Baby, you’re shaking, Tremors in your hands, your heart.
The rate of your heart is desperately flourishing
I know you’re scared. I feel your fear.
I need you to know that my hands shake as well
And I’ll never forgive if I castrate an artery
Oh, your beautiful blank arms
“Once won’t hurt.”
But soon your arms become a practice
For the doctors will look and think to themselves.
“How did she get like this?”
You think the track marks will mask the cuts!
But your just trading one addiction for another
Your arms are the definition of unzipped
In every possible way, they cry
They scream for help
They screech for more, more, more!
Convulsing, your pulse is barley thumping
Against my fingers; I cannot feel it
I’ve let this disease dominate you
I hooked a rope to your veins, a rope connecting straight to a coal from
Hell
And the manifestation
Oh, how it’s progressed. We both are consumed
Wishes for destruction. The weeping starts command.


My mother once told me to never smoke Mary
Or pop Molly
Or dance with the devil.


I suppose those warnings have been forgotten amidst the tar stuck to my brain
I want to lie with you, I want to feel your heart
I need to know you’re breathing


Sinner, Sinner.
We are going to burn.
We need to stop the heat
It possesses the angel and comforts the devil
I realize I’m not alone
But in this room under the moonlight, clutching a bottle of whiskey and
A needle blazing under my skin
I’ve never felt so lonely.
Are you in Heaven baby?
Or do you meet with Diablo in Hell?
All I know is that right now, I want to be with you
I want my affair with the fire to be real
I want the burning to be more than a sensation
Because you’re on fire
And I know it’s ******, but I don’t wish to put you out.
I will hold your hand and turn to ash,
I got you hooked; You overdosed.
I take the blame
Please forgive.

What is love?
Murasaki would say it was an obligation,
a sort of duty
where the rules
say to bury one’s emotions
and succumb to the overpowering ***.

Mian Mian embraces the sexuality
of her culture. Arguing that love
is the force behind drugs and emotion.
It is not the government’s obligation
to dictate the author’s form of rules
on writing a novel that serves its own duty.

How does Black Jade feel about her duty?
Despite her lover’s sexuality
and his matriarch’s ruling
of marrying well even if he does love
her, the family cares more of their obligation
then of their prized sons emotions.

Coco lived by her emotions.
The sickness of Tian not her duty
as it would have been in the old days. Lui’s obligation
to turn in Shiba overruled by rough ***
and her quest for painful love
in a time that disregards all form of rule.

Peony was one who broke the rules
but was rewarded for it. Unless it’s Peony #2 because her emotions
got the best of her when she fell in love
at the wrong time. It was not her duty
to see the play nor feel anything ******
in the Three Wives Commentary; this, her obligation.

Was it Abe Sada’s obligation
to castrate her lover and make her own rules?
Madame Mao too knew all about ***
and succumbed to her emotions
when her duty
was no longer to love.

From emotional red chambers with rules
on obligatory ***, the cycle of East Asian
love patterns has yet to fulfill its duty.

Your anonymous blog

To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,

but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.

You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.

You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.

With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.

poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.

literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.

To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.

– Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)

Some men make us giggle

And some men make us cry

There's one we'd like to castrate

And spit right in his eye

Some men we want to cuddle

And some men we'd rather kick

Some men make us crazy

But this guy makes us sick

They say we exist in rivers of fate
Predetermine pathways we are imprisoned in
Positions we were born for
And to disturb or ignore such strings
Would undermine the order of those things

I say we are free form individuals
With endless paths before and between us
That the reason they want to bind us to fate
Is because they want to blind us
To the weight of our own power
To makes us wait for divine intervention
Instead of having us pay attention
To our intentions and the intention of others

The wealthy and religious classes
Want to politically castrate men and women
Till we are to impotent with diffidence
Unable to make any sort of difference
But that framework doesn’t fit this
World that we seven billion strong have been gifted with
We have more power then we know
And it only grows when we explode
And show it to everyone else

unsheathe your ****
& swing away
slice the scars between
every leg

tears and blood
& latex rubber
get on your knees and bow
my 'lover'

-you are mine
i am i
rip and ride and
leave you dry

wipe those tears
from your face
open your mouth
as i fire away

swallow down we need not waste

(the system that we breed in is perpetuated by PHALLISCY ! CASTRATE THOSE WHO OPPRESS YOU!)

When clocks strike twelve and trainings end
— lurk not, they say, in school at night.
Age-old stories tell of how there’re
things that throng in fluorescent light.

In toilets silence screeches loud,
for when school’s empty, they arise:
Ghosts of pregnant girls lie wailing,
with cleaner-uncle poltergeists.

