Another Christian God has chosen in the spoken word
Scriptures to preach
The congregation the Minster wants to reach
The young Minster preached from St. John 17
A Deacon by responsibility
But a new calling in bringing the word
The theme, “Now here this, God is about Faith enriching the responsibility in spreading God’s doctrine”
The young Minster preached from his heart
However, it was the Holy Spirit was the start
Words all lead up to the direction of Faith
A creed one takes when one accepts Christ as their personal Savior
This is not a force, but inspiration to have everlasting life
The scripture is actually giving advice
But God wants all to get understanding, but never having to think twice
The young Minster preached what God wanted him to say
They were words we should live by every given day
It was a vision in every way
Walk on Deacon into the preaching talk
You have taken top priority being God’s sight
Continue to follow that path where you will be given light
It’s your short walk to Heaven
You are worthy in God’s eyes
You have learned understanding and that has made you wise
Heaven Bound with all the praising sound.

One Sunday night  a drunken man went down the streets about three sheets in the wind and bumped against a tree. Thinking he had hit a man, he backed off, took off his hat, and said,"scuse me,sir- scuse me." He staggered on a few steps, struck a man, and courtesied again, before staggering away.
A neighbor came along, seeing him stumble against a fence."Why, William! You need to go to revivals with me."
Accordingly the two set out for the meeting held at the nearby church, all the while William recalling what a hypocrite the deacon was.
Making his way down the aisle he threw himself on the pew beside the disgusted looking deacon, while Neighbor Jones took the bench behind.
As deacon Goodwench rolled his eyes in horror, William grinned and winked at him.
Presently the evangelist came to an eloquent Biblical passage and called, "Where is the drunkard?"
Whereupon William rose, folded his arms, and shouted,"Here's the sot. Blaze away," and proceeded to stand at his pew till the evangelist finished the verse.
The Reverend Crawford came to another Biblical passage and called out, "Where is the hypocrite?"
Nobody moved and you could hear a pin drop.
Suddenly William arose,reached over and gave Deacon Goodwench a rough nudge in his side. "Get up and take your med'chine,< Goodwench! Likes I did when he called me..."

Who put that crease in your soul,
Davies, ready this fine morning
For the staid chapel, where the Book's frown
Sobers the sunlight?  Who taught you to pray
And scheme at once, your eyes turning
Skyward, while your swift mind weighs
Your heifer's chances in the next town's
Fair on Thursday?  Are your heart's coals
Kindled for God, or is the burning
Of your lean cheeks because you sit
Too near that girl's smouldering gaze?
Tell me, Davies, for the faint breeze
From heaven freshens and I roll in it,
Who taught you your deft poise?

PLEDGE TO NIGERIA
By: Adigun Temitope Idealism


From between heaven and earth stand a perilous place
Where poverty kicked us on face
Tears stand as our drinks
Where hunger eat up our meals
Our pain is a poisonous laughter
Where sadness becomes our daily activities
Where hardship becomes our ambition
And sorrow our career
Still, we need to pledge to Nigeria

Blood, bone and oil,
Are the pedestal of earth
Where killing is a lifestyle
And ****** a hobby
Where humiliation becomes our take home
And misfortune our store-house
Where graduate works by the road-side
Where poverty is titillating and titivating before the mirror of our land
Yet we need to pledge to Nigeria

Pledge to Nigeria
Even when the birds refuses to sing,
When moon dims its light,
When our days turn into nights
When sun fails to shine
And flowers refuse to bloom
When life fails to give reasons
When dreams refuse to forgive
When the weep inside birth the smile outside
When tears wash hope from our sight
Nigeria must still be pledge to

I pledge to Nigeria
Not to be one if the ambassadors that sing the National Anthem with a teleprompter smiling at them in a shameful tears
I pledge not to be a naked masquerade dancing at the village square
I pledge to steal government money for the poor when I become the President
I pledge to be loyal and not betrayal
I pledge to fight off vices and calamities with my pen
If democracy must to end
I pledge to go crazy to stop it to the end
If civilization was to make us stupid
I pledge to swim in stupidity not to be civilised
I pledge, I pledge

©2015 Adigun Temitope Idealism (Deacon)


#Muse #PurposefulPoetry #BPM #IIB #Asaplanet #ThoughtAndSociety #Poetfreak
blackpridemagazin.simplesite.com
@blackpridemag1

