so there on the window sill
i sat perpetrating my crime,
one had outside the window denoting the mentally ill
and the other inside the compartment of
a room denoting terrorists,
then i switched hands and opinions...
and then two bright objects of fire appeared
on the skyline... then another two... a perfect rhombus that
traversed the night sky.

i mingled *r.d. laing with the saint benaiah ben yehoiada today...
what a miracle of the slow approach,
i was so desperate for paper i even wrote on a sunday times news review page,
god help me, i feel the need to speak over people in writing.
testament to modern *******: the modern trans-gender phenomenon
is primarily found in st. thomas’ gospel
as entrée of r.d. laing’s **** of paradise artistic spontaneity
away from rigid theory so numerous in the exampled situation
of the lisp acquired on the psychoanalytic couch...
it speaks of turning left to right... up to down... man to woman...
a bit like a sat nav giving directions... you end up in a kingdom
that’s a ditch and the king is adorned not in crimson cardinal
or purple bishop... but pain... this is 1967... no wonder the hippies
died off after people started to dot dot dot post-1967
with the excavatio in translatio to remould western, christian, societies.
that text, says it all! david bowie and alice cooper and marc bolan
with the lipstick and 8 o’clock eye-socket shadows...
but things are picking up / getting serious...
the young ones are on it... post-colonial details i might have you add...
it was bound to happen... vietnam and the daddy longlegs starving man of africa...
built in processor 5.6GB of memory and an iphone...
what?! i’m translating my slavic soul... we fed the mongrels and mongolians
with crusader ***** in the baltic... we disappeared for a few centuries
and came back... blackmailing the airlines for an unsafe crash landing
somewhere in belarus, with the state banquet officiated, of course.
you see.. i’m the silent eager satyr from such paintings by matejko
like hołd pruski and stańczyk... expression beaming with: yes... go on...
spur me on... i’ll gallop to status of stallion with laughter!
all the catholic canonical saints are for people who prefer images
to words.
so there’s laing in 1967 allowed the ancient deciphering of
quasi-egyptian text... and then all hell breaks loose in the now, present...
i’ve got two left hands and two right feet... i think i’ll transverse
in walking like a crab... sidewise... out of here...
you go along with your daily “historical” bullying...
i like my place... outside the post-colonial continuum...
so much so that i even have a theory for the experience:
HE WASN’T THINKING IN HIS MOTHER TONGUE,
THE NATIVITY OF THE SOUL TOOK FORM FROM THE POLLEN
OF THE BODY, MANY IRANIANS AND EGYPTIANS...
HE THOUGHT COLONIAL, HE ACTED COLONIAL...
PREVIOUSLY HE MENTIONED POLAND LENDING AEROPLANES
TO EGYPT... HE ACTED LIKE AN ENGLISHMAN TO A ******...
NOW I SEE HIM LIKE A PENGUIN WITH CHEETAH FUR...
A WORD OF LISP I GATHER...
I WAS THINKING STUPID TRUST... WHILE
A SINGLE WORD OF THE MOTHERTONGUE RESONATED
TO PURSUE CREATIVITY THUS EXPRESSED
UNABLE TO FIND THE 0,0 COORDINATE IN THE
NORTHERN TRANS-EUROPEAN MILITARY COMPLEX.
this is how integration happens in europe: acquire the native tongue
acquire native psychology... don’t acquire the latter
define the former with exactness of body...
conclusion? i did stupid via trust... he did stupid via a blood-thirst
and a michael jackson trick of bleaching the soul
but leaving the body oddly mongrel-like... not so complete
like africans from the caribbean losing the tongue
due to jamaica’s great weather, then moving to england
and starting reggae rap... god knows how those two fitted for a size 12
perfect matching: quick-slow, quick-slow...
slow-quick rat ah rat ah regina duck in dumplings... bewildering
that i didn’t turn grey but turned ginger over the years.
you see this theory? it makes the mongol horse pale in comparison;
dad said: a jew did it! a jew did it! a ******* mid-******* just said: you
(double emphasis, the colon and italics... well i was there,
and this poem is proof that i was there, with her).
then this poem in the background with added photogenic approach...
titled: on ******* who create art.
ahem... napkin for the torero and rare steak to suite:
there they are the geniuses and the mediocre,
sitting in abodes of aspirational peace of the living -
half-dead many of them almost to the core of rotten apples,
with arsenic in apple seeds the last remaining life -
a poisonous mechanisation of activity on the breeding continuum
curtailed (is that implying cut-short?),
horrible ******* to live with,
they sitting knitting words together that make no cardigan fit,
or they’re making 2d rooms with the odd splash of colour
that will never obey the cube but the rectangular canvas,
no use of a poet’s pen in the solace of a quiet pension spaced,
the usurpers of peace among the living among the twins of sabbath,
these ronin of the fountain of solace found in t.v. and slippers...
who let them in?! can you hear poetry with a hammer?
can you hear it on a construction site, or an art gallery or a library?
so there they are, the *******, choosing the most importune of places
to do their craft... in the living spaces of plumbers and electricians...
hardly the place to craft their art when there’s no pulpit to
exercise their crafty practice with the end remark.
why then the plumber the safeguard and incubator nest of home,
and why the cold chill of aqueduct syringe at home for poet?
does no friendliness reside in stressing or not stressing certain words anymore?
perhaps the coalminers will tell me?
they say i am in a coal-mine by the sheer whiteness of disposable white
of canvas... and only among them in solidarity of a brotherhood
by excavating with them the coal that’s their amber burnt at home
and my solitary ink expressed in the library of their darkness of having
bulged forearm forceps of the bicep and no patience for reading... but digging,
i’ll know my orientation in those mines once more...
where the safe and understood route has has not yet been written...
and all that is seen... is the whitened darkness of the blank canvas of
what i peer into stumbling with the inverse... the flashlight of words
against the darkness of the canvas... me and my blind horse.
god i hate live editing... but then again... it keeps me
drunk and soberly paranoid to scrabble in revisions before i doze till morn.

