"circumcision" poems
They are silent and beautiful,
gorgeous in in the white halo,
cemented in a beautiful terrazzo,
baring the names of fallen soldiers,
the European soldiers that fell in Wars;
second and first and the heinous silent wars,
i hope this is why they have a proverb; white sepulchre,
only baring the white dead, only chiefs but no dead Indian.
Common wealth graveyards are all over in Africa,
in India , panama , Latin America and europe,
the active fronts in which the allies fought ******
they are beautifully placed in silently posh areas,
in langata when in Nairobi, in Mbaraki when in Mombasa,
in Matisi when in Kenya, In Namusungui when in Lodwar,
They bear horizontal silence with white names engraved
on their beautiful face shouting the glory of European empires,
which provoked the evil sense in the heart of the king's horseman
in Kenya, in the city of Nairobi, to steal the graveyard lands,
he made them his urban home with an uppish courtyard,
for him the dead white neighbours are better than in-corruption.
I walk around the commonwealth graveyards,
in the all quarters of erstwhile British empire,
looking for the names of African soldiers ,
who died in thousands fighting for the queen
the royal bloodied woman of England;Elizabeth,
Looking for the sons of Ethiopia who stood with
the second duce Benito son of Mussolini,
fighting for Hitler,for Shintos in the European war,
i have seen no name of any African,
I have not seen Wandabwa wa masibo,
who was conscripted into the first world war,
Along with his father Biket wa Khayongo,
Biket back after seven years in 1918,
carrying Wandabwa's Belt,
Wandabwa died in the field,
Where was he buried, he is nowhere
Not anywhere among the soldiers in cemeteries,
I have not seen Nasong'o wa Khayongo,
who was conscripted in 1940,
to fight against ******
he was conscripted on his nuptial evening,
even before he had had the first ***
with his new wife, he went away crying,
he never came back, his name is nowhere in the graves
the commonwealth graves that bare names of the fallen,
Fallen soldiers, but they all bare white names in the black world.
you come to Africa, Kenya, Nigeria, Malagasy,Egypt,
whatever the geographies of Africa, and you keep keen,
you hear someone is called Mr. Keya, or Madam Keya,
or you come to Bungoma county of Kenya,
you meet a man that is of the circumcision age group,
Known as Bakikwameti Keya, Bakinyikewi Musolini,
Keya is subverted sound for Kings african rivals; KAR
the African sound for KAR is Keya,
in reference to mass conscription of Africans
into the KAR, to fight ******
A child born during that time is Keya,
A man circumcised during the time
is in the age group of Keya,
A simple lesson in regard to our people,
taken away to fight the colonial power
and left to died and rot away in the bush
with a simple courtesy for ceremonial burial,
that come along with the death of soldiers,
who passed away in the battle field.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
this is the first time i ate
a watermelon, like i did today...
it's going way back
back to the times we
were apparently apes...
so there's this gorilla
sitting on a windowsill,
with diced watermelon pulp...
oh wait, what's in his bowl?
the outer-layer,
including the hard skin
of the watermelon...
you're ********
he's eating that too?
what, ever see a gorilla
peel a banana to get a
babushka jew-head out
from the outer layer?
(insinuating circumcision)
gorilla eats the whole thing!
and he's sitting there,
insinuating: fibre...
excess chewing,
keeps the dentist away...
so between chewing on the outer
layer of the watermelon
(including the hard skin) -
he drops pieces of diced watermelon
pulp into his gob, to water
the chewing dynamic...
what? you do it with apples
and pears, and cherries, and grapes...
the gorilla says:
fun experience...
intermission of a gulp of beer...
it's hard to imagine a gorilla
being the size that he is,
having the cullinary skills
of saying: oi! oi!
don't fry that plantain!
eat it raw!
half an hour it took him to chew
through the red pulp and the outer
layer...
and he thought:
**** as painful on the jaws
as i might have chewed a gum
for 2 hours.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
Refuge from reality
Neverland's necessity
Chasing the whims of Shadow
Crowing at the moon's sad glow
Freedom from monotony
A childhood philosophy
Perseveres in light of fears
Long adheres in spite of years
Flee the world of decision
Distance mistake's incision
A brash heart's circumcision
Nulls care of peer's derision.
