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Alexandria Black Jan 2014
I

I have a good imagination
Nay I say I have a great one
Hell, I'd be willing to say it is splendiforous
Not a word?
I don't really give a **** because
With great imagination comes brand new words

A brand new vocabulary is merely one pro
Just a single benefit that
A great imagination can bestow
There are more but the first has got to be the words
With these brand new syllables and letters yet to be invented
One can weave a new language
A secret code in which to communicate
With the six foot, broadsword wielding fire-breathing ape
That you can call your imaginary friend

But with a great imagination, he is not imaginary
He is indeed real
He sits beside you in the dark
As the nightmare still clings to your brow
And he speaks
Just when you can no longer stand the silence
He will dance in front of your little eyes
Just so the dark no longer seems evil

And when you stand alone in a crowded yard
Because your name is linked to a fictitious disease
Thought up by lesser imaginations
You can still have a friend that tells you you matter
Yet with this scenario comes our first con
People with no understanding of a great imagination
People who do not love it as they should
They tell you that because your friend is not technically real
That you must surrender him
You must lose him and take new friends
Friends that must be better because they are flesh and blood
Even though, they rejected you for nothing more
Than the jealousy that lesser imaginations feel

And so you do
Because you are imaginative, not stupid
You know that to argue would mean yet another label
This time the disease you earn is all too real
You don't fight losing your coping mechanism
You will survive
I will
Because I have a great imagination

II

I have a great imagination
One might even call it amazing
I would call it unstoppable
Because even when it takes heavy blow
It still goes on

It takes the loss of that imaginary friend
And it redirects
Barreling forward like a wayward locomotive
It promises you that you will still be ok
And you believe your imagination because the lies it tells
Are the kind you are willing to believe in the name of sanity

You get older
Keep the most fanciful of your imagination hidden
Because you've grown tired of the couch
That piece of hardened leather
Worn fabric situated under fluorescent lights
Lights, your imagination says, are there to push it away
The way the suited people speak
You know its right

But you need to let this imagination loose
You must have the release that it craves for you
This is the second pro
It can give you direction
You focus it
Control it
Weave it into magnificent fictions where the oddball can win
Or destroy the world, whichever your imagination prefers
You feel you have your true calling
This is the sign you need that you are destined
For more than ridicule
In the world of pages and ink, your imagination is free

The big con is
It is free and unbothered
As long as you keep it out of sight
The wolves who have been waiting to tear you assunder
Those false docs waiting to proclaim you mad
The enemies of imagination
They will look at the spoils of your toiling and tear into it
Every piece of fiction conceived that does not sit right is wrong
They say it is the result of the imagination's slow sister, The Subconscious

That very real disease that once threatened you returns
Its teeth barred
You stare into its thrashing jaws
The fear you feel is unlike anything you have before
But you tell yourself you will survive
You must
I must
Because I have a great imagination

III

I have a great imagination
It is wonderful
And it is maddening
Not mad at the angry screaming
But more of the psychotic laughing used to cover up the crying

The final con this imagination has is fear
As you move on from the lesser imaginations
And ignore those searching for hidden meanings in your scribbles
You start to rely more on your imagination
It hasn't led you astray and its lies are always beneficial
So you listen to it

Yet it stews in your skull
You don't engage it and it grows bored
So it comes up with new ways to terrify you
Just so it can amuse itself
It gives you pictures of the end and the blackness beyond
You see the faces of your mourners
You try to imagine life without you
And life in lifelessness

You hear about a superbug that masquerades
The deadly wolf in the ill sheep's clothes
The images of your imagination kick in and every cough
Every sniffle
Every slight wrong feeling in your gut and you crave Hazmat gear

You realize that you are not the protagonist of your own story
You are not the hero
You are not the plucky princess or the charming rogue
You are able to die at a moment's notice and are unsure of what awaits you
Heaven, Valhalla, blackness or lingering
You don't know and you aren't ready to find out

But in this con comes the final pro
Hope
When you are down , your imagination comes in to console you
Just like the ape from your childhood
It switches the visions
It stows the ones that terrify you for the moment
You now can picture yourself as a success

Your imagination paying off
Your dreams coming true
You picture that moment when you naysay the naysayers
They will come and beg forgiveness
Apologize
Everything looks bright

I can feel the wind in my face
And I have the courage to finally jump
I spread my arms like wings
And I soar
Closing my eyes to the wind
I don't care if I'm falling

