roared to life, and Dragon-Man proclaimed, Drozen would wish he left us alone!
Lady of the Night parked her Paroah Chariot in it, and now they were ready.
With the Isotrain Mechanism and the Nova Knighthood, the Federation is deadly.
Lady of the Night took the Elysian Scabbard, this would help to ward off injury.
They searched the skies with the Spacecraft scope, looking for their enemy.
Suddenly Lady of the Night screamed, Look at that light headed right towards us.
Dragon-Man turned on the Isotrain Mechanism and said, Engage Supernova rockets full ******!
Drozen and Dragon-Man are on a collision course, the universe will bear this battle’s brunt.
Little did Dragon-Man know, one of the Dragon Power was working for the Faceless Tongues.

Stanza 6- When our Paths Cross Again, Drozen will meet the Hades-Grasp.
The Isotrain Mechanism was getting ready to go take flight.
When a voice cried out, Don’t leave yet you need me for this fight.
Who are you, Lady of the Night cried, and how do I know I can trust?
What about me, Dragon-Man protested, and Lady of the Night said it’s not you it’s us.
I am the Breastplate-Bearer and it is my life’s fulfillment to be the Delta Knight too.
Because Drozen is coming after all of us and what we love, it is not just you.
I carry the Breastplates for all the Knights of the Federation to carry.
So we must be going on our way soon, we cannot stop or tarry.
Because The War will be the event that will define our generation.
And it for this reason that we are all warrior-soldiers in this Federation.

Dragon-Man said, You speak like one who knows war and does skirmish
Bring the Breastplates to the Isotrain Mechanism so it can be furnished.
Breastplate-Bearer also said, I have a Space-craft Vehicle ready to conquer.
Dragon Man replied, We fight to win, but we carry the battle with honor.
You can handle the Lifeforce-Seeking Missiles as your job on the team.
Suddenly Lady of the Night let out a primal, unladylike hell-scream.

A woman was lying on the ground, and she looked so close to becoming a vegetable.
We need to rebuild her, said Breastplate-Bearer, because she looks so dead and still.
There is no time for chivalry, warned Dragon-Man, and she is too delicate to dismantle.
Lady of th

with ego as foetus:
    i do get a chance to give birth
to a thought,
  notably a minor critique,
or, rather, digression from a
newspaper article...

all this posturing and lying
deserves a mundane truth,
   one that doesn't even
register on scaling historical
events: as ever having
happened...

             an article by
julia llewellyn smith (welsh
roots, i gather?)
               on a book by
        emma koenig -
           moan: anonymous essays
on female *******...

come to think of it:
   i always held a suspicion with
regards to this bounty...
  i never could envision
the sort of male ****** with
trust involved...
      
  once with a ******* i ate
mine, ******* and remained
silent...
           a sensation that could
only be replicated with
what brother zygfryd de löwe
  experienced, looking up
at a hanging noose on
a titilated by the wind hallow
tree...

       ever wake up with
an auditory hallucination?
          simply with the word
uchyl?
            namely - pry open
a door?
          only today i "think"
i dreamed of reading
the book of Job, and standing
before a blackboard
   with a rubric that read,
something along the lines of

- - - - + - - - | + + - + + + + +
- + + - - - - - | + + + + + - - -
- - + - - - - - | + + + + - - + +
- - + + - - + - | - + + - + + - +
- - + - - - - + | + - + - + - + -
- + - + - + - - | + - - - + + - +
+ - + - - - - + | + - + + + + - +
- - - - + + - - | + - - + + + - -

i can't say that's "verbatim",
but it merely represents
the excavation of a dream
where + / - were used...

         and a recurrent thought:
cognitive narcissism...
   **** mirror...
        apparently i'm the most
fascinating person on
the earth,
         although i know that's
a cheap thrill delusion...
          since i'm no magician:
it's a mirror womb,
   like any madman appears
to have fathomed....

but i was suspicious of
the female ****** for a while,
this... acting in the bedroom...
this, supposed clarity
vector for the impetus that
guides man...

             having taken "advice"
from an ukranian,
then a romanian *******...
      i remember vaguely:
did i just pay for a kiss?

      winners! and losers...
who are to mind
   the gravity of the plateau?
can't tell them apart...

