Step by step
one fills
pages of
the empty
fellings

chance by chance
one lives
alive
the empty
breaths

turn by turn
one comforts
the sadness
of empty
emotions

thy!
Alaas!
Emptiness
as empty
apart..

Lotus blossom frozen on her head
Stone tears falling from many ancient beds
Torn aparts one heart passing on the wheel
How many lifetimes have we bwnn to the other
Mother, Father, sister, brother
Choice no such thing
Given up when the fabric of their flame was sown
Magic was locked inside half her heart
The other half he owned
She is Bran the goddess half
Living blind behind the mask of his
Dark moon eyes
Heard all his lies
And tasted the ******* with bliss of his first wal
As he began to hide himself from others before the fall
Descent
Oh yes she rejoiced a jealous goddess
He belonged bonded by fire only to her
What right did those others have
To taste that first kiss
And to touch with fingers belonging only to her
Humans on earth
Wrapping them so entirely within his wings
Dark secrecy, lust, many other things
So in a rage of passion
She tore the very things that allowed flight
From her back
Oh yes blood flowed red
Descent
Giving up all past memory of true bliss
Every memory of his face, his kiss, his heart
Her dark twin flame forgotten
Nor a backward glance was given
Fallen to earth indulging the passion
Meet and separate time and time again
The wheel rolls on
Blind to the other
The wheel rolls on
So as ages pass some ligering of him
Stored somewhere in her head
Just a vague memory
Would call to her for one brief moment
Bliss remembered
Stolen between the twilight of sleep
And the ending of dreamtime
Great bells ringing, tolling bells singing
Come to me
Hearts beating sirens calling
Come to me
In tunnels of time, in caverns of rhyme
Behind dark moon eyes
Traces of him come calling
Remember
Come to me my torn apart
Dragons tail crosses the sky
Dreaming is ended fall no more
Our flame burns on
Come find me if you will
come find me
You will

It was the usual tick-tock,
but it spun at a different time,
a time of merrymaking,
a time, of mirth & laughter,
of castles & soldiers,
of kings & folks,
of a princess very beautiful,
of a prince miles distant.

The clock was unmade,
but the sound was there,
of two hearts,
which beat as fast.

A story sprang forth
between the quiet intervals,
between the two far-aparts.

They wove a saga timeless,
and hence,
we are sitting across,
under this bonfire,
eager to know,
what love is like,
what makes its sound,
the tick-tock?

I won’t forget the way you shared your bed with her while I carried your child in my womb
I won’t forget the way you bulldozed my grace and love just because I would rebloom
I won’t forget the way you left me standing in the streets of Montreal—the reckless, frigid free-for-all
I won’t forget our heart-to-hearts, fall-aparts, fresh-starts
I won’t forget our once shared-dreams, fire-water color schemes; tip-toeing, balance-beams
I won’t forget your lack of self-acceptance; your fear, resistance, dependence
I won’t forget the way you disguise your loneliness; insecurity, disappointment—
your selfishness; inconsistency, vacant empathy
I won’t forget your impatience; porcelain ego, complacence
I won’t forget the way you’d kiss my feet; plead for forgiveness; make promises, repeat
I won’t forget an honest memory of you—instability, volatility
But I will only ever wish you depth, perspective, and humility

TreeTops alkaline radio
Timestamp ● AM transport
Bukowski, Bellows
Rather than you !

An estimation
of salvation (salvage)
From the ****** of crows
that bark in my general direction

I'm gliding through the mess of you...
Part of the promise my love
when you have gave me your hands a new
I love you too much to let the other one go

Rebooting a life
with the kindnesses
you so richly
deserve

amongst the alkaline radio

Valentine's Day is how the mifflewarts expunge your good happy.
It dwells in the innermost fleem.
It has no fortunate rodentia, but scampers oblong
into  a sideways dream.
Lip-bitten. Our kites collapse in come-aparts to go *****.
prone upon the earth of our dim Ding*
when the Clock was gargling
Always.