i tried to assimilate, oh wait, i did, and i speak better native sprechen than the actual natives, and for that? you get the boot, because some camel jockey egyptian mongrel mixed with iranian blood gets the better of you... i guess the "natives" were fans of the eastern european *******, but not the eastern european males, **** it, i'm coming for the ride; can just see the ****** shouting: ooh ooh! their male counterparts are a'coming! and next thing you know, i'll be asking you to play the ******* banjo, with a toothpick!*

and it was always going to be torrential rain,
suspended in a prelude crescendo
of soulfly's song prophecy...
oh all the hoes come from eastern europe,
just like all didlo moulds come from africa,
gotta perfect that "pleasing of the white
******* honey cougar in plastic too, yo, bro..."
black people don't speak the current
lexicon, they are hyper-evolutionary
with their slang impromptus,
gets annoying after a while,
when you stop keeping track of their
ghettosprechen...
      ******* could have said custard,
meant margarine, but i'd still think of
jungle...
                     ghetto *****, get-a-go!
next time you mention all women of
eastern europe as ******, i'll mention
you in my charcoal wish-yo-were-edible
roasts... **** me... i'd prefer eating a leg
of lamb than a ******; shank.
oh, the word offends you,
but doesn't offend you in a rap limerick?
i.e. ***** ***** bab bab *****?
black people invent too much slang,
too much degenerate use of language,
      i try to keep it straight and universal,
off the orangutans go, talking orange is
the new black...
           i still find it hard to fathom
darwinism, who would be mad to begin
in africa, and end up in the arctic circle,
and no china?! common origins *******...
  tried looking for an eskimo in china,
all i found was, a ******* icecube!
      post-existentialism does exists,
it exists in the form of anglo-existentialism,
i.e. a darwinistic blackmailing...
    21st century existentialism is blackmail,
plain dumb & simple...
   and yes, i have a girlfriend, i call her...
sophia...
       and nietzsche was right:
the ugliest of the ugliest? atheists,
intellectually speaking.
       and why would you ever consider
the pristine sophia / ****** mary if not considering
aspasia, phryne, rahab, theodora,
   to counter philosophy,
   why not craft a:
    philospasy, a philophryny,
       a philorahabu, a philothedorum?
guess what, of the most famous prostitutes,
the contestants are philorahabu,
                     and philothedorum,
and all are famous prostitutes;
then the pristine sophia, my "girlfriend";
philosophy has a deity, that although
deemed pristine, has been touched by
many hands, and many strangleholds of ego,
time to turn this princess into a *****;
and the ones that visited a *******,
will look at those that haven't with curious
eyes.
let's not forget the siamese twin prostitutes
safa & marwa, and the matriarch
and true founder of islam ha-gar -
      the concubine of abraham,
  that ******* mother of islam.... hagar...
you really think men invented the islamic
attire for women?
              who's at the chanel catwalk,
straight men, or gays and women?
       you blame anyone, you blame: hagar...
running between the mounts safa & marwa...
islam, that totalitarian reinvention of
"repentant" / "revised" mode of prostitution...
and as i once overheard an englishman speak,
the niqab? satan's postbox.
- the craft began with treating the world as
solely inanimate, to make it as inanimate as
possible, and interact in it,
   as the sole animate agent, obviously with
the obvious hurdles of animate expressions,
nonetheless, these expressions being
outside the vicinity of integrated animate
actors, working around in inanimate surroundings,
conclusively,
  the "supposed" animate expression regain
their inanimate stratum by a repeatedly
predictable observation of
a prior re similis ad infinitum
  (prior to, again, similar toward infinity).
the point was always to make the world
as inanimate as possible,
    collecting books is a starter,
  collecting cooking utensils another,
the point being, to surround yourself with as
much inanimate reality, as to prove yourself
the animate, the "actor"...
             or more expressively: the puppeteer...
it still bothers me, grinding two prefixes...
the penta-      vs.        the tetra-...
   why? well, we are embodied with five sense,
but there are only four elements...

    vision
audition
gustation                       yes, but there's only
  olfaction
     somatosensation

                    air, fire, earth, water...
      this is almost gagging a schematic,
  we can see fire, earth and water,
  we can hear fire, air, water and earth,
      we can taste...
      we can smell fire, air, water, earth,
we can touch fire, water, earth...

this, by the way is crude...
   and is limited by not adding particular
observations...
   but the ratio 5:4 is in place, akin to
the mad hatter's 10/6 = 0.666...
         and that missing one is: ad infinitum,
might as well call it the lazy eight with 4:5...
since the elements came prior to the senses.

i'm guessing the "fifth element" to compliment
the five senses is a far greater posit than
a sixth sense, in that, this "fifth element"
is a plagiarism of kierkegaard,
  i.e. the "changelessness of god",
namely the eternally immovable object,
an object of constantly perpetuated friction,
so stationary that it moves all things,
which also precipitates into an eternally
recurrent subject matter,
immovable, ergo, inexhaustible.

- and i will die believing that anglo-existentialism
is an argument from the perspective
of blackmail, esp. since it's overtly-repetitive
and unoriginal,
  and if the english found continental
existentialism boring, a continental european
like myself, will find some hidden interest
in this "boring" artefact of time,
   but nothing can redeem repetition,
not even a boring artefact of writing,
   since when reading a boring "effort" of
writing, you can actually wake up,
and yawn...
  but when the same "effort" is repetitive,
you never get a chance to yawn,
you're still asleep, "apparently" enthralled.

- and to give a conclusion...
if an irishman thinks you write akin to
the psychiatric slang of "word salad",
ask him if he has read any james joyce,
if the answer is no, and he replies that he prefers
video game narratives, and has ambitions of
writing a book citing the cliche moonlight sonata
of beethoven... it's one of those times
you can't even laugh, internally, or externally.

- eventuality vs. actuality -
whereby actuality is a reactionary stance
that drags past events into present and future
events...
   whereby eventuality is a liberal stance
that drags past events into a wall,
   the present into a status quo,
  and the future into a snooze button phase
of a clockwork orange.

