[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero

The light you shine on me is so warming
that I cling to you.
You can always aid me in circumventing
my insecurities.
I've learned to become something new;
half of a whole.
In time we both will have to go
our seperate ways.
Waiting for days to return what we had,
the things we took.
The bittersweet feelings I'm experiencing
(more bitter than sweet)
Are from realizing that I will have to learn
to be alone again.
But unlike the other times I've had
this is special.
What are we even? I'd like to hear
your answer one day.
I like to call us more than friends
with benefits
We're friends that love each other,
and love well
That means we can be whatever we want
or need to be.

Tell the voices in your head
To form a picture of me instead
Remind yourself of who we were, remember how much tears you've shed
And although those feelings inside you are dead
As long as you loved me, I could silence all what they said
Free your insecurities and circumventing acts
Try not to be fooled by people's opinions and start learning to accept the facts
We live in a world of segregation
Molestation
Racism and human spring deforestation
We fight beasts, beasts of our conscious, and we claim our prize
We **** zombies, zombies of our morality no matter what size
We strangle dragons, dragons of laws that no one abides
And you come to me afraid…
Why do you come to me afraid…?

Beneath the surface of our daily lives, we are always asking the question, “Who am I, really, and where is my true home?” The answer to this question is so utterly obvious, so beautiful, so ordinary, and yet so profound, that like the nose on our face, we have a hard time seeing it. Because of our own self-imposed limitations, the answer to this mystery can only be revealed little by little, as if a great veil were being lifted inch by inch, until the truth is completely exposed. Yet, we are destined to receive this knowledge.

Today-all around us: the electro-magnetic field is active and alive, whether we feel it or not. Imagine all the electromagnetic-digital devices surrounding us! Take a moment to think about their direct or indirect effect on our bodies. Global warming is by far the most serious manifestation of the “collision”—and Mother Nature is making the evidence ever more obvious. Our bodies are like little vessels of light reflecting our bright birth right. However these vessels constantly need nourishing and care. These are amazing times for us all but we must take care of our bodies inwardly and outwardly, else we are left at the mercies of the “spiraling” energies circumventing the universe. Both scientists and spiritualists have verily presented groundbreaking evidence about what is happening beyond what can be felt, seen or sensed by human sensory perception. At times-you may feel odd sensations or more anxiety than usual. Breathe in slowly and deeply. Take your time amidst the “rollercoaster of the city’s rush hours”. Remember to connect to the “higher frequencies” of a positive lifestyle in healthy ways. Exercise, Pray, Meditate, if you can- use flower essences everyday such as: Silversword, Shooting Star, Morning Glory, Sagebrush, Snap Dragon, Cosmos, White Magnolia. Growing a flower garden has its rich rewards too.
Nature’s healing effects are unquestionable, for within nature we come face to face with the Divine infinite source of All creation-as it was, as it is and as it will ever be.

Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda once quoted:

Harmony with nature will bring you a happiness known to few city dwellers. In the company of other truth seekers it will be easier for you to meditate and think of God.

There is a magic about periodically moving out of the “city’s confinements” to the richness of and around nature: forest walks, boat rides, mountain trekking and much more. The main essence is in feeling a refreshed aura around and within you-an indication that the city and all its toil on you have been left behind. We have to try to get rid of the notion of time. When we have an intense contact of unconditional love with nature or another human being, like a spark, then we can truly understand that there is no time and that everything is eternal.

Other simple ways of raising energy levels include: silence in isolation and more “interaction” within you inner spirit-your Higher-self. There are always two forces warring against each other within us and we can bring these forces to a balance during silent personal introspection.  In order to relate properly with and to your inner being, one must follow the “truth of imagination.” From the word-imagination, we find the word-image, which is the manifestation of our physical form and body identity.

As William Arthur Ward said:

If you can imagine it, you can create it. If you can dream it, you can become it.

More than ever before on our planet, there is now great need for interpersonal sharing and the acknowledgment that ups and downs are a vital part of our everyday life. This process is internal as well as external. The “key” is a flowing pattern that is beneficial to all concerned. Take good care of yourself, your relationships, and your health. Exercising both mind, body, and spirit can bring you the agility to incorporate balance, whether you are alone or with a partner. Life can seem like a seesaw existence, but you can still have a wonderful time if you maintain a playful attitude.