When it is completed, then it shall be good

and good is to me as cherry to wood

and wood is to trees, and to squirrel's and Bee's

and foxes that live in the hood

When it is completed, then it shall be good

still could not find her, she's lost in the woods

on bright sunny days, when the trees do not sway

they would swear  she could leave if she would

When it is completed, then it shall be good

and all that is lost will be soon understood

our eyes of no use, as to see from a tooth

and our mouth be empowered by ***.

pale clouds at the summit
water color sky
cattle guard at wood bridge
creek bed running dry

split log fence downtrodden
razor back in wire
sinkhole on the wild plain
grouse fields under fire

pine bug and a lone wolf
clear cut on the trail
stump lake on the open range
kettle valley rail

raven on the hatheume
slash and burn and scar
blasted church in a tired sun
wild rose under char

thistle in the hollow
quails nest sitting high
carriage house at lone rock
curtains of july

smoke jaw in the canyon
percolator dream
silver sage in chapel
schneider's requiem

stockmen on the wrangle
big horn antler chase
table top at sunset
deacon creek in grace

quarry in a furry
lines of tinted red
spurs and blades and columns
patchwork of the dead

past the bow hill junction
cattle ropes are black
indian amphitheater
saddle on the rack

sun is at a high bake
sedimentary stone
three days on the morphine
skeleton and bone

cold water road is lonely
corrals are cut and paste
gone but not forgotten
the dust filled aftertaste

The latest issues of Tales of Horror, is perfectly positioned in my bible. My eyes gleam with satisfaction as I read how a werewolf ekes out just deserts to a mass ******. A small chuckle slips through my lips. Barely perceptible but in church my mom has eagle ears. With swiftness that would leave the wolfman in awe the comic is swiped from my bible, and I take a smack to the back of my head.


My eyes get heavy. I lose the will to stay awake. Elbow safely secured on the pew, I lean forward as if I am enraptured by what the preacher has to say. Then let go, so close to sleep, a way to get away from the doldrums. The old man drones on in a monotone. Suddenly, he raises his voice. My arms collapses causing my forehead cracks against the pews. A red mark starts to form inching its way across my face like a mutant birthmark. Now I am awake. Eyes glaring forward.

     The brown baptismal curtain reminds me of nutty buddies. My mouth waters with the fantasy of devouring the whole curtain, like some giant trucker. A swelling stomach riding over my cliché buckle, until my fat explodes into some sort of creepy communion wafers and wine. It splatters my fellow church goers in some sick form of salvation. The pale parishioners panic then succumb to some unknown hunger feasting upon the remnant of me like a bunch zombies.  Freed from the need to be rational they rage on. Dead men and women begin to leave the church ready to infect the world with their form of living death.

A hand smacks the back of my head. Mother glowers, the intensity of her gaze is meant to put the fear of god into me, ironically.  The preacher carries on. Some **** about the armor of gods and the denizens of hell oozes out of his dry voice.


My ears ***** up. The sound of mighty warriors ring through the church. Savage blows bounce off the shields of saints. Angels scream, as demons pluck their feathers, plunging them into the furnace that is hell. Smoke fills the pews with the noxious fumes of burning flesh. The **** moan for mercy. Fingers try to rise from perdition only to be chopped off by the razor sharp wings of the Archangels.

“Back to hell you vermin.” The Angels scream.

The recently and expensively redone floors now wear a masses of ****** bodies, some corpses are demons, some are angels. However, all bodies bleed the same color.

Satan’s sinister grin fills the stain glass windows. A fury of wind shatters each pane, causing shards of glass to rain down upon the parishioners. My fellow church goers scream and run away. Their flesh is marred by bleeding scratches. Beneath their feet other parishioners are trampled. Moans of agony rise from the ground, followed by the rising white ash. Puffs of dark smoke swirl around and….

and my mother smacks me in the back of the head again.
“Pay attention.” She growls.

Looking at the clock, I smile devilishly.  It is time for the last prayer. The preacher passes it on to one of the deacons. A small stout figure brushes back his black thinning and greasy hair, and begins to pray.  

“What a relief.” I think.

Fifteen minutes later the deacon is still praying. He has cycled back to the same **** over and over. I swear sometimes the deacons think it’s a contest. They are trying to see who can pray the best.