- no, i don't like this darwinistic blackmail of
continental existentialism,
  this monochromatic monolith...

- better start calling philosophy by its proper name,
philorahabu / philothedorum
(were not underlined on the pixel canvas,
thereby bypassing the oxford dictionary panel
for nuo-verbum acceptance) -
      keep that ****** of yours sophia
in a cage, because your thinking,
like your body, will become contaminated;
but one thing is for sure,
that concubine hagar running between
safa & marwa looking for water...
    can't imagine any other grander matriarch...
a reformed *** slave, who gave birth
to the niqab...
            i really can't imagine jannah
that way... i think it looks like:
1 man + 72 prostitutes,
              and 1 woman + 3 holes stuffed.

it happens rarely, but nonetheless it does:
an alcoholic walks out from his cave,
he walk the sticky wet cement from the onslaught
of rain, laughs-out-loud at the brew
of conjurings in his mind,
enters the supermarket, buys him ***
& pepsi, asks the cashier for some pen & recipe
paper,
scribbles something down -
   and then returns to his abode, less an alcoholic,
and more: a tornado.

what was scribbled down?
  a *******, rather than a thought -
psychology gets away with much
abuse of the ego,
    there's much to be said as to why
"ego-tripping" is underway -
the super-ego is abusive per se -
giving its origins in procrastinating
parents, that dreaded looming shadow -
and the id? does it expand into idea?
i thought not, no, it doesn't:
the id is by no means a worthwhile
segment of the psychological trinity,
it's not an unconscious ego "formality",
it quite simply is: a psychiatric form
of a scalpel: the probing - *it, the probing
vector that - hardly something
worth keeping:
that "benevolent" honing in on /
probing aspect of the "ill mind":
and the no-too-destructive doctor...
but what i wanted to find was a unit,
something specific...
  something that turns an alcoholic
into a tornado, when walking back from
a supermarket...
              a unit? yes! a unit of thought!
to craft a mathematical orientation that cuts
and measures "thinking"...
  i could only come up with the Φ-Θ
complex...
              since id becomes idea, and sometimes
the idea does not last, i wanted
to find the abstract...
  please mention the key & door analogy,
please... so much for omicron and zero;
but it's much more than that,
honestly, it's about heliocentric historiology
and geocentric historiology:
and history per se.
  when did one history end,
and the other history begin?
does it begin with the fail-safe idea of
the anti-christ, that precipitated into anti-matter?
or was it october 4, 1957, with sputnik 1?
or was it april 12, 1961, with yuri gagarin
in vostok 1? or was it that the ancient
maxim ringed true with laika beating
  albert?
this anglophone existentialism of puritanical
and exclusive darwinism is a bit like
shoving by ******* into a monkey wrench
and shouting: sneeze! (rather than ease up
on the squeeze).
   anglophone existentialism has become
nothing any intellectual should attempt
from the european continent,
believe me, i've been watching it for some
years... the anglophones have reinvented
existentialism by blackmailing the 20th
century movement, given the maxim:
you have to! whether in bed or in haystack!
you know what? *******!
you stop blackmailing my need to reproduce,
one thing's for sure:
darwinism & existentialism: don't *******
mingle, my dearest suga-pups (shoo-gah
paps, for posterity)!
     and we're talking jackie nicky joker's
sunset boulevard makeover.
hold on, hold on, when did heliocentric history
begin? surely you can stress the theorists
with copernicus or galileo...
  so the heliocentric history began in
the 20th century, mid-way...
and? didn't humanity simply enforce
geocentrism with satellites?
                        i still feel more orientated
around a geocentric historical realism,
than these mundane sci-fi heliocentric
ambitions that: mind the quake:
seem posthumous realism in...
              about 20 generations later...
i never understood why everyone who
"believed" in a flat earth was stupid...
well... "stupid" enough to be able to read
a map, and not rely on a g.p.s. *****...
    like i said: you navigated a car from england
to a remote part of poland, passing
the ****-hole near dortmund in germany?
   that's a ******* blast...
try navigating a car through that ****-show
of ******'s **** of the autobahn...
              but sure, if imagining an orab
from outer space helps: go for it!
i'm a man, a flat earth is practical!
   i get from a to b, i don't suddenly launch
a ****'s worth of monkey goo into outer
space asking for a meteor shower in return!
and that has to be said:
did satellites enforce heliocentrism,
or did we regress back to geocentrism?
   ha ha... what, a, funny, question...
        obviously the latter forest!
dip *****, plonkers, gits and gumps...
the whole lot of them!
       heliocentric history is infantile!
imagine: was that theory conjured up on
three-dimensional paper,
   or was that the best we could come up
with: in terms of abstracting the imaginative
sphere, i.e. on a two dimensional canvas?
it's not like copernicus conjured up
the heliocentric theory, while scribbling
on a statue, or making break-through
graffiti on a building...
   so? is it such a bad idea to interact between
the two perspectives?
                it's what i always asked for:
the humanities replying to scientific relativism,
i.e. perspectivism!
   a dog is man's best friend,
   while a monkey is man's worst enemy:
hence laika beat albert to claim
  the heavens above the allure of azure,
looking down, and licking its genitals...
my my, heliocentrism began with a dog
licking its genitals... what a mighty event!
and it's not even a century old...
seriously, don't people think that
heliocentric history making is a bit
of a loser's game?
      history is, and will remain,
for the most part, a geocentric affair,
even if star trek advancements come along;
i simply lifted the heliocentric curtain:
since, for most part, history
partakes in geocentrism,
    and heliocentrism as "history" is best
summarised by the news talking heads,
always coming last,
        along with cute, puppy stories,
or that panda that gave birth in some zoo
in china.

I'm drunk.
I'm drunk
And I wish I hadn't eaten in months.
Everything
Tastes like you.
Everything tastes like your **** in me.
Again.
And my screaming.
Again.
And you not caring
Again.

