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Mimi Jul 2011
Supple skin, insides of elbows
we scratched til they bled
split lips and scraped knees
I would follow you anywhere
Burrowed in your old clothes
you didn’t wear dresses
so neither did I.
Curled up on your too-green carpet
watching the fish in your tank
commit suicide one by one.
Can we stay the same?
Before Momma’s on the phone
shouting about faulty vaccines.
Before the world descends upon us.
In the night
you would slowly voice the thoughts:
what is the value of a human life
if it is miserable. If people laugh and mock,
if that life is silently and hopelessly
alone, and suddenly aware of it’s own strangeness.
It takes hours, to string this together
creeping towards 3am in the pitch dark.
we are sitting on the floor,
I promise with all of my eight year old honor
all of my fighting might,
I will not abandon you to this cruel world trapping
you. All this unknown grief
for the emotions you cannot understand.
My big brother called last night at 11:41 pm on a school night
We made plans to see a movie next year. So this is his.

(I think this needs an edit and an new title, thoughts?)
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
sample size excavation:

urbanity forsake the village-metality
of the undisclosed biological
credo...
                     urbanity became
a pawn & pauper in a "clues",
which replaced facts...
                         i am more mushroom
than reptile or genital mutilation
grammar asking...

              finally! cricket has come home!
well... in between watching
roland garros,
and the ICC?
             even i can agree...
of all the h'american sports?
  baseball... sure...
ice hockey... sure...
     basketball... sure...
   h'american football?
esp. when watching rugby?
  i don't get it...
         scuffling in the middle...
pass back... one throw forward...
a decent runner...
         ball hits the deck...
"regroup"...
      reinforced rugby-esque scrum
drama...
    play-stop-play-stop...
ad. revenue interlude...
   start-stop-start-stop...
             doesn't it get boring, ever?!

i had to turn to cricket!
oh i'm enjoying the cricket...
it's like chess + braille + bridge
dynamic of tactic... sure...
it's not baseball...
       it's cricket!

   international test matches...
50 overs...
         50 x 6 = 300 throws of the ball...
1 over = 6 throws...
no other sport was so much
beautiful jargon,
so much stat.,

             and so many idiosyncratic
terms...
what do they call english
cricketers? tourists...
west indies (the carribean team?)
the windies...
          
          349-8 (349 runs...
         8 wickets)...
              
                   imagine a sport...
where it lasts so long that it errodes
your attention span like
a Tolstoy novel...
      come morning,
it finishes in the early hours of
the evening...

                cricket... quintessential
Dickensian replacement narrative...
and i've never seen more
laid back referees (umpires)...
what's a 4 to a 6
in terms of body language?

you have tactic akin to bowlers
throwing spin-accents...
so there's a minimum of a 1-2 1-2
runs... rather than 4 or 6 worth
of smackers...

            cricket isn't the worst
of games... by far h'american football...
that's the worst game, ever...
then, golf...
             **** me... table tennis
beats those two games,
even without all the glamour...
but itching chinese pretending
to be fast paced insect-esque
reaction time automatons...

                 i mean two female sport
events make complete sense...
tennis and gymnastics...

i don't even know why i enjoy cricket...
after all,
i am not exactly english "born and bred"...
bred from the age of 8...
hybrid mongrel...
i would still like to appreciate
the sports celebrated by the land
of my birth...
        żużel (speedway) and
(szczyptarze... almost a googlewhack...
2 results)...
                 hand-ball... and volley-ball...
greek wrestling...
      archery...
             sport is so under-represented
these days...
        only the major sports...
and at times, the monopoly associated
with their funding, their subsequent
traction of spectator numbers...
  it's so boring!
             it becomes too tribal!
totteham hotspur f.c.: born and bred!
there are so many other sports...
that do not entertain tribal ergonomics!
most of the olympic sports, for starters!

  today i was watching pakistan take
on england in the ICC world cup...
             ****- beauties all round...
      and then... for some "weird" reason...
the shadow of Rotherham...
     the cube didn't fit into the square
hole a gorilla was supposed
to push the prism through...
            
