Unbeautiful, unbeautiful
Unhandsome and unimportant
This one goes out to the losers
All the liars and the thieves
And the wannabe beauty queens

You're never going to shine
Not even for a little bit
So get off the stage
Before the booing crowds take seize
Unbeautiful, unbeautiful
This one goes out to me.

entering year 2000
rewinding vhs tape
installing napster client
anticipating victorious gore
bursting dot-com bubble
blocking tomorrow's nostalgia
commemorating festival tragedy
examining supersonic concorde
watching election coverage
recounting inconvenient truths
puzzling interface design
booing nuc-u-lar president

rising black monolith
editing non-linear encyclopedia
feeling inaugurally bushed
reliving century's dawn
unchanging state flag
processing royal massacre
escaping insane asylum
sensing impending collapse
perusing city guide
collapsing contemporary structures
initiating quixotic peacekeeping
ignoring conscription threats

entering year 2002
reporting unfortunate pearl
relaxing shotgun porch
exploding roadside bombs
addressing thousand followers
hugging financial meltdown
writing resembling skylines
shocking archipelagic bursts
processing theatrical disaster
tightening homeland security

entering year 2003
proliferating elegant telegnosis
rejecting freedom fries
blazing wartime trails
toppling dictatorial statue
unfurling "mission accomplished"
handling continental blackout
ejecting coronal masses

entering year 2004
flashing multiple sobriquets
populating dorm-roomy website
high-grossing aramaic movie
generating tunnel vision
rushing national anthem
parading goth athletes
letting games begin
accepting soviet passports
continuing obscure flumadiddle
lunar-eclipsing world series
two-terming republican regime
declining personality cult
glowing orange revolution
eroding periglacial drumlins
inundating lacustrine basins
exciting geomorphological processes
enduring tumultuous tsunami

entering year 2005
blasting "galvanize" repeatedly
unforgiving cyclonic scenario
printing controversial drawing
sketching cartoon prophet
overturning hurricane alphabet
rigging medal count
preparing new horizons
rejecting flash sites

entering year 2006
setting plutonian destination
synchronizing new horizons
sighting stellar foison
maintaining feudal system
emerging microblogging service
reading ancient tweets
rotating golden statue
mounting social debt
protesting planetary demotion
forecasting catastrophic recession
executing "innocent" dictator

entering year 2007
declining share prices
building ruby railroad
lifting presidential term-limits
perpetuating oil-rich dictatorships
falling interstate bridge
slugging giant bonds
clothing blackwater mercenaries
disappearing internet personalities
unforgiving writers strike

entering year 2008
stealing variable thunders
relaxing domain names
letting games continue
exploding sunrise propane
requesting birth certificate
electing another suit
disappointing orthodox republicans
microblogging maximal meltdown

entering year 2009
inaugurating new president
encountering bear markets
cackling risible laughter
dying pop king
deleting neolithic internet

entering year 2010
collapsing presidential palace
prospering cinematic avatar
pronouncing eyjafjallajökull effortlessly
"kettling riot police
flaming cop cruiser"
blasting text-based vuvuzelas
leaking diplomatic cables
fading pre-twitter memories
self-immolating street vendor

entering year 2011
"enervating nine-point quake
propagating harbor wave
inundating nuclear plant
irradiating unclear fates"
raging mid-eastern spring
throwing body asea
locating trojan asteroid
penetrating financial throughfare
resonating oral amplifier
blazing verdant material

entering year 2012
rising chubby dictator
gentrifying weird twitter
exploding next month
intriguing "fake" passport
proliferating single-hued avatars
surging sandy cyclone
inhabiting alternate universe
manipulating another election
rigging people's ballots
perpetuating manipulated world
fulfilling megalomaniac urges
surviving previous apocalypse
surviving another baktun

entering year 2013
descending rogue meteor
encoding festival weekend
obfuscating's very own
approving snow den
searching yaya island
soaking wet veld

entering year 2014
missing plane geometry?
annexing peninsular territory
printing powdered medication
forecasting meteoric boomtime
prevailing monochromatic identity
avoiding aviation accidents
determining auspicious date
revising deactivation plans

Preamble at the showdown the fighters eye to eye
Droning pulse of discourse from the referee is dry,
Bouncing back to my corner the butterflies take charge
For the other guy’s a monster, like a Doberman at large.

Bell resounds alarmingly, I shuffle forth to meet
A combination thrown with steel…it whacks me off my feet.
Seeing stars I resurrect to lurch about the ring
To try to keep some distance from the monster’s punching sting.

Roaring crowd are baying now they call to take me out
The Doberman is grinning for he reckons it’s a route,
The flashing light confusing, the noise a steady din
As the monster comes in quickly to achieve expected win.

Throwing jabs to keep him back, retreating to the rope
I cover up with everything to give myself some hope
He pounds with his salvos they hammer hard and fast
His breathing rasping in my ears I pray to God I last.

Saved by the bell and cold water, such disgrace
The crowd are loudly booing, I’ve not put leather on his face,
A wash of resolution hotly surges from within
So I **** the mouth guard back and rush on out to tackle him.

Defensive expectations had him open up his chin
So I feinted with a left and launched a mighty right with spin,
Boring in with fury and a combination score
I hit him with an uppercut which traversed from the floor.

Miraculously the eyeballs rolled and disappeared from sight
I threw another flurry…but had no one to fight
Flat out on the deck he lay, the Doberman was out
As I bounced around like Rocky to the punters frenzied shout.

Camera flashes blinded as the raving crowd went wild.
It defied all expectations, I was the sacrificial child.
Bets were laid that I would fall within a round or two
The screaming din reflected that all bets were in the poo.

The countdown took forever and I swear I watched each stroke
And kept one eye on the fallen, should he rise he’d go for broke,
My amazement with two wobbly knees and heaving lungs of fire
When my leaden glove was held aloft to victory entire.

Winners come and winners go but this I’ll not forget
When fortune favoured sweetly…and I collected on the bet!


Marshalg
My thanks to Shane Cameron…a real fighter.
14 April 2013 (Pukehana Paradise)

© 2013 Marshal Gebbie

Proletariat
Author: Sajal Ahmed
Type: Poetry
Format: PDF
Size: 2.43mb
Download Proletariat. PDF: https://www.mediafire.com/file/lokwkn53bm4sz52/Proletariat+uploading+copy.pdf
Preamble
I have some of my poems in the book. Thinking about poems are my own. I love to decorate the world like myself.
With your thoughts or imagination, the world of my own thoughts or imagination may not be the same.
I am not worried about whether your thoughts or philosophy are mixed with my thoughts or philosophy, because I am happy that 'at least I have a thought area of ​​my own. And I can paint my fantasies with my own paint! '
Last: Readers should read, think, and critique. That's my glamor.






Proletariat
Sajal Ahmed


Maxim E Publication
Published Date: 2 Dec 2018
Allright Reserved ©Sajal Ahmed

Prehistoric name
My father was old-fashioned. He named me Abu Bakr. The name was like poison to me. As an old woman,  The name has been found out from the bottom of the pinnacle. My father was old-fashioned. His thoughts are outdated.
I grow up and change the name; Instead of an old-fashioned name.
  I do not know if my father was suffering, But he never called me anymore.

