Unfortunately, the sun does set at night
and I am no longer able to see your face in the sunlight.
As I reach out my hands to find your cheeks
silk honey skin greets me.
You open your eyes and I see them perfectly.
They're blue like water that has frozen over
I see myself drifting away in the seas chillingly.

Sweetheart, don't leave the bed tonight.
Lose yourself in the sheets
and drown in all the oversized blankets.
It's too cold outside to be alone this time.

It's 10 pm and I want to stay here forever
I will not grow tired of you
It is not possible, you see I smile all the time when you're near.
Let's grow old to the grey,
Never let this get boring.
But for now, sleep with me here until the morning

well the left is dead, and the left turned into tartan, i guess the islanders
are gearing up to a male patriarch where ***** go free with jealousy
rather than queened freely;
i know the left died, but to have it third day resurrect
in scotland, i'd never think the tories flavoured
outside of plum plucked blue;
only when a politics is unappealing to quote no vote,
is a change of monarch at hand,
and then why such the left disappear almost completely?
it's one thing for tyranny to leave a listening airy cleft
where once thought reigned tyrannically un-dialectical,
but it's another cased scenario to suddenly
lever a man to contort into a female face on either
photograph or coin, so we leave the wonders of chillingly
easy rhymes of song from the 1960s to the 21st complex,
and we leave the reign almost feeding a reprimand
for the multi-cultural having no artistic endeavour
in a counter. multi-cultural will not provide a counter-culture,
given the scenario of tyranny to aggregate all into taxable citizens,
perhaps that's rome shrunk into the vatican for the alphabet to survive,
perhaps why latin is "dead" and perhaps why poetry is dead,
because the only walky talkies are women in retirement;
forget dialectics even, remind yourself of dialogue first!
in the end, like the pre-socratics, i'll be a snippet of words
to bruise myself on fame post-mortem;
of course i live in readied tyranny, no one votes
and the left of politics was taken my northern nationalists...
in the end, thank **** at least that happened!
the king wears a kilt!
and? better my youth be a foolery in the realm of vocabulary
than prancing in tutu and bra on a table in ibiza;
yes, i'll be courteously french while i age in the silent winery:
that place where you won't even hear a corkscrew.*

the politics is long, i'd rather live on nn the faroe islands,
but it reminded me of a charles in henry's nursery rhyme:
charles the first survived, slow motion:
beheaded, in ****, later did some philanthropy;
conspiracy almost ******, gaffed choking on a peanut peel, never married -
entered the nunnery via public opinion that'd never allow a scandal or a ****** birth.

intelligence is uncomfortable,
let's leave it to the pigs
or play dead among the dogs,
or levy it with questions in gushing recurrence;
intelligence is uncomfortable,
let's utilise it with someone saying:
i rather speak to someone 100 prior or 100 years after.

or as later proved: among the citizens an uncomfortable censor
was a woman, that's the thing:
misogyny and homosexuality are almost alike:
gays love to talk to women but loath to butter up a sour bread dough,
misogynists loath to talk to women but love to **** 'em;
where's the middle way buddha? where's the middle way?
socrates turning into a misogynist disguised in homosexual accents
in old age? the old man got away with acceptable norms in old age,
almost, they figured out his **** pure and minded his cranium crucible divergence
from: young boys readied for pedophiles spoke more flowers
than my wife while cooking compost of fruits!

ah! i live in a spicy tomorrow, gearing up to charles the third's
reign with talk of the amputated left limp either side of the diaphragm
equator, hence the scot nationalists,
whereby we have beauty anorexic strutting eager for a faint in a cabbage patch,
and we best test tube in pigmenting alkali,
writing songs about life, not poetry of that ideal: "from the cosmos"
of autobiographic detail of metaphysics to exclude evil from a humming choir;
or as i took to my father in sepia:
beauty in anorexia, language in bad grammar and even more a terrible spelling
that never experienced the lines of detention to conform,
and then all the moral freedoms to not think about
and when thought about, quickly attached to **** smear
girly literature;
but do i go around talking of my easily-read literature?
so why this italian pole girl ruining my diary of saved orientated ordination?
she jealous or just illiterate the she-troll of all?

misogynists are like homosexuals, although the prior have no politico thumb,
we love ******* the brains out, we hate being boyfriends
from magazines or the psychology sections of saturday newspapers editions;
plus we like our own company, which is hard to grasp;
i mean, we love women within the membrane of ****** temperatures twinning,
but that's hardly the right temperature for conversation akin to vishnu and lakshmi.

