Fat arses are so squeezable, big bums I rather like
So amplify your cellulite, and step up to my mic
Pins may shake and quiver, if I can score a strike
A Fat **** has more stability, to park my mountain bike

You may prefer a slender girl, with a bottom that is sleek
And fatter girls are not for you, or not what you would seek
Some little arses can be cute, but I want that extra cheek
I need some chunky piece of ****, to reach my ****** peak

I don't want a boney lass, who wears a leather mini
A larger girl I'd rather have, than a woman that is skinny
Imagine a great big ****, bulging out from a tight pinny
Bear arses are acceptable, just look at that Pooh Winnie

Size twenty dress would be fine, but better times by four
With Something to grab hold of, that would thrill me even more
Bigger bums and fatter thighs, that take up the whole floor
Squelching fat I would enjoy, I don't want a thin girl cure

Thin sticks maybe preferable, those girls shaped like a rake
Stupid ****** I don't want, or **** that could be fake
Fat ladies have more bounce, and they will never brake
I don't mind some extra skin, that's sweating like Swan Lake

Larger woman are more fun, they have a wetter gape
There's more to love per square inch, WOW what a body shape
Smother me with all you've got, a complete body ****
I wouldn't be like Steve McQueen, and try The Great Escape

I'm interested in BIG thrills, but I don't want silk or lace
It's certainly a worthwhile trip, if it's shoved in the right place
Delving into the unknown, well I'm not sure that's the case
You know exactly what you'll get, with fat arses in your face

A nice thin *** is okay, but sometimes they're quite drab
Even if your figure's slim, I'd want more **** to grab
I'd rather have a bit more fat, which includes dimples and flab
If your offering your fat ****, call me a mini cab

Excursions during twilight hours, to avoid the daylight sun
I prefer to be in stealth, I'll be on the midnight run
It doesn't matter how large you are, even if you weight a ton
Fat arses I will always grab, now wouldn't that be fun

There's nothing wrong with pertness, so this I will announce
But doesn't a nice fat ****, have extra pounds per ounce
With more to grab and more to squeeze, and definitely more bounce
Big cats scratching for more meat, will always make me pounce

If you are not good looking, and you look like a pig
I'll forgo your outward looks, as long as you are big
Bare your *** in front of me, and give me the gig
You can reach your Top Gear, with a helmet like the Stig

With a *** like the Grand Canyon, I wouldn't want to pass
Mammoth mountains of pure fun, as i lay in the grass
A women laid across the world, with a big fat ****
I'd try extreme obesity, if it's open wide and sparse

So take advantage of me, and let your **** end loose
I'm a man who likes em big, without being too obtuse
Use your fat for basting, and I'll give your **** a goose
We could do well with a good game, according to old Bruce

You may like slimmer ladies, but come on now you gents
A bums a *** after all, so stop sitting in the fence
If you would try a fatter ****, you wouldn't be so tense
Don't be a ******* plonker, you know that it makes sense

Thinner lovers may change their mind, and not think fat is vile
It's just a different point of view, depends on your own style
For that deeper piece of crack, I'd go that extra mile
I don't think a fatter ****, is bottom of the pile

Maybe you don't share my views, but there's something I can teach
A plumper *** would be great, that is within your reach
Succulent cheeks that you can grasp, your hands could have one each
Even James gave it a go, because he had a Giant peach

The perspective of a chunky ****, an amazing smile and crack
That's the exciting view you'll get, when your stood round the back
Its great to feel you way around, when everything's pitch black
You'll find it an experience, if you are right on track

A nice *** I wouldn't mind, so come on where's your *****
Bigger cheeks I can't resist, theres no need to get me drunk
I wonder if the girl next door, has some lovely feeling chunk
Enticement is my spice of life, cos I'm not a ******* monk

To like a larger lady, well It's not classed as a sin
Shallow men may only like, a girl that's really thin
Just because our clientele, are not shaped like a pin
Fatter girls have twice to give, it's like loving the same twin

Some fellows might think I'm blind, and need a pair of glasses
You can leave the lights on, cos I don't think fat is classless
Flash your **** at the back door, and you won't get any passes
Tables and sofa's can be used, to display your great fat arses

Some are Platinum,
Some pale yellow,
Some are Gold and fair of face.
Sometimes their choice is questionable
and the tint seems out of place.
Some are babes and some are ******.
It must be in the DNA.
Some use preference by L’Oreal.
Some are straight, others are gay.
Some are called Strawberry Blondes
Some have hair like golden sands.
What each one has in common
Is they dyed at their own hands.

big ***** Judy
had some
i guess you could say
body
image
issues
you could call them
body
issues
there was some
i dunno
in utero
conflict
and she
some how
head butted
her twin brother in the womb
but not in the way you're all
probably
so quick to think of
THINK ABOUT IT
but actually
uhh
don't
think
too much
about it
because it is
in fact
too much
back to Judy
she didn't much like
her patootie
nor did her mother
and nor did
many of the mothers
of others
i don't want to be
too quick
to say
that Judy had "problems"
but sure as ****
sherlock
quick to fit
oh yeah
Judy had
PROBLEMS
she couldn't handle
most of what we call
school
the work
the stress
the this
the that
set to a soundtrack
of shouts and clamors  
from ******* classmates
fatty fatty
boom
ballatti
2 by 4
can't fit through
the kitchen door
really?
um
pardon me
but
what kind of narrow
French
Doors
in what kind of kitchen
are we talking about?
anyway
a stones throw away from that *** ed period
oh ****
let’s talk about her period
Curse of Eve?
**** my ****!
Her in house aggression seemed to say to herself
and naturally
to no one else
returning to that **** but not so much
educational period
it was a nightmare
judy can't help but remember when "it"
suddenly
became
one nasty *** personal pronoun
that only meant "***"
so sadly
on the way to girl scout camp
when judy turned around
to tell the motormouthed ******* in the back seat
to watch their language
because it'll become a crutch
and they'll start
"doing it in school"
all of a sudden
Judy
is some sort of deviant
only because of
"it"
what is
and was it
about being a little bit overweight
that made the boys and girls
treat the little bit
like it was
I dunno
a lot
wrong question
Judes
what is it about
being shy
seemingly vulnerable
and weak
that made the boys and girls
latch on
with unceasing enthusiasm
most people
young ones
especially
are troubled by the same things
that taunted Judy
but most of those others
had
uh
what?
an “outlet”?
**** that
Judy
Judy
JUDY
human beings
are *******
joey
james
johnson
dickshit
who always called you fat and such
is probably shooting ******
into his insignificant toes
or maybe his genitals
hope for the worse
hope it’s his genitals
back in middle school
when everyone thought they were more important
than they actually are
were just as terrified
but ****
they had that ******* “outlet”
unlike  judy
but the new judy
with a lesser but mostly the same patootie
won't worry
and won't dwell on it
because
one day
she's going to satirize the **** out of you numbskulls
enjoy yourself
while you can
because Judy
has already dissolved
into laughter
hardy har har
******
and mimbos
*******
how do you feel now?

Started with selling lollipops out my locker, to pushing stocks, to selling beef with coco buns like Betty croocker. my gang green, a seal team, running schemes, wit; wicked regimes then moved up to the major leagues- with upper decks, up my sleeve. capture your spirit, just to set it free. dark knight, captures white king; wouldn't stop riding me. pawn moves, worth the trouble; it's two easy. Throwing stones, and Sandz castles, these haters tryin to castle me in;  it don't appease me. these drag queens, keep turning there back; showing thier ***;  and tattle tails; like lil sis-sees. these miss-fits couldn't **** wit- me if they came in ultra HD, my Cats 5, and they treating me like I'm Mr. IP, darker the Wesley, I'm stone cold  rocking an Iced-T, your Bud got wiser but it still ain't ******* with D. then grab Kim car dash and-be back by three, send Kanye west, to get Ad vice from me. my marketing skills so nice, I just capitalized. on the lies of our lives, of all three. These dudes the Wizard of Odds,  fake pretend; Wizards of Oz, chasing the Wizard of Gods, reading scripts written by me. I wrap with a cause, like I''m passing the bar, in limbo with these dudes at odds with me. I'll dot their eyes, like Kimbo was training me. Their label-mates ******, in Big T's, liking on their selfies, on sell phones. I'm on roam, in Rome, using Google Chrome to Google Earth, on my eye phone- writing this from the O-zone, so that the people reading this will be like O'No - this dude is cold. I'm opt to much prime, all the timethen phone home- transfer the message, like Otimos prime

Paralyxzations of the worn spandex, still early
Pizza and beer on a comfy couch
And the crunchy old leaves
That decorate the walls of my house
Glimpses of nature in an urban world.
I think a bit, I feel my quads
As they burn with lactic acid pain
That never leaves an athlete in season.
The greasy cheeseboard and brown dried leaves
Reflect the feelings of sweat and drained
Emotions and motivations, sleep is near.
The night is young, but sleep is near.
Parties call to me with voices loud
Over my tired and disabled carcass
The incessant fight between body and mind begins

Why should I venture out into the world?
What is fun if it can come
Only through grinding my *** in someone’s crotch?
Shall I not find the comfort in my bed,
The warmth of blankets that smell like me, or else
The shared cup of tea with roommates and friends
Not the bedroom tussle with muscled men
I am whole within myself.
Climbing trees or dreaming of oceans
Running up hills and conquering waters
All are my fun; my life is full remembering
The past adventures with inebriation and indiscretions  
It is now time for soul and body to heal.

