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Yenson 13h
In translucent fog
in back street disingenuousness
our bargain-basement scums and guttersnipes
corralled their Mata Hari
and trained her to lie like a rug
but like the scorpion and the frog
our bargain-basement scums and guttersnipes
started making a big song and dance
about Mata Hari being a big liar
for the spawns of The Father of Lies
this is what they do
they couldn't resist the urge.
" It's in their nature."
Yenson 16h
They are not on your side
for they know you from inside
know you use blood money to reside
in your glass paradise with darkness alongside
they have witnessed the whiter shade of pale defiled

They are not on your side
yet your cowardice glows with pride
they celebrate your weaknesses open wide
as stooped against one man you beg them allied
pack jackals and rabid weasels squirming to turn the tide

They are not on your side
watch you gnashing teeth as you cried
and your so called power is milky cyanide
as you back stab mob and pander slander unjustified
and they rejoice their oppressors are kept busy and simplified

They are not on your side
its the cajoled indulging the undignified
its dud recruits seeing envious racists now personified
its neon lies and their gross innards now exposed and calcified
not in your union but now knows what you really are unmodified
Yenson 2d
Which one of you
has the wherewithal
to find somewhere quiet
and go within to break your trance
and reclaim your minds and your heads
are you enough to see how you have been played
tuned into a frenzied wayward ditty
dulled into colic twang belchers
strummed in hapless reefs
plucked duds on frets
orchestration of vapid
bums in *** encore
you've been played
arranged scored
in *** notes
they groove
in derision
yet know
nowt
Yenson 3d
Rimani! Riposati accanto a me.

Non te ne andare.

Io ti veglierò. Io ti proteggerò.

Ti pentirai di tutto fuorchè d’essere venuto a me, liberamente, fieramente.

Ti amo. Non ** nessun pensiero che non sia tuo;

non ** nel sangue nessun desiderio che non sia per te.

Lo sai. Non vedo nella mia vita altro compagno, non vedo altra gioia.

Rimani.

Riposati. Non temere di nulla.

Dormi stanotte sul mio cuore…
Yenson 3d
So little old me won first prize
at an intercollegiate Literary Competition
it was quite a big deal
and I was the bee's knee for quite a while
shortly after there's me at a Girls College
attending a Fun and Social Evening
a live Band was dishing the tunes
***** teenagers were raging with hormones
I was sorted
my sweetheart's sister was at the school
my sweetheart could not attend
but I was to be chaperoned so that's that
anyway halfway into the evening
I'm outside the hall cooling down
up came this rather fetching girl
my chaperon was throwing shapes to James Brown
whose Papa has got a brand new bag ( whatever for) I wonder
anyways the fetching girl sidled up
who are you, she ventured
well if you must know, do you know who won the Literary 1st prize, I asked
of course I do, she replied instantly
and if you must know he happens to be my boyfriend, she added
before I could close my wide opened mouth
she told me my name
I gulped
yes, she smiled
we've been dating for quite some time
actually we were at the Cinema last Saturday
oh he's such a darling and so clever and cute too
do you know him she continued as she pointed to the College badge on my blazer
he's from your College
Oh yes, I know him very well, I replied, while wondering
what is this!
what's your name, she continued, I'm seeing him tomorrow, I'll tell him I met you, and ask if he knows you
So have you done the did with him I asked, now feeling mischievous
This ***** flashed me a knowing look, loads of time but don't tell anyone, she replied huskily
What! screams I
ssshhush, loudly whispered her
Then it happened
footsteps clattered hurriedly out of the hall
my chaperon had had enough of James brown and his Papa's bag
and remembered her duty
she yelled my name and asked what I was doing
I will never forget the look on Miss *****, my imaginary 'girlfriend's' face
have you ever seen surprise horror and floor-open-up-and-swallow
me-up-please, all on a face before, I did that evening.
Miss ***** flashed a last look at my smiling face and beat a hasty retreat
as chaperon dragged me back in, in a firm wristlock.

This story came to mind because later in adult life, I was to discover I have loads of clones doing or having done things I know
nothing about. I will not be surprised if one of them is an ageing
broken hearted silver fox in love with a black yellow sunflower who is now withered yet a battalion of flying monkeys have devoted their lives to preventing this clone and the orange or pink or yellow or grey or black or muslim or whatever colour sunflower,
who they say is now withered, ever meeting. Its a strange world!
Women tell tales, and knowingly or unknowingly it can sometimes have devasting consequences. People have died, been killed, damaged because of malicious or flippant tongues.
Yenson 3d
Whispering ghosts find their voices
in empty heads
and connect with those fighting their demons
not beyond the pale
fear begets fear in the embrace waiting perdition
where none is unseen
the toils of gasping spectres labours in chilled cold fires
where penance is the lives they live
the catcher waits for they who twist and shout in the shadows
Yenson 4d
from as long as I can remember
I laugh a lot
I laugh every day
I love seeing others laugh too
Today I heard someone say
I think when we laugh as human beings
that's when we're our most authentic selves
that's why real laugh is so ugly
its not filtered in any way
just pure unadulterated joy
hearing this
I understood a bit more about myself
and why laughter comes so readily with me
its that authenticity of mine
that unfiltered essence
that realness that abhors superficiality
the fakery that society imposes on us
the pettiness of humans
the fear that strangles and gives complexes
the poison of ignorance that blinds
the cancerous hate internalized that later becomes malignant
I am me as I am
positive unfiltered and quick to laugh
its probably why I shine from within
for even on my own
I'm still laughing
the prize of being
authentic
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