love   apple   like   time   know   feel   heart   bed   little   life   home   red   boy   georgie   sleep   away   left   dear   ruth   gone   just   right   long   mind   hope   hair   mi   parts   say   fear   met   laugh   makes   sailing   make   tell   hands   day   poem   different   small   words   private   wish   legs   child   man   free   te   welcome   easy   apples   meteorite   smile   flower   want   way   arms   look   eyes   better   war   lie   good   thing   truly   teeth   passion   thought   work   seen   letters   friend   talk   brought   future   fingers   knew   imagination   sure   told   space   cold  la   mask   black   big   bite   age   size   shadow   petals   inane   stretchmarks   medic   we've   wouldn't   hear   tap   really   best   goes   face   gray   maybe   things   dream   tongue   forever   hate   set   room   death   need   truth   comes   night   lost   calves   pain   end   years   brings   touch   feet   blades   memories   new   core   times   dead   favorite   finally   minute   brain   hearts   getting   belly   far   rain   blue   knees   filled   stupid   woke   cream   fit   young   brown   se   fat   tan   cough   spoke   says   unlike   footprints   ******   rough   forward   buckle   blues   task   shoulder   grace   *******   reason   nostrils   firm   juice   palms   someday   mis   thumbs   screams   arguments   wobble   *****   elbows   *******   wrists   headaches   amo   pesky   ligaments   one-liners   thoughts   later   ash   clouds   lips   dreams   breath   mouth   hold   sense   taking   world   bit   speak   dance   gave   shall   ready   skin   air   single   breathe   button   peace   choices   hill   wrong   weak   close   use   quite   sky   phrase   darkness   justice   sound   unable   brave   holding   deep   grabbed   ****   try   building   paper   lunch   think   kind   stay   days   smooth   perfect   learned   care   fair   hard   grant   sweet   high   fruit   short   terms   kept   relationship   underneath   presence   water   looking   fool   sorrow   tree   second   delicate   nearly   happy   line   tall   tried   sad   satisfied   point   feels   falling   purpose   game   lazy   que   amor   agree   known   naught   loss   broke   failed   games   limp   grin   final   spring   act   south   flare   race   sake   car   large   wishes   neck   blink   knife   seeing   idea   steve   company   greens   spread   ship   lo   sally   sum   drowned   december   weep   sting   smiles   lessons   promises   successful   whistled   drowns   perfectly   pleasing   failure   brothers   cliche   harder   thirteen   ale   signs   limit   serenity   mundane   origin   chat   sapphires   handshakes   skinny   contagious   succeeding   super   refer   maturity   destination   civil   uncomfortable   collects   clack   liz   beatles   vez   attract   accomplishment   backside   throes   flaccid   audi   oneself   beastie   applesauce   naivete   bungalow   outie   there's   couldn't   isn't   they're   let's   'n   primos   primas   cantuta   fronton   redd's   mott's   innie   phallicly   tiny   fight   yo   para   walk   ****   hello   light   flash   silent   stone   does   forth   conversation   polite   green   minutes   ****   clear   flesh   couple   wake   anger   throw   torn   tangle   play   shattered   soldier   land   victim   carry   battlefield   came   darkest   blood   battle   warm   shine   reminds   lose   eye   dismay   hide   impossible   fast   earth   grab   stand   die   worse   year   people   white   story   hit   god   anxiety   realize   fall   asleep   dark   course   apart   morning   remain   beauty   ****   slowly   start   happen   remember   pray   past   easily   straight   mean   hand   driving   instant   thunder   messages   friends   old   coming   pen   seeds   shape   wasted   word   living   tore   shadows   knowing   bad   class   joy   trust   leaves   path   sun   ways   leave   meet   broken   head   weight   means   mountain   boys   true   stars   learn   sliced   naive   decided   player   actually   reality   ease   music   hood   desperate   promise   wishing   begin   miss   caressing   moan   thighs   heard   pretty   emotion   figure   floor   exotic   sand   hits   angel   awake   dreaming   probably   wins   seek   stretch   loved   tears   heartbreak   punk   walking   piece   furniture   unreachable   roots   near   deserve   simple   cats   tail   precious   lovers   loves   mother   tongues   clueless   share   taken   yesterday   faith   freedom   ripe   cursed   running   yes   unknown   feeling   going   stairs   opposite   wonder   afloat   packed   bones   acting   playing   wind   passions   dismissed   hourglass   reached   stares   mouths   singing   shaped   trapped   toll   dies   rock   trunk   discovered   especially   dull   choice   awful   patient   great   indoors   attached   thread   shoulders   warms   bright   bring   ending   drowning   sadness   winter   baby   looked   cute   beating   tight   kids   crying   ran   intoxicating   growing   saying   opposites   melancholy   gives   follow   clearly   dove   tu   soon   entwined   juicy   drown   laid   took   moved   bear   anyways   shirt   negative   clean   guide   sore   location   faux   nodded   glance   caught   chances   week   started   today   obvious   sweat   ***   quiet   laughed   worry   round   ladies   mama   smack   goodbye   rising   sides   wished   beds   infinite   positive   scared   admittedly   mistakes   meal   common   rises   toes   bullets   bound   suited   birth   clothes   belt   pounds   ground   barren   sitting   table   woe   swimming   stick   deepest   motion   cleared   sing   angry   action   sons   smiled   bedroom   wall   wiped   grins   mad   july   store   road   snow   pulse   important   adventure   exactly   foundation   trap   