°Don't get married to someone unless you've been together for at least three years. Five years to be safe.
It takes a really really long time to get to know someone.
°Just because you have a child with someone doesn't mean you HAVE to marry them. Ever. Your kid will turn out fine.
°****** is a choice, not a disease.
°I don't believe there are "soul mates" anymore. Or that you can love one person forever. People change, it's inevitable.
°Love is temporary. ^^
°Twenty-one Pilots *****. Their music isn't original, it's boring.
°Beyonce is even worse. She's definitely part of that group you don't speak of.
°Aliens are real. Seriously.

That's it for now. I know I have a lot more, I just can't think of them right now.

Foreigners are people somewhere else,
Natives are people at home;
If the place you’re at
Is your habitat,
You’re a foreigner, say in Rome.
But the scales of Justice balance true,
And *** leads into tat,
So the man who’s at home
When he stays in Rome
Is abroad when he’s where you’re at.

When we leave the limits of the land in which
Our birth certificates sat us,
It does not mean
Just a change of scene,
But also a change of status.
The Frenchman with his fetching beard,
The Scot with his kilt and sporran,
One moment he
May a native be,
And the next may find him foreign.

There’s many a difference quickly found
Between the different races,
But the only essential
Differential
Is living different places.
Yet such is the pride of prideful man,
From Austrians to Australians,
That wherever he is,
He regards as his,
And the natives there, as aliens.

Oh, I’ll be friends if you’ll be friends,
The foreigner tells the native,
And we’ll work together for our common ends
Like a preposition and a dative.
If our common ends seem mostly mine,
Why not, you ignorant foreigner?
And the native replies
Contrariwise;
And hence, my dears, the coroner.

So mind your manners when a native, please,
And doubly when you visit
And between us all
A rapport may fall
Ecstatically exquisite.
One simple thought, if you have it pat,
Will eliminate the coroner:
You may be a native in your habitat,
But to foreigners you’re just a foreigner.

My OCD is running wild again, causing me to think things
That I really know I shouldn't. The same things over
And over, and I know I can't escape the thoughts in my own mind.

I strain with all my might to put another thought there;
"I need to stop thinking this. I need to stop thinking this",
Like trying not to think of white bears.

Untill the cycle turns to another set of thoughts,
Getting closer to what I desire, but not quite there;
"I need to stop thinking this. I need to stop thinking this."

Knowing I need to stop thinking those thoughts
Becomes a thought in itself, and I know- I just know
They'll bring me to tears if I can't stop them;
"I need to stop thinking this. I need to stop thinking this."

Distractions! That's what I need! Something to stop the mind racing.
Something I can physically do without disturbing everyone else.
Softly I start saying nonsense words to myself;
"Monkeys and aliens. Monkeys and aliens."
Hoping they won't hear me in the next room.

Is it helping yet? No, no! Don't think like that!
It'll only last longer if you think about your progress;
"Monkeys and aliens. I need to stop thinking this."

"Stop talking; I can't concentrate on the words you say,
And it just reminds me that I'm still not okay.
Just give me a moment. Yes, alright then. A coffee. Fine.
Just please, please, stop offering your help.
I need to be able to do this myself."

"Unicorns, dragons and Boggel-de-rumps!"
Yes, yes! That's it! The nonsense poems you wrote
From the days you thought you were happy.
They'll help you out, no doubt!

I whisper the rhymes to myself, slowly calming down
Such joyous, happy, bouncy words!
How could I ever be unhappy with such words around?
Oh yes, that's right, I remember now;
"I need to stop thinking this."

And so I came to be.
There was only the darkness and the darkness alone,
Nothing but a tyranny of thoughts,
A infinity of dwelling memories raging like a blizzard
The enlightenment of dragging all the emotions behind
Burning, watching, trembling, there was just unreality and pathos
The stars knocked at my door just after God sent me a transmission
And so I realized that hatred and personal belongings
Are the weavers of all our systematic reality.

I feel uncomprehensible, not by loneliness but idealism,
An outcast from the current line of words
I was nothing but an uncouraged musician singing what I didn’t do,
A writer believing in aliens as masters, and Jesus as a mortal wise man,
Nothing but a mere child playing to be an adult,
Those are my dreams, this rollercoster of grudges and sighs
The universe hiding behind my glasses,
A presence in the Woods, some cheering and joyful man aside the road
This waves are screams punching my wall against my heart
A guillotine of desires and temptation,
I am not alone anymore. But still, I feel like I was just born.
Some call it love, I call it a muse revenant.