Men in the bars had their inhuman strength
To down the pitchers and pints of beer
Loud mouth ******* who seem so compelling
Move as kings among the tittering ******
Magnificent in their swarthy confidence
Until their blood alcohol level reaches a new high
Creating a beast without inhibitions
Till no doesn’t mean no, but an invitation to come
Shall my voice fail? Or shall it come to be
The voice of a victim? And shall my quads
Have the strength to run, or the foresight to
Begin in a place much friendlier than now
A part of the brain and a part of the heart
And next is the knowledge of things to come
Not the dulled senses of an exhausted drunk.

I say, “But Saturday is my only night
When morning practice is not imminent”
Parties are the basis for college fun; hence my wish
Together with people and dancing and drink
Shall I finally reach the effervescent image.
Although sleep is upon my weary bones,
The path of fun is clearly wrought with dangers, and love.
The triumph of conquest blows the ringing horns
Until my sparkled dress comes down from the hanger
And uggs are rejected for heels of blue
I cause boys to pile orders for beer and ***** tonics
On their max-out cards. I taste the metallic twang
Of future mistakes and regrets.

Velvet box with nothing in.
A saffron hat without a pin.
Pair of shoes that want to win.
An umbrella that turns inside out.
Caught by a gale.
Scream and shouts at broken brolly.
Woman in high heels looks like a dolly.
Way she's walking, looks like a wally.
Irritating like a spot.
A spot that's becoming an irate boil.
Wants your fella.
The poet can tell you.
And she's going to tell her.
Not a chance unless hell freezes over.
No way in hell is she losing her lover.
(c)Livvi

He has etch-a-sketch lines around his eyes
Sitting, leaning, portraying some sort of brash confidence. That he would perhaps get lucky on this
Tuesday
Where the wind blew silently and dew drops slid down the car windows like
silk gliding in the air or petals
splashing, expanding as they thud to the
ground was worn down, perhaps it was the time, or perhaps it was the lack thereof.
She is twirling her hair. I want to
scream WOMAN grow some *****! Sit up straight you
are letting him

Win with your Gucci-knockoff handbag and
blonde blonde hair you are
just like all of the other ****** looking for their
first and last love. Could you please explain
Why you chose to wear THAT on your
first date?

What a Typical
Tu
      es
           da
                 y

When the internet became prevalent
I was enthralled by it-
curious as to what life had to offer
and how everything fit into one box
a ****-load of information in one place
a journey to discovery I never had before
except in books and news stories.
I always stayed up late on my dad's computer
tower below me-
humming, humming as I swayed feet
dangling from the computer chair
I was just a small child.
Age 8-
browsing something called a history
it showed me everything my father did.
I wanted him to be proud of me
so I tried to mock his interests
until I found his ****.
"BIG ***** BLONDES"
"*** GUZZLING *****"
My eyes widened-
I was going to throw up.
I regurgitated the anxiety of my life
onto the computer screen
I became entranced by discovery of the fuckery
keeping tabs on the tabs he had opened.
Age 10-
found my dad was on a dating website for hookups
found his ***** emails to other women
and more ****-
that he paid for.
Building up ammo to throw in his face
until I was awake middle of the night
saw it right in front of mine.
Looking out my bedroom window
two ****** in the hot-tub
one on either side of my mother's husband-
all naked.
I shut my eyes and walked away.
Laid in bed and thought about how
my mother was asleep in the next room.
I would like to think this is the reason for my trust issues.
Why social media scares the **** out of me
because this day and age there's consistent
access to the fuckery-
a window of opportunities.  

My first boyfriend would never let me see his phone
I didn't really want to
but every time I got near it
maybe to check the time
or hand it to him when it rang
he got nervous-
conflicted and anxious.
Tore it away from my hands on multiple occasions
never thought twice,
just thought he was protective of privacy.
He was cheating on me-
with my best friend.
How cliche.

Age I don't know 16.
Met a boy who liked the same music as me-
made me laugh every time we spoke
and I felt like I could finally be myself
but he was inconsistent-
a mind-**** and would go weeks without talking to me.
Then he would treat me like I was his
and invite me out with his friends.
Drunken nights turned to early mornings
leaving and him never texting,
never calling.
It ****** with my mind
I was left confused as he flirted with other girls
on Myspace, then Facebook.
He told me liked me-
I told him I felt the same.
He got drunk-
****** someone else behind my back.
Found out from his friends.
Burnt the **** of his he left at my house.
Always inconsistent.

I had never been anyone's
they always leave when the title becomes me
or they always end up leaving me for another.
I'd like to think that's where my insecurity lies.
Never really been the kind of girl guys like to date-
afraid of commitment even after spending a year with someone
He ****** me-
over, up and good.
He broke my heart too-
didn't even leave me for someone else
he left me to become someone else
so I stood waiting to become something someone enjoyed.
It happened.
Found inconsistency again-
he also liked the same music as me
I'm starting to think that's not such a good thing.
But he showed me I needed to stop thinking so much-
stop looking too into things
and just be myself.
Anxiety wasn't a factor for me with him
only jealousy.
I didn't have to work so hard.
All that really mattered to me was me-
but the inconsistency was too much.
My inconsistency was too much.
Now I am never enough.
I'd like to blame my insecurities on all of that.
Shout at my father in the face and tell him he ruined me
found love only once and it tore me apart.
I'm trying to mend that again-
find it, harness it and be okay with it like I was once.
I'm scared to death I'll never find it again
scared to death of everyone else but myself.
I'm afraid of my own shadow again
because it reminds me of what I have lost.

When I look into the mirror
I see a girl-
A girl who hides behind her skin
I see a girl-
A girl with a look in her eyes
A look of regret
A look of sorrow
A look of a painful experience
I see what you've made me to be
I am a victim of yours
I am the girl they talk about
I am your victim
I am the girl you damaged
I am your victim
You're ******* victim
-
When I look into the mirror
I see nobody
I feel nobody
I hear nobody
When I look into the mirror
I see the fear blazing into my eyes
I feel the masculine of your hands beaming down on me
I hear your muffled groans and audible grunts
I am what you've made me to be
-----
I had a life
I planned a future
I wanted love
I wanted a husband
I wanted children
-
I wanted so **** much but-
I want you,
I want you dead
Buried six feet plus in the **** soiled ground
I want you gone
Banished to hell!
----
When I look into the mirror
I see the outcome of my most horrid nightmare
I feel the bile rising in my throat because you never fail to make me sick-
I fear you
I hate you
I ******* HATE YOU
But you're the only one I can think about.
---
I was raised
I was loved
I loved too
But you took that from me
You took so much from me
Confidence, you took from me
Bluntness, you took from me
Pride, you took from me
I believed in myself
I had faith in myself
But you took that from me
-----
I see you, Often enough
On the streets, selling dope
Riding around, lookin for ******
In my dreams, ****** me again!
You destroyed me, you took my womanhood away
You did this to me!
-
LOOK AT ME!
-
I can't walk outside alone because of you
I avoid alleys because of you
I hide behind tinted sunglasses hoping and praying I don't run into you
--
You changed my life in more ways than you can imagine
I am not the same person I used to be
I am not the same person I was last year
I am not the same person who completed high school
I'm not same person who politely introduced myself to you
I am not the same person my parents knew me as
I- I-... I am nobody
--
All because you took myself from me.

ah... the sparrow is such a beautiful bird, a mandarin bird, only the pope's Samael, the robin, could box the sparrow ugly - i.e. the robin always visits the pope's windowsill to tell him of immanent death.

