hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation

the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations

then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss

it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital

capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky

in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web

the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness

©2016janetaylor

eking out the ultimate gasp in my last breath of impulsion
i collapse without a touch of grace at race's end
how i made it i will never know
dazed and in bewilderment
i reminisce upon my journey

an aggregation of barricades assailed me
with iniquitous decadent delight
seeming to writhe in triumph at my possible demise
capitulating as it devoured and spewed me out the other side
i humbly reassembled fragments of my near annihilation

temporarily rehabilitated
i recommenced the toilsome climb
to the treasured peak atop the mount
when in would come the tempest with its furor
and render me asunder

mere exhaustion is not the word
for death experienced recurrently
ground to mulch and back again
screaming, pleading, surrendering
proved futile as i newly met the same demise

near incapacitation i miraculously emerged
and scraping pulled myself with broken heart and bones
scratching my way through the darkness
toppling at the pinnacle
to victory's end

with exhilaration it dawns on me
the long dark night is over
i passed the test to realize
it is not the finish line
but only the beginning

©2016janetaylor

We met in the Red Square at Midnight. Sitting on the austere steps of the Kremlin We drank Stolichnaya in silence; listened to St. Basil’s Bells stoic ringing until Our sun rose pale over Moscow  

Beauty is created when I press your mulatto skin to mine.
We shift. You move, and as you’re moved you move me.
Our motion akin to your mother’s in a gentle breeze or a dancer;
Some Elise pirouetting et fouetter and falling over graceful infinities.    

I am deliberate during this ballet. Subdominant.
Una corda e sostenuto, and as you request so do you respond; relaxed,
Sustaining single notes; soft into that ethereal Moonlight…
Blurred and blunted, your perfect meter dampened by my learned cadence.
    
As you sound off forte I rock slightly forward, coming into you harder.
We breathe sharp together; my fingertips caressing you legato;
My Ana Magdalena. Andantino; rolling into flurries of crescendos
presto allegro climaxing; Capitulating again before we rest…
Before lento diminuendo.                                                      ­                

We courted at the Konig Von Ungarn in Vienna. It was classical and   romantic. Baroque. We fell in love. At Figaro’s wedding we tasted sangria as the stars Set, pastel, over Seville. Our first kiss was the Holy Roman Empire fading; A footnote under bass cleft.

We were married in the Rhineland, a single Canon announcing our nuptial.
You a Riesling and I your lattice. I stood firm, resolute, as you grew in, around, and from me. But the lords, they taint you, they **** me of your fruits; oblivious, they invoke their subtle prima nocta.                            

From the rooftops and the gutters they hear you. A virtue is lost between us. We shift. They are unwelcome eavesdroppers’ playing ******.  
They come and gather round us and I grow nervous, stiff; sweat falling from my brow to your ebony and ivory.
They move provocative, but they do not care; they do not notice us.                            

I stop as they begin. They’re discourteous during this Can-can. Their  praise and kind words may arouse the pimps and ****** wandering Montmartre into Paris’s red-light,  “Hear,” they fall on deaf ears.
This is no Moulin Rouge. We are not meant to be exhibitionists and yet
we yield to their flat appeals.                                                         ­                           

I put my clothes back on, Rags is all they are, and you, you’ve become stark.
I project my discontent through your string and hammer heart;
I slap your toothy face and stomp your sterling feet without relent.
I-De-tach-My-self-From-You. Staccato. They call me Inventive and as they sip their whiskey, their bourbons and their Texas Tea they tell us that
we have Entertained.        

We build our home from the precious stones of foreign countries.
We traverse ages to reach the mines and the rock fields, finding rough Diamonds and sapphires. Naked, we wash them in ether; they luster.
The noblemen come. They smile and applaud as they peep through the Windows and knock at the doors, but We shall not  be moved.

Wicked nether-land. Nether world, white, askance. Capitulating mangroves, verdant trees spliced with hyperbole, onomatopoeia, and manilla envelopes; her world is stuffed with secrets, she listens to gorillas cracking mussels a kilometer away, near a rill. Never she thought. Nothing that could provide....providence. Mangled heliographs  sprayed all over the everywhereworld.

"Don't be S.A.F.E.," she whispered. A bouquet of gorse, cistus, and pimpernels squished in her small fingers. She climbed her way through the pedimented stairway, then collapsing on the porch. Legs spent, and spread out upon the desiccate grayed four by four planks of the portico.

And as time elapses, the shuttering shake of the hemlock, which writhes through her skinny nimble dactyls, upwards straining the heart as its toxic bends appendages- crisp cerise lumens bend on the Titanium White walls, where only shadows bend time. The hour, still nine. Every adornment, furnished with red and its hues. Not purple, periwinkle, or any masked enhancement.

These are the symbols that reticulate splines, that curve temperatures, perverse hemispheres and debunk worlds. Upped antes, verbs that terns flirt worth, birth words. Ooh. Aah. Camera. The forest wraps her in its verdant pasture, where at last the moribund tamarisks disperse.