But you're just my ******.
And my friends are blackmailing you for it.
And now you're blackmailing my friends
For breaking all your bones
After they tore you off of me.
And now it's between you and them.
And I don't want any part of it.
And if I did
No one would give me any part of it.
Okay I do.
But still no one will give me any part of it.

So I'l trudge through
******* mountains
And ***** rivers
And razor blade forests.

But you can't forcefully *******
With my body.
Just to keep yourself warm.

It engulfs me even though it has no hands.....at times it's like a person that's claustrophobic.  Although, I'm dying to break free.

Haunting me like a secret that shouldn't be told......blackmailing me until I'm really old.

Fear of heights....fear of success.... Fear of going back to school....fear of being called a nerd....although I think I'm kind of cool. Fear of what people will say....fear of standing in front of a crowd....fear of rejection....fear that the finance company has my car up for repossession.

I'm tired of fear.....so we are about to part ways.  I have things I want to achieve in my upcoming days.

Faith pays .....so fear you have to go.  I don't care how you do it....take the stairs or I can toss you out the window.

You have no place in my life.....you only hold me back.....this isn't a required course....so I refuse to purchase tickets to ride on this track.

Goodbye fear....it wasn't good knowing you.....but it does feel good seeing you leave.  I'm now the masked magician.....watch me pull another trick out of my sleeve.

Abra cadabra....hocus pocus.....read these words and maintain your focus....these words that I write are medicinal.....take two after you eat and then say goodnight.

The next day you will be refreshed and renewed....just from reading a few enlightening words.....from some poetic dude.....

Fear is the absence of faith. What is your greatest fear?
Once your fear is replaced with faith.......the obstacles that stand in your way.....will begin to fall like leaves.

Goodbye fear.

Jealousy??
A myth!!
A way to hide the truth

Love??
An illusion!!
A way to live with fake

Hatred??
A mystery!!
That happens for the wrong person

What if Love and Hatred be interchanged.
I wold hate you till the end of my life!!

soft yellow lamp light,
dark blue sweat stains--
a snarl,
a birdsong,
Nadia's accusation finger,
my obituary daydream--
the tension nooses my neck,
gimme more.

Nadia ***** her eyes--
fires a machine gun's worth,
I die a thousand times,
with a smile and an unopened pack
of cigarettes--
Nadia keeps blackmailing me--
******* send the message,
I've never been more bored
of the unravel--
I've never been more sold
on arrival.

Kiriaki Olivia Eleni Mada-lozi
from Piraeus Greece Billy
ugly Marcia, Sherry Shriki, Darni, Judy Gim, Alb- tch, Jeff Albr.. Henry Robert W
Impotent ejaculator precosē. Charles manson's advocates; Henry Robert narcissistic
your sociopath psychopath nurse from hell in LA CA.
You aren't above the law
Poisoners sterile hainas  
Susan WRat no.
**** human predators human traficants to hell with you all- ratas inmundas! Emilia Velazquez thief IHSS should put you in jail And immigration take your green card stealing my savings and stimulus money cashed. Shame on you rata inmunda ladrona.

Filthy rats
Creeping animals
**** of life
Shoddy monstrosity.

Subhuman
Spectres of Hell
**** vermins
How much damaged you've done to me and my daughter's
Poisoning them with hallucinogenic metamphetamins psychotropics without them knowing
Then, blackmailing them to give up their parental rights to sterile haenas jealous medeas
Add insult to injury to my family forcing psychiatric pill intake to hide your ancient crimes
Your hate crime is now public susan ra-t-ano hell *****

You bought my grown daughter from the human predators I had escaped from
1982.
Coward filthy **** *****

Vermin word raitano
Poisonous serpent
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.

Two-legged rats
I'm talking to you all
because creeping creatures,
even being the most cursed,
compared to your evildoers
vermin human predators,
a creeping snake
stands taller than you all.

**** leeches
**** cockraoches
you who infects with bites,
who hurts and who kills.
Slanders trashing whoever
is holy good and precious

You Vermin
Poisonous serpents
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.
I bind to you all my motherly pain I curse you in every life time.
Two-legged filthy rats,
I'm talking to you!
because a creeping creature,
even being the most cursed and ugly, in hell, on Earth
unwelcome in heaven,
compared to you **** brains.
stands much taller.

You're listening to me
useless
Hyena of Hell
How much I hate you and despise you!

**** leech
**** cockraoch
you who infects with bites,
who hurts and who kills.

Vermin
Poisonous serpents
In everyone's paradise.
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.

