you're my oxygen
I can't breathe without you

you're my brain
I won't function without you

you're my blood
my body can't circulate without you

together we form a team:

so memorable
so inseparable
so impeccable

never degradable
never unacceptable

always unforgettable
always immeasurable

no one can ever calculate us

even though some might crave us

-o.h

This is a subcultural song

Free energy efficient enthusiasts
Replaced the iroquois punk style
Alternatives, noisy *******; ear
Damaging drum bass boxes in da
Clubs. Ravishing rave parties in
Mini skirts, glam glossy brass on
Ecstatic strobe-light synthesis - a
Synthetic mainstream paradise
Submerged to hypnotic sucklings
On the colourful plastic pacifiers
A gummy retreat before waterless
Collaps. A dehidrated dream that
Tried to shut the world off by the
Tendrils of regression resemblance.
Adult babies aboard going back to
The false long forgotten innocence.

There is no subculture in being above
The depth. Superficiality seems a posh
Pose and a good hiding reason for socially
Awkward childish rebels without material
Issues. The sore tissue of contemporary art
Is people don't believe in subjective objective
Selves anymore. What authorities put on the
Shelves there - it has to be good-when on the
Real deal discount. You think im not of such
Kind. Sheepishly blindfolded herd lives some-
where else. I pity them. Mock the socially meek,
Unajust, fat, poor or a greek profile. It has to be
A button hot child candy nose to **** her or to
Call a beauty per se. Per american dream team.

***** are hot untill they have pneumatics, man
Are man if they whirl the banknotes under bank
Accounts. ******* act like man in disguise greedy
For more. I inhabitated all this inherently ugly
Preachy words instead of puking into a labdab
Lavatory and cleanse myself from repulsively
****** cultural intermittent artifacts. And how
Can i not subdue to its overwhelming pressure.
I'm just an indigo child of flower children. Don't
Throw me the bones fueled with the black golden
Marrow. I'm a new alternative peasant, growing
Carrots and celery at bio degradable villages. . .
Its not a contra cultural venture if your socks
Are made out of industrial cannabis, and yet
There's no need to. Think. Love. Play music.
Listen. Breathe. Live life as if yours favourite
subcultural song is repetedly on...going along

If your poor like me,
Your flesh is gonna be burned
And added to the pollution problem,
And our smoke will rise
And be added with said skies,
Should I romanticise
Your body's burning a bit?
OK:
You shall join former skies
Like a mist of your essense,
Your embers will burn forever
Until they fall back from the waves
Of winds that have carried those before
You, and those that have yet
To join you.

And if you have enough money
Your get a proper burial
And get seen by many people you
Really weren't close to any more,
Those who already became cadavers
Long ago in your heart,
They walk with other corpses
That never penetrated your true self.
      And $5000 in a plot of dirt,
Your picture on a slab of marble,
     A song sung awkward by some
Niece or nephew,
Tears for the day,
And your body cannot rejoin the
Earth because the coffin
Isnt bio degradable.

Its just your body,
But the soul is finally free
From the riff raff of the flesh.

A   suitcase
  was  drinking
cold drinks
by   using  a  bio  degradable
straw  not
taking  times
200 years  to
   compost.




The  human  baby  was
actually  drinking  it
inside  a  smart
suitcase.





That  baby   is
gene  edited    baby
who   can  drink
cold  drinks
in  one  months  also.


That  suitcase  was
following    her  mother
by   artificial  intelligence  
and  small  camera.



That  mother  was
a half  robot  and
half  human   being.

you get kind of planted
six feet downward
in a degradable box

Dear mate
Do not make the mistake
of rating yourself as being irreplaceable

Remember,
humans' thoughts,
Their words,
Their love,
is still changeable

And your affection
your compassion,
your love...
in their heart... tends to be degradable

One Day Soon,

when it is time to change
the page on your calendar,
not only, because it is the
end of the month, or year,

but perhaps, the image
was not to your liking!

One day soon, you will not
need to be reminded of the
season. (by a photograph).

One day soon, the day
won’t matter either.

One day soon, is too late,
because the past is not bio-
degradable and its disposal
is a proven impossibility!