Hello I am CHIZZY PEACE ,I am out here to spreed this good news to the entire world on how I got my ex love back.I was going crazy when my love left me for another girl last month, But when i meet a friend that introduce me to DR ADAGBA the great messenger to the oracle that he serve,I narrated my problem to Dr Adagba about how my ex love left me and also how i needed to get a job in a very big company.He only said to me that i have come to the right place were i will be getting my heart desire without any side effect.He told me what i need to do,After it was been done,In the next 2 days,My love called me on the phone and was saying sorry for living me before now and also in the next one week after my love called me to be pleading for forgiveness,I was called for interview in my desired company were i needed to work as the managing director..I am so happy and overwhelmed that i have to tell this to the entire world to contact DR ADAGBA at the following email address and get all your problem solve..No problem is too big for him to solve..Contact him direct on: adagbaspiritualtemple@yahoo.com. and get your problems solve like me..... ONCE AGAIN HIS EMAIL ADDRESS IS: adagbaspiritualtemple@yahoo.com

Sugary, yummy, tasteful
and dexterously
carved out to mollify
my infinite passionate
urge.
The work of celestial
hands once
in hundred decades
seen.

russia never fails at being: unsurprising -
stagnant mother of
the little caucasian dittos -
        otherwise a pristine day...
a breakfast of a coffee... an apple...
and a cigarette...
minutes later... digging up glass
and mirrors from the earth -
       the earthworms and the scuttling
spiders - the woodlice
   and
those sluggish irritations
of glob-like loafs of galileo's bread -
it's almost impossible not
to laugh when picking up
a snail by the shell... timid little
lubricant slob... teasing it to
prop out its eyes...
   fungus-esque vacuum of cul de sac
black prodding (the eyes! the eyes!):
god... that salival gobshite of
a slush munch oozing
like a ******... but slugs?!
ugh... a discomfort like no other...
yes: those spiders dancing a cossack...
'opak...
with each handling of a shovel
the displacement of these little
pandemonium rugrats...
gloriously wriggling centipedes;
      but the fence is not yet complete...
i have to dig circa 6 inches
into the harrow and plough to...
set up a underlay border...
so the weeds: these consistently demanding
   overlords of will -
can be clogged up against:
a makeshift ha-kotel...
    as i also watched the ants:
how many i buried alive in the cement...
satellite eyes in my skull -
          sushi from earthworms...
like pruned shoots of greenery -
i am sure the clone replica
body tomb will... well:
sometimes one might draw blood from
an earthworm cut in half...
breakfast for champions:
a coffee an apple and a cigarette...
oh yes... the cement - fine fine
grey powder...
and building sand...
      a 3:1 ratio of sand to cement powder...
it just desires air like pollen...
you end up snorting a burst
balloon's worth...
   that was me... a concrete flinging
monkey... i seem to have...
forgotten the ****...
   in response
                 a mini replica of the ha-kotel
or hadrian's wall...
come the evening;
a ******* moth sanctuary that's also
my bedroom...
     which is nice...
i.e. moths...
            unlike indoor plants...
concrete flinging monkey...
       architect chomp chizzy...
             a story akin to: come evening...
a local dairy farm is being
closed in vermont...
         there's talk of... the usual...
it's not that capitalism this...
capitalism that... socialism blah blah...
kafka and bureaucracy...
a forest... a paper stampede:
but tourism...
   i, concrete flinging monkey...
come across a view with a nuisance...
no... not wind-farms...
cows... lots and lots of cows...
i also own a maine **** that...
   meows at the moon...
   well... imitate barking... howling...
fair enough... ah'woooooo!
perfect... but... it's just impossible...
to... say:                woof...
saying <woof> these days is like
some czech saying the word <i> -
                     pronouns are not stand-alone
necessary conjunction shrapnel: and...
i'll bark: without... i'll hark...
i'll imitate... god forbid the idyll of
a "woof"...
       back to the cows...
well... what better cure...
crying: moooooooooooooo'n
at them...
                if not a canvas for
a zebra... then most fuckety-**** assured
a dalmatian running chaos
and concrete evidence for a ziggy
and a zag...
                         because: as you do...
it would be plain idiot
to have to print black paper
to later write in corrector ink on them...

a day as any other:
my own... and that i was alone
for most of it...
creepy-crawlies being resettled
and... those crows...
like they might turn a branch
into a rattling toy...
     it wasn't a hark with wasn't an
outright croak...
blistering black heavens with
a glistening white cross of their
skeleton having fun...

it's enough to have written so very
little... seemingly freelance
livid on a hot horseshoe with not
impeding stress for gallop...
but this is not a grave...
there is no tombstone...
and... there's no epitaph...

           funny... i have ventured
into many graveyards... out of fun:
out of a mortal assurance...
but beside it: to own a grave is a status
symbol... like a second mortgage...
cremate the rest of us: said plonk
and pluck...
              there's a name...
there's a born on and a died on...
     there's an engraving by those
who dearly miss: a loving father etc.
but there's hardly...
an epitaph...

i am yet to find myself... in awe...
walking in a cemetery....
finding a gravestone with an epitaph
detailing a: progressive thesis
for a blatantly borrowed Golgotha!

- that moscow is a memory of a in concreto
of a slab -
perfectly contorted and
only a midnight at a train station
waiting for a ****-plug
heading back to st. petersburg...
is another time... another life...
the same spatial coordinates...

little venice whittle Constantine-ville...
some other-wordly ham-steer-toward-the-dam...
flooding! mr. orange:
the spanish are craving polenta...
and all that's perfectly...
inaccessible for the serenity of
a plonker and a plumber...

              hidden niches of
english phoneticism arguments:
in that they lack any variation
of orthography -
   what even the germans had to mind.