Even the sun-clouds this morning cannot manage such skirts.
Nor the woman in the ambulance
Whose red heart blooms through her coat so astoundingly ----

A gift, a love gift
Utterly unasked for
By a sky

Palely and flamily
Igniting its carbon monoxides, by eyes
Dulled to a halt under bowlers.

O my God, what am I
That these late mouths should cry open
In a forest of frost, in a dawn of cornflowers.

There are only two ways to truly know someone: sleep with them or take them bowling.
Phoenix Aime was the woman of my dreams. So, I took her bowling.

Paid for a game. Rented shoes. Got the little, sticky bracelet thingy that said Slippery Joe Lanes.
That way if we got in some sort of accident on the way home,
the guy at the morgue could identify us as bowlers. Anyway, here's the bulleted list of what I knew about Phoenix up to that point:

• She looked like Diane Keaton circa 1972
• She talked with great pretension concerning craft beer
• She only patronized two restaurants: Denny's and IHOP
• She was eight years older than me
• She kissed my sister once on a dare
• Her shoe size was 7
• She was perfect or a near synonym

The bowling alley was empty save a World War II vet in a wheelchair and his wife at lane six,
and they were barely there. Country music played over the loud speaker. And I felt cozy. Predictable. Like a payment plan on the QVC.

That was until Phoenix said, "I forgot something. I'm going to go talk to Mack real quick."
Mack worked the front desk, according to his name tag. Talk to Mack. She just talked to Mack. Mack was sleeping with her. I untied my shoelaces. Oh, Mack, love your red polo with blue tiger stripes.
I pulled my sneakers off. Oh, Mack, I love it when you dip your finger in nacho cheese and feed it to me. Slid my right foot into bowling shoe. Halfway in with the left, and my socked foot struck something plastic. A stick of tiny deodorant. Like unsavory truck-stop-to-truck-stop deodorant. Oh, Mack, I love it when you deodorize -- so hard. Pull the strings tight on the left shoe. Oh, Mack, rub the deodorant until your underarms are SO CHALKY AND WHITE.

"You okay?" Phoenix asked.

"Yeah, what do I look like something's wrong?"

She carried a seafoam green bowling ball with a ****** Mary insignia. "It looks like you triple-knotted your shoes there."

And I said something dumb like, better safe than sorry.

"Sorry about leaving you all alone. Mack holds onto my ***** for me," she said.  I bet he does. "I hate talking to that guy." What? "He's a vegan."

Now, at that time in my life, I was a vegan. And had planned some stirring remarks about the processing of sweet little piggies into cancerous hot dog machines on the way to pick her up. Thought she would think me full of passion, "on fire" for a cause, you know? The wise thing would have been to say, oh well, I'm a vegan. But instead I asked, "What do you mean?"

"You know serial killer's get a last meal before they're executed, right?"

"Right." Where the hell is this going?

"Well, have you ever heard of someone on death row requesting a last meal that didn't involve some sort of animal product? Gacy had buckets of chicken, Bundy had a medium rare steak, even uh, ****, what was his name, McVeigh, Timothy McVeigh he had two pints of mint chocolate ice cream. Dairy."

"I'm not sure how this refutes veganism."

"Nobody is a vegan for their last meal. Nobody. I'm not going to subscribe to a diet that I can't follow until the very end. Live every day like your last, that's my motto."

"That's your motto." I said. To be a great listener, just repeat the last three or four things anyone says to you and raise your eyebrows a little bit. (Examples: "My dog died." -- "You're dog died.", "I never ate breakfast burritos again." -- "Never ate it again.", "I love you." -- "You love me.")

Over Phoenix's shoulder, over by lane six, the wife wheeled the World War II vet up to the lane. And he tossed the ball. Good team, I thought. Want to know someone take them to the bowling alley.

Phoenix removed a glove from her pocket. She had her own ball. Brought her own badass, jet black bowling gloves. And if her carnivorous tendencies hadn't already put a ***** in the Golden Days of Josh and Phoenix, that glove did.

She typed her name first on the scoring computer. Didn't ask if I wanted to go first. That's fine. Approached the lane, three fingers inside the ****** Mary. She brought her bony arm back with the grace of a ballerina tucked away stage right in the shadows. Mary cut from grace slid down the lane with a spin.

Strike. I couldn't really see the pins from my angle. But I recieved a transmission via the "yes" and arm pump. That was two marks against her, and I was going to three. I'd call it strikes, but well, the whole bowling skew.

Here's a bulleted list of what a "yes" and arm pump immediately taught me:

• She takes bowling serious.
• If you take bowling serious, when do you relax?
• She'd never relax.
• My life would be tucked shirts, matching belts and shoes.

For six frames, I picked up fours and sevens. Phoenix, though, nothing but strikes. I threw a gutter on frame seven. Like a normal human being, I shrugged. Made a face out the sides of my mouth. Kept it light.

"I thought you were a grown *** man," Phoenix said.

"Me too."

What happened next, I willed. I'm not god or anything like that. At the time, just cosmicly ******.
Her step stuttered. 7-10 split. "Mack!" she screamed. "Floors are slicker than a used car salesman's hair."

