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The rain-Gods should
Give this greenhorn a reason
To why pain could
Appear this green-corn season,

Which baboon will make a sound
If the rich moon cannot be found?
Sometimes we play all day
Making sure that the clay
Does not decay,

But now our rock had bend
And who will lock and mend,
Ah, send the Gods a plea,
And it will end the cods a sea,

For the fear of might is oppression
Whiles the tear of night of derision
But nothing inside will look so strong
If something outside looks so wrong

Is this ice of life so conscious?
Maybe the price of life is so precious,
Men of Kush!
Have a pen for push

And never harm the Gods arm,
For their charm grows your farm,
The debtors have broken the palm-vine
Causing the ancestors to drink the palmwine
Indeed, what life sees as pain,
Must be given to death to explain.


© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: nanaspeaks@gmail.com
"One thing good I can say about the hotel,
There were plenty of skanky crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.”
So began my Expedia travel review.
As usual, I got less than I’d paid for.
My review title:
“Next Time, Sans the Engineering
& Construction Inquietude.”
Pulling into the parking lot
One immediately recognized the scene,
A modern version of Cecil B. DeMille.
The 10 Commandments.
Pyramids of Egypt
Reconstructed, Escher-like
As a 21st Century construction site.
Oh, yes,
Everything Habib had in mind
When he subcontracted
The entire task to Hershel--
Hersh from Kanersh--
The famed,
But cursed
Jewish architect.
I digress, yes, but only partly.

Noise-induced stress, anyone?
The electrified multi-frequency drone,
Saturates like a post-war Levittown
Sea of Cape Cods . . . cods?
Bacala: stiff, salted, yellow & oily.
Cacophony:  a Festivus for the rest of us.
Oh yeah, Mr. Costanza.
Post-war?
Hardly, the mahogany wax
Still faintly, freshly sober,
New cards shuffled.
New cards dealt.
At that mahogany conference table
We weep at stacked decks,
Aces & Kings for the privileged few
Deuces & treys for the hoi polloi.
That hinky Bretton Woods poker game,
Convened while the war went on,
WWII still raging, guns still firing,
Tanks still rolling & rolling along.
There sat the Ruling Elite,
The 1%--as they are calling us these days--
We didn’t even offer
Our Gold Star mothers,
A moment to
Hold their breath.
Not one decent interval of silence.
Nein, nein, nein.
It was let’s get back to business.
Capital resuming its
Uncivil War on Labor.
First, add decades of slow boa squeeze.
Inflation, insidiously mocking Calvin--
Your ethos of work
In smithereens--
(Smithereens.
[From Irish Gaelic smidir n,
Diminutive of smiodar,
Small fragment.] ...)
A recipe for Sisyphus,
Your down-the-ladder warped reflection
Stares back at you as your
Up-the-ladder false hopes
Go escalator bye-bye; and by,
Staring at you,
Pinning you to a wall
With Econ 101 clarity,
As taught by Karl,
Another wily Jew:
It is a treadmill, after all,
Noting again the clever juxtaposition
Of a Jew and a handful of Christians,
Devotees of random Protestant sects.
The following link is a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.
(Who Cares ON HOLD INDEFINITELY Chapter Twenty - Page 1 ...
www.wattpad.com/4225578-who-cares-on-hold-indefinitely-chapte­r-twe...‎
Apr 22, 2012 - Leanna was totally stunned by this and immediately halted in her tracks and began to scream at such a high decibel, Opia could hear her ears...) That’s right, another commercial in the middle of a ******* poem. The proceeding link was a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.@*******.
Expedia Review:
The Windemere.
Its last syllable from Old English 'mere',
Meaning 'lake' or 'pool'.
A magical name
Reeking, swirling through your mind,
Lavender & English lakes
With steam ferries.
Ne c'est pas?