The “image” we carry of our self within our mind and heart carries the power to bridge our highest ideals into our everyday practical life. On the other hand, attachment to a poor image of self condemnation and suffering carries the potential to destroy our right to joy and abundance. Which do we choose? Practicing the laws of “visualization” is not unlike the practice of prayer or meditation, where the seeker opens oneself to channels of higher guidance and inspiration. Ideally, we are given the opportunity to walk through the gardens and forests of the earth with astute concentration and attunement, opening our opportunity to the light of healing and service, each and every day.

Whatever your tradition or practice, however you offer your skills to the world, trace your roots and find the center of stillness and peace within. Only from this grace-filled place can we restore the health and well being of ourselves and our planet. Become one who engages the full power of the mind, heart, and spirit in the interest of alleviating suffering and making our present world a true “Garden of Eden”

Remember to build the world around you in a practical manner. Is your spiritual, mental, emotional, and physical universe anchored in truth and wisdom? Follow the “call of the wild” and listen to your inner voice within that guides you to fulfill your higher destiny. Take time to make weighty decisions. Realize the implications of your acts for the future. Stop wasting your strength by criticizing others. Recall the ancient adage “Judge not, lest you be judged”.

Reinforce your positive, upbeat, and inherently good nature so that the dark elements of this world cannot break down your resolve and dedication. For those who have suffered emotional pain from all sorts of physical or spiritual abuse, If you are to walk the path of consciousness, enlightment and empowerment, you must go beyond your “old wounds” and accept this golden opportunity to metamorphose into a new “body of light” – one that rejoices with the understanding that all aspects of life are sacred and it is in the weaving of the dark and light within ourselves that we find our true wholeness. We heal ourselves and others by first contacting the inner nourishment or the "water fountain of life" within us which sustains our ability to create beautiful things in the world as well as to act from the depth of our hearts.

Imagine opening your arms to upward spirals of your divine existence like a beautiful chalice and ask that all love pour into the vessel of your heart. This love is abundant and rich, offering the fertile elixir of passion and creativity. These are exciting time and we must accept the challenges offered to humanity at this time; in it all: Unconditional Love, Peace and Unity is the answer. Change all bad habits-those that leave you with tingling bits of guilt. Cleanse your body and home and adore the “temple of beauty” that is your embodiment: your real reason for being!

The mystery of the universe is within and without us. Love the world...Love yourself...Love the change. Anticipate illuminating insights from places deep within you. Let the inner truth of your radiance come shining through. Most importantly, focus your attention and thoughts and blossom like the beautiful morning-glory. The yearning for our lost perfection, the urge to do and be that which is the noblest, the most beautiful of which we are capable, is the creative impulse of every high achievement. We strive for perfection here on mother Earth because we long to be restored to our true oneness with Almighty God.



Muhumuza Kenneth Ezra.

i am the controlled group
i expected interferon and
i got a saline injection
hepatitis c is the
monster
hiding under my skin

i've called for 300,000 favors
from faceless friends - IRC, IRBs, dietitians, physicians
to try to cheat the system
and to cheat the 4 horsemen
harbinging my own internal apocalypse
"If they don't give me anything,"
I began calmly to my wife;
"the scars on my guts will generate another
Chernobyl out of frustration;
out wanting to see my son graduate."

my white blood cell count is 3
and i will wreck this study
go to mexico
and buy as much real medicine
as i need to survive
rudely refusing the FDA's
50% miracle drug
the ingenious intravenous
sugar pill

i only have 3
white    blood    cells
circumventing valuable scientific knowledge
is not off the table
i will walk away in slow motion
after saving my liver from
hepatitis hellfire horse jockeys in lab coats
with the entirety of clinical research
burning behind me

