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Steve D'Beard Nov 2012
Pounding bass.
Sub-sonic strobes.
Synthetic smoke.
Alone on the dance-floor
I was glad to see another
clubbers curves move in rhythm;
Uninhibited by the foot tapping brigade
who watched with intensity.

You edged ever closer
Till our smiles became infectious.
An uncertain bond of understanding,
amid an endless rush of acidic bleeps.
Uncluttered.
Uncrowded.
Mystically shrouded in transient beats,
we strangers come together in unity

Your hips move to the pneumatic bass
as transient hardhouse and
tribal breakbeats embrace,
The foot tappers again resume,
Spontaneous rushes
and some sulphur that is sour to taste.

We may have unzipped and consumed
to electronic tunes,
but the tune remains the same -
Beautiful stranger dream a dream for me
because now all we have between us is
Rain.
this track accompanies the poem as the eulogy to the unamed stranger who crossed my path that evening
http://soundcloud.com/kinkslapandfriends/unzip-to-consume
Through the blaring noise
And the gyrating hips of clubbers
Did I see you in all grace and poise?
Leaving a trail of lustful passers.

Above all else I heard a soft purr
As a moan escaped everyone’s lips
Did I softly hear you murmur?
“Would you like a kiss?”

And in that moment I fell
Like one of your numerous suitors
Did I not once often tell?
Lust is love’s awful traitor.
neth jones Jul 2018
[Disclaimer : Collection edited from previous works for the purpose of competition.]

Notes during Jane’s night out
and its afterbathe.


Observe :

when your heart's beating overtime
you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Jane’s prayer of control


Observe :

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.


Observe :

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey to Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.


Observe Others :

The exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
And go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their practices and manners 
Interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongue chorings 
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.


Observe My Racing Brain :

Let’s put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives could flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
As shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity


Observe my Near Miss :

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
and foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again


Observe Hospital Stay :

Talisman
Brighter than a new spawned sage
Appears to me.
Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.
Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.


Observe my learning :

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset and repetitude


Observe a Single Step :

This is a Me
(hands indicate body that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
a View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

The Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did


Observing Spark Plug :

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed.
2019 competition version
a weathered brain              Jane’s night out

Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter

Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind
I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.

Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.

Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity

Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again

Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.

Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat

Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did

Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.






a weathered brain

Jane’s night out




Observe my Control Prayer

when your heart's beating overtime
and you drool poison in your sleep
and you're looking down
on this wound of slaughter
simply turn your head
and repress the urge
for mischief
mirth
and laughter





Observe

Deathlessness 
becomes my Oedipus
Restlessness, my Vein
I spy from the Windows
upon the Exterior ;
It's Humid, Night and Rain
I pave my Thoughts ; 
all bark and froth
I Pound Drinks
It Powers tight my Bellows
I Hound the Clock
My energy thrives out a fan of nerves
I create an idea of what's soon to be
A plan of posable culture
forms flossy in my Tide
and
(as the Night Out steps up)
It Bites firm in my mind

I stride across the threshold
Betraying nothing
Of the Savage I've put together
Slough Suited in neat Disguise.

Raw Meat and Red Teeth
I'm a Bow to the Moon
I Click over Cobbles
A Mad Energy
Bailed in my Stomach
I Task Myself
Open
And Daring Prey
To Cross the Tension
Strung on my Senses
All Hot Gut and Wire
I'm Playing at Being
A Wild and Mean Thing
And I am Dedicated to this Wound.




Observing Others Socially

Any platter but this sick heat beating sink of interbeing
With its ******* music and rapid lighting
Exclusive clubbers present their cards of invite
Go swiftly about the social wetwork 
Their manners interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an inflammation of words
A baffle of tongues choring
There is an hour
There follow more
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
Then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.








Observe Racing Brain

Put Sleep to Death
And purify madness
We shall practice giddy boils of imagination
Bright
And quick lives flare
Brief celebrities
Hastily added
To this new chattering evolution
There'd be little lung for morals
And sorrows would be swift experiments
Let's make all lives what they really are
Put Sleep to Death
And be recognized
As blurs
Shots 
As stars and spittings
Firing in this universe
This playground
This raw wash of activity




Observe Overdose  

gunbeat
memory fleeing ;
murrums over soils
stresses and seas
desaturation
my colourless meat
mind down
hasty retreat
coma tones
my last retreat
failing the game
foul on my feet

but then spoiled warmth floods back
my sponge reforms
damaged
but re-soaked
current again



Observe Hospital

Talisman
Brighter than
A new spawned sage
Appears to me.

