With those acid wash jeans
With that full sleeve of twirling black ink
With the drapes of long hair
I thought that we could leave the xplosion-club
After the confection of colognes
After the South African red wine
After the pounding music all night
Something **** about
A statue that can move
It's eyes
Something **** about
A man that thinks
Openly

We took the subway back to my apartment
You picked up a pebble and tossed it
I was quieter now
Would I let him inside? I have to at this point it seems
A charming prince
is a charming prince

I open the door.
Nothing bad happens, as I expect
I am a little paranoid I don't know why
(The club flashes back)
The door closes without its usual creek,
And we're inside.
Me and the charmer; I wonder, was he once a frog?
I have a funny feeling that I think came from the wine
Am I trashed or
Does he have horns?
Slimy toadskin, red eyes, 1000 inches of claws
Suddenly
Are upon me, Oh my God!
I tell it to leave mE ALONE,
It doesn't listen to me.

Every time I try to slip out of it's grip
I slide into a claw
Gushing this stuff from the movies,
It covered the bed and then the floor,
It probably leaked out from under the apartment door.

My cellphone rings in my pants pocket
I can't reach it because by then this grendel thing had broken me
Into two legs, a torso, two arms
And a decapitated head
While it eats my right lung, my left hand tries to desperately crawl away
He pokes it with a great fork; no escaping crums
The awful amphibian finishes and leaves forever.
He's never coming back
A winner-and-loser kind of ***, I guess.

The mythical ethereal tree balancing 9 parallel dimensions uniquely different to our own. In perfection the equilibrium of its natural power gives life to the heavens fruit to the earth and water to the stars. A holy reverent insignia a symbol of justice and order the tree itself is the embodiment of the individual soul of God. The root of the tree is indestructible and immortal. It's branches flourish thru the cosmos and it's splendor can be seen from the most far away star. Deep within a Heavenly Realm the tree has its resting place. Secluded and alone from the rest of the Heavenly host. Alone only God himself is allowed to visit it's hidden location. Three Querubins watch over the tree at all times never allowed to leave their post. This is known as the "Mother Tree" part of the core to God's soul.

The wisdom and freedom the tree itself carries is superior than the one God has. Henceforth, if the tree were to get destroyed somehow Gods immortality will seize to be. For the fruit that the tree carries grants it's consumer immortality and limitless power to control time, space, creation. The power of destruction is only given to those who have earned it thru endless evil delegated from deep within their corrupted soul.

The perfect creation a Querubin made in Grandiose Splendor... Insurmountable power yet inferior to his Creator. Deep within the Chariot Of God Lucifer plotted to take down God and take 4 million Angels from Gods heavenly Army. In total God had 12 million Angels protecting Heaven and its contents. So Lucifer being in the hierarchy bracket of the Angelic Host Beginning with the Master Angel known to be the primordial spirit also known as the Holy Spirit a being that Humans can feel Angels can't see or hear him but they can also feel multirealitic presence for he inhabits all the 9 parallel dimensions. He is the Main Chief Executive Master of All Angels Heavenly Creatures and Heavenly Host including Gods only begotten Son Jesus Christ. From a time when time and matter didnt exist antimatter was the only thing present in the Unique Dimension
That God alone and nothing resided there because is known as the Reflection Master Black Hole it means only God knows the code to enter this dimension separated from all the other 9 Dimensions for this are the 10th and 11th Dimension the 10th being a place so miniature and so undescribably small that his particle alone existed there. The 11th dimension a dimension that only God himself knows what's inside for it is told by an Ancient Rumor that there is something beyond eternity and immortality something beyond the scope of limits and limitations powers and imagination of even knowledge of all heavenly host combined even to Jesus it is not permitted to enter this realm for whatever is being held there puts his life at risk and his immortality at stake. For only Yahweh holds *Ultimatum Immortalis or known as Ultimate Immortality the unique gift to live anywhere where his imagination and force of power is able to roam and create or destroy. Even it it's made from the massive unexplainable and inexplicable force that a supermassive black hole has. Pressure and Force unknown to man and for us to calculate even the smallest black hole in the universe its size force and power is mysteriously unexplicable and unobtainable now let's take a supermassive one which is out of our rational thinking and yet so much so more mysterious than the ordinary black hole. Knowing God alone all knowing and unknowning in the Multiverse the deepest most illusive and superior knowledge known to man and even God alike is who created the Book of Life there everything containing life has a word a meaning and a unique life attribute and death attribute vibration in the multiverse.  

The Only One containing neither attribute eeriely is God also known as Yahweh or Emmanuel and to some Creator. For eternity has not immortality and immortality supposedly has a destruction point and the final letters which are seven secret letters that unlock and relock dimension 11th to be opened or closed so that destruction won't consume all realms and God himself.

From then on nothing more is known to Angel, Demon, Man or Beast or Ethereal being...

Seven trillion years had passed since the beginning point of creation when God alone had created the dimensions >6.9< being his primordial creation the Son along with the Holy Spirit and in latter time came the Heavenly Beings and even later time extraterrestrial species and mankind. God ruled over all parts of the Heavenly Kingdom which consisted of 8 different parts. The Altar and Courtroom of God's heavenly host located in the North Side of the Heavens. The Majestic Garden placed in the Northeast of heavens. The palace of the Grandiose Predecessor God of the Old and Savior of all existence known to God himself as the Original God speculated to be the creator of the Book of Life who's immortal existence and Ultimatum Immortalis was destroyed by unknown reasons to all except Yahweh. This particular place is located in the Northwest of heavens. In the Southeast part of heaven lies all the heavenly creatures. Including 3 dragons with celestial beauty and tremendous power. The first Dragon had a Dark pigmentation and red smoke emanating from his body his eyes where red like the color of blood. The second one had transparent crystalline like skin and golden eyes. The Final Dragon was a small petite dragon flying I n between the two big dragons small in figure but very radiant in light he had 13 halos on his head and 12 wings... Five mighty beast like where also in the room. The first was a lion head with griffons wings and a rattle snake tail the second beast had a face of an eagle with a body of a cheetah and the tail of a scorpion the third had the face of a elephant with the body of a human being decorated with precious stones and mir. The last creature had the body of a giant with 8 arms and five legs he had a mysterious glowing mask on that revealed 4 faces each with a unique expression on their sculpture. From there there was a long corridor that lead to the southwest side of heaven in this place was a city made out of Gold the floor made out of platinum and it was really bright and shiny everywhere. I could see mansions as far as the eye could take you all prepared for the saved and rescued souls Jesus had gathered on Earth. From there we visited the South side of heaven where 12,000 Querubins 25,000 Seraphim's and 75,000 Messenger Angels gathered listening to Arch-Angel Nathaniel stood giving direct orders to all the Angels gathered. In the middle was a huge rupture on the floor that from what I heard Nathaniel say leads to one of the 8 Circles of Infernus the hellish realm of all condemned Angels who had revealed or betrayed God. It is said that God did not create hell but that it had always been there locked away and kept contained and under surveillance by all Warrior type Angels. The Angels that had been in missions and had taken a trip down to that Dark and Infernal place a place of pain and horror a place of solitude and no presence of God anywhere to be found the majority of them revealed or had turn their faith from God and became a Demon but the ones who had come back victorious and conquered within are a selected few and lived to tell the tale. As this speech was going on Lucifer was preparing to give out a speech in the throne room for him being Speaker Of the House and the the Second Commander of Platoon Squad Army of Angels composed of 1.8 mil Angels with the 2 other Arch Angels known as Jarvan and Krylinn. Arch Angel Jarvan is first in command then comes second in command Lucifer and lastly but not least the beautiful warrior angel known as Krylinn Elite Angel Squad #6 composed of 4 Arch Angels who took down a Legendary Beast in Infernus known as Inrah