Down cobbles rose garland sways
still sweeet fox pollon
seep down alley ways
exhaust for-seen resource in shadow

wisk e-hers tinber lit darkness - ray-linear  
Ultra violet ultra steep
o wains and candles
tis summer gleam & beneath tomorro unseen
O castle ablaze let side leave wake till dawn day breaks drawn arrow

Sea Aparts nor seperated dose stars leaves flower beswayed fairy
rings set... pon cusion
Jestered not geer'd ad-sole speech
Healerrs only hear to kKill
And angels hide in coast drift demons
and darkness impervise light

Sweet to kindle
Awe lonely hears
swoop and fain in wistle of nestle

math to flame
crossed goldenfields than adorn
& Spaninsh crux+, shall meet morn

settle anew conflict
will decide on hieght brother
conduct fist to system a sword
yours Shall swing on daymakers eventual deprive
bell to chime and hymm see rise & yawns

Surprised by my feet, I am.
Err… why?
Were they not always there? Well yes
and so I was aware, I suppose
of their existence, as it were,
here nor there, to and fro
Perhaps their connectedness, to me
was startling in my lapse, you see
of norm mentality, or
they are not as they appear, not mine!
Not of my own design, but
I wear them all the same,
why yes! of course!
The piercing truth aparts the clouds, so now
I bathe in its luminescent source, aloud
I divulge as if quite to myself, for sure
the secret I have come to learn:
Beware those who bear you faithfully
for time will come, you wake and see
though you have been carried far
Surprised by feet, you are.