Holocaust Poem: "On The Slaughter"
by Chaim Nachman Bialik
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Merciful heavens, have pity on me!
If there is a God approachable by men
as yet I have not found him—
Pray for me!

For my heart is dead,
prayers languish upon my tongue;
my right hand has lost its strength
and my hope has wilted, undone.

How long? Oh, when will this nightmare end?
How long? Hangman, traitor,
here’s my neck—
rise up now, rise and slaughter!

Behead me like a dog—your arm controls the axe
and the whole world is a scaffold to me
although we—the chosen few—
were once recipients of the Pacts.

Executioner, my blood’s a paltry prize—
strike my skull and the blood of innocents will rain
drenching your pristine uniform again and again,
staining your raiment forever.

If there is Justice—quick, let her appear!
But after I’ve been blotted out, should she reveal her face,
let her false scales be overturned forever
and the heavens reek with the stench of her disgrace.

You too arrogant men, with your brutal injustice,
suckled on blood, unweaned of violence:
cursed be the warrior who cries "Vengeance!" on a maiden;
such cruelty was never contemplated, even by Satan.

Let innocents’ blood drench the abyss!
Let innocents’ blood seep down into the congealing darkness,
eat it away and undermine
earth's rotting foundations.

Al Hashechita ("On the Slaughter") was written by Chaim Nachman Bialik in response to the ****** Kishniev pogrom of 1903, which was instigated by agents of the Czar who wanted to divert social unrest and political anger from the Czar to the Jewish minority. The Hebrew word schechita (also transliterated shechita, shechitah, shekhitah, shehita) denotes the ritual kosher slaughtering of animals for food. The juxtapositioning of kosher slaughter with the slaughter of Jews makes the poem all the more powerful and ghastly. Such anti-Semitic incidents prompted a massive wave of Eastern European emigration that brought millions of Jews to the West. Unfortunately, there have been many similar slaughters in human history and the poem remains chillingly relevant to the more recent ones in Israel/Palestine, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Bialik, translation, slaughter, massacre, God, prayer, executioner, hangman, blood, innocents, justice, false, scales, injustice

Since I had returned from the missing,
In life from family and loved ones.

Loss of Dearly Beloved Partners,
Whereby certain words had been,
Unnecessary with those of very deep bonds.

Sure I understand, understood then,
What I dared not spoke of truly with embodied beings.

It was a true joy Easter 1978,
To get together with your family.
Mom , Dad and Steven had been there.

We had a chance to talk as young adults,
Perhaps get to know each other in such a new way.

Sure you 16, said 'you were woman',
I have long since found the words of;

'I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her my heart but she wanted my soul
Don't think twice, it's all right.'

Chillingly haunting still!!
For better and or worse still!!

But there we were young enough adults,
You were so receptive and I spoke in your earnest attention.
While too I picked up many subtle things by you,
Few words came back.

But you listened so well my friend whom I saw.
Surely I was open and in dire need to tell my story to a soul alive.
I refer to such as 'my little sermon on the mount' still at any price.
And so I believed in you as some partner then there indeed.

Not necessarily as unfolded, but such all did.
'We never did to much talking anyway';

Well not so true at all really on the contrary.
But 'Jeremiah was a Bull Frog';

Apparently,

I'm not sure if either understood a word said to this very day.

'What was it you wanted';
Can you say?

You tell me I can't,
Never could.