Inrah resides in the 7th Circle of Hell...a collosal beast with tremendous power Part Demon and Part Angel it's a hybrid Demon 11 ft tall with 9 wings a small wing emanating from his head and four wings in his right side on his back and another four wings from the left side of his back.  Each wing had a natural element 2 made out of ice another 2 made out of fire another 2 made out of thunder and the last 2 made out of earth. The small wing made out of Shadow. From what the Angels could see Arch Angel Valerye Arch Angel Leona Arch Angel Krylinn and last member Arch Angel Sebastian. Each Arch Angel had a Legendary Equipment on Sebastian he weilded a Heavenly Crossbow with precious stones on it. A light armor to be able to move efficiently and quickly Sebastian is a Master Archer LvI for there being three levels of mastery in total and only 777 Angels made the cut to become a LvI Mastery Archer Angel. In the bracket of the Angelic hierarchy there is Levels of Power, Skill and Tactics. The Levels range from Messenger Angels range from Lv1-Lv150 max 200. Seraphim's range from Lv200 to 450max Lv. Querubin range from Lv400-750 and the unique couple known as Lucifer and Querubin Morrigan who's power ranges from Lv475 to Lv800 and Lucifer from Lv500 to Lv850. Arch Angels range from Lv500 to Lv1000. God's Lv? Lv?. The Son Jesus Christ has a power level of Lv1000 who he himself has Elite gear Legendary gear and lastly Juggernaut gear. His partner Arch Angel Leona she wilded a Heavenly sword shield and Special Heavenly Attributes to use a doppelganger. Her Armor was Legendary. Armor Levels Regular Lv1-150 Rare Lv150-300 Elite Lv300-375 Legendary Lv375-500 Master Lv500-800 and Unique Lv 800-1000.  The Third member of the Group Krylinn was wearing a hybrid armor made out of glass/blue crystals a specially made glass so powerful it's Lv is Unique. She was wearing a Heavenly gun with a Heavenly wip. Lastly the final member of the group Warrior Valerye also known as her nickname Grand Valkerye of the Heavens for her wings are slightly bigger and her body anatomy is muscular. She wore a platinum armor with a large Heavenly Sword. From what it seemed it was a two handed weapon. Each Arch Angel range from 6ft to 8ft rare ones 8 and a half. This Hybrid demon however could talk each of their Angelic Tribe Language...and they where all surprised. Inrah being from the Southwest side of heaven had revealed over 2 years ago and was never seen in Heaven anymore but now he had resurfaced more powerful and a total corrupted Arch Angel who's level was Lv502-747 now he possessed a Lv of 1000. There it floats slowly but directly toward the Angels ... About 400 ft away floating in mid air and slowly depending to the ground of Infernus. To the Left what seems like a Lunatic Army of Lesser demons all decapitated and a Demon Lord killed deep within a crater of Infernus. Telepathically the Hybrid demon Inrah said to them in their native Angelic lenguage "Come form a pact with me and obtain Ultimatum Immortalis by me consuming your delicate feeble and frail immortal link between you and the spirit of God...hahaha you cannot defeat me."

Valerye looks at Sebastian in an instant like .4 seconds Inrah disappears and reappears so quickly that his immediate attack punching Valerye in the face and leaving a small bruise and a cut...As soon as she put her eyes back into focus with Inrah he lays headless in the ground It was Lv4 Cosmic Light Arrow that hit him directly in the forehead...says Sebastian to Valerye who still rubbing her eyes due to the force of the punch...9 seconds later ...
Valerye: -Inside her head...I hear something as they where 366 ft away from Inrah who Sebastian and Krylinn checked his head and it was literally browned to pieces skull and all. Even his power level diminished slowly right after getting killed...or so they thought as much. Then Valerye quickly teleported directly in front of Inrah and suspected the worst his whole head was slowly rebuilding and reviving itself so before she even asked for help from the others they teleported directly to her location in front of Inrah. As his head was slowly yet increasing speed as time moved on from second to second so Krylinn took out her gun and shot him in the head about 100 times...then took out her special weapon the RocketGalacticGun equipped to be a minigun and a rocket launcher. So she used all her attacks on the body of the demon dispersing his body parts everywhere...it was a grotesque scene. The main part of the demon the torso was heavily damaged exposing parts of heart lungs and backbone. The wipp made huge holds with gushy wounds everywhere one lash hit Inrah so hard that it cut off his whole arm. They all looked at the extensive heavy damage they done to the Powerful ArchFiend. They all communicated to each other and agreed that Inrah's power level had hit 0 and they have waited 5 minutes for him to pull a stunt and reform but nothing so as soon as they come to agreement to leave the exact moment they decided that telepathically to each other Inrah pieces of flesh started to move and we're turning a metallic silverish goldish color. They tried to stop it but all of their attacks where somehow ineffective. Then they looked at the pieces all gathered in the ground they slowly started flossing and at first creating a small transparent shield slowly turning the color black till it was pitch black and huge about 25ft tall and 30ft wide. It then all the sudden standing in woe the Angels saw the horribly demonic ugly and ferocious zombie dragon. Green blue and red in color with soars all over the dragon licking fluid from the soars and this transparent white smoke coming from it. It had perfect denture but it was putrid and smelled like sewer waste and water. Yellowish black smudges and smears all over the dragons teeth. It roared and it's powerful battle cry made the Angels be a bit uneasy and scared to some degree...

The dragon with a whopping power level of 1000 yet Valerye a Lv 787 Berserk Warrior Angel couldn't dodge the attack of the monstrous dragon which spat a bubble of toxic liquids with a mixture of awful fumes that hit Valerye and she crashed to the ground...all the others came to her rescue...Sebastian using the Heavenly Crossbow Explosive Holy Rod Shots being the biggest and most heavy arrow with a powerful explosive ability creating a whole in it'd victims. The dragon oddly stood there calm and getting hit by the shots which where 5.  He shook his body as the last rod arrow hit him and wow only 1 stuck his body penetrating his body creating a wound and it gushing green thick with bluish lines liquid from its body. As Krylinn was hitting the dragon in the face causing it a couple lacerations. Trying to shot him in the Eye Krylinn gets smacked by the dragons hand and crashes to the ground cracking part of its armor. They telepathically get communicated by the dragon and he says "You shall not win this battle Angels for I have trained long and hard for 2 and a half years ever since I left heaven to seek for more complete power. Now you shall bear the fruits of my training. Now die...

*In the second part of this sequel we will review what happens to the Angels and with the speech Lucifer will conclude to give in Heaven in the Throne Room.