Because I know
In the deepest pit of my heart
That I am actually flying
Because I have a great imagination
av willis Mar 2013
In a land beyond the rainbow
Stands a dark decrepit wood
Where monkeys glide between the branches
And witches live, both bad and good

There within its tangled branches
Lies a path bedecked with gold
Leading brave souls who do not blanch
On to wonders yet untold

Near this path of yellow mortar
Stands an ancient half hewn tree
Missing wood, about a quarter
Standing **** for all to see

In this wood there stands a hatchet
Once beloved, now fraught with rage
Just another rusted gadget
Cast by in the wake of age

On a gnarled and twisted root
Centered in a mushroom ring
Stands ***** a metal figure
Frozen ever in mid-swing

There he stands through frozen winters
There he stands through summer's heat
There he stands through April showers
Standing ever on his feet

Once he glowed a gentle pewter
Once he moved with solemn grace
Lines of rust bedeck his figure
Streaking slowly down his face

Once he stood a man of flesh
A simple hewer of the wood
Who held a cabin near the creek
And loved a maiden fair and good

In the village near the forest
There he sought to win her hand
A debt of love he'd pay with interest
If beside his side she'd stand

In the woods he sought the bride price
Needed to start their new life
In the trees he found the journey
Soon to be defined by strife

By an elm his axehead sundered
Cleaving cruelly through his arm
Through the boughs his loud cry thundered
To the heavens in alarm

To the ground his lost arm plopped
Landing softly with a thump
To the town the woodsmen hopped
Grasping at the ****** stump

There he found the village tinker
And roused him roughly from his bed
Dragging him out to the workshop
Leaking out a wake of red

There he begged the wizened workman
'Make a new arm from your cans
For i marry in a fortnight
Let my bride take a whole man'

So the old man plied his trade
To make a limb of springs and gears
Twisting tendons in a braid
To move his fingers through the years

Now renewed to former vigor
The Woodsman went back to his trade
Returning to the morning's rigor
Back into the ancient glade

Little did the doughty hewer
Know his axe contained a curse
Stricken on unknowing users
Causing their limbs to disperse

By an oak he lost his left ear
By a beech he lost the right
Hazel took him down a peg
And by a yew he lost his sight

Through the week the tinker labored
On in a rush to replace
Just enough of the woodcutter
To accept his bride's embrace

On the day his nuptials dawned
The woodsman clanged into the square
Passing through the crowd with awe
On to meet his maiden fair

There she stood beneath a trellis
Sky blue ribbons through her braids
Oh, she was a sight to rellish
Worth the trial of the glades

There he stood forever altered
A shadow of the former man
In this form forever haltered
To this shell of springs and cans

The cutter broke into a dash
To wrap his woman in his arms
On the cobbles his feet clashed
Causing her no small alarm

From the altar his bride fled
With screams of terror in her wake
On the day  he should have wed
Became the day his heart did break

Suddenly devoid of purpose
To the copse the woodsman flees
Never ere' again to surface
From the shelter of the trees

Months went by the woodsman toiled
Day and night, no pause to sleep
Day and night his kettle boiled
Over with the urge to weep

Till the sound of April thunder
Rumbled in the cutters ears
Bringing rain that tore assunder
Dams he'd built around his tears

So between his swings he wept
Of loss and of abandoned trust
Trails of tears in his joints crept
And hardened slowly into rust

Now he stands in frozen duty
Saplings rising all around
Dreaming of an ancient beauty
Long surrendered to the ground

Till the day another maid
Returns to bathe his limbs in oil
On that day he'll leave the glade
Moving on to other toils

Then the rust begins to part
Then the magic starts to slake
Then the woodsman finds his heart
Then the Tin Man starts to wake
Faith Inesso Mar 2015
It seems that I am indeed
Just another lost soul
Perhaps Floyd was right
Maybe the world is a fishbowl

But you see, the trouble
In all of this nonsense
Is that I still hope to see
You hop over my fence

Please tear down my wall
Oh, won't you come in?
I've been feeling comfortable
Yet numb, dismissing my sin

So what are we?
Essentially good, or not?
Do you find favor in Socrates?
Is Nietzche's idea the one you bought?