Claims of 'Christ Discipleship' in differing ways!!

Joy To The World

And I can take all detail like a wild man, savant,
Roll around the 'wheel of spectrum disorders' I know.

Still know just One thing!!!
We have been here before in oh so many ways!!

On one hand I understand 'All Complications',
Oh so simply of All Gods Children!!
On the other hand none at all.

So hard to understand and accept all at once!!

I always knew you,
By Eve of Halloween's Eve later same year;
Or more acutely so very soon thereafter that;

You were somehow my 'nemesis';
That was would produce my 'dark night of soul';

I was once again conquered,
By just one moment of doubt

Dark Knight
Loving Brightly

I was even joyed by that!!

Still I would believe in things,
I was already assured of in this my life;

'The World'
We live in

Here
Hear

In these now's.

I sum up 'The Word' Bible in just one Word,
By that 'Red Letter Word' at the Last Supper.

About LOVE sure,
But just two letters;

'AS'

As in;
'Just love one another 'AS' I have loved you'!!

Which was with Gods;
  
Gifts of 100% Judgement on with Zero Judgmentalness!!

That is my friend and partner most true I only understand!!

Good News Being Good!!!

Christians say 'well hey look Moses had 10 then expounded 5 books beyond as Torah.

Well,
See!!!

Shaman Master J

Got's that down to just 2 !!;

'Love God with all your heart and your neighbor as yourself'!!!

Ya and in front of the corrupt politicized,
Blasphemed powers of the Hebrew leaders that day!!!

Reciting the Torah
Standing on one foot!!

~8~~~
Days a Week

Wow!!!
Huh!!!

Well truth be he was just reciting,
The living word near verbatim of the last minor prophets in those last days!!!

Otherwise he would and did say like the Greeks,
In marble on their temple and as I know,
Easier otherwise to say;

'Know Thyself';

All creation is within all things,
So therefor on this path of inner self honesty,
With the message we all inwardly receive,
It all lines up and all mystery ceases to be!!!

So no I do not understand,
Certain types of complications,
No I don't.

All so overly simple to me!!

You have always overly impressed me,
In oh so many ways, such inherent 'gifts';

But they must breathe or what are they.

We may be off charts at different ends;
Yet I still know how close to very fine are these lines between!!

Yet,

'Liteheart5'

'Lite125'
~8~~
Fly Free!!!!

~3~~
Be yet between!!!

Even
AS Shaman Master J;

/ so much typical association with one letter / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/just-love-one-another-as/

Happy Birthday,
Always, All Ways!!!

From a text you might recall,
I poemalized by whom in your contact list,
By phone I have been,
Dubbed 'Ron the Lord'!!!!

Garlic Really??? or !!!
Sure I can understand your heart / that just assume chop garlic really / ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/garlic-really-or/

Yes 'hued partner,
We too ~2~ can,
Be family!!!

Still
~3~~ between!!!
Us Two!!

~~5~~~
Too
Must Breathe

<3<3:):):)!!! R
Not so complicated!!!!

Illegally Separate
You some other me / some how wherefore / way; / X'YZleeeping; / I ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/illegally-seperate/

The New Dew Due, 'Double Triple Two Steps' Forward!!!
Believe as 'The Heavenly Father" speaks life living within you!! / Than cast continually ...
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/the-new-dew-due-double-triple-two-steps-forward/

eYe
Will Always
Love You!!! Ra, Ra Ron!!!

I have written some beautiful things about you!!
Some in paper hoards somewhere like;

"30 Trillion Light Year Journey"
'08 that date I am certain of!!

'Stitched without a trace',
A beaut,
I'd love to dig up,
Idk where but paper,
It is somewhere here!!!

'Worlds Most Wanted Woman',
Stuck on my old phone will be retrieved at some point,
Stored in it's memory viable I know,
Was a long text or series,
I know you so love!!!

Yes by 'Ron the Lord'!!!!
<3<3:):):)!!!

LOVE!!!R

Ty Josephine!!!!