Someone told me talking to women was completely different from talking to men
Familial desire circumventing physical rationality
I don't ******* get it
Flesh is flesh
There is no separation between this body and the next
No delineation save for my own arbitrary ones
This world is chaos bound by imposition
And none of it is real
I'm not even going to say middle class conceptions of family are constructs
Everything is a construct
Knowledge is anthropic chaos
Don't pretend you can tell the difference between essential existence and our subjective reordering of boundless matter
A gap does not form between a molecule of air and a molecule of flesh
I am trapped in my own sensations but I am not defined by them
So back to the story of material existence reduced to reproductive imperative
Treating all of the other *** as a means to displace one's self beyond annihilation into temporal infinity
Who ******* cares?
Legacy does not carry on after death
Legacy does not even carry through life
Language breaks down the moment we open our mouths
No one will ever view your life the way you view it
Splashing through a pool, ripples morph all reflections into monstrous amalgamations
Hey, tell me
Do you even remember yourself that clearly?
Hollow triumph, grandfather's bones in a grandfather clock ticking past twelve
Sorry, I just don't see the allure of treating half the human race as a means to satiate your own lust whether physical or genealogical
Or even categorising humans into binary dualisms that bored philosophers a century ago
Haven't you heard? God is dead
And there is no meaning to your boring male existence

In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
It stood upright, a branch outstretched
and blocked the path on me.

In circumventing sideways dance
I edged in grass quite slow,
but a craggy root handcuffed me,
and would not let me go.

I stood in shocked drawn silent gaze,
unsure of where to turn,
This tree had pulled me tighter now,
it fought my urge to run.

But then it spoke in ancient voice,
in tones of guttural flow.
Dark words in wood translation,
spoke of a poisoned stream below.

The leaf on every branch now shivered,
in worried recounted tale,
as it described through words so clear
what caused its bark to fail.

A darkened tale of toxic waste,
a legacy untold.
of man's destructive story,
where greed and fear unfold.

Water table now unset
In (fractured gas) halation.
Land is sold and cracked
in tempted cash flirtation

War for oil in scarlet lands,
where majors lived at base.
The youth in pointless sacrifice,
to save the political face.

Where poverty prevailed amid
abundant arable nations.
and the silent cries of children
skewed charitable donations.

Air of grey, fermented
with pollen soft pollution.
Chokes of spluttered ash,
cast doubt on evolution

This tale of woe recounted
by nature's mother-tree
with roots now losing hold
while balanced grip on me.

Swaying branch quite dangerously
in forgotten leafy youth.
this once majestic elder falls,
unburdened by this truth.

It died in pain where it had grown
drowned slow in poisoned stream.
a fading track on reddened skin
where its handcuffed branch had been.

I straightened up and stumbled on
relieved it had let me go.
My eyes in shock, slowly adjusted
To wood in flat plateau.

I cast my eyes in horizoned view
not believing what I'd seen.
The wood in matchsticked pattern
where once proud kings had been.


The landscape now lay barren,
with wood strewn all around.
The stench of rot erupted
from muddy blackened ground.

I wandered off to tell the tale,
of being confronted by this tree,
unsure of what just happened
or why it had chosen me.

I walked for miles in desolate,
through air starved atmosphere.
but met no one along this road,
a winding ***-holed frontier.

I walked until I finally woke.
in spluttered inhalation.
Confused, I feared this reality,
of earth's final damnation.

In darkened dream, my walk was halted,
confronted by a tree,
Awoke, its tale will linger,
forever haunting me

Jamie wakes up
A gunshot from within
Eyelids crash into the cage

Jamie gets up
The heavy shadow also rises
The unwanted, only company

Jamie takes a shower
Water pouring hot and clean as angry man's blood
The bars cannot be washed nor melted

Jamie, the golden child
Jamie's gold is turning into stone

Jamie takes a bus ride
Circumventing the forever nameless faces
Are their shields up too?

Jamie gets to school
Nails buried deep within the palms
A secret buried deep within it's ugliest of kingdoms

Jamie laughs much too loudly
For it takes an earthquake to cover the storm
It's relentless shivers just won't die

Jamie, the martyr
The crown of thorns restlessly resting on Jamie's head

Jamie walks back
Way back
Yesterday's sun - today's dark cloud

Jamie listens to a song
Swimming in the pool of ease
A pool much too shallow for Jamie's big fat shadow

Jamie stops to smell the flowers
But finds none
Only a concrete meadow swallows Jamie's feet

Nobody ever considers Jamie
But this evening Jamie is considering

Jamie comes back home
And finds all hopes lay fast asleep
Or is it the reek of death?

Jamie undresses, and then some more
The essence without thick skin collapses
It's tortured and it tortures
It's weak and it weakens
It's broken and it brakes

The menacing trigger
The blood flow
The bare images of hot white pain
It all drifts away
As Jamie drifts into sleep

Jamie, the divine soul tainted
Much too used to taking bullets

Jamie, the heart that bravely fought

Jamie, for who would have thought so many demons
could live within an angel?