"You gotta let go and crow!"
Mar 23, 2010
Mar 23, 2010 at 7:34 PM UTC
I have a friend who is a surgeon a career of his decision.
Performing tonsillectomy and frequent circumcision.
Another friend who only meets with lepers lives by prostitution.
Both taking paths in life to live by their chosen best solution.
Both very different careers by choice and so many passing ships
Both surviving and living well and both taking lots of tips.
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 12:13 AM UTC
Yes, mechanical leaf mover,
create the shrillest sounds known to man.
See if it doesn't just slowly make the world a ******** place
by taking away the joy of crunchy leafs,
which gradually become moist, squishy leafs,
then, after a long period, emerging from a snow covering
thaw and lie there, fully exposed, recumbent,
depriving the dormant seed of grass its sunlight, preventing grass,
freeing up water for infrastructure needs more urgent and rational
than supporting the most boring of decorative plants encompassing our lives.
I guess what I'm saying is that, not only are your sounds annoying,
they're just another of the short-sighted endeavors our present society insists on.
You are the "circumcision-for-hygiene-purposes" of our urban planning.
**** you, leaf blower. **** you and the excruciating environmental ignorance you represent.
I SAID **** YOU, LEAF BLOWER, YET YOU PERSIST!
You need to let that leafy-foreskin grow,
covering the shaft of ground.
Rid it of the pleasure-impeding growth of grass!
Let the earth cry out for the sensation of tiny points of pressure
moving delicately along its surface.
Let the ground erupt with wild flowers, or at the very least,
the trampled exuberance of plodded soil
and the desperate levels of human debris that would collect upon it.
Or are you trying to hide our wastefulness from us by removing something
which is nothing, a nothing, invisible barrier?
You've already succeeded in giving my apartment complex the ambience
of an industrial production complex
which I suppose it always was.
Maybe your attempt at concealment
has been a revelation.
Or maybe I just can't think straight,
because there's been a ******* leaf blower
circling below my window all morning
and now a heavy, riding lawn mower is coming to cut the grass
that hasn't grown since September
but has been watered every day
even though it froze last night
and it's almost November.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
Hot/Cold, Part 2
Hot endings, cold starts.
Hot feelings, cold marks.
Hot temper with a cold reaction.
Hot double barrel with cold pump action.
Hot church with a cold congregation.
Hot merch with cold affiliations.
Hot meat, cold wine.
Hot dollar, cold dime.
Hot queens with their cold mink.
Hot kings with their cold links.
Hot art with cold reception.
Hot mirror and a cold reflection.
Hot woman with a cold reputation.
Hot main chick with a cold side on placement.
Hot funk and cold R&B.;
Hot world but the colds all I see.
Hot information, cold intelligence.
Hot faults, then cold recompense.
Hot forgiveness, cold mistakes.
Regardless of what the world intakes.
Hot ignorance and cold oblivion,
are bliss to those who favour dominion.
Hot pathogens and cold diseases.
Hot gold with the cold diamond pieces.
Hot gat within a cold Gucci belt.
Hot knife inside the skin it starts to melt.
Hot love for God and the cold religion.
Hot pain after a cold circumcision.
Hot skin, cold whip.
Hot hands, cold grip.
Hot city, cold ghetto.
Hot calls, but no memo.
Hot rapper with no demo.
Hot baller with no c-notes.
Hot thoughts, cold emotions.
Hot theories and cold notions.
Hot models with their cold body motions.
Hot love before the warm heart ceases.
Hot hatred 'fore the cold heart seizes.