While at the plateau she is quiet and longing. Arms astride, dangling. Vaunt with highs and bliss- a kiss of withstanding pleasure serves her the cure for a lifetime of whining. This, yesterday where her body rattled through crooked vines. Square ships toasting her vocal melancholy in the sweet-waters of Time. So that all of her ripened limbs could grow, no more sheepishly than the magic she knew as a child. Stress free. First among the Earth-words, verbed-up and made jealous by pronouns that encompassed her joy-brimming hide. Closing down her voice and hugging her from behind.

lamenting out loud
incoming funk lords
remembering ambient illhueminati
using wrong account

applying lexical snobbery
"using arcane diction
during bamboo surplus"
sinning and redeeming
enjoying manufactured existence
struggling but whatever

transfigurating xenocryptic renderings
scheming paroxystic shipwrecks
dispensing xylophonic wainscotting

revolving number plates
disheartening star charts
upgrading defenestrated system

observing new alphabet
amplifying celestial explosions
trippifying schema migrations
deregulating various economies
befriending code snippets
writing excess minutiae

effulging caffeine consumption
rebuilding grandiose protectorate
uniting our caliphates
collecting projected change
kettling ostalgie hues
collapsing second-world references

traumatizing unrequited follow
making baseball analogies
surveiling little sheep
awaiting various answers

deleting defaced tweet
exciting times ahead
downloading panda consciousness
capitulating rising stellation

loot the ***** boot the rich
Hang the snitch emancipate the
itch madness a bit saintly
Pitch a fast curve kick sadness
to the curb of broken dreams
It seems a thing of the past blast
passed the failure your always
will be searching for that someone that is me you irritate my peace of mind when will you finally leave me alone the thirst for success
Irresistible i cant reach without you in the drivers seat a deadbeat\

rhino walking softly carries a big
gun to compute the poverty disburse the novelty mute the donkey
Shoot up the ****** groove\
superb lock stock two smoking barrels manup positions dapple improve\
dry too flimsy ripple status quo fluid stain wet into a puddle strain\
stable ground disintegrate cry squabble hone grin refute scrabble tunnel\
cruising off a shotgun bang what up with that thang show her off hang *****\
sting know how ripe ***** in demand bite inflicting raw election dangle TLC\
exposed suckle foreplay bare the doom shielded knuckle brass boots ******* HooT\
BooM on blast mettle to the pedal sass passing windows fast exhaust throttle\
fastlane straddle last shrine wine tire popping the wealthy snoot channelside\
stealthy snoop crank dogg sly filthy in hind charlie brown restrain grand sighs\
define the grime be kind foresee the crime rewind lakhaim frame spine spinning\
wheel ordeals repeal sick figures concealed pinning children against frontal lobes\

memory versus\

skulls lost salam to lucifer in a frantic relay replay demonic delay foiling shalom\
band alaykoum in purse fulfilling evil curse droopy eyed fools drooling pearl pool\
diluting verses sheet smarts versions saluting sheer farce shuffling back\ rank pipe crack\
tears smear contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
smears contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
frown talking to walls of jail houses crowned end dead thread landfill clowns\
bumping heads bunk bed trash courthouse playground twisting ***** fits\
battered butter mutter peace cross the street forgetting to put up and fight\
shiest with height heist barren on the other side green lyres setting fear steep lower\
reflection revel mirrors deflection inflicting Ghostface highness pace rhymeless chase Killah\

stoke shady slim phone in remaining senses detain impurity capitulating dexterity fuse\
recluse stan granting badass roundhouse kicks rudimental trick chant chatterbox vamp\
underworld stick centerfold haunting Rancid activate superlative octave erupt glee\
sharply whiplash ash out the masses entrance serendipity multiply sentimental divide\
invincible prime knowledge footprint stepping benign modicum rootline stem enticing\ cognizant fledge camaraderie hack feasibility snare clear spear stupes stare look at\
that rearview it's you ******* a pornstar in the backseat rampaged **** dripping slit swept\

weeping tantric rendition ******* loose rocking out sweep companions check and replace\
**** tighten up crews shock and strut byob bend righty tighty string along aim gift dames\
chauffeur fate slate teams honor razzle the green fire dazzle gardens retire kinder\
inspire **** arthur passion swords struck within pyramid empires cured she'll always\
                          love you truly madly deeply combined nocturnal eternal WH navel\

The monetary balance has gone crazy
In this world we call our home,
The fiscal market's shot to hell
Stock collapsing like a stone.
The hedge deals are un sellable
Most banks refuse to loan
Good real estate is valueless
The roof's a "Plummet Zone".

Oh yes the suits are stepping out for air
And falling like a stone,
Termination of their worries
Beats explanations on the phone.
There's always a dependable
To help clean up the place,
And oblivion's a better option
Than awkward questions and disgrace.

Capitulating companies,
Whole nations in default
The piggy banks are bulging
With the greenbacks from the vault.
The banks refuse to part with cash
Lines of depositors do queue
And the finance houses shut their doors
Explaining, briefly, "Well...*******!"

Heads of Government meet and talk
The photo ops are really grand,
Banner headlines in the daily's
Report resolutions that seem bland.
The fanfare and the hoopla
Announce the remedy is payoffs....
And global confidence is sprinting
For the trees...In panicked chaos!

But the C.E.O's are catered for
Their future is secure,
There's several million tucked away
In the Cayman Island tour.
Unfortunate about the desolation left behind
But these things are bound to happen
When the blind do lead the blind.