I arrived at the front desk?
The computers are down,
Having earlier that day
Been hacked into.
No restaurant.
No bar.
Nowhere.
Scaffolding & drop cloths,
Everywhere.
Construction materiel,
Everywhere.
When you finally get your swipe card,
You Notice that the “Buy One, Get One”
Pizza promo, laminated on one side,
Expired about 5 months ago.
The drive to the room
Is wry recognition that
The Windemere Hotel
& Conference Center*
Is actually a ****** motel.
Backhoes & cranes,
Everywhere.
Multiple, out-door spaces
Sectioned off with police
Yellow crime-scene tape.
Everywhere.
Railings on balconies
Appear to be seconds away
From giving way.
Odor, anyone?
You can count on it,
The moment that electronically-challenged keybox
Gives up its flashing green dot ghost.

Most times you get less
Than you pay for.
$47.00 a night?
Please ask,
Next time,
What's the catch?
“WHAT DID YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR STAY?”
Again, Numb-nuts,
You think it’s a poem.
But it’s actually my
Fakokta Expedia Review.
WHAT DID I LIKE?
This one I had to think about,
Coming up, quickly . . .
(An advertisement generated by algorithms for your amusement follows)
. . . ***** Spray for Premature ******* - Web Site - the home page. www2 rochesterhomepage.net/...Premature-*******/CHedfhhlmkmt-i...‎­Aug 2, 2013 - ***** Spray for Premature ******* Spray Helps Men Last 6 ... 54% of the men in the placebo group delayed ******* for more than one . . .
Coming quickly with Dwight David Eisenhower,
The man we liked & called IKE.
When asked if his VP Nixon--
Running for President himself,
In a tight race with JFK—
Had distinguished himself in any way
In his 8 years as his Vice-President?”
IKE replied:
"Give me a minute and
I'm sure I can think of something."

Not a ringing endorsement.
IKE knew something
The rest of us had to wait for 1973,
Reserving a room at the The Watergate,
Close to Foggy Bottom & Georgetown:
THE WATERGATE HOTEL
& CONFERENCE CENTER,
Just like The Windemere,
Another ****** motel.
**** me! What was I thinking?

Not to mention lack of privacy,
Be it acoustic or visual and,
In one case a veritable DEA bust.
Crack ***** in residence next door,
Cranes her neck around the balcony wall,
A would-be nurse, perhaps,
Offering home hospice &
Concern for your raspy,
***-smoking cough.
Her pox face bursting in on
The long anticipated
Marijuana Miller Time.
On the veranda, early evening,
Lighting up your first joint of the day,
Desperately in need
Of some herbal peace of mind.
Ne c'est pas?
Her big crack-***** head
Giraffes like crazy around the wall,
Invading your balcony space.
*******? Who was that?
Let’s lock the doors.
Let's hunker down for the night,
Taking turns keeping watch,
Like a couple of shitless scared
Grunts of the DMZ.
(Urban Dictionary: scared shitless www.urbandictionary.com/define. Ph?term=scared%20shitlessIt's when you scare someone to such an extent, you scare the **** out of them, at times causing them to excrement all over the vicinity . . .)
The Expedia Review goes on:
Anything interesting about the surrounding area?
Oh, yes, as previously mentioned:
Plenty of crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.


Hey, Windemere Hotel,
*** am I doing in Mesa, Arizona,
Two days shy of the summer solstice,
And 119 degrees?
That's another story.
But for now,
Hey Windemere,
Here’s a tip:
Next time it's total facility makeover time,
Shut the **** hotel, please.
Yenson Oct 2019
In the Magical Marine parade on the Western pier
the Cods next door that happily served the Albino sharks
that father Cod, used to hedge wheels and trust and distrust
and welcomed as a member of the great Red Sea revolt waves
Now feels shamed and subdued for the white sharks shows true hues
has seen how the sharks play ***** and left his fellow Cods helpless
How he hates those Albino sharks full of lies and trickery and mean

The Pink lady fish also joined the great Red Sea Revolt
swimming all the way from the warm seas of the Gulf to fight
the Albino sharks welcome and courted them all, made them sisters
betray those black eels and join with us, destroy those long parasites
but then the Albino sharks went to the Gulf and polluted all the areas
sharks created turmoil and banned plankton from all the fishes there
the Pink lady fish see their families suffer and sees the evils of Sharks