i never understood why rhetoric (that persuasive art)
should exist outside a courtroom
and in the chamber of the commons - in parliament,
but then you read the law supplement on a thursday
and entertain such facts that:
a. Abe Lincoln was a former lawyer
b. Richie Nixon, also a former lawyer
c. Davy Lollipop George was a solicitor
d. Maggie Stitch-Me-Up Fatty Chi a barrister...
(e. well Tonne Blair was a barrister too)...
it seems natural to them, these peeps export rhetoric
from the one effective "safe space" where rhetoric
matters, adversary and defence,
i don't know why they export rhetoric from
Nepal and throw it into the cauldron of
politics that's Iraq... that's when their conscience
suddenly disappears, magic... abracadabra
and there's Houdini choking when his stomach
was punched in... rhetoric, i believe is best used
to spare lives, like the case of the defence lawyer
Clarence Darrow, the jury found the
African translated into American *not guilty
after he fired a shot at a mob of the Ku Klux ****
inspired mob on his premises...
now that's a truthful utility of rhetoric -
but take a lawyer out of a courtroom and shove
him into the sausage parlour of other
missing ******* condoms, and you have rhetoric
of a different nature... not to spare lives,
but to sacrifice them, like the plea of Hortensia
in 42 BC... incitement to war... many shady investors
in the background... i'm not saying lawyers are bad
people... i'm saying they're no longer people
once they become politico-lawyers... they become
investment brokers for the economics of arms trade...
they suddenly become zombie-like self-mutilating
cannibals... they come in with a brown crop of hair,
they leave their office of power like gorilla silver-backs,
having attired themselves in false-grey wisdom...
Tony and Obama sitting in a tree,
one said Iraq, the other said Arabia in a shopping spree,
well, -ing, numb that ****** ending, i.e. spring.
Tony and Obama sitting in a tree, the latter got
a Nobel peace prize, the former got diplomatic immunity.
so yeah, free speech... not offending people...
i got there just in time, and got out just in time too...
safe-spaces... i can just see the protesting lining up
like blonde ****** wives of billionaires for silicon
implants to live it out in the valley... coyote ug-...
something or other, Satan's Clause: sit on my lee e e lease!
that's how rhetoric becomes a migrating bird, a stork,
summers in Poland and the myth of the European bison,
winters in former Hittite territory or Pharaoh land...
it's dangerous exporting rhetoric from its intended
confinement of the courtroom, and importing it into
a parliamentary chamber, whichever, house of lords
or house of commons... rhetoric exported into a political
realm becomes less a saviour and more a guillotine,
as in: in a courtroom the judge presides with cool calm
precision that people do not step out of line...
but in the political realm Mr. Speaker just jokes about
hushing the banter of insults exchanged by two parties...
the lost privy, and the dirt and smudge of faeces
where once such men would paint their faces with blue woad.

sitting in heavy traffic one day, 4-way stop
radio on, listening to the DJ describe
the excitement of broadcasting live
from a south side *******
between songs
giggly ****** screech in high pitched
dog whistle voices
trying to entice me
into meeting wild red heads
georgous brunettes, ***** blondes
yellow, then red, then slowly traffic
moves on
continuing the maze
blockades block, jackhammers
tear up half the street, change lanes
the heat of asphalt, a constant barrage
of noise
straining, amplifying
I turn a ***** off in mid-squeal
looking around I realize
I had arrived
this was the world of grown-ups
I so desperately longed for in my youth?
no bat mizvah, no tribal rite of passage
but if I'm lucky
I'll make that green light

Britney Spears
The queen of conformity
Heterosexuality
The ****** of ******
Excuse my French I beg
But she is the angel
O death
For many girl starve
Or murderthem selves because of her
She is my most hate celebrity
And people argon poor marylin manson
Tics.

co ma piernik do wiatraka a kóra do pióra?

immortalised mortality: Achilles -
some also quote Zeno on the matter
suggesting that anyone can be involved
in the question of turtle shells:
mortal-ised immortality - meaning
it's democratic, any mortal can think
about it, since there's only one Achilles.

what has a gingerbread to a windmill?
Don Quixote. again:
what has a chicken to a quill?
Nietzsche's handwriting - kura pazurem
a człek igłą.*

but there's a majority of us that think about immortality
seriously, only because he haven't fulfilled an
adequate mortality - we haven't, there are so many
of us that haven't fulfilled mortality to depart with death
with agony, we're just happy it's over,
i end up drinking beer like it's apple juice
on the after taste - we're called the depressive ones,
but still they make money off us -
the fault is the stars, we're not in it -
and why did he drink? the shame, the travesty -
i too wanted to fulfil my mortality to the ****,
convene on naked-concreteness, on bare concrete
and cover it with tar, so that someone might
watch television...

i don't know the result of the referendum,
i woke up early, took two acidic ***** into the bowl
and thought about my mouth spitting venom,
too little, too late,
walked for three beers to balance the metabolism
and walked back, waiting for cat-food to arrive -
nearly sunstroke saying under my breath:
'if you really want to make Wales into Sudan,
go the **** right ahead, book a Disneyland trip
to Florida, for all i care, i'm a Kentucky fried chicken here,
oh no, go ahead, i'm really eager to read your journalistic
attempt to be serious like they were about Watergate,
no, please, no Pelican briefs, just socks... oh come on,
we can't be seriously, we're trailblazing the **** out of
whatever we thought about the penguin continent;
Green Peace? here?! you have to be kidding me,
i have Arabian playboys playing chasers and racers
on real-life Playstations at Knightsbridge, they think
Harrods is the only shop beginning with H in London;
what about Hamleys? i'm sure the playboys and blonde
****** would be better suited to race around Regents
Street... matchbox Ferrari ***** -
i'm not going to be some Sudanese suntan just so
you can jet stream to elsewhere -
i'm guessing they all had ***** when the Reign of Terror
happened, 'cos what i'm seeing right now is a bunch
of eunuchs biting their toenails -
me? no one gave me a firearm to shoot someone
like Napoleon said, i just posed for a portrait;
i'm not into torture, i have a memory of goldfish
reminded of a globular tank, given Newton's explanation
of the curvature of the eye, upside down and all,
i'm goldfish Bob, dubbed 'the all-seeing eye'.
i have to admit, the artists were crude when they
painted Elizabeth I, or anyone prior -
they didn't exactly represent them as human,
humanoid, yes - quasi ****,
i'm Darwin in Tate Britain looking at canvases
and regarding mascara as the new adaptability tactic
for what the Galapagos "Rhodes" colossus turtles took to
over-sizing  and imitating boulders - the art those days
was a Bayeux Tapestry - Shylock after Shylock after
an oversized ***** graffiti inserted somewhere instead
of an arrow piercing a neck - the artists weren't sloppy,
they were simply unkind - i'm shocked that so many
kings took to up-keeping their vanity of rule due
to the sloppy hand of artists painting them as if ******.

This city, man...
This city one BIG icepick, ya here?
Been walkin' round these streets,
trippin' these glass sheets of ice
the past SIX blocks,
*******, man?
not a single cab picks a fool up round here...
Where those bustlin' business men go, huh?
Where that friction now?
What bout those tan-legged,
princess barbies?
their DOGS in their purses,
their cellular phones chatterin' n' ****?
Where those ****** run off at?
They hot at the ***** bars now or somethin'?
HUH?
You know wha man?
**** that.
I walk this way every SINLGE morning,
twenty blocks UP,
twenty blocks the other way...
I'm walkin',
******,
and those buses and cars WAILIN' they horns,
WAILIN',
SHOUTIN' each other
the SECOND the sun starts shinin',
SHOOTIN' heat each other till' darkest of **** night...
That's what I wanna know...
Where those *******
RIGHT NOW.

He went around
and came around, and went around again~
Then he came around, went back around
and came around again.

"What's with all the run-around?"
I asked my breathless friend
"Guess what goes around, will come around
and right up to the end."

"But what's all this you're chasin, then?"
I asked the weary clown~
"Been chasin' all these wimin,
and they've yet to slow me down."

"Who runs this ride, you run beside,
and can't they cut the speed?"
"I have no clue, but maybe you
can jump this thing, and plead."

"One last run around, dear girl
take a ride and wait for me,
it won't be long, enjoy the song,
I'm a sick sorry son of a b."

I hopped aboard his dream machine
where ladies rode the poles
and pushed passed blown out ******
to the room which housed controls.

I peeked inside the window there
and much to my surprise
no one was manning anything
on this carousel of lies.

A sea of lovely lonelies
ride 'The Future' from the past
around again a few more times
our lives are fading fast.

Suddenly he's on the ground
and draggin' on his knees
with sweat upon his forehead,
I said, "*******, LET GO, please."