A deep breath—I fill my lungs and close the airway. Submerge my face in a pillow and resolve myself to wait until my lungs burn—I await the pain. My senses screaming, my lungs driving me to let them have the oxygen they so desire—I decline. Funny how I chose that which offers peace to the weary, an item that invites comfort to rob myself of that most archaic means of surviving. I find it interesting how calm I feel while denying myself that which I know I cannot live without. Isn’t it odd how we only become aware of the subtle currents of air that tickle our skin, raising chill bumps where it finds us bare when we deny ourselves its luxury? Luxury. That’s an interesting way to phrase it really—Breathing as a luxury. A gift of power, smug in our abuse and neglect we fail to see what we loose when we breathe. Lying here refusing to give myself life—for that’s what air is really, and breathing is living. I laugh. Oh yes, I find it funny. I catch myself readying to breathe again and I still that notion. Shove it down; subdue it until it is nothing but a stinging memory in my chest. It takes a lot of strength to deny yourself to breathe. But somehow that only drives me to test that strength.
I wonder if I will forget how? Could the muscle memory that pilots such a necessary involuntary act be forgotten? No, of course not. But perhaps the feeling of fresh air full of life could be. Could it? Perhaps not. For even as these words find themselves onto this page I find myself remembering what it feels like to expand my lungs, for the blood to cool as it gathers its fill with oxygen as it travels on its wending cyclical way. I laugh again. The burn begins to spread and I feel my muscles atrophy. Yet they tighten and tense as if under assault, screaming at the atrocity wrought upon them. Though still I refuse to breathe.
I roll away from the pillow, open my face to the still air and feel it tickle as it tries to find a weakness. Denying my lungs for so long I begin to feel my skin breathing. Absorbing oxygen as cellular mitosis continues in spite of my flirtatious dance. Maybe I am just dreaming. I feel the fire subside. As if my body accepts its doom. “No breath for you,” I say. “No easy outs.” And resolve continues.
Amazing how long a person can go without breathing, pushing ever closer to that most primal fear—that of not being able to breathe. But I can. I feel my chest involuntarily expand, demanding the very thing I strenuously withhold. I know by that alone that I can breathe, I can live. But still not once do I begin to inhale the sweetness that I need. I want it now, but the primal is so enticing. After all, it is when we fear that we truly know what it is to live. That’s when we feel life. As if it were a tangible being that we’ve strapped to ourselves so that it won’t escape. I’ve set mine free. I’ve let go. Maybe it will return to me. Maybe it will leave me in my vain attempts to deny myself to continue fickly on to another. But which do it want--Perhaps neither, perhaps something more. Beyond breathing, beyond mere muscle memory, beyond what I cling to. The Pain returns.
I want to breathe. I want to live. I want to feel the rush as all my body awakens and revels in new existence--Rebirth. Its odd how something so ordinary can redefine a person, how something so obviously taken for granted and ignored can make us anew—a Renaissance of living, giving new life to life, helping life live. That’s just funny to say. My chest chuckles--I can’t laugh. I can’t breathe so how could I anyway? I smile. Vanity is alluring. I am vain. I deny that which defines life just to feel alive. Vanity, Luxury, Rebirth, Pain—such is the nature of my breathing, the archaic nature of involuntarily driven muscle memory.
Would I even know how to breathe if it wasn’t burned into the most ancient quadrants of my brain? I don’t even know the part that drives the muscle memory. Perhaps when people die there are a few lingering moments where their lungs contract like the twitching mouth of a decapitated fish, gulping at air to fill dead lungs. Maybe breathing is so primal that it doesn’t end with the rest of the body.
The burn has come. I can feel the fire inside my chest. I welcome its warmth, rubbing my hands over the radiating inferno as if I just came from the dead winter cold without the weathering to block out the chill. The warmth permeates through me. Would breathing feel better than this? Could it? I doubt. Only at the razor edge of life while teetering upon the precipice stealing insecure glances to the other side on the off chance that we may glimpse a greener field do we know what living really is.  So aren’t I living now more so than ever before? Whilst denying myself a breath, aren’t I more aware of what it means to be alive? I laugh. Denying yourself air only leads to an end. No, the end--Death. Yet I appreciate life more so dying than living. I deserve to die. Taking for granted that which is stolen from innocents daily. Innocent? Now that’s a peculiar ideal. They are the same. I wonder if they are aware that they breathe. That’s absurd, of course they are. How could they not be? ******* life, ******* air, but do they know what it means?
I feel my lungs contract again—Pain. That’s all it is now, but why? I know I can breathe, yet I choose not to. Is it the act of forcing myself not to take a fresh breath, or the fact that I have yet to do so that hurts? Maybe it’s because I now know what I’ve been doing all these years. At the brink I realize what it means to live. Was I living before? Yes, but I wasn’t alive. Interesting that, to live without being alive—sounds as if I’m hooked to a load of machines keeping me from decay. That’s all they do really. Awareness, that’s living. Breathing is merely the means. The end is being aware, awakened to the fact that an action which you can’t control is the only thing keeping your head above ground. After all, even when drowning the body wants to breathe.
I open my mouth. I lie to my body. I still fill my lungs with nothing but stubborn desire, desire to delay my breathing. I imagine what it will feel like to take that first breath—a Renaissance of living. I can feel the blood in my veins bubble in anticipation. My body wants to be alive. My heart can’t beat fast enough. Striking a furious pace it pumps my blood through my body spreading life and oxygen to every limb making me light headed and delirious with its purity.
I’ve decided. I’m going to breathe again. I’m going to live. And what’s more, I’m going to be alive.
My mouth still open, my lungs still closed, still screaming, still burning, still tightening in their involuntary way—breathing air that isn’t there, air that they know is there, available to them at their whim. I open my lungs.
I exhale. Now that is interesting. I’ve denied myself the life of breath until my lungs begin to pump out of sheer memory and longing for that which gives them purpose. Denied that which defines life, that which I want—that I need. And I exhale?!? Further delaying what my instinct has told me to take? How is that logical?
Air rushes into my lungs. Funny, I scarce expanded them at all. I feel the life rushing to my fingertips, to my toes, to my ears and eyes—to my kidneys even. I am alive. It’s funny though. Part of me feels like I’ve just died, like I’ve ceased to live. I laugh long and hard, throaty and merry and so brim full of life. I began to live again, became alive at the very instant I ceased to exist. And it is so funny.

I am cut by the shards
of my shattered dreams
My hard heart broken by
the fist of my own ambition
Spilt milk and empty cups
All karma now has gone
For the Lord now slips away
As his every favour, now has gone
Alone now I stand in the shadows
of my shattered dreams

Lured I was by the mermaid's smile
My dreams smash on the rocks of time
Broken am I
By the crashing waves of change
All parts scattered and spread
I find myself adrift
On the ocean of Oneness

The wolves of destruction
devour all hopes and dreams
And goddess Kali drinks the blood
from my decapitated head
I feel the force of my father's fury
I stand in a field of rubble
Where a castle of faith once stood

My tears of ambition now fall
emptying the seas of conquest
That enslaved my marooned self
on the island of desire
Eyes freed from desire
see the Love in Kali's eyes
And thank the wolves
for slaying my hopes and dreams
for freedom comes to open
A door to the deeper self

"Holy Quambats!",
bellows low-orbit sports announcer 33e, a.k.a. Rick,
"The Zargoball's been switched! With a hopping Ugaroo!",

(An Ugaroo is an adorable jumping rodent from Vulky II, and a Quambat is the ten foot titanium pole typically used to hit a Zargoball across any particular preset playing perimeter- this for any listeners at home who are new to the sport.)

"Not to worry! It seems that Team Lime Green has gotten the Ugaroo caught in a snare- placed here in the ancient past for JUST such an occasion! Uh-oh! Here come the Iron Knights to try and steal their capture!"

(There are over 70,302 teams [exactly 70,303 teams] currently competing for possession of the Zargoball on planet Zargoz, partaking in the galaxies favorite interstellar pastime- a popular sport known also as Zargoz.  The current round began at an unknown date in the planets ancient history, and all that remain of its origins are a plethora of wildly conflicting and confusing myths. It seems here that Team Lime Green has passed down knowledge of their hidden snare for hundreds of generations through word of mouth before this incident today. Miraculously, their bizarre efforts appear to have payed off.)

