Jumping on the crunchies
And crushing where I step,
Absorbed in each breath.

Where fall leaves stale,
I plant these stomps
going nowhere,
In particular.

Then I saw you
Stepping on
crunchies too,
consumed,
Simple and true.
With all of you.

Stay playful, stranger, curious.
There's enough crunch
For the both of us.

So I guess the world is screaming that we need to end Racism and Offensive words and Labels, but what happens when a piece of writing from someone who is seeing the whole world screaming about one thing, but yet acting normal just after a few weeks of it hitting the social media and media outlets.

So I decided to write this including all the Racial and offensive terms that I could research and put them in a list, If we are to discuss and try and make things better, then why should we be scared to be called racist or evil for pin pointing stupidity out because everyone else whether upset, angry or hateful towards someone or a community, even a group and let see how many people lie about not using any offensive or racist term online or in person, even if you thought it and not even said it.

Cause thinking the offensive or racist term/word also makes you just as bad of a person that speaks the words.

"

A Fair amount of Research when into this, and it a good way of explaining,
How we all see each other and every single person on this planet.
This was written to prove that everything is offensive,
that no one is every in a situation that is similar, but in a situation where histories are different,
But yet, if you are offended by this, trust me, I bet you even use some offensive, racial terms and labels to describe someone you hate or don't like,
So what makes you different from me or the next person who is classed as offensive.

Labels, Stop,
Labels, Go ahead,
Labels, all the others,
Go ahead and write them,
Fabric, paper and on skin,
Just let the labels sink in.


All Races and Enthics Racial Terms that are Labels, Not only Blacks and White's.
You're Racist,
You're a Ngger,
You're a ******,
You're 8 Mile.
You're a Albino,
You're a Bean Dipper,
You're a Beach Ngger,
You're a Baijo.
You're a *****,
You're a Guati,
You're a Beanbag,
You're a Border N*gger,
Border Hopper,
You're a FOB,
You're an Curry Muncher,
You're a Desi,
You're a Dot/Dot Head,
Here Dotti,
We are at war with the Crunchies,
The Whacky jinglies,
You're an Irish Cat Licker,
Are you actually an F.B.I,
You're religious, you ***** Mackerel Snapper,
Look at all these Irish Indian Narrow Backs,

All Other Labels,
You're a puff,
You're a *****,
You're a ***,
You're a *****,
You're so Ratchet,
You're an illegal Alien,
Hey we both gay, but that no ****,
*****, **, ****,
You're Bisexual - that just straight privilege,
You're a ******,
He, She, Never mind you just look like cousin IT,
You're a ****, ****, Never mind I can see you're a *****,
You're stupid, thick, dumb,
Just a fat *** that just chubby and overweight,
******* hell, you're crazy, lost the plot,
You are ******* disturbed, bat **** crazy, Psychotic *******,
You're a bible thumper, that explains the homophobic ****,
You're a Fundie, God botherer,
Bible Basher, you know God is a child thrasher,
You're a *****,
You're small are you a ******,
You look like you're apart of DC/Marvel a ******* Mutant,
Eww what is wrong with your face are you a Mongol,
That just hysterical so you must be *******,
everyone is a ******* Imbecile.

Falling into his“Love Batter we learn to think
what really matters its a science
Not a test this is far from the reader's digest
Traveling East or West what motivates you the best

How every ingredient  makes you feel cozy
Rose sprinkle no time to be
(Rip Van Winkle) no sleepy time Chai tea time
How do we ever find the time
Telling someone to be mine be more entertaining
then tell her you really love her what's inside her

How to flatter her and give her your better heart of time
Send her an equally love letter with your love ingredients
Be obedient with poise light up her baking flowers pansies
A musical instrument with a subtle sound of noise
Something is giving you the crunchies
Her baking lips how they cream into the stem rose pink,
I fell for her red-hot, ones love batter I wanted to drink
Radiant as can be the next sugar high shot

Any suggestions
On so many missions
Love liaisons add some golden raisins
Love was coupled hands mixed eyes double

Falling for him and lifting her up sings.

Her gravity spooned angelic wings.

sugared and floured hearts angel dust.

We bond together to trust.

For the right reasons Valentine all seasons.

I suggest we get started I cannot resist

The moon shuffles wedding list

A-Couple A-+stumble

Kisses of an hmm-yum gamble

He’s hot and I am cold

Weather together eyes coupled

We stay strong where we belong

You Betcha or I will bake ya…


When we come together we listen.

The birds heat lucky red words.

Get’s easier the same person glistens.

We have and baking fingers hold.

The same kisser reaction

extraordinary to marry.

Love triply floppy disk.

Hands wedding finger

mixing perfect whisk.

How he bakes me a cake.

His easy task heavenly

love falling ingredients divinely.

All the right condiments.

Sugar dissolved love pursued.

I never in my life felt like this.

