It was Life that was the stowaway
All those years ago when Death had found her,
So young, fragile and beautiful.
Only He wasn't Death back then,
No, He only became Death when His crime was found out.
He had let the abberation live,
and so He was tasked to correct His failure,
And end Her.
He learned with time there was no penalty for patience.
His punishment turned to collection,
Collecting back the pieces
Of Life untill He had Her whole again.
With every piece two more would be created
But He had time.
He watched Her flourish,
Watched Her gain sentience
Watched Her debate Good and Evil
Laughed at the irony
Of something breaking existance
Debating it's own morality.
Watched Her tear apart the Universe
And put It back together getting everything
Mostly right and still so wrong.
He waited till the last little piece of Her
Finally let go
Stealing up the last little heat in the Universe.
Finally complete,
He took Her newly formed hand,
not unlike so long ago,
And led Her into a new Universe
For another like Him to find.

+clearly, the ears, are pivotal: in terms of coordination - and the eyes too, but the eyes seem almost secondary...._

because i'm not a poet or a feminist or a vegan
or a combination of the three
because i'm not a vegan poet
or a feminist poet
or a vegan feminist
or a... i forget the quadratics
i like listening to Iron Maiden...
the driving instructor just said:
CLUTCH! CLUTCH! CLUTCH!
i said that with capital letters and exclamation
mark for my own emphasis...
so after i had enough spatial awareness
to go beyond the clutch for starters
on the field of maneouevuring
ontomatopoia
i will... leave a trail of spelling mistakes
because i'm so ******* excited
that i'm learning to drive
about to turn aged 39
and i'm also so excited about being
a man: a male... a man male...
******* narrative of the oppressed
peoples seems so strange when
you don't include the oppression
of how society starves for vampires and werewolves
and i wonder
but what of the LGBTQ++V/W?
what about the vampires and the werewolves
and the zombies and the mummies?!
i already said it to my wife
i don't need to say it to the world:
it's super serious it's super exciting
but after spending 30min with her on the automatic
gear box
and now the horror awoke and it was
big at first then shrank and became little
and i don't care what EVEN SHE WAS SAYING
shut up: the vehicle is alive i'm
flying
i'm dreaming
driving like this is a rebirth of the 20th century
since it was so freely avaliable for so many:
i don't care about spelling mistakes!
i'm learning to drive a car and not turn a car
into a tank and plow into a throng of people
at a Christmas market
or a bunch of junkies at Piccadilly Sq in Manch
Munch Ch'Ch'Chichister... **** yo boyo...
i had my highs and thankfully this is one
of them:
i'm not a poet i'm not a vegan and i'm
not a feminist:
i'm an example of some who says:
well... CLUTCH! CLUTCH! clutch before the hammer
of the STOP and the CLUTCH!
ghost limb and later an ego limp
from an automatic gesture
like salutations Hail Hishy Shaft and Shudder...
i don't know...
i went onto the balcony and thought about stars:
replied? blank... an utterly dark black almost
deep purple song alike so where
did the stars go?
but i'm not a poet a vegan or a feminist
i'm not a vegan poet or a feminist poet
as i am also not a something-or-other:
i just want to escape the cage
of riding a bicycle and swimming
and i acknowledge that people exist
who know not how to swim or ride a bicycle:
my grandmother...
hmm... i am just writing *******
and pretending to not think about
geopolitics but that doesn't really bother me
after all i might
end up being armed with a tank-of-potential
but i am no Shakespeare no rhyme when
once upon a time rhyme was cute and it was
written with intended rhyme so that actors
might remember lines
but we are not remembering so we are
forgetting so we are not going to rhyme...
why should poetry rhyme when there's talk
of emails and the wolf folk...
but at least i have the awareness of a cyclist
and a pedestrian now driving...
well... all i'm missing is a ******* ******
bullet and hole and aim...
because when all these proxy wars come
to pass and we gear up for Armageddon
i'll hope to be the last person to learn to drive
a car
when all the Japanese truck drivers slurp
and pray before their bowl of Ramen
and my stepdaughter breaks all her teeth on nibbling
on the dry p'ooh... oh hell:
words mean **** when you are given the feel
for a clutch and the two other pedals...