The Albino Sharks say we are the rulers of the whole seven seas
we are the smartest and we have atomic fins and will **** oppositions
you all do as we say or else you will all sleep with the fishes forever
and the Cods next door and the Pink lady fish all realize the evil now
for once they had all been feted and welcomed by the Albino Sharks
made to feel belonged in blue yonder and happily served the sharks
now they know sharks just use you and toss you away as they like

In pain Cods and Pink lady fish see how terrible these Sharks are
they remember they joined the Red Sea Revolt to harass black eels
they were told all kinds of lies about a great black eel and sold hate
yet they saw no wrong in that majestic eel but the Sharks hated it
they too readily did all they were ordered to do cause its solidarity
Now with their own kith and kin on the receiving end of Shark evil
In their broken hearts they know Albino Sharks are dangerous evil
wicked, heartless, lying, conniving, mean-spirited, bullying pond-life
Alas, they learned the hard way.....
Port Rose Oct 2013
Drip drip drip
want and plan and
prepare and wait,
overthinking can get you far,
into insanity

moving so fast theres too much to do,
so little time, so what do you do?

nothing

how long has it been
i cant figure out time
i cant figure out me
or the cheat cods to live right,
and im frustrated i can't finish
too many thoughts in too little time

all this and the next drop hasnt even fallen yet

drip
oh there
drip drip drip
a.n.- i know it doesnt make much sense, kind of composed hastily you see, trying to jot down thoughts in real time, i supposed the drops could be a unit to measure the time, hopefully it will come across the way it was intended
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
yes... cold-turkey for a day...
the one will do it...
i just smoked a second one...
and the "hit" is not as benevolent...
simple arithmetic...
a carton is 200 cigarettes...
that's 200 days...
if i stick to this "pattern"...
no pointless cigarettes...
with coffee first thing in the morning:
on the medical "fast"...
after a grand meal...
cold-turkey throughout the day...
one balanced with a generous
amount of bourbon: surfing
the night-cap...
this could work...
      no... no point paying homage
to the romance of rolling tobacco...
a single marlboro will do...
esp. if it comes from eastern europe...
to have to start to treat it
as homage... something...
sacred... that's better than simply
quitting...
much... much better...
this late pseudo-caffeine hit
in the day...
first day... 2 cigarettes in a drinking
session is unnecessary...
one will do...
receptors become blunted...
and now the gratification from
"over-stepping" the mark...
and the gratification of...
not bound to a tarantula numbing-bite...
something has to make sense in
this world: let's begin with this...

i.e. thank god i do not make videos...
writing doesn't really allow
for... what happens with
a video... there's the preserved:
address to the writer...
and the medium of the reader...
rarely will you find yourself
bound to read two readers
competing: for the crown
prince of echo chamber...
not that i'd reply... no higher power...
a laptop... no mobile device...
the internet access is static...

2 is a "magic" number...
after 2 i imagines the gateway: fully opened
for the orc horde of dwugs:
      i'm standing: upright... content...
to tease the addiction...
as if: "as if" for the very first time...
cold turkey my ***...
because of covid-19 "discrepancies"...
no "black market" cheap cigarettes
from moldova...
or romania... poland, ukraine or
bulgaria...

            checked the feed-drip...
cold-turkey for a day...
complete the day with a cigarette...
200 cigarettes in a carton at...
£35... that's what... per annum?
       365... we're talking about...
roughly... 50 quids worth...
of: taming this beast...

                 for a year...
                              yes... this could
very much work...
            and what is the perfect sandwich...
of... extravagance?
a bagel... or some toasted rye...
english butter... smoked salmon...
cucumber... dill... mayonnaise...
and... rainbow trout caviar...
is caviar "all that"?
     it's like marmite... you either love it:
or... hate it...
it's not a luxury... if it was...
a luxury... it would be universally sought
after...
it would be a luxury... for both the rich...
as it would be for the poor...