"Oh, what a blast! The Zorodan Order has just dropped a neutron bomb over the site of the capture, eradicating all life within a fifty mile radius! All referees are currently contacting their lawyers! And now... The word is in! The new Zargoball has been placed in the Temple City, just outside the Zorodan Temple! Power move!"

(...)

"The timing however couldn't have been worse! It is now 29:29am of the third day of Rayah on the Zorodan Calendar! All Zorodan on Zargoz must now drop all clothing and physical possessions, sit on the ground, and spend the next 3 days in holy naked meditation! The Council of Crystals has now moved in and captured the temple, decapitating all naked Zorodan on sight! After burning down the temple, the Council will be transporting the Zargoball via Air Carrier to ninety-third base, where hoards of treasures await the recipient of this hard-earned point! It's a long journey though! Before they arrive, someone had better discover the secret location of ninety-third base! And quick!"

(The secret location of ninety-third base actually, out of sheer coincidence, is also inside the Zorodan Temple- however it will now likely be well over a hundred years before this is discovered, as the only living contestants with knowledge of its location have been recently decapitated and burned.)

"Folks, I'd like to take this minute to promote our sponsor, Fizzwerz! A bubbly drink, sweeter than theropian glass-grass and recently determined to be more highly addictive than human crack, now cost you only 13.1 Gobi credits! These are- HOLY GOD!! Attention folks, I'd like to interrupt this interruption to announce a spectator of honor here in the low-orbit VIP section! Actually God himself! What a serious honor! And now we return to our broadcast! Oh here we go! Oh dear! It seems that the pilot of the Crystal Council Air Carrier was a Swamper spy all along! The carriers passengers have all been knocked unconscious by his thick perfume! What a show!"

Your honor, 
My opening statement is as simple as this, 
Because of her/
A lot of these problems exist, 
Because I'm hurt/
I have these bandaids on my wrists,
Because of her/
I'm here requesting from you this writ,
....
I'm accusing the defendant of mental Incontinence,
Now Please be warned/
She is more than mentally competent,
She believes her words are to go without consequence,
Then has the gaul to think she deserves compliments,
I mean I'm sure there's a reason for this verbal diarrhea,
Some irreversible treason diva persona supersedes her,
Known to do the most/
While sayin the least,
My heart is the house/
She stopped paying her lease,
Karma's almost as scary , dreary, and tricky as guilt,
How she stopped paying the taxes on the house that we built,
How she just machine wash memories made outta silk,
Just stopped watering her feelings/ causing them to decay and wilt,
Got this heart on my sleeves/
Gotta fill this empty CHAMBER man,
Cause if you tryin to make magic/
Gotta make some major changes man,
These mental blocks so emphatic/
R.I.P Craig sager man,
But its loose ball fouls when I dive to save our plans,
Spent way to much time buildin fences, I'm defenseless,
But still I get defensive,
Payin you attention gets expensive,
I need some time to clear my head/
I may need an extension,
On second thought/
I'm gettin sick of blockin my ascension,
So I'm sueing you for custody of my heart,
I knew you liked to play games/
Knew that from the start,
But when a ***** played too/
You never laughed at that part,
Your body was a masterpiece/
but your mind was the art,
I ****** hate you/
But I loved our conversations,
Kinda how I hate school/
But I love my education,
Now I'm trying to make moves/
That boost my concentration,
cause I cant take losin/
And you're suess when it comes to complication,
Of our useless fights/
I can make a compilation,
Preferred the premium *****/
That prize is the consolation,
Jus when things are lookin up/
I'm in bed with the constellations,
Now I keep **** to myself/
Purposeful constipation,
I told her hit me with your best shot/
Now I'm feelin vaccinated,
Tried to tell her stay woke/
And now she still decaffeinated,
Now I'm Standing in the doorway/
Leonardo decapitated,
Little did I know/
Twas your name on the affidavit,
Tryin fix new problems/
With methods that's outdated, 
Feelins crept down the stairs/
Before they escalated,
Well **** it I'd rather slide/
No fun in the playground full of mood swings,
Felt like we hit the rock wall/
I cant stand the way you do things,
Mastered the art of storytelling/
She was the kubo to my two strings,
Now your carelessness/
can only lead to two things,
Times as hard as a brick clock/
And lies that get you ******* like shoe strings....©️

Devastated
Mental
War

Trauma
Decapitated
Enemies

Alone
Fear
Com­bat

Tortured
Lost
Sounds
Crazy

Fever-flushed children and
Broken bodies
Litter hospital halls like so much
Human refuse
….Wondering why
their need for care is treated so tepidly by a
Society which worships
Profits
Power and
Prestige
….Waiting while
they wallow in anguish as
Privacy
Paperwork and
Payment are
Debated by bureaucrats in cubicles
….Wanting to be refreshed and
restored to some measure of usefulness
….But
Free to Pursue Life on their terms in exchange for  
Silence
Acceptance and
Despair

Huddling for warmth and in
Fear of discovery
they assemble in rag-tag formation
having scaled formidable fences
Seeking freedom from
Poverty and oppression
Searching for work of any sort
….No matter how
Humiliating or
Hard
….No matter the
Cost or
Conditions
Disparaged and despised they labor
in hope that their children will have a chance for success
instead of suffering a similar fate
…..But
Free to Pursue Liberty
in a land where their presence is
Ignored if not Denied

Unkempt in camouflage
One-legged and
Vacant-eyed
he rolls his rickety wheelchair along grassy median with muted effort
displaying cardboard sign
childishly scripted
in one weather-worn and gnarled hand
while clutching a decapitated jug in the other
Forgotten
Forlorn, and
Discarded veteran
Victimized far more by country than foe
….But
Free to Pursue Happiness while
Begging on street corners as
Upright citizens dispense
Unwelcome opinions or
Pocket change with equal
Self-righteousness


Life
Liberty and the
Pursuit of happiness….
Ideals that slowly incinerate on the
Altar of Capitalism
….Songs forever lost in the
Cacophony now
Played on the
Instrument of Politics

Today I decided to go to my crib.
I then invited my homies to bid
that Lamar is goin to bring his kid.
So while I'll be chillin here popin some lids,
I noticed none of my homies have come to my crib,
not even Lamar and his kid.

So I tried actin all cool,
until I saw a small red pool.
I soon found myself a fool
by following that pool.

I found two brothers who were smothered in red.
One was dead,
and conceived a decapitated head.
It was Lamar who was stained red.

The otha brotha seemed to be a kid.
I said, "Why would you do somethin like this."
He said, "you will never find the otha bodies I hid."
I soon found my homies did make it to my crib,
Every single one of them were hung by the head.
They were all there except for Lamar's kid.

"I wish they'd stop going on about it, the things that are unseen but for brief glimpses and shadows, and fully heard. The beings in their closets and under their beds, their voices carried in a wind that isn't there. They stand, stiff, breathing shallow and deep in the lack of light, dripping wet from the storm that didn't happen in this world, muddying up the carpet, mounting with stench. They're not there, you idiots, they're over here, in my eyes, in my head, buried between my lungs and pushing the limits of my bones, my weaknesses. Stop your complaining. If only I could muffle you." ~ Jade Day


DO: Ah, yes. Ms. Day is also a favorite author of mine.

[Anaïs smiles at Do.]

NURSE YUCKI: Really? I actually think that is interesting that we have similar tastes in literature.