The City lights blinked out forever--literally overnight--with a sudden finality that caught even the most nuclear-winter-prepared/Guns N Ammo reading/Campbell's canned soup and distilled-water stocked/backyard-fallout-shelter-owning-survivalists completely off guard. Armageddon had always been there, sleeping just beyond the horizon line of our periphery, but it awoke fully clothed and ready to go to work that day.
It was an ordinary Thursday, just like any other. The MUNI lines were choked as always with angry elderly women clutching plastic shopping bags full of pungent vegetables, poultry, and recyclables as if their lives depended upon the contents of those bags (maybe they did) and the usual gaggle of gibberish-mumbling crazies talking to themselves with cellphones plugged into their brains, some without. 
That day, baristas were 5 minutes, 23 seconds late for work on a city-wide average. Bartenders were making their rent in tips as rowdy soccer fans converged in their local Sunset, Richmond, Mission and SOMA district faux-Irish pubs to watch the latest big championship match between Ireland and...some other country.
By Saturday, less than two days later, the desperate siren-blare of emergency vehicles, the insect hum of DPT tri-bikes carrying cutthroat ninja-sneaky meter maids ready to make their weekly quotas by slipping bogus $55 parking tickets under the windshield-wiper of your best friend's beat-up, barely-working mid-90s Mazda you were borrowing just for the night, and the cloud-cutting rotary-whine of channel 5 news traffic-report helicopters chopping through the sky had been silenced forever.  
As if sensing the absence of gardeners, street sweepers and garbage men, weeds grew out of the cracks of the streets and sidewalks with the newfound urgency of a wildfire. Leaves swirled through glass and concrete skyscraper canyons, settled, and slowly began forming mounds as if attempting to fill the spaces that angry elderly women with plastic shopping bags, cellphone schizophrenics, and drunken soccer fanatics had once occupied.
Speculation about how the End of the World would actually occur had always been a theological reference point for religious zealots hell-bent on giving the Book of Revelations some validity, but had taken on a tone of comical absurdity in the hands of post-Y2K pop culture and disaster movies. A horde of zombies rising from their graves and feeding on the flesh of small bands of living human survivors was one of the more popular, albeit fantastic, apocalyptic theories. Some predicted that robots would enslave us, some thought aliens would invade us, while still others--baring signs reading "THE END DRAWTH NIGH," arms stretched meaninglessly up towards the hollow heavens in the sky above--believed biological or nuclear warfare to be the most likely form of humanity's demise.
But by the following Thursday, speculation had become a moot point; none of it had mattered at all in the end as the power-grid of the City, and then human civilization altogether, had been suddenly switched off for the last time by an alcoholic rent-a-god, leaving the face of the globe devoid of any trace of the spiderweb-night-glow of terrestrial city-lights. 
Only the birds in the sky and the fish in the sea were spared to fill the blank pages of history that were to follow human(kind's) fading footprints.

*

Aeons later...
When those birds learned to read, they would see cryptic symbols inside a crooked heart jaggedly carved into a tree trunk surrounded by a mote of fallen leaves and ragged newspaper pages blowing through the streets like tumbleweeds.
Aeons later...
Those tree-scratched symbols would form the sacred commandments of a secret new religion built upon the ashen, worm-eaten remains of two skeletons holding hands and a ****** trail of broken hearts trailing from their ribcages into the worm-mouths of babes.

you may not believe it
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.
you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.
but I am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one
of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them
but they are
there
and I am
here.

Who gives a rats ***
If you prefer a **** in your ***
Or your **** rubbing against another
When did sexuality matter
I've seen the red of their veins
Pour out just as quickly as mine
I've watched as they understood love
Fat better than I could ever hope to achieve
Yet she can't marry her
Or he can't be seen with him
Holding hands an kissing
Hell I'll hug a gay man quicker than my brother
I'll flirt with a lesbian
Even though we both know
I'm going nowhere
It was never about who they dated
Who they decided to fall in love with
The only thing that mattered to me
An will ever matter
Is how they can show me what love is
What holding someone important to them
Really looks like
What everybody else thinks
Is just a matter of opinion
I don't give a ****
I can call a gay guy queer
I can call a lesbian a ****
And they'll smile with pride
They know who they are
What they are
And we're the aliens in the community
Thinking we know everything
When dd sexuality matter
I'll smoke a blunt with my gay homie
Drink tequila with my lesbian friend
Flirt with them both
Simply because I'm the one
Who's going home alone
I love them
Not because their gay
But because they can make me laugh
A hell of a lot better than my straight friends
Sexuality shouldn't matter
Personality is what gets me