Two-legged my filthy rats
I'm talking to you too ***** donors madalozi charms.bos henry welonek.
because a creeping creature,
even being the most cursed compared to you
You stand even smaller.
~~~~~~~
Repost.
By Paquita del Barrio
And Karijinbba.
1976-present
All Rights.

Love is Emotion
Love is Passion
Love is Rejection
Love is Obssession
Love is Transition..


Love is
Going through the pain
Again and again
Over and over,
yet again !!

Being in love is the best phase
The Missing,
The Craving,
The Feeling
The Thinking,
The Caring,
The Loving....

But soon the phase is over...
And Then follows

The Guilt
The Pain
The Hurting
The Blaming
The Shaming
The Hating
The Name calling..

This is acceptable
The parting shots

But
Where does it all lead to??
The worst is yet to begin,

The Obsession..
The Rejection
The Vengeance...
The Stalking
The Blackmailing....
The Threatening...

&
Then the worst phase begins
Love is Lost..
Love is Dreaded..
Love is Goaded..
Love is Loaded
Love is Roasted.
And
The memory is darkened..
The torment awakened..

The once beautiful Love turns
Suffocating emotion..
When
Love becomes Unsettling
Love becomes Unnerving
Love becomes Unstoppable
Love becomes Unsympathising
Love becomes Unwanted..
Love becomes Unrequited

Then
Love becomes a question
And
An unsolved emotion..!!
It becomes a simple
understanding
gone wrong forever,

Failing to believe
The love can end..
The relation can die..
The fizz can evaporate..
The things can come to end...

If you ever
loved someone,
wish them happiness,
If you ever
loved someone let it go
If you ever
loved someone then
LET LOVE PREVAIL...
!!


Sparkle In Wisdom
Oct 2018

it's as nippy as a
Japanese gymnast outside
and I struggle to hide
my disappointment from
anyone watching

autumnal leaves levitate
on puffs of charcoal cold
and I know it won't be
long before the radioactive
compost of winters armor
tests my melatonin mind
with having to wear a
double pair of socks
during the approaching equinox

the front of it's frigid face
pressurizing the nerves and
blackmailing my someday ability
to hear those faraway vocals
of a narcissistic spring

Written by Sara Fielder © Oct 2016

tonight
Your thieving fingers wandered
Over my exposed textured canvas
Absorbing my earth browns and love reds
holding them for random
Blackmailing my sensibilities  ..and
Casually tossing to the floor
I gathered my rainbow, my ocean’s so blue
Sophisticated smooth opaque blacks
         yellows hidden in  sunlight
fire and seductions of my reds
Searching the floor for every drop
scraping the remains from beneath my finger nails  
        and tuck them
Away from sight
         In a jar named reserves
Along with stolen kisses and goodnight wishes
Serving the purpose of reminding me to never forget
Your heart beating into my chest
But drumming out the sound of me living..
     Sometimes I forget that I’m breathing
I lose my self in you
    I hold pieces of your toxins  
Soaking them into my pores, seeping between my fingers
Scratching and Chafing
letting them slide between my thighs
But I don’t fight it
Eyes wide shut
  I mourn you
In my arms I hold pieces of your lies
In these arms I hold tattered broken dreams
In these arms I hold so much
that I laid myself down somewhere
    and
Absentmindedly  walked away
And I minded it absolutely
I lost myself for loving you
Don’t know if I’ll ever find me

you live in a place in me
that no one dares to touch
not even myself
especially myself

you leave a hole the size of your feet
every time i ask you to leave

this is an(other) act of blackmailing myself
because whenever i ask around
for help to cover the hole somehow
they always answer the same thing

*sorry honey,
that is not my shoe size

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I'm the girl in the corner
The one who isn't recognized

You think i'm weird
You think I'm stupid
But you don't know me
You don't know me

I could be the serial killer who is on the loose
I could be the person blackmailing you
I could be you're lost sibling from long ago
But you don't know me
You don't know me

I can come as close to you as I want
But you don't know that
Because you don't know me
But I know you

I did it, I really did it, something got passed,
Nancy and I succeeded at last,
What a huge pain convincing my team,
When all I could do was silently scream.

The Squad were blackmailing,
The media loud blaring,
Republicans laughing while doing high fives,
My only solution to hide and dodge knives.

But now it's all changed, back on my horse,
Steering the country without fear or remorse,
My path controversial but who gives a bean,
They'll all get the message that I say what I mean.

I want kindness and peace, fairness far all,
My social ambitions unashamedly tall,
What do I care about finding the dough,
That's for bean-counters, the ones that should know.

I remember a story while riding a train,
The details are fuzzy but I'm racking my brain,
This Gal said to me "you're Uncle Joe,
That guy from DC, the father of Beau",

I smiled and just answered yes I'm the one,
She went on to say, "If not for me then your son,
Make your time count, bring us relief,
As too many of us are living in grief;

All kinds of big bills piling on high,
Nowhere to turn, just left out to dry,
The rich getting richer, the rest of us stuck,
Flailing and wailing in ankle deep muck";

Wages too low, options too few,
You must find a way to this country renew.
I gave her a smile, patted her hand,
Made her a promise that I'd make a real stand.

So to that special Gal whose name I don't know,
This for a start is what I can show;
For the rest of my goals I'll fight night and day,
To prove I will do and not merely say.

We will be alright, she says
Won't we?
We will be
With a deep blue sigh
I said, knowing
But not knowing if
We will be
Ever the same
But I hope it shows in my eyes
That I haven't slept
Thoughts berating my eeriest senses
Making me numb
Leaving me number

I know it's crazy that I'm empty
And you are still here
But I did dream of having you
Why can't I dream of losing you?
Our conversations are getting shorter
Why am I not surprised
The yearning; lingering no longer
Why does it always have to end
Like this.

It started with the longing
For your attention
And then you refute
And I try again and I get it
Then comes the indifference
Shades of loving-care, laced with awws; cute
Followed almost inevitably
By nonchalantness
Calls and texts unreturned
You think I'm cheating
Quarrels; often unwarranted
Then I start making you feel you nag too much
But you do
I'm sorry I say; the sighs within the apologies;
I'm sorry, Over and again

Now we are at a ****** of sorts
And it's not the kind that's found in clouds of nines
I can't keep going like this
I can't deal with this anymore Vic
Do you want us to end this?
Do you think we could be better?
Questions; more questions
Answers you already have

Then the accusations of deception
Of lies and deception; emotional blackmailing
This is a recurring phase
But it breaks me everytime
Letting go; letting it go, you go
I mean, I already let go before I met you
But I've tried, everytime, I try
And everytime I fail
And in picking myself up to try again
I make you fall for me, then I fail again

I'm broken in shards, and it's my pieces that hurt you
And me
And I would be devastated, but I'm already damaged
I would be hurt, scarred for life