Sometimes all it ******* takes in Life
is having a single iota of Self Control
for One to bypass much grief and strife
circumventing Victim for some other role;

moreover, I feel I must clarify,
One must not lose One's Self to this,
I wish to convey in some Earthly way
Self-Discipline seems akin to Bliss.

Anxious for my
Afternoon embalming.
Flushed free,
Laying down the masonry
Of trees yet
To be.

I must confess I want a jack and ginger.

My favorite manieur de mots,
Your offspring making
Silk of my spit.
Two book wormholes,
Circumventing travel,
Welding my smoggy sand castle
To the grey island you anchor.
Would you care to
Fatten up Elpis
With me?

can’t tell at all if these thoughts are even mine, smoothing my hair out
on the lawn while the sun kisses our skin and we lay around
Spring is getting swept away and the asphalt is as hot as you
heat circumventing every shade of skinny leaved trees
and our truant is every bit of rebellion i need to escape myself
these neon signs are open and i still want steal time with you
just like the weather did and be full to the brim of light
want to dream again if this day is one, and daydream all the stinging away

She tells me,
"You're very self aware,
You know what, why and how you do things,
Yet you continue to do them."

I explain to her that I never learned how to ask for help
So I only ever knew how to look to myself for the answer
Which has led me to become pretty creative with metaphors
As well as entertaining internal monologues,
Like when I explained to her that my parents look at me
And see a knot of misfortune
Without looking at all the threads that I'm comprised of
Which led them to this conclusion of me.

She asked me if I ever thought of harming other people
To which I noted that I tend to play fruit-ninja
With peoples faces
In my head.
Though I'd never actually do anything,
Just as I'm able to keep a professional demeanor
Giving no hints to
The constant stream of expletives in my head.

She asks me why I don't feel like I have friends,
Which leads me to disclose
That I can't tell if I work too much
To spend time with friends
Or if I do it to distract from the lack of.

I laugh when I regale her
With how I recently bought a yoyo
Because it is relaxing
And makes me feel like a cool kid
That would be part of the gang in Hey Arnold,
Stating that it's been helping me with my panic attacks
By focusing on making my yoyo
Go around the world,
Pretending it was me,
Circumventing my lack of coping mechanisms.

Iliana looks at me, with her mouth slightly turned down
Attempting to keep a straight face
Though her brows still knit together in slight confusion
As she asks me how I'm able to say all of this with a smile on my face,
"Well," I state, "I don't have time to be depressed."

We have our timezones.
You have lit my nights
with oil lamps,
and scribbled words,
dripping ink,
bright blue circular, circumventing words.

I have glistened your days,
with sunshine,
and the smell of rain,
with sprinkles of cool
breeze showering on you.

My candles and rays,
are tip toeing out of sight,
I fall short of noticing them,
(partly because work kills me)
but more so,
because you have made
them seamless,
and thriving.

My pages,
do not boast of love,
or affection,
or any of that miserable
writing,
they screams passion,
they rip into anger
and courage,
belief,
belief you sewed into me,
with your gentle hands,
fidgeting and seeking.

And your eyes,
do not burn from the sunshine,
they glow,
and stare into the depths,
I see in you.
I know you hate the rain,
so mine doesn’t actually come down on you,
it lingers with its scent teasing you.
The cold breeze doesn’t
suffocate your breath,
it travels through
your body- within your veins,
it is breath.

We have our timezones,
but we meet at the horizon.

Instrumental Instrumental, Please entertain my mental. The sounds I hear and feelings I portray, all affected by the mood I’m experiencing today.

Give me the ******, & help me imagine. Conjured by despair while suffering sadness, or rather aroused with the sensation of happiness.
So, Instrumental Instrumental, Will you be my nudge? Your budge I so yearn for, to move forward & into this unknown “love.”

You guide me into bliss & conquer my despair. Lead me to become one with light so I’ll be liberated from this wear & tear. Please be truthful, are my wishes so unfair? Isn’t above what we hope for, after the lifelong battle to escape from the Devil’s stare?