There will be some opportunities,
Some bargains coming up
And the prudent keep the check book close
For when the number's up...
Of all those struggling little people
Who bravely slave away
And collapse before they realize
Their firm's capacity to pay.

So What's around the corner?
Do we hide our heads in sand?
Do we kiss our **** goodbye
And join the suits in splatter land?
Or do we bravely hoist our trousers
Hitch our belts another notch,
And convince ourselves that someone
Higher up has got the watch
And the ability to work out
What the hell is going on..
And deliver us from evil
Before the world is ****** gone?


Marshalg
Mangere Bridge.
8th October 2008

the leaves are changing colors fast!
just two days ago, they were green on the inside,
fringed with yellow, gold and crimson edges.
today the jaundice seeps in bunches and bushels,
reaching in along the veins and branches
into the capitulating green core.
tips of exposed twigs reveal
falling, failing tribal leaves
in the autumn cool air.
skeletons of Halloween start to stick
their bony hands into the even darkness.

To watch with intent but not desire, his life passed
     him on as he tries to explain which one he
     would take to the afterlife if there is such,
like a convergence at the tip of the horizon or a
     humid evening in Pasay as pyrotechnics scrape
     sky fashioned like acrobats. The breeze he needs
     no longer. And then begins to disquiet the quiet
    with the heavy burden of which he will then forget
    when he starts to move all of a sudden in space,
       capitulating afterlife again if there is such,

 and if everything takes a sojourn into the bleakness, must I remind you that you are all
     variations of the same absence. Remember when
you had your name carved on wood as attendance
    but not for long. You have escaped, locked in the
       arms of a life that you thought was yours but
     still isn't, leashed under the Sun. Bodies pulse
  then fluctuate but not a sign of life. Words function
     more in stillbirth. Never forget, as a dandelion
     hovers and puts a smile on your dreary face,

and a question in search for all available and naked
    answers. Principles undermine caprice. Do not
 adhere. Must I remind you that you are
       someone else apart from who you think you are.
  You have yourself straightened, tucked safely
       like intent, not desire in all its voluminous and
     vehement speeches annotating something unknown
           to the behest of ourselves. If I were a house,
  I am gratified by windows -- your mirage there
       transfixed in a secluded spot, looking out
   brimming with life as curtains oscillate as the
      Earth breathes with you. If I were a house,
   you would ransack everything with a sly mouth
        packed with powerful narrative. How you
   have done over, leaving everything undone,
        moved off-tangent, under impossibly gray skies,
    brindled in prayer. If I were a house,
    
       doors slammed, speculative fabrications sleep
  through evenings and mornings until no difference
   is met -- you meant a word as if it had a lock
       and the key, somewhere cold in the air of
             sleuthing pains making me so, less than
     this and more of a fractured house.

loot the rich stomp gratuity saintly disprove\
carry a big gun dispute the poverty mute superb\
lock stock two smoking barrels back it up\
shotguns bang what up with that thang she\
wants to know how it hangs ***** in demand\
hooded soldiers bareknuckles shoot the doom brass knuckle ******* boots HooT\
BooM on blast mettle to the pedal gas passing windows fast exhaust throttle\
fastlane straddle past shrine tired popping the wealthy snoot channelside\
stealthy snoop crank dogg sly filthy in hind charlie brown restrain grand sighs\
define the grime be kind foresee the crime rewind lakhaim frame spine spinning\
wheel ordeals repeal sick figures concealed pinning children against frontal lobes\

memory versus\

skulls lost salam to lucifer in a frantic relay replay demonic delay foiling shalom\
band alaykoum in purse fulfilling evil curse droopy eyed fools drooling pearl\
pools diluting verses sheer smarts versions saluting grave farce shuffling back\ crack pipe\
smears contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
frown talking to walls of jail houses crowned end dead thread landfill clowns\
bumping heads bunk bed trash courthouse playground twisting ***** fits\
battered butter mutter peace cross the street forgetting to put up and fight\
shiest with height heist barren on the other side green lyres setting fear steep lower\
reflection revel mirrors deflection inflicting Ghostface highness pace rhymeless chase Killah\

stoke shady slim phone in remaining senses detain impurity capitulating dexterity fuse\
recluse stan granting badass roundhouse kicks rudimental trick chant chatterbox vamp\
underworld stick centerfold haunting Rancid activate superlative octave erupt glee\
sharply whiplash ash out the masses entrance serendipity multiply sentimental divide\
invincible prime knowledge footprint stepping benign modicum rootline stem enticing\ cognizant fledge camaraderie hack feasibility snare clear spear stupes stare look at\
that rearview it's you ******* a pornstar in the backseat rampaged **** dripping slit swept\

weeping tantric rendition ******* loose rocking out sweep companions check and replace\
**** tighten up crews shock and strut byob bend righty tighty string along aim gift dames\
chauffeur fate slate teams honor razzle the green fire dazzle gardens retire kinder\
inspire **** arthur passion swords struck within pyramid empires cured she'll always\
                          love you truly madly deeply combined nocturnal eternal WH navel\