For now I sit on chilling white,
resounding prayers in my mind;
my heart racing with dire wish
a friend of Casper’s I won’t find —

Then eeeeeeek!
Is that a door creaking?
Perhaps it stemmed from my own mind,
Hinges sing as they fly open!
Thou who entered, oh be my kind!

A thud thud thud as shoes traverse
across the glinting marble floor;
and louder,
louder as they get
much nearer to my sacred door!

THEN SILENCE

or so I wish!

But a loud knock takes my breath away.
The unlatched bolt lies there lazing
HOW’D I FORGET TO LOCK TODAY?

A hand thrusts in so hard and swift,
door’s open ‘fore I can react!
I’m facing now a girl my age,
She bawls at me with little tact —

Eyes bloodshot and tummy bloated,
“YOU DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YE?!”
I dash out of the girls’ toilet
before she tries to castrate me.

Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.* - Jorge Guillén

Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
The train and the woman filling the sky.
Your shy solitude in the hotels
and your pure mask of another sign.
It is the sea's childhood and your silence
where the wise windows were breaking.
It is your stiff ignorance where
my torso was limited by fire.
I gave you the norm of love, man of Apollo,
the lament of a crazed nightingale,
but, pasture of ruin, you sharpened yourself
for brief, indecisive dreams.
Thought head on, light of yesterday,
indices and signs of what may be.
Your waist of restless sand
follows only trails that never rise.
But without you your warm soul
fails to understand. I must search
the corners of a halted Apollo
that I've used to break the mask you wear.
There, lion, fury of heaven,
I will let you graze on my cheeks;
there, blue horse of my madness,
pulse of nebula and minute hand,
I must search for scorpion stones
and your mother's childhood clothes,
midnight lament and torn cloth
that wiped the moon from the dead man's temple.
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.
Strange soul of the space in my veins,
I must search for you, small and rootless.
Love of always, love of never!
Oh, yes! I want. Love. Let me be.
Don't cover my mouth, you
who search for Saturn's seed in the snow
or castrate animals in the sky,
clinic and jungle of anatomy.
Love, love. Childhood of the sea.
Without you your warm soul fails to understand you.
Love, a doe's flight
through the endless breast of whiteness.
And your childhood, love, and childhood.
The train and the woman filling the sky.
Not you, not I, not air, not leaves.
Yes, your childhood now a fable of fountains.

Stand up. Give me your full ******* attention.

Don't pretend you can effortlessly, carelessly produce a "real work", seated, with one eye on self-awareness, a tongue wedged in a cheek with one foot in the grave of perceive- opinion, not yet received, with a cool smirk on a proud chin sat atop a cool fist on a hard wrist on an indifferent arm held up by numb tendons leading down to a self-deprecatory elbow, the joints forming a fierce coalition of empty strength, that separates you from the hellish fire of embarrassment, the horrifying depths on mediocrity, that tempers the hot heart with a cool head.

Cast asunder the filthy cancer stick who pours its stinking grey ash upon the clacking, laughing keys. Throw that glass of water (for tomorrow) on the floor, step on its shards and dance, embracing them in soft padded flesh. Castrate the ***** of the feet and bleed out the last vestiges of your projected third person that stalks you like a shadow.

Ignore the clock that tocks and ticks towards tomorrow, towards a real life of bills and rent, distill your repent and drink deep brother. Sense the too-familiar scent of childhood fear borne out of decades of internalised guilt and tell me that it isn't sweet tonight, if this isn’t worth staying up for then I dare you to present me with a life worth going to bed for.

So strip yourself in front of this mirror, off each layer of potential, pretension, self-satisfied introspection, flawed, self-assured contentment that whispers that if only you applied yourself once in a while the confused mess of thoughts, regrets murmered under-breath, and little deaths that never escape the abstract place might one day add up to something of concrete beauty. Shatter the sardonic prism through which you view each new offering from those whose cardinal-sin was actually trying -that affords your cackling Medusa that the caustic chorus of “I could do better if I wanted to”.

Well don't you?

Tear down the veil between you and what you can't put off any longer; inspect the flabby mess of sores, leaving the limp **** to shrivel against the chill. Let the goose-bumps cluster like tumours. Like it or not this is you. Better live in bitter disappointment than forever bear the dead weight of mendacious expectation.

Cast poisonous complacency aside and hurl yourself against smirking canvas. You cannot win. You will die in a fluid florid final frenzied flourish; you will look this creeping inertia in the eye and just and say truthfully, for the first time I am not afraid of you.

Give me black despair any day over this living death.

Give me the truth, without distractions.