Contemplate my offer, & continue to be my chime. Let me reiterate that I don’t want you to feel pressured by my limited time. Nonetheless, expect that my flowing thoughts will continue until I die. Until dark day becomes reality, you’ll continue to be my sublime.

With the above in mind, I have a second question. If answered yes, you’ll enter past my dark circled eyes & into my brain section. If no, the access into my brain I’ll forevermore deny. & maybe worse, you’ll leave me vulnerable along my self-collaborated life stride.

So, Instrumental Instrumental, the third question is, will you judge? It takes a peculiar set of skills to recognize the pain I feel, & love. You must dig into all trials & tribulations & keep my innocence in mind. After all, don’t you remember the requests I mentioned in the earlier lines?

Let me know if my requirements weigh too much, & if so, I’ll let go & travel towards the sound of God’s trust. After all, who am I to deny this most natural ride? I question will it be enough, & your answer determines what I’ll find.

I ask because you provide relief for me, whether my soul be temporarily pierced or pure. Our friendship is enough to suffice, & at times I’m passionately reassured.

Instrumental Instrumental, I hope we come to agree. Come to terms with my requests, & shortly the real me you’ll see. I’ll guide you to my strengths if you’re compassionate for my weaknesses, but my final question stems from my worry on whether you’ll become a grievance.

For if we transition from friendship & into love, I dream you’ll help guide my circumventing mind away from suffering and towards lack thereof. As my age evolves continually, my days are anything but infinity. I hope you’ll be present while understanding that death is my destiny.

Instrumental Instrumental, hopefully I haven’t bothered your mental. Together my peculiar questions form a long list of stanzas, systematically aligned to help guide you to your answer.

Please understand I know the deal’s unfair, especially when we compare the benefits as individuals of this pair. The payoff for you runs short, for when I leave you’ll have to be a good sport. I believe your purpose is to help those uncover the secret of surviving life’s court.

outer body
mind sick off radio silence
worry behind me
embers of apathy dissipate across pavement at high speeds
"the best of the plague years" drones on through headaches
and sometimes this all still feels real.
DIY the time of your life
i've already given up twice.
old anthems resonate between clenched teeth
i just want to know where i can rest my head
it's like i have to channel the old me just to get a wrong word in,
senselessly spinning fabrications.
blog-tag manifesto.
cicada summer redux.
we are the originators of resurgent treachery,
and it's all seeping through the cracks at once.
settling ourselves by circumventing sidestep hearts,
old prestige fades as the evidence rests engraved on golden placards.

The glow of our candles
Blazing thoughts into the darkness around
Crunches from violin strings
Circumventing the whole world
Instead to focus on the light

The beauty.

Some people get so caught up in the physical
Attributes of our mutual friend
They lose sight of what brought them together in the first place
We are not some people.

Remembrances are not a consideration
Stand as a false choice on the punchcard
I will dream with you
Wide awake, stepping on eggshells, scared to death
Into the night with you, walking our rainbow path
Eyelids heavy enough to allow for a beautiful life

The devil's words will hold no merit, no weight
In this new world of ours
God knows we are all good friends
Knots of fear sinking to the pits of our stomachs
******* and twisted

But barbed wire and blades cannot cut your flesh when
You choose not to believe in them
They will bloom into clouds and
Float far away

Reach for the leather-bound book on the highest shelf
Touch an angel's face
Drink in tears that pour from the ceilings of every library
Too fragile to break
And the soul listens to all it holds in between its slender fingers
Rich dirt raining down from the crevices
Raining life upon a wasteland

"Under the tree sat Buddha, meditating with his fear.
He grew to understand how to face Mara, less his habitual red ears.

The red ears of resentment,
The red ears from fright,
The red ears that pushed him from tranquility to fight or flight.

A similar story comes to mind,
One I know all too well.

The story of mine is a tale to tell,
As long as judgements forever set sail.

Leaving the moment for the past, I see a hateful boy.
Distant from the world around me, so confused & annoyed.

Transformed from my façade of impersonation, to the feeling of being lost.
Stemming from the monotonous & everlasting worriment in thought.

From mediation I understand, what red ears did to me.
The red ears transformed my thought process,
Into someone I'd grow to see.

From growth came lessons, and new habits from within.
To sit with perceived problems patiently takes courage & a half Buddha grin.

A smile to acknowledge,
An acknowledgment of growth.
For the one I was to who I've become had to happen, as if renewal were a must.