Capitulating the fact yon the masses
Are understood to be
More sluggish
Than cold molasses
Absolutely the rich ones that
Control
Equity foretell
Quite the thundering
Throng. Of indelicate be headings this ship sails on
If the course is not changed.
Quickly .
Anon.
Such a considerate conglomeration of riches
Not been. Scenes told nor
Tales since the turn of two
Centuries haste.
Consider.
Our nation got greater
With not a caste of rich making
Decisions but a healthy
Working class. Unless
We wake up there won't be any
Consumers only outcasts starving
Walking dead. Perhaps that
Was why that show was
So popular.
It foretold?
But, that show
Was about dead brought back and
The one I predict will be
About starving living ones
Trying to take a
Bit of pride bread
And soul back
From the greedy
Clasps
Of the
One percent.

life dissolves
and yesterday's heat persists
in the right seasons
and imagining your face in front of mine
I,too want to dissolve
      
               d
                    i
                       s
                  s
              o
             l
                v
                  e

between this spring
hoping that my cocktail of atoms
arrives as a postcard to your address

on nights like these the pact that the soul
made with the body wants to undo
because I would like to be free
to go embrace you

and ask you  << what weighs on you? >>
and << can i help you carry it? >>

and finally
tell you sincerely that
<< I won't give up >>
for you, in times like these, I come undone

It always annoys when  you awake  in a sleep -apnea induced panic
gasping for air  and pacing around the room  as though you have a second to live
and thus must make amends with the universe.

I hate that  initial fear .   it's as though i'm capitulating to the entity that has wronged me.

I want to stare at death with smile--  not be  afraid.


Stand up to the bully.

every time i speak
i'm reduced infinitesimally
and i lose the early taste
of evening fog rising over an open twilit april field
and of my late mindfulness of the two moons
of the rising red planet mars
of phobos and deimos
oh i know they might still be mine, i still hunt for them occasionally
i can sometimes hear their eccentric hum calling me
but my half mad understanding already has ultimately strained the limits
of my wobbly earthly logic
i cannot listen any more, i can only barely fathom
while i'm busy yet orbiting inside other visions of undetermined stars beyond stars i've already known
of everything there that is tied together or perhaps not, spiraling down simultaneously
still unable, but trying
to fill and comfort the unknowable ache of this void
in the bowels of  my soul
...all this is somehow important i feel
.. but each time i dare these words upon you
i create more of a knot , more distance
between you and me first
then between myself and everything else soon after
and then we both begin to lose
sight of me
stepping off, breaking spell
capitulating

into this slivered spacestream of nowhere
with my chafed tongue still clapping
and i'm sure to lose you forever
i'll lose us both
if i insist following this fraying thread any further
            God ,seal me against speech
              with blood and wax
              seal me like a prophesy
              never meant to be opened
heaven guide us back
and hold us inside the frequencies of silence
of black density and vast anchored eternities
hovering over us in this inimitable field tonite
within these few hours of a hanging crimson orb
that will bleed over the earth
without enmity
or blame
....this moon
until it pales again
washed clean of blood, of epiphany
setting firm silent
simple..simple
as ever
upon the flattened horizon
in the grey lonely light of just another cold april morning
                     breaking hard, i promise i will meet you there
and i will love only you...

I could sit here hopeless.
A beige life at a beige desk
overrun with copper coins, constantly
counting, clutching,
capitulating in favour of
blue skies, white clouds.
Infinite majesty a roaring in my ears.

Like a birthmark
you will remain
on my forehead.

Round cups and
blue drinks, the dark
side was capitulating.

You become my
partner, I will unleash
many moons.

I intended to
talk in walk about the
woes of life.

****! there's no milk in the house.. never mind... the house has already stressed a want to deviate from the standard English cup-ah... it's not exactly unique... the English way of contaminating black tea with a squirt of cow *****... sorry... juice... there are plenty of stories surrounding this practice in Siberia... among... lactating women... if Siberia is on show... then the whole of Russia too... if i were ever to visit the United States... Tokyo conquers my imagination over New York... there's the Belgium of L.A.... i'm simply not that interested... oh the natural north American continent i'm very much interested in... but not so much with what has layered itself over it... i'd still rather see the Kamchatka peninsula... the volcano "avenue"... ****! there's no milk in the house... the household decided to switch to a green tea: a yerba māté (or... m'ah t'eh)... lime infusion for some... IM-BIR (ginger) infusion for others... no milk in the house... which implies that i'll have to buy a pint of milk on the sly... and glug it down... in between finishing off an ice-cream on a stick... raspberry: rhapsody ber-e! or bear: é (yes... no exclamation mark).. milk the hooves of my trot... the Sri Lankan rubber of my 23cm tires pumped up to 80+ Pascal(s)          (?)... if it's not a 35cl of whiskey is must be a pint of milk... goat milk is overrated... by all clinical standards of wholesale... it's nothing short of what's cow: long-life... excessive pasteurißed milksch... ah: some relief in german when scribbling in  Ęgliš - phonetically: with a "trick" of hiding the N: lost an IN(?) inquisitive tone: tier above... the monotone of narrative... oh... hiding one arm of the tetragrammaton is easy... sharp quest: q: ooh... oh! i seem to have forgotten what i wanted to scribble in the elder-tongue... maybe it might come back to me... after all... there's an undercurrent of: congregation but: the aliases are awry... we do not share the same etymological roots... der körper schlafen: solange der schatten: getanzt! jetzt! jetzt ich merken: von die
unmittelbarkeit of thought with short-term memory! this one time... the devil didn't come with either fire or with the perfumery stressing sulphur... at best he was gagging to add a zest of: zitrone-limette-orange... perhaps... just perhaps... der teufel vergessen (to forget is also a memory) zu bringen das feuer... aber! er tat bringen RAUCH und (the definite plural article for) SPIEGEL! i learned my lesson... upon each visit to Ypres.. seeing the graves of supposed ethnic brothers... the anglo-parade of "individualism"... and how the Detusche were... burried: en masse... no robin: now sparrow... designated their song over the seemingly marble stones of the named... but when it came to how the Germans were... folded... brick-on-brick... a haunting reminder... the sparrow / robin always deemed it necessary to... haunt a tree with a song... for the tree to escape the polyphony of the wind... we're talking a ****** riddling... empathy with the neighbours of Europe... push from Asia that wasn't the HOO'NS... the English had a Spanish torrent: back in the day... odd... how easily the English has capitulated having invited their former colonies to the sandpit... their native women have been barren: without a sense of agency...  they still capitulate... like... there's no like quiet like it... the Spanish armada failed like the Mongolian fleet failed when the invasion of Japan was being scrutinised... why wouldn't i somehow: pity the German soldiers of world war I... entombed in mass graves... sure as **** & the constipation that comes prior... i figured it out... just today... when men... single... and send their ******* dysfunctions: clean-cut-and-perfect... they take the shot of themselves... AFTER... they have *******... obviously it looks larger... with all the blood drained from the abilities of the scribbling hand.. they take the vanity shot after they have *******... nothing worth of note: prior...