****** her 7 hours straight
once, in St. Petersburg
just before i was to fly out,
and...
      you say she faked those
pseudo-epileptic spasms
mostly resonating at the altar
of her feet?

   i've had 3 pseudo-epileptic
spasms in my time...
the clenched jaw imitating
the crocodile macht...
     the gut-wrench:
supra-indigestion sensation,
and then the jitters...
  cold-sweat...
         a second birth...
the slain strobe body...
        a persistent vagueness
of the performance of
blinking...
                   pain like
              a disembodiment...
a death: with a near-life
experience...
         an agitated maggot
on the tip of a human finger,
rather than a fishing hook...

custard pie...
     yummy, eh?
    
  well... if no ******,
                            why not pain?
could just imagine the sensation,
thrill, and the Ural wind...
         beating me to the gallop,
like some...
                   forgotten smile,
laboured from a face with
    missing features...
               like the kind of tenderness
a womb is given
to superimpose
               the fraility of a flower...

how chunks of meat
can be cooked with attention...
slowly,
   as to not craft a makeshift
   McDonald charring scars...
of a... fast.

    so you're telling me
that through those 7 hours that
began with a **** me
sunset, to a ******* sunrise,
the pseudo-epileptic spasms,
were, fake?!

        mind you: it's hard to fake
a spasm...
                  not in the way i described
it,
        some nights after my first,
aged 14+, i used to fear falling
alseep with clenched teeth,
considering the fact that my first
spasm was
                   propagated by
a clenching of the teeth...
        i authentically feared clenching
my teeth...
      reminding me of the electric
potency of a worm, moving
down my spine like authentic
mandarin writing...

                     but faking an ******?
man will only know,
if he eats his up with a grain
of silence...
                  if all is thespian:
                                 then all is not...

justice already hangs in
the satanic compedium of affairs,
"apparently" justified
with man's latter fall:
             and you will not know,
the difference between good,
and evil,
       having miscarried the extremes
of a blatant index execution,
with...

             a ******* thesaurus!
minor-noun subordinates and,
lumbering excuses to play:
                   hide & seek once more;
although now?
      ******* off a few people
along the way.

the english: can't ******* hark,
can't ******* trill... the ****, can they do?!
   |ch| is not cheap...
                       couldn't laugh
even if i wanted you to.
       yeah: the "missing" O...

    so why bother with Hollywood,
if you have a Medussa's worth
of an actress, lazily occupying a bedroom?
    
i already said: i was and am,
       suspicious of the female ******...
till i became suspicious of mine...
    and: hardly lost it...
               hid it... in the ecstasy of
the drunk's laughter...

                 and the winner is!
twice removed actress
                     bulging in cushions like
a bloated tarantula...
                   considering the ape...
who is to tell me i'm not right
in borrowing the "metaphor"
      of equating women with a mantis?

too much seems to be borrowed
from animals
in the english speaking world,
  to further an investigation of being
human,
         too much has become
of the deranged, zoological tiger,
writing out a lemniscate
    to appease the democratic
continuum of:
             the tiger isn't adored...
                but the cage, certainly is.
              
a female ******... huh...
                  pseudo-epileptic spasms?
and this article?
plain outright lying,
   i never imagined people gambling
                                               with lies,
    but then again:
     i'll become, less naive,
on the day of my death...
  my pontius pilate hour of:
          you couldn't exactly ask
for a Parisian waiter to tell
me the secret of high-chin, long-nose
*******?
            who cares about lobsters?!
                   mind the Parisian waiter!