A space casino painted on its sides
Its airbrakes hissing and spitting against the wheels
The charter bus clanks to a ***** stop
Its hatches open to discharge aliens

Optimistically rattling their walkers
And dragging their oxygen machines along
Spongy shoes challenged by the parking lot
Knobby white knees all rattling through the dawn

The moustache in his cool gas-station shades
Admires himself in the big West Coast mirror

I WANT TO TEASE YOU, TEASE YOU I SHALL, YOU ARE SPASTIC, DUDE I HATE YA

HANG ON, YOUR NOT LIKE YOUR NANNA, LET’S TEASE THIS SHYPERSON, BUDDY

HE IS FALLING ASLEEP, TEASE THIS SHY PERSON

I SAID, I WILL FALL ASLEEP, YA SEE, I WILL FALL ASLEEP, AND ALLOW YOU TO TEASE ME WITH THE COSMOS

YOU SEE, LET’S TIE THE SHYPERSON UP, AND THROW HIM TO THE ALIENS’

YEAH, I AM HAVING FUN TEASING BRIAN ALLAN DEAR CHILD

YOU SEE, I CAN SEE THE MEDICATION MAKING YA TIRED

YOU SEE, ATHENA CAME UP AND PUT METHANE IN MY MOUTH AND TOLD THIS DWEEB THAT

YOU REALLY CAN FIX YA TEETH IN THE COSMOS, IF YA TAKE THE RIGHT MEDICATION

I SAID, I AM WATCHING SOME SNACK OFF COOKING SHOW, IT’S PRETTY RADICAL

IT’S ABOUT THE LATE NIGHT SNACKS PEOPLE HAVE, AND WHO CAN MAKE THE BEST MEAL

THE TEASER SAID, TRY AND BE LIKE YOUR NANNA, CAUSE YOUR NOT LIKE YA NANNA

YA LIKE US, CAUSE YA HOUSE IS MESSY, I AM SURE OF IT

BRIAN ALLAN SAID, CAN YOU LET ME GO, AS HE WAS ******* IN THE NEPTUNE PUB

BY OSAMA BIN LADEN AND THE GUY WHO NICKED HIS LINCH IN THE 1970S

IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO GET HIM, REALLY, WELL, IT’S NOT, BUT NOBODY WANTS TO, YA KNOW DO HARM

YA SEE BRIAN JUMPED UP AND SAID, *******, YA NOT GETTING ME, YA ****

AND THEN THE GUY WHO NICKED MY LUNCH SAID, NO BUDDY, YOU ARE WITH ME FOREVER

WE’LL MAKE YOU TIRED, AND THEN SEND YOU TO HELL, WHICH IS THE SUN

BUT EVERYONE SLEEPS THEIR WAY TO FIGHT THE PERSON WHO IS KILLING BRIAN WHERE THEY WANT HIM

YOU SEE THEN SLIM DUSTY SAID I GUESS IT’S LONESOME AWAY FROM YOUR KINDRED AND ALL

FROM THE DUSTY OUTBACK TO THE GREAT CONCERT HALL,THERE IS NOTHING QUITE LIKE A DRINK WHICH

IS MORBID OR DREAR, IT’S SITTING PLAYING POOL IN A PUB WITH NO BEER

I AM GOING BACK AGAIN TO NEPTUNE PUB, YEAH, NEPTUNE PUB, YEAH WHERE WE HAVE FUN, YEAH

WE’RE GOING BACK AGAIN TO NEPTUNE PUB, THE PLACE WITH THE MOST METHANE SMOOTHIES, YEAH

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH BRIAN, I WOULD LOVE TO DRINK BEER WITH HIM