Poets Never Die
If I am a woman poet
My poetry, there was no shortage of readers.
The comment room would have been filled, indigenous.
I'm sorry
Meanwhile, my poetry reader came out clean air, and a tree.
Then they said to me, write down the death;
And that's suicide.
Now I said; Every man and animal will one day taste death.
Poets are getting the news of death very long ago
O great winds and trees!
The trees and the wind laugh at me and say, 'But the poets never taste the death!'

Make a revolution
Against the bourgeoisie
And just a revolution
my mother
Did not eat rice
Today is three days
my mother
Did not get rice
Sweat took her clothes
There was no money tied
No grocers left him
Nobody paid for his hard work
**** rice
Gourd pulp
Across the nun
Eutlet potatoes
No one bought it.
No one took the news,
Whether my mother ate or not
And just have to make a revolution.
To give rice to my mother,
And just a revolution.
Sixteen million people's resources
Swallowing, the upper class
Today will be divided, swallowed resources.
Maybe give rice
Either head
Sons of *****, chewed your head today!


Proletariat
1.
I will buy a spectacles to buy my father, I heard from the store, the full costume spectacles stolen! There will be no police station for anyone who steals the galley. There will be no press conference, no meeting, no procession will be held. No status, event or group will be opened on Facebook in protest. No action will be taken from the government to thieves.
2.
There are two types of theft in the world!
Proper stolen
Illegal stolen
Proper stolen proletariat and his property in the Elite House. Elite classmates pay the remaining stolen money. Elite people steal the cheap glasses from all markets and hopefully for more profit.
I think of my father going to buy glasses. Parents can not read the old specs due to lost!
3.
My dad
Want to see the daily political page! Then he became an intellectual and taught me how to survive in the present political field. How to make a foul goal. Father is not able to give me anything! As the father's glasses lost.
4.
I was excited to see my politician-savvy intellectual old father, so I went out to buy a spectacles. I came to the shop to see my father's spectacles stolen from the shop! The elites have stolen my dad's spectacles.
Now I want to eat all the elite money, carts and properties, all chew!


Suddenly!
Suddenly! Six people in front of you are wearing black clothes!
And they are threatening to shoot your father;
Not six of them, you can not understand that they are just a few! Father's hands are binding!
Tie the legs, and tape the face!
They  cheating on a booing, tapping the tape fills the vague word.
Suddenly!
And after hearing his shack, someone tied black in the face and hit with the gun button hit him! Father's hand tied. His legs tied. And tape in the mouth.
Now the father is going down!
Dad does not know
His eyes are watering and his blood is bleeding!
Dad is now deliberately bidding And blood in the floor.

Suddenly!
Looking at the floor, your brother and mother's bodies are there after the floor.
They forgot to call people screaming.
As a mistake, the holes along the mother's forehead and brother's chest.
Now your eyes are water! But you can not cry!
The body of the brother is still bouncing, the tongue is out,
fresh blood in the floor!
You will not be pampered by the fact that this incident will be headlined in different newspapers tomorrow.
Because all the news is not spunky. Nobody wants to be like this headline.
You now have the idea of ​​saving yourself.
Suddenly you thought, what is your enmity with them?
You do not know so far You just know your father has a property. And there has been a conflict between Mayor Osman Sahab. Osman has called you and helped you.
Osman is a good man He is the winner of victory
You yourself are his people. You're a huge fan of him. His speech Motivational.
Now.    
You think, such a good man like Osman can be found only in heaven; Or as a pity on the story page.
This is not possible by him. Proceed in front of the story.

Suddenly!
You see no one around;
And there is only one chance in your hand
Think about what to do now. There is no time.
There is nothing to do or to die!
A pistol in front of you, you can survive if you want to use it. But if you shoot a gun and shoot him, then he will shoot his father right now! What do you think of racing to run!
Yes! Alvida! Survive. Yes, live life!

Suddenly!
'Father' goin in the shape! Squeeze the fad Buiyao..... Buiyao... Buiyao.......
Dad! They killed your dad!
Now? Now you will find them!
So run......... yes! Run it.........
A bridge in front
No
Six people wearing black clothes
Not more
Osman's black dress
The six of them are behind him
Dad is on the floor
Mother is dead afterwards
The brothers are screaming
Tape in the mouth of your father
Brother's body on the floor
Gun in your hand
You are in your house
You are running on the bridge!

Suddenly!
You think Osman is in front of you
Do not you in his house
Perhaps running to run,
You got hit in his car
He brought you to his house.
He asks you repeatedly,
'What is the event?'
You think all the imagination still
You are dreaming of sleeping at night.
Osman Sahib silence.
You're also silent You're over again. It's a dream After a while again came back.
Osman Sahab laughing in front of you.
It's a dream
It's not a dream.
Osman Sahib laughing. You are not in his house, in dark quotes. Ha ha ha Osman Sahab will laugh more!
I can not write anymore. Because once people die, there is no history!
I can only highlight, Osman's smiling success.
Osman sahab busses laugh......

If you want to fly then fly
If you want to fly then fly to the sky
If you want to fly then your fan will grow.


Liar Lover
O liar lover!
Your biggest lies "I love you babe, more than me and my father-mother."
I remember your words
And every falsehood will be judged one day!
That day I opened my pants zipper:
I'll **** your ***** face!
"What is insult?"
I'll teach you.
******* **** girl
No one will look at you;
Nobody will show sympathy;
You will cry,
Nobody can hold your hand,
I'll kick you
In your face and chest
I will kick your stomach!
More,
I will tattoo your whole body
"You are a liar! You are a scam! You're a *****! You're a street nerd dog!"
***** now go to hell....


First Love Makin
I am talking about the first day to throw you away.
The day you hit me;
My bird took refuge in your secret house.
Both of us were in the trunk:
of the cemestery;
Both are very happy.
Then you were ******* my lips
Like an orange cell,
I think it would eat.
I kissed your whole body. Your ******,
was very hard
I touched your *******.
Tallow two *****.
You ****** eyes and bitten won lips
and said, "Ah!"
Then the became one two bodies.
The two souls joined together in the same spirit.
I still remember that day.


Prayer
More than once I tried
My neck is not lowered!
There is a lot to leave outside the suburbs
I do not feel good..
Where did the god worshiped,
where did God go?
Why do not you see me?
What a weird mood
Worshiped on the Lord's footsteps
Every evening and every morning,
My Lord's worship is no more
Do not mind!
I lost;
This is an unbearable pain!
Why do not you see me?