Paris: it's not exactly an excuse
       being Croat, speaking English in Paris,
missed opportunity though,
   je-b'a-n'ah      ku-r-v'ah              ma-ć!

and the winner! is?
           Zeus and Hera once debated
which *** derives more pleasure from ***...
but that, a woman,
   deviates from ******, altogether?
         and the man,
      becomes a seagull chick,
fed regurgitated ******* all the time?
   you can't fake pseudo-epileptic
spasms...
                
                  and i know what is and what
isn't considered a finality of
paying for an hour with a prozzie...
    considering the fact that you,
actually know what you're paying for,
when she's not being paid to
act the: pinnacle role...

               well: it was either to go and
see a priest, or a psychiatrist...
    but evidently the ******* knew
better... on how to educate me in
the art of: sifting journalism-on-saturday
diatribe...

                you almost want an
introduction of the concept of a sabbath
to journalism...
      
   but the missing O?
             leaving a man so gullible,
or rather:
                    i could buy into the fact
that i have a replica to "mind"...
   but being rejected from being
able to give, rather than receive pleasure?

she said it herself:
   a rare quality, for a man to mind
giving, rather than receiving pleasure...

to be left in a perpetual doubt,
                     is akin to being denied,
        which is hardly a happy phallus...
i like your supposed
   *liberators"...
                       looks like the "excesses"
of skin prior to circumcision have
a secondary purpose...
     christ, would you believe:
they can make a ******* out of that, thing?

Dragon-Man watched in horror as Vibrate readied her soldiers for war.
Such a force of arms was so formidable Dragon-Man had not seen before.
Suddenly Vibrate sniffed the air and said, I smell the hired gun of Dragon-Power.
Bring him to me alive so I can show him the destruction that is ours.
Dragon-Man prepared to teleport and Dialect grabbed his arm saying, We have to draw them out.
Here come with me, I can set up a perimeter and this is the best route.
They went through the forest, and Dragon-Man was holding his sore arm.
Hoping that Dialect was correct, and that his plan would prevent more harm.
Suddenly Dialect turned and said, Give me your Abyss Sword, it talks to her essence.
We can use it to send Vibrate an unforgivable and unforgettable message.
Dragon-Man stuck the Abyss Sword in the ground, and suddenly they could see through Vibrate’s eyes.
Dragon-Man was shocked at the pure evil coming from Vibrate’s life-force, she wanted only demise.

This is our last stand, Dialect murmured, and Dragon-Man urged, So we should go back to the others.
Dialect nodded and said, We must tell the Covenantial Project because he is Vibrate’s brother.
That thing has a sibling?! Dragon-Man asked in horror, They were a part of the Infinite Order
They were all in charge of the Manifest Blades, which were the Abyss, Templar, and Trifecta Swords.
Tyrus Animus reigned over all as the Chieftain Caesar of the Project Overlord.
The Covenantial Project was supposed to **** Vibrate but he failed so the Abyss Sword rejected him.
The Order broke up, because then the Covenantial Project was unworthy to fight Vibrate then.
Vibrate escaped, and Tyrus Animus told the Covenantial Project there was one way to redeem.
There must be a Federation formed with the Dragon-Power to battle Vibrate’s schemes.
Then the Abyss Sword went down to the Earth and the Dragon-Power examined its contents.
And used the Midas Template to make the Federation Weapons with their last disembodiment.
Dragon-Man was shocked, because this was the origin of the Federation.
But he dare not ask how Vibrate was related to Shark-Devil and Drozen.
Dialect took the Abyss Sword out of the ground and said, You are a part of this Order now.
Because you were not just chosen to be the Alliance Project to take Vibrate’s place, you were endowed.
So kneel before a former Faceless Tongue, and accept your incoming destiny first.
Dragon-Man accepted this sword with gratitude, knowing he would save this universe.