WE DRINK IN MODERATION, DUDES, AND NEVER, NO NEVER, GET ROLLING DRUNK

WE DRINK ALL OVER THE COSMOS, WHERE THE ATMOSPHERE IS SUPERB

I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A BEER WITH BRIAN, CAUSE THAT’S FAR FROM ABSURD

AND THEN BARRY ALLAN CAME UP AND SANG 1 2 3 4 YOU SCHITZOPHRENIC, FROM YA FIRST DIAGNOSIS TO YA CURRENT SITUATION

WITH MEDICATION, YOU CAN GET REFORMED, OH YEAH MATE YEAH YOUR SCHITZOPHRENIC

DAD SAID, I AM NOT GOING YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY, ANYMORE, DON’T BE SHY BRIAN, TEASE MY NEXT LIFE’S NAME

I CAN UNDERSTAND WHY YOU TEASE, ME, BUT DON’T FORGET THAT GIRLS AND BOYS ARE EQUAL, OK

THEN THE GUY THAT NICKED MY LUNCH SAID, OK, WE’LL LEAVE YA ALONE, YA NOT LIKE US, BUDDY, OK

JUST REMEMBER, ME, IF YA EVER TRY TO BE LIKE US, YOU WHEN YA LIVED IN WOODBERRY, I’LL TEASE YA AGAIN, OK

I was born in a city and time where and when
things were described by their name in the name
of realism and truth, uncoloured nouns of honesty
depicting society as it was fearing nothing
while no one took offence, as none was intended

in the atmosphere of autocriticism and self-
deprecating humour. In the countryside village
peasants called my father the Greek, as there were
no aliens other than us and the English man
who lived down the valley. Black skins

only existed on TV, and Africa was far more distant
than maps ever suggested. Our Ghanaian origins
were a mesmerising fable to the curious ears
of those willing to imagine exotic airs, indefinite
populations they had never seen. Italians

were used to migrate abroad in search of dreams,
though no one came to dream in Rome until, they did.
First strange faces appeared for myths to become
realities integrating slowly fast-forwarding thirty years
to see, Filipinos housekeepers, cheaper butlers,

Rumanians and Moldavians caregivers to our elders,
Chinese empires beginning with restaurants and shops,
Selling almost anything one could ever think of affordable
to all, now expanding to own bars creating jobs,
employers of impoverished locals and new arrivals.

Bangladeshis taking over once-was Italian grocery cash
and carries working hard, a 24/7 policy just for some.
Those who don’t are found selling umbrellas on the road
a minute before the storm, or taking polaroid pictures
of tourists at night when the gypsies come out

of nomad camps to sell, unscented roses to lovers
unnaturally blue for the day is reserved, to picking
pockets on public transports everybody knows,
signs are put up for those who don’t. Lebanese
hairdressers hiring young Italian girls, eat in Turkish

kebab fast-foods buying halal ingredients in Iraqi stores.
Only blacks in Rome own nothing but their shoes
and reputation. Those from North African countries often deal
on sidewalks for drug addicts playing instruments
sitting next to dogs on Tiber bridges as they beg

for one more dose. Though Egyptians mainly deal
with chefs, closed in restaurant kitchens learning
pizza-making skills, while Pakistanis make excellent
dishwashers. Turning back to blacks Nigerians,
Senegalese, Malians and many more improvise

themselves as clandestine street vendors
of jewels and fake bags, the latter secretly supplied
by Italian mafia-like wannabes. Often spotted running
away from police, packing goods in white sheets, held
on their backs as they flee, leaving fallen merchandise

behind them. Finally some remain unseen, straight
from heart of darkness and surroundings they stay
strictly on TV, passing from satiric sketches of the past
to NGO adverts crying out, for help against famine,
poverty and sickness, calling for action two euros a day

via sms to keep, consciousness clean, as we close
our eyes not to see, pretend we do not know, hiding
behind words we call, politically correct not to face, take
distance from reality and truth, disguise inconvenience
and uncomfort with ridiculously embellished, jargon.

Some exceptions obviously exist, as many manage
to live outside the box, though alas and do not blame me
for speaking the truth, they remain to date exceptions
dear to my heart, as are all the characters of this portrait,
scattered pieces of humanity, pieces of me.

Where blue meets black
minds meet to share mystery
a birds wing, the songs of astronauts
the silence of vast spaces stretching out
tiny space dust particles forever travelling
the scientists eye at the end of a telescope, scoping
aliens who made the choice to avoid war hungry Mankind.

