.does the concept of a misnomer, exist, within the confines of synonyms?

                       poets began complaining:
if we're not rewriting
         the brother grimms'
fairy tales...
   we're writing: about reading...
so what the hell
is up with the modern revamping
of journalism?
  journalism about...
journalism?
   and this legalißation of
homosexuality...
and the standardißing of
of transgenderißm?
i'm living inside a society,
that has abolished the concept
of the asylum...
      and i'm like:
oi! garçon! noch eine tee
   für mich...
             an dis verrückt
                  engländerteeparty!
- since writing about reading
is the consequence of
a landfill site ergonomics...
what is alt and Samson
journalism?
            oh look... another set
of people, who've entered
a problematic posit of plagiarism,
having to wrestle with,
yet another cul de sac scenario...
the nuestasi...
      i agree, there's a healthy
canvas of competition...
but... after a while?
  it's basically people slagging
each other off...
    journalists "doing" journalism
for the front-liners -
journalism as simply
     the editorial sections
of newspapers...
     opinion avenues, rubrics...
there's no longer a journalism
within the regards of:
what's happening in the world...
but...
  there's a journalism,
within the confines of:
what's happening in journalism...
the day had to come,
when the times newspaper...
had to run a page 2 story...
about a Toff Tinder dating app.,
about pseudo-eugenics -
minus the strict Nazis,
and more:
   those annoying English
aristocrats,
   who received, much more
than a circumcision when
     ruling over the Indian Raj...
mind you... it always bewildered
me...
   most european languages...
do not actually allow noun ascription
to letters...
   like the greeks might with
O being omicron,
   or A being alpha...
    hence me, among the "losers"...
well... because i have
a roof over my head,
and there actually exists a class
of employed
people in england,
that are, nonetheless, homeless!
    the latin alphabet,
with its Ah Be(e) Ce(e)...
                      ****...
just before they cut his ***** off,
the castrato at the Vatican: sang!
sang! ****** sang like a
Modena tenor... having his *****
squeezed, before having them cut off...
sung the alphabet...
   and... couldn't fathom
ascribing a noun... to a single letter
in the encoding metric...
            no surprises...
but it's not like tyrants didn't
need eunuchs to keep harems...
back when the plastic industry
wasn't in full swing...
   and you wanted to keep 200 women...
you basically needed walking ******
to keep the women occupied...
     so... a walrus bollocking
within the grasp of a, "sudden"
loss of stamina?
                 evolved...
like a tree made into a toothpick...
because... only some make
it into the kingdom of god,
imitating the monogamy of
the nobles, that are... notably swans...
the concept of
     widowhood exists among
swans...
                 sometimes...
among people...
        but hell...
                      this Bulgarian
******* asked me:
do you have a girlfriend?
   nope.
              - and the "affair" was over
within the confines of an hour...
the same emotional investment
as one might take...
   in killing a mosquito -
   omni corpus - nulla cor vel mens...
was that said, plaintively?
not really...
              no bogus drama -
   the sheep was still intact,
when the wolf left, satiated.

Out in the children’s playground
On the wasteland, near the flat,
There once was a shiny roundabout
They called ‘The Witches Hat’,
It hung from a greasy centre pole
And would spin, just like a top,
For once that we set it spinning
It would take an hour to stop.

They painted the Hat in black shellac
So it gleamed beneath the sun,
But stood like an evil entity, in the dark
When the day was done,
We never ventured abroad by night
For the land, we thought, was cursed,
With the Witches Hat a reminder of
Just what had stood there first.

Once it had been a Magic Wood
With Elves, and Grimms and Ghosts,
Witches covens and Goblins ovens
We heard about the most,
The land was cleared for a new estate
And they called the land a park,
But nights you heard the muffled shuffle
Of dancing, in the dark.

It was then that they set the Witches Hat
Up on a pole to spin,
One of us ran around with it
While others sat on the brim,
We always ran with it clockwise
Then stood back to count the spins,
For Mother Malloy had warned us
Never to turn it widdershins.