Love so crazy glued…

Smoked a spliff under the holly
tra la la la la tra la la la
'tis the reason I'm so jolly
tra la la la la tra la la la
now I've found I have the munchies
tra la la la la tra la la la
bags of sweets and several
crunchies
tra la la la la tra la la la

i love that word, puttering, my adjective
of early morning rambling, world examining,
in the early AM, treading barefooted
from room to room, a list prestablished,
+ tidy up the prior evening’s laziness,
unload with complete silence the
prior nights dishwasher, homework,
prep the couch back to pre~beat~up presentability,

make the first 16.5 .oz of Blue Mountain
Hawaiian coffee, in my art history
McIntosh mug(1),
prepare the first of the day’s bitesized
edibles,
a:k:a, Kashi crunchies, so the coffee all
falls down  to a well~recv’d internal welcoming

the timing is off, the clock has changed,
it is early but not really, I’m constantly
recalculating ‘real time’ until confused,
substituting the internal locked-in clocking that ultimate divination of right and wrong,
the betting app informs us of the
under/over hours really slept line
set by Las Vegas oddsmakers

but as usual, the digression omens come
fast and furious, up in the sky apartment
is an oasis of cloud quietude,
(where the latitude and longitude
inter-sec, where the cleansed sun softly)

ah quietude, an envelopment noun
favored over the pedestrian quiet,
my ears,
fulfilled by music via noiseless earbuds,
fills the soul, it is the milk in the
morning coffee brew of the
crossover silence, tween the skyed division

check on the woman, deep asleep,
(pronouns: she/her/mine)
her arm thrown across my empty pillow, as if holding my place in line,
like besties in second grade, a warning to other potent interlopers,
so
withdraw silent to finish the routine that
is so comforting, the polit~noise chatter has
not yet invaded, all of its associated
malice’s tumult, kept away at bay
with forethought,
and instead, thus, I, write,

in this quilt of solitude, not alone,
write of this companioned morn~born~rituals that
will be one day,
be renamed,
as a

mourning ritual,

when
when life ruefully states in its
arrogant ~ don’t ~ care, no ways,
now that,

When,
one of us, be
sleeping permanent, and the
silence be reformatted, recalculated,
the coffee will taste different, and
the footfalls no longer unsqueaking,
no need, cause the solitude is just
renamed as loneliness, and though
the tears emanate from same tear ducts,
the causal reasoning is reversed,
no longer
celebratory, and with no one to show it off,
to share,
no punch in the arm gasp
of loving recognition,

I perforce new habit,
will read this puttering,
now stuttering poem

someday as a new summary,
a substitutable morn chore,
absent
a chorus of a
singly
singular
beautiful quiet but only
memorized,
silenced applause

Towering quite over my palette
Delicious array of crunchies
And soft munchies
Celebratory dances hail
In the taste buds
Let the festivities begin
Begin with the array
To please the palettes
Of matter and mind
Yoo-hoo
It’s already in the air

Part One - Before we ever met
----------------------------------------
She was a clean thing, but didn't ever scrub herself, or soap herself, like the other girls would.
Instead she’d sometimes slide away from the house and crawl down the side of the valley into the river.

The river that would swell suddenly in the night after some storm, forcing its way violently through the forests in the valley, lifting things and sometimes, someone said, even moving a tree.

And there she'd sit, cold and calm in the river. Naked and shivering in the dark water, neck deep so she looked like a funny little round thing bobbing on the water, blinking.

She wasn’t afraid, anymore, that her past was looking for her.
That great metaphor, swooping through the night  like a Hawk, but with a giant human nose, trying to smell her from some long distance away,
with claws and flight and that giant human nose,
But she knew if it ever did catch up with her, at least she would be clean.

In the coldest months the river really did drag entire trees away.
And facing downstream, always anticipating some fatal blow from behind, she felt just like another winter bruise the river had claimed.

Then in the summer months the water just hung about, slapping cheekily against the fertile banks where the budding flowers were tickled by streams.
Little trickles that raced against the blossoms for who could reach the river first.

Submerged in the water her skin was secretly a beast. And she loved to be in it.  

Part Two - After we had met
--------------------------------------
One day she's suddenly looking at me through the kitchen window waving a saw.
“Have you still got that blue silk smoking jacket?”
…
“I want to skin a rabbit and thought we could dress up and do it together, skin it together out in the disused airfield behind the train station.”

I want her to be my girlfriend, she kinda already is, but without any actual *******, so I say “yeh, yeh, that's just the kind of thing I'm into.”

..and she makes me wear this old blue silk jacket I found in the attic, but inside out, with the shiny paisley interior showing on the outside.

..and she wears a skirt over her jeans and I tie colourful sweet wrappers in her hair. Whispers and Crunchies, and a couple of Mars Bars.

And she's got a dead rabbit roadkill she found already, and we go to the airfield and saw it up.