I wish everyone
Would get the **** out
I don't even know why
I invited them to my house

I can smell the talking cloud's tongue bright bright yellow light's blank bride medium blonde Italian Shadow, a ghost alerted to the base of conscious events one morning while standing with a gun which she fires and the bullet flies; face flushed with color, she dropped the gun and went into therapy on the side; :: separator :: revolutionary ***** mother police this warm stand of life of life, we ​​speak loves **** bad as long as the horrible monster lying in the tiny germ of the United States General Fingerprint Girl listening to good sunburn lets poets among the colors to make it easier for Norizontal children to cool; The features of Paul, Fuchsian and fleshly skin new to the new nation as well as to the magnificent laws of the Great Hall of the Church in the depression of foreign aliens. Yeh, support the family, yes, the trees are walking on the opposite side, sitting and staying in darkness. Here, except all the toys, but Russia drew swords and fish, and all the special features of the leaves are green and the shoots of a Hunter's Spatula ... In our areas the king of China is mighty over Corsica and Croatia. Gray with many lawyers, states in the United States and Europe, Albert offers new men and women. Happy, blessed with good names, women, women, children, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, Paul, joy, holy tradition, Paul's Apostle, the first month of this year, the happiness, and the TV of Russia and Santa Clara Santa Claus. Clara, Eugene's army, the chaos of the United States and Italy and the United States.
____________________­____________________­_________________

Sandra­ and two dogs, dogs, canine casting, dogs,
in Africa, again, I want you better, Sinah, in Austin,
an SSH outdoor way, also think that the British hope
"deer, drawing of he did not have the mind,
the issues coming in the storm by fire,
I thought I was ready for a wise fool to overcome
the pain of his dark car, the pure spirit of spirit,
light and black Italians had fallen in his closet
with a room talked about above the knee,
the living room where the police are talking to you,
was warm for you, which was in vain, the fire
was growing up to be a witness for the damage
and to restore the body's strength, such as the short hair
of hairy Ivan, Usa, all wind, wind, rain and clouds
on the ground, the last songs, now you have to go crazy
with the colors of criminals. Just s FUE in conjunction,
cold flies, home meat and Paul kept his skin clean,
and his guilt was like the words of a young man
in the days before Well, it's like a big dance I'm looking for:
I have enough to remember YCHA's little yokes, pain:
I want to talk to my hands.
__________________­____________________­____________________

­dystopia; plural noun: dystopias: an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad, typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one. Utopia; plural noun: Utopias; noun: utopia; plural noun: utopias an imagined place or state of things in which everything is perfect. The word was first used in the book Utopia (1516) by Sir Thomas More.
synonyms: paradise, heaven (on earth), Eden, Garden of Eden,
Shangri-La, Elysium; idyll, nirvana, God's country, *****, ***, snooch; literary: _Arcadia           "it may be your idea of Utopia, but it's not mine."

\ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n \ n it is possible to be? bright, deep with three cheeses have a night of music and acid developers. But the soul of the child is the most green with its buds, the mouths of the feet of all those youthful years, the voice of it appeared in a generous and die of gold, queen of the cool colors abolished death, and was very angry with the cold, was a great change I desire to justify to you in the azure, blue, and gold, and the gold, Khan in October, many people had got out, and the song, as in a mirror, floor faced the most difficult man, but a rich, sweet drink patty the 2, George's carrots are ***, just made into wine, and the wine is to be given to the Christians, with his will he wrote this in Africa, the Christian name of Guy Wisdom, Christianity, George, history, the rich brown rye of FM, a young man, Kisukeya was concealed by the girl, it was degrading.                      

Top ink bottle modern jellyfish Ranpuhiru of contemporary Asian dream Anticinema Yamashoo robot picture image at Jack's Socks Center. At five the average social value which come in chains is sitting in the woods with a cotton Core, 2 from hockey to see Bob relay life to the Sodomi Yudaya football field and a Core 2 boar; Bob's devotion is to your heart station, 100th on the seventh smoking football, he thinks Stein Stein must understand the children on the toilet and in the corners of the corner UG Twig Ug to the Twig; the thick black pink beach Museum of clothing where the city sleeps with a witch in music paradise Chu, or 2 EMS Mary flies and marries a windy boy and pretty woman in January about the rainy season, ****** abuse by a woman with a pistol made of bread and Bee fingers; Warming up the rhyme to help poor Italy, monsoon. Permanent Glory Available as Typically A ribbon, and soon, a new color's new heat "colors uneasy King 'wins the boy' Robert White, Robert's noise, Homuesabi 100 Opera House, Silicon / 2000" bad example of the comparative example, the 2000 391 RB (600 100), the "Biogen FLATIC 100 2000 2000" into a large family company formed: "America's house of Excellence ", then the lives of Kabgokki.