She said it would stop the earth, and that
The sun would go back down,
The Prince of Darkness lay in wait
For the Witches Hat, his crown,
We thought that she must be bonkers
And we laughed each time she frowned,
But never would spin the Witches Hat
Not once, the other way round.

But then on an Autumn afternoon
When the nights were coming in,
Mother said, ‘Take your brother out,
Go take him out for a spin.’
She wanted to clean the house, she said,
‘And you’re always in the way!’
So I took young Robin out with me,
He’d just turned four that day.

I put him up on the Witches Hat
And I spun, and spun him round,
But Robin was a querulous child
And he cried, to put him down.
So then in a ******-minded mood
And after a dozen spins,
I stopped the Hat and I turned it round,
And ran with it, widdershins.

It must have been almost dusk by then
For the sun dropped into the ground,
The Moon came up with a silver beam
And it lit the whole surround,
I ran as fast as I’d ever run
And the Hat spun like a top,
Robin sat on the opposite side
So I’d see him, once I’d stop.

I ran until I was out of breath
Then I stopped to watch it spin,
But no-one was on the Witches Hat
And I felt the fear begin,
I searched and scoured the land around
And I crawled beneath the Hat,
The little fellow had disappeared
So I ran back home to the flat.

I’ll always remember that awful day,
The day when the fates were cast,
I’d spun him into the future, or
I’d left him there in the past,
I shouldn’t have turned it widdershins
But now can’t bring him back,
At night it gleams in a pale moonbeam
That terrible Witches Hat!

David Lewis Paget

Security Breech Children
Risk, Listen or Don't
Harps Play
While Battlements
Thru Open Watchers Gate Adore
Listen!!
Here the Wind Roar  
Loves Vacuum Stealing
Fine Laughters Filial End
Drawn thru an Opening
Called
Obedience

I can't fly without  feathers
So why are you putting me in tethers
I can't swim without fins
And still your sticking in the pins
And pulling off that little dolls limbs
Like right out of the fairytale grimms'

Your vicious as hell with that voodoo doll of twine
You made in my image so it would be mine
I constantly feel the shivers run down my spine

I don't understand why you keep me here entrapped
And leave all of our potential so untapped
Instead you think I must be kidnapped

It's trust that you're so desperately lacking
Wish you would just relize it's not me that's been slacking

I can't fly without  feathers
So why are you putting me in tethers
I can't swim without fins
And still your sticking in the pins
And pulling off that little dolls limbs
Like right out of the fairytale grimms'

Your vicious as hell with that voodoo doll of twine
You made in my image so it would be mine
I constantly feel the shivers run down my spine

I don't understand why you keep me here entrapped
And leave all of our potential so untapped
Instead you think I must be kidnapped

It's trust that you're so desperately lacking
Wish you would just relize it's not me that's been slacking

Here come the Irishmen,kilted up and celted out,
about to to take the mic away and throw a smack into your mouth,
think they're ready lads?(nah I don't think so man)

No-one really wants a ****** sleeper hold from Sandman,
that's a pity cos your ****** rhymes are out of time,
cutting your umbilical-severing your lifeline,
save the fairytales skitz is reading grimms books,
looked into your future it was two words "you're ******"!
so **** the atmosphere,biosphere,feel the fear,
Grim Reaper in your sleep,lullabyes in your ear
like an earwig earworm but positive,
even though half the time the time things say are negative,
never mind blood type,rip the bag drink it off,
A Celt vampire,not sparkly with me shirt off
If I get me shirt off I'm Skyclad painted blue,
howlin'cross the battlefield to stick an axe in you!

A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Me word is me bond and me eyes don't lie.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night.