"One last run around, dear girl,
don't you worry none 'bout me
appreciate your deep concern
I'm a sick sorry son of a b".

Well, it took some major doing
to release his grip of fear
and then I jumped, and bruised and bumped
was finally in the clear.

"we've cashed in all our chips today,
but we'll be back, you see-
you push to run the Future
and I'm a freakin' fool for thee.

We hobbled from the Carn-evil,
my weary friend and me
what goes around will come around
dear God please set us free.

Dear popularity
You think you are so clever
Like the monsters under our bed
Hiding when parents come
Denied by most adults
But the kids know the truth
We feel the pain
Because with you around
The smaller people
Are wallpapers
And the it kids
Are neon logos
Vandalized on our walls
Slowly seeping their
Poison into us
Leaving no room for
Our thoughts
Making us zombies
In our own world
What will become of them
When our walls break down
When they can't feed off us
When we give up
And the bricks crumble
What if one of us
Took off the mask
Tore off our label
Which was planted on our forehead
Without our consent
What if we defied them
And let our light shine
What would we lose
If they took everything
And we realized
Naked
there is nothing
To cover our light
But if we outshine them
Will the world become
Topsy turvy
Will the ****** follow us
Will the world revolve about
The shiniest star
Making them another
Generic mean girl
And ****
There is
No justice in power
No divine being to lead all
And not give in to the darkness
Because the one person
Who could figure out
Who would be smart enough
To take a step back
And see the wall
See our generation
Break out from
Tradition
Would be stupid
To not remember
The pain caused
By the ignorant
Populars
At least
Most are brain dead
And their thoughts only
Stretch as far as their
Appearance
Of what people
Think
But the smart ones
Befriend all
And cleverly
Use them as stepping
Stones to the top
No mercy
If we tore
Off the rotting wallpaper
We would see
All
The dark insides
Of the it kids
The hunger for
revenge in the
Outsiders
And those
Who copy
Who don't feel
Don't think
Would jump off the
Bridge happily
If everyone did
Not interested
In saving their own ***
But then there's the quiet ones
The ones who take
All the **** you throw at
Them
At me
And shape it
Into something beautiful
And when you glimpse
Our power
You befriend us
To take it
But I give it to you
Because in your hands it's ****
But in mine
I can make it gold
I can be the sun
But will I use
My power
For good?
For evil?
Whose side are you on.
Mine
Because I have enough
Self respect
To want to live
Without further
Damage  
And if that means
Not being part of your group
Well so
Be it
I will live
Without you
Pulling me down

shame sits on
my couch
eating a
doughnut
complaining about how
the girls in horror
movies are
always
dumb ******

I can’t remember the
last time
I saw him
but
he looks
good

must have made some
strong woman cry her
heart out

that would make
anybody feel
good

it always amazes
how quickly he moves
in

setting up his cot
near the fire-place,
his toothbrush in
the bathroom, and
taking anything he
wants from the
fridge

not that I do much
to stop him once
he gets in

if he gets in

that’s what I’m good
at

keeping him out

most of the time
I just ignore him

sometimes he doesn’t even
show up

but sometimes he gets in
and I’m in no shape to
play his games
and
so I just lock myself
in my room
while he yells at
the television

oh well,
I think

he’ll leave soon
enough

off to ****
with a weaker soul
or perhaps just
kick a drunk
while he’s
down

The wind cries midnight
church bells chime descent
and in the graveyard
the dead turn over in their beds

In the street of the lonely
street lights flicker
and the fog of despondency
gets momentum and thickens

All here are doomed to stay
lost souls, in limbo
from puppetries with marionettes
to blonde squeaky voiced big *** ******

The wind cries midnight
and to my delight
I leave here soon
so farewell as I say Good Night


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

Loyalty and power,
I gotta take a shower,
My salary’s forgiveness
In history I cower.
Ahem.
The sharpest devils were created in wealth – in wealth
That money power getting bad fa ya health – fo yo health
I climb the lady of liberty
Holding the fire of infamy
**** girl, how tall ya. gotta. be?
How much a man gotta pay for a woman to be free?
If it costs him his life, the debt is paid
For just an hour a day, living death is the wage
I can’t even start about the water we wade
Constituting ignorance, no more to a slave.
I predict the government will feed on your hate
And product your anger to the tricks of the trade.
There’s more to the story,
I’m ****** and poorly,
Ganked and gory,
Just ignore me,
Cents and sore knees, forgetting my name is Jason? Lord, please!
They’re brainwashing with
trumping ******,
jumping ******,
crazy info?
Know what you’re in fo
When you
Turn on the telly, the venue, is
Just another place for kids, welcome,
We’ve got another ****** for your cerebellum,
Gosh!
You’re welcome!
Mosh! Jump up, jump up, and don’t frown, when
They murdered more babies in jars.
Again?
That is if your mother’s in a jam...
When?
I don’t know, half past midnight in the twilight zone,
Which means absolutely nothing when a dog is a bone
Under your house
When you mistake your cat for a mouse.
How many things do I have to get backwards
For you to realize I’m doing math with slick words
Calculating fascination, a concoction, a plantation
Of seeds so small they appear not to exist
Turn the page and out comes a fist
Rattling down the road is canned laughter
Wait up a minute I’m down in the rafters.

One thing I know, one thing I wish for, one thing I would die for
One thing I pray for is that you die a horrible death
I wish … yeah that’s right...It’s just a wish!
If I had the choice to free you or the devil himself
If I had a choice between life and death
A route between heaven and hell… I would sure choose the latter for you
Trust me; I have acknowledged the fact that I am a biological error.
A constant remind of your foolish mistakes. Your own hell I suppose.
You made me make pain a hero, a friend and a **** father you never were.
Death was my mother that I desperately prayed to for her to take me home.
I was desperate for my own peace at my lonely grave
Desperation could not keep up with me; I guess I was beyond the poor thing.
I hope that someday life will serve you as a devil’s dish.
In my own world, in my own fantasy, my own deception of coping with reality, you do exist.
In my own world I am daddy’s little girl, with the pony tails and ****.
I am that girl that waits for you to come back from work.
You exist as a figment of my own imagination when people talk about their families.
I long for your embrace like the Sahara’s desert crave for water.
I long for freedom like a slave. My own emotions crucified me.
I stare down death everyday as though I was staring at you.
I guess the simple truth is that I want to see a friendly face in this empty crowd.
Dear father, I hope they have a special place for you in hell, were you will burn for eternity.
When I needed you, you needed a needle. I cried for you but you cried for some sick *****!
I cried for weeks and months until it hit me; you aren’t worth it.
You missed the first time I walked. The first time I talked. The first time I shined bright.
I bet you are going to run away from your own funeral! That’s what you are good at.
So dear father, wherever you are don’t die yet. You still have to see my success story.
Witness with your own eyes how life ****** you up on a good opportunity.
I hope your bottles, fake *** ****** and more babies keep you warm at night.
I hope a car doesn’t run over you anytime soon.
Abandonment looked at you and ran away; responsibility looked at you and committed suicide.
But do not worry, I am here to stay. Call me your worst nightmare if you must.
When I told the devil my story he quit running hell and went back to heaven.
He felt you deserved it more. You are hell. Can you hear the bell? Your ride is here.
I will give you a ride to your own little grave.  Your little own cave.  
I think if you do get this letter know that this is what the universe calls impartiality.

250 gals and one old guy
Lusting after me and I know why.
I am a Congressman,
I am a Republican,
And they know what that means.
It means big money in my jeans.
Big money for partying hardy
And if the ****** are smarties
They will kiss a lot of fat ***
And never rebuff a single pass
Made at them, no matter how rudely.
They will see it as their womanly duty
To make me feel that I am great
And lick on my head of state
If so ordered, and quickly,
Even if it makes them sickly
Because I am a Congressman,
And also, I am a Republican.
As such, I am special and divine
So there is no societal line
That I should not ever cross
Because I am now the boss
And you people that voted for me
Are the biggest fools in history.