       there are just so many underrated
sports! it's not even worth criticising
sports per se...
         it's the sports that appeal to
the masses, that elevate the sport beyond
the sport per se, and craft trivial and
tribal affiliations that bothers me!

           i still think h'american football
is the dumbest sport available...
considering it as, rugby: devolved.
there's as much sense of passing the ball
backwards, imitating a charging wave
against a coastline of defence...
as there will ever be any sense found...
in scuffling in the middle
like some pretend boxing match...
allowing only one pass backwards...
and one runner maneuvering past the pointless
scuffle in the middle...
pass back, one throw, one catch...
                       run Forest! run!

o.k. even i found cricket a bit *******...
asparagus... ****... asperger syndrome
with its overt analysis...
   but even cricket looks better
than that ******* irish pub brawl
take on boxing that h'american football
represents...

bloated egos in armour...
           sorry, even ping pong looks
more appealing...
the ******* sumo diet worthwhile
to compete with...
        it's the cricket world cup...
and the time it takes to play out
100 overs?
    maybe chance upon a 6 run...
   8 wickets...
                      elsewhere
handball is pop, as is volleyball...
ski-jumping...
          
        sport per se isn't the problem...
it becomes a problem when
sport becomes tribal,
and the initial per se pleasure
of the spectacle of a sport is drained...
when people have to take sides...
when the sport per se cannot
be appreciated...
            hence the "concept" of the sport,
the logic of behind the sport is lost,
lost in the fact that it is lost to
it being monetized...

              when sport, resembles....
the kind of live performance,
akin to Heilung - Alfadhirhaiti...
while i am left, bound to the greater desires,
of moving to Greenland...
or the Faroe Islands...
        because even the English summers...
are starting to resemble
Indian summers more and more...
**** being your atypical English
sun-worshipper who "miraculously"
moved outside of London...

                         not, far, enough!
give me Greenland, give me the Faroe Islands,
give me Alaska!
    i can't stand this surge in
the creeping Summer heat about
to grind England to a halt!
                   however long it will take,
i wish to plan my escape to these lands...
i don't want a year's worth more,
in this little saudi land of the north,
with pubescent saudi ******* racers
bragging their diesel lamborghini *******
down Knightsbridge!
I got diagnosed
when I was
13,
mild Asperger's syndrome
what a diagnosis,
eh?
It made sense
to everyone but,
me,

I never thought
of myself as
different,
I only have
a hard time
knowing
what other people
are thinking and
feeling.

I'm on the
spectrum and I
can't
change that but
if this makes
me
unique then I'm
glad to be
autistic.
Weezer-The World Has Turned And Left Me Here
Sofia Emma Jun 2013
Roses are multi-coloured, violets are violet, this poem is literal, I have Asperger's.

:)
They say people with Asperger's Syndrome are often quite literal. I just felt like proving them right. :)
Jordan Frances Jan 2014
It started with a game.
She was innocent, but she wanted to be older.
Grow up too fast.
Be a "big kid".
After all, they have all the fun, don't they?
All her cousins were older, and she was always the one tagging along.

She hung out with an older cousin.
About seven years older than her.
Alone, in a room
A bedroom.
Just them two, and so he says
"Let's play a game."

This sounded intriguing to her seven year-old ears.
So she responds:
"Game?"

"Yes, truth or dare."
Is his reply.
They play.
Several questions in, he says:
"Crawl on top of me and kiss me."
He motions to his crotch.

The girl is horrified.
"No!  That's icky!"
She says.
He lies, tells her it is what all the big kids do.
Her seven year-old brain is confused.
"Really?"

"Yes, don't you want to be a big kid?  Oh come on."
She considers.  Considers.  Considers.
He taps into her emotions one more time.
"Fine, I'll get someone else to play then."

This child does not want to be seen as a coward.  A loser.  A little kid.
The rest is a blur.