A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Speak truths clearly,me head held high.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night

See your guts drop,fullstop flip flop
just like 99% of all new Hip Hop,
what a mockery,you **** your pants in fear a me,
you're all the epitome of me me me me me!,
did me best to to help you out back in the day,
you spat it in me face so now I love your blood spray,
all brats,all backstabbers,not Celts,
if I take me belt off,the buckle leaves a welt,
across your facebones,skull+bones smashed bones,
are all's left if you step into the thunderdome,
to take a one on one,**** it bring your mates too
dental records-only way to ID you,
ICU will be your last place last breath,
you're literally starin' in the face of grim death
cause all your hatred is fuel for the fire-man,
its just like Thor shooting lightning bolts at Ironman.

A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Me word is me bond and me eyes don't lie.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night.

A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Speak truths clearly,me head held high.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night

You're so illiterate,words are illegitimate,
the Old ***** ******* Skitz still spits raw ****,
try try cry,cause you'll never reach the top,
best sounds like you're throwing alphabet spaghetti up,
*******,philosophy-horrorcore-got em all,
the length and the breadth of my mind is immeasurable,
so while you're miserable,wishing for some company,
I'm x'ing off the names on the list of who's dissin' me,
keep ******' me off if you want to,
I don't need a glock to blow a hole right through you,
use my skill set hackin' you old school,
modem in my left hand,right holds a power tool,
run,run,fool 'fore I let the dogs loose,
hip hop strangle hold,Sandman with a noose,
take a lesson in,kid you got your cards dealt,
whipcrack,smack!-you got a belt of the Celt.

*A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Me word is me bond and me eyes don't lie.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night.

A haon, a do. The only way to go is
a belt of the Celt and we're here to let ya know.
Speak truths clearly,me head held high.
And I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night.
Yes I've danced with the Seidh in the dead of the night...

the driven snow is driven bleak
and swirls of ghastly gorgeous
swoon in the nubile gossamers  
of undulating mist.
she is completely mad.
thought she saw a cat
perched in a quails beak...
singing cordial grimms
in a hologram
of dead love.

what are those petals in the iris
of infinity ? are they her soft hands, or papyrus ?
a sheet of hot winters, crinkling in the twilight
smelling of whale song and apple sauce,
her hair in a braid

of ravens.

what is this thing
that resides in our silences
threatening to reveal all
in that brief fearful moment
before the curtain falls?
a monstrous beast be it
like the one that the Grimms described
gentle in its grotesquness
it leaves its trace behind.
this paradoxical distance
becomes longer with each word spoken
like a mobius strip
twisted within itself
it leaves me craving for closure
Schrödinger’s cat I am
neither built nor broken

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        14.12.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

I can't fly without feathers
So why are you putting me in tethers
I can't swim without fins
And still your sticking in the pins
And pulling off that little dolls limbs
Like right out of the fairytale grimms'

Your vicious as hell with that voodoo doll of twine
You made in my image so it would be mine
I constantly feel the shivers run down my spine

I don't understand why you keep me here entrapped
And leave all of our potential so untapped
Instead you think I must be kidnapped

It's trust that you're so desperately lacking
Wish you would just relize it's not me that's been slacking

W. and J. Grimm were geniuses,
Characterized not only by intelligence,
But the way they implemented it.

They understood the magic hidden within common tales,
Retracing the rich roots of Germany,
Improving the way a child learns with each word.

Vor Gedichten und Gedanken
Weichen alle Schranken.

Freiheit sitzt dahinter, dort,
Jenseits der Verzweiflung
Wahre Freiheit ist:
Nichts mehr zu verlieren zu haben
Außerhalb von Halt
Singend, nicht schreiend
Im freien Fall.

Das macht sie so gefährlich.

Fallende Hunde bellen,
Laut.
Sie beißen zu,
Hart
Und oft ins Leere.

Ich falle auch,
Nur singe ich nicht,
Ich schreie auch nicht,
Bin lange schon verstummt

Fallende Hunde bellen laut
Und ich glaube ich verstehe.