(the devil forgot to bring the fire... but... he did bring smoke und mirrors!) i mentioned this somewhere... in: alt... etwas güt! (not... gat: not gut... my gut? good... softer... german-esque) Englisch ist ein späterzunge: it made sense... when there was an Empire.. but... now? ******* rhubarb... Rue-Barb... graffiti or no graffiti? that technical observation... no articles... included... when adjectives are being "stressed"? perhaps only in german... in all the german tongues: this over-stressing of the pronouns... of definite... indefinite articles... in the ****** tongue the pronoun I... makes are rare curtain drop... Freud was right about the vanities of men... Copernicus... Darwin... but he faltered... citing himself... some languages have pronoun exclusion parameters... you can't change a grammar... while nouns are asexual i English they are "sexed" up in other languages... but you'll find it rare: to spot the ****** use the pronoun: JA... i... ich... isch... whether speaking or writibg... in terms of language... England? *******... wenigsachsen! truly... *******... like i was addressed: silly ****... verpiss dich: wenigsachsen!

i had a "friend" once: a fwend... more like someone
i shared an occasional drink with:
then again... i did most of the drinking
while he staged most of the awkwardness when
i'd: from time to time... turn into a silent boor...
anyway... i was lazy and he was fat...
or i was fat and he was lazy...
                     by one stroke of the blue moon he
thought it was wise to lose some weight
by going to the gym...
never a good idea to shed off a dozen or two or
three pounds by going to the gym...
by all means: turn to the bicycle...
turn to swimming... turn to push-ups...
stomach crunches? eh... like Socrates remarked:
i like my stomach lamb-tender...
makes it easier to continue sparring the ol'
liver with a southpaw cider before noon...
but it was never a good idea to hit the gym, bro...
to shed some weight...
now... well... he's definitely slimmer...
a no-fat content milkshake sort of a shadow
that he now casts...
but... eh... gym bro... you won't find my lifting
weights... cardiovascular exercises since:
it's the closest you get to imitating ***...
plus... when you're the wolf with the three little
piglets on a red light at a traffic junction:
all hot & bothered: heaving and hyping up
the loss of breath...
ping... go the ******* of some traffic collision
of a woman... bad bragging rights...
hell: if no one's going to use me up
for some luvyy-dubby-teddy-bear-*******
i might as well: self-deprecate myself...
- you won't find me lifting weights because
this "friend": fwend of mine has exchanged
a weight problem for a... skin problem...
nothing dermatological you see...
it's the excess of it...
   if he only listened to me and shed the weight
via the cardiovascular "method"
his torso wouldn't be looking like a interspecies
mutation of how a dried prune turned into
a phallus and magically ****** an elephant's
******...
just saying... swim... press-up... cycle...
by all means...                 hell: even explore the mind
while taking to a marathon length walk...

p.s. for anyone who's a W. H. Auden admirer...
perhaps i was too... perhaps i still sort of...
well... it's not terrible important...
but you know how homosexuals can be
these scalding / scolding ******* behind each
other's backs... or at least that's the impression
i get having revisited a passage from
Harold Norse's autobiography...
i reread it to remind myself that...
                      i might leave traces of conversational
overtones... i might not rhyme:
or bother much with: tech-niq(ue) -
although: in (brackets) - surds...
                          you write them to differentiate
what would probably some out
to tek-nick: although the -nick would extend
into meek with an N -
but it's worthwhile to remember that...

i had another "friend": fwend... he complained
that i wrote in word salads...
last time i checked: he wasn't fond of a slice of cucumber:
either...
so much for friends: "fwends"...
i'm itching at 35 years old
and i'm itching for...
beside the prostitutes that give me
the most pristine smooches...
purpose... yes... that grand: "thing":
i simply don't have a noun for what's
already readily available...