microcosm at the end of the garden,
micro-dosing whiskey and a joints:
tobacco and green anger
the one to subdue in the pockets
of anxiety attacks -
that can be channeled into a focus -
all those people on chemo anxiety blockers
at least with the green anger
and the fire water managed to intellectualise
in focus - equivalent to:
painting - if done by solo venture of scribble
scrabble 'n' 'sum                  ... threat of violins
falling and slicing in the rain (demonic)
slicing water and sound and the sound of
water and the sound of fire
and the sound of air and the sound of the hearth...
nights
days
nights
days i spent listening to the four orchestras
of the elements: water had waves
of the sea and the skies of the seas falling
as rain... the grand kidney of god that is this earth
god is filtering equivalent to men censoring
each other other...
      Edie will love another, Edyta will love another
but the whole legality business visas
H-1B plenty of unskilled security men out there
so 1 - 0 to the locals...
          marriage visa? now thanks to Martin's judgement
i will sooner inherit my grandmother's apartment
with a glorious view of a cemetery....
from the balcony... and then this house in essex
this little island of abode brooding...
in exchange for a life on Kauai?
her doubts her words her disqualification of self
that she's 18 years apart in bodies...
we are 18 bodies apart... aparts... a partitioning of sigma
the splitting of the soul not by ******
but under the guise of the many loving expressions...
i have lived a life since September 2023
when i traveled to the island of Kauai to meet
a girl for the first time since i talked to her mother...
i was also looking for a transcendental father...
a father of transcendentalism: no, so no, not my mythological
father - yes: because i am currently living
with my biological father and mother and by extension
the Elephant Phantom Martin and my grandmother...
so elaborate:
from September 2023 on a writing hiatus...
brought them back Edie and Reyla to London and Reyla
****** me off for not wanting to go and see
the Phantom of the Opera...
now in the background a Hanz Zimmer crescendo from
the Dune soundtrack...
                mini puncture and now by marriage...
to say: by the duty of the wedded this monstrous wound
of tongues licking eyes and gently using like worms into
their last state of being veins of the sclera...
                  a text from my nigerian next door neighbor...
lived for 3 years like that like
no woman no cry
                             like that 3 years known to me casual
formal...
only a few days earlier
been smoking and drinking on the roof overlooking
the garden
talking poetry and not talking poetry Ayo Ayo Ayo texting
me now... i waffled back to him that he cought
me in the middle of this composition this new groove established
in infected and mushroom cancer in the brain
we are born with a brain fungus
a dormant brain fungus
what is a parasite a cancer on a tree if not the evergreen mistletoe
dormant fungus... brain... typing listening to music
text from next door neighbor thinking that Edie
will love again can love again loved in the past
we are 18 bodies apart
                                  and so so just a one sided communication
a barrier... the butterfly to caterpillar transition
of... none other expected than a St and a Martin
the ghoul the phantom the missing...
             the ego in the ego the self without self
the id so...
                                  primitive man of pre-haunt of death
most apparent to self and the shadow upon the curtain...
a talk with self most relevant now:
re-imagining what a good chromebook keyboard would
feel like so protruding like an old nokia
and the burners
and what my poetry would be like without Edie and to find
resolve i will have to reply: do you want me to stop writing
forever? because that's what you would have
to destroy... my mother could think that you killed her brother
because you came and i didn't go to visit martin
when grandmother was slowly killing him
you heard me you saw me over the phone
you heard when you heard me hear the message...
could you have said? can you come with me to Poland
blah blah...
i don't know... but blood is blood and blood is blood
and what's bothering me is family
but in the end my mother blames my grandmother
but i also thought about being blamed
and who isn't to blame but Martin himself and i wonder
how happy he is now that he has gone toward
the ******* land of la li lo le ole and lulu or lullaby
because i'm thinking about alcoholism as a zombie taboo
crawling and ******* and frolicking in open wounded
vowels like o cut up to u
or i used for a hyphen and a dot to punctuate better
to say a being stitched up to e to make
the Adam and Eve monstrosity of Eden
found in the Latin script... dated: some literary ******
just remembered that he used to write and so does...
there were nights filled with fire
there were nights filled with thoughts of women
there were nights filled with fuckless women nights
there were nights within nights
there was chaos in order and order in chaos
there was a dualism and a schizophrenia
there was certainly god and madness
and i was so almost killed by a friend of mine from
high school a Samir... in Canterbury...
try this other than **** spice
this Chilean spice...
SALVIA will make you see elephants
and you riding elephants quickened hallucinations
so smoked **** then toked the miracle...
turns out my face slid to one side and i slouched
into a dying fetal position...
them giggling... until seriousness took over and they
realized that i was not going to die...
my impressions of a death party...
death parties exist... i suppose in dark web lingo
a death party involves
at least 3 people...
           2 people plan a ****** of someone by poisoning
subtle: not like the case of brianna ****...
scarlett jenkinson and eddie ratcliffe organised a death
party... samir and mr jivandoo organised a death
party by poisoning...
              to their horror and my own i am alive aged 38
should have been dead aged 21
should have...
there were years in my calendar when writing
that i would drink a liter of whiskey a night...
i would drink a liter of whiskey a night
i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night i would drink a liter of whiskey a night

what killed martin a bad death of still being alive?
beer... manslaughter by grandmother?
is it in her to be able to **** both husband and son
because they were alcoholics?
genuine questions... interlude for a cigarette and
an auf wiedersehen (oꟻF vderzeen)

ꟻ: ah... remember to find Adam and Eve
in the letters... diphthong... doip doip doup dupe dulla loop
oop                              poo             sssssss
                                                        s­ss
                                                   ssss
                                                        ssss­s
                                                     ss

    s
   s  s                        5S5S5S5S5S5S
       did numbers really originate from the Raj and
thanks be to the Arabs for our modern numbers?!
b6b6b6
                  1I1I1I
                       ­                                3E3E3E
9P9P9P
                                       O0O0O0
             7 Γ7 Γ7 Γ
                                     B8B8B8
          2Z2Z2Z
                                         ­        4G4G4GQ

Q! Q! Q1 Q1 not G... i.e. 4Q

                    (    )               (     )

                                 A

                       ___


(&)                    (&)

               L

      __

  the Doppelganger Series of Portraits
noses will be letters
the mouth will always be the flat-line of expression
status poker quo

            ($)                    ($)

                    ­      I

                  __

         (£                                 hmm...

no... I looks good...