DO: I know right!

NURSE YUCKI: I mean she could hook you with just one word.

DO: That she can.

[Do turns his head in another direction; Anaïs looks down as she clears her throat.]

NURSE YUCKI: So how are you feeling Do? Are your emotions gradually beginning to retract back into a more manageable state?

DO: Yeah somewhat, but they are still fluctuating a bit. I think I will be fine.

NURSE YUCKI: Would you like me to monitor you just in case?

DO: No, thank you, Anaïs. I think I can handle my emotions for now, but I will let you know if something comes up.

NURSE YUCKI: Promise?

[Do smiles at Anaïs.]

DO: Promise.

[Do’s stomach began to growl loudly.]

NURSE YUCKI: Ooh. Someone is hungry I am assuming.

DO: Ha ha well your assumption wouldn’t be wrong Anaïs. I am a tad bit hungry actually.

NURSE YUCKI: Well, considering that it is now lunch time, I suggest that you go to the cafeteria and enjoy yourself a lovely, hot afternoon meal. The cafeteria is down the hall to your left and is the third room on your right. In the meantime I think I will take a little detour and purchase some premium foods to consume.

DO: You know that actually wouldn’t be a bad idea.

[Do and Anaïs both laugh in equal synchronization.]

NURSE YUCKI: I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Do.

DO: Yes, you will. Have a great day Anaïs and thanks again

NURSE YUCKI: You’re welcome.

[Anaïs smiles and winks at Do on her way out. Do smiles back. Do then leaves the black room and exits through the entrance. Above Do’s head were signs that helped to direct him to take the proper route, but there was no need for him to read it as Anaïs had already instructed him on how to get there. Do continues walking down the hall until he reaches the third room on his right. There was a big sign above the entrance that said “CAFETERIA”. Do then entered the cafeteria to handfuls of laughter and patients talking amongst themselves while eating the meal of their choice. There was a moderately long line of which Do joined as he waited along with the rest of the patients to receive his lunch. Do noticed that a girl with *****, blonde shoulder length hair was standing in front of him. She was wearing glasses with square black frames much like the glasses that Dr. Nightmare often wore. She had beady eyes of an exceptionally moderate size and her skin was pearly white with a smile that was naturally inviting. She then spotted Do and appropriately began speaking to him.]

SPORE: Hello there. How are you?

DO: I’m doing okay. Yourself?

SPORE: Yeah, I’m alright but I wish this line would move just a little bit faster. This is driving me bonkers. So what’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?

DO: My name is Do.

[Spore reaches out to shake Do’s hand.]

SPORE: Spore. You have a pretty cool name you know?

[Do lightly laughs.]

DO: Well, thank you.

SPORE: You are certainly welcome, Do.

[Spore smiles at Do.]

SPORE: So where are you from?

DO: Like what country am I from or like what city?

[Spore chuckles.]

SPORE: I meant in general silly ha ha.

DO: Well, I’m from North America. I was born in a small town called Springfield, Illinois but I was raised in Memphis, Tennessee.

SPORE: Interesting.

DO: How about you? Where are you from?

SPORE: I am from British Columbia, Canada although I was raised in a small city named Abbotsford.

DO: What was it like there?

SPORE: At times it was weird and some days were worse than others, but I somehow managed to pull through.

DO: So how did you end up in here?

SPORE: Long story short I nearly decapitated my former friend’s head off with a chainsaw then attempted to slit my wrists with it.

[Do looked shocked as he was laughing at Spore’s statement.]

DO: Oooh brutal are we?

SPORE: Hey, ******* be trippin’!

[Both Do and Spore began laughing in equal succession. The line had continued to move forward. It was finally Spore’s turn to select the portions of her meal.]

LUNCH LADY: Good afternoon and welcome to Black Wick Cafeteria. Today’s specials are pizza and fish and shrimp. Today’s sides are coleslaw, biscuits and baked beans with your choice of cocktail or tartar sauce. What would you like?

SPORE: Um… I guess I will take the fish and shrimp with a side of baked beans and cocktail sauce and tartar sauce.

LUNCH LADY: That will be six dollars.

SPORE: That’s fine. You want anything Do? Lunch is on me today.

DO: Yes, I think I’ll have the same thing you are having.

SPORE: Alright then. Excuse me miss but could you add a duplicate order for my buddy Do here.

[The lunch lady nodded and began preparing Do’s order.]

DO: Thank you so much, Spore. I appreciate this more than you know.

SPORE: No problem.

[Spore smiled at Do. As Spore and Do were departing from the lunch line they heard a string of insults follow them as they were searching for a table.]




TABLE #1: Continuez à marcher baiseur. Vous n'êtes pas le bienvenu ici!

TABLE #2: C'est le tableau est réservé pour la belle et que l'intellectuel. Vous êtes trop stupide pour être considéré comme l'un de nous!

TABLE #3: Ahem! Excusez-moi, mais je n'arrive pas à reconnaître le potentiel de développement de la beauté ou de la popularité en vous. S'il vous plaît revenir quand ce jour est arrivé. Merci.


SPORE: Pay them no mind, Do. Just keep walking.


[Spore softly grabs Do’s hand as they are walking.]

WIFI: Hey look guys! Spore’s got a boyfriend.

WIFI’S TABLE: Oooooohhhhhh!!!!!!!

[All of the patients at that were sitting with Wifi began to mock Spore with several fake smooches and hugs. Spore blushed.]

SPORE: You see this is exactly why we never worked out WiFi. You were always so self-centered, narcissistic and desperate. No matter what we said, did or where we went it was always about you.

[Wifi got up and stood in front of the table behind him as he spread his arms out. WiFi had long, wavy, red hair with hazel eyes, and pearly white skin. He wore a black leather jacket with denim blue jeans and leather black boots.]

WIFI: Do you even realize how stupid you sound right now? If it was truly all about me we would have never dated. Think about what you are saying before you speak.

[Spore blushed again.]

SPORE: Yeah well…. Even then still it was about you.

[Spore gently wiped the tears that were streaming from her face. Her nose had turned bright red in response.]

WIFI: Eh what does it matter now? We’re not together anymore so we are wasting our time talking to each other. I’m trying to eat lunch and chill with my peeps. Beat it.

SPORE: *******, Wifi! I am leaving on my own terms not yours!

[WiFi balled his fists as he got up and began running at a speed believed to be faster than Superman. He was about to hit Spore but Do stepped in his way and blocked his punch.]

DO: You will not hit her or you will suffer the consequences.

WIFI: And what if I do? What are you gonna do? Punch me in the face? Are you gonna kick me in the *****? Ha ha I am used to that. Learn some new tricks and then we’ll talk okay. Now move out of my way.

[Spore screamed very loudly as WiFi tried to take another swing at her. Do blocked WiFi’s punch yet again only this time taking his arm and lowering his head as he slid under it. He then stood in the same position as WiFi while still holding his arm and began ramming his right elbow deep into his his nose breaking it upon immediate contact. Do then took WiFi’s wrist and arm and twisted them until they snapped breaking both areas of his arm instantly. He then picked WiFi up and slammed his rib cage directly on his knee and let him drop to the hard, marble floor.]

SPORE: Do stop! That’s enough!

[Spore was crying again as she stood there in shock. Everyone was watching. WiFi was laying across the floor in a fetal position with a small puddle of blood leaking from his broken nose. His eyes were barely open.]

WIFI: Ugh… Ugghh...

SPORE: Come on, Do. We’ll eat lunch outside.

DO: I think that would be a good idea.