*~Sa Sa, Ra!!!~~

It came like a sudden darkness, storming up and snuffing out the already fading light of dawn,
When I found myself floating, above the ground suspended on the backs of blue clouds that kissed the purple sky like a clinging lover
Chasing the movement of birds before my eyes I turned to stare down at the blackness beneath my toxic cloud of color, at the puke green sea covered in the orange foam of soda where what looked like the remnants of my breakfast that morning road the frothy waves.

Pink,
Pink
Pepto-Bismol stained whales attacked the early air blowing bubbles filled with what looked like Oreo cream screaming happily the music of contentment
A cry a loud mewling filled the acid induced happiness of the moment, yowling agonizingly, as if possessed by the spirit of pain itself.
Thumping, Screeching clash and the ***** of nails had me blinking away from my floating tea party within the sky and looking rather questionably to the hunky dream boat pouring me a fresh glass of tea,
His smile plastered by the very gods themselves didn't waver, and in my dreamlike stupor I thought nothing of it
But the terrified yowling, hissing, strange purr-mewl didn't stop.

The sky no longer a pleasant purple faded to a nasty shade of plum conjuring two disembodied chillingly green slated eyes
Frantic with irrational fear I panicked falling off my blue cloud to plummet towards the angry green sea below
Falling, Falling ever faster staring up at the sinister glowing ambient green eyes, whilst hearing that terrifying screeching yowl, from the Cheshire maw
Slamming awake with the tingling sensation of a ghostly belly flop, I find myself still staring up at those eerie green eyes.

This time surrounded by a flowing mane of toffee fur and speckled with tan zigzagging stripes of inky black,
Buddy, with his demanding meow of attention, insistently pawing my forehead with the command of a gentle rub,
Plucking my wings, and crippling me with a cuteness that only he can have.

escape with me, starry-eyed
a smoky shadowland
where sin is infinite
hell warmly embraced
and lust a syrupy *****.

desire is so crookedly pristine
when untouched by
the ugly delusion you call love

luring, seducing
the inky ebony of eve
coaxes us sweetly, chillingly
to join its empty prisoners --

passion aches
inject me with your raven smoke;
crave me,
consume me

come and dip with me in the night
where our veiled vices can find relief;
its venom will feed my impure nocturne
and your wicked clutches can snake into
the perverse piths of my phantasm and person.

My halved and broken soul aches for completion.
My heart yearns to play its beat.
A rushing capillary symphony,
Alongside the sweet song of my lover's lips.
Striving from toe to tip,
treading the infinite reaches of each other's eternal depths.

My spirit searches for the end
of nothingness...
For vibrance at the joining of our brief existence,
The exultation,
At the union of one final, blessed embrace!

Yet I'm trapped in shallow seas,
faced with my own puzzle piece.
Where nothing fits,
all rocky crags and jagged cliffs.
Never once catching glimpse,
Of another's jigsaw life that could resemble it.

I remain...
So chillingly alone.
Swept along a current of cruel time that will not relent.
A race to the end!
To find my one, my love,
For new life together, to begin.

I need you to fall into me
Stumble, please!
Slip and land,
In my waiting hands!
Please come along and breathe
The urgency back into life again.
That with purpose renewed,
I may finally stand,
Presenting myself,
A lowly sacrifice,
To you, my Goddess,
I would give my dying breath
My very life!
Leap between you and any knife!

O! For a single chance to trade,
Every drop of my blood in exchange,
For your perfect kiss.
I would offer up my disembodied beating heart,
If you were to bid,
For you to take and do with as you wish.

Unmask your tenacious wit,
And please consider this:
If you were the pedals, may I be your stem?
If you were light may I be your dawn?
If your heart is drowning, may I rescue it?
If your voice did bless this world and sing,
My love, my heart, my only one...
May I be your song?