You Never seen his heart
O lovers of earth
You Never seen his heart,
Have you ever seen the heart
of your poor boyfriend?
How much burns?
How much of his humility, his survival,
How much does he think of himself as small?
What are you looking at
The young man's cry alone at night?
You look at the boyfriend
Sometimes the lover's heart?
How to fight with a real world;
Ever wondered why a sea water would be donated;
Why mix
The body in the grave
After so many ways have passed
A fish;
Decide to remain lonely.
pages breaks out of the book,
after a long sleeveless ride
One crow flies alone
The money is blown
after the ATM booth;
This world
Here it is
It's weird!
Sick and sick
You love it so much that it hurts you away;
Thinking you will be sick
By separating yourself from you.
You think of him as selfish
Think about your own interests
The boy left you today.
But
Forget you repeatedly;
That is not love and sometimes selfish;
Forget you repeatedly
If selfish;
But why do not you look at another woman thinking you will suffer?
You never asked yourself;
Why the boy in the face of is not so much smile today
Does not laugh a little?
Why do you want to move away?
Maybe the rest of the time you are sick with him
Thinking of yourself in your place, why he left yourself alone.
Leave you out and say in his heart;
"In the public way
In the crowd of seven hundred millions of people
Your walk is still a lot of way to your walk,
Just started;
There is no limit on this path
There are many bowlers here
Many goons;
A huge screen.
Large screen flashes unfinished
The screen is torn off
Start walking
You have to walk......
When you learn to recognize "what is man?"
When you start to realize how difficult the reality is
Again and again called my name will go to Dargah
Kedgeree will give me my name
But I can not get back again
How difficult can the human heart be
As if tough rock stone
Did not understand today?
You did it
But why often in his own soft heart
Do you suffer so much?
Why are you so skeptical to bite yourself?
How terrible it is to get rid of people
You can not learn today?
You have learned
Why then why
Why then
Can not you be strong? ''
On different issues
After the various wounds were created
And decided
Own unbeatable
Painter Onle
Do not let you burn
Your efforts to be happy for you.
You still did not see the reality;
How did you cry after crying?
Last night did not sleepy;
Could not sleepy
He cried very silently.
He never wanted to cry you;
And why did you cry?
Have you ever thought about that?
There comes a time
People sacrifice their favorite things
Just as Ibrahim gave his beloved son a sacrifice.
The world is underground
So here is the emotional crowd
The reality comes back often
There are many reasons for sacrificing their favorite things.


Am I Wrong?
I repeatedly say to the heart, "I am wrong, I am wrong!" The heart repeatedly tells me, "You do not, you are wrong! ''

Will not be seen
Suddenly we stopped at the last page;
Wherever the cloud stops on the mountain!
There is a frost on the fridge,
The rain rises every day in the morning and shook silently.
Just like a broomstick,
Where all the fish stops are waterless pond;
I'll stand there every morning alone,
I know that all will come, only you will not be seen....


Slave of the Devil
If the star goes away;
The devil is scared
Running rushing,
His servants in this town
Reigns
An Eye of Illuminati
The trembling shivering in winter
And singing different songs;
A piece of blanket is very cold
Hey poor party
To stay comfortable
Let's move to Satan's team.


I was a broken glass
I was a glass, and broke in a variety of ways.
Blood in broken glass it's severed heart.....


Going to die now
I'm going to die now
The soul is going down;
The boat floats on the Spirit,
Everything is going away from the body;
And I, I will not come back!

Mudane Football
After kicking everyone else, I guess, I'm a Mundane football!


Block To Making dreams
People can not sleep after crying, If he can not sleep, he can not make dream


The Train
The train that stopped at midway; That's death


God and My Dad
I never asked for anything from God, and God never gave me anything like my father. The difference between my father and God is that, my father was stunned by the birth of me. And God did not cease to create the punishment in the Hereafter will be rewarded!


My blocked Happiness
I feel painful Hundreds of millions of illnesses die of happiness


My syllabus
My syllabus has been burnt;
Do not read any bad love poem story book
No need spectacles available;
I do not fear the extra cost;
My syllabus is burnt-
Broke spectacles.

You are in Whirl of the earth
When you are in the whirl of the earth, when you look at the whole world, then you see the dull! Look at the left, there is no one next to you. Look at the left, or there is no one there. The God above is not with you. The parents of the house, they do not even understand you. Therefore, you do not have to stand up properly. now? Yes, your time of death is right now. But you know, you can not die. Because death does not want you!

I'm Afraid
When I look at the pocket, I'm afraid to look at you. After that, when I looked at the pocket last time, my own janaza taught myself.


Worst offender
The worst offender in the world itself seems to be, when my dear man is crying for my own sake!

I am
I only swallow the grief of beloved people. One day, the troubles that I have not digested, will answer everything.


****** laws
This is the world of law;
Here people, animals, insects and insects, and roads all obey the law.
All the leaders of the world, all the poets of the world, have enacted the law.
You are walking; You have to obey the law.
Eating; Laws must be followed.
You are enjoying marijuana;
You will be enacted, they will take you away and the police will beat you; You must be in jail!
You do not have freedom of speech; Your words and laws have been imposed! You will leave the excretion; It is also under the law.
Therefore, you can be a sea or wave; There is no law, no matter where you are,
you can be happy wherever you are.
After whipping you will be able to float which is happy.
So you become sea or waves.


Prayer
More than once I tried
My neck is not lowered!
There is a lot to leave outside the suburbs
I do not feel good..
Where did the god worshiped,
where did God go?
Why do not you see me?
What a weird mood
Worshiped on the Lord's footsteps
Every evening and every morning,
My Lord's worship is no more
Do not mind!
I lost;
This is an unbearable pain!
Why do not you see me?

I'm Innocent
What is my crime?
Why do that?
What is the blame?
Do you leave me?
I'm innocent
I'm so so
I'm innocent
I'm not at fault!
I love you
So always say true
I'm so scared
About our relationship
If it breaks
My death is bound!
I do not want
To die
Leave you
I do not want you to cry
I do not want you to be alone
I do not want to see water in your eyes
I want you
Smile
More
Get angry with me
And finally
Love me.
You can cry me
Hit as much as possible
As much as kicks me
Still I will not let you cry
Because I love you
If I ever see you weeping;
If I ever see you wandering,
I will destroy this world!
Oath By God!


-The End-

I am not an ordinary person.

I am no genius,
no artist,
and barely a poet.

I have no great life's work,
no opera,
no magnum opus;
but I'm no ordinary person.

There are no great lovers
waiting for my arrival
at the docks,
or morning my departure
as the ship sets sail.

No major sporting events
with crowds of fans cheering
and booing my every
success and failure.

Nobody takes pictures
of me or gawks at my pose.

Nor does anyone ask
for my signature
on their favorite
piece of paper,
which happens to be
stained by the ink
of my own words.

No one praises me
for my work,
or thinks I'm the best
at what I do,
whatever it is I do.

But I'm no ordinary person.

I have no son or
daughter to look up to me.

Parties aren't thrown
for me, and I am not
on the top of anyone's list,
not even the **** list
my enemies make.

I don't dance very well,
and I'm not a good singer,
songwriter,
musician,
or composer.

I'll probably never
be on TV or
in the movies,
no that's not
gonna be me.

But my life's work
is its happiness,
my operas are
my own personal dramas,
and my magnum opus
is this life itself.

For I am like you
the extraordinary person.