Feb 10, 2014
Feb 10, 2014 at 3:38 PM UTC
i must be the only one
who finds sparrows
amusing outside my window
filled with song,
the same in me trying to imitate
their song with a range of onomatopoeias
never written (thankfully, poets
who write sparrows' song, may you
be disgraced, chirp chirp,
beat-box that **** elsewhere, where
you're welcome by admirers),
the same in me laughing
at the kangaroo hops
unable to use both feet to walk
in the guttering of the carcass plateau of crows...
but there my laugh,
like the last whims of a pope when a robin presides
over the ritual outside the window on the sill...
i find pronouns unable to capture
timing, a class of words for standing still,
they just can't capture timing, they're space
orientated, a man of 70 will say the same
of a man aged 20 about a woman,
but both will be idiotic about the size of
her earrings concerning her promiscuity:
bigger the earring, the bigger the need to feed
her juiced up genitalia lips...
warm **** and cold mouth,
some say in reverse: getting ****** off
is like ice-cream being eaten...
and cold in reverse would give you circumcision
defined lawfully as **** a cold genital
assertion of womanhood will peel the skin
right off... ask for a cake you''ll be welcome
away from the bony **** of your hand's embrace...
perhaps marriage... and that cold mouth
that encompasses all hidden glaciers;
still, the **** is about sparrows in rain rain gutters
hopping along to the orchestra playing only
one tune that's ha ha ha.
all in all, when aroused, one hole warms
up the other cools down... the third?
don't know, don't care, apparently it's exhilarating,
trying to turn men onto all three
and away from homosexuality,
with the fourth (woman's ego) being missed...
could never equate that to a phallus and a hole...
i always felt ***** by that thing, the fourth dimension
once the **** was explored... it's all Dostoevsky after that...
everything is permitted, no deity exists,
i guess a the end is required of such a poem as this.
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
.oh... hi y'all:
or rather - how did i find this in the noun Ohio?
i guess after watching
the disaster artist
and no having watched
the room...
the tetragrammaton
is so glaring to me
in the English tongue,
i might as well be
a reincarnation of
Belshazzar
(but not really...
because, to me,
reincarnation
implies
a fixed number
of people...
and an mingling
of solipsism from
philosophy,
and NPC from the gaming
world...
no, i can't believe
in reincarnation...
saving grace of
the Hindus?
they're not lactose intolerant;
boogie-woogie-boo-woo
ooh things are turning,
freak-y...
why is that a Y and not
an E?
see... the tetragrammaton
is glaring at me...
like an ***** protruding
phallus with the added
"flavor" of a circumcision
snippet...
me? i'm fine...
no snippet...
i can **** off as much
as i like and not feel
stupid -
or catholic, about it,
having, in my possession,
an unsheathed "sword").
p.s. it really is the case
of circumcising men
as a procreational motivation,
no ******** on you...
plenty of ******** on her...
and how the east meets
the west...
back in the east i'd be a blessing...
over 'ere?
i'm a walking abortion...
a nuisance...
something you send off
to fight in incestuous...
here's my 100 year closure celebration:
V!
like the Welsh longbow men... up yours!
who? in the 100 year war...
the French would cut off the...
**** index or middle finger?
they would cut off one of the fingers
of the Welsh longbow men...
so they could fire an arrow...
P.O.W.s...
so the Welsh longbow men
came up with V... a salute
to the French... up yours!
i still have mine!
hence? i don't feel ****** jerking off...
too bad, ol' chap,
you've been given an incentive
to find your missing ********
in a woman's *****
sorry... i actually feel sorry for
you having this imposed on you...
the missing caftan / hood and all...
sometimes i wondered:
does she even know what she's
doing performing ******** on
me? maybe i could cut my torso off
and show her how to do it?
in the east i'd be a godsend,
but in the west i'm an
embarrassment...
great in tissue... greater still
in pointless wars...
auxiliary pageant...
sure sure...
glorify the women...
last time i heard my ex-girlfriend
gave birth to her fourth child...
her fourth daughter...
i seriously should have been
born a ******* Mongol.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
Ye flaming Powers, and winged Warriours bright,
That erst with Musick, and triumphant song
First heard by happy watchful Shepherds ear,
So sweetly sung your Joy the Clouds along
Through the soft silence of the list’ning night;
Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear
Your fiery essence can distill no tear,
Burn in your sighs, and borrow
Seas wept from our deep sorrow,
He who with all Heav’ns heraldry whileare
Enter’d the world, now bleeds to give us ease;
Alas, how soon our sin
Sore doth begin
His Infancy to sease!