All my candle wax has gone down half way
In two days
When there lit I'm in such a daze

There aroma is sweet
They help me cheat
Cheat my way through life, I close my eyes under my sheet
And pretend I'm roaming the streets

Its scent intoxicates
I take the bait

Willingly
Chillingly

I'm in the world I want
Oh and trust me it taunts

I think about changing my life when I wake up
But, I know I will just closeup

In this dream land

I speak
I don't seem weak

But I come back to my senses
I throw the sheets off of me, I look around, there are my imaginary fences

I blow out my candles

I say farewell
Now back to my life, mind, that I call hell

i still believe that φ (phi) and θ (theta) used to be a grapheme, akin to the Trojan / Roman æ, cf. Virgil's the Æneid, then too a γraφeme in german: ß, not necessarily scharfes, but rutschig s... a slippery s... s the marijuana fiend all hippy and ****, then the z, using Beat vocabulary slang, the suited and booted for either war or the office environment □ (square)... i still believe φθ used to be a grapheme... separated at birth... as with V so too Φ and Θ have the prime incisors' touch the bottom lip to be said, honestly, the bottom lip makes more bone-interactions than the upper-lip; criticism is a type of medicine, you either take it... or bite the bullet. but hear a German utter the disparity: noticeable given Rammstein: ich v. sachen: i.e. ich (-sh) v. sashen or simply sahen - maybe learning Yiddish would help - the error, apart from the Malachi introduction of polytheism with two Elijahs? well, i helped you once, i won't help you again, one proof means no repetition, boorish Moses dragged from high status and belief in a birthright to garbage, from the right-hand of the Pharaoh that Joseph was, to the lowly pits of bricklayers - English bricklayers are 'appy, indeed the Grecian dispute over the surd Ηη (eta), on a hunch... hitch-hiking letter - Hitchens attacked mother Teresa, i attacked John Paul the soocoond... a Turk with grievances illuminated the story further... pope forgave the ****** in a prison cell, once law was enforced, the mighty confusion between sins (perversions) and outright bookmaker's testimony concerning the gambling of laws. i still believe φθ used to be a grapheme... look toward languages that instil the pressures of tongue-tying-tornadoes... if it weren't the grapheme ß, i'd say it was a dance between s und zee, in that the tango was danced, and the mantis convened its presence with alimony or other tactics for the hangman to fidget on the noose; obviously as confusing as to place Backgammon alphabetically coerced with ßimilarity.