Let's question, let us wonder
Should my thoughts go assunder
Don't tip or toe, or go tumbling under
Nevermind the noise, it's just thunder

Get caught up in the spark
The rigid structure of light
Because you are alive
So live this gift of your life
Dada Olowo Eyo Feb 2013
I am not afraid,
To be honest with you,
My love for you is true,
Sharper, it is, than a two-edged blade.
Veracruz...she knows herself
Joe Cole Jun 2014
3am and the sky was split
by the mighty bolt that the heavens lit
then Thor did speak, intimidating,  loud
and his voice did shatter both mind and cloud
mighty bolts were more unleashed
to sear the eyes and shatter trees
which burst assunder into flames
but his plan was just to maim
to leave the scars upon the land
and thus came torrential rain
to extinguish trees
consumed by flame
but the pain and scars remain
as Thor played his mighty game
and vent his wrath upon mankind
for 3 long hours his voice was heard
fearce bolts from blackened skys
were hurled
striking fear into mankind
what angered Thor to vent his wrath
upon feeble humans trapped below
perhaps its time for man to change
to revert once more to natures game
and a better life to live
3am yesterday morning and hell broke loose overhead
Charles Berlin Mar 2010
Hearts of flint spark when collided
Bright bursts of light illuminate
Two paths finite convergance
Its a splayed line frayed where divided
Then returned to darkness winding blinded
Temptress spark degenerate
Into a throb of blunted thunder
Doomed to resonate
Their cataclysmic blunder
Permanence, a word unraveled
Illusions torn and thrown assunder
Torin Jun 2016
Fire is the sun and the moon
These dusty fields and broken streets I walk through
Fire is everyday and every word
And I am ashes
Ashes
Spread amongst the purslain
And the charging ocean winds
The vestigial glint of hope
I am ashes
Now
A ceremony
As ashes fall into place
I have to die
To be reborn

Oh
How have I died?
Only in your eyes and in your arms
I was burning with the rage of bullets
And pin-struck amorous lighting
A thousand needles
Each speaking the name of the flame
And stubbornly stabbing
My mind ablaze in torrid heat
How have I died?

Only in whatever way I had to

I am ashes
Falling slowly from the life I used to have
When all was fire
And I was cinder
I am ashes
Formulating in unexplained definitions
Where love is death and birth
The let of knowing holding on
And no wind could tarry me assunder

I am ashes
From a life before
A living heartbeat
And belief
I am ashes
Falling into place
Every little part of me
Who I was
And who I'll be
Well ******
Laughing Wolf Feb 2016
fury
of the lion:
golden warpath garland
thundering soul set forth by roar
sovereign savanna rex, pride in plain sight
majesty unkempt like his mane
heavy the head that wears
the primal crown...
fury

vision
of the eagle:
corneal coronas
scorch earth from soaring apexes
taloned streaks of lightning tear assunder
the prey of a thousand yard stare
she is a feathered seer
perched in a nest
vision

venom
of the viper:
his husk made of mica
syringed fangs apportion wisdom
slithering past Achilles' heel to heart
from perceptive directions hissed
strait tongues fork in the road
coursing in vein
venom
the evidence is here.



the water boatmen, long tailed

****, the state of the tide,

other misdemeanors.



i dreamed of japan, woke

assunder, messages

broke.



i made a bottle, then

the witnesses came.



it was quiet day in the studio.





sbm.
Let's burn this mother down
'Til no sign can be found
In the ashes of the vanities
That stain this ****** ground
Let's tear into another
Wasted day and rend assunder
The travesties and casualties
We've all been washing down
Let's purposely manhandle
What we know to be a gamble
For the chances that we've taken
In this god forsaken land
Haven't brought us to our maker
No mistaking there are fakers
But partaking by our silence
Still leaves us with ****** hands
Let's drive another nail
Into the heart of what's for sale
We've sold our dreams for lesser things
It's time that we prevail
So let's burn this mother down
'Til no sign can be found
In the ashes if the vanities
That stain this ****** ground
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2014
The days I fall hardest,
Are the ones kindest,
And were I to surrender,
Then all go assunder.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2014
Motorised thunder,
Tearing the forests assunder,
Death lay in their wake,
And the fear, no, 'tis not fake.
Literal translation: Western education is evil. This group has continued to pillage, abduct, destroy and **** innocent Nigerians. They have intensified their terrorist cruelties since President Goodluck Jonathan assumed power. BUT THEY CAN ONLY TRY. THEY CANNOT **** US ALL. WE WILL WIN.
doubt they will ever

be written, certainly

not this day, the

thirteenth of anniversary.



there will be reams, and ink

satined fingers, hair assunder,

wild eyes for the work. it is hotter,

we stick to linen

sheets. remember the words



from first, to last,

to write.



it will be a soliary task,

where no one enters,

consumes our tea.



the memoires may be written,

in the garden.



sbm.
Dada Olowo Eyo Oct 2022
Beaten by nature,
Beaten by fate,
Abandoned by the future,
Shackled by hate;

Everything against us,
Nothing works,
All conspire against us,
Nothing works;

Robbers gain entry,
Ransack our spaces,
With brazen effrontery,
Descecrate our ladies;

Kidnappers abduct us,
Demand huge ransome,
We sell the horse,
But ****, regardless the sum;

Terrorists massacre worshippers,
Leave trails of congealed blood,
Whole families in tatters,
Children cry, "why Lord?!"

