The galaxy's in turmoil, it's at an all time low
Luke Skywalker's been demoralised, all for comedic show
No substance for new character's, old heroes full of woe
What happened to the Star Wars, that we used to know

The Empire has been replaced, by the Order of the First
No real impact is achieved, we're not really that immersed
Screen presence is not felt, characterisations at its worst
The legacy of the Jedi, is downgraded and disbursed

Luke's a Jedi like his father, so why would he elope
The Disappointment of this film, is on a massive scope
Star Wars fans are ridiculed, their on a downward *****
Galactic empires did strike back, but after a new hope

Jedi knights a force for good, they wouldn't just give in
Princess Leia flying through space, well wasn't that a sin
The saga of the Skywalker's, pushed aside for Rey and Fin  
Don't bring back legacy character's, to throw them in the bin

Luke's too out of character, it doesn't make no sense
Strong villains do not exist , so there is no recompense
The shallowness of General Hux, a lack of real suspense
Kylo Ren's fake saber duel, this fight was far from tense

Evil rulers are no more what kind of name is Snoke?
He's hardly Emperor Palpatine, he's just a head scarred bloke
Like most of the new character's, well what a ******* joke
The menace of the sith is lost, Since the force awoke

Wooden character's we don't want, I know this may sound mean
Kathleen Kennedy please keep away, from the Star Wars scene
We don't want Holdo, Rose and Poe, clogging up the screen
Admiral Ackbar was killed off, and it wasn't even seen

Rian Johnson's head is round, he looks like BB8
Unfortunately his movies ****, and his stories are not great
Redemption for true Jedi knights, I know it's not too late
A Jedi Master Ivan is,  The Last Jedi's futures fate

This is our most desperate hour, after the cinemas first screening
Ivan your our only hope, the Star Wars fans are screaming
No true fan is amused, we wish that we where dreaming
"a gracious gift from god", is Ivan's first name meaning

Ivan Ortega is the man, he simply is the best
His flare for editing is supreme, he has film making zest
Unruly Star Wars script writers, he'll put them to the test
Movie making is his skill, Disney give it a rest

So come on now check Ivan out, on YouTube or Twitter
His vision of The Last Jedi, may stop you feeling bitter
Optimism flows like the force, because he is no quitter
He'll reunite the Star wars fans, instead of a film splitter

A dark time for the empire, with the Jedi in the mix
Dark side powers hasn't been seen, since Vader in part six
True Jedi Knights have not returned, nothing that really sticks
We need Jedi Master Luke, in Ivan's new Film Fix

Im not so religious but I came across a scripture from the bible of God that reads like this…

Romans 8:18

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.

Just few minutes later I saw a documentary about gangs in South Africa Cape Flats…
Bad hey demoralised community…

They were forced by the push and pull factors of life..

They classify themselves as third people in South Africa…

The leader of the most notorius gang “The American”
Believes in God….

Shocking I know…
To have a gun is a norm to them…
Kids dream to be the best gang LeaDer…

Their suffering only brought misunderstanding not freedom..
They made it worse by terrorising each other…

They are supposed to be inbetween since they are an origin breed of African and European mix…

They utter words that I. The apartheid regime they were the 3rd people…
Freedom days they are still the 3rd people…

One of a gang member who used to have unclear dreams of going to the sea and see the world “Funny enough the see is not far but he failed to purseu his dreams” any way he utter words like “Black people are rich now, white people are stil rich and colored are in jail…”
The Dude is outside but stil blaming it on the next person…

Laziness is a serious sickness….

My fellow sister out the don’t give up on dreams if you don’t get a rich husband…

My brothers its not your fault that you were born poor…

Privilege is not always given to the majority…
I’m an African in South Africa but white people always gets privilege of high employement opportunities…
Only because they are still dominant as executives…

We do have Africans at the high posts,  but hey most are just the acting face for public sake….

I may have problems but I don’t let them overcome me, for I know I have greater things that the lords have spared me to harvest for I my self have being given the permission by God Him self to live his way or my way….