minor note: how were oysters treated
in Dickensian times?
weren't oysters the food of the poor?
and now? suddenly they have become
a luxury product...
something only the rich are supposed
to enjoy... cods-wallop!

caviar is not a luxury...
but... if you're asking questions about
a palette...
rainbow trout caviar balances out
the smoked salmon...
truly... the fish retains its status as fish...
and the smokiness is tamed...
almost subverted...

the cucumber the dill the mayonnaise...
auxiliary details...
but of course the cemented base:
toasted rye works as many more:
lazarus resurrected miracles as a bagel...

caviar is not a luxury...
in st. petersburg there's this pancake
fast-food outlet... where caviar is dripping...
there are copious amounts of this
**** dished out...
not everyone buys the caviar panny...
because: caviar is not a status symbol
of luxury... it's in the category of marmite...
it's for oddities...
       it's equivalent to... a concentrated
taste of fish...
burst a pill of shark oil fat... omega 3 etc...
perhaps...
    
  once upon a time... TRAN...
was forced upon children in school...
so they could harbour a strong immune system...
tran? cod-liver oil... no... not in capsules...
on the end of a teaspoon...

can i imagine eating caviar...
beside the zenith of the above described
sandwich? well... yeah...
but it wouldn't be rainbow-trout caviar...
beluga / caspian sea caviar...
on the tip of... a slice of...
a napoli pizza...
    anchovies do not have a taste
of fish... salty shrimp whittle wichards...
the best fish: are ate...
with all their bones intact...
sometimes even their heads and eyes...
like...
           smoked... sprats...
nonetheless: caviar is not a luxury product...
nor is blue cheese...
who doesn't have...
a taste for... the "obscene"?

   peanuts and beer in the grand hall of
the west...
in st. petersburg... beer and dehydrated
shrimps... fish...
same ****... different cover...
i much prefer the extra guise of protein
over the fat of nuts... with a beer...

as a warning: oysters were... in Dickensian times...
eaten by the poor of the east end...
and caviar... that's like marmite...
or... salt & vinegar crisps...
you need to appreciate the piquant
detail of the food...
champagne... for example?
i can't drink that fuzzy-brain
anorexic ***** juice of cat... whiskers for
a violin... snarl... shreek...

caviar is not a luxury...
a luxury would imply: a universal...
translation... that... all those who could:
would want it... as much as those who
can't: would strive to also want it:
with enough savings to begin with: could...
but... caviar is marmite...
then again... smoked salmon is marmite...
a steak tartar(e) is  marmite...
i'd call a slab of beef: well done
to be... a doubly-butchered piece of meat...
others... are fond of... fish-fingers...

this can be done...
i can keep track of this choo-choo-train...
200 cigarettes per carton...
that's beyond half a year...
     cold turkey the day...
no... 2 cigarettes is too much...
after the whole day done cold turkey...
it's a beneficial ferris-wheel "dilema"
at the end of the day...
oh... esp. with the bouron...
yes... the matter is not going to be
approved for dialectical concerns...