Tell me would you rather be a star or an icon?
No hard feelings let's let bygones be bygones
Because by the time that I'm done it'll all be gone
And that time has come now bang the gong

Poetry takes over me its in my blood
Millions of ideas overflow and flood
I'm the guy who can't explain the things that he does
Before I can finish one the next one's already begun
Call me Bush cause I make preemptive strikes
Late at night, can't sleep I got night terrors
I'm a writer, human error
Make mistakes, but never fake
Verbal assaults, symbolic somersaults
You never spot it, I got it, Haley's Comet  
Get it? got it? Good
What is this amateur hour?
Over these insects I tower
And I leave 'em with a sour taste in their mouths
Too many syllables to count, the can't figure out how
This came to light how this came to be
How someone can be so lyrically and poetically skilled
I'm strong willed to make a killing
To put my name in the top billing
That's T-O-M-M-Y J-O-H-N-S-O-N
Don't wear it out or make me spell it again
The rhythm and rhyme is mine
To take and break, mutilate and manipulate
Into one of my mutated manifestations of soul
So if we go blow for blow
Just roll with the punches
Because I'm no where near done yet
Just one more cycle of sun rise and sun set

Would you rather be a has-been or a never-was?
Authentic booing or half hearted bogus applause?  
Juggling juxtaposition and pulverizing paradox
Opening eyes and dropping jaws

I write for the eccentric and excluded
The ones who know life doesn't have instruction included
The agitators, aggravators
Trouble making perpetrators
The ones high in the sky yet still down to earth, the least common denominators
The imaginative innovation of evolved revolutionaries
And the intuitive message they all carry
I'm inspired by the ones who came before me
Ginsberg, Morrison, Dylan and Cassady
Shakespeare, Fitzgerald and Lennon all influence me
To write and have my name along with theirs on someone's shelf
That's why I'm here everyday writing away to make a name for myself
I'm after the Holy Grail
Na, not a Pulitzer or Nobel
But moment someone tells you, "Hey man I love your stuff"
That right there is enough for me
To know people would take the time to read what I put out
Then without a doubt
I'd know I took the right route
And they all love what I write about
Life, death and everything in between
Sick subhumans and saddened circus clowns
We're all here to see the tides change and the tables turn
There is no turning back now
Sorry if it's too loud
All you can do is kneel and bow
Just wait for it all to change
Keep your confidence up but your ego down
Life is round , the earth is round
It isn't flat and new land's been found
I claim it in my name
And in the name of the game
The game that you we're never even a player in
So don't make a sound, just watch me win

Would you rather be an unknown or a memory?
To live a life of fame or infamy?
To die heroic or live villainy
The subject of a biographic documentary
Remembered for centuries upon centuries

You're good but I'm the greatest
Your're over rated but I'm the highness anticipated awaited
You're on the wait-list, I'm on the A-list
I'm on the tip of everyone's tongue on a daily basis
You keep yourself on repeat on the lamest playlist
So press pause and listen to my words so heinous
Your head is so vacant you haven't got the faintest idea what I'm saying
You're tasteless and I don't care if I'm hated
You play it safe and I like to make bold statements and live dangerous
And I can use my abilities to either trash you or slash you
But I just wanna aid a few of our brothers and sisters
To enlightenment so they can see the bigger picture
And expel all the ******* behind-the-back whispers
Been walking on eggshells and tip toeing around broken glass so long I got blisters
**** the Benedict Arnold's, Judases and *** kissers
Kiss them all good bye
As we blow the whole bunch of 'em sky high
Oh my is that a threat?
Na but you bet it's a ******* promise
Pay homage to Dylan Thomas
And have a drink to him
Until the whole room spins
And we witness the after affects of 9/11
I still don't understand how we got to Iraq if t was Afghanistan
Eh, whatever nevermind I don't want to get into that rant again
But I will give you some food for thought
That you ought to be eating
Why is it people are meeting life with such opposition
It's because we are taught to combat it with these fix positions
Well I've got new and improved fool proof fire power new way
And I'm about to press ignition
I'm refurbished, recondition out of remission
Learn don't live in the past
No looking back live in the now
Don't worry about tomorrow it'll all work out
The Trayvon Martin and George Zimmerman case
Isn't about gun laws or even race
It's about the morals and values no one cares to save
The sooner we all realize that the sooner we can have better days

Oh wait I feel spurt of verbal diarrhea about to take place
This is coming from me to you, the fact of the matter is you're through
I'm impervious, immune and merciless
Murderous, your nervousness, you're subservient and worthless
I'm losing my patience with you, I'll try to make this painless
You're going outta here nameless as the whole crowd goes zero gravity weightless
Because I'm a pile driving, stylizing craftsmen of words
And you missed your turn, get burned never return
I write so ridiculous
You write conspicuous
I'm am limitless
They think I'm frivolous and have a bad attitude
They just envious of my monumental aptitude
Its not writing it's typing
Clickty clack clack just like Kerouac
I won't take it back that's just the way I attack literature
I have a big vocabulary, I like onomatopoeia not a big fan of nomenclature  
I put myself in every poem
In every verse or stanza
In every line and word
From storytelling to dispelling propaganda
As for you I don't know
I guess ****** was all she wrote
I got my back tot he ropes
I take e'm and make a noose
It was duck duck goose now you lose
You lost out to a lower class *** head
A brain dead writers who straight outta special ed.
But look how much of my work has been read
No more need be said
I'm ahead of my time and miles a head of you
I got time to stop for a drink
And a trip to the edge of reason to the brink
Then come back again and I'll still be ahead and on top
What you go?t Nothing
Stop bluffing
I'm huffing pure creativity
I listen to the voices inside of me
Telling me to end this quick
And I agree it's time to cut this session short
I think that's the long and short of it
I'm boss and you're a lost cause
You may be the Lion of Zion
Or even Titan of the Horizon
But when we're both gone
You'll be some guy who wrote
And I'll be an Icon

Is it a mountain range?
I think that’s strange
To start in the plains
Through the foothills and rains
Over streams and lakes to bulky terrains

Up and down, and up a bigger one still
It starts as a game, one big thrill
The valleys are sweet and the peaks high
How high could they get? To the sky?
Maybe high enough that you can fly!

What’s on the other side? More plains perhaps?
Or maybe an ocean, with breaking white caps?
No one’s ever made it so we’ll just have to guess
Some say at one point the height is much less
But that’s not firsthand information, so I digress

The path is strewn with bodies whose stamina wore out
But signs on their necks read, “This is what it’s all about!”
You can’t know what that means until it happens to you
When you’ve shattered your dreams, and your legs feel it too
But you’ll miss these people who tread paths for such few

Perhaps you’ll find where the peaks get a little lower
You won’t find it by resting, push on! Upward and over!
There’ll be bruises and scratches aplenty for sure
For this wondrous disease there is no known cure
The majesty of the mountains is a deadly lure

So many have tried to reach the other side
They’ve sweat and they’ve bled, they’ve fallen and cried
But to stop is to go mad with curiosity and thought
About what lays beyond, what the dead have sought
So we climb and we climb, even if all for naught

Then we find that perhaps it’s not been worth doing
Were it a play we’d probably be booing
Then we think of the foothills, of much simpler days
When the son shone blinding and we danced in his rays
And we wonder if there was a pass we’d missed on our ways

All the while climbing to the end of our days
As the sun starts to dim but casts a dark haze
And we wished we had enjoyed the peaks
Climbing and climbing for thousands of weeks
And then a slight rose comes to our cheeks

We lie down for a moment and softly cry
Take one final look at the blueblack sky
Then sit up straight, nice and stout
Confidently moving, no shadows of doubt
And don on our necks, “This is what it’s all about!”

an earlier draft of this barely satisfactory missive ex post facto, i chomped asper with upper dentures upon evincing a couple of typographical errors, in up rye or draft, and did not wanna dodge being a spell bound stickler for typing words correctly.

though no obligation to trot out this fixation sans zero misspelling tolerance, a compulsion with any concomitant obsession found me reposting before a repast of dessert - so there Ghost of Marie Antoinette, wherever you might be hiding - i can have my cake and eat it too!