poetry hasn't been altogether banished from
the republic - i concede that poetry is
best written in a frenzy - drunk - intoxicated
with whatever is deemed necessary,
prior to the battle of Hastings (1066), Harold's
army drank and drank and drank -
berserker alternative to *****? mushrooms -
so if no battle, no vain hope to compete
with Achilles - then in poetry too, phantoms
in white, cutting and bruising with every word
emerge - a solemn pledge to the art.
well, poetry hasn't been totally banished,
it's an undercurrent - manoeuvring tactic
of intelligent argument - so many poetic techniques
are used when one suddenly appears ridiculous,
sooner or later people fall back on metaphor,
with such sly excuses: oh, not really, metaphorically
speaking - oh but that's just imagery - etc. etc.
poetry is kept, precious in every circumstance in
the **** sapiens brain - to keep appearances -
to sober up - oddly enough - poetry as a method
to sober up from a frenzy of rhetoric - the 'not really'
of things that pass - it's the usefulness of disguise,
the ridiculous and pompous can suddenly take
on priestly demur - suddenly any traces of religiosity
disintegrate, and a cold and hardened heart emerges
with crystalline belief in the ruler, the protractor
and all manners of *the sensibility of science,
anything not humbled by science is deemed childish...
chillingly this childishness is also the childishness
waving a machete or firing a Kalashnikov - oh how
childish it becomes - the ***** to take someone's life...
great disputes in heaven, about four angels are
pop, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and Satan -
total pop culture up there - anyway, it's not the glorification
of science is fairing well, to glorify science while
being a pauper with a limited scientific vocabulary is
already entrenched, so much so that the proof is there
regarding what's happening in western societies -
to create a universal vocabulary - a tactful one,
a vocabulary that does not impress because it does not
offend - a silk vocabulary, scientifically speaking
a smooth vocabulary, perfected to be pitched so that
the overall un-offended apathy of the listener is kept,
gay is out, homosexual is in, god forbid you mention
the word pederast or simply **** - god forbid,
bite your nails, say your mea culpa prior to jumping
into bed and all is well on the western front -
it's a revolution, didn't you hear? they say iron chains
i say liquorice tangles that can be eaten through -
apologies if your palette is not suited to the particular
Anise; but a revolution nonetheless - how did we get
to the point of trying to limit other people's vocabulary?
but of course certain words contain certain emotions,
better feel dread and disgust than an emotional flatline
with no emotion present. regarding pop culture
in heaven, ever hear the names: zehpanuryay,
abirzehyay, atarigiash, nagarniel, anpiel, naazuriel,
sastiel? you probably haven't - but it's not like you'd
keep names such as: the family of amine-boranes,
ammonia-carboxyborane, tamoxifen, paraaldehyde,
dihydropyran, polyester / dacron / mylar made from
dimethyl tereφθalate and ethylene glycol...
so what's more ridiculous? funny enough, the only
remaining aspect of the English language retaining
its roots in Saxony is expressed in chemistry,
the obvious lack of hyphen usage - chemistry is the
only revealing essence of English as having origins
in German, the excessive compounding of words,
chemical nouns that require a breathing technique
and a good optical scalpel to pronounce them -
as is well known, Germans don't believe in keeping
shrapnel, they see wordy shrapnel they get the grammatical
kiln out and melt everything together, e.g.
staatlichverantwortung (duty to the state, civic duty),
only in chemistry is the German a thick block of writing,
elsewhere it's aquatic or even gaseous - one
word jokes: Richard - ****... Mr. W. Kerr - Wayne.

I sit here on this messed up balcony that has all essence of home
Yet,
All i think about is the view right before me
The size of the mountains repel me
But that makes me more drawn to its diabolic beauty
Flashes of every story and legend I've read takes place in those mountains
And my eyes betray me by refusing to look away from this dream catcher
In the distance the rain collapses and it reminds me why i live in this town
Of my love towards the smell of the rain provides
Nothing is more hypnotizing
It gives me a chillingly warm feeling as the chains hold me in this messed up hell of a balcony

She walks delicately,
carefully, easily.
Right on by you.
She talks quietly,
beautifully, gracefully.
Right next to you.
Quickly she locks you in.

She whispers seductively,
huskily, sexily.
Right into your ear.
She says sweet things,
cute things, great things.
Straight to you.
And now she's getting through.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She smiles cutely,
quickly, embarrassed.
Just to get to you.
She blushes deeply,
innocently, easily.
While getting ready for you.
She has got you chained now.

She acts timidly,
shyly, less boldly.
To get closer to you.
She treats you well,
kindly, graciously.
Just to lie to you.
She's got you begging.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds your heart frighteningly,
tightly, brightly.
Making her own you.
She looks strong,
powerful, unforgettable.
Showing herself to you.
And now you see through it all.

She steps lightly,
passionately, happily.
Over to you.
She seems cruel,
evil, sinister.
Having played you.
Too bad it's nearly the end.

Her heels clack.
He nearly spat.
But all you do is stare.
The way she talks is planned.
The way she walks--rehearsed.
All those things were petty lies.
But it's too late.

She holds herself dignifiedly,
highly, gloriously.
As she brings the knife to you.
She cuts deeply,
thrillingly, chillingly.
Straight into you.
If only you had known.

She moves smoothly,
willingly, cutely.
Right on by you.
She is biter,
sinister, crazy.
As she continues.
And it restarts, nothing new.

I

I'm trying t' find my ID.
I think I'm missing it.
This thing,
This bright, shining light,
It's hiding in my blindsight.
I'm swimming in mist,
Trying t' find ... "I"

First I'm living
In my crib;
Clinging wrists.