I said you weren't my type.
I just dissed.
You looked like my brother.
So I didn't want another.
A mistake
my heart you would just break.
Real love you can't fake.
I didn't make myself available or saleable.
99.9% of Americans are stupid.
I know Ariel and a part of the 1% that isn't.
America is filled with drug addicts, homeless bums, perverts, ******, nuts, thieves, tramps, cons, ******, pimps, stalkers, greed, sin. ignorant, immoral, bad, cheating and low life people.
Who are liars, sick, mentally deranged, angry, crazy, *******, poor people.
European, English, British, Irish people
seem different, better, hard-working, proper, classy, distinguished, polite, considerate, thoughtful, moral, high class, honest, rich, intelligent, generous, caring, loving, good, modest, straight, wise, home owning, business managing, educated, family valued, sane people who are not corrupt or worldly.
Homebodies, farmers working class, civil, helpful, fearless, strong, nice, friendly and secure.
I hope to know some of them.
Get their luck of love and wealth.
A peaceful, quiet, happy home.
Of family & love & security.
Friends, money, fame, respect, loyalty, trust.
Land, bank, work, food, shelter, & clothes.
Shade from the Sun,
Warmth from the cold
A hand to hold.
Love to share with somebody who will care. Somebody to adore.
Who doesn't make me their *****.
Someone who gives me gifts.
One who doesn't just drift.
A guy who acts with swift.
One who puts me first.
Who never makes me feel the worst.
I want them to be number one.
Someone who's not dumb.
Not just together for the fun.
Not after a few years will be done.
One who will last forever.
One who is clever.
One who doesn't say never.

Ugh* I cannot sleep
I'm not even in wakeful limbo
Why even bother counting sheep
When I have to wake up and deal with mean ******

Ugh my frame tosses and turns
But all I want is to be deadly still
Because I feel the yearning burns
And all I want is a night nurse pill

Ugh my mind still keeps ticking
Dabbling from thought to thought
And my bed sheet won't stop clinging
Until I'm suffocated by the pain it's brought

Ugh it's too dark
But if it was lighter that's even worse
Still the shadows dance clean and stark
And sleep is now a curse

**** it... i'm going to the opera on my borthday!
i'm not working with these ceramic...
herd... erd... whatever the **** they are
with their beautiful hair... wrapped up in napkins:
they should be white!
no! nein! niet! nie!
                           ******* being camel jockeys!
or... like the Bangladeshi... slaves to the Qatari Royal
Family! *******! if you're willing to take it:
take it!

more camel pressure... the **** needs you to investigate
whether it really does... need to take a dump...
******* copper-necks... it actually sounds better
in English than in German... for once! for once!

because of the advent if Islam in Europe,
the northern Crusades are all: hush hush...
   hush: stille mein kind...
not near worth mention!

-------------------------------------------------------­---------

this has truly become a defeating project,
i bit off too much than i could chew...
    even i know this: i've turned into a quasi-novelist:
who will never write any proper dialogue
or for that matter respect the form of a paragraph...

once again, sitting with a whiskey sharpshooter watching
my female Maine **** hunt for little flies
peering into my wardrobe trying to squeeze in...
if it was the male Maine **** he would have had
already jumped into it and coseied himself
on my clothes... while i would curse some other day
that all my clothes have cat fur on them...
i groomed him today... what a sensible little creature...
tail waggling while i cut his nails
   and brushed his coat...

prior to: taking a **** in three turns...
    i don't know: irritable bowel syndrome or something?!
why can't i take one proper **** in a day,
my **** is nagging me...
watching ******* usually helps with
the constipation...
           like today... i've reached that point
in the month where i'm thinking about revisiting Khedra
in the brothel...
look at me... monogomous: even when it comes
to prostitutes... because she really is an amnesia ****:
she made me completely forget Ilona...
i thought i'd never find a **** this good...
     lucky for me... she's even better...

she makes those nymphomaniac sounds when
performing *******: it's a cross between a baby *******
on a *** and someone enjoying a bowl of pasta...
and it really dawned on me... 2nd take on the throne
of thrones i was watching this
video: bootyass girl (201K subscribers) -
the video itself has over 2 millions views... on xvideos.com,
sure... i ****** off... but like i already said:
i'm jerking off without the ******...
                  
   mein gott! what a beached whale!
                visually unappealing... well... up to a point...
3rd take on the throne of thrones and i knew it would
be the last... again: checking the "plumbing"...
but this time: sound on...
    O......                                   oh...
oh... now i get it...
                                she might look like a beached whale...
but turn the sound on... **** me...
men are these supposed visual creatures?!
Beethoven was too, wasn't he?
              no no... if a beached whale of a woman
makes sounds like that during ***...
i.e. she is a polypohny of onomatopoeias
    / an inverted Katakana... i.e. whereas the Samurai
can write MA... they can't write AM... ** but not OH...
  well... that was that... ******* at the thumb shoved
into her mouth while her partner is ******* a leather
couch: by the sound of the "echo" coming from her ****-cheeks...
shhhhhh it... ooze... just managed to squeeze it out...
FINALLY!
    again... no ******... get a hard-on... relax the ****...
don't ask me how i figured this one enigma out...
trial & error... to hell with laxatives...

                      i'm gearing up...

but my day was way more interesting than merely this...
i did wake up at 6am... stayed in bed until 8am
listening to music... because you sometimes have to...
errands...
         sort out a hire for a KANGO...
which is construction industry "slang" for...
    pneumatic drill... jackhammer...
at the hire shop a guy probably younger than me
knew what i was talking about...
     with a glee of approval... his father must have worked
in times when you used to say the word KANGO...
one of those proper ones...
two handed... posted the picture on facebook...
i mean: it's such a neat toy... felt chuffed wheeling it back
home and then on the bus...
   had these two concrete buffs irritation where once
two greenhouses stood... need to get rid of them...
set down drainage... 2 tonnes of soil and grass...
nothing but grass...

     KANGO: i didn't even know it before i checked it out...
the etymology: literally Chinese language...
カンゴ
                   but otherwise in the construction industry
a jackhammer, a pneumatic jackhammer...
what a lovely beast... the best *** i've seen in a while...
made me think of that quote from Full Metal Jacket:
anything by Gunnery Sgt. Hartman -
or that Combichrist song: this is my rifle...
seriously... i don't care what they say:
the Vietnam War had the best soundtrack...
   no other war in the history of man had such a goo...
******* amazing soundtrack...

who wouldn't be happy working a pneumatic drill hammer...
two handed... lifting rock... concrete...
i'm happy... i've already mentioned it:
work ennobles (physical work)...
    a lesson learned when it was taught by the Nazis
to the Polacks in Auschwitz...
what was once arbeit macht frei
has become... arbeit adelt!
                                  simple, no? to learn from once
former conquerors... and to redefine that... "silly"
ol' joke that's particular to German sensibilities...
moving bags of rock from point X to point Y
and then from point Y to point X...
       like they couldn't have turned concentration camps
into something useful... but... them being concentration camps...
seriously... they were lazy at mass ******...
if they were so ******* efficient in other areas of
warfare... they weren't particularly good at their
initial plans...

oh right: that's the ****** sense of humour...
laughing about the Nazis... i almost forget where i'm placed
in this world... all that need for theatre...
to ensure panic was kept under a lid...
     the Mongols were more effective at mass ******...
genocide... hell i bet the Ugandans had a better track
record...

finally! i'm coming the end of my note taking...
it only took me four days and five nights
to get enough drink in my to spew this crap out...

but i'm getting there...
   i don't fear Islam...
             i'm  huge fan of Rumi:
what remains after nothing?
    love is the flame which, when it blazes
consumes everything other than the Beloved.
the lover wields the sword of nothingness,
in order to dispatch all but God:
consider what remains after Nothing;
there remains but God: ll the rest is gone.
Praise to you, O mighty Love,
destroyer of all other "gods"...

    la illaha il Allah... there are not gods but God
(qu'ran 3:62)...
   i wrote that into the back of the book
by Bukowski when i first came across him in Glasgow...
all those years ago...
la illaha il Allah...
    funny side-story... the term God in Maltese?
it's actually Allah...
   i tend to write something akin to: all?! ah!
i'm not Islamophohic... but... i can understand where
arachnophobia comes from:
but Islam isn't a spider...
             i just don't understand the inverted logic
of Muslims bewildered that there is an Islamophobia...
why be surprised?
i'm pretty ******* sure that Russophobia existed
long before Islamophobia...

   but unlike all the other phobias on the list....
these two phobias are... calculated...
they're not irrational...
why? why aren't they irrational?
does a spider think? i'm pretty ******* sure
a Muslim or a Russian is capable of thought...
but does a spider think?
does an elevator think? a constrained space...
that claustrophobia... does a spider think?!
what's the problem?
arachnophobia is a reflexive-phobia...
Islamophobia is a reflective-phobia...
                          
but what's the difference between fearing Russians
and fearing Muslims?
the Russians already know they're the evil genuises
of this world...
it's nothing new...
         Muslims... the ones i'm working with?
are they seriously planning a takeover...
what... with these cabbage-heads?!
   these retards?! these, retards?!
                 yeah... good luck...
you might get a chance to wind the clocks back one
hour come the winter months...
but that's about it...
            half of which never read a verse of Rumi
or Omar Khayyam...
                      