A hand slams down from the heavens smashing through the ceiling and crushing the Deacon. His obese frame is flattened causing it to explode like a popped pimple. Red juices and slippery viscera paint the aisles.  

A heavenly voice scolds, “knock it off. People have things to do.”
A laugh pierces the pew.

I get another smack to the back of my head. My mother scowls.
“That is it you’re grounded.”
“Awe ****.” I moan and take another smack to the back of my head.

I'm looking to find my balance
Decorating it like valance
I'll bring plenty to the table
Talk about that spring balance
No more kidding around, kid's allowance
You want a real man
Looking for someone to stan
It won't happen at expectation
It will be a genuine donation
To your soul
When you're engulfed by the ghoul
Three strikes when you bowl
Too traumatized to smoke one
Good thing though, you don't want to be done
It's an unlawful run
Like you're afraid of Attila The ***
There's no need
To be swallowed in depression and other's greed
We all have our history of beads
That bog us down
You're not the only one in town
To have these emotions
But I might be one of the few to have that devotion
Causing intense commotion
You better bring the lotion
Because I'm making this swamp dry
Letting this fog die
I'm not a perfect guy
Maybe not the best buy
Maybe Geek Squad
I can barely carry quads
But I can carry you
To the shores
You can retain my core
These muscle remain sore
But I'd rather it be that way
You're the forever in the day
Unless you break my bays
Floodgates of acid
Don't like to come to this in placid
Or even casual
It all has to be natural
Call me super
You won't be believing your eyes
It's tough enough to realize
That you don't always need to be chastise
I like to run up the imaginary commas clockwise
Here's words to the wise
You got to read them
Carefully heed
Before you bleed
Out too much to grasp the rails
Carrying the pails
Dropping them horribly
I hope you'd be out unscathed
This pool we've bathed
Has changed us all
So refuse to stall
Face what's been breaking you
Because there's no replacing you
I'm not always going to be chasing you
So you better have a good reason
Don't force me into the feeling of treason
I can be your beacon
Your personal deacon
It's easy to weaken
Whether you're Persian or Puerto Rican
Same thing applies
The world can be full of flies
But you got to smack them down
Hard and ruthless
Just don't be shallow or toothless
I can definitely prove this
They'll devour you whole
Make sure they know you're swole
From the North Pole to the South Pole
You got it locked
Keep your weapon glocked
Firm and steady
So you're at the ready
Don't force yourself
To change to those peering
I'm going to be on the sidelines cheering
Snickering and sneering
It's all useless after the clearing
Do you want another hearing?
It'll be the same
You're born into this game
No need for the money and fame
You got that perfect level of tint
You're not desperate, you're just in a crisis like Flint
Everyone gets there
Under the rut
Under the rule of the oligarchs in the sophisticated tiki hut
Full breeds and muts
Are what they declare
But they couldn't be more wrong
We all don't sing in song
But the subtle singing still matters
No matter how hard they try to shatter
Don't destroy your bladder
Because you're growing sadder
Confront me, I'll drop it
Like the hottest mixtape
So I can fix your heart with invincible tape
Together we can vape
Just don't get too carried away
I like the bonding, let's keep it that way
Trying not to run out of things to say
To the likeness of you
What a beauty to see you swoon
Hate being gone so soon
If you were
That would be a tremendous stur
Causing me to say every derogatory slur
At the sky
Looking for a reason
Why this all transpired
You make my heart go higher
I'm not your sire
But we need each other
I got my brothers from another mother
But you are the rest
Pounding chest
Can you make another perfect guess
On where my loyalty lies
The last thing I'd ever do
Is lie to you
All these pictures I drew
All these planes I flew
The numbers turned into a slew
Nothing compares
To the Mary Sue
I found at the helm
I'll go wherever you realm
These gargoyles I'll whelm
They'll have to keep fighting
Cause my heart keeps igniting
It's a little freightening
But I'll make it work
I always do
Not always starting with the clues
But I can decipher all the blue
Turn you into orange and red
Making sure you're never truly dead
I won't ever imagine that story line in my head
Some things are better left unsaid
Give me your perfection instead.

“FATHER, FORGIVE THEM”
                            Luke 23:34
}This is a longer write than usual but well worth
time to read it.} GEP
       
Hello Friends,
        This prayer is possibly the most important and most
        powerful prayer of Jesus.