Truth (2000) (a) "enough" Journal of Technology "by Jamie Winchester won the Nobel Prize for peace in the world." Of that war was in the dungeon.

If we’d carefully addressed our nuances
We wouldn’t be in this mess…
If we’d spoken to the heart rather than the heartless head…
If we hadn’t turned this planet into a closed and open hell…
Like a giant burning cruise ship full of mere shells, piercing into the earth’s former self…

We ignore the trees; the trees that show us magnificence and mystery; destroying their epic lives in a heartbeat…
But the trees whisper through connected fungi, working as a team for longevity, with no concept of antipathy…

And in dark forests on the sunniest days we still glimpse those rays of true beauty…

We still have a responsibility in our vastness to steer this ship of souls in the right direction, in conjunction with nature and all of it’s adaptations…

Why stare into one hole in a cave when there are a million different pools and palaces shining through the crystal cracks, all waiting to join as we chip away at a new haven…
Imagine what aliens would think then when they came to visit our shimmering, all-embracing, reciprocal creation…
I remember ones almost my age who saved this vision early on, looked at me straight in the eye and winked as I was gone…

Emperor patriarch enemy family
encyclopedia room flamboyance
and the minions of civilization bow
creviced foreheads etched
with hieroglyphic concentration
pantomiming the harmony of
banana splits dripping
on fireplace slippers
woven into the stories
your neighbors greeted you with
from the other side of the hedge

on the night the great comet arced
into our living rooms
and we kissed oh so
TV-like with the laugh track
clapping in time with the sprinklers
cha cha change the diaper ditty
after supper over done
under the influence
and in a fix
me another martini
extra olives
the smell of negligence
on her creamy pampered thighs
and the aromatic evidence
of lawn mower trim
on her teddy
bareness slipping away into comfort

the children wagering battle
plans with a mouse clicking
crayons left in box
cars matched tickets scratched
windows latched
onto
hobo toxic shock n awe
to see abandominiums
littering lots in crackopolis
virtual and simulated
between the in laws
and the outlaws
the grand apparentless routine
on display

could I borrow a toaster
or waffle with your wife
over the last stick of butter
backdoor banter about
Soldier of fortune
your last subscription
to the mercenary position of
the cul de sac coup d’état
taking place in spinning
class conscious of the fourth
estate third world second
generation first born zero
down home subdivisions
of the disenchanted
evening news is on excuse

that the whole thing is fixed
mortgages futures the lottery
tuition and everybody wins
army navy air force marines
corpses floating cross culture
reference guides to prescription
medication of futile society
Jonesing with the keeping
ups and out of product till
prime time reminds us
why we’re all here

waiting for the aliens
to excavate us.

its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of iPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coif
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

You Tube Music Video:
Black Eyed Peas
Joints and Jam

2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)

Yes
A war is coming
A great war

To all those Americans
In front of screens
Who just want to live the dream

Well its over now

Welcome to the end times America

Welcome to the great tribulation

I pray I will not be here

But with my Lord Jesus

Who I hold so dear

A newspaper reads

"People Disappear"

No, aliens did not take them away

But Jeshua took them up into heaven that day
To take part in the wedding supper of the lamb

Jesus of Nazareth
Son of the great I Am
Sent to save us from our sins
Yahweh's great plan

Repent and believe today
It is Lord God Almighty's free gift

Well anyway,
I pray that you do

Because the tribulation will be ******
Yea, like stinky poo

The government will be herding people around

When Jeshua came and took His church away
You may have just heard a boom
That's okay

For you did not understand
You were not following
The Son of Man

Now there will be a war going on

Antichrist soon to reign
Yep, he is an *******
An oh what a pain

When the chip becomes required

Don't take the mark
And praise The Lord
Endure until the end

That is the gospel of the kingdom of heaven

The pope continues with his lies
And its no surprise

For these are the end of days

The antichrist reigns for a couple of years
Yes Obama
Oh what a queer
And those sodomites
Will never enter in