Flitting my crib,
I'm Shy
Crying, whiny twit, missing bitty,
With stinky kids, kicking kitty.

I'm missing my crib.

I'm piling thinking bricks with big kids.
Slimy, smirking ***** hiss 'n' spit.
I'm sitting still in ill-fitting shirts,
shirking sight.
Hiding might blind ****** kids crying, "It's billy!!! Skinny ****!!" 'n' smiling in fits.
"Try finding kind kids x"
Finding "whys" in rising minds.
My mind grinds.
I'm kicking tins, spilling drinks.
Sitting in IT,
Sir chillingly insists "it isn't "fly" spilling drinks! "Shy" brings skills. "Why" brings ills."
I'm still shy.

This crib's tiny.
Tiny minds, blind by bling.
Fit chicks with *******,
Thick ****** thinking with *****.
I flit this Brit ****.
Brisk flight,
I find "I"
Simply shimmying "ir(o)n lik(e) li(o)n in zi(o)n".

In Brit, I'm still shilling it,
Finding thrill in it,
Hiding 'til it lifts.
I'm brisk fixing it,
I'm hiding in drinks,
Finishing in clink.
Trying things,
High by night,
Slinking by, finding light.
Thinking "this is it!! I'm in!"
Tricky light. Light trick. Sight trick.
Lying in my mind
It's still ****.

Is it?

His birth...
This child is my kid!
This brill kid!
I'M in this kid!
Big grin :D

First kid is big kid,
Mid kid is silly kid,
Quickly hitch my Miss.
Third kid. This kid, this girl is my girl.
Brill kids!

I bring my bling by flipping kids thinking bricks;
Fixing bits in thinking ink;
I'm finding it stinks.
Kids drink slick skills.
My mind chills with mind filling drills.
Kids grinding, crying spills -
"Sir, it's **** innit?
With missing mining, missing mills,
Im plying skills by filing bills."

I'm plying skills with mind pills.

Mrs "I" is criticising my id
Im minding my Ps n Qs
Biting my lip
Fists tight, shifting slightly
Slinking nightly
This is ****
Hit slight hitch
Hit BIG hitch
"'kin *****!"
I finish with my Mrs

Kids split 'twixt cribs.
Kids trips fix splits.
Kiss lips ***,
"Night night x"
"Light?"
Click light.
Right, "night!"

I'm hiding my ills in girls.
IT pimps, swiping right.
Primp ****.
Minging swill.
Fit chick.
Swift flirt.
Flirt, kiss, flirt, kiss.
Big ****.
Tight slit.
Milky spit.
Wiping ****.
Hiding ***** sight in mind,
I find it sticks.

I drift

Stick tight
Fighting my plight
Grin
"It's 'right"

Missing my crib
My ID
I'm finding my mind
Sticking with it
Fighting silly flirting ****
Try finding inspiring sights
My kids
My crib
My Inking
My Writing
My mind
My eye

I'm kind

I'm "I"

It always begins the same. Ordinary day.
Then we start and that goes away.

I met up with some mates and went for a drink,
Dropped the singular and began to sink.
Testing the waters of inebriation,
I waded into a sea of intoxication.
In liquidity I lost lucidity
and floated off, spinning chillingly.

Gotta get loose and keep it moving,
The second you stop, you start losing.

I never lost curiosity,
The feelings of exploration never ceased to move me.
Each venture was another chance
to find something I couldn't catch.

On binge drinking I have this to say:
Relief is no valid reason to partake,
Sport is fair but only with mates;
And discovery is a double-edged blade.

Her pants will not ascend up the body.
They exhibit the various mountains and valleys of exhibition
that exhibit all and every stifling opening in the land between the limbs.
The progenitors apparently never trained the lass in class.

Her pants will not ascend the body.
I slam the image processor shut
and beg the higher powers for more cloth
but the portrait remains hung in the palace,
exhibiting, exhibiting, exhibiting,

weakness and detestation in the wake of insomnia,
for she can spine-chillingly be pictured in the movies they show,
the ones with palm and sand and ******* for all.