The factors:
A bed
Asperger's Syndrome
A teen on his back
A terrified child climbing on top of him

The actions:
Hands, his on her torso
Kissing, her on his crotch
Touching, him.  Her.  Both players find fault.

The results:
Molestation.
Guilt.
Fear.
Promiscuity.
Shame.
Silence.

­Suddenly this game isn't fun anymore.
He doesn't do it again, never even threatens her.
They see each other plenty and act perfectly fine.
It accumulates in her for seven years, until she tells a guidance counselor.
Freshman year, fourteen, tender age.
She lets go of her secret, and by the end of sophomore year has become very confident.
Junior year she is flying, and that is where the story leaves off

My story, my (somewhat) happy ending.
I still struggle every day.
When society teaches girls not to be abused instead of boys not to abuse,
I cringe.
How was I supposed to know what was right and what was not at age seven?
I was not at fault.

What I would like to know is
When men are going to step up and take accountability
When men are going to say enough is enough
When men are going to stand up with their *****, molested and assaulted
Sisters, girlfriends, mothers, and friends

Guys, most likely a female you are in close accordance with has been abused
Whether you know it or not
According to some insane one in three statistic
I am asking you, begging you, pleading with you
Stand up and speak out

Educate each other
Create a new definition of "manliness"
Not just who can get laid the most
But who is the most respectful

Considering most ****** assaulters are men
Please stand up for me.
From every sexually abused woman, child and man on this planet
Wrote this a while ago. I'm not exactly still flying, I've been dug into a hole over the course of this year. Hopefully, I can get out of it.
oddmanout Jul 2018
My friend's not normal
He doesn't pick up on social cues
He's not a people person
He can't articulate his views

But today I had a rough day
Nothing quite went right
I just longed for the day to end
And bring me to the night

With tears welling all day long
Trying to keep them at bay
I wanted to be anywhere but here
But I had to stay

My friend asked me how I was
I answered with a sad heart
Simple and eternally optimistic
He told me "that's a start"

How could he know
That was what I needed to hear
To get me out of my slump
And get me into gear

I couldn't hold it longer
Tears fell from where I stood
My friend is not normal
And I think not normal is good
Nik Apr 2017
April 24th around 5:50 pm a group of boys took it upon themselves to laugh.
I proceeded to look around to see if someone had fallen, to see if someone was wearing, or not wearing, something they shouldn’t,
I waited.
I began to walk faster.
“But It’s Better if you Do” by Panic at the Disco was blaring in my ears so whatever they were saying was blocked out by the blare of Brendon Urie’s voice…
I still don’t get what was so funny—but I have an idea.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been subject to jokes about how I look.
I am the **** of everyone’s fat joke,
My comedy is a product of every snicker, every cackle, every time I’ve been called Big Momma or Rasputia.
My pearly white smile is painted by the white lies I tell myself and everyone else to get through the day.
I wonder if people ever stop to think if there is a person, suffocating, lonely in the center of this big, fat meat suit.
I wonder if people ever think before they speak or laughing at me when I eat.
I wonder if people know that I was raised by the strongest single mother in the world, so I have skin tougher than steel so their words can’t hurt me,
A mother who raised 3 children on her own.
A mother of an 8 year old
Whose father died in Honduras 2 years ago after being deported back 2 years before that—she told us it was a car accident,
but my mother taught me was to be nosey and to always search for the truth, especially when it’s being hidden from you.
My little brother’s father, the love of my mother’s life, was gunned down murdered in cold blood.
She is a mother of a 23 year old
Who has had Asperger’s his entire life, has dealt with being shipped from school to school because it’s so hard to find a special education program for him.
My mother taught me patience is the biggest virtue, and that my anger with his repetitive questions and running around is nothing compared to the anger he feels with himself every day for being a “burden” on those around him.
A mother who
Beats herself up over the fact my brother my father’s side is addicted to drugs,
My brother’s mother was a drug addict and so was my father at the time,
And even though my father was able to clean himself up, he had so many warrants out for his arrest it forced him to play hide and seek with the police and his own children
So for months at a time my mom would take care of my brother, thought about adopting him, but of course that didn’t happen—
His mom got clean.
My dad was finally caught, things were looking up
Until his mother got ***** again, rolling with dogs, her arms look like she was eaten up by fleas
My father was never a father,
Disappearing for weeks without so much as even a breath and reappearing as if he never left
No wonder my brother can never stay clean.
My mother taught me to love my brother unconditionally, that no matter what I have to laugh with him when he needs a laugh
Because my brother doesn’t know what stability is, he doesn’t know what standing on his own two feet feels like because he is always high.
She taught me to always laugh with him because I don’t know if he’ll come down the next time he gets high.
A mother of
An 18 year old girl who suffers from clinical depression and anxiety, but has to keep it swept under the rug because the public school system failed in teaching her about mental illness.
However, my mother taught me that as much as I depend on her she depends on me, that I am her backbone and she believes that even if I sink I will learn how to swim before the tide engulfs me and I’m taken too far from the shore.
I’m ripping off this big, fat meat suit because I’m tired of suffocating,
I’m learning how to swim.
I can feel the sun now.
I will learn to rise up soon
IamThatGirl May 2018
My life would be so much better, if you just dropped dead,
because staring into your eyes makes me see red,
for all that you have done,
and all the hurt that you have caused,
you would think the beating would be the worst,
but its always the words that hit the hardest,
and its not like I had a helping father,