Vibrate angrily shook her head and said, Someone is tampering with my sight in my head.
Whoever is so insolent to use tricks to do this, I want him and his world dead.
Dragon-Man took the Abyss Sword, touched it and got back to Message and the rest.
He stood there gasping, as the Intellic Armor covered his being right through to his chest.
The Abyss Sword also transformed, and had a javelin, blade, and fireweapon capability.
It was just the sort of instrument to play Vibrate’s demise and do it readily.
Where is the Chietain Caesar, Dragon-Man asked, and Message asked, We don’t even know he exists.
But if he does we would badly need him for a fight on a godforsaken rock like this.
The Covenantial Project lowered his head, knowing he failed where Dragon-Man had prevailed.
But as a fellow member of Project Overlord, he had to help Dragon-Man in this tale.
Suddenly Dialect said, I hear something, it is the voice of evil that creeps in the shadows.
Message shouted to the Federation behind her, Brave manpeople, get ready for battle!
The Federation readied its Mechanisms for firing on who would dare invade.
The Covenantial Project and the Alliance Project each stepped forward with their blade.
The Covenantial Project wielded the Doctrinian Scythe that was ready made.
Suddenly Vibrate appeared to him in the midst and said, I was brought here by your bloodthirst.
And The Covenantial Project you cannot beat me, because you are cursed.
The Alliance Project shouted, Come down and fight us, or else hold your peace.
Vibrate walked in front of The Alliance Project and said, I have always wanted to see a Project deceased.
Suddenly her footsoldiers arrived, but they were shot down by the Federation Missiles.
Message looked grim in the face, and when Dialect raised his hand it became a crystal.
She raised the Celestial Blade Saber and Winged Fire-Lance to cut it off, as Dialect let out a cry.
He sank to his knees and Vibrate called out, I told you that who was in my head would have to die.
The Alliance Project switched his Abyss Sword to Javelin Mode, and threw it into Vibrate’s eye.
The crystals on Dialect’s hand broke, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
But the Battle of Paldon was upon them, one that they might not be able to leave.

The Scene and Sounds Invite


The mystery did Venus descend to a nightly wood invest her uncommonness upon the maiden fair she stood deathly still the moonlight
Turned her skin to porcelain white the black hooded cloak gave her the airy feel of disembodiment and then she moved it wasn’t steps
But a floating fluid motion across the glen timeless shadows she stirred into the mist she disappeared I will go back in this dream
For ever how long it takes till her hand I may take and with loves embolden voice I shall speak so tenderly the night air so brooding and
Heavy will easily bear its weight in the cradle of wonder she brought powers of the long ago chants amidst hoary frost the dark forest
Knows the call of sounds so deep only the deadly silence brings reverberation from a mere whisper a gasp would be the equivalent to
Thunder I seek not mortal treasure but loves essence never will it divide and scatter as dispersed light tinged in every single living
Expression how the heart swells as it dwells on delicacies forbidden to the casual visitor but come with a burning hunger for love
You will not know disappointment romance is in the tenderest shoot the tendril vine trembles with the slightest breeze it’s the portent
Of a mighty wind the heart and locks of a warrior has come into view love will wind and turn on its own path it will amaze lovers to no
End come and know private and secret dreams its breath blows in from coastal winds invigorates all before its march a song you will
Sing among all that is wild you are invited to play among Shakespearian hills and fields know uncommon heights carry new found
Knowledge over boundless seas to lands stooped in backward ways you will be their guide the crude and mundane you will over rule
With one taste of your freedom you will give them the path if taken will make them kings and builders of kingdoms

they say you will know
when you are dreaming
hands, clocks, mirrors
they say numbers will twist
letters will distort
an ugly tear will be ripped
across the fabric of space and time
but what if i avoid mirrors
what if i struggle with clocks
what if my fingers are always
too many, or too few
what if the material is torn ragged
and no matter how many times
i run my hands along it
i can always feel the stitches?