Minus trimmings and over stuffed ego freezers,
but altruism, civility, Dharma *** ethnocentrism,
gratuitous homogeneous internationalism,
karma mosaic opportunism, quitessential righteousness,
unpretentious vivacious wide world yipping,

brouhaha dutifully emphasizing friendliness,
antithetically booing critical, popularly pugnacious
spoiled trump petting uber western yikyak,
zealous antipathy craving everything.
---------------------------------------------------------
a hypothetical, mental, rhetorical thought question
   occurred to me just moments ago
sans, milk of human kindness bubbles frothily
   upon major American holiday,

   whereat figurative bro
   thar and sisters exhibit philanthropic ambitions
   especially, towards indigent that crow
for bare necessities

   other than
   when Thanksgiving rolls around, and dough
nuts to dollars even most frugal misanthropes
   play feigned charitable card egoistically glow
with ambient benevolence, civility,
   diligent energy, and friendly hello

and sundry pleasant greetings
   hook hood be some
   soon tubby rich entrepreneurial stranger
   ready to make shares available vis a vis  IPO

   to dirt poor anonymous guarillas G.I. Jane or G.I. Joe
   who cross paths with each other,
   even those one doth not know
when ordinary biases, callousness,

   denigration...doth full low
out the mouths of hoity toity MainLiners
   towards working class people - mow
awe less trying to remain financially afloat,
   and with plea for handout
   would receive an emphatic NO!

Thee exception to unspoken aristocratic rule
   arising on feted buzz
   feed ding occasions where oboe
players invoke cobra to deliver riches galore to the 'po

whom sincerely show gratitutde,
   yet wonder why status quo
reserves select calendrical dates for handouts
   proffered after standing in a row
of similarly bereft individuals aware at stark

   outpouring overt nurture minded, humanity
   (with perchance a guest appearance by Sean Hannity),
this public denouement,
   an atypical venue for his television show

where generosity spills forth
   from said personality and others alike
blithely, demonstrably, fortuitously, happily,
   jubilantly, lovingly, modestly, poignantly,
   where an announcer speaks thru a mike

to open their doors and hearts asper,
   those down and out
   pushing belongings along the pea king pike
of broken tureens with
   only a mangy dog as companionship,

and though I admit tubby hyperbolical,
   hypocritical, hypothetical hypoteneuse of hippopotamus
   no charity less valuable then self and spouse,
   whom both experience spike
in anxiety since net income purportedly
   below the poverty level, though we reside

   within subsidized housing (outliers
   here at 2 Highland Manor Drive),
   yet random acts of an effortless smile,
   cordial greeting to passersby, or
   waving fellow drivers right of way,
Page Number Three:

such minimally polite services today,
the most within my limited monetary hi say
means, which behavior aye strive ray
   dee to maintain zero cost politesse, which doth pay
highest dividends, which reciprocal acknowledge may
be the greatest reward,

   whether or not a response elicited tis quite o kay
the satisfaction arising breeching comfort zone
   viz exposure therapy lighting up gray
matter analogous to a cerebral Christmas tree
   and any regret avoided, asper congenial efforts    
   generate “hi” kickstarts my day.

Running
Through the forest
Running
Through the trees
Ducking & weaving
Through the bushes
Crunching on
The autumn leaves

I hide
Behind a log
Quiet
As can be!
“Shhhh”


“Don’t tell anyone
I am here!”
“I am playing
'Hide – And – Seek'
“I don’t want the boys
To find me!”

I giggle mischievously
Peek – a – booing
Through the bushes
Just
For a second
To see
If
Those silly boys
Have
Followed me here!

“Nope”
“Coast is clear!”
“Yaaay!"
“Nobody can find me!”
“Nobody but me!”
“BOO!!!”
I get pounced on!
Smothered in boys kisses
“Oh no, too late!”
“That rascal
Johnny Little
Found me!”
I push him off
Giggling
Brushing off the dirt
From
My
Pretty little, flower dress
So
Mummy
Doesn't
Tell me off, again!

I run back home
As fast as I can!
The cool breeze
Against my face
Blowing
Through my leafy, blonde hair

Arriving home
Racing through
The screen door
Just in time
For dinner!
“Yum Mum!”
“I’m hungry!”

Tock.
The voice in white faded within those last words.
Did you realize then, truly, that not only sticks and stones hurt?
As those words dragged you into the depth of its gravity, as they transformed into a constant reminder, within your shadow, as an echo.
An echo that shall linger in your ears drumming…
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

No.
Deny!
Who are you lying to?
Tell me
That’s right you cant
Because it’s yourself
And did those seconds become the third helping of a bite you never wanted to taste? Not only is that pill tough to swallow, but also that pill was hollow.
A time bomb, exploding those seconds away. That hollowness clutching within its womb; only silence and sad music to soothe your existence. Those seconds that you now want back, that were so dismissively spent on a bad moment.


Where is it gone?
It only just started
You orphaned by life, still existing, a memory waiting to happen.
And yet is still hasn’t happened
And it wont
Maybe I'm wasting my young years
Maybe I'm wasting my young tears
Maybe I'm not.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
The seconds keep ticking
They keep ticking. They keep going. But where?
Too late, they’re gone
They are planted deep in your mind a constant reminder you are not using them well
What does this do?
Causes you-urges you to use them even worse
Because what’s the worst thing you can do?
Come on you know this one…
Nothing.

Tick.
Eventually it hits you, like a bad memory.
No like the feeling you get deep in your stomach when you are about to fall
Those few seconds in the air
But s l o w e r
For minutes
For days
For years
The white voice weighed down by the words it uttered to countless similar souls, has simmered inside you, condensed and made a depression in you.

Why you?
You didn’t ask for this!
And yet you still got it.
Maybe its because you didn’t ask at all
Maybe that’s because you cant
You are the only one going through this
People surround you, who are continuing life. Continuing life to reclaim a little sanity you lost months ago

What is sanity?
san-it-y |ˈsanitē|
noun
The ability to think and behave in a normal and rational manner; sound mental health.
What is rational?
This?
You hear it now. Slow. Steady. And Loud. And Wise.
Did time become the definition of life?
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I know you hate the truth
Like it’s all splayed and waiting
Wait.
What is the truth?
I can’t tell you
Because you don’t know
Confusion and perplexity have propagated in your mind
In every tear you shed
In every cell in every nail you bite
Answer me!
You’re the only one who contemplates a typo in a love letter
Watches out for the solitary man booing in an interminable horde of supporters.

Just go to sleep.
You’re tired
Are you?
Did ‘you’re tired’ become the embodiment of futility that harbors ‘could’ve, would’ve, should’ve
Trying to settle in as a memory of the future
Waiting to be regretted
Stop!
Why are you consoling yourself?
Because it’s easier than fallacious merriment?
Because it feels desirable?
Because no one else will.
Tick.