        He prayed not only for those demanding
        His crucifixion, but for you and me as
        well.

        This prayer of Jesus is doubtless the shortest
        but most powerful prayer spoken by Him,
        because it transcends all generations, back-
        wards embracing all of the old testament
        believers and forward two thousand-eight
        teen years and beyond to the last believer
        in whatever year that may be.

        Now in the transaction of forgiving, there
        must be the offering of forgiveness, and the
        acceptance of the offer.

        God, in the person of His only begotten Son
        Jesus Christ, has offered His forgiveness of
        of all your sins, past, present and sins we
        have not yet committed. But God being  
       omniscient knows  what sins we will commit to-
        morrow, and so included in Jesus' prayer
        was all our future sins.

        We all need God's forgiveness, because without
        it we are condemned to the Lake of Fire.
        We must understand, that "The wages, the payoff
        of sin, is death",  i.e. forever dying, yet never dead,
        always suffering in a place God did not create
        for you and I.  So  God has offered to forgive you. 
       Will will you accept His offer? How do I accept God's offer,
        you ask? You accept God's forgiveness  by RE
        PENTING OF ALL IN WHICH  YOU ARE NOW
        TRUSTING , so that He will open the gate of
        Heaven to you at the end of this earthly life.

        Yes, no longer trust in all your works of self-
        righteousness, but simply believe IN, not ABOUT
        Jesus Christ, as your sin bearer, Savior, Lord and
        Master.

        This includes all your religious works of
        baptism, church affiliation,  church serving such
        as Sunday school teaching, being an Elder, or the
        holding of some other position in your church.
        These things are all commendable) AFTER you have
        believed in Christ as your personal Savior.

       In’ Matthew 7:21-23 Jesus tells about some very religious
        people that came to Him, boasting about all their
        religious deeds they had done in His Name, expecting
        to be rewarded with entrance into Heaven.

        Countless of millions throughout the world are doing
        the  same  thing  today. You know what Jesus said to them?
        "I never knew you, depart from me, you who work
        iniquity"
       They called their deeds, "wonderful works" and in their
        minds they were wonderful, but in comparison to the
        work of Jesus' suffering and crucifixion on the cross
        for their sins, they were empty works of pride, self-
        righteousness.The Bible declares that all the works of
        man are nothing more than "filthy rags" in contrast to
        His work of righteousness. They would be like  supplying a
       small pebble when what was really needed was a huge two
       hundred ton boulder.

      My friends, if you and I could get to Heaven, offering God
      our little ***** pebbles of works, then Jesus'  death, burial
      resurrection was not necessary. But it was absolutely necessary
     for Jesus to suffer and die on the cross, so that God might offer all
    of humanity His forgiveness of our sins. Understand that He was
     not suffering for His own sins, because He was totally without
     sin. Jesus was bearing your sins as well as mine, so that
     God's law of righteousness might be fulfilled in us,
     THROUGH JESUS CHRIST.

     So how does that work?” you ask. Look at II Corinthians 5:21
    "For God has made Christ to be sin, (not a sinner) for us,
    (That's what Jesus was doing when He allowed Himself to
      be crucified)  He was made sin for us, that we might be made
     the righteousness of God IN HIM"

    So the moment you turn from believing in your own self made
    righteousness, you are IN Christ, and God sees you as one
    who has had your sin debt paid in full, because you are IN His only
     begotten Son and thus you have accepted His full forgiveness.
                                                                                  -   by G.E.Parson






        
     forgiveness].

        The Bible says that "The gift of God is Eternal Life." So Be sure
        to thank God for His gracius[gracious] gift.

                  For all questions, contact Jerry Howarth
                   jp.howarths@gmail.com




[Dad, I understand what you are saying here about ‘self-righteousness’, but I’m not sure that’s going to lovingly draw someone to Christ as it sounds like the writer is much holier-than-the-reader. Although it’s accurate, this delivery sort of smacks as an insult from someone they’d consider arrogant or egotistical. The result would be a turn off rather than a turning to Jesus. Maybe I’m wrong here, but that’s just a thought.]


“FATHER, FORGIVE THEM”
Luke 23:34

        Hello, Friend. This prayer of Jesus is possibly the most important and most powerful prayer of Jesus. He prayed not only for those demanding His crucifixion but for you and me as well.