O more exceeding love or law more just?
Just law indeed, but more exceeding love!
For we by rightfull doom remediles
Were lost in death, till he that dwelt above
High thron’d in secret bliss, for us frail dust
Emptied his glory, ev’n to nakednes;
And that great Cov’nant which we still transgress
Intirely satisfi’d,
And the full wrath beside
Of vengeful Justice bore for our excess,
And seals obedience first with wounding smart
This day, but O ere long
Huge pangs and strong
Will pierce more neer his heart.
1.9k
God is good & God is great
He hates queers that levitate
Momma said that God is dead & I can touch a thousand men
We're not hippies, we're just dumb
We do drugs. We Have fun
(No Brains!)
Obama, I wanna go-bama
I know you know I wanna
go-bama to a sauna
in the Bahamas, bring iguanas
Obama, I think
I think you know-bama
I wanna go, I wanna wear pajamas
in Bahama mama sticky saunas
(No Brains!)
I don't know how to think
The clock goes " tick tick tick tick"
Gotta speak quick, gotta think big
Gotta beat kids with a big stick
God told me I wrote the bible
Jesus had a black disciple
Jesus got behind the wheel
He'll make Obama great again
He'll make it rain and bring the pain
He'll make it make it make it
(No Brains!)
Jesus cured all my diseases
He taught me what cottage cheese is
Analingus teachers taught the preachers how to feed us
eat a fetus
Jesus teaches
(No Abortion!)
but I don't really think that it's that important
but if you really think that its that important
there's pre-abortional baptism
America runs on fascism
American chicks like circumcision not activism
if it lacks vision then
police could release the crack
in the ghetto snacks
in the ghetto shacks
In the fellow stacks, it'll make a better tax return
I'm like,
(No Brains!)
It's metal, baby
Obama, I wanna go-bama I think
I think, you wanna know-bama,
I wanna go-bama I think
I think, you wanna know
It's metal, baby
Don't touch me, I'm beautiful
Touch me touch me, I will sue
Don't touch me, I have a crush
Watch me crush, watch me ****
Armageddon veterans take armadillo medicine
I eat you like venison
Watch me crush, watch me ****
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 10:55 PM UTC
puffing out smoke like the entangling of long hair
with my portable hookah of acid apple palette experienced;
then eyelid the softest skin the warm puff puff experienced
when unable to see the gaseous
entangle of thus compared:
cut off the eyelids and become
serpents, rather than circumcising
exchanging loss of masculine
additives with excess of feminine
pin points of skin like the bloating
of the throat: larynx region with a thyroid
cancer bubbling and blubbering:
circumcise and make men eagerly warring...
and women prone to consecrate approval
as if dreaming... a naked sword without a sheath...
but instead of circumcision, the cutting off ********
cut the eyelids! what then? i'd begin revision
of man by cutting off the eyelids rather than the ********
**** me, why not both?! cut the eyelids
and cut the ******** then narrate what excesses of
womankind are worth disregarding:
feminine ******** and perverted religion,
hey, excess skin of man was the culprit once,
now the woman's chance to equate kippah with
a monk's hairstyle, with her own slit of
niqab and postbox of forcing through a hole
as narrow / as tight so that an object capably sat on
can be delivered.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:25 PM UTC
Ash coats the skies that were once blue
A paintbrush of black over the green brand new.
The fire burns throughout the fields,
Destroying any enemy it deems unworthy of life.