... and if there was a lineage of philosopher
and self-help gurus
who first learned to walk
before walking learned to trust an Alsatian
shepherd to put their entire arm into its gob
and before the people most precious
before the stubborn socio-political demands
for journalistic crab-bucket "democracy"
before some awe and yawn inspiring happens...
before all that
before all the physics:
i was young
and in mny youth i was supposed
to be planning a trip to the right of Columbus'
Copernican "prose"
way ahead in India and Thailand:
****!
i missed the plot!
All Saints: Pure Shores
with a...           Promise... Reyla and Priya
could fathom coconuts and peanuts
and elephants...
but i landed with a wife in somewhere
mid-/ late- Polynesia culture
and i'm just getting to the GRIT and GRIP
and also learning Polish Prison spreschen...
CWEL for a MYZYG another presidential
candidate and so much reality
is so Catholic in that it's so more distant
and sort of abstract in the geo-
geography and grammar and that part with squares
and algebra...
i think i have extension i call limbs
and limp knit picks and some other: ghosts...
but then again... i only have words
and i only have abberations...
hmm... and sometimes i call that love
and it's comfort profound to know
i was a pedestrian and a peasant and i've seen enough
because i'm so exited that
one liter of ***** will not get me drunk
beside there's a beyond i'm singing along
to a Christ Rea song on the M25
and i'm not getting ghost limb
itch because:
Mr. Mateusz the CLUTCH! CLUTCH!

then towers of time shine with a shrink
and the pools of the emblems of
space expand
and such is the trivial manifestation
of the mortal-play
that i found ?! and had a future
in thought
and went beyond mere ought-i and i-ought
and it happened so:
that from working within the confines
of earth
there was a heaven of answers
and a hell of questions
and the mediators upon earth
asked and asked...
but at least in heaven i will have
answers while
in hell i will only have questions
i don't think of Pavlov and
the bell chimes and rewards:
just give me the basis of infinity:
the basic square, magic:
the answer from which i can work with
and around...
not this salivating stupid... just the basic:
huh?!        aha!         hey presto!
if you think that god doesn't worry
about the existence of eternity you might be
quiet wong in the yolk of...
god is worried about people not having
the lost stomach to live to eternal...
sanity breaks like any machinery...
at some point i hope this fail-safe machinery
of planets will stumble:
burp... peasant *****...
but until that perfection fails...
we have hope
in reviving the smart
and the perfect engineering solving
problem and answers...
so until the planets stop doing what
planets might stop doing:
and we can stop claiming power of ingenuity over
the Devil because fire is less than
dirt from the basis of thirst
and need for problem solving
the Devil didn't know anything about problem-solving
so he was proud but if i'm surrounded
by people in an Islam pseudo
Death Cult and this passive Asian ugh
i want to get away from your \
Ninja breath-take-aways of
uncles and demons and
rotten ***** of the hijab....
      i don't want to live among Muslims... period!
get me away from these ****** junkies!
**** me: i'm getting arachnophobia feels!
ugh! get me away from these inbreds!
the Hindus know what i'm talking about
no wonder they are bombing the **** out from
these sand-*******! ugh! ugh! ugh!
i'm not a poet i'm not a vegan i'm not a feminist...
i'm just learning to drive a car...
a tier above laughing while spitting
at a camel
and teasing while ******* a crab
to valk STR8....        boogoo... who would have
thought that ghost need both bed-sheets
and cushions to borrow: boot... dunno...
New York stinks...
i thought i was heading to the Raj and Thailand...
i ended up in Hawaii...
if god doesn't live in me then
god needs no other place to live
for me to otherwise not speak: and him to: speak.