Abyss-less
It lisps of rest
And passes me its clay.

Obedient
I foster a dent
And begin to draw my feed.




Observe Lesson

take a breath
expel a myth
pattern a thought
create an action
reset
repeat


















Observe Step

This is a Me
(hands indicate body
that they are a part of)
A responsive sock of meats
flush with The Other
and stringy with Thinker

From The Other 
operations may be performed
Within this mix
View dwells
this could be said
to be a Me

Being makes
a physical step forward
A Me indicated that it ought to
and it did




Observing Spark Plug

...and 'oh my God' did I cry
I sparked like I was made of knives
and it carried me
I was adopted
I was addressing reasoning
burying it fiercely and fare
pounding clay over it
and enhancing my surroundings
content
yet
without trust
re-start
welled and sad
sick excited
a primal plug 
connected
and this world had once seemed so borrowed, adolescent and unpracticed

I throw up.
CH Gorrie Oct 2012
On the Embarcadero, winds carry clubbers' words
to me: sound of a satyr's desperation:

maybe she'll look at me.
Maybe even with pleasure and not repulsion
:

the silent plea of devil-may-cry men ---
all blood and lusts, more beasts than heart.

Some swing blunt cutlasses that never cleave,
sip hypnotic wine from offering hands, unknown beneath a coverlet.
Others dance into the lacuna of their lives:

decade(s) of searching, yearning,
yoked like juments, under the mortal whip:

sad boys in need of love;
                                    infatuation;
          ­                                        amity;
                  ­                                      acquaintance;
             ­                                                              lust;
                                                           ­                   pleasure;
                                    ­                                                      a look:
                                                                                                      anything.
This is basically about clubbers in their 20s. All of them need real love, but will not say this or really admit it to themselves because of societal implications, norms, their peer groups, their worries about self-image, etc.
The continuing colons (:) at the end represent what they really are, how desperate the become. They are in need of love, but they will settle for an infatuation (a perverted form of love); if they can't get that, they'll take amity (friendship); if they can't be friends, they'll take being just an aquaintance; if not that, than lust; not lust, then even baser pleasure; if not base pleasure, a look; if not a look, anything, just anything at all will do.
There was a guy
in glee club
who was a composer
and had perfect pitch,
who wrote a cool piece
for us glee clubbers
to sing,
so, I liked it,
but there was one part
that the conductor repeatedly said
that the basses,
which I was one,
scooped the pitch,
but, I didn't think so,
so it ****** me off,
and after a performance
we had a party,
and some of us
went out back
to sing this piece,
so, right when we got
to the part
that the conductor
was talking about,
I scooped the hell
out of the pitch,
and the composer
with perfect pitch said
that he would never
perform that piece
again.
Mark McIntosh May 2015
in the fold of a leaf
droplets like moss
an army of dew
in early light
clubbers go home
i used to know that
the knees gave out
from the funk & dip
crackers & cheese
as the bass deepens
flaring nostrils
I forgot your number
& you forgot giving it to me
we're even stephen
the bar just registers
cashflow humming
the bank opens
what was my
pin
Right when
us glee clubbers
were about to go
on tour,
to someplace
like New York
or England
or someplace,
but I forget where,
I quit,
and the conductor
was furious about it,
and stopped me
on the stairs,
and told me
that I would never sing
in another choral group
again,
but the next semester,
I was singing away
in choral union.
Olivia Kent Nov 2015
Bedlam is empty.
Silence reigns, where banshees wailed.
Heaviness lifted.
Darkness enlightened.
Now, young evacuated by the calling of the clubs.
Consumption of alcohol
Flying high on crazy drugs.
Midnight comes.
The police arrive.
Streets of bedlam re-occupied.
Handcuffs.
Noisy cells.
Clubbers, feeling not so well.
Tomorrow heads all filled with fluff.
Silly sods.
Feeling rough!
(C) LIVVI
Michael Turnbull May 2015
A galaxy of bugs encircle a bulb,
Rallying and returning all hypnotised,
Some relish that electric heat,
Others lounge in that buzzing beat;
Most get too close and are galvanised.