Soldiers brutalise,
Intimidate and harass us,
Shoot with evident lies,
Then carry on without fuss;

The police betray truly,
Always hostile,
Never friendly,
Quick to open case file;

The government hate us,
From cradle to grave,
They rob us,
Then force us to behave;

The people, non wiser,
Mob and burn one another,
Rather than bond together,
They allow differences tear assunder.
Senor Negativo Jul 2015
She is a predator, that boldly strides through sunshine,
she left her post all day
...she lounged in the sky
Contented for an eternity,
in a world without time.

She's a passenger... nearly full and fertile.
never been hollow
forever a cascading chorus of birdsong
the tiny sacrifices delivered daily
...No longer sinking, moored in a glass still harbor
direct and vivacious.

She is flesh ...  blissfully encased
around a custom molded cylinder
...Terminated
...set free
a spirit of blood and skin
vacating this realm

She throws down coins of laughter
that fill my bowl like alms
Despair torn assunder
by satin palms
and smooth words
thank you for rejecting this
...they torment us
I will take with my touch
the poison be ******
Title suggestions appreciated.
beasts of fire
and guilt,
cannot fly, nor trace
the air with wings.

tethered angel,
in despair lowered eyes
and wept.

for those assunder,
need no
deprivation.

play the music softly.

we heard the canary sing.

sbm
T daniels Feb 13
Haggard fields,
A frozen landscape in ruins.
The last pale light of winter,
Fading over the horizon.

My lungs assunder
My hands covered in cheap wool,
The barn I dreamt weeps in hushed silences
Jennifer Beetz Nov 2018
It is in the garden of decay
where I learned about life
and how tenacious it is
no matter what the species
for example my brother
barely human by now
life lessons learned on
the back of death and
I think of a bumper sticker
I once saw, "Hard to ****"
No doubt yet being half
dead is an acquired skill

In a word, he is an atrocity

But consider this:
back to my garden where
miracles bloom even in
the stone cold of winter
A root has climbed around
A cocktail glass I sent sailing
in a fit of rage, in the dewy
promise of spring no less
and while hate raged in
the kitchen these two
singularly hopeless and
ugly broken things formed
a union that even throwing
more glasses at cannot tear
assunder

Well, tear ME assunder
why don'tcha?

Nope, being such a *****
has lost me that honor

Sincerely, Hard to ****
it happens to most of us,
some times, other times,
seem good, almost boring.

it knocks us sideways,
even assunder. i asked you
to carry me.

yet, you left me outside
in the rain. it has been
like this for days. wet.

most of us get over it.

use an umbrella.

sbm.
Lilly frost Sep 2019
Bestowed by a summers dream
A winters sleep
A falls cool sigh
And a springs daring eye
To lead with a love like no other
To cry with tears of paths torn assunder
To help and love and throw it all away, just dreaming about someday
But someday is never now and someday is never tomorrow
But someday just one-day I'd like to live like someday could be tomorrow
In an hour, a minute, a second
I'd like a chance where I wouldn't go and wreck it
A time, a place, a segment of space where I can find a someday
A someday to be
To live without need or want or worry
Where I can float in life instead of hurry
To live and breathe calm serenity
To fix an aimless path
And be by just being
Instead of forced believing in a tomorrow when tomorrow never comes
Everyday is the same day
No love is true love and even if it were its not my love
Because who could find love in aimless wandering?
Who could love a creature with no direction?
Who knows not head from foot or ceiling from ground.
Because of a someday I will dream until tomorrow
For a life that was earned and never meant to borrow
William Boateng May 2019
My eyes are open
I don't know where I stand
Welcomed into a world divided by credo
Everybody supporting a faith
A faith they fail to investigate

Searching for a creator
One unseen,one near and far
Told to be closest to those pure in heart
A father we all seek in ways diverse incomprehensible by the mind
Division among His children all in the name of spiritual enlightenment

The world is lost, I wail
Fighting each other because they follow a God they claim embodies LOVE