**** me in the 15th century, or the 19th,
i'm not going to be a fraction
culminating into an integer worthwhile counted,
while the english aristocracy of the polish one akin,
but whereas the latter sold the land,
the former sold the cities
with london in nigeria and elsewhere
with 500,000 pounds worth of square metres less than 100sqm in size
as was the gold in communism defined by state owned tag.
i think the two are twinned: the former sells off
the capital, the latter sells off the farms and borders;
one disappears literally, the other metaphorically.
you know what they say of the englishman:
well dressed but selling brick lane brick by brick
with jack and the many flamingo ******
giving the odd brick a crease of a chisel for some cheap dentistry.
i like me now, i don't want to be back here
in hindu talking about coordinating stars with copernicus,
or back here being nice. nice enough to publish a book.
take the greek into consideration talking about rivers
and the once chanced, because i'm hardly your
father reminiscent of the days before the radio;
all the while she spoke like a slav unto a slav,
with he slav, turning into a german
and she into a ***** -
because i have soul not simply a heartbeat and synapse and
the liver's digestion proceedings to take into consideration
calling it mechanism & disembodiment with itemisation of the body
looted for science - heart alone is no heart at all,
brain alone is no wavering thought engaged with.
but she said of a brother's death, and my heart said likewise:
a brother died truly in jealousy, because should love be spoken of,
there'd only be a crucifix to kiss for assurance.
i'll bring india to its knees due its care for tact -
and i'll shove the concept of reincarnation up its **** -
of course i'll have no book published,
but i'll not be reminiscent of an uncle allocating capricorn the same stature
of geometry of stars in autumn, because i'm sick of it!
too many western whites travelling to pluck a thought
from thousands of years of the priesthood of the ganges, "suddenly"
usurped from clinging to a population of the billionth remark
ready to instigate western society's complications of two point four and tax.
keep the white hippies wanting and the ageing indians serving curry
instead of theology! keep it that way!
i'll accept the existentialist dittoing method that way,
to use dittoing as an ambiguity of vectors intending travel
rather than dittoing finalisation of travel - without having travelled first,
of those words dittoed as finalisations of travel,
rather than dittoing the prior intention,
having only smeared a smirk of thought to
engage with such a word as god and not laughed to pull such a word
into the realm of i dittoing thought and thought dittoing i,
twinned to instil all other grammar not remnant but completely identifiable
with the external fingerprinting the emerald and speaking of the ruby
as if all coal was used for ink by sway of the crumbling charcoal dusted
onto the page - let us not ditto the words of finalisation,
but let us ditto the words of banality that lead to finalisation -
india and the ganges priesthood are where they are,
reincarnation is where it is,
we hardly need to ask for directions seeking the grecian river of once.