colors   floors   neon   outside   language   summer   north   fifty   served   wavy   kick   raw   thirty   row   changed   hanging   lied   drenched   companion   begins   strength   flies   direction   okay   stories   inky   stubborn   cloud   track   described   lover   replaced   pit   packs   circling   honest   wage   dinner   slave   paradox   faking   screamed   lightning   exterior   stopping   complete   deal   rifle   dependent   gifts   dancer   vision   students   horror   punch   anymore   pack   sagging   folk   honestly   tearing   prepared   creatures   listening   rhythm   unique   roar   card   glass   stage   desert   offered   fought   suffer   awoke   master   eating   furnace   glad   choir   graceful   *****   treasure   ships   bark   musical   strand   bee   finished   pink   slink   stronger   disclose   gravity   schedule   march   medicine   hates   weird   brush   laughs   helped   june   pitched   dumped   tense   sin   withdrawn   stem   proved   whispered   anew   amazing   louder   english   knocked   chilly   boots   false   mistake   toffee   whistle   smirk   gas   poised   buttons   bet   necks   elate  vi   bleak   decades   intention   plane   swollen   unseemly   en   sir   creeping   tells   success   doth   ***   balance   ant   fourth   fits   matters   pan   shook   tingle   dusty   reaching   thanked   careers   pile   tempt   ix   xi   xii   xiii   moms   hushed   spears   twinkling   works   fairytale   double   fighter   shocked   barriers   boot   thanks   solitary   lesson   owned   systems   groan   weekend   tomatoes   cider   calculating   drawer   partially   handy   stumpy   album   appealing   pet   unfortunately   jokingly   hotel   teacher   tag   eighteen   leg   dash   peep   betwixt   swear   attempt   inescapable   venues   worker   suit   coughed   remembers   rhyme   listed   chatter   stuff   assist   blocks   sheen   stanzas   jobs   cleaned   handshake   natural   moi   fantasy   cheers   smaller   curl   nay   leaning   frequent   eggs   cuando   el   desayuno   tus   beige   imperfections   difficult   darlings   overcome   oranges   keys   newfound   fairly   occasions   stats   ponder   pools   ablaze   rushes   fret   quell   breads   progress   comfortable   settling   desks   tile   trails   rainy   homemade   stunned   cemetery   plus   ideas   avocados   bananas   apply   latch   rocky   digress   experiences   vacation   sanctuary   earlier   rocket   precise   various   author   pie   explosions   *******   lighter   matched   plunged   isaac   jefferson   abe   measured   saturday   claw   welcoming   gear   trained   suffocation   leapt   gap   lee   disturbed   es   thrill   alarming   grill   frankly   importantly   una   fray   candied   amalgamation   nasty   american   optimism   guns   craters   contracted   rampant   unattainable   spilled   courts   carrots   shuffled   combined   blonde   forgave   artillery   sandwich   comfier   limitation   personalities   friday   strongly   crude   banana   tennis   limits   quaking   recesses   loot   andromeda   shells   playful   luckily   area   upwards   flail   largest   sappy   freckles   biology   fruition   cases   overtook   pinks   instruments   brownies   birthmark   reinforce   laptop   pirates   blinks   frontier   forwards   resonate   capacity   mumbled   marched   scraping   prompts   multiply   haiku   football   como   function   unfeeling   eighty   backsides   prompt   raced   blare   likewise   pro   chrome   gran   pears   puede   corazon   elated   indecisive   basketball   burgundy   synonyms   braced   effeminate   mutually   duties   companies   honeymoon   flailing   patted   mayo   headon   pero   misma   marveled   aforementioned   abhors   forefront   hesitating   identical   creepy   possessive   screeched   gotcha   infidelity   friction   barrage   nonetheless   disparate   itchy   apex   gettysburg   lunchtime   pickup   muchas   then   and   trading   distinguishable   pitches   bunk   ven   ladylike   encompasses   diagrams   underlying   spaghetti   soccer   trashcan   papa   disarming   finalmente   clashed   rosie   smirks   snapshot   pug   songbird   spitfire   yanks   thankfully   mesa   flexing   virginia   effectively   variations   eclipses   tambien   outrun   incident   vitamin   willpower   underdog   hardboiled   miniscule   checkerboard   entrust   siento   heavyweight   davis   thyroid   foreshadowing   frances   heresy   starburst   deficiency   sawing   peruvian   leche   antithesis   villanelle   alliteration   hora   vivir   clacking   droopy   whizzed   britney   futbol   parameters   disney   mangos   disproportionate   orbiting   tanka   stubby   intro   listo   goldilocks   teamwork   pbj   exemplifies   rey   retainer   tenia   triples   espanol   estuvo   castillo   ferrying   suficiente   racecar   dorky   garganta   veo   julio   peripherals   labios   rojos   foreseeable   frito   groggily   venn   macbook   inanely   hubo   goofball   you've   she's   weren't   wasn't   we're   others'   you'll   should've   haven't   what's   you'd   they'd   man's   boys'   god's   woman's   fruit's   orion's   newton's   lincoln's   adam's   momma's   ******   jackson's   audis   dulces   disproportionately   charon's   deseos   avocadoes   hailey   eran   beatles'   ingles   he   she   it   rackets   --   hashtag   sixty-three   duct-tape   joysticks   sherman's   15   6th   32   500   7th   2013   extraño   barenaked   tamales   6-year-old   tierras   derpy   ewell   rom-com   themit's   adan   mudpits   puddlepits   war--hell   culp's   shitpits   completaron   chocolatada   levantanse   duraznos   n'sync   huevo   cholitos   levantaron   manzanas   endurece   wozniak's   dispara   nuez   open-endedness   innies   cankles   dunder-mifflin   tunks   buck-toothed   outies   grief-blown   a-gawking