The change was essential, & shall stand the test of time,
from the old wondering & circumventing rollercoaster thought ride.

The form of wonder we know all too well, that steals us from here & now.
I wish we could all learn how to live presently & apart from the modern crowd.

Tranquility was foreign to me, however the possession of is a must.
A must that changes a boy to man, which should happen before skin to dust.

While undergoing transformation, a man will come to see,
That who he wanted to be is he, while listening under the tree.

As I sit back to reflect, I can now understand.
I understand how the test of time transformed me from boy to man."

Names of affection and endearment tenderize couples with their prophecy of a life so sweet  oozes crystals of sucrose. I hope you've all brought the quintessential insulin for this ****** malady.
Baby girl, sweetheart. Who can say that to you, honeydew? He lies next to you and into your ears at night, whispers spoken in the silence of thoughts in the gradient dark.
I was given a name. It's on a certificate. I can show you. "Babe, it's okay."
"Why didn't you answer me?"
"... Huh? What? Sorry, Mom, I haven't really heard that name lately."
I had to write every day. 12 years. More. Circumventing the pale blue dashes of thin elementary parchment.
My goal at the end of first grade was to "not have loops in my d's."
And how can that be, Dear?
Avoidance is the opposite of absence, in which the avoidness is attentive and absence not able to produce a **** to give, the tattered red rag persisting to grow fonder.
An 'S is the downfall of all. mine. Yours.
"I'm so glad your mine <3"
Why am I indentured to you, only when I walk through the kitchen, can't standing to be barefoot because then only one last peg of the possessed woman chain is needed.
Not that there aren't more levels. Danti mentors. Heat lightning, electrocution- are you feeling the chemistry?
I was given skin.
Porcelain. A marble counter top. Albino creatures suffer for their melanlin-less beauty.
Is pain.
Why are purple flowers blossoming on my body that was once a temple in a garden?
My body is Detroit. Spray paint in the form of a Kaleidescapic, mountainous macabre- knuckle
avalanche going down the 90 degree angle that just isn't right but I can't call it obtuse.
I have gang signs littered across the human vessel, spotty and an embarrased brown covered by a collar, and green, yellow and maroon covered by sunglasses.
Love is not possession in the way abuse is not love.
Both own you. Sailing, he's steering. my cruise is on the Slave Trade Triangle route.
You never asked me to get your name tattooed on the past 18 years of dermis cut, shaved, kissed, caressed, burnt and brown.
That didn't stop you from placing yourself all over me, every blooming tulip as a penny for my thoughts stored on your test's word bank.
"Good" is only "not good enough"
mint condition only makes me green.

Coming out of
A nearby hut of mud
A rose bud
Used to mix with
High school
Students’ flood.

On the street
With a bow
Her I used to greet.
Drawing close
And casting an
Affectionate glance
I used to say “Hi”
Often I never
Failed to utter
“Lovely!” “Cute one!” …
In her heart a cherished
Corner to buy.
Though she was shy
Her angelic face
Smiles used to aurify.

When she comes of age
I was sure to propose to her
Though age gap could
Put us asunder
“Does that she too wonder?”
I still ponder.

One sad Saturday morning
A funeral procession
Round the hut
Drew my attention.

To her parents & siblings
And , of course,
To my hidden grief
She opted to be brief
You see
She could not tolerate
“Detained!” on her
Grade 10 certificate.

Vexed
She found it hard
To reflect
A pitch dark night
Will certainly
Cedes place to
A broad day light.

Had she managed  that
Dark moment to outgrow,
She could have
Long forgotten her sorrow.

Two decades later
Whenever I pass
By that place
I see her younger brother
With sadness stamped face!

“Suicide why?”
Is it not cruel
Inflicting
A harrowing pain
On those we
Will be survived by!

Is it not selfish
Taking our life
In to our hands
Our corporeal existence
To finish?

If we share our sorrow
Moral prop
From our confidants
We could borrow
This way
What is unbearable today
We may forget tomorrow.