        This prayer of Jesus is the shortest but most powerful prayer spoken by Him, because it transcends all generations backwards, embracing all of the old testament believers and forward two thousand seventeen years and beyond to the last believer in whatever year that may be.

        Now in the transaction of forgiving, there must be both the offering of forgiveness and then the acceptance of the offer.

        God, in the person of His only begotten Son Jesus Christ, has offered His forgiveness for all your sins, past and present and even sins we have not yet committed. But God, being omniscient, knows what sins we will commit tomorrow and beyond. So included in Jesus' prayer was all of our future sins.

        We all need God's forgiveness, because without it we are condemned to the Lake of Fire.
We must understand that "the wages”, the payoff of sin, “is death." That is to say, forever dying, yet never dead, always suffering in a place God did not create for you and me. So God has offered to forgive you. Will you accept His offer? “How do I accept God's offer?” you ask. You accept God's forgiveness by REPENTING OF ALL IN WHICH YOU ARE NOW TRUSTING. Then He will open the gate of Heaven to you at the end of this earthly life.

        Yes, no longer trust in all your works that seem righteous and moral, but simply believe IN, not ABOUT Jesus Christ, as your sin-bearer, Savior, Lord and Master. This includes all your religious works of church affiliation, baptism, church service such as Sunday school teaching, serving as an elder or deacon, or the holding of some other position in your church. These things are all commendable AFTER you have
        believed in Christ as your personal Savior.
In Matthew 7:21-23 Jesus tells about some very religious people that came to Him, boasting about all their
        religious deeds they had done in His Name, expecting to be rewarded with entrance into Heaven.

        Countless of millions throughout the world are doing the same thing today. You know what Jesus said to them? "I never knew you, depart from me, you who work iniquity" They called their deeds, "wonderful works" and in their minds they were wonderful, but in comparison to the work of Jesus' suffering and crucifixion on the cross for their sins, they were empty works of pride, self-righteousness.

        The Bible declares that all the works of man are nothing more than "filthy rags" in contrast to His work of
        righteousness. They would be like supplying a small pebble when what was really needed was huge two
        hundred ton boulder.

        Friend, if you and I could get to Heaven, offering God our little ***** pebbles of works, then Jesus' death, burial and resurrection was not necessary.

        But it was absolutely necessary for Jesus to suffer and die on the cross, so that God might offer all of humanity His forgiveness for our sins. Understand that He was not suffering for His own sins, because He was totally without sin. Jesus was bearing your sins as well as mine, so that God's law of righteousness might be fulfilled in us, THROUGH JESUS CHRIST.

        “So how does that work?” you ask.
Look at II Corinthians 5:21. "For God has made Christ to be sin (not a sinner) for us.” That's what Jesus was doing when He allowed Himself to be crucified. He was made sin for us, that we might be “made the righteousness of God IN HIM"

        So the moment you turn from believing in your own self-made righteousness, you are IN Christ, and God sees you as one who has had your sin debt paid in full, one who is IN His only begotten Son and thus you have accepted His forgiveness.

        The Bible says that "The gift of God is Eternal Life." So be sure to thank God for His gracious gift.

                  For all questions, contact Jerry Howarth
                   jp.howarths@gmail.com