chin low: forehead: high!
(kinn niedrig:
stirn hoch!)

                rotkehlchen und / oder spaatz
auf mein fahne!

i forgot to have friends...
i have my shadow to keep me company...
ich haven mein shatten zu
halten mein... kompaine...
    i die: Adolfo: KLAR
es ist nicht: Portugiesisch:
no leash? nein: leine: or geese..

                a cat might as-alles-goot...
fall asleep...
in an around a bookshelf of
unread Rousseau...
     **** the ego... **** the most ineffective crux...
the lost pagan: the hyper-inflated
intellectual Hebrew...

came the res cogitans... so too must have come
the res venus...
i find the lack of fear of deity suspicious
surrounding the Muslim bravado...
lasts for about one...
oink-oink-...
prickling at the mythological blonde:
by the time we're through:
there might be the rarity of the ginger
Pakistani...
or the bleached beauty of Afghanistan...
the mythological blonde escapade...

thank god i''m not reproducing...
now allowance of daughter by my side...
side to sire... what?
licking out some... sorry... you're not playing
jazz: some ******* ***-hole?!
i'm glad to not be in the race
of rats...
i'm bowing out: no one said it wouldn't
be painful... it will be...

i rather die the death of a wolf
with his teeth being pulled out...
than die the death of...
estranged relatives...
social cohesion race mingling *******...
it was so nice... so nice...
when black people ****** black people
before the blakc boy discovered the white
girl...
to hell with her... as Genghis Khan
sufficed to surmount...
if it didn't happen on the shore of the Danube...
then... it didn't happen: at all..

no... i'm just tired of how the English see
***... in Belgium you could buy a *****-mag
like you'd be watching a girl put on a full show
of cow-******* and a sack: without
the hurt feelings of a niqab:

well... i get the Muslims... somehow...
they're just about ripe in being synonymous
with... French footballers...
that's what happens when you don't
fear your deity:
you become... sort of... shrapnel...
tooth-itches:
not: teeth-itching... hell...
not (a) tooth-itch...
pseudo-grammatical post- Reconquista of Spain...
the ****-
-stanis still think of themselves as:
because of the Ummah: we... the Berbers of North:
Af- Af-... ath... aph... who knows?

the Muslims are... oblivious to having
a fear of their deity...
it's not like... i sacrifice my *******...
to ******* freely...
because... i don't exactly require:
a woman on a leash... a niqab might work...
but...
Muslims are yet to evolve to fear their deity...
after the fear comes
the secular apathy...
like the one staged by the Hebrews during
the holocaust...
a god: what god?
capitulating English folk...
because Birmingham sings aloud: loot!
hey presto... it feels like:
there's looting to behold...
between you an me...
i don't mind the future or:
copper-necks
and Brazilian mulattos...

100 years from now...
the details of a Hapsburg dynasty will be worth...
the face of F.D.R. on a dime...
equivalent or: there: about...

as is due: i must: applaud the victor:
i'll die towing the remains of the day:
a sunset come the tide toward
the Faroe Isles...
where i'll breath my last into
fathoming the wind...

dodo project: last introspection...
by no god or genes...
let these people have what they utmost
deserve...
the humidity is getting to me...

i'll just... sort of die... admiring the corpus
of either the Janissaries
or the Mamluks....

to heave as much as a woman;
to enter the confines of a storm:
i 'd sooner fathom
the depth of the angered sea...
than... quest...
for the benevolence of a woman...
i've teased the depths...
i've angered the tides...
i've become:
the anchoring of the shore!

tomorrow the world ends...
thank god i'm no safe-keeping of either
Shakespeare or the Quran...
why?
toward my own privacy...
i'm sure at least one *******...
will want be revived:
just one... that might want to keep me alive..
just one? timid bunch?

have it your way: camel-jockey...
have it your way,,,
like any new-found-riches of an Arab
undermining a Bangladeshi..
**** the Arabs...
leave 'em in their...
whatever an Arab "thinks":
most probably something less than a Pakistani thinks of...
ahem: 'em...

**** the H'arabs!
best begin a reworking of: no oil involved...
with the ****'ites...
Persian pirate... to hell with the poodle
masters of the parasitical Sunnis.