Is it not better taking
The bull by the horn,
Circumventing challenges
To stand shoulder high
While many are born?///

(BY Alem Hailu G/Kristos)

If people can’t see the writing on the wall by now, they’ll never wake up. A military does not transport tons (TONS) of concertina wire, out in the open-not caring if it is seen, unless it is going to be used for something SOON. This wire is used for two things. Keeping enemies out (used to form military wire obstacles), or keeping prisoners in. The cost for transport, manpower to ***** the wire and manufacturing far out way the cost for using the amount we are seeing transported for merely an exercise.
The U.S. military, and other U.S government agencies, are spending way too much time and money for training. Our country’s leaders are scared to death, they are preparing for something big. The speed at which everything is being conducted, prepositioning of assets/ assets relocated, signals to me that whatever has them scared-is just around the corner.
We have China building islands to preposition assets and conducting large scale exercises, and we have Russia in the Ukraine fighting against U.S. equipped and trained troops, and conducting unprecedented military exercise (largest in their country’s history). We have both China and Russia building their own banking systems (AIIB/BRICS) to conduct trade and invest money + they have developed their own money wiring swift system (CHIPS)-circumventing what has always been used.
The Middle Eastern GCC countries are now forming a stonger military alliance so they can efectively operate jointly militarily together in the future, and they have been disusing limiting military weapons contracts with the U.S. They plan to purchase more hardware from their European allies. Why, because the U.S. will no longer be reliable, that’s right, we’ll be too busy dealing with chaos in our own country + weapons manufacturing will come to a complete halt, and they know it.
I believe the 500 days of climate chaos spoken about by the French Foreign Minister, with John Kerry standing at his side, has everything to do with all this. When the real chaos begins: super storms, quakes and volcanos, the U.S will be at its weakest. Much of our military will be oversees, and if you are in the military, plan on being stuck overseas. All Emergency Response Assets: National Guard, FEMA, Red Cross, DHS and other agencies will be overwhelmed. And this is when the U.N will intervene, and all our enemies, from all corners of the earth, will begin their invasion.
The most disturbing part of all this: It has all been planned, we have all been sold out to the global government corporate enterprise. And in case anyone wants to know who is paving the way, who is in charge, who will light the way? All you have to do is tune into the Popes address to our U.S. Congress (first time in history) and his address to the U.N. a few days later - this coming September. He will be the calming voice, the voice of reason, who will begin the process of unifying everyone. If you are not concerned, you should start becoming concerned, because in order for this man’s message to have the correct impact: answers for despair, fear and desperation, things are going to have to be getting pretty bad.
And all this is the perfect example of: Order out of Chaos. This is your New World Order people. I’ll leave you with this, and let it sink in: In a Short Time, This Will Be a Long Time Ago.
SealMan…

It’s presence we can feel
Our eyes can’t seem to catch a glimpse
Only possible through the gentle sway of leaves
And a whiff touching your hair
Or while brushing against your body
It can carry the fresh perfumes from afar
Winds are also a messenger, for things to come
Always making us aware of its presence
The wind slithers through the deepest forests
If it faces obstruction, it changes its path
Swiftly travelling to a new destination
Wind disregards the manmade boundaries
As wind is nature’s messenger
It can also bring a wind of change
It may be bright or sometimes sinister
The wind has neither creator nor destroyer
The wind is the master of its own journey
Traversing and circumventing any obstacles
The wind is the inspiration to so many poets
With the help of the wind the sailor finds the way
The wind is mystical and is also intriguing
Sometimes it also brings destruction
The wind also sweeps away the dirt
Bringing with it a change or transformation
It’s here, there and everywhere- omnipresent
Winds of change will sweep away over us

© Amitav (Radiance)

here is no wrong way to do the right thing.
old men teach young men,

say it ain't so, joe, can casey take another swing

four strikes, ah
the trick of blowing bubbles in chocolate milk

learned wordlessly,
many worlds
bubble
by us
if
we keep our heads while all about us
implode
explode
implode
oh

this mountain is circumventing me,
no danger
no effort asked for, life is the river I am in and

if I think a bit
different, as if I may chose i mean a thing, as a pro
verbial thing.
In a word.

This century is of the cash and capital,
Its captains are collectors of credits,
Their collaborators are culprits,

This century is circumventing my calmness,
Its clauses are cuffing me,
Their conditions are confining me,

This century is a cruel calamity,
Its covenants are costing me my composure,
Their claws are creeping in on me.

My confidence is collapsing,
My clarity is crippled,
My consciousness is ceasing.