Grow and die,
like small traces of a lingering thought,
singing to the sound of static,
and lo' my sweetheart grows ever so fair,
growing and dyin' like that thought in the air,
*****, nobody asked for a selfish opinion,
don't ask to know something when you're not up to listen,
but, I'll tell you darlin' I've had better days,
Dodging each question with a "Yes, it's okay."
and please don't cry upon the bathroom floor,
whispering obscenities to yourself, behind closed doors,
More make up, more acting, more stunt men for hire,
You won't get by no one without being a liar.
Belting out love songs, for the proper reaction,
but the crowd won't stop booing and crying for action.
so offer your head, upon a silver platter,
dress it up nicely,
because nothing else matters.

rarely do you get a chance to remember such a trivial
affair, as a football match,
call it telepathy or whatever,
   but when poland was playing against israel,
in warsaw, and the israeli anthem came on first,
and there was the initial booing...
   which subsequently hushed down?
         sure as **** casimir III wasn't available...
my only critique of the english?
they don't really understand jews...
          from under the iron curtain:
to under the silicon curtain...
   the left of the west is not the left associated
with the eastern block:
it's unrecognißable...
       far from it... it's unworkable...
                     where is the grey suited soviet
special committee including the KGB?
nowhere!
    but the boos faded away rather quickly...
i liked that...
                    after all, most of the israelis
these days look like the sort of
     mediterranean folk you find in greece,
lebanon, sicily, libya...
   they don't look your stereotypical
hebrew orthodox jews of eastern europe...
they have finally become reunited with
their natural tan...
                                 2000 years will do that
to you, integrating, diluting the blood,
up north... yo! hibbie, you're as pale as a ghost!
better get a tan on that tapestry of skin!
- but the english don't really understand jews...
it's not like they were hiding in Poland
all this time, but they were,
they tried the Netherlands, Spinoza:
disgraced... they tried England: i'm pretty sure
they were ejected: once upon a time...
but let's not read into a historical rubric
of events... yes, the norsemen discovered
h'america long before christoph coal'umb'bus
did...
       what's there to wrestle with?
well... my jewish neighbour came into my house
today, neurotic (like any heb- / ***)
about her cat: bella...
      a white spider-cat:
    how this cat managed to end up on the roof
with the chimneys, i will never know,
white like snow, heterochromic...
         genetics has sentenced her to a "premature"
death, along with the pedigrees...
because she is white-fur...
                  anyway...
   she asked me: are you still into
the jewish ****? i shaved my head not not
so long ago, she comes in and says:
you're like my son joseph,
you're alike, both of you don't trust barbers...
you look like someone out of auschwitz:
although better fed...
             it's nice to share a joke with a heb- / ***...
she told me to not read the talmud...
i said: but i'm not a "convert"...
i would never read a script of the religously abiding...
i might be a lunatic to some extent,
but not the sort of lunatic to the extent
of gesticulating to blanks...
  so i said: yes, the qabbalah,
the mysticism of judaism is hasn't waned...
i still read it...
     and i do...
        the one book i have on qabbalah was
lived past its u.b.d. (use by date)...
it just keeps giving...
            it's the only source of knowledge
i've truly taken seriously... and i will slander,
**** ***** **** all i want...
but... i have one rule...
   i will not utter the tetragrammaton...
i figured... well: there's sauron...
           there's voldemort...
                        do not invoke the name
of the lord in vain...
                  well... there's your answer...

i could never buy into the christian
poetic variant of cannibalism,
      isn't it cannibalism?
           at a catholic high school,
   when everyone was being reared into
the catholic bureucracy of the rite of confirmation,
i refused when i started reading the gnostic:
to hell with a church wedding...

   mind you, the hebrews already have a trinity
in place, unlike the christian pagan profanity
of a body hanging on the cross,
very much akin to the norse god Loki
sitting in a tree...
    'thou shall not bow before any graven image'
well...
  the hebrews have two very specific nouns
for the all encompassing noun:
which i will not say, ever:

   ha-shem (the name)

                                              tetragrammat­on
                                (the four lettered word)

               interject the latin grapheme Æ,
the union of Adam and Eve if you mind
to know the way of wisdom,
  wisdom? yah... in the sefirot alt. named
chokhmah...

mind you, i only spotted this today,
you know how hebrews treat their vowels
akin to niqab beings...
they "hide" them?
       oh they hide them, very much akin
to diacritical markers,
but unlike a ż-aba (frog, in slavic -
               der überpunkt)
or tematyką (thematic of) -
         slightly different...
             slightly different hiding
vowel or consonant distinctions,
from... hiding the vowels in totem...
    imagine my "bewilderment" when
the greco-prefix rule was applied,
hovering over the hebrew letters א (αλεθ /
                        αλεφ... ****... no F / ᚠ
in either language... just the grapheme
          ᚦ.... but unlike a classical grapheme...
not a siamese akin to æ...
   very much akin to modern western
slavic... in ******: sz [š], cz [č], rz [ż])...
      and              ע (ayin) and no iota in hebrew
either...  with     צ (tsade) resembling
                      ψ (psi)...
                                 about the etomology of slav,
as someone pointed out:
that slavs denotes the etymological root:
slave, that slavs were slaves in medieval europe...
oh, you mean the balkan slavs?
the ones who experienced ancient rome?
rome never made it to Poland,
to Pomeranian Germany... vikings founded
Kiev...
               the ****-****** vikings of
such beauty as would require another
nose stereotype drifting away from the jewish /
roman nose... but hey... that's life...

see, i like these hebrai complications...
every time i pick up a book on qabbalah
i'm in kamikaze mode... i can spew all day...
i'm most interested in their treatment
of the vowels...
  did you know that the hebrai
  have sometimes two nouns associated
with a vowel?
        look at me, latin inherent,
syllable mendeleev castrato...
i don't have a name for any letter in latin!
ah... A... b': B... c': C... d': D...
               p'p'p'p: ***... that's really taking a ****...
once advantage?
             a good chance of a global
success of a fireside kumbaya...
        big deal... half-baked sing-alongs
is one thing: a world of ideas, another...
if i operate within a framework,
where no letter, has a name...
akin to the greek: A is for alpha...
                        B is for beta etc.,
   then what the **** are we talking about?

at least this:
                  i've just learned that my female cat
is sensitive to the sight of human genitals...
she's sitting on a windowsill one minute,
jumps off it the next...
         when she sees my genitals urinating
into the toilet...         hell...
                      now i have to cover my phallus
******* into the wishing well
            with one holding the aim "button" and
the other blocking her view of it... ugh...

watching the t.v. of making polish dumplings,
garnished with olive oil having fried
unsmoked bacon and onion to a crisp?
well... unless it's a show about my year of
birth, 1986, chernobyl, probably the latter...
life's too easy these days...
                  it makes no sense with women:
lounging...
                    back in the days with
no washing mashines, refrigerators,
             irons, food processors,
  ready-made-meals,
               etc. etc., vegetating,
                      when women were as important
at home, as men were important in the world...
lounging, vegetating, lounging,
vegetating,
   there's hardly a solance in a comfort,
when it has become nothing more than
a complacency... an irritation...

           oh but i will still listen to crusader
hymns, french, german and esp.
in latin...
         even while i celebrate hebrai mysticism...
i'm not exactly going to conscript myself
to a dervish spin-in-the-middle
and pretend no one notices me ****-load
of attention...
   i'd conquer the ottoman capital
on a whim of taking a **** in the middle
of ot!

          the slavs that were considered slaves
in the medieval period? i'm guessing
these germanic hard-ons are referring
to the balkan slavs..

    beside the point...
did i mention that the hebrai
     (i'm not owen benjamin -
what a nice jewish surname,
small hats? what about the christian
monk tonsure pseudo-imitation?)
      second name for their pentagram?

