the self seeking*
white powder man
came
to consume her life
snorting
the only love
who'd ever embrace
a loneliness so rife

the relationship
destructive
to the soul
it propped her up
and took all control

an emptiness
he bought
a hollowness
in every facet
of his giving
the feeling of the muted line
so flippantly cold

she tossed away
the truer man's
caring
for a ******* frequency
incapable of love's
empathetic
*heart

gladly the birds sing
though skies be so drably lit
their trill resilient

oh i remember it well,
                        since it was the last one i had,
at university
     this judo black-belt started
teasing me: wanna fight, wanna fight?
huh?
            you have a black-belt
in judo, and i have only the experience
of casual brawling? you think
   i'm stupid or somethin'?
anyway, this last fight i was in happened
outside a classroom,
    year 8, meaning both of us were
aged 11 / 12...
         ever see a guy get killed right
before your eye from a single punch
to the head?
                    and you're standing, like...
5 metres away from the incident?
    no?       you should check it out...
i remember seeing it, a crowd gathered,
and all i said when walking away:
       that guy isn't going to see another sunshine's
worth of day, he's going to be sniffing
        pansies from the root up...
anyway, this last fight...
       outside a classroom...
          i even remember the guy i was fighting...
kieran o'ma-ma-ma-**-**-née...
   but at that age, we knew our limits...
body punches, i distinctly remember
  punching him in the kidney area of his back...
the teacher seperated us,
     then he started crying in class...
i just told him to shut up...
and mr. morrison's grimace just stole the whole
show... what class was it?
  c.t.d.             ******* with wood, metal
hammers and whatever tools...
         what's up with kieran these days?
he's a bouncer... standing outside nightclubs;
so who the **** can say, that wasn't
the best lesson he ever learned at school?
but come on... barefist, in the face?
you don't do that! that's not cool!
        body-hits...
                     make it go on for a while...
but if you're going to hit the face...
do what boxers do... wear gloves... for ****'s sake!
            it's just not cool,
esp. if it's a scenario of walking outside
a romford nightclub, arguing about a girl...
****** lay there on the pavement...
          and he just had that sort of "body language"
of resembling a coffin...
that's all i could conjure... like in loony toons...
     where a character turns into a *******;
****** ain't moving... ******'s dead;
but i guess watching a suicide happen will
be more traumatißing.

the education system, has been purposively
established, to errode people's (personal)
memory...
                if children are filled with rubrics
of alphabetical order (that's pointless)
given the chaos of ordering spelling that
contribute to writing words,
  then the current alphabetical order is senseless,
if we're talking genus (family)
of the two types of letters,
                 i.e. vowels & consonants,
it would make more sense (at least to me),
to group vowels together and state them first,
and group consonants together and state them 2nd.
the same goes with the rubric of multiplication
tables...
              how society has perfected the erosion
of memory in children, no wonder there's a chance
of succumbing to dementia of some sort...
me?
          **** that...
         my earliest memory, aged 4....
oh, i'm not one of these pseudo-mozart types that
claim to have solved a crossword puzzle aged 5
and wrote dante's equivalent of the divine comedy
aged 10...
              i have a piano, sure, and i play on it,
but all it seems to play is: memory.
          first memory then? my maternal great-grandfather
working as a watchman at a kindergarten...
   with me playing a toy piano,
   and him playing an actual piano...
  but then there's the case of the danzig zoo...
               it's hazy, but sure as **** it happened...
i was what, 5? so my mother allowed me to walk into
a bear enclosure... a baby bear was there...
      we played for a while, i was wearing a cardigan
with only one button on it...
             oh hell, mama bear was there too...
   but the baby bear bit off my cardigan button off...
and i remember running back out of the enclosure,
crying... 'he bit my button off! he bit my button off!'
**** me, the whole point of education
these days is only about eroding your memory
as a child... but the sweetest memories you can
or ever will have, are those from your childhood,
they actually act like, some sort of "placebo"
                    drug...
                         well, but if you have wacky parents
who prescribe you a.d.h.d. medication...
sorry... but you're ******, in relation to my notion
of the life worth's of chronology of events in a life;
sprinkle that with pointless memory eroding
education... and there... a perfect storm,
probably ending with a school-shooting massacre.

Sauntering by the edge of a calm sea,
I thus squinted through the mirror of time,
And there, I beheld memories of us,
Ebbing like a wave to a distant clime;
Wistfully I saw our golden moments,
Ineffable moments we once relished,
Away vanishing by ragging torrents,
Yonder sea where they'll never be reached;
But, betwixt my despair I beheld clear
Shadows of my heart despite cold as frost,
In a jiffy erupted with sheer pleasure
On sojourning to our sweet golden past;

Truly true love dawns once in a life time,
And in a lover's heart ever doth chime.


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
7th June 2017