.let's begin: i've been watching youtube haemorrhage over the past few years (4 / 5 in total) and... i do still enjoy the sort of cabaret weimar associated with criticalcondition when comapred to beanie hat tim pool... sorry: i just like a bit of cabaret, i know that comedy is translated in the western lands by stand-up monologues, but in germany and poland: cabaret is the toy assurance to compensate the justifications for theatre or opera... i like criticalcondition, trans-, ******: my my, how did the chemistry prefixes of attachement groups of a benzene ring overpower bio-realism? imagine a blocked toilet in terms of hinduism / buddhism in terms of the metaphysics of reincarnation... well: metaphysics by their great culinary understanding implies: a return to the same debacle, perhaps only slightly elevated... we have already reached a post- gott ist tot scenario of metaphysics... gott is quiet apparent, since the ancient greeks believed that "shamed" men would come back as women: now? the women did a shortcut... they said: tod ist tot... wouldn't that be the case? a blocked toilet, well... if god has to die first, then death itself has to die, ergo: tod ist tot! ha ha... imagine... to think of the glamorous concept of eastern theology as nothing more than a plumber's day-shift... looks like the toilet is blocked... since... men are not spawning into female form after death, instead, deciding to spawn back into male form with a female "brain"... who is that god of mischief in hinduism? oh... look! Aditi! well it's not an isolated case, is it? i once picked up a thai surprise from a park bench, played her some jazz, ****** her in the garden... bangkok ladyboys are the duran duran of 1980s electro-puppy-pop! once god dies, death follows suit... after all... death is (a) shadow of (the) god... blocked toilet metaphysics, all the brahmin as running wild, naked, psychotic: but the lesser men were not supposed to know they were reborn into female bodies, there was that safety net in place to: let them reincarnate with an amnesia principle! what's happening?! the women are raiding up the ranks?! contrapoints compared to tim pool? sorry beanie-boy... you're not the beastie... quiet... i'd love to b.j. that make-up off from contrapoints... problem being... i love when a ****** speaks so much sense... but... hands... i find a woman's hands too be the most ****** aspect of her body... 4/5... that's a fraction... for my five knuckles in terms of hand size, ***** "envy" and what my five knuckles look like to a woman's 4? you get the picture... there is also another fraction... 72 genders?! wha-?! i see gender in the 3/2 fraction... a woman can satisfy three men... the ****, the **** the mouth... a man... can only satisfy 2... the **** and the mouth... oh... wait... 3/3... someone can be giving him a b.j. while he's giving him a b.j..... it's still a blockage of reincarnation though... the greeks believed the lesser man was to be reborn in a "lesser" body... ****, i always forget how the ratio works... i always think: 1 man has 3 options of entry, 3 women have 1 point of entry each... but fraction is wonky though... in that... a woman can entertain three variations of entry: mouth, ****, ****... but a man has to entertain two points of entry and one point of insertion... so the fraction still stands at 3/2... which makes the islamic celestial harem nonsense... unless equipped with an exess of res extensa ****** to satiate the hunger of 72 virgins... a ****** gambit if you ask me... 72 virgins sounds more like a headache than what Solomon forsake in owning for the queen of Shēba... king! Solomon! after all the *******, enough wisdom suddenly trickled into his head, and he chose the route of the monogamy of birds! mind you: whatever wisdom king! Solomon ever had to begin with... i would still favor king David... i like a man with a distrust of women and having an unadulterated desire for music as second to none medicinal property to cure existential ailments; i tried *******, no good... sure, great exercise... esp. with prostitutes... but an in depth analysis of the perpetuated banality of life and how to learn to masquerade it behind a veil of seemingly banal? a harem will not help, but music will. even nietzsche understood this... criticalcondition: i do actually fancy him it her they... she does have that: je ne sais quoi air... weimar cabaret "revised"... not quiet the switz cabaret dada voltaire... but all i know is the number of holes of points of insertion and the fact that i have hands the size that could hold a basketball in one... and how... oh, wow! i really came late to the asian fetish party late... here, have some grenades! **** ying, cat meng, na mu han, you mi, ni ye teng, ai sayama, hoshina mizuki, ayaka noda, (l)im ji hye, lie fei er, (barbie) ke er... ergo? this whole asian fetish scene? am i looking at dolls? i'm not even sure... am i white, by comparison to these procelain babushkas?! i'm not white: orange man bad! i thought so too: i'm... piglet! the i'm not white: these girls are... and the funny thing is, the "funny" thing, is? i don't have to see much more beside the cleavage or the ******* or the thighs to... hey! i'm a late bloomer to this asiatic fetish... side-tracked by the european transgender ******* and the thai surprise ladyboys... what is **** what isn't ****: that, really depends on how much you rely on your imagination... if a sight of white, porcelain cleavage gets you off... who the hell needs the whole "show"... after all... even the niqab is a game on how to arouse the male libido... it's pretty hard to be aroused by a fully exposed female torso like some maasai ivory beauty... then the "said" objects are more functional and designated for feeding purposes... than ***** *******... aren't they?! oh i can see a revision of the niqab... imagine this in saudi arabia... both the eyes are not hidden from view, as isn't the mouth! batman 2."oh"... oh i don't like these new communists in the west... white... priv. who, that japanese?! i'm not white, i said it already and i'll say it again: i'm not a porcelain doll! talk to the **** about white privilege... they're the ones with milk veils... my "white privilege" is only associated to having blond hair, green or blue eyes... it has nothing to do with... skin!