From across the alley,
"Sorry, Phoenix, baby. I'll bring you some nachos. That make up for it?"

"Ain't gonna knock down two pins is it?"

"So, uh, no nachos then?"

"Actually, go ahead and bring those."

She lined up. Back straight. Legs together. She rolled her neck. "You're about to see how it's done."

And I didn't. She broke it down the middle. Field goal. In that moment, that holy moment, I was knowledge plateau. Vindicated.

For about 10 seconds.

Mack swaggered over, nachos in hand. "Phoenix, sweetie, you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"No, that's why I asked."

"Just give me the nachos."

"Ah crap." Mack had gotten his pointer finger in the nacho cheese.

"Let me see it."

And right there, right in front the ****** Mary seafoam green bowling ball, she slurped the cheese off his finger."

Frame seven, a good as time as any to call it a match. The wife of the World War II vet kissed her husband's forehead. Handed him a ball. As I walked by, hand on shoulder. "Struck gold, dude."

Oh you may not think I’m pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There’s nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none)
For I’m a Thinking Cap!

Oh what a scene
Cricket being played on a field of green
Eleven players per team all dressed in whites
What a fabulous, glorious sight
Bowlers bowl, Batsmen bat
Umpires keep the score, was he out, "howzat"
Bowlers aim not too high, not too low
Bowlers bowl not too fast and not too slow
Batsmen notching up the runs
Receiving the ball at full speed, hitting the ball to the boundary for a four
If their lucky they will hit it for six, over the boundary bar
A coin is tossed for who bats first, the losing team defending
Six ***** per over, 50 overs per inning
Who scores the most is the team that is winning
A few rules to abide
Keep your leg to the side, dont get caught leg before wicket
Bowlers of pace, try to keep the ball away from the batsmans face
If you are caught out before you score, a duck will appear on the scoreboard
A century is of course one hundred runs, simply known as a ton
Then comes a break for afternoon tea, sandwiches and cakes all freshly baked
The second team step up to the mark
For this typically English game in the park
Families attend from far and wide to watch the battles of the two cricket sides
Battling it out on a field of green, halcyon days continuing

Some say it should go burn in hell
That the money leaves a really bad smell
  But hit and giggle
  Or **** and piddle
It's here to stay the IPL.

From countries far and wide
Come players with heaps of pride
  But if they fail
  You'll hear them wail
For there is not anywhere to hide

The cheques books come out
The auctioneers will shout
  Some Players get bought
  Some others get naught
The IPL now has such clout

The turn-styles are all in clamour
The Batsmen are using the hammer
  They go for the big six
  Bowlers try their new tricks
So cricket is married to glamour

Should cricket become this glam
When the ball is met with a blam
  hit way in the air
  didn't see you there
Sorry about that Maam!

There he was, Archibald Walker, like every mornin standin on the riverbank starin across the water as the sun began to rise.  He would just stand there with his lunch pal in one hand and that funny bowlers hat in the other.  That boy always had a big ol’ grin stretchin across his face from ear to ear.   Archibald Walker the third was actually his name.  A college boy from down south, he came from ol’ money.  You’da never knew though.  He came up here to escape he said.  I had always wondered why anyone in their right mind would give up money and education to come be a logger, but there was Archibald just starin across that river as happy as a peach.  I used to ask him what he learned down there in school and he would always reply the same way, “Good Jokes”.  I never could tell if he was being serious or if he just didn’t care too much to talk about it.  Archibald was real good at his job though for being a college boy.  Came in before everyone else and worked ten times as hard. Never did see him ***** up either.
He liked to keep to himself.  I was the only one he ever really talked to and even then he never talked about much.  Took me a year and a half just to figure out he was educated and from money.  I looked at that boy funny for a week after he told me that.  I was dumbfounded as to why someone would give that up for this gruelin job.  Funny thing is, he seemed to like it.  He had to clear up logjams and keep the wood flowin smoothly down the river.  Boy was he fast.  He would skip across them floatin logs like he was walkin on dry land.  There he’d go just a bouncin up and down across them logs, big smile across that baby face, with that funny lookin bowlers hat on.  He always had on that goofy thing.  Looked like someone had glued a bowl onto a plank’a wood.  I asked him why he liked wearin it so much one day and he just laughed and said, “Now what makes you think I like wearing it”.  Still don’t know what that boy meant, but I never took to tryin to understand him.
Everybody called him Walker cause he walked across them logs all day and it was his last name I suppose, but mostly cause he loved walkin them logs.  It was a dangerous job, but he never hesitated to go runnin out there with his push pole and clear the jam.  I told him to be real careful what logs he pushed outta the way cause if he got the wrong one, well he would end up crushed out there between two of those god-awful things.  He told me we all end up stuck between two pieces of wood in the end anyhow, so he didn’t care.  Boy shoulda listened.  Wasn’t a week later he went walkin out on them logs, smile and all, and wouldn’t you know it he sliped, got crushed between two big ole trees then sank all the way to the bottom of that river.
We searched the river for three days and never did find Archibald’s body.  It was sad to see that boy cut down so young.  We hired a new boy about a week later and he wasn’t half the walker Archibald was.  He wasn’t even a walker.  Nicknamed that boy crawler cause he was so scared of them logs he would lay down on his belly and crawl out there to fix a jam.  Three separate occasions we picked him up a mile down the river clingin to a log for dear life.  Boy was something else.  Needless to say we let him go down the river the fourth time and politely told him to not come back.  Symbolic in away.  Archibald got taken by the river and that’s how we let crawler know he was fired.  Just let it carry him away until he finally reached the bank a mile or so down river.
I finally took Archibald’s post after we couldn’t find anyone to replace him.  I won’t lie I was scared at first, but then I remembered what Archibald had told me about all of us endin up stuck between two pieces of wood in the end.  I figured he was right so I would just go boundin across them logs day in and out just like he woulda.  I still didn’t know why that boy was always happy.  Even though I did the job, I still hated it. For a while anyway.
One day I came in about the same time Archibald used to and I stood there on the edge of the river and watched the sun come up.  I knew why he was so happy all the time.  Boy it was the most beautiful thing seein that sun comin up.  It was like for a second the world was just explodin with life. I’m not sure what it’s like to have money and be educated, but I’m sure it’s nothing close to watchin that sun come up like that over the river.  Wouldn’t ya know it though when the sun was done risin and I was about to finally get to work there was that goofy hat of Archibald’s washed up on the bank.  It was a little soggy but not in bad shape.  It was like that boy knew I was gonna be there and had just left it for me.  That hat didn’t fit to well and it looked awfully funny, but I wore it everyday I went walkin them logs.  Now I start everyday like Archibald did, standin on that riverbank with my lunch pal in one had and that bowler hat in the other watchin the sun come up.  Still don’t know why that boy wore the thing, but I’m glad he did.

It was good to have Lumb in the side,
South African birthright aside!
  Though we must be fair,
  Shane Warne got him there,
He smashed all the bowlers with pride.

Our bowlers used plenty of thought,
Even Broad who often dropped short,
  He did it with style,
  And showed us his guile,
And everything hit up was well caught.

The Aussies expected to chin us,
They didn't think we had it within us
  In that final meeting
  We gave them a beating.
England the T-20 Winners.

We made them look like beginners,
Or old forgotten dog's dinners,
  The Aussies got thrashed,
  Their bowling was smashed.
*England are T-20 winners!

sample size excavation:

urbanity forsake the village-metality
of the undisclosed biological
credo...
                     urbanity became
a pawn & pauper in a "clues",
which replaced facts...
                         i am more mushroom
than reptile or genital mutilation
grammar asking...

              finally! cricket has come home!
well... in between watching
roland garros,
and the ICC?
             even i can agree...
of all the h'american sports?
  baseball... sure...
ice hockey... sure...
     basketball... sure...
   h'american football?
esp. when watching rugby?
  i don't get it...
         scuffling in the middle...
pass back... one throw forward...
a decent runner...
         ball hits the deck...
"regroup"...
      reinforced rugby-esque scrum
drama...
    play-stop-play-stop...
ad. revenue interlude...
   start-stop-start-stop...
             doesn't it get boring, ever?!

i had to turn to cricket!
oh i'm enjoying the cricket...
it's like chess + braille + bridge
dynamic of tactic... sure...
it's not baseball...
       it's cricket!

   international test matches...
50 overs...
         50 x 6 = 300 throws of the ball...
1 over = 6 throws...
no other sport was so much
beautiful jargon,
so much stat.,

             and so many idiosyncratic
terms...
what do they call english
cricketers? tourists...
west indies (the carribean team?)
the windies...
          
          349-8 (349 runs...
         8 wickets)...
              
                   imagine a sport...
where it lasts so long that it errodes
your attention span like
a Tolstoy novel...
      come morning,
it finishes in the early hours of
the evening...

                cricket... quintessential
Dickensian replacement narrative...
and i've never seen more
laid back referees (umpires)...
what's a 4 to a 6
in terms of body language?

you have tactic akin to bowlers
throwing spin-accents...
so there's a minimum of a 1-2 1-2
runs... rather than 4 or 6 worth
of smackers...

            cricket isn't the worst
of games... by far h'american football...
that's the worst game, ever...
then, golf...
             **** me... table tennis
beats those two games,
even without all the glamour...
but itching chinese pretending
to be fast paced insect-esque
reaction time automatons...

                 i mean two female sport
events make complete sense...
tennis and gymnastics...

i don't even know why i enjoy cricket...
after all,
i am not exactly english "born and bred"...
bred from the age of 8...
hybrid mongrel...
i would still like to appreciate
the sports celebrated by the land
of my birth...
        żużel (speedway) and
(szczyptarze... almost a googlewhack...
2 results)...
                 hand-ball... and volley-ball...
greek wrestling...
      archery...
             sport is so under-represented
these days...
        only the major sports...
and at times, the monopoly associated
with their funding, their subsequent
traction of spectator numbers...
  it's so boring!
             it becomes too tribal!
totteham hotspur f.c.: born and bred!
there are so many other sports...
that do not entertain tribal ergonomics!
most of the olympic sports, for starters!

  today i was watching pakistan take
on england in the ICC world cup...
             ****- beauties all round...
      and then... for some "weird" reason...
the shadow of Rotherham...
     the cube didn't fit into the square
hole a gorilla was supposed
to push the prism through...
            
       there are just so many underrated
sports! it's not even worth criticising
sports per se...
         it's the sports that appeal to
the masses, that elevate the sport beyond
the sport per se, and craft trivial and
tribal affiliations that bothers me!

           i still think h'american football
is the dumbest sport available...
considering it as, rugby: devolved.
there's as much sense of passing the ball
backwards, imitating a charging wave
against a coastline of defence...
as there will ever be any sense found...
in scuffling in the middle
like some pretend boxing match...
allowing only one pass backwards...
and one runner maneuvering past the pointless
scuffle in the middle...
pass back, one throw, one catch...
                       run Forest! run!

o.k. even i found cricket a bit *******...
asparagus... ****... asperger syndrome
with its overt analysis...
   but even cricket looks better
than that ******* irish pub brawl
take on boxing that h'american football
represents...

bloated egos in armour...
           sorry, even ping pong looks
more appealing...
the ******* sumo diet worthwhile
to compete with...
        it's the cricket world cup...
and the time it takes to play out
100 overs?
    maybe chance upon a 6 run...
   8 wickets...
                      elsewhere
handball is pop, as is volleyball...
ski-jumping...
          
        sport per se isn't the problem...
it becomes a problem when
sport becomes tribal,
and the initial per se pleasure
of the spectacle of a sport is drained...
when people have to take sides...
when the sport per se cannot
be appreciated...
            hence the "concept" of the sport,
the logic of behind the sport is lost,
lost in the fact that it is lost to
it being monetized...

              when sport, resembles....
the kind of live performance,
akin to Heilung - Alfadhirhaiti...
while i am left, bound to the greater desires,
of moving to Greenland...
or the Faroe Islands...
        because even the English summers...
are starting to resemble
Indian summers more and more...
**** being your atypical English
sun-worshipper who "miraculously"
moved outside of London...

                         not, far, enough!
give me Greenland, give me the Faroe Islands,
give me Alaska!
    i can't stand this surge in
the creeping Summer heat about
to grind England to a halt!
                   however long it will take,
i wish to plan my escape to these lands...
i don't want a year's worth more,
in this little saudi land of the north,
with pubescent saudi ******* racers
bragging their diesel lamborghini *******
down Knightsbridge!

Klusener could whack it, yes Lance,
To spinners, down wicket, he'd dance,   
   No defensive tricks, 
   He smote them for six,
The same for the quicks without prance.

Sometimes he could bowl pretty quick,
Sometimes the batsmen he'd trick. 
  Gave balance to the side, 
  Served country with pride,
All without ever being a *****.

His best score V England, remember?
Our bowlers he got to dismember. 
  Zulu hit it so high 
  Way up into the sky,
It didn't come down 'til November.

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-

Paris sits at a heart-shaped table, her lamplight eyes dimming for the morning. She pumps a tube of mascara, yawning.

“Oi!”

Paris jumps, troubled by the noise. “Oh no. Not you.” She says, blusher brush poised.

London doffs his rooftops like ten million battered bowlers.

“Nice to see you too. Not a morning girl, eh?”

Paris shakes her lovely head in a flurry of churchbells. “For you mon cher, there’s no right time of day.”

(The Channel chuckles, unsettling ships, as Dover reclines in her cloud of talc and giggles like a tickled bluebird.)

London utters a swearword. “You don’t like me, do you?”

“You’re not fit to lick my shoe.” Paris scowls, adjusting the Eiffel Tower until it sits slap-bang in the middle of her head like a crown.

“What hard work you are!” London howls, slamming a fist into the Serpentine.

Calais shrugs his trees, bored. “Mon dieu – get a room.”

or the alternative precursor to the spice girls
(yes, i did buy their debut -
      baby spice, well, my infantile
fetish with cute, clean cut blondes, meh,
old story)
                 but **** on me, President Reagan
was a former actor -
     i have no personal interests in the debate,
well: i like to see real life Hollywood,
i like films, from time to time...
    20th century moustaches are these days
relegated to hairstyles....
  you know why we don ****** hair?
the ***** are pruned and trimmed
for a ***** movie: we like to fiddle with it,
esp. the hair crop on the chin,
     i could become a violinist with it.
what spurred me on? Marvin Gayes heard it through
the grapevine, or as i say:
  down the **** gold, auburn, amber, beer,
whiskey, **** me! a correlation!
or a categorical imperative some would say:
             heard it down the wheat shaft
in between men having their prided little Richards
cut off - fun ******* fun -
         that's me and washing my hands
writing poetry in advance to my body language
transformed starting to style myself
on the baguettes hit from the 80s:
dance like a pigeon, nod pigeon in a walk,
the guy that was so jealous of me
is now a manic depressive -
       and i'm like: so what? jog on!
                      i was stupid for 10 seconds of my life,
better write out bail...
                        they should call it
the s.d.i.             (sniffer dog investigation) -
it doesn't look even remotely disastrous,
     only with that Antoinette quiff and a moustache,
      oh we loved the pern wigs
before the bowlers and top hats...
          it's as if the Victorian era was an era
for mourning the death of God, truly.
all the little revolution stemming from the death
of someone ending a bio at 1900 didn't matter...
    he was philosophising at a funeral...
i'm just watching the vehement application
of Vatican non-curriculum activity stemming from
archeology started off in Egypt under the
title: St. Thomas' account the doubter / the philosopher
gaining ground in all things trans-,
                a return by "popular" demand,
first the authentic Christianity of the gospels
and now infuriated Islam and the unauthentic application
of the recovered gospels -
   can you imagine there being a brokering
       gamble on literacy back then, would the priests
have made fishermen literate back when it
was stated: keep them wholly physically intact,
let's not interfere with their physical prowess,
we need their physical strength, undermine their
physical strength with being able to read: and we're ******!
   a fisherman wrote that gospel?
                     (insert snigger) -
        only in the 20th century could the benefits
of education a son of a roofer / metallurgy agent go
down sour... first they said they wanted me to
come upon the plateau of what education is about:
the just dispensation of wealth,
   but then they heard about my background and
simply said: nah, that ****** can clean the dishes...
the worst part?
      i would have agreeably been a street-cleaner:
but not after having invested in education!
      that's a ****** insult!
                so here's me,
high as a kite on *****, listening to poets talk
about depression for a while thinking:
    where's the wheelchair?
                             and when i'm through
i tune in, listen to Marvin Gaye and start dancing
like a pigeon strutting:
           guillotine horizontal chopping the air up,
        twerk a bit in the bathroom
and feel Chappy Jolly -
                   i'd stick a thumb up my *** if i wanted
to as reversal of the *******
                                being accusatory -
don't educated me and steal from those who don't
want to be with their common sense education
                and give me absolutely nothing
chemistry related to do it...
        i'll just start writing and turn the heat up on
being a hermit...
                              becoming educated is a monstrous
delusion that the priestly caste of society dish out
             once they dished out literacy,
              but once literacy has become exhausted
they dish out education in the broader sense.
i was walking back from the supermarket today,
and picked up a pound coin from the pavement
(thanks Sinatra, that'll pay the rent)
    and started fiddling with it in my hand:
some people have lucky charms, emeralds and
what not in necklaces and other memento forms,
i started fiddling with this found pound coin,
  Whether's Original colouring - not quiet copper,
indeed more like solidified bleached out caramel,
when i walked with my hands partially clenched
like a gorilla's and balanced the coin
on the *******'s phalange -
        and suddenly i was holding a philosopher's stone...
        it all became visceral - clear, poignant,
this little thing can transform anything from
        copper into gold -
   from iron into gold...
               where the alchemist sleeping when
they were passing this stuff about, including
the blimmin' cobblers?
                       it can also include asking
the magpies to fly in and say: not all that glitters
is gold... where are the silver spoons?
              oh for sure, the eagle as emblem / mascot of the state
  is doomed, take the Third ***** and the Roman Empire...
             no one ever bothered the sparrow to be engulfed
in replica on standards of a marching enemy...
    the crow seems pretty safe too, funny
            the eagle is a crushing curse of failed predatory
alliances when embedded in metal for man
   to strut toward a harrowing end.

come in multitudes
come in boots, pulled up, strapped
come with hairnets, bowlers, beers
come with husbands and mothers

the starlets come, the celebrities
the politicians and adversaries
bring your conflicts
bring your problems
stoners, bring your insights
bring philosophies and religions
bring visions, or lack thereof
bring weekdays and weeknights
bring the sofa
bring reality shows or documentaries
bring the series
and bring the cat

but come
with quirks and queers,
with stubbornness with anger
with broken glasses and fists
with fits of rage, with opinions
statements, facts, figures, conspiracies
bring every one of these, but come

with your broken hearts and talents
or genius, or with yesterday’s news
with the crosswords and comics
or the convicts or the cartoons  

- hell, we’ve got more than enough room

You are a cricketing wonder
For bowlers you are a thunder
You entered the arena two decades ago
And do not have the slightest ego

Runs flow from your  magic wand
Like pebbles from a brook
Many cricketers your counsel seek
You climbed the cricketing peak

You have made tons and tons of runs
In twenty one years
And broke each and every record
And you are our triumph card

You don’t care spin or pace
And have incredible grace
The great Don Bradman  invited you for dinner
Undoubtedly You are India’s greatest winner

You make every Indian proud
Across the globe you pull the crowd
You are great in any form of cricket
When you bat, the ball is out of sight

But one achievement still eludes you
Your dream shall come true
And you will be a part of winning world cup
Then Every Indian with love stand up

the Australians are playing
a good brand of cricket
they've got the English
at sixes and sevens at the wicket

our bowlers seem to be bowling
with much strength
all their delivers
are of a fine line and length

last time we met the English
in an Ashes Series
our Australian team
played like a lot of old ladies

but they've made
some key changes to the team
which shall yield
our cricket side a winning dream

play to-day sees
the English batting at the wicket
they've a bit of work
to do on their cricket

the Australian team
are drilled to perfection
with all their plays
going in the right direction

the Australian's
catching and fielding has improved
we'll be making sure
that all the English are removed

twill be a goodly day
at the Gabba Cricket Ground
watching the English batting
heading outbound

All of us, at some stage or the other
Have had certain experiences
Which have changed our lives forever
For the better, or for the worse
Of course, if it were the latter
We would have developed scars
Some of these scars
Take as much time to heal
As it takes, to place a human being on the Moon!!

Look at me, for example
Happy being single, at the age of thirty
Except for some work stress, of course
All it took, for everything to change
Was that infernal M-word

Well, it was but natural
That I would be apprehensive at first
However, as I got to know the girl
My heart told me
That I was on the right track

A couple of meetings
At my place
And then at her place
Followed by a month full of daily phone calls
And my decision was made

Our engagement was quite the tiny affair
My heart though, told me
That we were a cute couple
My brain was sure not
Of course, you all know
That I always follow my heart
And so it was, in this case too

Well, there were a few red flags
However, overruled was my brain, once more
On a roll, was my heart
I had everything in life
Or so did I think

Just was I getting ready
To tie the knot
When the pandemic struck
Suddenly, did everything look uncertain

So upset did my fiancee become
She stopped talking to me
Nor was my family spared
Though hardly was it our fault

Well, after a week or so
The silence was finally broken
However, never were things the same again

Often would we run out of topics to discuss
Except for a few mundane ones
For instance, what we had for dinner etc etc
And would she make herself available
Only around 9 PM
This was but a red flag
Which did I fail to recognise, yet again
Because she had lost her job, due to COVID19

As always, did my heart overrule my brain, yet again
And thus did we go ahead with the wedding
Much to my relief, must I say
Since it was but almost five months
Post that accursed lockdown

So, again did I think
That I had everything in life
How wrong was I to be

Right from the beginning
Her lack of interest was obvious
Even on my birthday
Did she fail to spend time with me
However, as always
Did my heart give her the benefit of doubt
Paying absolutely no heed
To the objections raised by my poor brain

Well, this was just the tip of the iceberg
Compared to what was about to follow
When her infidelity was exposed
Never once, did she let me out of her sight
Far from not showing interest
Did she become super possessive
As sudden as a heart attack

My best friend did her best to warn me
Which only ended up turning my wife
Into a jealous ******
Forcing me to cut my bestie off
Which was but one of the worst moments
In my entire life

However, so determined was my best friend
That she gave up not
And, along with my sister
Ended up saving me from total disaster

Though I was ultimately relieved
My now estranged wife's behaviour
Still did prove to be enough
To induce in me, a state of depression
Which lasted for more than a month

Apart from my best friend
And a few close relatives
No one was to know this
Thus, every time was the topic of my marriage raised
Did I have to keep up the facade
And pretend everything was fine
Which failed not, to **** me from the inside

Also, it helped not
That, tedious to the extreme
Was the divorce process
Not to mention, getting further delayed
Thanks to that infernal pandemic

Nor did it help
That my to-be-divorced wife
Threw a few tantrums
Every now and then
In the form of a few messages
Which reeked of utter desperation
Also was I forced, by my lawyer
To maintain a strict silence
Even if it, as always
Killed me from the inside

There was but a silver lining
In all this darkness
Finally, did my brain come to the fore
After being overruled many a time
By my rather naive and impulsive heart

Well, ultimately was the divorce done
But not before we were forced
To pay that wretched girl
A frigging four lakhs
On "humanitarian" grounds
That too, after her outrageous refusal
To return all the jewellery
That we had bestowed upon her
Out of sheer love and compassion

Well, this entire experience has failed not
To leave inside me a few scars
That run rather deep
And may take as much time to heal
As it does for England
To win a Football World Cup!!

My therapist calls this experience "traumatic"
I agree not with her
However, I can equally deny not
That it has indeed affected my life
In a rather adverse manner
My self-confidence, in particular
Has taken a bigger beating
Than did Pakistan's bowlers yesterday
At the hands of Warner and Marsh!!

Yes, we must indeed embrace our scars
However, to expect that to happen
Within a span of two years
Is like asking India to win a Football World Cup
Given that, at present
They are not even able to qualify in the first place!!

Yes, we must indeed embrace our scars
Because they doth prepare us
For mightier challenges ahead
And life is full of such things
However, the first thing to do
Would be, to accept them in the first place
And more importantly, acknowledge them
Because, only when are we kind to ourselves
Can we truly heal
And this doth apply
Even to the tiniest of wounds!!

It was all silk and sawdust
Mamas skirts rustled a sunday mass
and dad wore his bowler hat tilted at an angle
(dirk bogarde -like look)

But he was a farmer.
soon after the service was over
he'd hang his hat by the cowsheds
and wallow in green slushy poo
irrespective of how much it stank
and how natural  he looked
throwing sawdust over the caked green pancakes
and shovelling all that crap into a corner,
with sundays best clothes on!

Mama insisted he change first
but no. "The cows need attention
as much as god does, Mama"

We did not argue with his farmyard philosophy
but that's where we cut our teeth
and tasted a mans love for his animals
both human and beast and that's where
we understood that sunhats, bowlers
and polished walking sticks
were just statements that didn't come
from a book- but society. Somehow
he mixed the two learnings
to get along with everything.

I missed him when he milked his last cow
and lay down forever in that quiet evening
as the sun set in an orange sky. The brightest star
that night climbed over the eastern ridges
to grace the night. Dad?



© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.

Now It’s CLEAR That I Am ... " GIFTED " ...
When It Comes To Writing Lyrics ... !!!

Articulated Scriptures ...
That Paint Descriptive Pictures ...
of How It Is We’re Living ...

Ism After ... ISM ...
Corruption and Division ...
That’s Bred By Politicians ...

EVEN ON A Day Like THIS ...

December ... 25th ...

I’m STILL Presenting Gifts ...

Through Written Scripts Like THIS ... !!!

That QUICKLY FLIP ...
DIFFERENT Subjects ... !!!

From Politics To Those Whose Gifts ...
Gave Out Some ... SERIOUS LIKS’ ... !!!!!!

Just Like The GREAT ... “ King Viv “ ... !!!

A Cricketer ... SO GIFTED ... !!!
When It Came To Playing Cricket ...
And PROTECTING ... His Wicket ...
That Bowlers RARELY Hit It ... !!!!!!!!

While Others Like ... USAIN ...
Had Gifts That Made Them Train ...
In Ways That Gained ... " Olympic Fame " ... !!!
TOO Many IN FACT ... For This Poem To Name ... !!!

So Let’s Move On ...
To Gifts That Belong ...
In ... OTHER Realms ...

Like ****** Gifts ...
YES ... BIG OL’ Well ...

You Know What It Is ... Or ... Do You ... ?!?

Do You Know What It Is To Be The One Who GIVES ...
MULTIPLE ... ******* Rides ... !!!?!!!

Well I’m ... One of THOSE GUYS ... !!!!!
My Ex and I ... ENJOYED Those Nights ....
Where She Would Be Riding Just Like ...
Those Guys With Gifts To Ride Motorbikes ...

In Ways That THRILLED When She Got FILLED ...
With MUCH MORE Than The ... AVERAGE Man ...
And YES That’s FACT So ... DON’T Doubt That ... !!!!!!!

Such Gifts Are COOL But Now I’m Fuelled ...
To Use My Gifts To ... EXPLAIN Things ...

As I Said At The Start I Now Use My ARM ...
To ARTICULATE Visions of How We’re Now Living ...

So Gifts of THIS TYPE ...
Tend To CHALLENGE The Minds ...
of Those Who Are ...................................................... “ Sly “ ...

Because of The Gift That ... REALITY Brings ... !!!
A Bite That DEFIES The Spreading of LIES ... !!!

But One That Bears Witness ...
To TRUTH And LESS Sinning ... !!!

So ... As I Now End ...
I’m Back To The Beginning ... !!!

I Articulate Scriptures ...
That Paint Descriptive Pictures ...
of How It Is ... " We’re Living " ...

Because It’s ... CLEAR ...
When It Comes To Writing Lyrics ...

That I Am One ... Who’s ...

.......... “ GIFTED “ ..........

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.

That bowlers cap fit you incredibly well.
A monocle for the laughs.
Constantly with a cigar.
A perfectly formed stash.
Never a hair out of place.
The personality of a tie-dye shirt.
The face of a businessman.
Rest in peace Tim.
You were more than a good man.
Truthfully a Titan.
Farewell Monopoly Man.
Heaven won't know what hit 'em.

From the incrimination of the whole
they gave us a paved road to nowhere
the Victorian homeless cougars
have only recently found their hearts
(undoubtedly to the honkys)
and who escaped
for the sky
was not alive
or sopping
or green

this miserable workplace
over the edge
for butcher's lines
~was not raven black
the spoons
or forerunners
(from dazzling peninsulas)
left alone
off the center
of the parking lot

the real city
of buggy stalled wanderings
~was not flesh stained
off the front of
private beaches
stood resplendent bottoms
sprung off low ebbs
for the dark world
and our fathomless silences

trumpets and banjoes
and electric mandolins
are thrown from the solitude
ear studs
and obscurity
out of the footsteps of
spontaneous supporters
the vital blood arrayed
without moonless stasis
and desert buckets

woodlands unkempt
against the mountain run
halted plains straightened
after the catch
***** martinis
and stiff bowlers
valley the single marcher
shetlands
and peasants
see clear to the horizon

An acquaintance once advised me
Not to fret over Recruitment
Because it is the easiest job in the world
I have blocked him
But that's not the point
The point is
Recruitment is a pile of work
That keeps growing bigger and bigger
Until it surpasses Mount Everest
And it is also a fly
That keeps hovering tantalisingly above you
Daring you to swat it aside
Before making "The Great Escape"
At the eleventh hour
As far as today was concerned
Recruitment was losing the toss
And watching your bowlers being carted around for boundaries
In all sorts of directions
While enduring a long day in the field
Under the blistering heat of a raging summer
That has already wreaked havoc
Across the entire nation
Who knows what tomorrow may bring
In any case
We do know one thing for sure
Recruitment is anything but an easy job

At lunchtime pigeons and pinstripes dance with Rockette syncopation in front of Radio City
following the lead of thirty balloons encased
in vinyl tugged down the 50th Street station.

A chauffeured limousine pops out
a freshly groomed and leashed Pomeranian
seeking reunion with her dowager owner
getting purple locks and cuticles nearby.

At the columned entrance of Manhattan Bridge
two lovers kiss at the Canal Street stoplight
while a Vespa owner stops near the pedestrian
walk to hitch the love of his life in full stride.

Black children in bowlers and their Sunday finest
share a car in the Connie Island Cyclone
with Hasidic eyngls from Avenue J
carefully protecting their yarmulkes.

In the South Bronx the children of 136th Street
practice belly flops on an abandoned mattress
before chickening out on the adjacent kiddie pool
decorated with aqua waves, clown fish and mermaids.

The Monday field trip will transport ten
young Harlem poets to the Schomburg Library
to eulogize when Maya Angelou and Amiri Baraka
danced a jig on the ashes of Langston Hughes.

One will write a Christmas story about the time
Richard the reindeer took the Roosevelt Island
tram to bring  presents to the orphans
after Santa’s sled had fallen apart.

Brisbane bowling trip day 10

Today I got up at 7-30 to have breakfast
Then I went back to the room
To watch Becker and get myself ready for.11-00 departure
And we left for the bowling alley
And I went in and got my ball
And bought sweet potato fries for lunch
And two crunchie bars as well
And then I went to watch the other bowlers bowl
And at 1-45 I was in a doubles match with kyra
We had a great conversation about television
And football etc etc
Then we bowled
Kyra got 103 and 147 and 117
I got 136 and 132 and 111
And when we finished I noticed
Mitchell Meares getting 7 strikes in a row
And finishes with 246, which was a ****** for him
But he will probably get a medal though
Then after that we went home, I watched Becker on the bus
And when we got to the hotel, we had 1 hour and a half to freshen up
Before we went to the old mill pub for dinner
I had beer battered fish and chips and salad
And pavlova with chocolate ice cream for dessert
And then I went home to do art and watch the footy
South’s beat broncos 46-0 AWESOME👌👌👌👌👌👌👍👍👍👍👍😃
And I tried to watch home and away but there were technical issues
Maybe later, I only need to watch two episodes
Tomorrow an 8-30 breakfast then we go on a river cruise
And presentation dinner tomorrow night
Now I am off to bed 😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔😔

Brisbane bowling trip day 7

Today I got up at 7-00 to have breakfast
And I went up to my room to brush my teeth
And then I hopped in the bus
And went to the bowling centre
I didn’t have a chocolate to start the day
But, I bowled ever so badly
I tried ever so hard
But, I kept missing the strikes and spares
I wanted to play better, it is what I wanted
But, I was pathetic at playing today
I know people wanted me stop bowling scores in the 90s
But, my performance wasn’t too good
I tried hard to get strikes
But, tried too hard I guess
I got 93 again and 99 and 116
I teammates bowled much better
In many sort of ways
After a ** day of bowling
I went over to have lunch
Which was Mexican cheese nachos and a drink
I finished my lunch and went over to cheer my other
Teammates on, and I found a table, I sat down
And placed the iPad on the table, to listen to it’s the donnellys
And the French family concert
So I have their lovely music in my ears
As I watched their performances it was fun doing that
And after the concert, the bowlers were finished not much later
And we tried to go to the mall to do shopping
But the car park was too low down for our buses to down
So we went to the lions club to watch the footy
Canterbury v st George and Melbourne v Collingwood
Canterbury and Collingwood won
Two upsets 😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳
Then we had dinner, I had garlic prawns on rice
And a apple pie with cream and ice cream
We thanked the club staff for helping us
And they were very grateful to us 😎😎😎😎😎😃😃😃😄😄😅😅😅😅😅
We went back to hotel
And there was a choice, go to your room to watch tv
Or play charades in the lobby
I watched RBT home and away and neighbours
And we will sleep in tomorrow hoping I don’t say too many buts
Tomorrow, and now we are getting ready for bed
Overal, I know those scores aren, t good, but at least it is a great holiday. So far 😎😄😄😄😄😄😸😸😸😸😸😁😁😁😁😁🙃

Exit is Brexit
Out is Brout
Give a man a fish
It has to be a Trout.

But if its on a Friday
The day you voted Leave
And you are a Catholic
Vote for Mogg but not for Grieve.

Up in Scotland they have a choice
Sturgeon roe or there is Salmon
The Welsh prefer their Oysters
From the mountains of Aran Benllyn

Across the water in County Down
Where those bowlers make them frown
Arlene Foster and her DUPPY's
Use Bluefish software for the Crown.