                              A - kametz

E - tzeré                                                I - chirek




            O - cholem                   U - shurek

Al-ef (a)
            b-Et (e)
                 gI-mel (i)
                 yO-d (o)
                             n-Un (u)

the hebrai do not follow the prefix rules
of the greeks...
     did the hebrai conspire with the greeks
to overthrow the romans?
yep...
      i'm not discussing this, i never will...
it's like gravity to me...
the greeks would never forgive the romans
invading them...
    like at edinburgh university,
i met one greek...
     Istambul was still Constantinople
to him... enough said...

but there are other names to the vowels
already stated... when the tetragrammaton
interacts / enters the sefirot...
the "other" ten commandments...

          when the tetragrammaton
assocites itself with the crown (keter)...
     A remains kametz...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with chokhmah (wisdom) /
yah... what was once kametz,
becomes: patach...

         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with understanding (binah)...
           E remains tzeré...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with love (chesed) / el...
what was once tzeré,
   becomes: segol...
  
         when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with foundation (yesod)...
           U remains shurek...
but... when the tetragrammaton
associates itself with splendour (hod) /
                     elohim tzevaot...
what was once shurek,
                      becomes: kibbutz...

what are the remaining vowels?
            chirek (i) within netzach (vistory),
cholem (o) within tiferet (beauty)...
        the tetragrammaton itself...
  or... look to the heavnely orbs...
    and yet they keep on spinning and orbiting
their settled commands...

   but...
        but...
             a sixth vowel can be excavated from
the hebrai...
                  from the sefirot branch: gevurah,
strength, the vowel that resembles
what the two consonant-vowels (א aleph
and ע yin) already looked like to me...
     the consonant-vowel י (yod), ',
         otherwise known as sheva.

   so there is a 6th vowel in hebrai...
as there are two vowels posing as consonants!

again, at this point, me converting to
islam is... ha ha!
never mind, every time i talked to a muslim,
in public, as stranger to stranger...
the feeling of: conversation...
soon turned to a feeling of conversion...
so...
          i came to the hebrews of my own
accord...
      am i a monotheist?
   i shouldn't think so, since i'm not circumcised...
i like the idea of *******,
allows me to ******* once a day
without feeling guilty of needing
to light up scented candles in a comfortable chair...

of sure, when circumcised: it's probably
disgusting even imagining a man *******...
but... m'ah ******* still attached?
what's wrong with a ******* a web-cam
making a buck and me joining in?
that's the only decent ******* these days
to begin with...
   that's like: counter the ******...
either that, or fine art.

   oh i still "think" the other gods exist,
but i'm pretty ******* sure they're not as
invested in linguistics at the hebrai god...
     i still call the tetragrammaton
the vowel-catcher...
                 and if this hebrai god is, "jealous"...
it's trolling...
    since all the other gods relieve themselves
with such primitive demands
as to make people carve graven images
of themselves...
the hebrai god simply said:
   write me something tangible,
and interesting!
   even the monotheistic god allah
has a ******* for mantras and repetition...
worhsipping him must eventually feel
like sitting in a high school detention after hours.
sorry...
   i'm siding with the hebs- / yids...
           well it's not like the ******* saudis are
about to side with the palestinians...
are they?!

___
and how many shadows, do you think
you'll be able to conjure,
in the night-time
      while passing the outer-urban
environment of lighting?

     i passed from conjuring just the one,
then two: one in front,
one to my side...

               then came three...
one in front,
         one to the side,
                                and one behind me...

but the crescendo of the congregation
came when i turned into an alley...
six shadows...

             note...
     are hallucinations not of the same
substance, as shadows?
      well...
             given that...
i've never taken psychadelic drugs...
but fooled by
the english strand of marijuana:
skunk...
         the chemically infused ****...

i have a vague recollection
   of a guy who smoked this stuff...
story goes...
              he chopped off his
testicles, then killed his mother...
   the father filed a petition
to parliament, more like:
              speaking braille to a deaf
person...
               could have done
more with morse code...
                     but i even doubt that...

conundrum,
        one candle in tow,
             but there were 6 shadows
in an outer-urban environment...
     which one will i be talking to then?

could there possibly be more?
7 is a nice number...
              and also a nice letter: Γ
                                                    α   a
                                                    μ  m
      ­                                              μ  m
              ­                                      α   a
and the epitome of having
arrived at...
              beyond prayer,
  beyond soliloquy,
         beyond talking to one's shadow...
a moment, beyond a soothing
                                epiphany,
and esp. beyond an eureka...
             more... akin to...
   an informal existential epitome...
    or an                       草
               /              sō
       beside the religiosity
of ******* up,
     and the atheistic outright
slandering...

forget doing the 5th tier of bowing
like a muslim in prayer...
because of "what i want"...
or whatever crap that involves...
it still bewilders me...
   why would you need something
akin to the great wall of china,
when the phonetic encoding
                    is already a bastille?

        well... if "god" is associated
with delusion...
               what's the difference
between a delusion and a belief?
delusions don't possess convictions
of that translate themselves
into a fathomable will...
          delusions are...
                    a plethora of doubt(s)...
      imagine that...
grew up in an english society
with so many, many secular sensibilities...

and yet... all these problems...
   i'm going to the next sand-pit
with my bucket and *****...
      after all...
    Kant wasn't an atheist...
all the classical (anything outside
of the 20th is classical)
  philosopher had a grain
of sensibility concerning this:
  faux pas topic.

Between the dust of mulberry bend
Sat seven little men
Each one had a whistle that they had carved out of enchanted wood
And the sound that came out of them made the air become filled with enchantment

And magical things would appear as though like snake charmers

And so one silent evening as the dew met the grass
A rabbit hopped out,

Yes I said a rabbit
Why is it that you are now doubting me
For do I not hold this pen of mine?

And so this rabbit was so unusual because he had three eyes and he did not hop
He skipped and he had a jump rope,

And so out came those seven little men and they wanted that rabbit to be gone

And so they each picked up their whistle and out came that sound that scared that poor little rabbit into jumping right out of that magical place that he had fallen inside of,

And to this day those rabbits are known as jumping jack rabbits

And I heard you all booing away at this short little made up story

And hey you!
Why did you just toss my book away?
jo.