i’m suspicious of the ones that say: without telling the truth
we can moralise, by not stating the truth
we can allow ourselves falsehood in the prime
instinct to provide replicas of ourselves
without truth of two subject interacting,
but merely the truth of two objects interacting
reducible into the dwarf of darwinism
that speaks: over-sexualise and feel less encountered
by understanding the opposite!
so much is true in this era - with the english poodle
waggling in frenzies for the americans to spectate and applaud...
i’ve had to become a german in england,
the sort that might be liked by nietzschean arrogance,
but apart from that i’m working on how
certain people simply use words rather than letters,
how they can never use the shovels and pickaxes,
how this congregation of atheists at comic stand-up shows
is doing my head in: a theological mid-life crises,
this blatant take on theology using the logic:
from monkey you came, to monkeying you shall return...
now that trends like the crown all animals have,
all animals already unique do not need to replicate consciously,
but man is stumbling into wasting his conscious on replication,
on plagiarism... it’s so odd... so so odd! why would man
waste his consciousness to simply invoke replication?
where’s the self in that, the anti-frankenstein story so powerful
he does not wish to do anything other than marvel at
the connectivity of the bone to the nerve to the muscle?
the 20th century gave birth militant atheism -
the 21st century is labouring with a different kind of atheism -
the sort of atheism that says no barriers exist between master and servant
as between worm and pigeon - even though
the depression of the master is opposed to the servant’s depression
that he only spots analogues within the framework of
synonymity with other masters... ‘why are we so depressed?’
asked master a, ‘i have no idea,’ answered master b over lunch.
in the lower decks of the ship servant a says to servant b -
- ‘god, i rowed all day long, i’m so ****** tired!
no thought will keep me awake.’
- ‘that’s true, i’m knackered also, broken limbs of my effort
like a chestnut, no thought will keep me awake either,
lucky we exhaust the body.’
- ‘too true, with the body exhausted the mind is never disputed
never disputed by not having origins in thinking
but rather having origins in the body.’
- ‘verily, i rather our fate than the masters’ fate.’
- ‘why?’
- ‘as you said, our’s is the story of ****** demands,
their’s is a story of thought’s demands,
meaning they exhaust their mind in the accesses
thought provides, it’s like a secondary body we have no knowledge of,
they are exhausted by thinking because their body is not exhausted.’
- ‘makes sense.’
- 'hence their malady of melancholia and our as simple exhaustion.'
- 'where’s the buffer?'
- 'in the olympians, the discus throwers, the most positive lot, and due to this, the easiest
to break down from high positivity; they have no awareness
of complex thinking and are quickly undermined with all this sports’ psychology!'
- 'true to the burning tire... it's all dietary awareness and muscle bulk with them after a loss.'
- 'indeed, as our's is with aesop dreamily awaiting a freedom that’s an anarchy,as translated from aesop's fables into
spartacus' resolve.'
- 'ah yes, that old spartan revolt in the roman empire.'
so like i said, i do know that darwinism is the new super cool sensibility,
taking into account more than 10,000 years of history
and talking about it for 2 hours wishing that something
spectacular might happen tomorrow, or any other given day...
but like i said previously... darwinism just killed history...
outside the realm of journalism we’re talking millions of years...
so why would i give a **** if it’s a friday the 23rd of october in the imaginary year 2015?
well if you put crocodile into a pile of hyenas you’ll probably
get a a cuckoo mixed with a squid because of the beak shared by the two...
i know, atheism is cool, for now,
but when the quantum j provides the classical physics’ objects like jupiter
you’ll ask what the quantum of j is... and i’ll say... full-stop...
that’s because, perhaps, i never use language as:
copy - work - paste - with - copy - me - paste - on - copy - this - paste - one,
but rather...
w - grammatical arithmetic (g.a.) - o - g.a. - r - g.a. - k,
because no one can tell me that the letter j
is uniform in the context of i or k...
as the quantum phonetics of uttering the word
onomatopoeia... is no different from uttering the word bull...
so many variables of spotting the quantum physics
in pronunciation... so many varying levels of required energy
to utter j or k... onomatopoeia or bull -
so... what's the antonym of quantum - the maximum
amount of any physical entity involved in an interaction -
i know that poets speak of grains of sand = no. of stars
and that the mathematicians use the curtain of infinity
to digress... but finding the maximum will be harder
given that there will be no socratic knowledge to use as canvas...
i.e. nothing;
added to the fact that there’s a non-differential quantum
that makes ë and em almost identical in terms of the least energy used,
this humanistic paradox of bonding means there is no unique human
sound that doesn’t borrow another human sound to execute a phoneticism,
otherwise ë and em translate as eh and humming anti-treble of the lips, or finger licking mmm of kentucky.
actually... we have the opposite of quantum physics...
the body functions within an ~37ºC emission...
there are four seasons in a year... the earth's orbit is 365 days,
i just took all the known macro units
and consolidated them in the micro unit of joules undifferentiated
in terms of observable "energy."