Searing heat permeates the air,
Thick humidity pierces the lungs
Cages of smoke capture their vision,
While I run for hills
To escape this life circumcision.
Flesh upon bone and fabric upon flesh,
Burns both gracefully and with ferocity.
Their screams encompass the peace that once was Elysium.
There is no escape from this terror and fear,
For there is no refuge far, no refuge near
A place of sanctuary, no place for pain
Why would one come here to suffer these things again.
As this paradise burns to the ground,
I wonder what of those who wait to migrate,
To this place looking for peace, to only find death and despair.
They have nothing left to live for,
Only sorrow to bear,
For once their lives are over,
They have no resting place there.
No holy place of healing where their bodies can be renewed,
No fields or Sun so pure that their sins are memories refused.
What so they have to look towards
In their short time on that Earth,
Just a place for which their bodies lie,
Rotting beneath the hearth.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust.
For life eternal
One no longer should lust.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 8:49 AM UTC
It is now
It won’t be tomorrow
Or the next day-
When I choose to live
Free from bad thoughts of any kind
I decide to live free like a flying bird
Standing on the promises
Of my only reason for living
My creator and provider
Neither today,
Nor tomorrow and all the tomorrows to come
Will my life be mine any more
And won’t be yours either
I belong to him
Who loved me to death
He who wasn’t ashamed to give his precious son
That in him I may be redeemed and justified
I know I was a gentile
But He cared less about circumcision by the men
What he wanted was for my soul not to perish
I love because I was first loved….
It’s so sweet to be in love
With assurance that you will never be betrayed
Those tough times are an opportunity
To exercise your faithfulness to the maximum
To feel the sweetness of a true friend
That is ever present
And whose ear is always open to my calling
And whose gentle arm is always ready to hold me when I bend
For I have no promise of breaking
All the days of my life
As long as I still have Him as my rock
I will stand firm and strong
Oh how I love your tenderness!- ABBA FATHER
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 9:17 AM UTC
My weight lifts up
As the sun rises
And the moon and stars hide
Beneath the blanket of light
Honorable mention
Standing ovation
Hands clapping
Congratulations
Loud noise penetrates the air
Static electrifies my hair
Surfing couches on a wave
Of homelessness and "bah, humbugs!"
Clever critters creep crawling covertly
Across the room, I see my face
Peering curiously like a child's
At something new, born into a world
Of nuclear reactions and hummingbirds
Of postulants and female circumcision
Of fried turkey and wrapped gifts
I am the divining rod of this family
Sun peeks around the clouds
As the clock counts down my every breath
This staircase reeks of death
He was the walrus, hunted like prey.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of *******
2 Behold, I Paul say unto you, that if ye be circumcised, Christ shall profit you nothing.
3 For I testify again to every man that is circumcised, that he is a debtor to do the whole law.
4 Christ is become of no effect unto you, whosoever of you are justified by the law; ye are fallen from grace.
5 For we through the Spirit wait for the hope of righteousness by faith.
6 For in Jesus Christ neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncircumcision; but faith which worketh by love.
7 Ye did run well; who did hinder you that ye should not obey the truth?
8 This persuasion cometh not of him that calleth you.
9 A little leaven leaveneth the whole lump.
10 I have confidence in you through the Lord, that ye will be none otherwise minded: but he that troubleth you shall bear his judgment, whosoever he be.
11 And I, brethren, if I yet preach circumcision, why do I yet suffer persecution? then is the offence of the cross ceased.
12 I would they were even cut off which trouble you.
13 For, brethren, ye have been called unto liberty; only use not liberty for an occasion to the flesh, but by love serve one another.
14 For all the law is fulfilled in one word, even in this; Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.
15 But if ye bite and devour one another, take heed that ye be not consumed one of another.
16 This I say then, Walk in the Spirit, and ye shall not fulfil the lust of the flesh.
17 For the flesh lusteth against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh: and these are contrary the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would.