the women look so petilent... dark clad...
you could at least attire them in linen and make the linen
grey... or white...
there was a time when Islam was superiror to Christianity...
those days are long gone... gone with the camel jockeys...
inbreeding is the currency and the joke...
i'll respect the Iranians...
  because... they were Persians prior to the camel jockey
invasion from Arabia...
and the Turks... because... we're sort of related...
Caucasian... or Mongol-esque...
ancient Turks had their runes... and Turks have very edible food...
while Turkish prostitutes **** like there's no
tomorrow...
i need a second Islamic schism: spearheaded by
the Turks...
leave these Arabs with their Pakistani pawns
to play into that caliphate Sunni game...
Islam needs to splinter... there needs to be a second schism...
spearheaded by the Turks...
the Turks teaed as far up as Vienna from what i know...
leave the Saudi princes and their fetishes alone:

god will judge them...
        princes of the pink ponies and blonde ******...
down the Spartan route...
i'm not Islamophobic... i'm like a tapeworm when it comes
to Islam... ooh... this fasting idea... i could use that...
not for religious reasons... like i once explained...
you know what fasting does for me?
increases my concentration...
                               i like fasting...
i like thinking about food... because?! personally?!
thinking about anything beside food is sort
of boring... i like to be closest to the wild animal...
and what does the wild animal ever "think" about
if not food?! or biting off its limps if
it were to be caught in a beaar trap?!

right... right? what about...
a Germpophil?
                        
heil dir im siegerkranz:
what a little unkept "secret"....

strange body: overgrowth of muscle having
muscle removed from the shoulder blade,
Armilius,
                           i miight as well have a crow
perched...
                 muscle movement from that lacking
in the shouder-blade... just above the collr  one...
once i stress its existence.

whiske! whiskey! more whiskey!
the sun illuminating the governance of spring
can't ever overshadow the moon,
come the same season

genügend ist genügend!
     das ist alles!
                    nachweisen-in-dem-pudding.

We ran out of places to colonize, so
Now the capitalist are after our time
Though your mind might not realize yet, our
Attention has been commodified

All these fans around me but only you, see
That eyes are as good as gold nowadays, please
Check out the newest subscription released
So I can feed my kids and escape the freeze

****** and incels fighting over bucks and *****
But free videos take advantage of ***** and
Strippers prefer cold polls to ***** cause we
All gotta clock in sucker, ***** to ****, so

We scam each other hoping to get ahead
Scheming over the same table we broke bread
Together in public we feed on street cred, but the
He said she said won't put a roof over your head

So better get famous *****, let everyone know
Your business is going swell, gonna buy some blow
Gonna sell some ****, make a scene, then go
Do anything you can to keep them eyes on you.

squeak my little mice, squeal my feline friends: the rats are coming.*

you really picked the wrong kind of enemy,
one that finds your sense of humour
endearing,
and a sense of humour
    that's both endearing,
                        and easily overturned;
the rat populace said so:
             you have no veto,
that sort of privilege is left to the people
with enough political integrity
to not take to jogging
     in the morning, as those blonde
chewbacca ****** take to,
outthinking the stability of the dover
cliffs, with some sort of masterplan
of the mexican wall...
  how about you blow up the channel
tunnel first?!

and i saw, four figures of fire rise up
and transverse the night sky...
     to reiterate: i'm used to seeing wandering
stars... that's almost usual for me...
to reiterate:
    if i'm originally writing in English...
i have to go back, to the zeppelins...
und ich gesehen, vier zahlen aufgehen
und querlaufend der nachthimmel!
mein gott! ich war rechts!
                                  der zeit ist reif!

of the 3Ps i once cited: priests psychiatrists & prostitutes, there's also a 4th P... poets? then again, i'm not too sure, too much soapy-water, too much cuddle-fiddling going around, not enough gusto akin to Julian Tuwim, Witkacy, Dante or Giuseppe Belli... i mean, go for it, go see a priest, see what he tells you: repent! some ******* solipsistic mea culpa - only you exist! it's all your fault... right... everyone else is ******* blameless?! go see a psychiatrist... if they don't prescribe you regression - i.e. want to implant you with false memories, they'll prescribe you the sort of drugs that make you wet your bed at night! or **** you out, out of a yin-yang... zombie! oi oi! ZOM-BIE! i.e. EE! alternatively... go and see a *******... if you ever thought you had erectile-dysfunction... go and see a *******... never fails... well... it fails when you've drunk too much and she's being an overtly timid little *****: but even then you cuddle and share tongues... what's eyes in Romanian? what's freckles in Romanian? what's nose in Romanian? then you exit the brothel, get on your bike and scream like a werewolf all the way home, harking, grunting, ******* at yourself for drinking too much... but you still exit the brothel like a gentleman: in their own words... you kiss two on the hand and the one you just spent an hour with on the forehead... then you go back again and ask for the Turkish girl that was so eager to sleep with you... this time you go sober... turns out she's a nymphomaniac and you're into that sort of ****... wholesome stuff... nothing ****-funny... none of that Dubai crap... wholesome... oral *** without a ****** and then all that protection while she talks something funny while you try not to speak a word: word... who needs god in the bedroom? elevation of animal noises just won't do? all this talk during *** is a ******* turn-off...

             che bber ttruttrù! oh ddio mio che cciammellona!
   e ppoi sc'è la bbebbella e la bbobbóna!

like the men who put women on a peddle-stool,
this idea that: women are unable to ****...
or some Cinderella *******, i have the same problem
with the English, the people,
i don't know why... i always seem to envision then
as these ideal people... well... concerning what
they say: you'd think so...
perhaps not the people per se:
rather the society they have envisioned...
well... so much for the society they envisioned...
where's the best part at?
where?! 10 Downing St., there's where!
that's going to be a running joke for, some, time...
it's not that i even care...
it started to turn foggy, "all of a sudden"...
you know how fog looks like in the night?
like... someone breathed a breath of milk
powder into the atmosphere:
the street lights are visible, the moon is...
but people are less and less: visible because...
they tell big-little-truth: which are lies...
it's not the sort of lies associated with..
why would my supervisor send me
a sample of her fruit cake... white lie: oh... great
baking technique... like **** it was...
whenever having *** i always found it
suspicious that a woman might get pleasured
from the *******...
whenever it happened to me with prostitutes:
i still wouldn't believe them...
i would be met with scolding: OW...
yeah: they couldn't believe it either...
they couldn't believe that being authentically pleasured
i didn't buy into them being pleasured...
hey, weird as the world is... enough said...
so my supervisor sends me her take on
a fruit cake... oh **** me it's sweet...
it's so sweet it's like the antithesis of *******
a lemon... i mean... even though *******
a lemon is not exactly cringe... but a lemon
is a sweet-acidity... this load of *******
it is just SWEET...
i have to brew myself a cup of coffee
and not sweeten it just in order to... to...
recreate a concept of palette for my numbed tongue...
it's terrible: women can bake worth of ****
these days...
it's too sweet... i rather **** a lemon...
alright, here's to the plunge...
what are we working with...
two *****... *****?!
if there are two women... trying to look
unattractive... oh **** on me...
we even don the same haircuts... but i have the beard:
they don't...
i'd still... you know... do some plumping...
male sure something is working, correctly:
you read is correctly:
MALE SURE... no... not "MAKE SURE"...

are these women supposed to have invisible sniffer
dogs around them, does it take having 5 children
to say: mmm... something is scented "funny"...
*****... for starters...
and that's like... normal... for the woman to
sniff you? sure, the compliment is great:
oh, you smell good...
           so does a fresh paintjob on a pristine looking
bathroom, but who am i to brag?
and it's like the most basic job:
lowest i.q. threshold imaginable...

i can say, i look the part... why do i look the part?
is some ******* **** going to stop me
taking a pint of beer to an area where i'm not allowed to take it...
or will some 6ft2 bloke...
donning a pristine coat... affirmatively pedantic
in questioning his attire... stop... 6 lads...
from doing likewise... because... i look the part?
because i'm a male and... ahem: "i'm entitled to being
entitled to the entitlement of being entitled of
being in a functioning role whereby i'm not given
leeway?!
optics... no one is going to take a woman seriously
in a position of a steward... even if she tries to pull it off
as a ******* ****... sorry, no...