Now,
Don't you tell me to chill.
Like the Beastie Boys I've
got a license to ill.
Over-confident for
insecurity's sake.
An ego so big
sudden drops could
cause a quake.

Now,
Shake-Sha-Shake
                    it up.
A poem so apathetic
it might give a ****.
Wanting to rap; also
wanting to write --
don't mistake my words
for something tight.

On Turning her up in her Nest with the Plough

Wee, sleekit, cow’rin’, tim’rous beastie,
O what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I *** be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
‘S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin’ wi’ the lave,
And never miss’t!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
Its silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’:
And naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin’
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste
An’ weary winter comin’ fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turned out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft a-gley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promised joy.

Still thou art blest, compared wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But, oh! I backward cast my e’e
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

I barely got to know you; I never even got to hold you,
But, god, I loved you, baby.
To the moon, to the stars, to wherever you now are, I loved you.
And, believe me, I’m far from the only one.

It’s so unfair that we’re down here and you’re up there but you won’t be alone or forgotten. Because not now, not ever, not for one moment will your memory fade.

Cruel ‘what if’s and ‘could have been’s will stick with us too, for time, poignant and painful as such things can be, but don’t doubt for even a second that you, our little warrior, my little Beastie, were worth every moment of joy and heartache a million times over.

I took a shot for you, you know; I’d take a hundred more, a thousand, or however many it took to get the chance to see you look up at me with big blue eyes that remind of simpler times, noonday skies, and warrior cries.

There are chances I wanted, countless memories I wanted to make, a lifetime of stumbles and laughs I’ll forever long to see and hear. But you’re still there, will always be there, even if it’s not the way I thought. Even if it’s not the way it should be, it’s the way it is, and I find solace in the fact that now, at least, you feel no pain. And if we must hurt so you can have peace, well, it’s a price we’re all willing to pay.

Because you, little man, have been so loved in your short time with us, precious and so special, that there isn’t anything in this world or any other we wouldn’t hesitate to do.

Our little warrior, the little boy who conquered everyone he met without need of a smile. The little boy with the heart of a lion, whose fire burned brighter than the stars above. Whose fight touched people and whose life – brief but shining bright – made them stronger

We’ll never forget you, Wyatt.
And, in the time we have between now and when we see you again, may we all try our hardest to have the strength that you did.

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
I *** be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murd'ring pattle!

I'm truly sorry man's dominion,
Has broken nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't!

Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell -
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld!

But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o' mice an 'men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e.
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

It was a chilly June day
when mamá woke me up.
I didn’t remember much
except getting helped into my clothes.

When next I awoke, we were in the car,
driving past dusty mountain trails.
The sand on the side of the road would
        kick up in the air beside us in clouds.

“¡Es hora de levantanse!” screeched my mother
        as I groggily woke up once more.
        The beige and brown of the desert was
        now replaced with greens and blues.
        I knew exactly where we were.

As we shuffled into the bungalow,
I tried to take in all that my young eyes could.
The red tile floors went well with
the cream and burgundy of the bungalow exterior,
and the bunk beds in every room but the master bedroom
made this home away from home all the comfier.

After settling in, mis primos y primas
raced me to the fronton courts —
they were mostly empty — as our rackets
kept clack clack clacking against our legs.
I looked up and marveled at the size of the playing wall
just as Julio served the first round.

For dinner, papá made us all triples —
a Peruvian sandwich made with tomatoes
hardboiled eggs, sliced avocadoes, and mayo
all between two or three breads — and we laughed
the night away while listening to some Beastie Boys.

Mis primos y primas
me levantaron a la misma vez
que el desayuno estuvo listo en la mesa.
Avocados, tamales, mangos, y duraznos
eran suficiente para mi, pero mi pan
                                        francés con huevo frito y leche
                                        chocolatada completaron mis deseos.

        Afterwards, my brothers decided to
start up a game of hearts next to the
                                                outside grill as the Beastie Boys’
Hello Nasty album would blare for the
                                                cholitos to hear. Sometimes they’d
                                                jokingly put on some Britney Spears
                                                or N'Sync, but Barenaked Ladies was
                                                another favorite; as well as the Beatles,
                                                of course.