This century is carving out my carnage.

Another approach
Same strategies
Same chain of command
Different authorities
A mesmerizing complex structure;
Circumventing individual responsibilities.

How can we strive?
How can we grow?
Every being as important as the next;
For the success of a mission years away from fulfilment.

Everyone has a part to play
Every part must be played fully
Or else stagnancy is well around the corner.

For development,
The team must be strong.
They must be together.
They must have the same goals,
Or everything crumbles.

Why this house? This house that walks without frame? Only air strides
circumventing the dome. The permeable atmosphere
flows freely shaking water down my arms,
          pulp by pulp, fragment by fragment,
consolations for tippling music streaming in the ears.
Blowing arias – intone of regret, or the loss of beautiful things.
Preferring silence over sanguine narratives. How are we to assuage yearning?
   I heard someone say, “The ideal is unattainable.” – strange, holding
the small of one’s back and lament the narrow ends of the world.
   Strange the flight of birds, the hum of buses past Quezon City.
It would drone that you do not know her – and that she is never somebody
  else’s – that is dearth consoled. Your palm indents delineate not fate
but the steady distances of things close to contact, eluding tragedies.
                          Why this house, and why you?
I have no blueprint of your home. I know not what festoons the balustrades.
   Your rue for the absence of a balcony. A panel over earthenware I suppose,
or partitions to separate dreams from stilled things impaled to the wall.
   I presume there are photographs of you in every corner
to remind you   of your gathered storms.
                         I know not the smell of your home, but I have your
nameless fragrance on my shirt wedged, ambulating with me through the halls of
    where I chase moments like cirrus stirring in a somersault of summer.
  Make use of  bowls with
      evening water  and flush the specter down like how you would, cold water
into throat from a night of weeping. Somewhere there,
    the China will remind me of your elliptical face in
                the intensity of leaving. Your eyes
the windows for birds humming a music I do not hear.   I have been to too many neighborhoods,
I have seen unfinished structures foretold by obliged scaffolds holding together
                     a would-be home. Why this house? There are only shadows intimate on
the floor. The sudden burst of impossibilities watered down, attenuated by
            piercing glances through the thickest of nights black with remorse.
The palpable silence gyrates and the diameters of the world are too close
     to break in sidereal circles.
Why this house?   Because you are in it, and outside,
    through the thick quietude, underneath the paling moonlight,
                         you pretend you see nobody.

There is so much     space demands
and it isn't just     minding it.

Feel        space
like how you feel a hand glide
over your breast and      ****
   your intricacies with surgery-precision.

There isn't much     space when
there are two people in the room.

Heed      space
and soak your body into various calls
like       coming
             into world with fullness,
you     arrive and take
     space,        therefore, you are.
lewd   fat air circumventing past
  open windows announcing more

       s p a c e

on the fryer or inside the common
heliotrope of dawn lies     space
and its absurd eyelids submerge the
  soul into inconsolable mouths
    with the droll of a wilting word,

  there is much ado said over
certain vacuities    and its sole kinship
  is always its emphasis.
  it takes being alone    to sing beautifully
       yet a marginal dance of    swan
meandering    in    space takes    two
     (as mortise
                       and tenon)
  each without,      senselessly moving.

Haunted by rejection
Caged by your selfishness
Your forceful restraint of love
Knocking the air from my lungs
Without having to throw a single punch

Surrounded by star-kissed love
Reminding me of that which you refuse
That which I have refused myself
Why did I settle for this emptiness?

My heartbeat for you lessened
Each unanswered text, every forgotten call
No time made up for those tears
The loneliness that came, nothingness

Your crass words
Lightning to my gut
Crevasse-like holes you created in me
Never quite filled by drunken nights

Those words, assuming and pompous
As if you knew my heartache
Arrogant and pretentious
Downplaying the sound of my heart
Pretending you know me
Like you ever tried to know me

I was daring, courageous
Not circumventing vulnerability
Unrelentingly, unashamedly
Convinced
How worth it we are
How worth it I am

How dare you say
"Make love to me"
As if I haven't been trying this whole time
Every second I was with you
Yearning for that love in return

Your quiet rejection inflamed my heart
Creating in me a fire
Anger masked as butterflies
I thought "if only"
If only I try harder
Then
Then you will see
How beautiful it could be

Could have been