concrete flinging monkey that i am:
albeit albino -
tinged with himalayan salt hues...
   well this little detail of my working
limbs: concrete -
3 parts of sand 1 part  magic dust:
some water -
here's a dead-earth dough -
it's not a pizza it's not a pizza dipped
in caramel to be subsequently
deep-fried: it's not a scottish ingenuity
project for a heart-attack:
after all... a mars bar battered is missing...
oh my little edinburgh...
one of those nights and mornings:
having finished watching the matrix
trilogy and expanding on:
joys of 5am: being awake prior to
the cockerels shooting out their salutes
to the ***** of white noise and fat
on leaves glistening in: an abyss of a yawn -
the crags and st. arthur's seat:
big ******* volcano sleeping
in the middle of the town...
          such crispness of urban life...
the streets so devoid of noons and...
  buying that carton of cornflakes
      and some milk and enjoying a double
variation of crispness...
well concrete flinging monkey as i
were today: doodling my slow
in the garden... digging a trench for g.i. joe
soldiers in my take on world war I...
so the weeds (morning glory esp.) would
take to teasing its presence from my
neighbour's backyard...
  obviously there was a spider: a glutton
of a eye-fest... whether it was just finishing
its delight or...
           the moth: i guess it was a moth
had a missing head...
  so grand slurp champion was *******
all the details...
   i nudged it once, i nudged it twice...
that bulb of: bottomless pit torso that
probably arrives at secreting a web...
i nudged it once more...
nothing...
no nervous scuttling or having to parachute
onto a sponge of its exoskeleton...
i arrived at the posit: my little world
and my inquisitive lense of the microscope...
apparently a spider will not mind
being nudged by "the hand of god"
should it be eating a moth...
    hardly a lazy sod:
                  what's there to admire the a priori
argument:
   it's not like a spider learns
to become the architect of a web -
it's not like dogs learn to swim...
                     throw a dog in the deep end
and watch the gruff ruffian tread!
duck beast...
                    no... apparently you can try
and try to agitate a spider in the middle
of his meal... even after...
after the meal? the spider had to eat
up some cotton...
    like a bear might prior to undertaking
hibernation... to clog up the ****...
the spider started nibbling on some
of the web...
    and i guess they do that...
go hunting with a web:
                  at the opportune moment...
a day's worth at best to pass the time...
once the meal is over
they figured out to clog up the nutrients
with some of the web...
   can spiders take a ****...
but unlike agitating a hungry spider...
which will scuttle the moment it
is brushed with a tip of any sort...
this well fed specimen took things... lightly...
i could have... done...
the extension of "scrutiny":
buried the ubiquitous bulldozer of fangs
that concentrated on the guillotined
head of a moth in a dollop
of my concrete...
                       i just find it impossible
to **** moths... hell... some night
i'd a proud caricature of man in what
become a nursery -
            come sunrise i don't know whether
i am the graveyard
my mouth the last "search" for these...
        "refugees" from the torment of the night...
conversational overtones in this:
"poetry": it's not something to
make memory architecture of rhyme...
rhyme alone is not enough...
lyricism - i am not gorging on wishing
for a Keats replica...
that it might rhyme and be better
ingrained: a burning coal of fluid ink...
or that horrible alternative of: the haiku...
mash up: i write for the sake of not being
able to afford the paint the canvas
the brushes or the superstitious agony
of what's already preemptive in such
an undertaking...
                     but it's better tested:
      from this day's depth and its
eyes made most pertinent -
      (this shouldn't be hard...
all i have to look for is a -ent suffix
to match)
           toward some forever incessant...
my own limbo toying with body:
to later succumb to an anybody...
                lazily rhymed -
    lazily staged: for all the gold
of the leprechauns... k k k k koch:
                                  chasm and a miasma...
by god's sexless and the devil's
**** and furry *****...
   i want to rhymes...
i wants to rhymez...
               rhymez likes ping-pongs...
in another tongue:
the plural of echo: is not ecce for a cappuccino:
etch 'ere...
         crescendo bother: blues...
i forget there's painting involved...
no crisp solidified sounds:
   a tongue lapsing up a lisp and a labrador
cow-traffic of moo: st'...
                        from colour to a sound...
an alphabet ring-a-ding-ding...
in another tongue the plural of echo:
              ech...
                     not... m'eh... or eh... for an E...
which is first sung and later cited: eeee (longating)
e-ha!-o...
              not e.e.k.o.
                             prune juice fermenting
from drinking: god this brain this sponge...
spiders and spiders...
        spiders and spiders...
first inconvenience is also a staggering
remedy: failure on my part...
hangover from a love that lasted...
well... from april through to september...
           obviously impossible as i couldn't
just see the need to "pet" tarantulas...
           me and my fickle arachnophobia...
it's sometimes there: it's sometimes not there...
and "there"...
hell... if a louis zukofsky can play
the tender part of aristocratic verbiage:
here i come towing a guilty expansion
project: under the proposed guidelines
of: democracy... had i a tongue with
a sidewinding penny to boot...
that i might lisp or spit point blank
an empty fill: and... there would be an
academic career waiting for someone
as i might: provide... postmortem...
                 it's not an agony of
the overlooked...
it's just an agony of agony...
   for some per se pressure to peruse one's
own lack of detail...
to have to complicate the demands
of an audience as a...
  "back-up plan": B-project...
                         in seeking redemption:
or gravity -
   all i know is that i'm not a narrative
architect - i'm too poor to paint...
or rather: i have a photographic memory
and i'd rather make food that cezanne
wouldn't want to paint:
or debase by eating...
          could you paint still life
these days: no... not very: not really...
but i am not a journalist... either...
primarily so...
             i am a democrat on the level that