SPORE: You and me both.

[Do and Spore grabbed their lunch trays and walked outside. It was sunny and the trees were still without leaves as it was still winter. The breeze was very cold. A musically digital sound began playing in the background. It was Spore’s cell phone.]

SPORE: Oh, and I just got a text from my friends of whom I’d love for you to meet. They want us to come and sit with them.

DO: Alright, I’m down. Where are they sitting?

[A girl with bubblegum pink hair was waving at Spore with a smile on her face.]

SPORE: They are sitting right over there against the brick wall.

DO: Ok then let’s go.

[Do and Spore walk over to the table where Spore’s friends were sitting. They arrive at the table and set their trays down as they took a seat.]

SPORE: Hey guys I have someone that I would like you to meet. Gum and Sweat meet Do. Do meet Gum and Sweat.

GUM: Hello, Do. It is a pleasure to meet you.

SWEAT: Sup Do? Glad to have you.

[Do shook both Gum and Sweat’s hands.]

DO: Hey. It is very nice to meet the two of you. Thank you for introducing me, Spore.

SPORE: No problem.

[Spore smiled once again.]

DO: So how did the three of you meet?

SPORE: Well, first of all I arrived at Black Wick on November 2, 2013. I met Gum later that evening as we were assigned as roommates. It wasn’t until about a week later that I met Sweat. He was fencing when we met and he finished then took off his fencing mask to greet me.

SWEAT: Ha ha yeah, I remember that. Those were some pretty memorable days eh?

GUM: Indeed they were.

DO: Where are you from Gum?

GUM: Oh, I’m from Oklahoma but I was living in Las Vegas, Nevada before I got here. Let me tell you I got into lots of mischief during that time. The parties were crazy and the night clubs were always packed. I hooked up with numerous guys and girls. I even did coke and **** do I regret that. I am never doing that ever again, but drinking is acceptable.

DO: How about you Sweat? Where are you from?

SWEAT: Oh, I’m from Memphis, TN but I was living in Cordova before being dumped in this hellhole.

DO: Dude no way! I live in Cordova too.

SWEAT: Really bro? That’s dope.

DO: I know right! So Spore who was that guy who was harassing you in the cafeteria?

SPORE: Oh yeah I almost forgot about that. The guy’s name is Willard Fike but everyone calls him WiFi due to his extensive computer programming and networking skills. He even knows how to build and send viruses to computers. Me and WiFi used to date which was long before the two of us ever ended up in here. One day we got into a very heated argument.

[The scene flashes to a black and white filtered memory. Spore and WiFi are standing in the middle of a living room arguing really loudly.]

SPORE: So you think it is ok to mug someone late at night as they are walking home?! What if somebody had saw you?! Do you have any idea what happened?!

WIFI: Look I don’t give a **** alright! I don’t have a job! I needed money! What the **** did you expect me to do?! Huh???!!! Answer me!!!!!!!

SPORE: You could try checking the job ads in the paper. You could try job searching within the city. There is no valid enough excuse as to why you mugged that innocent pedestrian.

WIFI: Well I don’t like being broke you can ride with me or you can go and **** yourself. Pick one!

SPORE: If money is important enough to sacrifice your dignity then perhaps you are better off broke because you deserve a dime and you sure as hell won’t be receiving a cent from me.

[WiFi one-two punched Spore deeply in her stomach and then punched her squarely in the eye before delivering an uppercut. Spore was laying on the floor crying as WiFi began searching the room for cash.]

SPORE: WE ARE OVER! DO YOU HEAR ME????!!!!! OVER!!!!!!!

WIFI: I DON’T GIVE A ****!!!!!

[WiFi begins searching around the room for cash. He searches for about 5 minutes before settling on a sum of $500 of which he found in Spore’s mother’s purse. Spore picked up her cell phone and attempted to the call the kkkkkpolice when  WiFi suddenly placed  a pistol to her temple and pulled back the trigger.]

WIFI: I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Put the **** phone down now before I **** you.

[Spore did as she was told and dropped the phone. WiFi took the phone and threw it into the fish tank behind him.]

WIFI: Now you won’t ever be able to make calls to anyone.

SPORE: You know you are never going to get away with this.

WIFI: Technically, I already have. The question is who is going to stop me?

[WiFi left right after he asked that question slamming the door hard as he walked out.]

[The scene flashes back to the present.]

SPORE: I never was the same after that night.

DO: And he got away just like that?

SPORE: Well word got around fast and the cops caught up with him two days later following a string of police reports. I filed the day following the event so I guess you could say that I set it off.

SWEAT: Still, that’s sad though.

SPORE: I know and as Do and I were looking for a place to sit, a bunch of patients started hurling random insults at us in French and that was when I came across WiFi. Him and his buddies were mocking us and saying that we were a couple when that couldn’t be further than the truth.

DO: You say that almost as if you are ashamed of me, ha ha.

SPORE: I’m sorry, Do. You know that’s not what I meant.

DO: Yeah, I know.

[Spore gives Do a hug.]

SPORE: How do you feel now?

DO: Better.

SPORE: Anyway me and WiFi got into another argument while in the cafeteria and he tried to run up and attack me. Luckily Do was there to protect me. He basically ****** WiFi up. I seriously wanted to laugh at how much of a ***** Do made him look. The guy was lying across the floor in a fetal position whining. I couldn’t have asked for a better picture.

[The four them laughed together in equal succession. Another loud noise overlapped their laughter from behind the wall. It was the sound of two voices moaning. Both of the voices were female.

GUM: What was that?

SPORE: I have no idea.

SWEAT: Don’t know. Don’t care bro.

DO: I think I’ll go and have a look just to see what’s going on.

[The moaning continued and became increasingly louder as Do walked around the edge of the wall and behind it. He found two Caucasian girls completely half naked. Both girls were laying across the grass in the sixty-nine position eating each other out.]

DO: This is going to be fun.

[Do chuckled and smiled as his ******* grew.]

Has not enough been said
About Cecil, the Lion?

This has brought me to tears.

For those who don't know
Cecil lived in a Wild Life park
In Zimbabwe.
There was no hunting allowed

So, some sick *******
Who is a big game hunter
Dragged a antelope carcass
So that Cecil would
Come out of the park.

He, then, shot Cecil
With an arrow
And Cecil was tortured
Over forty hours.

Cecil was tracked down,
He was shot with a gun,
He was decapitated,
He was skinned.

How is it that
What is so magnificent
As a Lion
Is seen as nothing
But a head and skin
To decorate your living room?

I've been to Kenya
And Tanzania.
They are glorious creatures
In the wild.
Why not just take a photo?
Or just enjoy their magnificence
And then leave
With your enhanced soul?

They say psychopaths
Practice on animals first

This sick pathology
Has to end, not only for
Animals but humans well.
This man had a felony conviction
For baiting black bears.
He belongs in prison
Although many think
He should be decapitated
As well.
People are angry.

And Cecil's Cubs?
I used to watch a show
Called:
"Big Cat Diaries"
And their fate is sealed
As well.

Lions practice infanticide
And when a new male
Comes to Cecil's pride
He will **** all of Cecil's offspring
To make their mothers
Go into estrus
So they can breed.

One cub has been killed
And not much hope for
The other eight.

Our neighbors bait
Black bears, **** them,
Skin them, stuff them
And put them in their house.

They seem to just enjoy
Killing things for no reason
They find great joy
In killing things.

They seem like
Nice enough people
But when you have
So little respect for Life
Can't it haunt
Your human ties?