When that familiar light floods in,
All these insect clubbers take in their night's din,
Just to do the same in the daytime.
KorbydAngyle Nov 2020
A perplexing trust for trial ends this endeavor, a blending blasphemy, of me this court does suggest.

As preening voids, the zygotes, blyme, they be gouging the eyes of the word; not hither then upon the afore, tenure observed as a state, which exiled is you.

Now begin in amorous help. Fiend, friend, to begin hath thou the gaul? To annex this; thus we will begin.

"Player, composite, Sauls of my own form... You can't believe how beautifully, grievingly misunderstood is all that a mutual sanctuary stands for...truly is... or unwittingly shall...and is not!"

Priests, clubbers, Demons, usurpers, lovers all envied of miscue(the default form). Their lives of shores of the Sea of Calamities, stern amuck the floam... temerity to continue their negations play.

"Therein thinking a theory of thought. The theory is Daemon of poverty, the emersion of hope, empathetically ill 'con'.. 'truaght'. As
I had thought. Now be seated, all and sovereign thimbles on tinders of papyrus, tinders on kindling, fires of the vanities...so.."

The Judge said, "We begin again."

I warn thee now, Saints of lore didn't enjoy the mentioned or the heretofore.

"Neither Satan nor God, Fairy nor Preacher could'st so understand that I said, ' I couldn't take it anymore, I cast my very last spell and found myself in bed'"

The chamber abruptly decried of calamity and doom. The sanguine despot of evil's charm pleading for mercy. This tale did not end...

"Of majority I inform 'The persecution had formed a **** and shales of deviance of Heaven's abrupt roofs, feln at no mercy...a request.'"

"A mentor is nor promiscuous and the dabbled in victory is ours in study and form!"
So reckoning for further remorse, no time off, no deliberations for jury's recourse.
Cont'd
"Settlers with lanterns, the mocking Tern with letter did bring'st. A written confession entered this forth for duly appropriated evidence..."
Should mercy do require of
my plea, then bickering, is
of how many, of killed. Which
Jury member, flauntingly, tauntingly
it should be!

Another fluster. Time consumed. Wits prancing on Hate's Gate made deference of the decree, but not for the court, of whom, we entrust all our wit!

"Now, now. Simple folks we've all had our drinking sessions and fancy empaths, who lie on erudite chagrin, not the actual words for which a Daemon does hold within." The defense tried falseness, perjury in the evening debate; as cautering of word with unholy terror should be met with.
"If no further evidence is to be beheld, the deliberations can pass into the hasty congress which we hold honored and true. Be returned by the midnight hour, for it's then with this Daemon, dear folks," the Judge complained, "we'll know what to do."

Valkyries, Cavaliers, Angels, innocents wept as time upon the throne, the jury, until churning of clocks, the jury was kept.
Gathered were children, vixens, nobles and common citizens, as abrupt, did begin this midnight hush.

"Have you found a contempt, a fortune 6 for 6 plea 6? A jurisdictional deliverance of which light can not alone ***** the passings allotted by thee?"

"We have your honor"

And so the final waves, as durational salient crying vows, were set to broken upon virgins, churches, and broken tree boughs.

"Not...entirely...perpetually...free.. Guilty is the Daemon, no mercy to be shown. The sentence is passed, a proclamation which we defend as appropriate, all noting to the taken of, spoken of in the heretofore."

All were quieted of vices with meals made for axes and guillotine, as somber looks denied those unfortunate to find; Skink a friend not a fink. Then the words resounded, a damnation did sound...

"Implored of a vice that shant be similar in any such derivation of a humanity which we call binding, the voracious need to be freed under the conviction of the guilty Daemon's bidding."

And so we awaited kilter to the proud. A slurry of legions both curious and in an ironic way evily proud.

"To scour the Earth in no other form than that of the distraught and unwanten, and begin again the vicious cycle of death with no life till thee's crime is forgiven."

Ordinance and plethora's of charm shall never question the Daemon of said name and claim.

They did'st disarm.

As surely as to the very day until in the future no other sentence could take the place of understood powers of the court whom you have been advised of and; if adversary crosses your path you must invoke with no alarm.
fun little archaic partially scheme and poem
Bob B Jun 2019
On a night three years ago this week
Forty-nine people died
In a mass shooting that once again
Left the country horrified.