there was an audience... there is still an audience...
i wonder about it...
i'm such a conservative deacon in the comments
that... i leave very little traces of interaction...
i tried getting ****** into the whole affair
of leaving comments - like i might have left
grafitti tags on the pillars of bridges...
                   there was an audience... there's still an
audience... i imagine...
or i rather: translate with metaphor what i'm:
trying to imagine...
              three moths have attempted to fly into
my room to spend the night free from fear...
i caught two in my hand... put the clenched hand
to my ear... no... not the sea trapped in a seashell...
close... sound effect of... rain on a tin roof...
a moth trapped in a cage of a hand...
it hasn't rained for days... weeks even...
       the most... bountiful of springs in england...
and everyone is... supposed to handle the affair
like the 2nd coming of ribonson crusoe...
          i can: because i'm used to it...
                    peacefully anti-social...
                     it's hardly bragging but:
there's an audience... there's always an audience...
here's to me: getting regularly milked...
or... laying some eggs with the sunrise and the moon...
i am... at a stage of maturing from...
a phase where... i did... once upon a time...
care about what i wrote... for my own gratification:
but... not any more...
         i've reached a point where...
i can join the ranks of the 4 Dada Suicides...
     'the four' (who) 'took nihilism of the movement
to its ultimate conclusion, their works are
the remnants of lives lived to the limit and then cast
aside with nonchalance and disdain'...
Vaché (overdosed)... Rigaut (shot himself)...
Cravan and Torma (disappeared)...
        the latter two... probably lived a life in
approximation to what might have happened
to... Richey Edwards...
born on...                  disappeared aged 27...
death is the last clue...
    not that i'm going to imitate what's already
claimed...
but... a mile from my home...
i can... find... ample resources... hemlock...
the stems are poisonous...
      i've tried... lilac mushrooms... dog mushrooms
they call them...
i don't know whether i ate a poisonous
one or not... it wasn't...
    a muhomor... amanita fly agaric...
           but... when the circuses have died and
the bread is still there...
no new movies... no sports...
what can beat: the old tease of mortality...
the grain-of-sand per month's worth of movement
added... to the tally and
the curriculum vitae of vivo per se...
                   the theatre of death...
     if i don't think about death with a joke...
i stop being... ridiculous in life...
                   i like the thought of death when...
life doesn't preserve any... sense of...
any... alternative... "light" entertainment...
it's not like i'm planning an escape...
rich and about to clone myself...
   and teach the clone "me" to be: a "future" - and me...
i almost can see how someone must
have tried to cheat death with the available
avenue of cloning...
but... the subservience of the clone...
the clone being what?
       someone must have learned the hard way...
i just interjected the question as an: and...
which is a conjunction...
          but if you're gonna go...
hell... seal a room and yourself in it...
and buy a... metaphorical tonne of lily of the valley...
go to sleep... and never wake up...
death... even death has to become entertaining:
in thinking terms - at the very least...
the only real eventuality among...
half a dozen of impossible things to think about...
daily... and here's that apple...
   if nietzsche... sentenced the source
and future disease from the 19th century...
well... so much for overcoming nihilism...
         nihilism... after all... is not... apathy...
   and even with the death of nihilism...
                              at least nihilism still asked
for moloch-esque sacrifices of will...
     apathy? what does this slug ask for?
it asks of you to... well... wrestle with yourself...
hence that "overlooked" quote:
if a day has many pockets...
       yes... those pockets of self-realisations that
provide a glitch of proof...
a proof of... having to find dominion in
settled dust... oh to hell with grand metaphors
of staging revolutions brought down
from mountain-tops!
- and i'm literally drinking my way through...
what 19th century nihilism became:
a 21st century apathy hangover...
      i'll spare the 20th century the rites of...
a mythical new beginning... a year 0...
        100 years give or take... each side of the end
of the 20th century...
but... nihilism is no longer... the standard:
to overcome...
             as much meaning can be derived from
a peanut as from a falling star...
to be this: subjective sanitiße everything -
                       i hardly think... a dickens would
require an objective reader...
what is an objective reader?
someone who studies: rather than reads...
newspapers...
someone who probably proofs reading...
by also ensuring citations are... made abundantly
clear... archives... etc.
well... better contemplating the theatre of death
than... say...
"normies":
    ahem... the critique of china...
       point: can you imagine... if... communism...
was thought-up... when...
the french revolution began? the only revolution?
rather than the russian oopsie?
well... and communism began...
when... engels and marx... went to the north
of england... and... prior to the manifesto...
wrote of the details of child-labour...
this is not my thing but...
it gets to the point where:
you can criticize china all you want...
but there's no smart... or dumb way...
to go about... pretending to be at war...
with a population of a billion people...
that... if push comes to shove...
could be conscripted instantly...
              to point out... is to exhaust the argument:
to have an argument for:
"western" principles of democracy...
here... have some balloons... here's a keg
of helium... 'ave fun...
by now... saudi arabia is secretly planning
a jihad into the Xinjiang province...
saudi arabia: the vatican of the islamic world...
is secretly trying to... blah blah...
no... the saudi princes are strapped to their yachts...
the bangladeshi slave labour blah blah...
yeah: but whittle ol' england needs
the Neds of Lahore and their tier up from
the chimney top: crescent moon-lick... slick...
- but to be this... fired up...
                it's simply exhausting to have:
a freedom of speech for such high demands...
not need to hide behind the ideals of love...
or being misunderstood...
             in no defence... but... under the guise
of that grand word: capitalism...
the sub- thorough: made in china...
                and what now? the jaw dropping
counter to the very delicate status quo?
it's beyond nihilism... when such upheld
values allowed for artistic rebellion...
to the moon: been there, done that..
europe the old man... h'america the newly
acquired *******...
       you want politico jargon ******* squeezes...
sure thing...
     stoic india... always the stoic india...
to **** off the competition - cheap soviet steel...
the soviet union's nuna 2, on 13 september 1959 -
in between: frank sinatra's:
fly me to the moon - 1963...
and thus... r.e.m.'s yeah yeah: 20 July 1969...
it's hard to compensate / compete with
that sort of a trojan hard-on ***** of
the elgin marbles...
                              at least the germanic peoples
played and understood the ping-pong
with the slavic peoples -
the hungarians on the side...
but not this... african trash for beijing...
the mongol capital of crimea...
and golden hoarding project: typo...
   when they came riding in... smeared
in **** and week old **** and horse blood...
to make... the labyrinth of the baghdad library...
a pyramid of skulls...
squeeze me: to this tired state of lost
the head to a guillotine chatter-box...
even the events of napster unfolding...
and all that's being streamed and...
now's the time to kiss and cuddle prostitutes...
and wet mr. whittle dicky for second
chances of a lost digestive... in that pond
of brew...
                easy fools to fool: those camel back
rich in dino-blood: soul black...
like espressos of mecca... flowing rich
and dying with a soothing...
from amnesia and diabetes...
and amputated limps when... sugar ingestion
leaves them... dancing ballet on only one foot...
because: porky pie and ms. amber: ha!
all bad!
                so much for... what's waiting
the white girl pornstars...
the liberated afro-h'americans and the service...
of beijing shrimp ****...
double edged sword... the height and...
all those attaches... of a fine... fine...
procelain piece of ***...
no-man's-land... the middle ground:
of... mercedez-benson-and-hedges...
        on my way out... the apache / sioux /
dodo / aztec / mayan / dodo (again) projects...