i would be happy to live
outside of plato's republic:
it's not like plato ever convinced that
figurehead of Syracuse...
                  so... spoilt eggs...
chicken strutting flamingos...
     red's an oopsie come blue and purple
is born...
that's not true...
green and yellow will yield blue...
fair enough...
               but as sure as death: i am...
big credit to punctuation as a revision
of: not anti-rhyme: but certainly not pro- it...
    because i'm constipated on this
type of exertion...
i want as much of the holy fire of lyricism
to burn a mark on the cinema of
memory...
   but... alas: here's my 2nd best take
on this not being tabloid journalism...
               - so how come everyone started
to write: cute?
i mean: if not a cute rhyme then...
some variation of the exasperated haiku?
  - sputnik...
           in sight a digression rubric...
it's the same idea:
   - sputnik
   - moon shards
    - elevations of comparisons
   to match up to a meteor crater with
a slice of apple crumble...
    - sound is most certainly not colour...
- could i call nouns primes:
  or numbers? odd... even...
             red elepahant 1 G
              blue sky 0 K
              horrible hat 9 pro
circus envy... esp. clown envy...
                        this couldn't possibly be...
tabloid journalism...
or "poetry"... it's how far democracy
allows itself the pursuit of: ideals
with a hint of veto... for the pardon
of the status quo hierarchy...
                 concrete flinging monkey...
- robert duncan: nee san francisco -
i write by eyes alone -
i neuter the sounds employed
to challenge like neither *** -
best unscripted and that...
       metaphor of metaphysics
                collage of misnomers -
at best...
                     having to sit with
a slab of lard on your head at noon -
       this least grammar this last exasperation...
a furniture of a "poem"...
an earthworm's guide / guise of the tongue...
wriggling away at the benign...
        postcards and a slick licking of
postage stamps...
                 i forget to pause: i pause...
i paint with this bothersome blood of ink...
the crisis at the revisited crux...
stale europe dying h'america...
                i have yet to read anything
i have written aloud...
   i have yet to read anything i have written
aloud...
i have yet to read anything
i have written aloud:
resonance...
                    revelation 13:5...
          the beast was given a mouth to utter
proud words and blasphemies and
               to exercise its authority
  (for forty-two months)...
time a forgotten space...
or at best: a concentrated suffice of it...
a most bearable 10am in september...
i'd like to think i can't be
exasperated... or i might just:
jest at overt-punctuation...
          - written as pure eyes and
a beethoven towing deaf-        -ness...
    too much of: jack of all trades...
- we once had a "pardon" of handwriting,
in that we once employed a quill
and a detail of ink -
but not now but not now
of this clicking machinery like
chickens' pecking grains or letters...
         spiders and spiders and all those
freelance romantics...
a democracy of language that can
escape a caging formality to the endearing
dear sir, kind regards essay / letter...
language in a tuxedo...
language of escapism...
that one might treat a watermelon
as driftwood... or the crucifix as such...
  - that this can be a language that cannot
be a mechanised slaughter -
  for a throw-away: a 20th century admiration
for some variation of the "up-to-date"...
i am having to diminish
the base of an argued for: carpenter...
by bone... by bone... by each...
carrying of the vowels without:
the pentagram soliloquy -
           that could only be a variation
of rhetoric without an eagering of an audience...
this ingrained son of sam
this glittering blood feud of nights...
a line of an exasperation...
and each and every akin to this "maxim"...
because this is not tabloid journalism...
and it's not because it's
a democratic avenue of would-be squalor...
my niche partitioning
between those literate and those:
hardening a candyfloss of tortures:
       born air: settled in a tomb of fire...
born water: settled in the double sediment
that's once a breathing air comb
into frets of grain...
and earthworm wriggling...
now cement... malicious albino ape jester:
my little evil at the passable concern for
salt and the himalayas...
in that i work on the worth of:
teasing clone i - not in english not in english:
but in english...
  in this... tongue that's a best
butchered body of... a scrutiny that's
almost a... verifying anatomy... best:
   brick by ******* stacked...
a harbour of anathema and dangling
posits of: walking-9-to-5 abortions...
            high cue: but otherwise there's always
a managing of a queue...
that's bottom brass and godhad grey...
with a tease of a concept of hair...
balding snow on tomorrow's mountain...
- that i never hear what i write...
that i see it...
            i see "it" borrowed from somewhere
that has to be revised and revisited and
so-forth backed up renewed into
a ******* Guggenheim... renewing:
          new yorker slang and formalities of
rent... and... shackled up with...
dirtying the shells of oysters with...
prior the lemon and the glug of
the slugging: a word for lessening tourism of
Penzance... or anywhere in south wales:
cornwall...
         i tried loving the russians...
i tried loving the russians...
but then i had a mirage of a girlfriend
that had to tame tarantulas and i was
an arachnophobic tease -
                 - that in poetry the narrator is "somehow"
not the protagonist...
disembodiment via a section by
section - this limit of a candle...
this the kidney... this the heart...
but a "polyphony" of chicken hearts
towed into a broth...
          that poetry doesn't allow
a narrator... that i want to pick out a mask...
and i want tabloid journalism to spew
out of me...
this little detail this grammatical
arithmetic - sound of A...
and the syllable tease of a consonant -
impromptu question:
              asked in between: "in between":
what is a consonant K...
then again: in borrowed rome:
KAY is not the greek kappa...
what is the nurture of over-naming
and what are synonyms?
                      layers upon layers and
this is not a purity of jargon-jesting...
spiders and spiders...
                    - such that i believe in the anonymity
of readers and how i don't expect
a comment section:
   that bukowski made poetry pop
for: a gary snyder admirer...
  