living in a middle class house,
driving in a middle class car,
my mother sat the bar,
and she raised it up too far,

so everything was to look perfect,
I was supposed to smile,
I was supposed to make it worth it,
I was supposed to be perfect,

so what happens next,
Its not like I passed all her test,
I passed none,
i was to much and she was too strong,

I still feel her beatings on my face,
but that´s not what ended me up in this place,
because her words hit the hardest,
she said she regretted the adoption,
and with every second the words always hit harder,

because I tried my very best to be perfect,
but with insomnia, ADHD, Asperger and more,
it was like glass shattered beneath my feet with each step,
and all I ever wanted was to be like the rest.
(Start)
Divinity void at birth, grace gifted through a parents love, bestowed without warning, maintained without fuel. Security measures drawn, placed on potential porcelain tombs, and entrances unfit for entry. Soft spot guarded with a proficient level of tenacity, insuring life, and the maintenance of its quality.
(Stability)
Speech found, dolled out first in small dosages, replicating familiar terms. Footing discovered, despite quaking legs, still unsure of their design. In combination, a wonder tumbles forth, and empowers its creators with a sense of responsibility, and the need to secure a path in the world for their embodied prosperity.
(Dissolution)
Understanding drawn on a newly clarified society. Building and grasping onto fictions established to promote grounding and self-sufficiency. Day in, day out, the world expands, never contracts, overcomplicating itself among the generalities of everyday life, and everyday struggles. On the other side comes a curiosity in the form of confusion, demanding a translucent pictograph of intention and purpose.
(Reimagining)
Class starts with every other date, then expands until it consumes all but weekends, providing young, attentive eyes, with simplified understanding, all while slowly working to whittle away at the delightful fancy once taken up for the sake of fun. Aligned thought found in fellow participants working their way to the front of the feeding line, struggling to maintain the self as different views collide. A decade later, time to move on, and be separated from acquainted normality to draw from a new pen, and learn from a new set of rules.
(Disintegration)
Social circles established instantaneously, as a coping strategy for life in the wild. Evolutions of ideals and traits occur overnight, percolating to the surface before necessarily ready, as expansive thought draws away from fact, and onto experience, merging itself with a blue print stripped from an old socialites attic. Transgressions worth more than grades, as misconceived youths wander about for momentous occasions, misspelling and speaking in their retelling.
**(Re-entry)
Tempered blues played over megaphones in the high school gymnasium, as latent minded aristocrats, mocking and forging the appearance of Asperger’s, time out the cadence to meet without accord. Catatonic assembly line of carbon based replicas march in a circle, out of tune, winking at policeman, politicians…profits all the like. All this, while Aesop’s fables are shared to the collective of misty-eyed teens, in a speech of many words, but little point…Children, caged, redeemed, and finally reincarnated to match the product line being loaded into trucks, awaiting shelves; the new, meek breed of paper holders who once believed that education carried worth.
Sam Temple Mar 2015
frozen ***’s *****
their frozen assets
assimilating accountants
asphyxiated by Asperger’s
arranging orangutans
assuaging appetites
all the while
alone
Zeena Miedema Mar 2021
I can’t sleep because I’m uncomfortable and wake up from everything. I’m uncomfortable because I can’t sleep and get overwhelmed by many things. My body feels on fire but also very tired. Like there’s a dark thick substance running through it hurting from left to right.
01-03-21
Viseract Jun 2016
My Father said,
“Sometimes, Conor, you talk too much
And talk too little.”