I believe in a God, my origin
My eyes are open,so must yours
Let's face reality and unite as one
Earth is our home, God is for us all

Let us keep our minds filled with the catchphrase" we are one people and one nation"
What God has put together let no man put assunder
Let's keep our love burning
Stu Harley Aug 2014
do not
let me
go assunder
nor
be buried
six feet under
lord
i want to go
where you
are Going
jiminy-littly Jun 2020
Modern pieces less than broke
Greater than places to store them

Less than assunder
Torn
greater than
By bankcraft
Greater than
Frightened less than
By Cowering
Wretched
Towering

Greater than shivers
of unending
Guarantees of happiness

Basically

unkept
Promises

Opening up to swallow
Your less than ninth
scented sensed
Throated
Greater than less
Om
River Aug 2017
Two hearts,
Beating afresh
Two stars,
Shining their best

Another one enters
Unbeknownst to the other,
Inundating the deceptor with incredulous *** and love letters
Causing the bond of two hearts to assunder

It's a game of the head
Feeling skin with fingertips
Entangled in a messy bed
******* on tender, lying lips

You look at her, your Queen of Love
You caress her cheek
Saying she was sent from Above
Yet, your love grows weak

For lust is your pursuit
You wrap it up and call it love
But call it by it's fruit
What is rotten cannot be love

For fear is the thing that makes love a game
You hold onto dying concepts, breeding strife
And try to convince yourself you still feel the same
As the day this angel walked into your life

But you put this Angel through Hell
And within the fire her heart has gone cold
You cast your hypnotic lover's spell
And she desperately clawed for it back, even selling her soul

But what is love,
If just a game
Shrouded in mystery,
But what if love is--

Merely vain.
William Boateng May 2020
My eyes are open
I don't know where I stand
Welcomed into a world divided by credo
Everybody supporting a faith
A faith they fail to investigate
Searching for a creator
One unseen,one near and far
Told to be closest to those pure in heart
A father we all seek in ways diverse incomprehensible by the mind
Division among His children all in the name of spiritual enlightenment
The world is lost, I wail
Fighting each other because they follow a God they claim embodies LOVE
I believe in a God, my origin
My eyes are open,so must yours
Let's face reality and unite as one
Earth is our home, God is for us all
Let us keep our minds filled with the catchphrase" we are one people and one nation"
What God has put together let no man put assunder
Togetherness
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
somehow i rewarched...
father of the bride today...
in between planting three
roses: hybrids...
cool names like: prima ballerina
tea sunset... etc.

   the wedding itself didn't put
me off...
beside the princess diary
   and... catching that whimsical
thread: hook... and sinker...

i also thought about two things
today while watering the grass
just so: with the drainage:
to get the proper mush-mush
feel of stepping on it...

the grass is going to become
my new pride...
swans... left in the bathtub...
bel-air...
and the fresh prince therein...
the ice-sculptures...

but that... there was a myth...
still alive... in 1990 h'america...
of a production and export
         dynamic?
           who was the last man to
walk in shoes that were
produced, last... in h'america...
beside that... "desgined" in calofornia...
manufactured in a chinese
sweat-shop?

mind-boggling...
a bit like... poland... once upon a time...
had a metallurgical heart...
men were men that did the honest:
good...
call the electrician or...
change the fuse gone dead
in the plug... first?

i thought about two things
when watering the grass...
i thought about smoking a cigarette...
and about... jerking off...
i did the former...
forgot to bother myself with
the later...
***... when you don't have access
to... a systematic toil of the matter...
can become...
hardly an exercise of pleasure...
it can become anything...
except that...

             before walking into
a brothel i'd rub my hands against
bricks....
in order to... feel...
an exponential worth of skin
upon touch...
toughened skin...
         it felt: most likely...
that i'd find a soothing sensation...
when it concerned the "question"
of leather... it's not akin
to curating pig-skin for leather
for a sofa...
it's still... a life with a breath...

they might want to ban...
the father of the bride...
                  i don't have the quizzical look...
or two munchkins at my disposal
to park 200 cars...
or a gucci suit i'd want to fake /
pull off as black... when in fact...
deep seeded navy...

           they might want to ban
the movie because...
                manufacturing jobs...
in h'america?
california produced sport shoes...
did they... magically... spit on...
laurel leaves to conjure up...
prosthetics and...
gum-bear bacon to sleuth...
and wear to be worn down...
come... the 20 year gap?

           cherished plum! eye of my mind...
a daughter to be readily sanctified...
so cherished that she will have...
her... pride parade oops in white...
and..
it's a movie like no other movie...
since...
  the metallurgy was shut-down
in eastern europe...
the divisions and the winds
assunder...
cheaper does it...
but the quality...