The Pulse nightclub, Orlando, Florida,
A place of nighttime revelry,
Became the target where a hater
Carried out his shooting spree.

Maybe among the victims' names
Are none that you can now recall.
Nevertheless, the incident
Is one that affects us all.

It's sad when conditions are such
That mass shootings become the norm.
It's equally sad when lawmakers
Shy away from gun-law reform.

And sad, too, it is when hate-filled
Bigots boldly advocate
That the deaths of forty-nine clubbers
Should be a cause to celebrate!

Shame on them who take religion
And shape it into deadly words
That they sling at innocent victims
While stirring up hatred among their herds.

The path to truth is a winding path;
It's easy to stumble, easy to stray.
Some start out with good intentions
But then get lost along the way.

So many anniversaries
Of mass shootings to recognize!
Will the light break through the clouds
Of ignorance? We can only surmise.

-by Bob B (6-14-19)

Remembering the victims of the Pulse nightclub shooting:

Stanley Almodovar III, 23
Amanda Alvear, 25
Oscar A. Aracena-Montero, 26
Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala, 33
Alejandro Barrios Martinez, 21
Martin Benitez Torres, 33
Antonio D. Brown, 30
Darryl R. Burt II, 29
Jonathan A. Camuy Vega, 24
Angel L. Candelario-Padro, 28
Simon A. Carrillo Fernandez, 31
Juan Chevez-Martinez, 25
Luis D. Conde, 39
Cory J. Connell, 21
Tevin E. Crosby, 25
Franky J. Dejesus Velazquez, 50
Deonka D. Drayton, 32
Mercedez M. Flores, 26
Peter O. Gonzalez-Cruz, 22
Juan R. Guerrero, 22
Paul T. Henry, 41
Frank Hernandez, 27
Miguel A. Honorato, 30
Javier Jorge-Reyes, 40
Jason B. Josaphat, 19
Eddie J. Justice, 30
Anthony L. Laureano Disla, 25
Christopher A. Leinonen, 32
Brenda L. Marquez McCool, 49
Jean C. Mendez Perez, 35
Akyra Monet Murray, 18
Kimberly Morris, 37
Jean C. Nieves Rodriguez, 27
Luis O. Ocasio-Capo, 20
Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez, 25
Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera, 36
Joel Rayon Paniagua, 32
Enrique L. Rios Jr., 25
Juan P. Rivera Velazquez, 37
Yilmary Rodriguez Solivan, 24
Christopher J. Sanfeliz, 24
Xavier Emmanuel Serrano Rosado, 35
Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez, 25
Edward Sotomayor Jr., 34
Shane E. Tomlinson, 33
Leroy Valentin Fernandez, 25
Luis S. Vielma, 22
Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon, 37
Jerald A. Wright, 31
David Jun 2019
Terror dactyl cockpit complete
Cameras serenade with apparatus whipping in the distance
Night clubbers discuss ***** violin interludes
Beau-fighter logos shadow junk food leviathans
Eye shutter bean pole women casting their gaze with lock jaw dinosaur needle rat eyes
Blister savage people howling their next Hyundai experience
Ahab he beckons
I am jumping up
Jumping down
I can’t control it
It is my medication
It is seroquel
Which can make my mind jump
You see I hate it hate it hate it
Tuck I wish it’ll stop
I feel like shooting into space
To shoot a cosmic concert
To help the dead enjoy the after life
The medication is pushing me up
For many reasons
Like he doesn’t want me to be lazy
He doesn’t want me get back to the old days where I made my family laugh
Ya know silly things made my family laugh back then
He doesn’t want me to put water on the computer to grow the money tree
He wants me to relax
And have fun
My medication might be trying
To push my house up to space
Leaving people on earth yelling at me
Saying you ain’t a normir mate
You are brainless and dumb
He might want me to go to bed and
Find it herd to sleep because of sleep apnea
My mind is a racing
Racing oh yeah racing
My mind is a racing
Really really fast
It is normal for a mind to race
But not before I went to bed
And yes I think I know another reason why my medication is making my mind race
You see I use to go to the pub in the city or Belconnen and I would hang loose in the city all night, maybe it is my medication saying your don’t go to bed
You stay up with us all night mate
Don’t go to bed early
Pubs are still open Brian
Don’t be shy Brian
GO OUT & PARTY
You see, Brian, you are a man
And I am a kid
You go out with all your chums down the pub
While we stay home and laugh at you getting bashed up or teased by the clubbers
While I am suffering mate
I don’t want to go to pubs
Pubs are for yobbos and *****
Big Virge Jul 2021
Now DON'T Let The Title Confuse You... !!!
This Piece Is About How People ABUSE...