But I don't have the heart

I don't have a heart.

Remember the war.
You remember the war
of 1994?
When you struggled with yourself,
And left your dreams in a jar on a shelf
Collecting dust and grime
Stuck in a corner in the back on the right.
Remember when you fought yourself?
Trying to decide whether or not you needed help.
Trying to decide who you loved more
You or him, the terrible war of 1994.
Remember the war
Blood and gore
Spread across your face like war paint
And you screamed out your battle cry
For hours on until day became night
His words like bullets hitting your chest
Spitting out nails to conquer what was left
Both sides tried their best
To win something that was never really addressed
Blackmailing each other with things that were never confessed.
What a mess,
The war of 1994.

The ball to drop

is not ever
on the other side of the net

self service with a smile

the rule of thumb is: you really can't go mad twice, no matter how much you try, it happens only once, and soon enough you regain a footing, on a plateau of lucidity.

and it happened to me, i thought we had a verbal
contract, a sort of understanding,
  some locket of trust -
  as i charmed a swan out of *loch lomond
to her giggling pleasure,
     and charmed her with a bedroom filled
with candles,
      i should have known that with my third
persistent impotence she was trouble -
   by the fourth she turned into melting butter...
i can and will be an *******,
  i gather that, but there's only so much
mea culpa crap i'll mantra into my life,
we had a deal, she even suggested to be on
anti-contraceptive pills, because she hated
the rubber inside of her:
  talk about a reality check in the alternative
universe of ***** latex ***,
where the whole body is attired in a catwoman
outfit...
    never mind...
         and when she called me hysterical
about hearing voice saying: i think i'm pregnant,
i told her: you know what you have to
do? what? get an abortion...
   i'm still punching myself in the face from
time to time about that,
but i only said in shock what anyone would
say in shock, then again,
  being a man: i have no chance at redemption...
by my own honest shame even golgotha is
a ******* **** mountain of insignificance...
    i retracted my position on the "enforcement"
weeks later,
   but but then she was already on track
in her insidious ways... wooing another worthy
pundit...
     i'm not painting a picture of a saint,
just another schmuck who stumbled upon a great
****...
             who was promised contraceptive
precautions, who didn't mind the rubbers as much
as "circumcising" himself during *******
by pulling his ******* back, ending up with
a purple pheasant head...
       point being, then the attempted ******:
a complete fail,
   yes, i understand,
           abortion, bad, ******: acceptable if
the person is alive...
       i get the cosmic joke,
      i deserved the attempted ******,
like i deserved the wooing of a girl of 19
with a swan and loch lomond sunset -
   and her scheming plans to "settle down" -
like **** she settled down, last time i visited her
she was already married,
  and at a party, with the slashes arm down
the route of veins, talking to some other guy brag:
oh, i ******, great ****...
     am i worried about being a suburban
cenobite these days?
    no... not really...
           only mostly, in that i am looking
at the greatest mistake that ever came my way
in life: a woman...
       and i did have the antithesis of atheism
happen to me, a psychosis -
or what's called:
    having an awakening with regard to a soul...
a second breath, a thought with a body,
the feeling of a grand puppeteer and the inversion
of unconsciousness, onto an otherwise
formerly body of perfected obedience...
  it still bothers me,
for all i know the kid has been born,
  she's a russian national,
  she's a madwoman,
               if ever the kid would have me talk
about his mother and his surrogate father
he'd blink once, turn pale & subsequently die...
    i "hear" this buzzing in me left ear
that i attribute to: why aren't you paying alimony?!
i'm supposed to pay alimony,
      for what, for a lie?!
  oh right, man up, man this, man that,
              i have enough ******* that states:
there's no chance of pregnancy if you
planned it... well thank **** i didn't...
   the "passing on of genes* argument,
that english existential blackmail argument
is about done, which is what all english philosophy
is these days: blackmailing...
       genes are there, the little ****** wasn't
aborted, someone tried to **** me,
i'm still here, the argument's over...
    there's a balance attained...
and yes, that sentiment by bukowski is spot on:
some people never go mad,
  what horrible lives they must lead...
and don't they? opinionated *** cracks unable
to summon ****-pant into the bedroom
having courted a swan beside the shore
of a scottish lake...
  to later find that she cheats on her husband
and i'm not the husband...
          yes, i did suggest her having an abortion,
but she didn't exactly suggest:
let me move to london with you...
  she sure as **** managed to follow a rich boy
from st. petersburg to edinburgh,
no! i'm done with this mea culpa crap!
i'm done with english existentialism being
nothing more than bribery!
  i'm tired! tired tired tired!
              o.k. fair enough, i can settle on
a status quo, but i can't settle on a friend of mine
acting out the judge, the jury & the executioner
part, i apologised for the suggestion
of abortion, i wanted to make amends,
to retract my original position,
   but was i given a chance? no...
     did she keep up with her infidelities? yes...
    did i keep my status as a suburban cenobite?
sorta... broke it with a ******* after
getting bored with my hand...
    oh, what great horror, when one of them
exclaimed after a string of onomatopoeia
"nursery" rhymes of ******:
  that's been the second time;
what the **** does it take these days,
    a slaughterhouse akin to auschwitz to compare
to the moderately good, but sincerely un-evil man?
guess i'll have to showcase evil
in some perverse way to get the proper
badge of "honour" around here...
   for striving down the middle is about
as recognisable as ******* a pig, donning
a facemask of a goat singing:
  jingle bells, jingle testicles,
                     banging all the way;
might as well call it the moment *** became
******...
    you know why the pharaohs had eunuchs
to guard their harems?
   you do know, right? no ****** back in those
days...
   can't keep a harem without entertainment,
the eunuchs were the ****-lords of the harems,
they were the modern prozzies!
the pharaoh ****** these women to *******
and have heirs, but he needed ****** to
"protect" the harems for entertainment purposes...
****... the ****** "guards" did more *******
than the pharaohs; thus said:
you can compliment the size of king solomon's
harem,
       admire it...
   but back when ****** was not available,
you really can expect me to believe in solomon's
******* stamina... the size of the harem
i can imagine, the stamina of the kind? nope,
esp. since there was no ****** to turn that
limp donkey of a phallus into a galloping
steed, revising 1000+ bored "housewives".