18 But if ye be led of the Spirit, ye are not under the law.
19 Now the works of the flesh are manifest, which are these; Adultery, fornication, uncleanness, lasciviousness,
20 Idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, variance, emulations, wrath, strife, seditions, heresies,
21 Envyings, murders, drunkenness, revellings, and such like: of the which I tell you before, as I have also told you in time past, that they which do such things shall not inherit the kingdom of God.
22 But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
23 Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.
24 And they that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the affections and lusts.
25 If we live in the Spirit, let us also walk in the Spirit.
26 Let us not be desirous of vain glory, provoking one another, envying one another.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 6:17 AM UTC
bewilderment, many more women than men, and still so few a man committing polygamy, it's almost like the mirroring of so many men committing suicide; the loss of the practice of polygamy leaves so many men committing suicide prematurely, leaving so many women alive to give the abnormal ratio without an actual diseased cause of death of men, hence the statistics.
just when you start enjoying it,
you stop,
there are so many going to restaurants,
but you're just a turkey
readied for stuffing,
you gorge on it
like traffic in Hinduism with
the holy cow that's a pedestrian
in England...
chomp and chop the food
like a toilet blockage,
you eat it without a palette,
no cheese and crackers after,
no candlelight, no wine,
it's a strange looking necessity,
esp. once digested;
it's as necessary as death for your
engagement: you have to eat,
you have to die...
i eat to add to the insomnia cure
because i should but can't pay alimony
payments because an engagement is
not lawfully enforced...
chemists are natural bachelors,
i told you, but you wouldn't
understand...
you were the ******* of youth,
the girl aged thirteen prone to suicide
and still the many numbers of men
committing to the act of suicide...
the law is in your favour, since you're
the incubator of it, the womb,
any rich **** can provide the Semitic root
of it all, cutting the excess skin of genitalia
of one *** whether ******** or ********
you think you won't get anti-ontological
behaviour? if what was intended was intended
and you play and revise the **** thing,
do you think the answering reason will
not look ridiculous enough to not attract ridicule
like a cow and flies, ready to spawn maggots
in the wet eye sockets?
you must be joking then!
monotheism was born in the halo
of revising mankind, abraham's snipping
isaac's "excess" skin...
it took place there... but revising a second
time with female circumcision...
well, revising humanity like that
gave us all the possible abominations accessible...
how can you teach the origin of man
with that ugly aesthetic of being furry
and a blunted snout of the gorilla
and not wonder why revising man
to an over-eager representation of engaging in ***
not combine into a holocaust...
you steal the sheath of the sword from the sword,
you'll find it constantly warring,
because that's what circumcision did,
it stole the sheath of the sword...
and no, this isn't crude imagery, ******
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
touchstones around my neck
little purple precipice
tips caress
wet scar tissue
plastic surgeon amiss
slice, two, three, four
in and out of the cavern
enveloped in sadness
keep my eyes glued to his
in the throws of passion
cover my orifice
is it over?
writhing, bones ruining
my chance of circumcision
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 4:09 AM UTC
today i learned that a friend of mine
was nearly tickled by death
in a terrorist excavation of bones
in Brussels, with jean-claude van damme
included in the action sequence -
although without stunt artists, by god,
that's the second girl on my list of near
encounters with death and a permanence of tombstones;
i took four beers for a walk
trying to gather dogs' tears along the way...
if she was only worth blowing myself up i would,
she wasn't - because, i mean,
is this a 72-get-together asking about circumcision
and contraception, and is the niqab an over-sized ******
in the supermarket jokes,
me with my long hair tied into
a samurai's bun of a seashell, she with her
hijab... i didn't get the joke either...
i said i wrote poetry for friends,
and yes, i've become a so-called milk carton
at the supermarket - the expected, shelved -
first they asked for my name, then what i did,
matthew, poet...
well you've got the cheapest bottles of whiskey
around here, of course i'll testify
to a religiosity of having to repeat purchase... d'uh!