   i still own a shirt... fathomed
in bangladesh...
     i could wear it for fifteen..
     but... given the currency of:
made to be easily exhausted...
the chinese "embargo":
nothing is to be traded globally...
if it is... it is to be manufactured
in china...

the lost currency of plumping...
and the new economy of:
time-eating...
        the new economy of:
ice-queen pirouettes...
                     the basking in...
detailing the artifacts of "absence"....
the eastern european...
metallurgy dynamic...
no black slave ever worked
in a coal mine...
           picking cotton isn't exactly
the equivalent of mining for coal...
this shirt off my back?
you can have it...

              adolescence of arguments...
who is to fathom the circus...
when... one isn't allowed...
paint for ogling scare and scared face...

this house... which i can't envy...
this story: which i can't envy, either...
this bride: this take on the in-laws...
this pristine... lie:
this "reality"...
this summation of cruxes laying
the path of X walking a "question" apart...

all that's anything worth...
a... lessening of humour...
when the reflection... extracted from
water... is a ghost...
a ghost-esque synonym of fading
memory...
the old reflection... born from water...
like the old forbidden fruit...
perhaps the fruit was...
to have... stated the a posteriori
niqab: consummation point -
that the gods were like us...
should we find enough water...
to peer into... and find ourselves:
the lesser of the apes: and half-witted gods...

then born from water...
a fading reflection... a ghost visage...
but... perfected... sharpened...
and now standing before
a mirror...
what was once a reflective piece...
of apparatus...
a fading clue...
had to become...
a reflexive: frankenstein myth...
a retort! an aghast and a horrowing
miasma of... borrowed...
vowel-consonant compensations
of... left-over reasoning(s)...

     standing before a mirror:
****... reflex comes itching...
talking becomes... breaking...
a solipsistic adventure in quasi...
but... taking to...
a reflection in a puddle...
or a lake...
or a glass of water...
or... a black coffee cup...
i lose the ability to reflex my
"circumstance"...
i reflect... i fade...
i marry the murk of the diabolical
waters...

as i re-imagine cinema...
9 hours worth of...
resident evil 2... walkthrough video...
which is not...
gone with the wind...
which is not...
     the director's edit of:
apocalypse now!
or ben hur! shy of 4 hours...

but this... game... walkthrough?
over 9 hours...
a cinema for...
post-hoc gaming...
     cinema-esque revelations...
old ideas: old hamster...
but an apparently new: wheel...

- the genius that conjured up a blatant
combination of...
an iceberg (salad) and some
mayonnaise...
     who might also...
curate the geometric skeleton
of square...
along... the bonus of...
the shading synonym differentiations
of...
the in between of when
blue came along with yellow...
and... bob's your uncle...
out came green...

                      the wrapping of a tortilla...
and the unpacking of a stranger's suitcase...
then the tortilla as the reinvented:
toast... because... sooner or later...
it will be known...
continental crows are much
fatter than their cousins on the isles...
except for the freaks they...
fatten with... black pudding and blood
soaked crumbs at the white tower
of loon'down...
  by that... murk of a river...
with no... blessing of a concept
of time... as... passing...
but... instead... bothersome...
because... it has... a tide... and hours...
subsequently...

                  it's not that subjectivity is "bad",
per se...
it's not like there's a way to
escape: being subjected to...
                gravity... time...
sure... the ++ benefits of being objective
about space: one can easily objectify
space...
but one... can't... objectify time...
beside that one time it was tried...
and so history became...
"something borrowed"...
clown and circus mad envy riddle
of marking bull *******
for the dough, and...
it was never... the hammer and the nail...
the sickle and the shaft of wheat...

because the stereotype hanged supreme...
the new... "capitalists"...
had a word to say...
but also managed...
what they managed...
the mug prints... the t-shirt... prints...
d.j. arcadia!
               prometheus...
           loan word bargain:
the carbon footprint of the collateral
social distancing laws...

       and what "talk" of love is there...
what pompous ****-ah-zoid is about
to lay the foundations of "function":
best... left... undisturbed...
        this lacklustre of the idealism:
love central: i'd love you tripple
and treble "good-time"...
make you ****... **** thrice...
******* **** go numb!
   fishing for shrimps!

              curl up all your *****:
give that... "excess" of *******
the geese-strutting... "bumps"...
                      