Stop ******* blackmailing me with your life.  I can't love you the way you want me to. And if you even knew who i was, you wouldnt want me to.  You see the me you want to see me: perfect. you see the world the way you want to see the world: awful.  Im not perfect. the world isnt all bad.  And i cant cure you.  
If you say one more **** time that you need a girlfriend to be happy im going to lose it.  theres a reason doctors dont prescribe significant others. But buy yourself a ******* blow up doll if itll make you "happy." draw a face on your god ****** hand.  but dont you dare lay that hand on me.  
And if you tell me one more time that youre more broken than me, im actually going to prove you wrong by shattering right in front of you. This isnt a contest.  This isnt something you should be trying to "win."
I dont care if your life has been worse.  Its not my life thats broken, its me.  Maybe you dont get that.  maybe you dont get that i cant love you and false love wont cure you. im sorry. im so ******* sorry.
but stop dragging me into this.  
stop making me shake and throw up because you want me to tell you that youre allowed to **** yourself.  think about someone other than your ******* self for a change.  youre hurting me more than you think.  and you probably wouldnt even care if you knew because i still wont give you head.    
you wont let yourself be happy and that is your own ****** fault.  Im not going to pity you anymore because the more i learn who the real you is the more i realize that this has nothing to do with your life, or your relationship status, but it has everything to do with your inability to give a **** about anyone but your self.  im glad you care about your self.  i wish i cared about myself more.  but youre not the only one here thats struggling. youre not the only one here thats lonely. but youre the only one that can fix you.  people are temporary. you of all people should know that. so why the hell do you depend so much on others?  we all need people, this is true.  and im here for you. your sisters are here for you. your grandparents are here for you. kaine is here for you. but they cant cure you.  you wont let yourself be cured because you dont think its possible without a ******* your arm.
dont tell me that things will never be okay. youre only 16. do you really think you know everything? i know youve been through a lot but you havent let that teach you anything. you know how much youve made me cry because you want me to be the one to make you happy?  i need to work on myself before i can take on another construction project.  and really, fix your **** self.  im tired of trying.  i dont want you to die. i dont want you to hurt yourself.  but youre making me want to do both those things and **** it it can do that enough without your help thank you very much.

Eight years ago in the homeless shelter a loud beep went off in my ear.  It was then that I remembered the time in 1983 that that mob f-word [expletive] slammed a cork ***** in my right ear, twisted it, then ripped out my head guts through my ear.

  Living through the pain, I enjoyed the silence.  Strumming my guitar.  Feeling the vibrations of the neighbors on the floor below me.  The occasional mob cop f-word [expletive] kicking in my door.  Then, silently mouthing nonsense to me as to why I should keep the noise down.  I wish you were there to see the dumbfoundedness when they realised I could not hear them.  But, mostly I would watch the krackles fly, wonderlously sailing.  Perfectly, and without err and without that [idol] awful chatter that drove my girlfriend from the Bronx to move out because (get this) she didn't want to live in a jungle.

  Again my train jumps the tracks.  I'm so sorry, and I do feel the pain of punishment forty-one years after my father taught me how to behave.  Maybe I'll just jump off the train and into a taxi.

Yes, this is much better, now getting back to the story.  The government (Social Security Administration) let me be free of sound for about six months until they figured if they swung for the surgery, they wouldn't have to pay me benefits.  And, when a Lodi mob cop **** shot me because I couldn't hear him yell stop.  I got a lot of money for that.  That is when the government stepped in to rebuild my ear.  I told them no but, they dragged me onto surgery against my will anyway.  Laughing all the while.

  Later I find out that the CIA put a tracer (sender/receiver) in along with a plastic/metal ear drum or whatever part it's called.  Taxi Stop!  40 Dollars!  no tip.

  So, two years ago like I said.  I'm in the homeless shelter and this thing goes off BEEP, BEEP, BEEEEEEEEEEP.  And people are punching me and beating me and telling me to shut up.  And, I'm immobilized because when you have a titanium alloy amplifier in you it hurts your ears even if they are made out of plastic.  And this thing goes on for like SIXTEEN HOURS and I want to reach in and pull it out but, I can't and I scream help and start kicking back until the police come.  But, the thing is still beeping.

  The next day and this is the part that really hurts.  The next day, this slunt that stole my virginity when I was thirteen is there and she still has the thing on in front of all the police and everything and I tell the police DO NOT HELP THAT WOMAN.  She has been blackmailing me for 36 years because I will not have her.  She had me ***** and photographed it and posted photos of this **** everywhere.

  Billboards, grocery stores, places of employment, Yankee Stadium, Florida, the world.  Stop helping this ******!  She should be in jail or the very least5 a ****** ward where they could at least try to help her.

  I have a son and daughter from a previous marriage.  Me, I'm used to being abused.  My family started it when I was six months old.  But, my children really don't have to put up with this garbage because some ***** can't get over me after I rejected her THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS AGO.  ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.  I have a kid who believes this ***** and I have to tell him it's not true and explain what demonic possession is and he says sure dad.  But, then goes ahead and listens to his mother anyway.

He's a good boy.

She left
needed an alarm
to remind new day
holding her love..
remembering... that
she keep on hurling
stones and made
the love glass to break
I learned
both of us are not experienced
the same love, otherwise…
waited……………
she came back
to stick
the broken one
now, am not experiencing
the same love.
her tears blackmailing
the love…….. It always
happen in Love
and continue in marriage life….

hark! I am greeted by angels
each with devil horns and
spikes in their backs
blackmailing my feet to lead me
where?
away from from the shining seas
twinkling eyes and fluttered eyelashes
fare thee well in these trying times
they screech at me from
their balconies
all I can do is cry
deep in my hands
cracking my nose with my knuckles

There is a major shortage
Especially in southern latitudes
That creates an insufficiency
Of any proportionate gratitude.
They don’t realize down there
That the 1970s gay rights fuss
Let issues of personal freedom
Come in from the back of the bus.

These noisy not-very-Christians
Should be standing up to cheer
Instead of ******* and moaning
Over copious bottles of beer
Because all of us are different
In many different secret ways
And if all their secrets came out
Their friends would be amazed.