i call for the advent of "sanctimony"...
         the "superiority" coming from the depths
of... not the cold-turkey lot...
nor the: 20 per day...
and zinc and copper licking tongue
numbing at the end of it...
this one a day...
                     and the bourbon...
ogh! mein gott! come to think of it...
the money?!
money comes last...
so much for "saving" the money from...
not smoking...
where to: a vinyl collection...
aaah... a weekend trip to Prague...
you really need a woman
to spend money...
           given that one can become
very... very... satisfied with
the basics...
esp. when one isn't a gambling man...
these days... gamble on what?
well... save up...
and have *** with a bulgarian *******
once a year...
or pretend to...
            that's probably best...
aim at... salvaging... the most...
wortheless maxim of a translation
of value... in the flesh:
the inanimate concept of money...
the guillotined head
of ol' lizzy the II charming
the heads / tails science debate...
          not getting richer...
not getting poorer...
                   playing a sleeper...
beside the essentials...
it's there... but... it's not there...
it's hardly spending...
it's hardly saving...
      it's a cushion... it's not avarice...
it's not...
beside of note:
the veil that's not in iron...
but is... like...
being paid in peanuts...
peanuts... pebbles... the common
denominator of: one-hundred copper-pence
coins in a brass pound!
i'll settle for... just that.
givin' a shout out
to all the young fellas
chasin' cheddar
hands on the berrata
cuz im go getter
like my hoes wetter
than the average twist .  cabbage
born a savage ill die a savage
these are just
the tales from the hood g
outkast built in me
no phonies on my block
we all had to knock
a hustle drugs n thangs for the struggle
we got switches n dead bodies in the dit ch es
some time my minds
spins faster than helicopter
propellers
aint neva chased a yella
bone phone home
soon cuz i feel the doom
sealin' my death soom
boom
there i go into another dimension
with all my past folks
blowin' smoke
sayin' jokes
we havin a good time
kick a good rhymes
feelin o so fine
drinkin' red wine
no body cant come between
my happiness
if ya know what i mean
aint no hate but i got hate
to all haters
watch me catch a gun in they pate
but thats reality
friends turn to foes i suppose
???


once upon a funky rhyme
i laid this beat so hard
it should be considered a crime
uh minds was blown
six feet deep as my spirit sinks
lower than a submarine
no radar could locate
my reality in actuality i be
silky smooth cuttin the groove
make ya wanna move
ya feet check my afro thick
with a fist pik n stick
the baddest hos with the baddest flows
cadillac music in ya trunk
so dont loose it
rhymes is choosen carefully
me and partna be
enticin girls like teddiy
pendergrass rough as a diaper rash crash
gotta make this cash
on delivery cods down for opp
opressors pimpin the poor
time to even the score sound the drums for war as i soar
in the mothership with two clips
on my nine blunt to lips
even got my girl packin
pistols n **** quick to whip
lift a fool out his frame
rick james cuz i got fire and desire
roll over ya *** like a set of tires grip the game like pliers
as i add peak to ya amfliers
who am i? Kb (killin'beats)ill be like this til they day i die
my homie and i aqueminiiiii
Bradley Brown Mar 2018
They say isolation is unhealthy for the weak
well have they ever spent months in a cinder block room?
No they spent their time in dorms and live in cape cods
Driving around fancy cars with their spectacular credit.

"I know how it feels son, you need to establish a support network"

"Well when I speak to another human being I feel like panhandling for a pint of lord so I don't throw up the only help I want is a ride to the store"

"I've dealt with a lot of people like you, why do you think you drink so much?"

"Well I like the way it feels
have you ever ****** two fat girls at once?"

"No sir, I'm married and have two kids"

"What about back in those dorms?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well I have and that's how I feel all the time".
Just try to laugh you know...
(° ͜ʖ ͡°)  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


I am not nearly half done with your deliciously-asinine pole quarter
in the maelstrom of Tom Verlaine's interpretive, breakin' goal sorter
'neath red Heinz factory vats a rat, vole & chipmunking-mole porter
******* to elongate linearly a pornocratic guy's deader soul shorter
For you girly love I shall militantly refuse to relinquish & squander
provisions for amateurish gynecologic care that'll inwardly launder
stem to stern tissue clumps from your Fallopians to way out yonder
to broad ports, portals & portions of which I cannot be more fonder
even of your fuzzy muffin tuft bleached 30 Sassoon shades blonder
under a D.H.S./Orwellian 1984 hoax where medic is first responder
It's inevitable everybody that wondrous things will never ever cease
& it is 'cause Martin Luther, Junior died so we can all live in peace:
cost mart & loo Thor **** June yore dyed sue we con olive in peas
cuss mar & Lou Thor coot Jew nor tried zoo weakin' olive in piece
cods Martian Lew shirkin' chew war tied zoot ekin' shah livin' pees
cousin Mars & looser **** Jeweler tide sew we kin haul liftin' peas