When the tape ends its shift as a documenter she still exhibits,
plagiarizing the greats like a trombone entertaining itself with exhibition,
its brass perpetuating nausea and its horn emanating
aromas of catastrophic consequences

while it sits there like a *******, echoing the words of the vivacious
director in the silk scarf of silhouettes and the exhibition of pure animosity,
that pops and fizzles like the dying carcass of an ****** ridden rodent
who decrees that Cersei is the finest in the land.

I travel throughout the swamp, engulfing all of nature
My favorite is the Lilly pads
They are so beautiful
Sprinkles of water glimmer in the light as they relax on a welcoming mat of beauty
The strong stem captures a fishermen's lure and gives it a home in the swamp
A turtle slowly drifts to sleep on a silk smooth bed, while being blanketed in the warm rays of the sun
The sweat fragrance of the snow white flowers penetrates throughout the scenic swamp
Your muscles strengthen, as they struggle to push a kayak away from a baby's tight grip
The large green pads carpet the warm summer water, sheltering young fish from lurking herons
As my friends sink into the chillingly fall waters I become sad
But when ever I am sunken eyed I think of the Lilly pads.

But I just want to know why you’re
so old, so cold, so bone-chillingly
alone
out here.

You’re my Sky.

And I just don’t understand where
Mami is where daddy with the big hat
could be while you
shiver and shake I
can’t take
you back there with me.

You’re my Sky.

So we huddle under stars while the cars
they drive they’re faster than your
heartbeat it’s slowing let’s play
a game while we
shiver and shake I can’t take
you back there with me.

You’re my Sky.

We wait.

This cough syrup is soaking into every pore in my brain,
And I don't know if I can survive the loop again,
I keep waking up, reaching for my phone,
Just to text you so I don't feel so alone,
But you tell me, oh you tell me,
This is wrong, it just can't be,
And now I know, this one thing is real,
Never did you truly care how I feel,
Now please just let me rest in peace,
Because I don't think I can move my feet,
They told me stand up, after you pushed me down,
And now my dignity is spilled all over the ground,

I looked for you to be my anchor,
And all you were was a mirage of a harbor,
I begged you please hold me up,
Instead you left me face down in the dirt,

Please children don't go tripping,
All you find is brain cells dripping,
Onto the floor like a withering flower,
Wake up keep thinking this time it'll change over and over,
But this is reality, yes this is real,
No matter how many times that it may feel,
Like you'll wake up back home in your bed,
You'll never quite be the same again,
You were supposed to be the voice of reason,
The one thing that could keep me from freezing,
But my feet are tired, and chillingly cold,
And this is it, I'm done, I fold,

I looked for you to be my anchor,
And all you were was a mirage of a harbor,
I begged you please hold me up,
Instead you left me face down in the dirt.

There was screaming,
laughing,
choking,
all sugar and spice in the air.
Crazed blackmarketing of candy,
too much sugar,
and love in the air.
but what i remember most r ur smiles,
and that chillingly haunting song
that crept up my spine
and stole my breath
by breaking my neck.

i do wonder who wrote the song.

You belong somewhere wholly different-
somewhere tranquil and calm

somewhere
where the lights aren't harsh
where the breeze is cool and warm
you belong where the air
tastes fresh and clean,
where mountain tops
break against the sunrise
and your hands can touch
all the softness of nature.

Where green is the color of everything
and your laugh mixes with birdsong
where you smile and a beam
of sunlight hits your face
and lights and warms you
where you know only love
and peace and happiness.

Where there is no fear,
no concept of pain
where every color is brighter,
every song is chillingly sung
and every day is good.

You belong to
the earth and her nature,
you belong to the ridges and peaks
and the branches of trees,
you belong to soft mossy ground
and sun-warmed pebbles,
you belong to everything beautiful
you belong to everything beautiful.