The difference is that those,
The ‘be Godly on Sunday’ folks
Would be the sad punchlines of
Some fairly disgusting jokes.
The reason they are not making
******* look much more tame
Is they seldom admit out loud
And give their peccadilloes names.

They scoff at those born gay
And point their fingers at us
And use their faulty logic to
Pompously try to combat us.
It takes those of us who stand,
Who fit the profile of the plucky
To try to get across the point;
Bigots should think themselves lucky.

It’s a wonder that the news today
Of the gropers and the whorehounds
Those jerks elected to high office
Think they stand on moral ground
While many reverends are molesting
Blackmailing, cheating and conniving
And yet of hypocrisy by the righteous
News virtually never stops arriving.

Could it be that it is too much for them
To keep this self-righteous stance
Of watching those demanding freedom
And still looking at them askance?
Wouldn’t it be better if they all
Did what their pal Jesus really said
And get what the revivalist untutored
Greedy church liars out of their head?

odd ducks and space cadets
curry and whistler
sugary innards
emmie is now green
blackmailing her with secrets
dont accept things that are unacceptable
as sweet as pink eye
.

His younger sister was the bride
And he sat facing the gushing girl
He fondled the **** of his walking cane
As he waited for her eyes to meet his gaze;
When they finally did, he smiled a knowing smile
A vexing, blackmailing smile
That sought a response- a glint of acknowledgement;
It sent chills down her spine, sweat broke out on her back
She now regretted having been the one who'd started-
The impetuous demands that violated the natural
And made them feel like some Old Testament pairs
He'd become relentless, with pickpocketing deftness
At the drop of a hat, he'd drop his pants

Now, rising from his seat, he blew her a kiss
And that did her in

He is biologically programmed to love you unconditionally, regardless of anything or anyone you might do.
He’s the first to break your heart and the last to mend it.
He teaches you so many things whether they’re wrong or right. But even if he fails and gives you those great issues everyone wants and might have. This specific type of disorder that cannot help you differentiate between every other man you have slept with..
He's supposed to be the guy in your life that will never leave and never make you feel worse about yourself. Make you feel like that ridiculous princess that you are going to be.
It goes downhill when it does not work out because you’re holding hands with all the wrong boys and your mother starts to blame you because it is not one-sided when in reality it is. And everyone just starts emotionally blackmailing you on whatever you’re doing and shaming you in what makes you happy.
You receive ******* from the best guys that ones your mom would want you to marry. Then you laugh and realize that they’re not here to stay and you flutter to the next hand that will play with your hair like your father didn’t.
He makes me you want to be everything in the world just for him to be proud of you and give you that approval for the genes he shares with you.
Yet you also want to make sure he’s alive to see that pretty corpse of his little girl just to make him feel hell.
Every single hell that you went through with the occasional wrong guy that shared a kiss with you.
You’re thankful for everything else but less thankful for the **** you did not ask for.
Unfortunately, even if you surround yourself with either the jerks or darlings of the universe you always see that guy at home in one of them, either in the way they speak or cook.

I loved you when the sun was rising,
I still love you now when the storm is hard.
I look at you in my dreams,
and find myself alive.
One thing you have not assured me is,
if you are here to stay.
For the last time we were together,
you painted me in plain.
I told you about the tales,
the tales of my heart.
How much it gives me stories,
of you and I and us.
But why do you not assure me,
that we will still be one?
In happiness, in sadness and even
throughout my life.
Are they threatening you?
Are they blackmailing you?
Are they asking you to leave me for…?
Someone younger than I?
Someone more beautiful?
Someone more amazing?
But one thing I seek of you is a direct answer,
an answer to the question that has bugged me,
Killed my soul,
Stole my existence,
Honey, please do anything but never,
Never paint me in black.

We are nameless, and you are shameless
Blackmailing us with unemployment
False promises and greed for power
It's a rotten regime and you're a fascist *****

Slaughtering people in the name of god
You have the help of faithful frauds
Ruling over ***** pigs of the city
Selling us under the cover of dignity

You've been voted in by blind, deaf and dumb sheep
We're not among them, we're anarchists
You may have control over schools and shapeless brains,
We're ******* nobodies, but we're still sane

Count your days as the hands are rising
Gather your troops, your policies dying
No more of your sweet lies
We've seen beyond it.
Enough of your blah blah blahs
We're tired of it.

Mom - why you again rejected one more guy
Like this no one will marry you
Me - and I want the same mom
Mom - and why so?
Me - I have my dreams mom I have to achieve that
Mom - so what you can achieve that after your marriage also
Me - how like you ever dreamt of
My dreams will also be in a dustbin then
I didn't completed my degrees to marry and do household chores
Mom - and after marriage also you can fulfill your dreams
I also didn't have worked so hard to only give you degrees
I also want that you will stand on your leg someday
but that didn't meant that you don't have to marry
Me - you know what mom I also want to marry but only after fulfilling my dreams
Mom - when will you will be of 60 years
Me - sorry mom I can't agree with you in this mom because I have made my mind to fulfill my dreams
I love you a lot mom
but I can't destroy my dreams for anyone
I know neither I nor you are wrong in our place but I can't let the marriage destroy my dreams
Mom - OK do as you like
But never became burden on ourselves
Me - don't worry mom I will never be burden on you or others as my dreams is like that only to never became burden on others and never let others to become burden.
Mom - OK as you want as I am nobody to you.
Me - that's an emotional blackmailing but it still can't effect me.

( in this convo neither the daughter is fully wrong nor mom it's only the difference of thoughts
So we can't judge anybody)

Dreams, fascinating
ambitions, sky-high
thoughts, innovative
nerves, steely
resolve, firm.
'Iron in the soul',
fearless to the core,
empathetic,
compassionate,
loving, caring mind,
his/her precious assets.
Been through
good and bad times
been through hunger and hardships
poised, serene, tranquil
none was there to guide
philosopher, friend and guide
himself/herself.
The blessings in life
husband, wife, children
well-wishers,
fame and defamation
as also personal animosities
all visited later,
but no not to be cowed down
under pressure or blackmailing
all, the boon of Goddess of
words
the boon of sculpting of words
Words ever powerful and mighty
ever
he/she knows for certain
the only companions
throughout, till
the moment of breathing last
will be words, words and words.