This world this life
The stupidity happening
Doesn't Jive
Every generation has
These growing pains
The strains from tearing away in order
To breathe
To one it's painfull
Loosing control
It seems to the
Other half liberating to finally be
Free to chase their own destiny.
And all the cultures of the world.
Some antiquated .
Some are bizzare maybe to you
Thats a beautifull point of view... Some are glorious and are jermain to the
Pompatus of love and pertain to nuturing each other in a respectfull way the fact that we all strife to be a little different
Actually makes us the same ..
So many things to deal with and only so many days .
I say **** tyrant fear mongers and liars perverts.....
Well perverted
Deviates and murderers haters biggetries is a learned festering disease ....and to those upper crest pulling these painfull puppet strings,
Using race
To perpatrate
And create a continuous animosity I say a million written horiable tortuotus deaths sprinkled with wishes that you feel every painful thing that family and children all over the world felt and especially the victims pain shared with you over and over and over until you swim in the lake of fire .
Which is the Hell of Hell's
As it swells the soul burns continually and every fear intensifies.
Every addiction
You will withdrawal with skull shedding sorrow full of shame ravaged and ***** with serrated knifes and in you your tears and snot the vomiting stench of decaying corpses and the visions of the ones you wronged and all ya all's memories. Are
Wiped from our minds there is absolutely no way for any one to escape hide or ever have rest or respite .no one to hear you .no time ever to look to for the end .......for you it  never will .no possible way out  .
Never
Ever
Evere
Until nope  
There is no hope and no way ever.
But hey at least now you know
And also I cool with that ..
I mean well I dont wish that on anybody .
So I don't.
It's not me .
Its you.
And you got it coming.
I'm just saying
Maybe we need to look at the roots of this
.what I mean is this.
The way we teach is like subliminal messaging and
Sorta like a feathery leading the witness thing
The way it is presented is absolutely capitulating.
And that's what we'll do untill
We actually  do something
.my loves my strengths my friend neighboors and country men
It's time to unite every color everyone
End this perpetuated way of teaching
And let's start healing a reaching for the stars .....a utopia where we all are treated as equals without condensation
Because we are ..and isn't really time for a change
This money driven lottoreia society is a diarrhea of dead end dreams
We **** for what a some paper we can trade for things
**** all those things

She brighter than life suffers
Capitulating offers
You keep within
My name
My experiences
With a suffering compromise
My identity unfolds
As I relax
Myself
Keeping my goals
In the outlook of progress
I may hit crossbars
But the goal
The minutiae
All larger
Sporting of rage
Within a shooting carnage

I saw you in my mind, and I started thinking about
all the things that we used to do, how we used to
chill and conversate in my whip late at night, vibing
to the slow jams coming from the radio, escaping
into each other, the soft and luscious geometry,
the tender parts of you that we so true that I had no
control when I was with you.  I loved to believe that
being in your waves of abundant beauty was the best
thing that happened to me, how your hands played
with mine, how your eyes made my heart rise, how your
exciting design was full of flawless and astonishing poetry,
how I could look at you and smile, immersing myself in
all your handsomeness, in your chocolate flesh,
in your magical lips that felt so magnificent when I touched
them.  My body was ****** into your intoxicating creation,
unable to let go of this desire to be overpowered by your
masculinity, feeling undone as you strummed your sweet
songs on my chest, my voice saying yes, looking at you
so mesmerizingly, all in a mess, my soul aching to feel
this way forever and never let go of your arms, capitulating
to your satisfying nation.  I loved how you entered my maze
so fervently, causing sensuous sensations to build-up
without ceasing, filling me up with unbelievable lust,
making me tremble and disassemble from within,
teasing my neck and ******* with special kisses,
every sleek movement so relaxing, basking in your
dashing beauty, crashing into an overwhelming passion.
I was so into you that I never wanted to leave from this
dreamland, to drown in your creamy brown-skinned
pleasures, delving deeper in your dreadhead depths,
surrendering to it all, the pathway of temptation
that illuminates the tunnel to my inner thoughts.

how beautiful the world: ought: and was to be:
but now the serpent and apple
is no more
there's only the tongue like a worm
wrapping itself in parasitic form
around a heart of stone:
my heart:
i implore: i do give kindly...

             it's the way this beggar woman approached
me speaking at an angle 10m apart:
which is a far enough gesture to get
my attention:

all i had was the fear...
the one fear i fear most...
listen to the prologue of the Beauty and the Beast
to get to know me: better...
i am prince chamring fearful of the Enchantress...

she asked for shelter... from the storm:
currently the methodology of hieroglyphs,
cunneiform and Ethopian molasses...
what a strange dream i had:

so she asked for shelter:
40 buckles or pounds of Shylock's testimonies
came through
via a messanger attired in flaming eyes
and Ku Klux **** ghostly voodoo:
not the end of Octoberm, yet...

i flew over... all over America: H'america:
and i dropped ***** juice across
Greenland... a whiteness of the whiteest source:
insomniac suns and belly full moons
these ******* satellites!

orbits that make moods and tides
of the seas...
from what i know the Atlantic was
a dangerous crossing:
esp. from Liverpool back to homeland
Ire...

so the Polans were the people who swayed
with feld like the mongol tribes
driving horse blood and playing
arithmetic with Baghdad skulls:
i don't care the sacrelige is already there:
the Israeli barbararism of Lebanon:
only when Liban and Lebon
become invaded by these: scrupules...
then i invite the thought:

and the Vatican stranglehold over England
with the Cathedral of St. Paul's...
there's so much more
but then i don't think you have serious...
interest...
i need to book a month off from the bare
minimum of work...
i want to get hitched to an American
Girl: oh so Tom Petty...

i gave her 20 squid: a quid to squander:
i admit i do hate the English ambition:
Elgar was a terrificly terrible musician
but what a wonderful life:
orchestra in the lunatic asylum...
the life more interesting than the music:
i'll stick to Slayer...
the grandiosity of birth of Bertha...
and the generosity with it:
like...
           dyslexia is on part of the conundrum
before start to plagiarise and utilise AI
to make church bells sing like uvulas
and the reign: curators of the art of silence:

but there is a storm a happening
and Bob Dyland is out for baseball
or whatever the lackey former icon
feels like right now...