I’ll let you figure that out on your own
So here I go:

I started off as shy
Didn’t like to meet people’s eyes
I was floating in the skies
So when I dropped I was surprised

I began to talk more,
Sometimes I just don’t shut up
There’s so much I have to say
But of time there’s not enough

My Primary years were years of torture
Those twisted words a killer
“Stupid. *****. ******. Loser”
I shut my eyes and mouth, head down, just kept cruising
Hoping. Praying
That someone would maybe save me

But I was unlucky
No-one came to rescue me
So pretty soon I hated the world that surrounded me
A father gone, overseas, fighting a war.
Because when it comes to family, some things are worth dying for.

Well pretty soon after, I wanted to die
When I found out that I wasn’t quite alright
My difference wasn’t me just being a shy guy
That untroubled dragon, unburdened, flying in the sky

Because I was diagnosed with Asperger’s at the age of eight
Chance hated me, it seemed, and so too did fate
Adding fuel to the fire, an internal pyre
That consumed me, hungrily, leaving me broken and tired

So my innocence was ignorance
You can tell by the evidence
I wanted an exit
Another way I could end this

Years down the track, and who am I now?
Am I that joker you thought I was, head up and proud?
The friend to the friendless, my speech is just endless
But at the end of the day I’m only pretending

Because I’m not okay, I’m a broken part
To a greater whole of some use, just needing a kick-start
My friends and family, you see, they disagree with me
Saying worn is not broken, and either way it isn’t easy

It hasn’t been easy, torn by the truth
And mocked for my teeth, hit at times, left bruised
Sticks and stones may break my bones and all that other ****
By words hit hard too and at times it’s hard to deal with it

Now I don’t seek attention, just tried to let them know
That I was struggling and there were some things I couldn’t let go
From the first time I was called “Bucky” to the handle of a blade
I wanted to tear apart all the **** they had made

So I started hacking away at myself
Trying to find a better someone else
The answer lies not in blood spilled, or the steel used to slash through
But in your mind hides a better you, a person with a better view

It just takes time to uncover
The century’s best discover
An artefact, buried, hidden, within your soul
Just clear your problems
Try and solve them
And you’ll be whole

“Sometimes, Conor,
You talk too much
And talk too little”

Do you understand?
I need help deciding whether to use this one or "Remember" as my poem for a school assignment. Please let me know in the comments below! Arigato!
Freds not dead Mar 2011
Pressed shirts
And a pretty mouth
Laughing like lace and polite
Mirrors in every inch of every cocktail party
If you feel what im feeling
I can relate to you and know you  (your lizard soul)
Finger nails being bitten while      (calming your)
No one is watching            (core              )
Making a note to send flowers       (your genitals)
to the sick    
Pushing away the dawn-blue thoughts
Of mass agony
A stop sign is a stop sign                                  
Clutching the noisy pills in a brand new purse
Wiping your hand before you meet the love of your life
And then some
                        (When you)
I’m trying to turn off                     (escape the)
all my mirrors                                (funhouse)
I’m stuck in my room                    (mirror)
On purpose                                     (hall )
With my Toys’ R’ Us                     (How)
Chemistry set trying to come up    (long)
With a way to infect the                 (does)
Choreographed planet with             (it take you)
Asperger’s                                        (to accept the new )
                           (distortions?)
tempt fate Sep 2015
There is so much beauty in people with Asperger Syndrome
They have a language unique to themselves
They see patterns and colours in ways we never will
Most importantly, their ability to relate to others is well, different