I honestly feel
Like someone
Has shot my dog.

And it makes me weep,
Though the story
Is now old.

This man should
Go to prison,
And in Zimbabwe.
Send the world
A huge message
That we are not Neanderthals
We don't have to
To **** things
Out of sheer joy.

We should not reduce
Living things to
Heads and hides.

This morning a great big pile of ******* occupies the road in front of your building,
Powdered wigs and hand grenades,
The remains of a slaughter the night before.
All the medicine, text books, car keys, credit cards, shoes, head phones, computer chips, DVDs, chairs and trucks.
A smoldering heap of help from friends in factories.
None of it had been spared during the death of civilization.
Still they pile it.
Your neighbors and parents and friends.
They’ve been convinced that these things are evil.
They will force solitude upon all of us.
They will make us vulnerable and frail as though naked in the night.
They will prove to us that we did not know what it was to be alone.

Standing atop the pile their god is yelling:
“We must sacrifice for the good of life!
We must destroy for the good of creation!
We create ignorance for the sake of realization!
We incite suffering for the good of happiness!.”

Left alone we must grovel at the foot of our fallen god,
Mourning a murdered child.
Crying out for fairness and LAW.
Systems and sciences.
All lay at the very center of the mound.
The head of a rotten body,
Decapitated without mercy by those who had been deceived by it.

Death and darkness come next,
Creeping as wolves do where we fear them most.

I can’t tell you what comes next,
But you must not trust those who began the revolution.
They have abandoned you to your own devices.
Left you naked in the shadow of the mound.

Standing upon a hill, I.
Under black & purple sunwheel.
Standing with sword in right hand, representing morality and righteousness.
Standing with mine own decapitated head in left hand, represting violent and sudden removal of Ego &&& it's prompt reclaimation.
Standing soaked in the blood of the wound as my sacramental rebirth offering and cleansing.
My own next level of Apotheosis.
Kept alive by sheer will & & & magicks.

Headless mystic standing akin to an Autosacrifical Kali Ma.

Standing as Ego.

Standing as Godhead.

I.A.O.

Standing as Headless Warrior.

Omnia et Nihil.

I am become The Other, the Ritual Evolution.
Hail.

CONGRATULATIONS
give me decapitated heads,this is my prize(everyone is out to get me)
dont throw away the axe, it's yours
(STOP SCREAMING ITS ALL IN YOUR HEAD YOU ******* COWARD LOOK AT WHAT YOUVE DONE)
everyone in the world is screaming right now
yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault
come on,******* **** me
CONGRATULATIONS**
and im dead by tomorrow night

I get off the Belt Parkway at Rockaway Boulevard and
Jet aloft from Idyllwild.
(I know, now called J.F. ******* K!)
Aboard a TWA 747 to what was then British East Africa,
Then overland by train to Baroness Blixen’s Nairobi farm . . .
You know the one at the foot of the Ngong Hills.
I lease space in Karen’s African dreams,
Caressing her long white giraffe nape,
That exquisite Streep jugular.
I am a ghost in Meryl’s evil petting zoo:
I haunt the hand that feeds me.

Safely back in Denmark, I receive treatment
For my third bout with syphilis at Copenhagen General.
Cured at last, I return to Kenya and Karen.
In my solitude or sleep, I go with her,
One hundred miles north of the Equator,
Arriving at Julia Child’s marijuana herb garden–
Originally Kikuyu Land, of course—
But mine now by imperial design &
California voter referendum.
(Voiceover) "I had a farm in Africa
At the foot of the Ngong Hills."
My farm lies high above the sea at 6,000 feet.
By daybreak I feel oh, oh so high up,
Near to the sun on early mornings.
Evenings so limpid and restful;
Nights oh, so cold.
Mille Grazie a lei, Signore *******!
Andiamo, Sydney, amico mio.
Let it flow like the water that lives in Mombasa.
Let it flow like Kurt Luedtke’s liquid crystal script.
We zoom in. We go close in. Going close up,
On the face of Isak Dinesen’s household
Servant and general factotum. (Full camera ******)
Karen Blixen’s devoted Muslim manservant,
Farah: “God is happy, msabu. He plays with us…”
He plays with me.  And who shall I be today?
How about Tony Manero for starters?
Good choice. Nicely done!
Geezer Manero:  old and bitter now,
Still working at the hardware store,
Twice-divorced, a chain-smoker,
Severely diabetic, a drunk on dialysis 3 times a week.
Bite me, Pop:  I never thought I was John Travolta.
But, hey, I had my shot:  “I coulda been a contenda.”
Once more, by association only,
I am a great artist again, quickly made
Near great by a simple second look.
Why, oh God? I am kvetching again.
I celebrate myself and sing the
L-on-forehead loser’s lament:
Why implant the desire and then
Withhold from me the talent?
“I wrote 30 ******* operas,”
I hear Salieri’s demented cackle.
“I will speak for you, Wolfie Babaloo;
I speak for all mediocrities.
I am their champion, their patron saint.”

Must I wind up in the same
Viennese loony bin with Antonio?
Note to self:  GTF out of Austria post-haste!
I’ve been called on the Emperor’s carpet again,
My head, my decapitated Prufrock noodle,
Grown slightly bald, brought in upon a platter.
Are peaches in season?
Do I dare eat one?
I am Amadeus, ******, infantile,
An irresistible iconoclast and clown.
Wolfie:   “I am called on the imperial carpet again.
The Emperor may have no clothes but he’s got a
Shitload of ******* carpets."
Hello Girls: ‘Disco Tampons!
Staying inside, staying inside!
Wolfie: "Why have I chosen a ****** farce for my libretto?
Surely there are more elevated themes . . . NO!
I am fed to the teeth with elevated themes,
People so lofty they **** marble!"
Confutatis maledictis,
Flammis acribus addictis.

So, I mix paint in the hardware store by day.
I dance all night, near-great again by locomotion.
Join me in at least one of my verifiable nine lives.
Go with me across the Narrows,
Back to Lenape with the wild red men of Canarsee,
To Vlacke Bos, Boswijk & Nieuw Utrecht,
To Dutch treat Breuckelen, Red Hook & Bensonhurst,
To Bay Ridge and the Sheepshead.
Come with me to Coney Island’s Steeplechase & Luna Park, &
Dreamland (aka Brownsville) East New York, County of Kings.
If I’m lying, I’m dying.
And while we’re on the subject now,
Bwana Finch Hatton (pronounced FINCH HATTON),
Why not turn your focus to the rival for Karen’s heart,
To the guy who nursed her through the syphilis,
That old taciturn ******, Guru Farah?
Righto and Cheerio, Mr. Finch Hatton,
Denys George of that surname—
Why not visualize Imam Farah?
Farah: a Twisted Sister Mary Ignatius,
Explaining it all to your likes-the-dark-meat
Friend and ivory-trading business partner,
Berkeley (pronounced BARK-LEE) Cole.
Can you dig it, Travolta?
I knew that you could!

Oh yeah, Tony Manero, the Bee Gees & me,
A marriage made in Brooklyn.
The Gibbs providing the sound track while
I took care of the local action.
I got more *** than a toilet seat, a Don Juan rep &
THE CLAP on more than one occasion.
Probably from a toilet seat.
Even my big brother–the failed priest,
Celibate too long and desperate now–
Even my defrocked, blue-balled brother,
Frankie, cashing in his chips at the Archdiocese,
Taking soave lessons from yours truly,
Taking notes, copying my slick moves with chicks.
It was the usual story with the usual suspects &
The usual character tests. All of which I flunk.
I choose Fitzgerald's “vast, ****** meretricious beauty,”
My jumpstart to the middle class.
I spurn the neighborhood puttana,
Mary Catherine Delvecchio: the community ****
With the proverbial heart of gold &
A backpack full of self-esteem deficits.
I opt out.  I’m hungry and leaping.
I morph again, grab *** the golden girl.
Now I’m Gatsby in a white suit,
Stalking Daisy Buchanan in East Egg,
Daisy: her voice full of money;
My green light flashing on the disco dance floor.
I, a fool for love; she, my faithless uptown girl,
Golden and delicious like the apple,
Capricious like a blue Persian cat.
My “orgiastic future” eluded me then.
It eludes me still. Time to go home again to the place
****-ant Prufrocks ponder their pathetic dying embers.
Time to assume the position:
Gazing out from some trapezoidal patch of green
At the foot of Roebling’s bridge,
Contemplating an alternative reality for myself,
A new life across the East River,
In the city that never sleeps.
I crave. I lust. I am a guinzo Eva Duarte.
I too must be a part of B.A., Buenos Aires:
THE BIG APPLE.
But I am ashamed of my luggage,
Not to mention my baggage.
It’s like that last thing Holden Caulfield said to me,
Just before he crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge,
Crossed over to Manhattan without me,
Leaving me alone again, searching for our kid sister,
Phoebe, the only one on earth we can relate to:
“It’s really hard to be roommates with people
If your suitcases are much better than theirs.”
Ow! That stung; that was a stinger.
I am smithereened by a self-guided drone,
A smart bomb full of snide antigravity,
Transformational and caustic.
My meager allotment of self-esteem
Metastasizes into something base,
Something heavy and vile.
I drop to earth like lead mozzarella.

I am unworthy, unworthy in the maximum mendicant,
Roman Catholic mea culpa sense of the word.
I am now Umberto Eco’s penitenziagite.
I am Salvatore, a demented hunchback
(Played flawlessly as a demented hunchback by Ron Perlman),
Spewing linguistic gibberish in a variety of vernaculars:
“Lord, I am not worthy to live anywhere west of the Gowanus Canal.”
By East River waters I weep bitter tears,
The promise of a promised land denied.
I am a garlic-eating Chuck Yeager,
Auguring in, burnt beyond recognition,
An ethnic trope, a defiant Private Maggio
From here and for eternity,
Forever a swarthy ethnic stereotype
Trying to escape thru a small but significant
Hole in the ozone layer above South Ozone Park,
New York, zip code 11420.
That’s right, Ozone Park.
If you don’t believe me, look it up.
GO ******* GOOGLE IT!

And I just don’t know when to quit.
So why quit there?
Work with me, fratello mio, mon lecteur.
Like you, I took the LSAT so long ago.
Why am I not a distinguished American jurist
Asking the one question that seems to be on
Everyone’s eugenic lips today:
“Aren’t three generations of imbeciles enough?”
I am Charly from Flowers for Algernon,
A slow learner with a push broom, swept up in
Some dust from Leonard Cohen’s cuff.
Lenny: a grey-beard loon himself now, singing
“Hallelujah” for fish & chips in London’s O2 Arena.
“Suzanne takes you down, Babaloo!”
At last, I am Jesus Quintana—
John Turturro stealing the movie as usual--
This time in a hair net and a jumpsuit,
"Made of a comfortable 65% polyester/35%
Cotton poplin, you can even add your own
Ribbon leg trim and monogramming
For just the right look to be one of
The Big Lebowski’s favorite characters.
Mouse-over the thumbnail below to see our actual style
(Color must be purple). Style #: 98P, Price: $55.95. On sale: $50.36.www.myjumpsuit.com."
Fortunately, I am a savvy marketeer:
I understand the artistic potential, the venal
Possibilities of product placement. Go with me
To that undiscovered country.
The humanities uncorrupted till now by
Crass gimcrack television ads. That’s right:
******* commercials smack dab in the
Middle of a ******* poem. Why not?
Great literature has always been about
Selling something, even if only an idea.
Hey, **** me, Herman Melville!
We both know the publication costs of
Moby **** were underwritten by the tattoo artists &
Harpoon manufacturers of New Bedford,
Matched by a small research grant from some
Proto-Greenpeace, Poseidon adventure in some
Great white whale-watching swinging soiree.
Murray the ******* K, pendejo!
At last, I am The Jesus, a pervert & pederast,
According to Walter Sobjak—another post-traumatic
Post Toasty, like me, still out there in the jungle,
Still in love with the smell of ****** in the morning.
My bowling buddy, Walter, comfortably far to the right of
The Dude, and Attila the *** for that matter,
But who gives a **** if Lenin was The Walrus?
(“Shut the **** up, Buscemi!”)
“Once you hang a right at Hubert Humphrey,”
Said the streets of 1968 Chicago,
"It’s all ******* fascism anyway.”
That creep could roll, though, and as we know so well:
“Nobody ***** with The Jesus.”
Can you dig it, Travolta?
I knew that you could!

INCOMING!
I just heard from an old girlfriend who is miles away,
Teaching school in Navajo Land.
The Big Rez:  a long day’s interstate katzenjammer,
A Route 66 nightmare by car, but by email,
Just down the block and round the corner.
I had previously closed an email to her with a frivolous
“Say hello to my stinky friend.”
It was a total non-sequitur, an iconic-moronic,
Ace Ventura-mutant line from Scarface,
Which may have meant–in my herbal lunch delirium—
That she should say hi to some mutual acquaintance
We mutually loathe, Or, perhaps an acknowledgement that she–
My surrogate Cameron Diaz–has a new **** buddy,
Of whom I am insanely jealous.
Or maybe it was a simple Seinfeld “about nothing.”
Who knows what goes on in that twisted *****’s head?
She spends the next two hours in a flood of funk,
A deluge of insecurity.
A veritable Katrina ****** of self-consciousness,
Interpreting my inane nonsense in terms of vaginal health.

Hey, you want to ruin a woman’s day?
Tell her, her **** smells.

Were you alive when the
bricks began to crumble
beneath our hand-held, picket line
across the parking lot in front of some
school that no one bothered to name?

Our exhaustion-mumbled whispers
skipping across lips dropping to the street
that tapered ladders on gargantuan gadflies as the summer heat
etched the tear lines into mud tracks against
our ruddied faces.

Cohorts torn into flip stands
layered toward standing political sores --
tell me how to cross my t’s and fill in scantron circles before
the suits step over brown-bag lunches
to stretch the yawning yellow tape over the students’ lockers.

We were strung up the flag pole, almost posted as decapitated heads for the public.
The political analysts call this “The biggest school closing in decades.”

Under teeming hammer-strikes :
glasses shred to paper-splinters
before a young boy’s diploma
crying white chalk bricks
from university’s doors instead on to
prison yard orange jumpsuits.

Can we call this a school improvement project
or can we call this the Same Salem Witch Hunt
As unwashed teachers and students alike deck the sidewalks like
Either Christmas decorations on Michigan Avenue or
Inmates on the gallows platform

I’m completely unable to read the television marquee that told the neighborhood that City Hall was too stuffed with paperwork to defend the mothers and invisible fathers.

I’m completely unable to write out of respect for these children’s already-carved in stone pathway to the gutter, graveyard, and/or prisons.

In the first wink of dawn
We will all scatter
To our respective positions
Carved out in concrete before the
barricades fall
to flood the street.