Hubo una vez un gran rey
que tenia muchas tierras,
un castillo, y tambien un amor.

Later on, I’d go play some pickup
                                        games of futbol and basketball. Maybe
                                        tennis and fronton, too. Then again, I
                                        did frequent the various swimming
                                        pools offered. Too many choices for a
                                        little ****** with more than enough
                                        time on his hands.

Finally, when it was time for bed
I’d think about my amazing weekend.
How time flies when you’re a child,
but at the same time, lazy vacation
days could stretch on forever.
And they always did at home here
in *La Cantuta.

Angel-faced beast

Breathe heavy with *hot embers
Fists facing forward, knuckles white
Silk dipped in milk disguised as skin

How lovely you are in the fall

Burning down where my head may lay
Drag me across the desert landscape
For I am soaked in righteous sin

For you, sweet beastie*

...are my salvation.

I’m still fighting dragons, big scaly beasts.
Some I have vanquished, but some have me beat.
I picked up my armour, my helm and my spear,
From life's many conflicts year upon year.

And boldly some mornings I set out to greet,
These terrible monsters that want me as meat.
Advancing with caution, blood pounds in my ear,
Legs turn to jelly the beastie draws near!

With  deafening roar and spine-chilling haste,
The beast sets towards me intent to lay waste,
To rend and devour, consume and despoil
Leaving nothing but tatters to litter the soil.

Bravely I face it  resolved to subdue,
The evil incarnate  that comes into view.
The battle commences steel meets with claw,
Fearful but stalwart I strike at its maw.

It parries the blow asI fall to the ground,
And claws slash the space where I used to be found.
Now flat on my back I ****** with my blade,
Piercing the hide it attempts to evade.

The point of my weapon now deep in its chest,
Its  claws scrape the rings of my chain mail vest.
Its head twists around and I stare at its eye,
The evil intent there is clear to espy.

Jaws now agape and a lunge at my head,
And teeth whose sole purpose is seeing me dead,
The snap of its jaw almost tears through my craw,
The stink of its breath is the odour of war.

The essence of violence, the stench of decay.
The tincture of suffering the tang of dismay.
I gag at the foulness pervading  the air,
And retch from the pungence that sits with me there.

But I must disavow the prevailing scent,
So girding my ***** i tear and I rent.
I push with my blade driving close to its heart,
And the beast sensing death decides to  impart.

One last token of cruelty and frenzy and ire,
Disgorged from its belly, dragon breath fire!
A torrent of flame it spattered and spewed
Engulfing my armour the pain it imbued.

Like something from hell that hideous heat,
Scorching  my skin with the ache of defeat.
Ignoring the torment I pushed my steel hard,
Driving the spear tip deep into its heart.

Now it lay silent its fury all spent,
I crawled from the carcass in silent lament.
The dragon lay silent St George would be proud,
And I for my part had avoided the shroud.

                                             •  •  •

I woke from my slumber and checked my email,
A message was waiting that made me turn pale.
A dragon had found me, more combat to come,
It was my ex partner, the fight for my son.

I’m still fighting dragons, big scaly beasts,
Some I have vanquished, but some have me beat.
I pick up my armour, my helm and my spear.
I fight as a father to have my son near.
This I've been doing, year after year.



September 2010

Someday I wanna stack neon cowboy boots til they reach the solar system. I wrote Leslie today and she said, "Hey, love is what I got. Remember that." Pennies are x’d out. Cut me Sally. Only 1 apple-tooth *****. But now I realize that that didn’t make any sense. Tell Christina that I work at Arby’s. She told popcorn that we are a portrait of an American toad. Sorry. She won’t talk to me. She hates me now. I know it all. World will end for me under a fallen tree. Confusing is love. Serious, sadly enough Christ is dead *****. That’s my boyfriend! Sad Sad Sad Sad Sad Sad. Let me down. 2288 is a strange………………… number to sell a video for. I smoked *******. RATS, SCROTUMS, YOU’RE A *****! Scoot over you ***** ***. I don’t even know you or *******. Hayley, now that I think of it, is a tight, beautiful, powerful…… I hate her. She has blonde hair and I look way too much. I’ll go shopping now. Tina will hate me for lusting Hayley. So I’ll go on to Mr. G himself. Shazaam! He is in a boy prison where the boys are molested. I cry. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Watch out, I do this to everyone. I love myself only and can drop you without hurting. But I love Christyn. Despite Christina’s rage she is still just a rat in a cage. She does it all! It’s her! She, her, she. Hershey. I love you Christyn and my mom is my dream. I stay alive, maybe rooting for the Green Bay Packers. I want to **** in Grayson’s face. I have to go, my milk is over there. He has lice, but it doesn’t matter cuz he takes his hair off anyway. Colon cleansing for sale! And I got a new girlfriend, she looks a lot like you dear. They pass me up. And if they don’t it’s only cuz I smoke acid(that’s funny). Or I don’t want to have ***. I hate ***. It’s Casie’s fault. I thought it was OURS! I ****** HER, SHE WAS MINE!!!!