They see the world through a special lens
When they find love, they don't jump onto it like others do
Because they don't know it yet
And that's what makes their relationship with their person so so valuable

The two halves grow, learning and learning
His partner learns about his condition, accepts him by showing love
The boy with the condition learns about love
They value each other for every knowledge they slowly acquire

Their relationship is unique because two worlds have collided
They live on a dimension different from anything we can ever imagine
So don't ever let the boy not understand love
Because he can be way better at it than you

People with autism are brilliant beings,
They can achieve the so-called impossible
They don't know what impossible means
Please don't leave them in their own world, connect
A Brilliant Young Mind; Girl Meets World

It is when they overcome their inability to relate to others, when you find them showing care and concern to the people they love that you realise on a deeper level how much more passionate they can be when it comes to emotions and love. You realise how much you should treasure them. You realise how wonderfully changed a person can be with the power of love.
Leslie Philibert Apr 2018
the speedphone in your head
sparky and light trailed,
as a dancer with closed steps
you open doors in the night;

sometimes a ghost, a lost thought,
your pages are torn and mixed, you're
burnt as a nut, a failed paperchase
of loose  clues, brillant and wild
running with the comets to dawn
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Riley—I wonder why you found me attractive. I know why I found you…

You were so inappropriate that I couldn’t not like you. You were the thing I needed, the fuse, providing me with a connection with which I could use to cause such destruction. You were wrong, and dark, untouchable, unmentionable and unlovable, but I loved you anyway.



He was sad, or so it seemed. I saw him for the first time I graduated college. He confided in me his ****** use. I never thought he would do such a thing.



He told me I lost weight. Afterwards, I went home and ran, skipped dinner and consciously worked out my abdominal muscles. It felt good to hear him say; it felt good to know he found me ****.



He paid. Usually I did, or we split, but since I picked him up he brought change to buy me coffee—he even had enough for a refill. We were wired, talking. He was so caffeinated and talking. He told me he was going to see a psychologist to see if he had Asperger’s . His struggle to pay attention and act appropriately in social settings made him think so—his girlfriend had spent her life around autistic people and she thought he might. I would’ve never thought he had anything of the sort, rather I thought he was merely an eccentric and that made him interesting. I asked him if he thought drugs accelerated the process, he said yes, laughing. I wondered if I did—I didn’t dare ask because I couldn’t handle the blame or shame of having once been so manipulative.
Annie Quill Jan 2016
It's the tiny things that tip me over
Make it build
A shout
A tap
A bump
And then
BOOM
The switch is flipped and my hands are over my ears
My legs come up or I slide down to a squat
My eyes close
And it's all I can do to keep sane
Shut out the world and pull in to my mind
One of the many curses that come with my Asperger's has been triggered
Sensory Overload
And it is crippling
I try to think about going to my next class
Ha..Haha...hahaha
Nope
Let's just hope I get calm by the bell
But being a productive student is out of the question
Mentally skipping class in
3
2
1
Zeena Miedema Aug 2022
I don’t want to leave the world better like Sia.
I want to leave it forever.
I don’t want my life to matter.
I learned so much but in this world it has no purpose.

It keeps on hurting me without enough breaks.
It has no right to want anything from me or anybody no more.

Great pain for a lifetime that feels like it’s never ending.
All I can do is trying to give that pain the least amount of power.
But it’s still a torturing nightmare.
And I can’t escape it.

Only people that are amazing and music makes everything better.
But I can’t live.
It brings peace to know that one day this will all just be a dream that I can wake up from. Like Eminem said.