HOW TO BE THE MOST HELPFUL NEIGHBOR IN THE WORLD EVER
~ "Rise from your flabby *** to help me *****. I'm your neighbor."
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
how not to quit smoking...
                          what a cods-wallop!
you can hear the stories of smokers
of a packet a day for 20 years:
perhaps they started in the vein:
of a rebellious teen:
going full cold-turkey and abruptly
quitting -
sometimes relapsing...

personally: i don't want to quit...
that there's a myth of coffee and cigarettes...
last time i checked...
there were the people who would
smoke when drinking alcohol...

the smell and the taste of tobacco...
come to think of it...
it was never to be coupled with
coffee: since we're not talking
apéritifs and digestifs and food...

we're talking... nicotine and caffeine...
and we're talking... tobacco
and coffee per se -
a balanacing act of the palette...

smoking always went together with
a bourbon...
never the coffee...
somehow drinking some hard liquor
while enjoying a cigarette...
is so much more...

   there's no need for a cigar...
but all this cold turkey crap and quitting...
i had to take an alternative route...

going cold-turkey for a day...
the thoughts were a problem...
smoking is less a physical addiction
after a while...
something... more... habitual...
during the day: i skipped the first...
and the second... the one with the coffee...
and esp. the ones after a meal...

but when i started looking for a night-cap
i said: ******* cold-turkey...
the day was finished...
    i don't want to: distrust the compliment
something gives another...

cutting down from circa 20 per day...
to 2... and these being smoked when
drinking bourbon?
the middle ground... always the middle ground...

never again: a cigarette on its own...
or with coffee...
most certainly no cigarette smoking
after a meal...
but when the bourbon comes out...
this entire day...
                 how to become more sensible...
pass the day: from one habitual missing
link to another...
taking up a jazz apple...
an orange... some peacan nuts...
fiddling with a toothpick...
everything concerning:
a delay of gratification...

                  and why quit in the first place?
well... covid-19...
the quarantining of healthy individuals...
which implies that...
the moldovians and the romanians
and the bulgarians are not travelling...

       the poles did likewise... once upon a time...
it's hardly a black market of cigarettes...
just... the currency differences...
so they'd sell a carton of marlboros for...
something in the range of...
good old days £25... a carton: 200 cigarettes...
£30 and £35 still pretty decent...
hell... sometimes even coughing up
£45 a carton... dire times...

but... buying cigarettes...
                      at the retail price...
in england... i wouldn't be a "recovering" smoker...
if: the whole "adventure" would be
suicide... i'd sooner have become
a crack-******* addict...

cold turkey day no. 1...
i might as well have just smoked
                  some crack-*******...
or drank 5 cups of espresso...
but since i haven't... drank 5 cups of espresso
and smoked a cigarette...
instead: drank some bourbon
and smoked a cigarette...
             well... it's a really fine balancing act...

the alcohol will have to be the cushion
that i do not over-step the boundaries...
i.e. smoke more than 2 cigarettes in
this session...
               i'll begin with 2...
after an entire day of cold-turkey...
let this be my Pavlov experiment...

        the effect will wear off as quick as
it comes... but to keep the glutton monster
at bay... the same dosage of alcohol...
all in all... to go back to the original
threshold... not this... numbed:
habitual goblin of...
                    the sanctity of a cigarette...
is not with a coffee in the morning...
or after a meal...
or just "anywhere" and at just "anytime"...

the altar of sitting perched on a windowsill...
bourbon in hand...
at the end of the day...
somehow wanting to spew some words
onto a paper...

like hell i'll quit...
but from circa 20 a day: at the lowest ebb...
circa 40...
                to 2 cigarettes a day?
with that compliment of bourbon?
measure! measure of all things!
           enough of what is necessary...
so that... it doesn't become habitual...
outside of the realm of sanctity...
                the ritual of addressing the bed...
many a times...
before that bed: will most certainly
become a coffin...

a sly drink during the day?
no... a devoid of importance cigarette...
at the beginning of the day?
no... but the sanctity of the evening...
well... that's as special as...
the first time someone turned on
a light-bulb!

— The End —