Hello ******. My gums are bleeding everywhere cuz I play so much. Why can’t Hayley like me? Why is Christyn faking? Why go home? says Eddie. James is in prison for **** he did. Robert is in prison for stabbing this dude. It’s a good thing that my new cats are gone cuz I’d get hell. Black man is funnier and prettier. I eat Arby’s stacked in my trashcan. Why do they laugh? I’ll just stop now. I’ll **** myself cuz of you. I saw Rachel walking today. She’s sooooo pretty. Untrendy cuz I love her so. No rap, just Beastie Boys and marijuana. I take showers with Stephanie on the side, so don’t be surprised. She cuts underneath her legs. I want to hold her for lifetimes on a mattress of air. This is good ****. Please help. Aye Davinita. I’m not happy without your dreads, Docs, and beautiful…… But Hayley is too. Tell her that. She’ll **** me. I’ll never be enough for her. I’m white. What?! How do I not blow up?! Gotta go **** a monkey. So ****** me soon. Sleep sleep. Hayley, Rachel, Casie, Michelle, I rest in peace now.

he runs across the floor
eight legged little beastie
one of nature's nightmare tools
a necessary evil, clean-up module
I leave him alone, as much right as I
to this lonely landing in moonlight

The house was always empty
Three roads over, two roads back
Never saw a light on
Windows painted black
Fields were always empty
Never saw a sign of life
The gloom that hung around it
You could cut it with a knife

Haunted, yep...it's haunted
Said the people of the house
In fact they always whispered
And were quiet like a mouse
When talking of the cursed place
Just in case the house could hear
You could feel the hair raise on your arms
When ever you were near

Haunted Houses, ghosts and ghouls
They exist and break the rules
I believe, and I'm no fool
in Haunted Houses, ghosts and ghouls

Every year at Halloween
The house is on the news
They film it from a distance though
Because they're shaking in their shoes
For almost ninety years or so
It's been dark and void of light
And somehow it seems darker
On that one October night

Stories fly around the town
Of how children disappear
It's just a nasty rumour
Based on someone's healthy fear
The house is just a building
Nothing going on I see
But, go and knock upon the door
Ask anyone but me

Haunted Houses, ghosts and ghouls
They exist and break the rules
I believe, and I'm no fool
in Haunted Houses, ghosts and ghouls


Even in the daylight hours
The house has people scared
I've never been out there myself
And I've been triple dared
I turned it down and ran away
I'm not afraid to tell
Because the noises coming from the house
Sound like the hounds of hell

I know there's ghosts and beastie things
Living in the place
And every year on Halloween
I'm afraid they'll show their face
I know the stories that they tell
At least half of them are true
I believe in ghosts and ghoulies ....and
I need to know...do you?

wee ribbit, hoppin, daftie beastie
a rebber baind is in tha breastie
thou needs but waindie baindie up
and off tha hop
i *** be laith to rin an chase thee
tha niver stop

wee hoppin freggie tha smal laigs
is baitter spring than sailver stail
but i wud giv ye this advaice:
dinna tak a chance
some think tha laigs a taestie meal
dinna *** ta france

nu laieth flattie en the wa'
laik paice o' paeper gon astra'
nae mair tha hoppin in the aer
sae daft an barmy
the ainly fewture fair thee now
is origami

Keep your fists in the air,
Like the line from my favorite Beastie Boys song, “You’ve gotta fight for your right”
Making sacrificial lambs of your youth
I wish the Dalai Lama would commend you
Young warriors
Keeping your heritage wrapped around the soles of your feet as you march in protest
Crying out for help,
I feel the torment of hypocrisy
I am disgusted,
How can we be so blind?
How can we put our want for economic stability over the extermination of an entire culture?
The Middle Way is no way to go
The 21st century equivalent to the Trail of Tears
The silent “members” of the Chinese society
Fight tooth and nail for the right to speak your language
It is beautiful.

I miss you.
I miss the way your eyes shone when they set on ancient stone.
I miss the cadence of your dusky voice when it spoke to those no one else could see.
I miss the glee that drove you deeper to the past.
I miss all the love you once had to give.
I miss you, my tender wild adventurer.
I love you my vicious beastie.
I wish I could find you once more.
Sit and talk for awhile of all of the things that were felt, of all of the things that were said. Of all of the beautiful traumas and the wonderful scars.
You were beautiful in your poetic misery. In your deep blue aloneness. You were a vision on the shores of the Loch. I wonder now and again where you are. Are you wandering round this globe or are you quite trapped, as I suspect you are. Because sometimes I see you beating on the brown bars of your cell, when I look in the mirror.

Reclusive turtle soloing about its ribcage for one bestie' tendency.

After spent the night in its master's clink full of candelabra with Earthlings, the turtle doesn't want to go to thine torturous awry cotillion where everyone is fumbling for the right words.

It is happier to mate with the bestie while all the misnomers vibrating as if they would penetrate into the soul lucidly. Seeking gratification by every frottage and endless non-penetrative ***, whispering straightforward colloquial language became a morbid fascination.

Beastie frighten and enthralled the turtle with Sigillum Dei like riffs from decades of its polytheistic worship, machinations and machinations of coercive persuasions unlike crowdy psychopathies who pay no heed to propaganda and their mutual ******* provoked by **** star personality taxonomy and *** toy fabrication.