And it’s all been decided for us like Freddie Mercury already knew.
Let’s wake up from the nightmares of this world, let’s demand better.
This world should no longer keep people in such horror. 😭😭😭😭😭😭
28-08-22
Ashwin Kumar Mar 2021
What do you know, really?
About the midnight oil I burn
About the sacrifices I make
About the long waits I endure
As you find numerous excuses
To delay my salary and incentives
About the pain I endure
In order to share resumes on time
Even as my stomach muscles burn

What do you know, really?
About what goes in my work
About the amount of time I spend
With my eyes glued to the screen
Searching every nook and corner
For the ideal candidate
Even as my eyes protest vociferously
About the calls I make
Hoping to convert every one of them
Into a successful lead
But instead ending up in rejections
Even as the pressure mounts on me
To find at least two good resumes
By the end of a long day
A tedious and totally exhausting day

What do you know, really?
About the various situations
I have to deal with in my life
About the efforts I put in
To ensure that work is not affected
At any cost, whatsoever
About my Asperger Syndrome
And the difficulties it puts me in
Whether personal or professional

The list goes on and on
You may be a Founder
And me just a team member
But as far as my ordeals are concerned
What do you know, really?
A rant to my boss about not understanding my side of things.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
i sometimes wear sunglasses
while listening to music st night...
helps to block out the constellations...
as i've found one strange similarity
between Islamic culture
and western pop culture -

sunglasses -
        and the niqab - inversion -
i.e.:
so... are you're telling me...
all these celebrities have Asperger's syndrome?
you know... the eyes that can't
really focus on a smile...
  rat-eyed, darting as if trapped
in a maze?
             so much for ****** expression...
could perhaps read a smile,
second to none to the none
of a fake...
    
            isn't the practice of wearing
sunglasses akin to the Islamic
face covering?
the eyes are...
  windows of the soul...
or... what a ****** expression
beneath a niqab looks like...

   if i'd want a mannequin
to smile at me...
   i'd ask a gay asking a Muslim
woman to smile from beneath her veil...
but then i'd ask a mannequin first,
and only the mannequin...

              so all these celebrities
donning sunglasses
attempting to catch
           UV copper coating
pretending to be on a beach...
in on something?
                
            but they are replicating
the niqab...
          oddly enough...
               it's plain and simple
poker...
            no ****** features -
but also no soul -
    i can't exactly read either
guise...
           i need both the eyes
as i might also need the ****** contortion...

    the origin story is just the same...
but i guess all those people
wearing sunglasses must
be autistic -
    hard at keeping eye-contact...
plenty of smiling going
on...
   but when it comes to eye-contact?
terrible "malware"...

      as that other western niqab
surrounding desirable women...
not even on the streets of Mayfair -
west London -
locked up in a Rapunzel tower...
  
         i've seen more dogs walking freely -
even though they might still
tend to be leashed...

               but the use of sunglasses
as is currently used?
     hiding behind a veil -
contorting and faking ******
exfoliation like that -
making the awry smile?
      with eyes in the shade,
autistic and darting everywhere
other than the receiving
face of the interviewee?

                then the sort of women
you see on the street,
   in plain daylight, and evening -
free to go as they please?
    not exactly model material -
not ugly - no woman is ugly -
at best, a woman can only be:
neglected...

                           i see...
two forms of a pre-Islamic niqab...
           one is definitely spatial -
a prison cell...
the other?
    less a pure womanly constraint...
more...
  the audacity project for
autistic children; sunglasses.
Quand tu ris je frissonne et je danse
Je pleure à chaudes larmes, je tournoie
A gorge déployée
Je me désopile.
Quand tu ris c'est Vénus qui me chevauche
Et me vénère !

C'est comme un rire aphrodisiaque
Un rire interdit
Un rire noir qui bouillonne
à petit feu et qui enfle sa pulpe d'ébène
pour accueillir le parfum du musc.
Je me sens alors privilégié
Appelle-moi ton Empereur de Chine
Je suis consommateur captif de ce rire.
Rare
Quand tu ris tu éclates
Tu meurs
Tu ****** sur toi
Tu te plies
Tu te dérides
Tu es hilare !