Sometimes I hate
It when I woke up late

The first thing I know
Looking out the window

All I can say is wow
It's show time now

Pigeons impatiently
So crooing booing me

High on rooftops wait
I hate waking up late

Some worst neighborhood is this
Lucky people draw no attention
They woooooooooooooooooooo
They rise, and
Woooooooooooooooooooooooo
Kind words to describe my love
Kindness they enchanted in ears
Love for one reason, couldn't be
More suitable to the wooing crowd
They will retain reasons to forge
Death out of lives don't matter at all

Still, they boooooooooooooooo
Blessed are these creatures, dumb
Affectionate and passionate lust
They scream cry and laugh at times
Admire, the boooooooooooooo
To beat the mass in genocide
Life has short hints that hurts more
More than their booing in the light
They die at the very end of dark

Yesterday, there was a cloud and the cloud was turning
Today there were more, and the ounce kept burning
Some bar in Hamburg and dreams of punching Atatürk
The sister wasn't ****, no paper, seven X's
It wasn't a good time, it was a shoddy paper bar
The redneck ******* was the one who turned a star
But oh no
An axolotl with the body of a flying serpent
This is urgent, a full body of the color verdant
Learning the choreography of a murderer of burdens
The static and manic idiosyncracy of skin men
The bodies of three legends accounted to ten
But there was no reception or action back then
But who knows?
The calling of a tender serving drinks to no end
Many friends to attend to and mend the hearts
There were children who drank like worrywarts
And the shortened query of lines was eerie
Peering, they're steering like he was hearing
Some sudden tale of questionable origins in there

The fact that it's all the same **** with no name
Makes it the same old hat, the same old game
A dream of millenia ago when there was no fame
The only person booing was some swollen lame

But it's life and life is strange
How do you change the way you change the way you feel
Rotted brains that don't feel no feel, they steal
But time heals, so time equals no wounds and that's why
Why they wish to live forever on a never-ending ******
But then comes Life-ender, the scythe, ember, mender
And it's all over, no one's sober on this Rolls Royce
Range Rover, said Herbert Hoover the awful goober
And now it's all **** and there stood the stooge
A fool made of reed and a tool made of keys
But what for were keys when there's no doors in need
No trusty steed to ask for the **** or mead
Who knew that life would be so hard indeed
It's that two story fall that doesn't ****
It made them fall ill and lie still for a fill
Of this endless bucket made of Kengo's will
There was a silhuetto of a rusted stilleto
It was well kept like Velcro in a safe or the pocket
Of the dog from Kesto, that *******, he pictured it
Some poor animal and made it sit on the cover forever
That made it sever from reality and come back never
But that's a tale for another lever to pull
Or the fool with another drink in their hands
And a bit of food, delightfully canned or a machine
That was manned by a man who was made of sand
All there's left is a question I've always had
What if I was the cloud, and the cloud was dead?

the democratic convention under the deck
———————————————————


all kinds have registered their displeasure
with the arrival of the human menagerie,
their boisterous ways, jive not with the quietus
of the island paradise, and under the shady deck
where the convention conversations are held...

open to all but the factions forming, squirrels most
populous, demand the gavel and the chairmanships,
because they breed best, knowledges of the yard
terrain, par excellent, have climbed every tree,
show no fear, boldly jumping on the chaise lounge
occupant by the lady of the house, quizzing her with a
side-tilted glance of what are YOU doing here????

they like their acorns from the Oaks, their fav poem
Acorns in August, naturellement, naturellement,
leaving the beheaded remains of the acorns devoured,
everywhere, to obtain maximum annoyance from them
interlopers human, delighting in the foul mouthed exclamations,
when their ugly footed bottoms, unshod, meet the pointy part,
proving squirrels natural ability to govern the swap infected
by the two legged in-cursors, who have annoyed for forty years...

the rabbits, seek alliances, they live full time neath the deck,
making babies, so cute, getting bolder as they get older, hopping
unashamedly across the deck, eliciting oohs and has, of the children,
who blissfully unaware, all this creatures carry the ticks of Old Lyme.
Though unnumbered, the rabbits, fat, throw their heft around,
promising to drain the backyard of the invading hordes, with their
smelly sun tan lotions and outrageously ugly bathing towels...

called to order by the light of the flickering television, a fire signal
that the humans are in for the night, won’t notice the shouting and
shoving not so cute, tween the factions.  Animals behaving like
humans, what a lowly sad sight, deals and promises made, give
me a hundred Likes, ten repostings, and five 😊, say the hedgehog,
who rarely appears but boy is he big and has capital to lend to anybody
who will give him what he wants...

the field mice, have little-power, their diminutive constituency, not
so useful, as they no longer make the female humans, shriek, nah,
now they are cute, until they chew the wires in the basement, and
hide their tennis socks in spidery corners where they leave them to
yellow, corrode, unravel, unfit for human footage anymore;
and while these weakfish of the under-deck, their longevity of encroachment must be respected for they have been since time immemorial, which nobody remembers exactly how long that is exactly...

called to order, resolution on the floor, who shall lead the charge,
plan the plan to drain away the inhuman interference for once and
forevermore; but the conventional dialogue interruptus,  by an unfamiliar voice: a scouting party sent, like the spies of the Israelites, fails to return, another party formed and returns, with woeful news, of a white van truck,stenciled in black death,
                 The East End Pest Company (Exterminators)
has been invited in, and sadly nobody of the animal world has in their possess, a dictionary or vocabulary so large that the word, exterminate, strikes a note of danger!

the booing and brawling silenced, the political skullduggery is replaced
by the sad quietude, until the insect kingdom returns to reclaim the lands,
they were driven from many decades earlier, and they big human eavesdroppers, well, they know that word well and won’t make the same mistake twice! but then from above, between a crack, come a tumbling a business, white, from the deck o the below deck, in hand upon the back write these words:

See ya next week!
We leave your property
as clear as our conscience


p.s. for security reasons, conventions are held now every four years,
the location unrevealed, until, the very last minute

I wouldn’t pinch
Not **** or slap
No sucker punch or idle tap
No tipping cows
No booing geese
Or folding frogs until they crease
No splatting bugs
Or spraying flies
No salting slugs into demise
But mess with my dog and I’ll tear your ******* arms off

**

Fans from both sides
Yelling at the referees,
Telling them how to do their job.
I wanted to defend the referees right
There.
But then I thought, "How could I plead my case
Regarding a sport that most of the audience knows
Better than I do?"
I rested my case in my head.
Even the coaches were mocking
How they could make better calls
And how many the referees missed.
I guess that's why my dad and brother
Didn't give a **** about the tension.
They've seen tension not only from me
In the family,
But they have an awareness of sports
That my experience cannot contest.

I have thin skin, I can't let these situations slide.
I couldn't be in an arena
Where every fan was booing the officials.
I had to leave; my hands are still marked with
The filth of unsportsmanlike conduct
On every animate being.
Sure no sport can come clean,
And everyone in my family and most outside my house
Had to remind me in basketball, piano, football,
That it's "just a game."

I left this so-called game early.
I wasn't really rooting for any team;
I don't even think I was watching a real game.

A swarm of blue and white
Shot-putters hurdlers sprinters javelins long and high jumpers
Congregate before esteemed guests whom the PTA did invite
To secretly scoff at losers and worship winners.

Not quick or strong,
All I could do was jump high.
Alwyn came in stone last in the cross country after long.
Poor chap – their sneering and booing made him cry.

Soon after, it was my turn,.
Third jump – down went the pole.
Alas! – one corner poked me in the back. The pain, the burn!
Need something sweet for the shock, like a Swiss roll.

Into the common room I went,
Where smoky, limp athletes unwound with a movie.
There I encountered three foes infernally-sent.
Alwyn was among them – out to get me.

“Why are you crying?” one goon prodded.
“I got hurt by a pole,” was all I could muster.
At this, Alwyn’s raucous laughter erupted and exploded.
One day I’ll get you, buster.

Didn’t you cry moments ago when they sneered at you?
So, your solution is to do as the Romans do?

Psstt...
*** bim bam
Rawr roar ruwr

Beep boop biip
Bzz booing bssst

There’s a whisper
“You’re weak, disgrace, a failure”
Von Gogh ?
Tesla ?
Napoleon ?

Wondering...
I finally understand
I really do
Maybe its true

We were really dead when no ones remember us even blood still flows in our body