reality tends to bite back...
even Brandon... oh my mother knows Brandon,
he works the Romford Blue Sapphire gym...
we talked about dogs... about him being abused about
the public, me trying to explain to him that:
he too has a breaking point... imagine that:
you going off a tangent...
see... this is what bothers me about the English...
Brandon says he's a home... manager...
some sort of manager... that he lives with his girlfriend...
i message me mumz and she clarifies...
he's not a manager... he's a senior receptionist...
he lives with his girlfriend... hmm... he might have
a girlfriend, but he probably lives with his parents...

status, hierarchy...
****'s sake... he says he's a manger of a gym, house, manager...
yet he... works added hours as a steward at sport events...
or the second girl that sniffed me up:
because i'm all ******* fine for being sniffed...
she apparently has a private... personal? huh?
business... oh... she just does this **** on the side...
right... 5 kids in...
you know the advantage of not being famous...
you can sort out a lot of ******* among your coworkers...

oh **** me, the atmosphere is great...
Emma loves pythons... you feed them... frozen, mice?
interesting... so they wouldn't eat anything
that's already killed, they need to be under the illusion
of having killed something?! wow...
imagine... living without eyelids... blah blah...
she's almost like this scary feminist blue-tinged hair fairy...
but...
oh my god... if no one's looking...
and i look at her earlobes... no... come to think of it...
if i just look at her ears... yeah: but me writing about this
is not exactly me telling her during hours of work...
oh you smell nice... counter-*******-productive
if you ask me... why? because now i'm thinking about *******
you!

the most ****** parts of a woman... her hands...
why? because if i were she were we were to hold
my ******* emblem... i'd ask myself to be rid
of the pinky finger & the 4th knuckle...
a woman's ears! it's like... itchy... itchy... smooth...
smooth... ears, hands... chin... neck's pleasure-dome
of tenderness... wild eyes!

and you know what: i watch these grown men
"indocrininate" their offspring into either
a support of a football team,
localised prejudices, yet those "disappear" when
support for the / a national teams surfaces...

hey, so much for pork eating
when you're Muslim and cousin *******...
i guess eating pork must be as much
confusing as cousin-*******, no?!
i guess pork-bad = ******-bad!
**** them, these ****** specimens...
who's going to care for them?
is Romania the only option?

        ****** riddled i.q. starvation oops...
how do you write oops in the plural?
as much as i might be discriminated to
eating pork, where does most of leather come from?
shoes? PIG... belt... PIG...
sorry... "cousin": you're about to **** your
grandmother's sister... or whatever happens
in Pakistan...

sinister taunt... how else to combat these
audacious suicide-bombers...
shame their ****** culture origins...
keep them there... they better settle for being there...
aww.... look at that...
only today... a Pakistani mother, daughter & grandma...
the daughter... all sort of fiddly... sort of weird...
to tongue out... trying to lick the grandmother's tongue...
even my cat doesn't do that...

eating pork is bad...
right... while god created all that's good...
god created cumin! turmeric! ******* ****** camel-jockeys....
right... cousin-******* is somehow divinely inspired?!
******* to Dubai... ******* to where there's no "racism" /
slavery invited by the Arabs using up Bangladeshi flesh...

OI! ARAB! COUGH UP! YOUR RIDDLE OF KFC!
power, supposed power... now... a joke; always
the little people, one litre of whiskey will always make you a convert, given, that you get to see so many zombies from the mere experience of ingesting a pint, two pints, three pints of beer...

with me? you need to play a longer game.

- are they still going on about the war of words?
here's a new one i learned...
i believe that onions are the only plants in existence
that have consciousness - or rather:
are receptive of pain...
you chop down a tree... eh... not much...
perhaps a splinter under your nail...
given, in light of debate, ahem "debate" in Parliament
concerning the ethical way of killing lobsters...
boiling the: B'ah BAD...
but freezing them etc.: not so B'ah BAD...
i once dated a girl who found it funny that
in her childhood she would pour salt on snails...
i accidently step on a snail in the dark
in the garden i hear a crunch in my heart...
sorry, mate... didn't see you coming...
it's like this one time - thinking about it still
gives me a pseudo-PTSD...
Poland: where else? walking alone, "somewhere"...
i come across these two boys (i am also a boy
at that time) - oh... so what are you up to?
the reply? **** me...
oh... we caught this frog, we're smearing it
with lipstick then we're going to set it alight...

erm... o.k... see you later Jeffrey & Henry H...
******* Major Major, whatever...
o.k. that i'm not a presbyterian: shoot me...
give me a raw herring in a yoghurt sauce and i'll
tell you to stuff, your cosmopolitan sushi up
your ******* ***!
there, said it, no turning back...
    i'm done, with people, telling me what i can and
can't say... but killing animals in an unnecessary manner:
that's beneath even me enjoying
a few poultry abortions on toast...
a toasted bagel... with some cream cheese...
some raw smoked salmon (is it cooked if it's only
smoked?) some dill and... mmm... a squeeze of lemon...
beats a cucumber every single time...
curing... funny that... you pour some acid
on a sea protein and it starts a cooking process...
that's ******* weird...
it's "unconsciously" receptive of the cooking process:
to heat... via an acid...

right, right... that new word...
        syn-propanethial-S-oxide... said the cis-man...
that's the **** that onions release when you
cut them... which makes you cry...
ergo? you think that perhaps onions are receptive
of pain? should we have a Parliament debate akin
to lobsters regarding how one might prepare onions?!
i think we should... also... a debate about
eating oysters... after all: invasion of privacy:
peering into those shells... don't you think?

- sure, but if i were to do it... oh, something smells "funny"...
not good, at first, just funny...
she wanders with her eyes then focuses on my neck
draws in and sniffs it... oh... it's you... you smell good...
yeah... i do that... but in a brothel...
once i've paid to pass the paywall...
i take her hair in my hands and sniff it...
because she's lying next to me, naked...
and i'm naked it... but i don't ******* follow it up
with any words: i'm already intoxicated
by the scent...

if a man were to sniff up a woman - in public, or better still...
in a professional environment...
and these are the same women who get confused when
they are abused by drunk and disorderly lads
at a football match... like Louis XIV said:
perception is everything... for ****'s sake:
if you don't look the part... a hungry *** starved
yet still a beaming with joy angry gorilla...
you're not going to get away with much...
not in that sort of scenario...

a quest for double-think: my new motto is...
YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME THE TRUTH,
JUST DON'T LIE...
what's the middle ground? this supposed house
manager (ahem, elder receptionist) -
well... we ended up talking about him
petting a dog... an american pit bull terrier...
but he called it by some other name...
where he walked: Raphael Park, eh?

oh the nights spent with dangerous ladies...
loved every minute...
the only place where i can: breathe me...
and breathe them...
where i don't have to be ignored, displaced...
******* of a man...
esp. among Romanian or Turkic women...
to hell with those overrated blonde ******...
give me Tuba Büyüküstün and i'll give you
the ******* Taj Mahal... eh... some prostitutes are
just worn beauties... you rub them the right way
some sort of Genie ends up appearing...
usually: grr... viciously... wild-eyed...
anyway... none of them could ever get in between
my affair with Fraulein Bernstein (whiskey)...
it sort of *****... but life's life... and death's death...
no point making complaints...
ooh... **** me... all that raven hair... and Turkic...
recipe for disaster...
why? well... because she's not exactly copper-skinned...
she doesn't look like she has a pernament suntan...
like the Raj girls from... wherever Delhi is...
(I know where Delhi is! for, ****'s sake!)

if we're being so adamant in living in a post-racial
society, surely i can pick and be fickle about
my sort of potential cocktail of genes, no?
does it always have to be about black on white,
or white on black... can i... hmm...
i'd like something more curious... again:
can i stick with the Turkic women?
i fancy that depth of a shared history...
the Ottoman Empire knocking on the door
of Europe (even though the Greeks cucked)
at Vienna... the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth replying...
while being back-stabbed by the...
Prussians... Russians... Swedes...

o.k. i tried being extra special and slept with...
two black girls... not that i greatly enjoyed it...
o.k. i enjoyed ******* one...
but the other one gave me the creeps...
how, can, i, ****, a woman,
when... she has two children sleeping in the room...
she drags them out of bed...
forces them to sleep on the floor while i'm
THEN supposed to do, what?!
**** her?! she probably had *** since she
started to fake having a ******... instead ensuring
her inner thighs were tight enough...
or whatever the **** was happening...
i just asked her: can i sleep here tonight...
she agreed... i woke up in the middle of the night
while little afro Jerome was standing at the foot
of the bed ******* at a makeshift ****...
so i grabbed him and placed him on my chest...
the end...