People of SUBSTANCE...
Because of POOR Judgement... !!!

By This What I Mean...
Is That People Now Seem...
To Tell Themselves... " DREAMS "...

About How People... BE...

Some CHOOSE To BELIEVE...
That Because A Woman’s... " PRETTY "... !!!

... She MUST Be A QUEEN... ?!?

ESPECIALLY Black Peeps’....
Who Believe In FALLACIES... !!!

... Queens of VANITY...
Is How They Seem To Me... !!!

And Then Of Course...
CERTAIN Black Folks TALK...
About The MELANIN...
That Defines Us As KINGS... !!!

Well If That’s The Case... ?

WHY... Is It... ???
US DARKER Folks...
Are Normally The **** of Jokes... !?!?!

And Have To Face...
IGNORANCE MOST Days.... !!!

Now That’s Substance ABUSE...
That’s Based Upon RACE... !!!

Because My Black Face...
ISN’T SEEN As... “ GREAT “... !!!

Unless I ENTERTAIN...
Or Run Like... USAIN... !!!

In FACT... BROWN Skin...
Seems To Be The Thing...
That Gets You... “ IN “... !!!

... INTO Clubs...

Where ABUSE Then Becomes...
... The Kind of Stuff...

Where TOO MUCH SUBSTANCE...
In Terms of Ones... COLOUR... !!!

Can Get You FRONT COVER...
Because The Club Made The BLUNDER.... !!!!!

of Telling Black Chicks...
That They... “ CAN’T COME IN “... !!!

Because They're In A... “ DSTRKT’ “...
That Has Been... "RESTRICTED"...

From Their DARK SKIN... !!!!!!
THICK *** And BIG HIPS... !!!
Cos' They Just Don’t FIT... !!!!

Now Ain’t THAT A *****... ?!?

This Is Where It Begins...
From Police In The Streets...
To Those In White Sheets... !!!
Who Won’t Let Black Peeps...

Get To Sneak And Creep...
... In Between *******... !!!

Or Have Their ****...
Get A Fair Skinned Lick.... !!!

An INCREDIBLE Thing...
In A World TODAY...
That KEEPS Making CLAIMS...

That... " Things Have CHANGED "... ?!?

Because Some Now Play...
The... “ Mixed Race Game “... !!!

So Now Think It’s OKAY...
To Believe That HATE...
Has Now Been ERASED.... !?!?!

Now That’s Substance Abuse...
Or Better Still Brain DRAIN.... !!!!!

Which Is Why HATE Groups...
... STILL EXIST Today... !!!

Who Now Try To Recruit...
... Disillusioned Youths... !!!

Who Then GO TO School...
Pull Out Tools And SHOOT... !!!!!

Now That’s Substance Abuse...
That Is... NOT COOL... !!!!

NO DRUGS In View... !!!
But... ATTITUDES...
That Nowadays PROVE... !!!

How Substance ABUSE...
Is STILL Being FUELLED...
By The IGNORANT Few.... !!!

Or Is That... MANY... ???

Well They Seem Ever Ready...
To NOT Rock Steady...

In FACT They Drop HEAVY.... !!!
When You Watch Your Telly...

Or YES.... TV....

Where People Now See...
ABUSE That’s OBSCENE...
... Run PRESIDENCIES... !!!
And Brexit' Themes In 2017... !?!

... This Just CAN’T BE... !?!

Substance ABUSE...
STILL IN The News... ???

From Colour To Lovers...
To Young Night Clubbers... !!!!!

It Seems That Dark Hues...
Still Have To CHEW...

On IGNORANCE And Being Viewed...
As The LAST To Get Through... !!!

Well A Few NOW DO...

But Let Me Just STRESS... !!!
That The REST CAN ATTEST...

To This Simple TRUTH...

When It Comes To Who’s WHO....
Just Because of How WE LOOK... ?!?

We’re STIIL The Ones Who FACE...

... “ Substance Abuse “...
The race issue still seems to be driven by ignorant views about those of us with darker hues !

— The End —