still, jean-claude van damme and those
four cans of beer... the dogs salivated more
than wept: so i collected saliva rather than salt drops,
of what could have suckled dry a field
readied for a harvesting of potatoes.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 6:18 PM UTC
i never knew when forgiveness of ******
deviations equated to
the obscurity of citizen allowances,
whereby i was excused from doing ****
like i was excused from having a conscience
stealing your herd of sheep...
but i guess i must have a medieval mentality,
******** childish, having to interpret
the profanity of the tetragrammaton
with the canonical gospels' acts of dispersion,
you said ****** were akin to
meat cleavers... fair enough...
god forgives me butchering you like you
were forgiven having a frolic in the hay...
and we're all one big happy family...
'cos i swear that's when ambiguity on the dogma
entered and the nadir was expressed:
sin - ****** ambiguity - equated itself
to crime - citizen ambiguity -
you want to put that forth to Buddhist
authority chaining ******** bandwagons of
thieves en route to the Tibetan Vatican?
only so much is allowed,
given you're championing one Jew of your fancy
while giving others the gas-chambers...
ain't it just Prince's 1999... we're gonna party
like it's 19-99.... i think you mistook sin with crimes...
that's my "doctorate" opinion...
you said **** with thieving being synonymous,
Christ was saving Greek intellectual culture
with the pederast **** to boot...
St. Paul was encouraging circumcision,
twat-like people with a statue of Buddha asking
whether head meant the shaved one ******
or whether it meant the prickly one gagged on
was on the cards - goose-pimple **** frostbite...
the moment when the forgiveness of sin
turned into the forgiveness of crime...
hence such ****** freedoms right now,
and a... ah... whatever... of challenged citizenship,
why would i? why would anyone even bother?
**** it, let's go crazy, Las Vegas is waiting for us,
the cowboys will never churn out a Thatcher
to "rule the world".
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
the dream
the body
has
again
in which
the dream’s
body
seizes
with presence, the nerve
end’s
wake
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
It is copyright © Leonard Cohen 2006 and Jacket magazine 2007.
Takanawa Prince Hotel Bar
Slipping down into the Pure Land
into the Awakened State of Drunk
into the furnance blue Heart of the
one one one true Allah the Beloved
Companion of Dangerous Moods–
Slipping down into the 27 Hells
of my own religion my own sweet
dark religion of drunk religion
my bended knee of Poetry my robes
my bowl my scourge of Poetry
my final circumcision after
the circumcision of the flesh
and the circumcision of the heart
and the circumcision of the yearning
to Return to be Redeemed
to be Washed to be Forgiven Again
the Final Circumcision the Final
and Great Circumcision–
Broken down awhile
and cowarding
in the blasting rays
of Hideous Enlightenment
but now finally surrendered to the Great
Resignation of Poetry
and not the kind of Wise Experience
or the false kisses of Competitive
Insight, but my own sweet dark
religion of Poetry my ***** prize
my sandals and my shameful prayer
my invisible Mexican candle
my useless oils to clean the house
and remove my rival’s spell
on my girlfriend’s memory–
O Poetry my Final Circumcision:
All the pain was in fearing
and ignoring the girl’s voice
and the girl’s touch and the girl’s
fragrant humbling girlishness
which was lost three wars ago–
And O my love I love you again
I am your dog your cat
your Cleopatran snake
I am bleeding painlessly
from the Final Formless Circumcision
as I push up your dress a little way
and kiss your miraculously
lactating knee
And may all of you who watch
and G-d forbid!