  or - how one hundred arrows were sharpened
on flesh: and were dimmed...
because to crown this crude
metal creed against a stone....
and had to make coagulation of
frothing bloom -
extracting pauses to make a living
with taking wheel:
              burning rubber and burning
kites...
             burning threads and shoelaces...
dissolving sugar into
caramel...             an oyster that became
a tongue.... and a tongue...
its uttermost silence that could be
wrapped up back into a clean
residue of: biting / nibbling
for a piano... because never at a...

           such is the concept of rhyme...
that one can beg for guillotines
to... supposedly... "end".

from latin: a letter i can see...
a word i can: lip-read!
               not this... vanguard
of sanskrit and the glagolitic.

translate the letter to a status of a number...
whole: holes...
from nothing the sieving project.

The mystery did Venus descend to a nightly wood invest her uncommonness upon the maiden fair she stood deathly still the moonlight
Turned her skin to porcelain white the black hooded cloak gave her the airy feel of disembodiment and then she moved it wasn’t steps
But a floating fluid motion across the glen timeless shadows she stirred into the mist she disappeared I will go back in this dream
For ever how long it takes till her hand I may take and with loves embolden voice I shall speak so tenderly the night air so brooding and
Heavy will easily bear its weight in the cradle of wonder she brought powers of the long ago chants amidst hoary frost the dark forest
Knows the call of sounds so deep only the deadly silence brings reverberation from a mere whisper a gasp would be the equivalent to
Thunder I seek not mortal treasure but loves essence never will it divide and scatter as dispersed light tinged in every single living
Expression how the heart swells as it dwells on delicacies forbidden to the casual visitor but come with a burning hunger for love
You will not know disappointment romance is in the tenderest shoot the tendril vine trembles with the slightest breeze it’s the portent
Of a mighty wind the heart and locks of a warrior has come into view love will wind and turn on its own path it will amaze lovers to no
End come and know private and secret dreams its breath blows in from coastal winds invigorates all before its march a song you will
Sing among all that is wild you are invited to play among Shakespearian hills and fields know uncommon heights carry new found
Knowledge over boundless seas to lands stooped in backward ways you will be their guide the crude and mundane you will over rule
With one taste of your freedom you will give them the path if taken will make them kings and builders of kingdoms

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