semi-closure...
   gary glitter - rock & roll part II
     ian watkins (of lostprophets) -
                      shinobi vs dragon ninja...
sorry... that one was a paedo...
              toddle-****** for the latter...
and it's not like... i enjoyed the music
to begin with...
i can't see an ad hominem argument
for the former...
                 toddler-******: esp. if the output...
well... it's not trash...
   it's: dad mantra... it's dad claustrophobia...
my take on:
mahler contra pergolesi....
            counter: invest in 100 years to come...
of which... you will...
find a future reader: being alive...
not having re(a)d you...
1986... the reader is born...
1997... you die...
you are discovered... come...
2K and 7... 8...... perhaps 9...
  a time-reference of...
         13 years from the readers birth to your
death... it's Glasgow... a very rare...
sunny... afternoon...
psychosis of the reader...
         1997 through to... 2008...
              that's 11 years... so...
what matters most is... how well you walk
through the fire...
that one about the crow and the madmen...
and each: having his niche:
his "social distancing" clause...
writing was fun when one could
stomach the: in the background...
when people lived their: very troublesome:
important... surgical precision...
nobel prize winning type / typo lives...
writing via a sense of voyeurism was...
well... hardly the self-evident blatant it has
become...
escape into fiction (lies you tell others)...
escape into imagination (choking ties of
tier-a: as above... with tier-b: as below)...
or escape into memory (lies you tell
yourself)...
but i rather the memory...
the cinema of it...
i forget to blink when: blinking is akin
to... signatures... autographs of famous people...
bull... shyte: philately...
         lepidopterology... half closure of the semi-
closure... a brilliant metaphor...
      when the **** or the latex gimp suits
are not available...
there's always that 14 year old "idea"...
of... a tamed *******...
well... if you imagine it as... love at first sight...
you're 16 she's 14... and...
you're dating her older sister at the time...
and then... she disappears...
within the confines of her first and last
unflowering...
but the pristine first-impressions become
less metaphor and more: idealism...
it's fun... when there's a concensus of it being:
forbidden... it's what drives both the hunger...
and the feeding...
that it's never actually realised is beside
the point: made... in... lars von trier's
nymphomaniac...
          too catholic of me: born into it...
but... repressing the urges... is as much as...
delighting oneself in them...
ergo: the necessary *******...
so much for... *****-******* and oyster
slurping... when... you have been...
ahem... told to **** it up...
with the: "excess of skin"...
excess of skin / chemical imbalance
in the brain...
how about... i allow... a triatoma infestans...
to quicken my: dementia...
the myth goes... along the lines...
a horse with a grain of sand...
via its ear... will bash and ram and ram and bash
its head against a brick wall:
in an attempt to rid itself of the irritation...
conformity:
cul de sac queers and kwerks...
i lampoon on a sunday...
the rest of the days i'm free...
clued into: cwown...
which is... somehoo: velsh... in parts...