              (#)                   (#)

                           Y

                   __

                              (Beelzebub... hashtag eyes)....
song switched to type o negative's
christian woman... but i quickly have to switch
to the recent taylor swift song i heard today...
tortured poets department...
typewriter?
                    like a tattooed labrador...
lebrador labradoor
chelsea hoes?
                            labaradorable...
              ­           no ******* body ooh what a sweet
sing along...
  smoke and bears and chocolate bars
smoking and golden retriever?
                                           cyclone of dehydration(s)
this mouth this wake up 8am with summer...

indeed... the poem has exhausted itself
         with god-flow of needing to take a **** -
switching to the memory of Jemminah
and homemade wine and foster the people six next to me...
or this is this is...
                    this is a slowly pealed grape...
                                       this is a reflection on slowly peeling
a single grape...
the unusual request to return to a former writing habit
or habit of the mind to spend an hour
elsewhere... with one's own to one's own sense of self...
and all the Wembley folks in security were hush hush
and bothered about the Netflix documentary
thinking there would be a story against the security teams
if any...
       or rather to hear first rate accounts journalists would swarm
the site post Euro Finals 2021 and ask us about any details
well the film itself became more a documentary for
anti racism...
                     it was the most comprehensive and positive
lesson in  adhering to an anti racism focus...
         i was expecting that...
the security personnel were actually praised... and there was
a sense of empathy....
   i recognized one face in the documentary:
Lee, the son of the owner of Achilleus Security who's
name is not Ralph not Romeo but probably Ricci...
           Italian connections if i were not mistaken...
                       ooze.... hit the snooze before bed
go down smoke dip mouth in some whiskers and beddie beddie
bye bye.

trapped within the very impulse of our loved beneath the perplexing ambush
we close the door of brevity with a slight adjustment of the hand when will we understand
caught betwen the world I know then onto the one I wish to go we become puzzled
my mind is playing tricks on me day after day with humble knee to bow the head to pray

out in the street where people meet we wear a smile yet know all the great while
when push comes to shove we tend to sweep things underneath the rug
in a time well spent in thought our chromosones run a bit wild
when I was a child i used to dream of kings and queens & magical places

yesterday is gone and I sit here all alone with a song in my heart to light the inner spark
we will humbly embark upon the distant road we are to tread within the walking dead
following aparts at the seams living in a land so very mean
Halloween

with witches in the air without a care in darkened portals of my mind
a flash in the pan when to understand that true simplistic art
Warhol with his soup cans promising everyone 15 minutes of fame
Elder bush still trying to grab some bush best he keep his Tiger in the woods

living in a field of dreams faces that scream eating my favorite ice cream
blind leaders of the blind following a no it all for president isn't it relevant
chase back the dreams froom your hair without the willingness to share
lines being drawn in the sand when to understand send the troops home
no time for them to roam...

mind is playing tricks on me as we take things casually masquerading with reality
with sought after humble brevity living in a land of make believe
yet we have something up our sleeve
crimes of passion embarking on the New York mile

bloodshed in the street of the town of New Haven
gone our the days of the forgotten Ben Laden or have we forgotten him
North Korea fat boy in a suit with funny hair
a cause to reflect lest we have met together for a journey of fear

working to hard can give you a heart attack like that old school rap
with Slick Rick & Mellie Mel boogy down with your socks like the late Scot Lerock
Fetty Wap is still on top still got time to call up for a cop
many years from now I'll still be on top

minds playing tricks on my as if its in the gutter is it any wonder with Stevie
everybody needs me like freshly squeezed orange juice drinking one hundred proof *****
these are the days that try mens souls as in the summer soldier and the sunset patriot
we can learn from our past mistakes not to make them again

Guess its best to hold our breath & count to the number ten again

Highly, highly sensitive
The beauty and the fear

My loved ones are far
Loneliness is near

What will be my legacy
Before i disappear?

Broken hearts, Blown aparts
Hold your holies dear

           Steer clear.