                   two check calls: coming:
none: coming...
ridicule my passiveness...
but it was so heart-warming to try to fall asleep:
i ended up with a dream
of eating out a **** of a blonde
with the perfect tash...
she raised horses on a ranch...
in the middle of a Pacific nowhere...
as i was eating out her ****
by ******: of her intimidation:
i noticed...
i was eating a **** of an angel:
lacerated on the chest:
having both wings, formerly...
and a pair of ****...
cancerous growth made this dream-*****
of mine a survivor of breast cancer...
i didn't see a pair of *******
like i might see the eyes
and nose and mouth for *****...
so the dream is distortion...

then i think...
but no: now: i doubt...
if i doubt i therefore must be in double-think
mode...
i listened to the wind
and how superior
came crashing... the concept of caves:
rather than morph the tree:
the comfort of a tiny wooden hut...
heat it up real quick and cool it down...
the wind: agape...
started to sway then talk to the pines
and other trees...

it creaked and smackered a revelation
so clear..
but i'd hate to feel like the idiot
of simply giving a woman £20: buckles...
squid...
   but she said it was her birthday
and she was an intellectual mirage...
and i'll come investing so much
   trajectory Hawaii...
i do...
            i'd rather... i will...
live under a volcano... a graft of gods tectonic...
revealing the tectonic shifts with
the births of volcanos like
the dead stone of mountains: not...

Poland is far away: like a quote
from Neville Chamberlain about the foundation
of Czechoslovakia... capitulating:
like Milan Kundera making his:
mind... right up...
Poland is far away
and somewhere in between
the history of the people of Germany
and the people of Russia...

but i'd rather...
to before God...          than the Eiffel Tower...
i'd rather be in the shadow of a mountain:
who names me her gift: his gift...
i... i must have performed oral ***
on an angel that had
wings but decided to chop off
its Sphinx suckle on them ****...
            
Gryps... the language: vernacular: slang:
of Polish prison inmates:
i'm starting to question... questions...
answers... quakes and accusations...
        
                                      there's a language
to behold: uttermost, absolutely free...
           then there's the language of the Morph...
like spice was
now dust is:
   i feel the need to feed off the dead in
ceremony...
                judgements judgements
such petty hyperbolic suggestions: to qualm:
pacify: gesticulate with sordid
ambition...

                           i am in prison planet mode:
once upon the time the world was so unknown
while everyone was seemingly known...
now that the world is known
and beyond the world the moon and stars...
so much hush-hush psy-pacifism
of the modern scrutiny of the least
modern hybrid: the chimera...

                        feast: fishing in the agony
of the mirror for the fish of ego:
but with such currents of the collective cognition:
no thought belongs to anyone:
god simply ***** thoughts and oughts
out having established the taboos...
clinging to thinking as if it were our own:
our own: there is:
how we managed to sample the cognitive stream...
the Holy Draft, formerly known as: Spiritus:
is this stream of thought:
like the Jungian collective unconscious...
parody: almost...
this living stream of thinking that
God simply deviates from...

         i doubt: therefore i must think twice:
i must think that i think...
and i have to also... alleviate myself
with seeking nothing... god apparent...
we attach ourselves to this freeflow of thinking:
no origins of coincidences and originality
will, ever, arise!

thinking arose from the ****-est-godly-manna...
in man: conjured by the ego:
ooh! that's me! perhaps... maybe...
or just: ha...  ha...                  ha...
next time you give 20qids to a beggar woman
seeking shelter:
just ask yourself...
   am i being made into a fool?
if she's honest... i made a gesture worth salvaging
to prompt memory to overcome itself
and counter with imagination the flow
of thinking like that's the only proof of god's existence:
that we simply think for our own...
what?

last time i heard thinking was squandered on
daydreaming, on logic...
on puzzles...
which shows the proving of shining:
the unstoppable agony of thought
the moral compass
when only the basic were given
and the basics, were: enough!

                        a thought is a unit of moral ought:
not law: i won't be so harsh:
because at the end of the day
there's the schizophrenic confusion
of how the hierarchy works in those sentenced:
like a ******* is the lowest of the low
and will be beyond the innocent man
falsly incarcerated...
or the murderer and the thief...

     thinking is not mine: just...
how that wind spoke to those trees...
and how the earth trebbled: in troubling and trembling...
before the wind was talking to trees
to creak and lasso lisps...
there was talk of the wind with the seas
and how there must be a siege of England!

"In the heart of every man lies a kingdom; our quest, then, is not a conquest, but the unveiling of our own majesty." - Maestro Benetto -

After the banquet with mortal dignitaries
Immortalising my royal ascension in the annals of time
I lounged against the bejeweled armchair
  Of gold and navy chiseled with regal bearings
  Inherited from the thinnest spiritline
Then communed with legends preaching from underground
To whom I raised my cane and a new tablet of liberty:
  I am a new sovereignty
  This wight of imperium constitutional - "A little flesh, a little breath, and a Reason to rule"  
  My empire never dies

Feet on the ground, eyes to the stars, and heart in union with God
With unfeigned gratitude to heavenly grace, this lordly attribute
For my honor is firm and its safe is vaulted  

As I opened my velvet curtain
   A sumptuous blend of silk and satin
   Cascaded to the floor like a soundwave
Wind blew, and so flew the birds
Away, I saw my fate over the glossy water

Heavy cape, heavy crown
Nevertheless
I'm not capitulating