put stat this what
bother upper it, huh?
battle wonder with but
mister think the
twisted figure shrink bud
from hit wink one
soccer stippled mink, yuh!

Considering some pages I've covered, quite immersed I can be in nonsense.
Nonsense, immaterial..
Nonsense, derailed..
Nonsense, abnormal..
Nonsense, beauty..
Nonsense, imperfection..
Nonsense, is doglike..
Doglike is godlike... Yeah, thought crime, alot of things considered too sacred to ponder.. that's the program, the matrix.. But with poetry, THOUGHT CRIME is godly.
Thought crime.. is
the universal law of creation.
the wonders of the world are born.
Civilization is born.
Solutions are discovered.
Guilty and escape or innocent and bound. Your choice.
DOG.
Dog is uncleanness yet godlike in all ramifications.
Jealousy.
Longing..
Pure..
Loving..
Ever accommodating..
Protective..
Peaceful..
Violent..
Kind..
But most important it's ever forgiven and never complaining..
It's the friend I crawl back to after given up myself to the sharp edges of sins,
as others fled seeing me down with bruises, it cleans my sores without disdain and accompanies me.
Can you be with a
MAD man. He asked.?
Mad
Not in violence,
MAD in words..
MAD in poetry..
Oh mad,
Have he just unlocked the portal..?
Making a difference with words is the "IKIGAI".
Orders might follow suit,
Breakdown one..
Two in the process..
Immersed in nonsense finding it hard to discover myself in the sense..
The MAD lines..
First timer in the MAD lines, old-timer in the LOVE and SORROW lines..
MAD lines are..
Sensitive...
Creative.
Adaptive.
In-Sanity..
Unsensored..
Derail­ing..
Dark humor..
Lies...
Liers can't make heaven they say,
But even when he lies he made it to heaven...
Why lit candles while going to the source of light, little ounce...
Are u trying to compare your Shadow with God's?
Shadow..
An object coming between a ray of light and a surface.
The twist is in the rays of light and the surface, which do you belong..?
Don't understand?
You are not meant to, just flow along the lines..
Until you get to the end of the rope just then a glimpse of light might appear, Hold on to the rope..
Hold...
The breathe.
The courage.
The life..
Yeah, hold, hold on to these lines Coz you might miss them someday..

twenty three twenty three twenty three
sin the leaves spent the free when in tea
sent to seem bentley ream really keen
forty six forty six forty six
torture brick court see lick forced he rips
more the ships for lean mix bore me sticks

twenty and two twenty and six
forty and three, keep kept that this
poetry poetry poetry

remedies is not only for something we can't pass
remedies is for everything that has broken
or just to re-new something
-
she learns something from her life, everyday
but she never had a chance to write those down

it's not a scam when she said her favorite things to do are reading & writing or writing & reading
reading a poem or her self-diary
writing a poem or a self-diary
she doesn't know if is a gifts
or just a hobby
because everytime she finished wrote all her poems, she re-read it, and she thought all eyes those read her words can write it too (with their own version(s))

in this, not-so, new day(s)
herself will embarks to write all the tales where she's involved in

as long as she living her life
this era is the lowest point in her life
she doesn't know if it actually is, or it's just she made it all low

she can't even say a word to herself
she can't even write what's in her head
she can't even tell anyone when she really needs a person to talk
all are just mixed up in her little head


she doesn't know if it is something like "manifesting" or what
all she knows that she can't figure it out yet
is it something related to science? like human mind?
is it something related to religions? like human relations with The Creator?
but one from many answers for the solutions (based on her own researches) is self-improvement
she is pretty sure that is something wrong inside herself
something to be fixed
something that needs remedy
but her body & mind are not so sure what is that (or what are those)
her body & mind are still figuring out

it's not finished yet
it is still figuring how it needs to be stopped
it is still progressing
'it' is this story, her story, my story
..

Just marking your absence
like a dog marks his path,
on wheels, and poles,
and sometimes on bed also...:)

To speak scientific truth and the ways of nature is now to hate one another, so it seems
Why is this? How possibly could spreading the good seed of knowledge be the equivalent to inciting violence or a hate crime? Humans are far too fragile, as they have been since the beginning of time. All these unnecessary wars, and for what reason? They begin by spreading facts or opinions that evidently cannot be handled. There is nothing more self destructive than humanity. The censoring has begun, and I reckon much worse is to soon unfold. Why must they defend so dearly, what does not exist? We are asked not to label, yet these people label themselves and us within the span of a second for not believing in fantasies. We stand subject to ridiculous trends, power trips, and the dangerous fragility of the human mind. Will there ever be an end?

i can
conjurer up words
mix delicate
intricacies of verse
with poetic license
i might defecate
upon scripted genius
   of the past
a scourge
on the eloquence
   of perfected prose
a pariah
with semantics
that hang in the air
like a frequented noose
the rhetoric of
this rhetoric
both dumbfounds
   and delights
the agenda of the learned;
to supress
the syntax spat forth
the phlegm and catarrh
of a gut
of derivatives

i could compose
a verse
for young lovers
   to cherish
if i could
only stop
the rot;
genius
   nonsense
      or ignorance
i couldn't
tell you
which

life is vaporous
life is sleep and within life vapour I take a slumber
limbered keen and nimble I kip travels
unraveling lumber
  the annual rings a lolling carpet
   life is but a pencil sharpener
at my shoulder
                a nap sacked boulder
peppered quartz for schemes
  as an investor in dreams
                          i am larval

mumbling some verse nonsense
gavel for gorge
clouted by The Greats
the knowers who silk spin
     the freedom of sleep and the imagination
                                                            into­ rule and bard
the thirsty claws of the snared dream
the shared laws that barter with hurt
even as though we know ;
'ignorance is no excuse for the law'
seesaw
         we ****** not forward with our 'self'
we have a trust of 'no confidence'
                      and an obedience to follow

i am some frown of traveller
        and a knowledge trawler
self-made unaware
an incomplete idiot with a knot of care
life is sleep and within that sleep i take my life
and with it
          any the fool that follows