You have been living for a long time
How many,how much do you want?

You give the innocent children poison to eat
Your desire can make the EVIL defeat
You cut out the part of your desire from a
living soul,dont you see the torture is too much
even for  heavenly  creatures.

When will you stop,when will you learn..


(trying to write something about recent incident of utter disaster in Bihar,India where school children
were served poisonous food at lunch.Shame on those who could even think of doing something like this)

The gynecological man is no friend to glaring inequity! The gynecological man shows worldly-wide women  how
to divide 1 chunk of **** into 2 chunks of ****.

Whilst Gandhi homosexed his homosexy **** across India's frontier
white captors shook under the Raj's prohibition of Leffe Blond beer
& proctologic probes, ****** lubes & other buggery-facilitating gear
that made it thrillin' to hang backside-up like a royal navy brigadier
whose furloughs were porked by a toothless, salt-gatherin' mutineer
reliant on the sedition of a Hindu ½-caste, 5th column pamphleteer
with the power to render a beggar from a Bihar Province financiere
in the wink of a pink eye dies a marginal, market-manglin' profiteer
castigated, beleaguered & burked afore burial in Earth's lithosphere
that tricks atop, beneath, under & underneath Indira's sloppy veneer

The lady on the news has a job.

The lady on the news says people die and my father switches the channel.
The government brought back shows  from his childhood ,he says.
Shows about gods that built bridges and fought for their wives, fought because of their wives.
It’s a story he knows even though he grew up in a hut without a TV or an attached bathroom.
It’s a story I know because my grandmother read it to me every night, she didn’t have books or pages woven together -
I am bound to her because of her memory.
My grandmother has learned it from her grandmother and her grandmother died of a disease maybe pneumonia ,could’ve been cholera, who knows? Diseases in the villages of Bihar don’t have names.
They just happen to people and people pass away.
Her fingers quietly press a warning into mine.
Don’t let them name daughters after the wives and mistresses and lovers of gods.
My grandmother thinks injustice taints names that have been wronged.
Her faith tells her that names and bad luck can be reincarnated. Her faith tells her to pray the curses off.
Her prayer will mislead the stench of the curses,
Like a lost boy in the Kumbh Mela-
alone in a fair, tasting his tears.

The lady on the news says people die
And my brother looks at my grandmother with suspicion in his eyes.

Whilst Gandhi homosexed his homosexy **** across India's frontier
white captors shook under the Raj's prohibition of Leffe Blond beer
& proctologic probes, ****** lubes & other buggery-facilitating gear
that made it thrillin' to hang backside-up like a royal navy brigadier
whose furloughs were porked by a toothless, salt-gatherin' mutineer
reliant on the sedition of a Hindu ½-caste, 5th column pamphleteer
with the power to render a beggar from a Bihar Province financiere
in the wink of a pink eye dies a marginal, market-manglin' profiteer
castigated, beleaguered & burked afore burial in Earth's lithosphere
that tricks atop, beneath, under & underneath Indira's sloppy veneer
At a glance the dance pants of Vivian Vance were enhanced by ants
so as to put in a stance of advanced trance manse plants that prance
by ****** chance rants that lance the nuts of *****, slopes & slants
My *** belongs, along with my dead heart, to Anchorage, Nebraska
which is readily contused with the bloodily-bruised Omaha, Alaska
that's praised like Jesus God by tenants, overnight renters & leasers
& Texican-Haitian-barrio rats that spooks derogatorily call greasers
in Aussie hinterlands where flocks of sheep breed with gay fleecers
who flame out at 60 like Liberty Avenue's sick sock-cucking teasers
while they're sockdologizing a crooked clientele of ½-spent geezers
iced plenty for vicious crammin' into Maytag-coffin-model freezers
with a fiercely-frozen frigidity to flummox farting, chronic sneezers
tweezed out hollow sinus-cavity-wise by the rustiest of ol' tweezers
to the degree of dealin' coronaries to ***** Canary Island wheezers
unfit to dredge ditches, sew kites, buy radial tires, dig palm trees or
****** Miss America till she acquiesces without having to seize her