- by death i imply a riddle...
                 by death i imply:
          freed from the cinema of highly edited
pseudo-living...
not even among the stage of the theatre...
but at least...
cinema got one thing right...
   the suicide of christine chubbuck -
the urban myth goes along the lines of:
a cockroach was found... alive... 2 weeks...
after its head was guillotined...
       it's like that... bane quote:
and... the andrei chikatilo... reality...
non-verbatim:
                 'perhaps he's wondering... why
someone would shoot a man...
before throwing him out of a plane'...
rephrasing:
   'perhaps he's wondering...
why someone would shoot a man...
after throwing him into a prison cell'...
unless... he wasn't... expecting...
to wait for him... to die... of a urban myth...
2 weeks if not more...
brain-dead: heart still pumpking...
horrors from Kiev... Chernobyll the *******
icing cream topping the gwand:
godzilla: pie in the sky...

     i cared... once... once... that was:
upon a time...
these times don't really require much focus...
the space itself poses enough
liberty... no need to look as far back
as there's to look forward...
     the 20th century killer: zenith...
****** and ferriswheel of events...
                waking up to the new mandarin
plateau... it's like...
waking up from... the refreshing cain
mythos relatability...
always from h'america...
otherwise... bullet to the head...
king soldier: human rights...
   yeah... nice... the shame of homeless people:
there's an alexander the great...
a a diogenes of synope: with a hippocratic
oath... loitering around the corner?
hell! go wit' the flou...
                 jump-start a prison adventure...
less... high morality ****-pants
asking questions on the way...
people of high morality
and high: low social status importance...
**** someone...
better than becoming philosophically
homeless... blah blah...
                         i'm so little i actually
define myself as:
at liberty to preserve the lives of moths...
yes... well that's nice...
for anyone asking to: ride the easy... roulette.

Deaths Of 2013

My third year doing this.

Paul Walker, Texas ranger,
driving fast leads to danger.
Matt Osbourne was Doink The Clown,
Paul Bearer always wore a frown.
Dennis Farina and James Gandolfini,
always played a mobster meany.
Peter O'Toole, famous actor,
Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher.
President Nelson Mandela,
Dennis Burkley, was a famous fat actor fella.
Lou Reed, is now on the wild side,
took all the colored girls for a ride.
Conrad Bain and Bonnie Franklin,
tv actors who had white skin.
Paul Blair and Stan The Man,
playing baseball, when they can.
Marcia Wallace and Lisa Robin Kelly,
both had ***** that bounced like jelly.
Tom Clancy wrote famous books,
not much on having good looks.
Cory Montieth and Patti Page,
one died young, other of old age.
Jean Stapleton, was Edith Bunker,
Archie always put her in the dumper.
Pat Summerall and Deacon Jones,
played football and broke some bones.
Dr. Joyce Brothers and Pauline Phillips,
they both gave good and bad tips.
Ray Manzarek, from The Doors,
Jeff Hanneman knew all Slayers chords.
Chrissy Amphlett, liked to touch herself,
Caleb Moore's trophies are on his shelf.
Mindy McCready and George Jones,
both hit those country tones.
Chris Kelly from Kris Kross,
Ed Koch is a New York loss.
David Frost and Roger Ebert,
always had words to insert.
Anneitte Funicello from Mickey Mouse Club,
Eydie Gorme almost got a snub.
Jonathan Winters, was very funny,
to come from Mork's egg, made him money.
If you don't know who these people are,
look them up, internet not very far.
For the ones that I missed,
please don't get to ******.