The best gift of them all life for free from God…

I love to go walking, at least once a day
And see what I stumble across on my way
I can cover hills and valleys, forests and fields
To unearth what treasure the next stroll yields

Yesterday my amble took me a brand new way
Through an old wood with a black stream I did stray
I came across a boy with a face grimaced in concentration
A child in this ****** place, aroused my determination.

I said ‘Hey boy why are you so far from home?’
‘Please good sir you must leave me alone’
Then I noticed how tightly he clenched his fist
And knew he must have a treasure to add to my list.

I picked up the boy and grabbed his wrist
I shook it vigorously to open that fist,
Then I attacked his fingers and commenced to pry
From the boy not a whimper, a whisper or sigh.

‘Child I demand you open and reveal what’s in your hand’
‘There’s nothing sir not even a grain of sand’
The sheer cheek of the runt was simply astounding
I would open that paw if it meant giving him a pounding.

That’s just what I did, the boy got a seeing to
I slapped him and kicked him threatened to boil him in stew,
Swung him over my head and dashed him to the floor
No matter what manner of violence the scamp took more.

Exhausted and demoralised I screamed at the brat
‘Show me what you have and let that be that’
‘Please, it’s noting sir as I’ve said before
You can kick me and hit me and throw me to the floor’

Then I remembered, in my belt a small knife
I decided to cut off that mitt and end this strife,
Off at the wrist, open the fingers to look in the hand
The boy wasn’t lying, not even a grain of sand.

After all that effort and a day with no pleasure
I refused to feel down at the lack of treasure,
Next time you’re near to my house you must call
And I’ll show you the hand nailed firmly to the wall.

being in love
was never meant to be this hard
and the stains and scars
that taint my soul
were all laid to rest there
by you

and when I look into the stars
all I see
are the many ways you hurt
and demoralised me

but in saying I love you
would be all but the truth
because honestly dear
I can't stand even the thought of you

A-ware which my Profession affects, no doubt
Or Risk those Demoralised Bankers percieve
Perhaps a Warning which your Crown enspout
Dissolve my Tears since that Gun-Man's reprieve
Are all these your Receipts? Claims to your Stub
That which hampers my Earthed Reputation
My Mind - enwracked - make Alien to your Hub
All enjoy but your Ghost Computation
I can find no Faults; Save which I create
Then prove foulest Links as mortally mine
To leave you Pure; And pursue your Heart's Mate
Then kiss her Program for Sentiments fine.
Be as it may, such Sentiment can hurt
Yet still fine, for this Medicine convert.

'Like' is just word,
from a mutual perspective.
'Love' is instead, a feeling
Incomprehensible at times.

At times,
We feel that love should never happen
As it leads us down
The wretched hallway of pain.

True happiness lies in the correct doors we unlock.
For those who are scarred,
Afraid,
Demoralised,
Anguished at the past,
Not daring to take the steps.

Looking back at the past,
Mostly regretful
Totally.
Then comes the pain,confusion,
like the twisting mealstorm it swirls.

You make me Feel Proud,
Proud sometimes make us proud,and sometimes make us shameful sinner,
Live life without proud,
Take beloved ones care without proud,
Rise up in life with unconditional  love and faith,
Do not demoralised  other in your proud,
Be simple and sober in your life,
Stay away from proudyness ,trecherous minds and sinners,
Never forget yourself in deep proud,
Proud makes you away from your loved ones,
Mind it and stay away from it.

Devious deceitful dialogues
Decrepit desperate dithering
Detailed demonic deliveries
Disgusted demoralised dirges

Languidly loving longings
Lustful liberated labido
Lavacious liquidity laudable
Legendary loyalty lengthens

Let the bland world steer you
Through the mundane motions,
Ambivalent.

Logic is silenced.
Sympathy ignored.
The vacancy within
Is dimly lit,
Desolate and cold.

Continue on
Demoralised
Paralysed.
Crippled by loss

I smiled as you walked by,
But I failed to catch your eye,
And so I waved instead,
But you ignored my hand,
How did it come to this?
I know you wanted space,
But an ocean is too far away.

What do you want from me,
My blood or just my tears?
I gave you all I had to give,
Now you won't let me live,
I'm dying in the rain,
That's falling down on me,
Leaving me with so much pain.

You can drift and you can dream,
And even walk across the sea,
You may even think of me,
As a distant memory,
But when I'm thinking of you,
My tears fill up my shoes,
As they drip down from my face.

We made a daisy chain,
But you crushed it in your hand,
You used to touch so soft,
But now you wear a ****** glove,
Your bitter words of hate,
Lead me to regret,
That I ever saw your face.

We used to love the breeze,
As it played among the trees,
But soon a storm blew up,
Now the wind blows through my heart,
It leaves me very cold,
It's demoralised my soul,
And I don't think I can go on.

These thoughts of suicide,
That infiltrate my mind,
I can put them down to you,
At least that's my excuse,
As I write my final note,
To let everybody know,
Just exactly what you've done.

May you live with your remorse,
May you never forgive yourself,
May you drown in your own guilt,
And feel the same cold in your soul,
The cold you left me with,
Straight from the arctic,
May it burn your heart with frost.

It's not that I hate you,
But it's so hard to forgive you,
While my heart bleeds on the bed,
A bed that we once shared,
In a way, I'm glad your gone,
So that I can be left alone,
To perform my suicidal thoughts.

a stupendous undertaking on the fore -
    a lyrical stronghold against the ebb of
forgetting -
       perhaps having exhausted memory
for a fire of arithmetic -
                  better still: a written english
    and a phonetic english...

                          bernard shaw's 1941
complaint: "it may interest you to learn
that your leading article contains 2,761 letters.
as these letters represent only 2,311 sounds,
450 of them are superfluous and could
have been saved had we a british alphabet."

- qestshen or question: qweshchun -
not out of reform but out of curiosity -
perhaps the reforms of
noah webster and american-english
e.g. an ax for an axe
         honor for honour
         theater for theatre:
        a potato for a potato:
       poe-tay-toe: toe-may-t'oh...

that there are already so many idiosyncrasies
in english: a per se rendition of
base and self-evident changes -

yet to have inherited latin and:
quiet frankly - done so little to it...
   after all: where are diacritical marks
in english?
                better still:
                  why bother keeping:
    ȷust so you know - ın that:
      to dıstınguısh from kazakh?

jacobus parcossius (jakub parkoszowic)
was no johannes huss (john huß)

it had to be such a humbling sunday
afternoon -
    that there was something to do
around the house and in the garden:
yet this pagn of historical guilt:
   antithesis of post-colonialism -
more of a lineage:
          god, as a people -
                       we didn't really do very
much -
              perhaps we were late...
inherited christianity in the 10th century
and with it the latin script...

what a large chunk of europe that could
be made into an estonian summary
of - it's sometimes no wonder the russians
and the germans would much prefer
to squeeze either side of this:
                                            ambivalence...
­
exile exile exile...
                that copernicus is still contested
as a german: what little we had we probably
have to have even less -
   overshadowed by galileo and...
the william burroughs mythos invocation
that the ancient egyptians had
a heliocentric model worked out...

   i guess that's appropriate: measuring
ambitions - to build a tomb to compete with
hills and minor mountains -
   unless of course: a man made three dimensional
Δelta was is and forever will be:
                     a life as an architectural necrophilia...

it's even stranger writing this in english
and not in: z wschodu (from the east)...
                                    in this post-colonial dynamics
i cannot share the same frivolity of
anyone moving into the anglophone domain
with writs of ownership -
        after all: how much of this tongue is mine...
and how much: will succumb to
some historical inheritance tax of blame...
or hindering pride -
             it's a question no native will ask -
or member of the commonwealth -
  
   long story short: the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth was sold off -
   a bit like alaska - but by bit...
   but it's not like england will be sold...
   sold to the "cossacks" of mayfair...
                           i have just come
to acknowledge an... irritation that's not:
itchy - a paranoia that's not persuasive:
a fledgling of purpose -

            beside the sadomasochism of
the "elders" and soviet-influenced globetrotters:
i'd appreciate summer holidays in
the highlands - then again:
what's not to like about Cornwall?

what's for me? a return to... glagolitic?
     Ⰸ ⰐⰖⰄⰟⰊ Ⰹ ⰆⰟⰊⰜⰉⰀ
     z nudy i życia
    (from boredom and life)
            
  rummanations in expanding this into
a mixture of cyrillic and greek?
hell! if some of these letters were borrowed
from coptic, hebrew...
                  let's try some armenian!

սկորո տակ...           ի տեն ճաս
skoro tak...        i ten czas
(if so...                and this time)

mesrop mashtots gave the 5th century: ե
how else to imagine time:
when - there was a time one could
add something so profound -
that couldn't possibly be a lightbulb...

so here i am... dragged into the worst
of the use of english: should it become impressively
justifiable: i'm here talking about
letters and elsewhere: backed by year 0
a debate concerning:
cinnamon, paprika, ground cumin,
ground cinnamon,
cacao powder, himalayan salt, etc.

no wonder there's a running theme of
being completely demoralised / dissuaded from
writing...
   i like thinking about post-racial brazil...
not that i'm eager to learn some port-of-geese...

                  ֆակտ: fakt - fact...
                     շկոդա - szkoda - it's a shame...
because it's an ambivalent remark:
            beside a purposive ill deed...
and it's not: wstyd - literally shame designated
a honour presupposition...

once boasting: the clarity of phonetic details -
an orthology of a language since:
there wasn't a time to delve into metaphysical
arguments - the letters were burning bright
and hardly illuminating:
having to apply geological-esque pressures
to the latin script:
   and come out with a caron:
                                unlike in english
                           a subscripted H lingering -
which is almost a very ******
aspect:
                        H|Z - "too many consonants"...
czasem | sometimes...
                    no use writing -
               there are clearly more decisive things
i can do to satisfy myself with today...
unless of course come evening
i'll bring some bourbon and act upon:
shamelessness...
                          perhaps then...

but for now... a preserved mesmerisation...
perhaps out of the fact of simply being born
into these letters:
   they look like they ought to sound...
    that lip reading is possible...
   is probably because R - well the old R
with a trill does look little an omicron
with a leg forward or rolling down a hill...
  P does revel in a mouth with lips that pop...
P does indeed POP...
                  U and YEW...
    and why why I
                                        kept: T's on the tIP
of my tONGUE...
                      G has gloating about goo
and glue... X does mark the 'ks...
                      most certainly fAR Far away...
for F and what if not the threatening philosophy...

****** good luck... a teasing joy
that will Be nonexistent upon the ******
of a full-stop.

I'm sorry
That I let the pain
Twist me into someone new
Someone wrung out and tired
Wary hearted
Using distance as protection
But I was once fooled
For my love was turned into a social scandal
Mocked
And demoralised
Desires turned into
Whispered taboos
My devotion
Became a mark of shame
My trust
A sign of weakness
Everything I was became a story of pity
So I blamed myself
Changed myself
Became as cold as the heart he gave me

Unable to stand up to their self-righteous accusers
Who often become their torturers and abusers?
They feel demoralised so blame themselves
And will never seek or ask for help

Always told they’re in the wrong
They’re forced to believe they don’t belong
With no more self-respect or hope
They feel they’ve reached the end of the rope

Self-preservation is their only escape
No longer wanting to communicate
Now riddled with fear, guilt, and self-doubt
For them there is no easy way out

To avoid the gaze of people they know
They hide away and try to lie low
With no-one to tell and nowhere to hide
They try not to think of suicide

Eventually alone, living on the street
Frightened, tired, and dead on their feet
People walk by, while others just stare
But the victim’s too weak and hungry to care

Others just try to move them on
They look unsightly so want them gone
Morons set out to offend them for fun
By attacking them and calling them ****

They accept the crap that’s thrown their way
Just trying to make it through another long day
Being cold and homeless was never their crime
They were just in a bad place at the wrong time