  here's to: any and every... imitation
junk-e and the yard to fathom a be...
here's to... any and every...
imitation... fast-trolled gimmick...
moth chaser...
like an exploding bottle
of carbon dioxide contained within:
the turkish buddha...
sitting akimbo...
               a feasing of... translation...
of a postcard with a DASEIN
implied...
no smarter than... the runner concept...
designed for... he...
who... would... stand... still...
and watch... warsaw and manchester...
grovel before the alter altar of time...

how can one be...
subjective about... space?
how is subjectivity... something "less"...
than objectivity?
time is subjective...
space is objective...
             i once asked...
i'm no einstein... einstein imagined
travelling at the speed of light...
light travels with our understanding of:
c²  -
           i asked...
what of...                  c³?
                the concept of light... cubed...
subjecivity is a purely communist
child... abhored... "wrong"...
to be the subject of:
the defenders of the crown!
  i asked... what of light that is...
stationary... c³... surely there must be an equation
to compensate a loss of the mobility of
light?

the speed of light: cubed:
thus stationary: light as stationary
expansion...
              
what is so... possibly wrong with:
the subjectivity...
because of the crown...
a communist variation is: absolutely wrong...
retards are being claimed to govern
new grounding...
because the smart people are all:
objective...
the novel and the novella written
from the perspective of objectivism...

subjective is ******...
objective is genius...
        that's the ******* motto!
repeat!
repeat!
              repeat!
subjective is ******!
objective is genius!
                 that thinking is
more important than feeling...
sure... and...
not feeling is most important
to give a birth to thought!
apathetic, solipsistic... semi-
if not wholly-consumed by...
an autism of capitalistic-objectivity...
and... sociopathy...

   for all the worth of thinking:
and... that thinking...
this prized asset of objectivity...
the keter... crown...
without... the subjectivity of...
the yesod... the foundation...
            schizoid paraphrasing
a last known unison of...
a constellation... somewhere...
and a universe: for some...

subjectivity is no wrong:
if you want to be subjected to...
reading a novel by Stendhal...
because to read a Stendhal novel...
to be without a subjectivity "bias"
is to... not enjoy
the act of reading to begin with...
one will be granted a "moral superiority"
as the objective reader of...
diatribe falsetto "journalist"
bogus print-god work of
satanic **** being glorified...
what's so... communist...
about "it" being subjective...
and what's so... capitalistic...
about "it" being objective?
  
the people "in the know"
who always want to be "right"... right...
subjectivity is bad:
because...
all the ******* time...
we can just.. "opt out"... from...
being... objectified by gravity!
i much... prefer...
the subtle cookie-variation of...
well... sport... son of sam...
i'm subjected to gravity...
by being subjected to gravity...
i can cut a crisp escapism...
i will transcend the: being subjected to...
and object to it...
and i will give myself:
Icarus-esque dreams
of closely related fathomability...

but i need to know...
what being subjected to said "thing"
implies!
i can't just... play the idealist...
and ping-pong... and object-object my way
out of this... "scenario"...

the genius of capitalism
and the retardation of communism...
while... the capitalists...
exported all their... manufacturing
jobs to... the crying dragon...
well... if not ****** then...
absolute genius!

subjectivity is bad...
objectivity is good...
"somehow"...
        i like eating pork...
i also like frying it...
           the placebo...
        anemia of objectivist scrutiny
statements...
who gives a **** if you...
once upon a time...
enjoyed eating a steak...
        you will not be subjected
to beef...
you will objectify beef...
you will drop these pills...
of replica... of the stated nutrients...
and you'll ******* smile
while you're at it! savvy? sputnik jim?!
Charles Vorpal Jan 2020
This be the Year of the Rat
We must now worship the Cat
For the pest brings pestilence
And the Mau hunt with excellence
Forsake the Oriental zodiac we must
A new worship of divine felines is just
Please come, O heavenly cute hunter
Tear the ambassadors of illness assunder!
May the mighty divine feline
Save us from cursed decline
I just made the connection between this hellish scenario and the current Chinese zodiac...