I plead the sexually immoral to repent from your sin

Well
I have upset some already
Oh well

Life is short and fading fast
Only Jesus of Nazareth can make it last
In glorified bodies with Jeshua we will reign
For 1,000 years, and no more tears

No more pain and strife
Oh to eat fruit from the tree of life

North Korea, Syria, Damascus and Iran
Pieces of a puzzle, do you see the master plan?
-
Now it's Eastern Europe, Ukrainia to wit
Thank the New World Order, peace they'll not permit
-
One World Government, Dictatorial control  
Hail! Hail! Big Brother! The Antichrist extol!  
-
Blame everything on Israel, wipe them from the Earth  
It’s all their fault, it’s all their fault, all this pain and dearth  
-
Forget about the Bible, just a Book of Myth  
Listen to the Aliens…their wisdom and their pith  
-
Take the MARK! Take the MARK! In your forehead or right hand  
Burn in Hell forever, forget the Promise Land

ABDUCTEE



You’re a girl like no other ’cause of what you are. It’s not your fault that you got scared, cry at night or get so lonely in a crowd. Everyday you ask the same two questions: Why me? And when will they come for me? You get flashbacks of blinding pain and flashing strobe lights. So when the aliens abduct you and you feel it before it happens, you wish for death. Can no one see the alien ship as you float through your roof up to it? No one believes you when you say you’re an abductee – aliens don’t exist, they say – they’re just in our minds.

when in the world’s leading democracy
a new president starts his office with

     making life more expensive for average home owners
     signing orders threatening the health of millions
     restricting the publications of researchers
     denying global warming
     encouraging coal and oil companies
     forbidding federal employees to talk to the media
     going on fantasy trips about “alternative facts"
          to justify his ridiculous lies
     blaming the media when asking questions and checking facts
     barring leading media companies from press conferences
     waffling about his Russian connections
     refusing to release his tax returns
     ordering to build walls to keep out all those aliens,
          like the old Chinese did, to little avail
     issuing poorly formulated presidential orders
          causing confusion and harm and even deaths
     banning even green card holders from entering the country
     filling his cabinet with all the alligators from the swamps
          he promised to clean during his campaign
          people who know how to avoid paying taxes and beating the     system
          but have no clue how to govern now that they ARE the system
          and think they can run the USA with its 350 million citizens
          as Trump&Cronies;, USA, Inc.,
          like their private family businesses, for profit
courting kings and monarchs & wannabe sultans in the near east
     'democratic dictators' in the far southeast
      and wannabe czars in russia
but hesitating to confirm ties to old allies
     in Europe, NATO, and the Far East
suggesting that having undeclared secret meetings
     is quite OK with his campaign team members
     his son and son-in-law

[ctd. fron line 2...] it is high time to seriously ask
what concept
    if any
of democracy he has in mind

Aliens Foreign and Domestic

A little Ford bearing on its bumper
A made-in-China South Vietnamese flag
Tailgated by a menacing larger Ford
Which passes, bearing on its bumper
A made-in-China Confederate flag
And then another Ford with an image of
Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe
On U.S. 96 near the Wal-Mart -
There must be something in all that
    But what?

In a universe of acquaintances,
My eyes happen to meet yours,
A smile forms from your frown,
As for a moment we recognize.
I watch you raise your hand
Like an alien lifting an extension,
Making a motion for friendship.
I follow your moments,
Afraid of breaking the norms
Set in place by confusing creatures,
Colliding two palms together:
Rough and brief.
Yet between the empty crevices
On our palms, wind blows through
Easily without obstacle.
So close, yet so distant,
And with that action, apparently
We are friends...
But I don't know you,
You don't know me.
We just share our obscure gestures,
Turn around, walk away,
Fulfilling a temporary satisfaction
That we are not alone.
I imagine this ritual strange
In the eyes of aliens,
Watching from a distance
Not as far as the space
Between our palms.

These things I've seen
 
A lover be unfaithful, allowing another man to boisterously indulge her...
The love of a 25 year life imprisonment sentence fall to pieces like the shackles at the end of slavery...
The characters of the bible being whitewashed and leaving the blacks in the dark, a black book with red sides and edging, resembling the sword that drips of blood --- Blood of the tribes fighting for their brown and green land but by way of religion fell into the enemy's hands...
Crimes of passion that claim to be unending and relentless symbolism of love and affection however psychotic...