I grew up between bookends
with the holy word held between
one fell off the shelf with no amends
now the shelf is filled with words unseen

So I read of other options
now I question the thread
of these fairy tale adoptions
which have been so deeply embedded

Christian school, weekly church, prayers before bed
my childhood filled with these epic tales
of a guy who died and then rose from the dead
and if you don't believe, well, see you in hell

They are good stories, some even great
but that's all they really are
to live by them is to live a life castrate
burning bush and a man inside a whale, a little bizarre

I am not mad I grew up this way,
but now I live a life of questioning
of what's beyond the pearly gates
without all of the one sided lecturing

do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******

forget the critics
the naysayers
the reviews

forget those who pounce
at first glance with
unsolicited feedback

forget those who wait
with serrated edges
for the unveiling
of your back

forget those who lambaste
and castrate your creativity

or worse, those who
try to help you
improve it

and then there are those who
uplift and support your work

say thank you
and
forget them
too.

forget about polishing the knobs
off the editors of poesy or
the literary brotherhood
and sisterhood

forget about your friends,
your enemies and
your audience
all together

they are a cough drop
trying to cure an illness

do it
the way it was meant to be done:
without obtrusion
without approval
without asking

don’t allow them
to cloud your mind
with judgment
of any kind

do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******.

Godless men wearing back
sit within blistering sun.
As they carrying their sacred book
soaked in an evil not from any GOD.  
And they some how get
**** **** ****
**** for God.
As they ironically tell the
world that it is
blaspheming.

Come and join us
or be buried alive.
Yes come and join us
Let us brutalize and castrate
your daughter your child.
And give your son a gun while
we go cut of some heads.
As we rip out your heart
with blood and violence.
And ask you to spit on all
love and humanity.
As you stand within your shaking bodies
you look into the eyes of your
wife and only see terror in
her heart.
You know that you must
RUN

Thousands of you are swept
like the dirt into the sea.
Mothers and Fathers crying as
children are lost and drowning.
Someones baby washed up like
drift wood or a log.
Cut all with razor wire
climbing caged out fences.
As a heart cry's I only want a
new family home I will polish
your shoes wash all your loos.
Please they scream we are only
human
Sorry I don't think anyone
is listening.  

Westerners wake up lounging
on their sofa belly's spilling
over their trouser.
Stomachs extended inflated
from just a little to much
extra seconds.
Looking on disconnected
at those who traveled risked
their lives even walked
a thousand miles.
And some how spill out with
their lager down their cheek
thieves  ****** and
lazy freeloaders.

And those who succeed to
find a new home some how
elegantly find a dignity
in being unwanted.
And those who failed their
perilous path trust in God
has left them homeless
As they find the west
also Godless.
As we with a cool glare tell
them go back to your guns
bombs your not welcome
here.
Stone face matter of fact
immigration explained
take your children back.
As we try to through them
back like babies into a dog
or snake pit.
SHAME ON US
for this frosty reception
and cloudy perception
I hold out hope for a
better conclusion.

This is poison,
"Statistics show
that one out of every
three black men
will spend time in prison
in his lifetime."

This is the remedy,
"I sit alone in my room drinking."

I feel like
society has tried to castrate black men,
because our *****
are so harmful,
especially to white women.

We break them,
make them unfit for society
right?

Statistics make us inhuman.

My skin color
has to be more than a distinction,

**** this *******,
Imma move to Alaska
and forget the girls I loved
and the ones that loved me
even though it was detrimental to them.

Somewhere between going
and gone,
I left a piece of me.
Somewhere between going
and gone
I sang between two keys.
Never quite this way
or that.
Never reaching high enough,
or sinking low enough.
I would vacillate
and it left me prostrate -
lying face down
somewhere between going
and gone.
Somewhere between going
and gone
he seduced me.
Somewhere between going
and gone
I sang between two keys
never quite his key
or yours.
Never giving quite enough
but taking far too much.
So I would castrate
and underestimate
that your love for me was
somewhere between going
and gone.

One American right
One American wrong

One American fight
One American song

One American white
One Ameri  Con

If one Nation under God
Indivisible
Y
Yahweh or the highway
Huhhh


If equality won
Y
E pluribus sub human

What's good for the whole
What good for the union

What's freedom for each one
Without justice for Trayvon

Words with much thought
Wisely wrote but forgot

All men could be free together
But only together could man be free

Earth moon sun are three
But only all together do they become
Heavenly bodies

Sea to shining sea
En gulf to frozen mystery
What are we if we
Castrate parts of our history
While we curate the ugly past with watered down memory

The spiral mounds of the midWest the man-made lakes
And Delta dunes
Mud bugs tumbleweeds Allycats street rats
Rags and ruins
Like white and yellow lines we've all been through em

Don't lose your heart we're too close to the start
Of something beautiful
You see these potholes become waterfalls
World wars become
Redemption songs and until we
Truly see each other keep asking
Why can't we all just get along?