Turtle caused beastie a impairment of memory because of its anonymity and disruption of beliefs.

Falling in love with you like seeing someone else dresses in my skin. What I want to do to you is systematically indoctrinate you through torture techniques.

Knock knock...
Who's there?
It's the fire in your belly,
just checking you're aware...

Hey, you know... I'm still here...
I'm not going anywhere.
It seems I used to be volcanic,
now I  barely singe a hair.

Magmatic in my golden days,
when did I grow dormant?
As you aged you acquiesced,
not living in the moment.

Rekindle my cinders,
your indifference is abhorrent.
You used to fight for your beliefs,
now the white flag is a soaring.

Give me white hot purpose,
give me a voice that roars,
the Beastie Boys fought for their right,
why can't you fight for yours?

You only get one shot,
you chose a pushover to the core?
Don't be the heedless hero,
be an involved...
...*******...
Tyrannosaur.

sunlight tickles me in the jungle-wood
and smoking men and nice girls find me with eyes closed
i am quickly hungry and irate for blunts and breakfast

unnamed purrs drip down my throat
where the fangs sleep
slick scotches skip skillfully sharp
and beastie boys know how to kick it live

This doodling Yankee (boot noah dandy)
doth newt lack chutzpah,
tries to finagle Fitbit fitting figurative footwear,
that ideally Fitzhugh
like custom made glove snugly,
terrifically, unequivocally matching,
thence handily solving Finger hut issue,
when or if arctic blasts cold
doggedly enveloped Gaea,
whence  humans analogously held hostage
linkedin among fellow Earthlings freezing,
frost bitten, gangrenous hominids
scurrying haphazardly searching vainly
from shelter ring sky (with mother's little helper)
each primate scrambling

(as unrepentant, recalcitrant outlier)
once (what seems millenniums ago) livingsocial
jackknifed habitat fractured,
essentially damning Crispr bungled ambition
grist for raconteur spewing sought aide
telling tales amidst the mill by  Ponderosa Pine
drawing a crowd of curious onlookers,
who forewent idling away time structured existence,
thus, nary a clock watcher weathering whims
as mother nature doth channel
capriciously, felicitously,

and indubitably stripped away
bow ring pastime asper watching paint dry
now tis each man, woman and child to
(seeketh dale and hill) to duff fend themselves
whereat mortality will steal immoral majority linkedin
encapsulated, housed, kindled
within luxurious faux existence
capitalistic dreams engendered existence fleeced
devoid of featherbed,

indeed mollycoddled memories
yanked wherein current rank and file
endowing superlative creature comforts
reduce wretched survivors
scant band of bare naked ladies
beastie boys, foo fighters espying counting crows
ready to buzzfeed toe kin **** sapiens

bereft, expunged, faux invincibility kickstarting
learning basic survival skills
forced to rescind twenty first century trappings
shifting paradigm sans primacy
pitting dishabille helpless imps against pearl jam killers
who do not shrink from ethically principled,

but give full reign to selfish callous deleterious foibles,
gruesome harmful indiscretions
sprouting with mushroom rhizome rapidity
ousting the  omnipresently
(well nigh since time immemorial
virtues cultivated, futilely integrated, lending oomph
residentially, scientifically tendering ubiquitous DNA
foisting gabled, heralded, instilled,

justified kneaded love thy neighbor motto
lyft ting in one fell swoop delicately
embroidered, finely graven, heavenly ideals
no more patent leather shoes reflecting up
nor doodling Yankee staking claim to fame
via feathered cap made of macaroni
thus such jingoistic, holistic,
fabric ripped retroactively
ramping atavistic simian base,
thus leveling the playing field.

Beasties in cages.
Dried up minds
conspiring
newfound finds
of old disillusions.
Unknown sorrow
from silent
retributions.
If only these tears
were just dreams
instead of the women,
and little children's,
stabbing schemes.
Lock you up
for another day,
tomorrow's struggles
unending.
Sleep doesn't cure all
of the mockery bending
the very walls of your cage
young beastie.

I can see the ***** glass that is sitting on my sill.
All its moulding contents, look dying, dead or ill.
And the grime along the edge,
Of which seems quite foisty
Seems to be crawling
Closer. Simply just to meet me.  

I can hear the cries of every rotting, little beastie.
Every shout, every whisper. All sung so sweetly.
And the pleas for a saviour
All of which are futile,
Seem to be crawling
Closer. Simply just to meet me.

I can smell the corpses of the dead, old and new.
Soon one day, those corpses could be either me or you.
Then we pray for a saviour,
As Death draws near and close, He
Seems to be crawling
Closer. Simply just to meet me.

I can feel the dust that covers my skin and my clothes.
Although it has not been long, my time is getting old.
As I begin to decay
And my mind is not my own. They
Seem to be crawling
Closer. Simply just to meet me.

I can taste the bitterness from that glass on my sill.
I was wrong, it’s not the contents, but I, who is ill.
Life goes and life comes but He
Remains. Death still walks the Earth.
As it seems to be crawling. Moving.
Surrounding me. Simply just to keep me.