Quand tu ris
Tous tes jardins secrets
S'enivrent et se font jour
A travers tes lèvres et tes dents
On voit apparaître des elfes et des lutins
Qui frissonnent aux toiles d'araignées
Tendues au fond de ta gorge
Pour que ton rire parte ad libitum
Et finisse en soupir.

Quand tu ris tu respires
Mieux tu inspires
Et quand ton rire expire
C'est pour renaître bientôt
Comme une chute du Zambèze
Dont on ne connait pas la source
Quand tu ris c'est le signal,
Muse vénérée,
Alors je me marre
Je m'amarre à tes eaux pour m'asperger de toi
Et me contaminer de ton fou rire vénérien.
Ryan O'Leary Sep 2019
Asperger girl being paid
to take on masculine role
is a fee-male.
Planet earth (the Mother of all)
breathed a collective
and palpable sigh of relief,
and I too deeply exhaled,
a foregone conclusion staved off
today July 21st, 2024,
whereat the audacious,
contumacious, discracious,
hellacious, marlacious, mendacious,
predacious, pugnacious,

salacious, ungracious,
voracious elephant
furiously stomping around the room
seems less imminent
to trample out the vintage,
where the grapes of wrath stored
hence wine not express relief
thee inevitable defiant ego-freezer
chances of bagging the election
considerably diminished

in the mind of yours truly,
cuz let's be honest,
the current commander in chief
odds of winning before he withdrew
would never have received
sizeable percentage of electoral votes
a snowball's chance in hell,
though I rue advocating quitting,
(especially as applies to yours truly - me)
withdrawing from less than half hearted labor,

that trace amount of ambition
witnessed courtesy exerting feeble effort
particularly toward various and sundry
countless vocational pursuits
when I happened
to be a perpetual student
matriculating at many
colleges/universities,
but graduating from none
except the school of hard knocks.

Vaingloriousness absent in my vocabulary,
cuz during formative years of mein kampf
mental, physical and spiritual development
I exhibited passivity involving
academic, interpersonal and athletic pursuits
and wonder where in the webbed, wide world
the days of my life
the existence of a very reformed
wandering Jew slung this earthling  
around the black (hole)
threescore and six orbitz  
since January thirteenth
two thousand and twenty four.

Longevity and mortality hopefully witness
remaining lifetime of mine
equaling an additional thirty three
totally tubular birthdays
roaming thru stary sky since mcmlix
after the common era
each day being alive celebrated
(like the jumping frog of Calaveras County)
a schizophrenic doubting thomas
at puberty his psyche markedly twain,
never put figurative nose to the grindstone

thus he feels undeserving
of pomp and circumstance,
when milestones barely accomplished
with minimal expenditure
of blood, sweat and tears
bajillion years before the human league
prolifically predominated planet,
when primordial earth, wind, and fire  
shape shifting like a huge foghat,
whereby fluke of circumstances
triggered accretion of microbial organisms

eventually bridging cosmic infrastructure
vaguely analogous to symbiotic contra dance
differentiation of matter manifested
under a sheltering sky
begat seeds of life and white lily
ushering over milleniums
distinct plant and animal species
among the latter – beetle browed,
foo fighting, bountiful ink spots
soaking up osmotically
one after another lovin' spoonful

within small medium at large ink spots
organic molecules (monomers)
and complex organic molecules (polymers)
formed from inorganic materials
in the primitive atmosphere
fast forward eons later when clumped entities
deployed diploid doped baby boomer generation
among one feisty young married couple
succumbed to primal reproductive urge
begetting das scribe of these words
sometime around early/mid April
nineteen hundred and fifty eight.

From the get go
(as the product of a Geico caveman)  
I exhibited nervous disposition
and if born today
would probably be hashtagged
as Asperger, cuz early development
foretold exceptionally docile behavior
withdrawn into nonsocial realm
quite evident as I attended grade school
slinking away from the madding crowd.

— The End —