But let's keep asking it
The answer will be echoed
The truth will reverberate
Soon we will find that love rings louder than hate

Soon we'll find mute much better on most channels 1- 8
Any channels profiting to opine you only what denigrates
AM rifts while FM skates in 50 of our 55 states
We assume two makes 4 but we play with fire
And keeping score in a game that's no game
Death is the only thing that comes from war

What makes you great can make you weak
If you can't look back and reckon with what was trampled under feet
What makes you great can make you weak
When simplicity is chosen over detail reality ( tweek)
What makes you great can make you weak
When macho men can't be questioned while in seat
What makes you think is what should make you retweet

Example
The statement they tried to make
No discrimination everyone has an equal stake
But not a single number does this statement equate
When 0 out of any American lobby more than a corporate

Sample
The right to bear with the right to speak
But they can no knock and release the heat
But not one bank in jail when you have no food to eat
No peace and Justice in the street
When the leadership can't apologize or reverse the rally speech
You want kids to participate
but you only talk to them about what you hate
No words to which they relate
Next thing they know you ban the apps they populate
Now who they gonna tolerate?
You disenfranchise before you meditate
vilify right before their eyes left
To roll a rainbow of how both sides are deaf

Before the Dawn Of  Agriculture men like ME where slapped into the shadow of ****** shame but now who needs muscles or chiseled chins, great size or strength, a lover’s passion or a manly countenance ‘cause  for ten thousandyears now I  can persecute any female for infidelity towards ME  and hold paternity privilege over MY biological  children  because we exceptional farmers invented marriage to  destroy human sexuality  by enslaving women with MY property for *** so I no longer need to share or compete or settle for an alpha males’ sloppy seconds within foraging groups  that are forced to share what they carry  with them instead of our  enforced legal couplings that takes the innocent, primal pleasure and mystery out of *** by connectingshtooping  to birth thanks to dirt MY dirt MY very own thousand acres of seeded soil littered with pens full of  MY trapped sheep, cattle, goats and pigs which means I can pork any female  I fancy and  destroy any man who thwarts MY desire as simply as the bulls I castrate  into submission to easily herd  into MY  slaughterhouses that feed all the inferior people no longerdependent on their hunting and gathering skills but on ME to stay alive so not only am I not considered a sociopath by hoarding food but am praised at harvest time like a ******* Babe Ruth hero because I have legally claimed and legally ***** those precious few life giving inches of topsoil with rotating crops and extended grasslands that exhausts and shrinks the earth, MY earth MY reign of  forcing agricultural workers  to bend over in the fields, stupidly exposing hairless backs to sun poisoning  instead of their protective hunters’ heads of hair  harvesting MY food that shrinks the  testicles of everyone who is forced to feed on the  cheap calories of MY  industrialized plants and animals that lowers fertility, but who needs big ***** anymore when you don’t have to **** larger animals  in order to survive or attract females with your superior physical attributes proving I am the social parasite Sultan of Swat who grows fat on the food  I’ve  seized by stealingPaleo land in the name of government protected ownership.

You cannot change other people.
Regardless, it's rude to try.

Would you really want that kind of control, anyway?
To castrate the potential of a Mind you do not understand?

Maybe you should free your Mind, instead.

I dumped SuperGirl because her ***** are hard as rocks.
They are literally harder than concrete cinder blocks.
I should've known they were hard because bullets bounce off of them.
******* that aren't soft should be a crime because it is so grim.
When I broke it off, she made my life a living hell
She burned down my house and ****** in my well.
If you think that was bad, you won't believe the other things that she did.
She lied to Social Services, she said that I abused my son and I lost my kid.
She put an end to my *** life when she used her laser beams to castrate me.
My manhood has been taken and no jail will hold the ***** so she's going free.
My life has fallen to pieces, I would give anything for some Kryptonite.
I would also want Batman's armor suit so I could **** that ***** in a fight.
Don't even think about dating SuperGirl, believe me when I say that it is no fun.
If you date her and break it off, you'd better have a Kryptonite bullet in your gun.

I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses

The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection

"We set the standards, baby"

An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust

The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness

We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to 
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent 

Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of 
the sun 
the moon 
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis

My brothers,
These are our 
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol

Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming 

I worked for the 
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for *her.

Relationships are all about balance
Being the yin to a yang
The subtle base to someone's loud twang
And while balance is crucial behind those doors
Why do people like to castrate the love someone else managed to create, just because the couples nationalities aren't yours?

They're not too good to date someone that happens to share their skin
But they found someone that makes them happy as a lark without and within
So really... is happiness an unforgivable sin?

Dear Husband,

i did not mean to scare you
when you came out the shower naked
and i said
if there were a ****** in the house
i would handcuff him to the radiator
castrate him
take out the blender
have him watch me
turn on the switch
pinch his nose
make him drink himself