Also, because I am a traitor to my race, culture and religion/beliefs, I present you this poem, inspired by current global events:
this lowest of the low lows of form of employment:
night shifts at Elephant & Castle:
i imagine the Elephant Man... but no castle of ivory:
a day off:
lazy writing:
i wanted some of that
like slow *** with Edie
and Edie breast feeding me:
honey: munch: pooh bear my ditto
i think you are lactose intolerant...

          oh i love lazy writing
and listening to... seminal... music critique comes
out with a: Hello, my name is Bob
tag in a comico-horror movie...
i tried watching a silent movie
two nights ago:
Nosferatu... i tried... i loved the organs...
what a strange medium:
that light came before sound...
maybe that's why silence is so elusive:
alluring:
i once said as a child:
i can't hear silence...
            i can't hear silence...

can i see nothing?
Fire, Water, Earth, Air... Lightning (shh shh)...
hammer weilding lover of words
the ******* Barbarians
the deserts and the high winds
Vikings left us for Valhalla
while the Arabs remained...
but the civilised worlds of men
didn't cherish words and god and the gods
as much as these extremities...
ties to belonging nowhere-homebound
in God a Home an abode:
nomads: i salute you!
Lebanon i cry for the creeping forest
of the North:
with my almighty pines
i will switch them for palms...

from vampire fingers to sticks with *****:
like lucrative Lebowski memes...
spice my life up a little...

so the Vikings were barbarians:
elsewhere the Swedes founded Kyiv:
and i think i was there...
then all the petty squabbles and cobblers
of Rome and Byzantine:
while Arab said to Iraq and Iran
and Syria: hey... bible is too ****** g
*******... i have the Quran...
Quest Ran and rand... sometimes a spontaneous
ghost town in Morocco...

so many denominations and
a monotheism so in splinters
for each a toothpick and a crucifix
to weigh down a spirit in flight...
assunder an d     with hope of drowning
but still swimming...

butterfly: MOTYL
fly: MUCHA...

                 butter in flight? butter is yellow
the white of no colour and the butterfly is
and the fly is... Albanian suss and filter brains...
while England before the Saxons
was like Afghanistan to Americans
like for Ancient Rome:
and seeing modern Italians...
i don't see an inch a grain of Ancient Roman
in them...
Italians are freakish hybrid of
werido... ******* ******... Reyla says...
pasierbica: step-daughter... i think... Fosse...
septology: i think... i thin k:
i sometimes think it's annoying:
annoying is no closing and opening of consciousness:
twos in two and two more apart:
schizoid...
i need for far more brain-cells to die with
my chemistry experiment with alcohol and the body:
pushing limits...
i'm still drinking a LITRE of the "WATER" of "LIFE":
almost every day...
brain is less a concern as KIDNEYS become
something for my palette:
dialisis from Nigerian wisdom...
some covert and CIA zunge tabbing...
i'm thirsty: i want some fire-water...
like spooning honey infused with ****
gob full before the toddler's pool of (the above)...

scuba dive and order an Uber...
people i sometimes mind...
friends like painters and talk of games
and travelling the universe:
talking into the night...

          tic tac toe: spinster: i know she honey
trapped me...
she edited that picture so much i wasn't really
looking at the cleaning and polishing
i was ac tually looking at her psychology:
but then she spinn ed that
           well: can't apply diacritical markers in
the English tongue:
so might as well spice it up
with the antithesis of the apostrophe apostriphe:
some added spice of dyslecia
and X
      couldn't could not
  wouldn't would not
            shouldn't should have not
haven't have not
                   have and heaving heaven:
that's not a haven:
the postmasters of Hell are most economic: ""
pristine in their insomniac duty...

because a new Dandy Warhols' album
is like the reinvention of Eminem
because i don't buy into black culture...
it's rap so boorish and then comes
dyslexic spew boring like Curt Kobain
and yeah x yeah = yeah yeah
while R.E.M. took the **** with a Man
on the Moon...

             post-ethnocide or post-racialism:
when the Spaniards reached South America
and there were black Cubans...
and we said: Latinos are people
of the descent of the Mayans,
            Aztecs... Peruvians i don't remember:
i doubt, therefore i must also negate:
then i think... but then thinking doesn't
percipitate into being: too many thoughts
to posit a pintpoint a coordinate of the whole
of life: i am: but i onl;y come across i am:
when i die...
death unites and clarifies pins and points
on the Globus of the 'Ed...
i don't i do = i am
        i think i don't think: things and no equations...

thinking is not like rain
on the earth of being...
thinking doesn't respect life
thinking is morality and
no amount of haram pork
will confuse you: thinking alone
will do...
   twice over and hello:
bilingualism is nowdays treated
as schizophrenia in England:
or has been... ever since i was:
under scrutiny...

    but then enough ******* circus
allowed the world to be gripped
by... and like paitence is a form of torturing
someone...
i took out two models
in a cascade of words to live by:

the Chinese gold:
treat others like you want to be treated
and
that other one:
the French:
live and let live.

— The End —