These things I've seen

Drakes protecting the hidden treasures in the garden where the first temple was built --- I guess Adam had cousins but had no aunts or uncles...
Shapeshifting humans during intense low-level vibrational frequency ****** ******* - all ritualistic...
{In my dreams} Shapeshifting humans as they turn into star dust and crystal as they make love at high-level vibrational frequency - all electric...
Flying saucers that blip orange and red lights hovering about in circles...
Driving into the Neverland in the dark where the compass tilts clockwise then anti-clockwise...

These things I've seen

Tall Long haired pale ones looking down from a cliff in front of the greenest of trees through a mirror that connects the Universe...
A falling star descending as if it were directed or aimed with a cosmic bow and arrow...
Light elementals showing themselves through a register of time called the calendar...
Innocence fall as the heavens had color or people called the blacks such as the advanced humanoid-apes that fly spaceships...
Lion King being a true story of a faraway lost home called Avyon, where Cat People or the Felin live amongst the Bird People or the Carians...

These things I've seen

Starving children swell up and their heads being left huge on  slim a body signifying the aliens called the greys...
Aids killing brothers and sisters like they were not meant to have form, purpose and meaning...
Chemtrails arting toxic infections that cloud the nervous system with diseases...
Beggars begging for a penny and hobos pushing hope and home on a trolley...
Visions subliminal being told on tell-a-vision only to have the masses document orchestrated thought forms on social platforms...

These things I've seen, as I speak I hear them sing. As I listen I feel them breathe, as I gasp I smell their feet... and I am just below their toe nail. These things are real and the more I try to put on hope-headphones I realise there is a giant Zeitgeist being plotted against you and me, can't you see?

Drastic words taken from a manic world,
Have you heard that what they print is labelled on you.
Its over now,
As the sun begins to rise,
Tomorrows world,
Always forgets the man that dies.

Reality later,
Reality later,
Fiction from the truth printed there.
Reality later,
Reality later,
Editorial journalists they don't care cause the paper sells...

Tabloid Mess!

Celebrity taker,
Paparazzi will follow you everywhere,
So you want to be in the paper?
Fame and fortune has its price that will tear.
Sold out now,
This world exclusive news,
Read all about it now,
Aliens land on chrismas eve!

Reality later,
Reality later,
Fiction from the truth printed there,
Reality later,
Reality later,
Editorial journalists they dont care cause the paper sells...

Tabloid Mess!

They deserve it now,
All of those printed lies,
War of words,
From the media moguls!

Reality later,
Reality later,
Fiction from the truth printed there.
Reality later,
Reality later,
Editorial journalists they dont care cause the paper sells...

Tabloid Mess!

Reality later,
Reality later,
Fiction from the truth printed there.
Reality later,
Reality later,
Its all a bit of a joke laugh the press so swindled in you.

Tabloid Mess!

O'Reily@08072015

By the power of luck, of god, of karmic matters.

I call upon nature and aliens and omnipotent beings.

Four leaf clovers, and rabbits feet, and love.

Anything really.

Anything or anyone that will listen.

Guide me.

Please let me get through it all.

Amen.

I'm uncomfortable  

And always tense
In observational
Desire
From my corner coffee shop
Spot.
Unnoticed,
I see simple embrace
One for which
my body aches.
My body breaks
I realize
I'm alone and
In doing so actualize my own fate.

People are aliens
Foreign and speaking a language which seems eerily  
familiar but forgotten
years ago.
It seems I am not getting
better at conversing
just daily Rehearsing
The same rhetoric
Stoic lows
recycled and recited
to a new day, a new ethereal face

Inadequate Inadequacies
Inadequately Inscribed,
,described and, imbibed.

Please, oh Lord,
Let me imbibe
before subscribing
to speak to you, me, every and anyone.


Send Help!
Send Anyone!

A person
to make my lips feel
a little
less caustic.
Casual conversation
by the wayside
I want what I had
Not what I can or could have.
I don’t want love.
I’d rather have a dog to put to sleep
than no dog at all.

a potbelly
scarecrow
itching
its backside

on a tree
in a wood

where aliens
grieve.