are in a suffering predicament
as I go sliding down to Love–
may you speedily be embraced by
the girlishness of your own
dark girlish religion
Sep 14, 2020
Sep 14, 2020 at 12:46 PM UTC
circumscribed circumstances circumspect
~
*these then
the circumstances,
that circumscribe
my essentials
the surround-sound orb walls of choices
made and yet-to-be-made delimiting me,
making me wary of the unforeseen,
more circumspect of what I will someday have chosen
recall standing on the now crushed,
destroyed subway platform of the
Cortlandt Street Station,
debating
take this job or that
took the one but a crow mile fly away
(and not the one that didn't survive)
come that day,
me, audience observer then,, not one of the
death undefying unwilling circus performers, and heroes,
when I pass the covered up burial sight,
the many nearby and forever crinkly crape draped firehouses,
or open the drawer where
I have
saved the tidbits of that
particular day's memories walk home,
a covenant reaffirmed,
a circumcision of the soul renewed
a circumcision upon the soul,
the renewed cut, sheds, allows some light
into the circularity of life*
9/11/16
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
We believe female circumcision
Is barbaric,
But boys should look like their Dads,
It's traditional, like swinging a dead cat
In a gunney sack over your head.
Yeah, like Dad and I showered together daily?
Should girls augment their ******* to look like Mom.
Should Mom landscape to look like daughter.
Let's bring Granny into the mix.
We believe homelessness to be cruel
And unnecessary.
Why I have one in winter,
And one in summer.
Our dogs have wall-to-wall.
Birds have gilded cages.
They have vents and cardboard.
We believe in fair trade
(Except with countries we don't believe),
To get what others have,
Especially those diamond rings,
Blood stones.
We abhor child labour,
But haven't enough
Money to give Wal-Mart
On Black Friday.
Where do our sympathies lie?
When sympathies lie.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Bless us Oh Lord
Us –
These demons in dolls
Dancing in dreamlike reality.
Some save themselves
Whilst the others refuse to recognize
Their strings.
Unwilling to see them.
Unwilling to see.
Afraid, comfortable.
After all –
A life like this –
Abandoning your shackles
Can leave you feeling bare.
Or worse,
Free.
That's the hazard to handle
But first we must learn to see.
If only we look hard enough –
The strings become clear.
Then comes the hard part.
We fight the strings,
War against our master
Over to the scissors or box-cutter
Anything that tore the cotton out of unfortunate others
Once before.
Anything
That this giant child left scattered about.
An unspoken truce exists;
Anyone can show you a pair of scissors
But no one else can ever sever your strings
No one
But yourself.
Then, after the skirmish
And post circumcision
The giant child towering
Smiling a proud smile
As if this is what he wanted for you all along.
May 10, 2011
May 10, 2011 at 3:52 PM UTC
Rhyme Master
I'm a joke, I like to smoke, always broke,
sometimes I stroke, over easy, I like my yolk.
I'm a walking collision, always needing supervision,
my personality is a split decision,
I was sixteen when I had my circumcision.
I strive to go far, gonna reach for every star,
life can be very bizarre, my brain has a giant scar,
got my hand stuck in the cookie jar.
I'm on a secret mission, but with no ambition,
I hate tradition, don't believe in superstition,
I think I deserve more recognition.
Writing with my lucky pen, no ***** for poor Ken,
there were no three wise men, not now and not then,
I'm gonna be rich, but not sure when.
Forgot more than most will know,
I hate when I stub my big toe,
everyone sometimes will eat crow,
once a month a woman will flow,
I love to watch my ***** grow.
Haven't seen snow in three years,
if not for cable, we'd be using rabbit ears,
some movies put me in tears,
consider my rhymes souvenirs,
I like getting a buzz from drinking beers.
Hate the day, love the night, no need for a stupid light,
I hate to fight, with no teeth, it's hard to bite,
I do things out of spite, believe it or not, I'm white,
my future is about to take flight.
You never had a choice, I never had a Joyce,
my words are my voice, it's time for all to rejoice,
as I drive away in my new Rolls Royce.
I do as I please, as you all pray on your knees,
life is never a breeze,
can't eat hot wings without blue cheese,
living in Florida, I never freeze.
Will never own a gun, love having fun,
life has just begun, the loneliest number is one,
stick a fork in me, because I'm done.
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC