No one can accept the person outside
Too much, little said
Pretty and plastic is what I should be
Yet I fall under the opposite
Ugly

Flimsy and bulgy imperfection always
Teach me to be like the others
Nothing but perfect or so they seem
Flawless, beautiful
Thin

Much leaves my mouth
Little enters
Pounds drop, bones brittle
Blood stops, yet it pours
Seeps

I'll fade away till you cant see
The ugly that lies
The blood flows free
Before I am too old
I'll die
Young

It's just a memory,
my bulgy belly,
my fleshy, succulent legs
and all that you have written on my body,
while on the shower.

All of it its ecstasy.
Its last night being caressed by your torn hands.

You are only a mean to justify many of my purposes.

A remembering,  a feeling,
a moaning, a shout, a writing.

I can forget you only after 3 nights without sleep,
and when the letters begin to fade.

Automatic translation of

An automatic rifle

Goes ratatatatak attack

The field is clear

The ghosts of souls still near

We are A-OK in this situation with this

   AK-47



Peace is dragged in the dirt

Rope around her black stifle

**** around her black skirt

A soldier offers her some water

Her struggles refuse to whimper.



A stout blond-haired chieftain

Watches from afar. Red stains

Of pain and blood subdue her

She will collapse within the hour

All she hears is the rattle of the

Blond snake talking to her



Automatic translation of

The automatic rifle

Going ratatatatak attack



Someone attempts to translate

The anger of a Glock:

“It’s just around that block

That you will fall, Peace

Sentenced by the death clock

Mounted on the automatic rifle

But you’ll be A-OK in this situation we have the

           AK-47”



Trump(ets) of shame echo around the devastated field

They told the blond chieftain he’ll be lead in track and field

In college. They showed him naked models in lingerie adds

They still show up on his LCD screen in apps

They told him he could buy a revolver for a couple of quarters

So he said “no quarters, please take this batch of Grants”

You are A-OK in this situation with this

     AK-47



Automatic translation of

The automatic rifle

Went ratatatatak shot in the back



In between his hatred-filled decaying teeth

The chieftain was staring when she fell, without an ounce of grief

Rubbed in reassurance his bulgy AK-47 for relief

He then came… to the conclusion:



“REST IN PIECES, PEACE”



October 3, 2017

"AHHHHH...IS IT...YER SELF THAT'S...IN IT?

Here I am
thin

now fat then
thin again.

Here the hair
short now long

then long in the
long long ago.

The same features
scattered across time

sticky-out ears...bulgy eyes...curly hair

only the eyes change
( and remain the same ).

Still the sad shy smile
flickers across the ages.

Here, I am
almost handsome

her I am
my usual not.

Always the same laugh.

The photographs play with me
change and amend me

shuffle me through years
tears...different me's

me's I never knew
I'd be.

I smile my by now
characteristic smile

laugh my laugh
that is my own

and no others.

I've feeling that
the photographs

haven't yet
finished with me

that there will be
lots more me

to come.

I close the album.

Put myself back
on the shelf.

Get on with the
business of being

my self.

up on a tree top
high in the sky
lives a bright little creature
with big bulgy eyes
coming down once a week
gathering food for it's nest
It makes sure to be quiet
for there's enemies ahead
looking every direction
that the way, it be clear
he runs to the woods to get the food that's so dear
making sure to step lightly
no sound to be made
when he gets to his spot
gathers all that he can
of a sudden, a sound
sees red eyes coming nigh
runs as fast as he can
to his home up the tree
the beast almost caught him
he's right to his feet
so before the beast grabs him
he gets to his tree
makes a leap to the top branch
then into his home
another day done
food, work and play
tis the life of said creature
for good or for nay

“I love looking at you”
You say.
And I wonder what you see?
Bulgy eyes,
Sausage fingers,
Thinning eyebrows
Is what I see.
I try to see myself through your lens
Beautiful eyes,
Delicate hands,
Cleavage for miles,
Hair that you can’t help but grab,
Soft skin waiting to be turned rugged
After several
Soft (hard) bites
From your mouth.
Your mouth on my skin.
I live in this moment
I could die happy with this image in my head:
Your mouth on my skin.
I like myself
Through your eyes.

"AHHHHH...IS IT...YER SELF THAT'S...IN IT?

here I am
thin now fat then
thin again

here the hair
short now long then long
in the long long ago

the same features
scattered across time
sticky-out ears...bulgy eyes...

curly hair
only the eyes change
( and remain the same ).


still the sad shy smile
flickers across
the ages

here I am
almost
handsome

her I am
my usual not
always the same laugh

the photographs
play with me
change and amend me

shuffle me through years
tears...different me's
me's I never knew I'd be

I smile my
by now
characteristic smile

laugh my laugh
that is my own
and no others

I've a feeling that
the photographs
haven't yet

finished with me
that there will be
lots more me to come

I close the album
put myself back
on the shelf

get on with the
business of being
my self


*

Being punctuated is a fierce painful business altogher...I remembered being full stopped and clare ta God but wasn't I in a coma for weeks on end. I was then locked up in brackets for another week and all my quotation marks taken away from me so I could hardly speak at all. Then I was given a life sentence to be my self for the rest of my life.

Too many Dónalls spoil the broth of a boy...joining the dots of me...painting by numbers the me of I.