*** is ugly... unless it's with a *******...
in a brothel...
   come to think of it... since: i'm always drinking
when i'm writing...
the more i drink the more i wake up...
i was going to suggest: the more i sober up...
no, the more i drink the more i wake up...
but i'm not of the "woke" brigade...
i'm of the SLEPT brigade...
    waking is for the people who are still somewhat
sleeping... or... rather... awake in a zombie-state
of consciousness, mantra-riddled *******...
what could get me drunk?
if i were drinking... as always...
a good conversation... i'm a sucker for a good conversation
like i'm a sucker for pop music when i'm sober...
AQUA: TURN BACK TIME... anything
by ROXETTE...

- and as it happens at every football match i steward,
i see a dad with his younglings...
sure... that could have been me,
but, my psychotic trip: exit at the age of 21...
sort of sorted my future affairs for me,
perhaps i wrote in my 20s... something or other...
but i wasn't really there: or here...

   i get really jealous when i see a guy with a pretty girl,
or when i see four or five guys, friends...
then again: i hate companionship,
i prefer the presence of animals...
    dogs i can almost stand if i don't require them
to be put on a leash... on a leech of authority...
i can stand objective language as long
as it is prescribing me authoritative pointers...
but objective narration bores the hell out of me...
it's so... so... unimaginative...
if objective narratives were a women
i'd call them a stuck-up-***** fakery
of a flaky "******"...

                             while Pearl Jam became
what Nirvana could never become... grunge-dad-rock...
i don't mind... i truly don't mind... after seeing
enough faces you start thinking along
the categories of: TO PREVENT A SECOND HILLSBOROUGH,
TO PREVENT A SECOND HILLSBOROUGH...

seeing so many people i sometimes start
thinking about working in a slaughterhouse  -
then again, to seem less psychopathic
i think about the people working in slaughterhouses...
it's not fair that i... wait... i'm not getting paid
for this... well if it's free: then i suppose anything goes,
right?
          
    oh what could have been...
oh sure sure, it's great... getting sniffed up by women
in their 30s with 5 children in tow
thinking they are single and childles...
white knight anywhere, anyone?! no? keep sniffing...
darling... and it was this running joke...
*** habits came up... one blue haired freak of a girl
that keeps snakes: some 3ft long, pythons...
she said darling but i forgot to lip-read her
mishearing: daddy... i've been called DAD before...
don't ask why...

i morphed Darling into Daddy... for the whole *******
shift she kept nagging me...
Daddy... this... Daddy that...
o.k. with a 7  year old i could understand...
i could cuddle a toddler... do all that mother-goose ****...
she or he could pull my beard... ;oke my eye out...
i don't do friends, i i don't do dates...
i do prostitutes, i do whiskey,
i do forests at night, i do graveyards at night...
i do German thinking...
  i might come across as autistic or as an imbecile...
but i think the same of you...

how unfortunate to have children of your own...
esp. girls... how unfortunate...
imagine the distaste in your mouth at being called
a father at some point... then again: the same goes for having
a son... it's a nice idea... a very nice idea...
but i'm here not on some ******* mea culpa
clause... i've reached my prime and i wasn't selected
for the replica... it doesn't bother me in that:
i always had a melancholic disposition...
given that i'm ageing... i have acquired a melancholic
sense of self-deprecating humour....
i'll sooner commit suicide than die the death of
"loneliness"...

   it will most certainly be a pristine night...
cloudless... with a full moon!

what's that counter argument i keep hering?
what's that? i said: WHAT'S THAT?!
oh you know that ******* yin-yang masculinity
undermined. that we should all be *******
farmers: not enough coliseums...
plenty of vegan hot-spots though...
love, my ***..

   personally i don't know how white girls ****
all these african boys... for me, ******* a black
girl is sort... sort of crippling...
anything beside something Caucasian...
in the raven hair category... i'll sooner *******
to Asia than i'll acknowledge to ever
coming from Africa... the Somali inbreds
**** me off the most: listen, curly-braids!
you're not here to be paid to watch the football match!
why isn't anyone paid to watch a football match!

once upon a time they were known as the Yanks...
the Yankees... these days? oh, you know...
these days some of us just call them the WANKEES...
the WANKS... cuck-barons of the world..
yeah, i once had respect for these people...
it's sort of waning day in, day out...

but if i'm expected to fight someone else's fight...
these days i'm going to say: no thank you...
i'm already gearing up myself to marry death...
how's that?! of course i can see the little people,
of course i love animals as much as i love children...
they're one and the same to me...
personally... and i'm seriously disorientated
by fraulein bernstein... eternity?!

Abraham! oi!
    an eternity spent among children...
or... with 72 virgins... your take...
         oh no no no...
i'm not taking these *******,
these supposed virgins anywhere...
i'm taking the children... throw in 72 rottweilers
if you're at it... i know time well spent...
but knowing my luck... i'll be bound to a hell
where women sniff my hair, or my neck...
even though i'm not exactly anything to peer at...

why are these Indian women looking at me oh
so funny? i'm not rich, what?! am i funny?!
then again, working around the Turkic manifesto of
a woman's beauty... some of these Raj girls give
me a hard-on like not other... they have eyes that tease...
white girls' eyes are all anti-racist: seek *******
zombie...

white girls are currently only available for black boys
given white girls' anti-racist "trauma"...
so here's to building up a New Brazil!
   yeah.... that's also called me looking elsewhere...
oh, no, not for commitment...
   for the sake of it!
anorexic bleached hair... in need of psychiatric help...
or otherwise beached-whale types...
feminists with pink hair... can... ha ha... CAN i say NO?!
or do i have to?!

ich bin verheiratet zu die nacht und nicht(s)!
ich! allein! bin!
was ein...ziemlich.... gesicht...
from time to time... Saxony?!

z-mooth ah smoochies... and... a "blah"...
what was written in hell: by hell,
must return to hell... please... no tenderness, here,,,,

There are no current job openings.

The Foundation
is an equal opportunity employer
and employs personnel
without regards to race
to include but not limited to
spics ****** chinks white trash, jews, ginnies,
whateva the ****
red, black, white, yellow, brown
children or old *****,
prego's
uneducated mongrels
dead beats
god pimping religious fanatic's
bad breath bloviators
**** gob nymphos
cross dressing ***** bag *****
death addicts
frauds
**** suckers,
posers
***** lickers
annul *****
big ****** *******
alcoholics
gore ******
shallow ******
gender bending militant lesbians
drug addicts
stuck up snobs
grave yard enthusiasts
toilet slaves
homophobes
bad rhythm racist
serial killers
rakes
broken hearted ***** willows
twinks , girl boy, boy girl

its complicated
you ******* potatoes

national origin,
veteran status,
Absent Without Leave
proud *****
polygamists'  
*** criminals
sociopaths
***** fetish stoners
educated past your intelligence
tax evaders
amputees
Satanists
cannibals
dumb *****
dopers
eroto-asphyxiators
***** toys
vampire's
necro **** sniffers
bible belting ******* quacks
lazy mother *******
dweebs
horror ******
satanic trans upside down banana splits
and those who pray
in the temples of normalcy

or any other bases
protected by law.

litany of the Church of the Ecstatic Coma
I was playing pinkie dinkie
with next door Suzie Woozy
her father was a CIA spy catcher
with a big spy catcher mitt
try not to leave town he warned
you are someone's project
come here Sweetchops she coos
you get your molasses rubdown today
I sizzled like a Siberian shashlik
skewered with the awe in awkward
their witchy priestess had smoked me out
her tongue slid down to my sternum
the boys from Central Scanning drooling again
going all area focus on the ****** pixels
her teats were wheels of fortune
I had no choice but to place my bet
You're quite attractive I lied
I've heard it before she lied
at that point it could go either way
what else can you show me she teased
having hesitated too long I went for the guts
I wanted take out she wanted road ****
let's do it daddy-o she tugged
and plunged a foot of sharpened rebar
into my 3rd eye
this is your song she hissed
her hips slowly grinding coffee
a Gobi princess half horse half bowstring
ten ****** on her team as a handicap
like Venus disarmed by wit
horrifically stuffy may I and do you mind
threw me to the rabid chihuahuas
guarding the Temple of Loud Delights
the other church goers heard the commotion
I immediately checked my utensil
and the dish ran away with the spoon
to the Babylonian nuns of St. Thuggurash
protectors of women on bar stools
gave their coyote yell and he was cured
of his ****** extravaganzas
no more dancing harlots and magicians
no more leg ******* the Delphic Floozie
counseling instead Chinese all you can eat
with a band of handy mandarins
their cleavers gleaming
asleep at the foot of his bed
a plate of pasta for a pillow
avanti il populo
**** the menace go play

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon