That kid you make fun of with a mental disorder
Has all the maps laid out
Waiting to see how life plays out
You keep laughing
Because your life will be a comedy when people laugh and point at you when you make a mistake
And you turn around to see nobody stand up for you
Yeah, it's hilarious isn't it?
You never know
Stephen Hawking made the world listen
Some of the most gifted are the the most disadvantaged
Our greatest gifts are the words of support and refusal to make demeaning behavior

Kaitelka; Whale Mongolic down, first whale which said syndrome, evidenced by their presence, as didgeridoo, as spitting but more hypersonic, hyper cetacean moving his tail, Burguete funds, learned to swim faster than anything, but the Nautilus, not He paid attention to his mother in his care skills, but bad luck that can befall if not moderate their exalting and allergic omitted cases to obey.

So all blue, but little Kaitelka, seeking friendship among their peers, but he put  a tambourine limit gave him leftovers and liked more than a day a thousand years of perfect instincts. So step aside by the fire, and dodged the deafening roar of nymph Satinga; the most ancient senator of the headpiece, always full on its plateau of ******* hydrochloride that resistance, if they pass a thousand years and I do not understand these pairs, I adjusted my engine, but to no avail me, my instincts are diluted and slim as downpour edges left by the wayside in infants and solfa. That Jesus Light was said behind the screen rainbow arch, he takes her hand to Kaitelka, and back by the outer estuary, they attack by instinct ministry of evil.

Mildew petrified oaks, disorients the abject warty troughs the disordering of the genetic instinct, if I have to pause my essence, I leave in the hands of Joshua stone from beyond. Where the ticket is worth more to me, but I get the same. Where evil knows well, but tasteless well. Underground, underwater., Kaitelka take any more, wheels come and go, instinct taking shredding herbs near the sea, no longer separates me more. Bright the famous day that rebukes my dreams rather than a whole, plastering, or monument flash highborn of Mongolic loves whales, classless or inheritances acquired record. Kaitelka and in gratitude to accompany my walk, to the junction of Lisbon, walking from room to room, to begin the pilgrimage, his steps were Glup, Glup like a pretty varmint, over the hills she is beginning to the descritery of Satinga, or rather the descritery of Sapiens Hommo, rummaging instinct of love today, then unloved. Native forests make pairings, but separate links non-energy cataclysms, similar to the new alliance valley radial wave, tuned cetacean sonar power can be glimpsed.

The Ministry of Evil is no end to the retrospective marvel at Noe, Isaac or Abraham, or Luther King, is the delayed form of unsettled muscle primo Evo madding to neo Evo updated, and neither bells sound the same, as reboot gray phthisis diseases degenerate and synthetic. The instinct to put your hands into the fire will be lost ..., so more pace to the back of them cutting the seas in arithmetical divisions, if commend my antidepressants depressive relatives, caress the sea in each constipated solstice, I go every night with daisies in my hands defying every cliff, every cave turned into a tavern, killing instinct, when the brain is nothing, sprayed kerosene on stage, to see my beloved before he dies of a blowgun.  

Joshua Stone and Bernardolipus in a crossroad, spin the grazing, the black sheep, is barren, its classic label of Segregated debased soul, but defecated humanoid comment sing out of tune the territory themselves.  Three-step, three-way, Joshua embraces Bernardolipo. Welcome starts. Satinga you slice ferns and wild beast, vomits both diazepams swallowed, do not sleep, dreams transpose half orb. Halos, half halos, iridescent arcades, and warm breezes, must preamble Donated high liking. Soft and warm look, I do not lose my plate potato near my belly, warm adobe cellar. Nymph Satinga of reaction in reaction out of tune and the highlights midwife psoriasis for its reddish dermis by a fungus worming. The re instinct starts to chew his skull, dread end of the border. The cookies Lord is sending us on napkins.

Pre urbane figure born, they appear a hundred suns, so the crowd out who has the audacity to reveal the discrete enigma, the puzzle while the floor moves the seizure ... all stunned waiting for the flash Ritual to start the preliminary stage, the paradigm of unshelled trees, tough tables roll by the church at the foot of flowers crocuses scrolls flat estate. For the baptistery inscrutability warmth your network back double halo on the moon, scrub that level. Abyss where I fall near aspire to the coachman, I go away over time from heaven minute no second in hours where the avalanche of time lose my look to hold any deity that does not prevent the tendency to lose those not facing front, a day like this you do not walk any shadow, nor the Horcondising I would like to Santorini. The Borker wrongheaded, burning a cigar in rib Kaitelka, it provides a stunning scream as the end of the world, giving birth to the sky his beautiful breeding, as a good omen to present to the crowd in the Octagon and pleased transit day often fruity crestfallen fig.  

Adelimpia,  Strongly taken the and Thunder Aunt, washed in the backroom their aprons with Christmas, whose magical and enlightening sense, they were the Three Wise Princes, sons of the same kings of Israel. Sitting on some cobs, heritages from last wheel spikes. On warm evenings mantra Baba Nam Kevalam, I do not stay alone without others to see this magical high flood flow mention aversion in pontificates, necessary, pal meal with wine apocalyptic pale rider, Napoleonic soldier dethroned.

Thousands of hectares grassland in loving with heavenly muddy, as adhering to the force of Sorcery Camphor to move everything to the midnight launch eclipse. Thousands of hectares squirts do not possess any extension ratio, giddiness master eye, losing possession. What is Slice is Caren Lagoon, which is Alhué Village is Polulo mountain near the place, what Pichi of Barrancas... Out of my roles temple or regulators, as night plans still dating Jack, with overall equidistant to all orphan girl lost in the jungle inbenign . Cutting room of breath begins threshing., afar put the trays, and poor saint not to attend, this clever move, all atheists bruised, stiff and deprived of the worst failure smoothness, it´s the earth not plowed,                    
              
Dreams whistles hills ... Ghosts and spurs  ... Elegy opaque optical floors, all at Aunty Thunder dream the same...

If you can call night, inland sea waves have to educate infant’s tsunamis, they live among geological forces off the coast of scudding clouds of ... where she cuts through. Where our conscience, should play down a Machiavellian zero to roll it to the belly of the whale down. Their heavy udders milk, as long as a wild bird dueled, mounted in their beards, but the bird slips for his little body often and disadvantaged, to fall into the enzyme flash neuron meditatively; aspiring meditatively. While tsunamis grow, the mountains grow, decreases Hommo sapiens, conscience, he has left, minus zero exiled to the **** pony pens, to create their neighborhood over the eyes of a pupil of warty lameness. Reborn storm, stately power, Nymph Hetaira, who seduces the ringer smith, golden horseshoe, pal new millennium. His no longer harp, sewing lips ant, threading needles Grandma milking herbs get a grotto, families abandoned, shrill understatement by the echoes of the West, for you my Transients soliloquy turbid straightening of holistic aqueous molecules who want to sleep in my hands.

Good beverage, good consciousness nursery. Sleepily he walks by the barbed wire of stupid sort of busybody in thickness bolognese, or bandoneon, pilaster grandson male, to Vizcaya sailing or North Toscana, where after a barricade, Piedmont jumps to the south under Pichi.

They are falling water molecules on Maitén tree, or Tomato Adelimpia bow, and on the fibrous and head hair grass grandmamma Anna. Junks greet Bernardolipo, which was fishing with his wounded eyes, but the rub his mouth on the back of Kaitelka, calcium verve in carrousel turned. Line up the right hand, bottled lady Juana, he stretched to crush cilantro, but no ... or both...

Reigns for ?, to allocate a stop along the way, West Side Story Pichi. We are a few steps from misting dawn of propionate Stoics lash the oppressed people, clear water, singing  ... neuron in neuron, the cell last neuron, with the bow remained foul-mouthed, to shuffle, or Kawashkar Chilean Indian the slice of the leg, looking shoe children who roam the street without a blanket. They close their eyes, tears of shame. Here you are ecstatic stiffs arrows bows, feathers swaying in edgings shields tangled, hordes of haggard eyes flamed flames that no impudence and, which limp to a scoundrel that stuns resistant to fall on the sand. Show your dream, that dream bathe.

Continues the fierce Primor, falls brochures from red heaven fall prayers stammering to advance on this land saga, fall rustic donatives of grandmamma Mayor of coelum, Joshua insomniac in his tabernacle, defoliating his tome skip and jump down the estuary, before every misstep, holy water to step, a smile the Loica rural place Or a caress to the cheek moon in the arms of a blackbird, manacled to a rasp, stove teapot levitating top where grandmamma Adelimpia wheezes. Hail Mary ever ******, the other day, I heard that in September, flapping fall on Fiddler praise, perhaps mediate, for bad talking, founder of my undying love of life joined empty verbs on clovers where I to live forever, pre, pre paella prize moaning on my shoulder osteoarthritis crucifying collapsed tree. Nightmare builds a ship to reach Legion Mary. Centerfold, guns, howitzers, dissident’s ovaries ... final pages, declamatory winds ... perhaps agonizing leg expectantly... Or delusional feet of premature mortality, which brought pray to heaven, earth ... at soon I have to forget. The earth gives me the cheese, and bread sandwiching it goes...

Between him and earth coelum I doze my motive piece body, my shepherd Beetle Maximilian of Auschwitz sprayed me holy water the Vistula, I kneel down my hinges, and my hands for pray by pure attained effort, ***** great feat, who believes fall the abyss, and just below the earth tremulous, bell, first-throat yawning, loose cassock sounds a rainy morning, falling in the forest priority to see all morning, brimming with couplets of snow.

Continue to fall aqueous molecules, Kaitelka divides the estuary waters. Sheets of – Talami rural high lawns and wise water, South of  Pichi. Follow the dream, and just needed to uprighted the cabin, roaring gallop, wake up tomorrow morning sweaty dancing aqua, font of Lourdes, the four simultaneously open their headlights eyes, unblinking as echoes swimming duck feeding their young in the obsidian lagoon. Rock palafitte a piece of coal painted black each carriage serene, going from the Cantillana Mountain. Blasphemes morning fall roe bellowing wind annoyed tongue, windless striding through the window, thunderbirds mistress thousand flanks, now mount the besieged strands of colloidal solid. Elegy, opaque optical dreams, and drovers days nearsighted, soon saved our lives...

The never End.

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret,Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)
This essay is based on the observation research that had been carried out  by a social research firm in  Eldoret, Kenya, in the preceding six moths, which has been concluded on 30th January 2014.I the writer of this essay was among the lead team that carried out this study.We unobtrusively observed two thousand University graduates from east African states of Kenya,Uganda,Tanzania,Rwanda,Ethiopia,Sudan,and Burundi plus a few form some parts of Congo .Our target population of two thousand graduates was used under the guiding assumptions that it would help the study to arrive at water tight social conclusions.Our problem of focus was that ;why are male graduates in east Africa not marrying fellow graduates but instead go for marital partners who have substantially lower education qualification and even academic achievement.
The conditions of serendipity was also encountered and taken care of , when we also deviated from the natural social settings and charted with our digital social media friends who were approximately two thousand as well.They were digital social friends from Facebook and twitter digital social platforms. We  posted a thread in question form that ; if you were marrying today , would you marry a girl you graduated with the same year? Eighty percent of the responses to this thread was no , only twenty percent was yes.
The actual situations in an empirical experience is that male graduates prefer marrying ladies who stopped schooling in high school,and male high school or diploma college graduates prefer marrying ladies who don’t have clear high school education.And male primary school leavers prefer marrying ladies with inferior social positions like those who come from poorer families or from different tribal communities that are geographically, economically or culturally disadvantaged.
And in case where a male graduate dares to marry a fellow graduate , the dominantly observed social behaviour in this juncture is that ; the boy will go for the girl in a different school or faculty that is perceived to be inferior within the university academic climate.Like a student of medicine or law will go for a girl doing education or any University course perceived to be inferior.But the observation  produces insignificant cases of where a medicine student daring to marry a fellow medicine student.The minor cases of where a medicine student dares to marry a fellow medic will only take place in a social fabric that the male student at fifth year level will go for a girl in first year.Still there is a social tilt.
When we asked for reasons in a non-obtrusive manner from our unsuspecting respondents.We got both positive reasons and negative reasons.The positive reasons our respondents gave are that in most cases girls who don’t make it to the university happen to be more beautiful or their physique is more sexually appealling than those ladies who make it to the university.when we projected this type of reasoning , we also found that ladies who are in schools like education,journalism or any other school perceived  inferior in the cultures of the University are again more beautiful and more socially enticing than the girls doing University courses like law ,medicine or engineering.One of the respondents made a socially outlying remark by saying that girls at the polytechnic or certificate colleges are usually light in the skin,**** in character and blessed with big or pronounced bossoms than ladies at the university.
When we asked the negative reasons , our respondents argued that  ladies from the university are not controllable,neither are they prepared to be controlled come even the marriage. Further argument for these behaviour by male  graduates is that the University ladies are sexually exhausted,As they usually stay with a man in the hostel or in the cube during the four or the five years of their live at the University. Some even live with different men interchangeably, after which they divorce those many on the graduation day.Another response is that University ladies have a proclivity towards social hangout behaviours like smoking ,pinching or revving in the wine spree and loving the pocket but not the owner of the pocket.
This social phenomenon have imperative concerns that there is high level of genetic mismatch through marriages in east Africa or any other part of the world which east Africa can be socially generalizable to in such particular socialization.Graduate ladies are often forced to marry as second wives , or marry non graduate husbands or stay as a single mother but playing a mistress somewhere, a social behviour described as mpango wa kando or chips funga in the the east African Kiswahili parlance. Such social encounters have a long term consequences of fettering the genetic potential of the family in terms of  academics.When we conform to a warning by an eminent American psychologist that ; ninety percent of academic brilliance is contained in the genes but not influenced by environment we then obviously concur with the findings of this study that if a graduate marries a graduate there is a guarantee for academic performance among the offspring , but where a graduate marries  a non graduate ,  academic performance among the offspring is either mediocrous or probabilistic.The findings of this study also fall in technical tune and intellectual tandem with the observations of Lee Kuan Yeow in his book; From the third world to the first world in which he pointed out that; failure by the male graduates from  Universities in Singapore to marry the fellow female graduates was an impeachment to development as the ultimate consequence of these social behaviours is unnecessary inhibition of good genetics at a macroeconomic level.
The conclusive position of this study is that University leaderships in Africa, with a particular focus on east Africa, must inspire new University culture that has a turnaround effect on this behavioural status quo.The reality is that male graduates behave like this out of a dominance syndrome not out of anything technically worthwhile.Kindly , let our graduates change their marriage behaviour so that we can substantially protect our genetic advantages.

References;
Lee Kuan Yeow; From Third World to the First World
Alexander K  Opicho, is a social researcher at Sanctuary Research agencies in Eldoret, Kenya.He is also a lecturer  for Research Methods in Governance.

My poems are my children, more or less.
I care about them, want them to go far,
would like the world to love them as they are.
Or would it help if I could maybe dress
them in fancy words, improve their accent? Yes,
though a judicious measure of sobriety
might give my work commendable variety.
Alas, they're disadvantaged from the start,
these single-parent children of my art,
and I can't blame their failings on Society.

Her name is Chang Champoo,
translated as ‘Elephant Pink.’
Met on the street in tourist Thailand.
9 years old.
6 months pregnant.
A beggar in an urban landscape.

Hungry,
grabbing sugar cane from my fingers.
Desperate for food.
Destined for an early grave.

“Where are you from?”
A question to her mahout,
in Thai hauled from fragments of memory.
“The border.”  
Seemingly obtuse but not really.
Only one nearby.
Burma.

Elephants,
born in captivity,
used in logging,
now unemployed.
Teak forests of old but a distant memory.

Did I only fuel her belly
buying over-priced sugar cane?
Or did I also fuel
rampant exploitation
of disadvantaged animals?

Not everything in life
Is black and white.
Sometimes it is grey,
This night it was Pink.
How could I refuse her sustenance
when confronted by those
mournful pachyderm eyes.

The question lingers…

servants to society they roam
with blank, controlled minds,
meaningless obsessions fuelled
by selfish desires, unkind.

grandiose, pointless gestures
declaring nothing,
self-importance derived
from insistent buzzing.

absorbed by devices
holding existence hostage,
vacant stares, virtual prison,
lack of interest and knowledge.

Protected by the guise of
communication,
slowly ripping society
from its very foundation.

engrossed by nothing that matters,
materialism, image,
being flattered,

pretentious clones, lifestyle fictitious
there’s always a bigger picture,
but they’re preoccupied, pernicious.

disadvantaged by modern living,
people can be untrustworthy,
people are unforgiving,

misleading technology,
cruel traits heightened,
an entire race
believing we are enlightened.

When is the final round?
         Conception Semesters Birth
         Sit Crawl First step
         Crèche Primary Secondary
         Bachelors Honours Masters
         Junior Senior Manager
         Lust Love Family
         Unemployed Gainful Pension
         Plan Experience Memory  
                         ∞
When is the final round?
         Field Farm Fort
         Tack Gravel Tar road
         Rural Remote Urban
         Wood Rock Concrete jungle
         Developing Established Revitalization
         White Multi racial Black
         Conservative Liberal Decadent
         Pretoria Tshwane Tshwane Metro
                        ∞
When is the final round?
         Bushmen Dutch British
         Colony Union Republic
         Native Settlers Previously disadvantaged
         Undiscovered Developed Commercial
         Subsistence Commercial Corporation
         Oppressed Equal Masters
         Apartheid Democracy Socialistic rule
         Logical Confused Insane

Blank canvases that inhale and exhale
with motives to live.
That's all we are
painted by Biology
a gamble in the darkness of who wins the lottery of appeal.

Sometimes we are created
using the best paint brushes
a stunning color palette
other times we are thrown together
extemporaneous products of failure
slapped on with crippled fingers
that lack inspiration
deprived of just the right shade of beauty.

I am a sculpture of proof
a hurried project
nose recklessly placed on the center of my face
cheeks not rosy enough in the frigid winter
disadvantaged with an artist who must have mistaken pink for blue.
My body is an accident
worn with tears after erasing and retracing
time and time again.
My past is scattered with ugly ripe bruises
maybe from tussling too roughly with life.

My soul
is the only thing
that is not of Biology's creation.
Soul is something I have dug deep into
with two frantic hands
before pulling out a heart beating gold
swollen with optimism
warm with love
spilling with kindness
stronger than beauty.

I am perfect
because my soul
is louder than my body.
I am beautiful
because never mind Biology's snide remarks
I am flawless
because despite my luck
I am a work of art.

distance.
                     disaster
disadvantaged
                    disfigured
disappointment
                  ­ disconnected
disappearance
                    displacement
dista­nce.

In order to be succesful you must be a fool…

Thats the worse advise you can get ever..
I am so hurt after i got an advise like that…

Maybe i dont get the message right, help.
Being stupid means letting other people oppress you to get succesful,
I stil dont get it…

Steve Biko ” THEY HAVE TAKEN A BRIEF LOOK AT WHAT IS, AND HAVE DIAGNOSED THE PROBLEM INCORRECTLY. THEY HAVE ALMOST COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE SIDE EFFECTS AND HAVE NOT EVEN CONSIDERED THE ROOT CAUSE. HENCE WHATEVER IS IMPROVISED AS A REMEDY WILL HARDLY CURE THE CONDITION.” From I write what i like the chapter We blacks…

The sad part is even after 19years of democratic freedom in South Africa, some people wont change the State of mind about racial oppression it stil exist especially more in work plaće enviroment…

For someone who grew up Free, born Free generation stil put the whites superior and continue worshiping them to be superior than the other fellow nlack brothers grow up…

I am a fighter, i refuse to sell my soul to please fellow White brothers for favours of better treatment because of my dark Colored skin…

Its a sign, with the more knowledge i am equiping My self with for better and my space of democratic freedom and rights, i will succed in life…

For all the previously disadvantaged people they went through some tough time and cruel struggle…
For instance the “72 Hour Clause. A clause in apartheid regulations which controlled the movement of African from one district to another.”

Those people struggled but they fought dor equality. Now that we have equality you stil wanna plaese a fellow White brother with all the previllages you have.

I my self i know that through struggle that i encounter in life i learn more on survival and live to tell a story…

Im dissapointed already about some of the side effect of the past but im not ackwoledging racial discrimination nor even allow it to happen infront of me with a mute sense…

Can’t you see the light!
Its sign…
For all the unprevillaged people the is no succes without a struggle…

From the struggle you learn how to survive and live to tell a story…

Don’t water a thorn tree and expect an apple…

I am diametrically : opposed to the closure of night shelters,those helping hands that reach out to the disadvantaged,the homeless and those who have been savaged by circumstance.

What cost,the chance of some warmth,conversation,the realisation that all is not lost?

But
'we've gotta picka pocket or two...' Tory blue and Labour too,both are guilty in the dock.
The judgement said, 'we only followed where others led'

We have a way today to pay and finance those in poorer circumstance,we only have to open up our hearts and give a chance to them,the Women and the Men who have hit the harder times.

I've been there,done it,read the book and it is ****,don't let the press steamroller you and make you believe it could never happen,it's true it could be you out there,
and I don't care who you vote for but I don't like you if you close the door on those less fortunate because you've got more.

the story of bobby bradysmith

you see bobby bradysmith is a little cool kid, but he was having a few problems

you see he had childhood schitzophrenia and said he was every star on the television

driving his family mad, and bobby screamed to his dad, why doesn’t anyone like me,

is it because i was mental and his dad started to get really worried, and decided to change his ways

but the other kids didn’t want this, you see they had fun with bobby, ya know teasing him

and bullying him, ya know the whole thing, and one kid named rodney spalms went up to

bobby and said, what’s that your like us, and bobby was really hyped up, saying, i am really one of you

and he said, yeah, as long as you don’t get in our way, you will be one of us, and bobby was happy

but unaware, what he meant by get in our way, but bobby decided to not worry about that while he was young

and decided to go home and watch all the television shows and black beauty and even icarly were two shows

he actually liked, and every time he went to the shopping mall, the young dudes said, whats that bobby, your like us

and even the rougher boys, and hooligans said, yeah yeah yeah, your like us, as long as you don’t get in our way

and rodney wanted to stay at home, as he turned off treating bobby like his kind because he was getting bashed up for it

which wasn’t  really bugging bobby, but still he heard rodney say these simple words, what’s that, your like us, about 100 times

and as bobby’s hormones were going wild, you see with the schitzophrenia in his system, his ***** erected looking at kids legs,

and i mean kids younger than him, well, this felt normal for bobby as his father was married to a younger woman, like all the men

in his family, but bobby was really getting a buzz asking the kid to come to him and grabbing his mouth and then looked at his legs

saying, he was the cool kid now and it happened again and again and bobby was a bully, making mothers and fathers mad, as soon

as their kids were grabbed by bobby, they ran to their parents and parents tore strips of bobby, and still he heard rodney’s voice saying

what’s that your like us, which made bobby grab a few kids at school as well as grabbing a few on their way to school, but still rodney said

what’s that your like us, me and you can be two bullies, bobby, how does that feel, and bobby was getting a buzz, going to the shopping mall

attempting to grab a few more kids, scaring them half to death, making men say, LEAVE MY SON ALONE ****, and bobby said neh,

and then he heard rodney saying, what’s that your like us, your not a mans kid bobby, i am going to get the whole mall crowd to tease you

if you keep it up, but your still like us, rodney said to bobby, as rodney rode his bike saying, you sit in there woosey bobby, your not a bully

or kidnapper, and if you keep it up, you will get prisoners saying what’s that your like us, and i will have power over your mind, to confuse you, ****-face

you see rodney will use his religious powers to make each prisoner say, what’s that your like us, but bobby’s father disagreed with this

and tried to get bobby into jobs he hates, to get his mind of kidnapping, but that only made it worst for bobby, because he lost his job and

took off to the fruit market and tied one 11 year old up to the toilet, now, bobby was scared, so he let him go, instead of leaving the kid there

to squirm, and he still heard rodney say, what’s that your like us, but really rodney hated him doing this to all the kids, and befriended him right away

and bobby only spent a weekend in the lock up, and got out of his jail sentence and placed on a psychiatric order, and he had to see a probation officer

and bobby was relieved and was ready to hear rodney say, what’s that your like us, but it faded away, and people said, instead, i am going to get you back,

for what you did to the kids, and this made bobby very scared, because, the reason why he committed these horrible offences, was because he had

schitzophrenia, which developed into adult schitzophrenia, and made bobby get bullied on the street and then go home and take it out on, his poor

old mum and dad, and bobby was thinking this was a game, but his parents wanted bobby locked away, because bobby’s dad spoke up for bobby in court

and still bobby to his dad, wasn’t very grateful, and fighting with them, every blasted day, and bobby wasn’t winning this battle, so he decided to do some

volunteer work at st vincent de paul, where he met francine, who was a really good helper and also has the gift to make anyone a good helper and bobby

started work there emptying the clothing bins and other man like jobs and then bobby asked francine, as christmas was fast approaching and bobby wanted to

apoligize to the city for his schitzophrenic behaviour of the past, by playing santa claus in the st vincent de paul, and showing kids he was a nice santa, well

a few kids told bobby he was a fake santa, and the mall santa was much better, but bobby’s medication made him handle that with care, and after 2 years

because the medication was making bobby nice to kids as santa claus, rodney’s voice was coming back in his head saying, i am very impressed with you bobby

you know playing santa to test you out, what’s that your like us now man, and bobby was handing a sweet to an older kid, and he said, i don’t want a lolly, i am an

older kid, i don’t believe in santa, and rodney’s voice was giving bobby delusions, which didn’t stop him from being santa, actually he went out on the street

and murdered a cat, and when the police caught bobby, his parents said, send him to the psych ward, and as bobby entered the psych ward, bobby immediately

thought, this was the gateway to heaven, and then rodney’s voice entered his head, saying, i am not mucking with the crazy person, and this made bobby scream

to get out of the psych ward, every time his parents left, and when bobby got out, he had delusions that there was a money tree on the internet, and the way

to get more money, is download a money tree fertiliser and also booked himself on a private jet to the USA, and every time he saw a crime or bad weather

he would write I WANT TO GIVE $456 TO SAVE THE WHALES, or something like that, and he started to get better and went back to vinnies to work

and play santa at the end of the year, this was something that bobby looked forward to playing santa every year, but bobby’s medication was forcing him

to look up to space, and being santa and going down to the coast was his only things he liked, and then in 2007, bobby started working at graythorne village

a place for the disadvantaged to live, and still played santa, actually, bobby took holiday leave to play santa at christmas to make the kids happy and then

in 2009, bobby got sick of this looking up, as his job prospects were going places, and asked the psychiatrist, and in about 3 weeks, they changed his medication

and the medication was giving bobby energy to run and at the end of the year, be a fit santa claus, and then a new boss came at st vincent de paul, and after

all the fun of getting kids photos, sitting on his lap, the new boss wanted to change so much, so bobby gave up his santa claus gig, and later on lost his job

in 2013, because he was losing his cool streak, he enjoyed playing santa, he enjoyed helping at graythorne village, and rodney’s voice came back in his head

saying what’s that your a crazy person, what’s that your a crazy person, and bobby yelled at rodney’s voice, on the side of the cars, and then bobby found another way

to keep sane, and that was write, write and more writing to make him feel cool, and now bobby goes to poetry slams and writing groups and theatre acting courses

bobby might not have a job at present, but the writing, stops him from straying from family life,

I AM BOBBY, HE IS BASED ON MY LIFE

It’s clear to me now
Why some burdened men and women
Try to lose themselves

Before I saw no intent
For drowning oneself in the sticky entrapment of alcohol
For burning away one’s heart and one’s fingertips
For vivisecting the pain and stopping the pulse of the problem
For inhaling the stench of despair and smokey desires
For wrapping oneself in the poison arms of another, if only for a night,
As a desperate attempt to seek comfort and affection

Not that I am not loved
For I know how much is given up for me
I know how much is sacrificed that I may walk the paths of my peers
If only to saturate the steps as a shadow

Not that I am a burden
Of this I am also made sure
‘Till the sleeping guardian of days awakens and sends his horsemen unto the earth-
I could be told that I am loved and I am treasured
I could be told
Yes, told

Temptation was a distant planet
Floating in the same path as I, yet, too far for concern and too different for comparison
But yet
It seems that I am even unsure of the physics of this world
And some unseen force that I should have accounted for (and failed)
****** me into its many tearing, sharp moons and blazing, sarcastic stars
Until I found myself composed of their same dust

Sometimes I think that I am disadvantaged by love
That because I am nurtured and privileged to some recognizable degree
I have no excuses
That because I can venture the haven of my room and come back
With all of my bones intact
And all of the neurons firing
I have no excuse for physical pain of the embodiment of my heart
That because I am told, “I love you”
Everyday
An automatic response
I have no excuse for the damp, echoing void I feel
That perhaps is the lack thereof
If someone would just hit me…

But I must haul myself across the fields
And I must carry myself onwards
Yanking on the lifeless pieces dragging behind
Because to fall into false help and lying love
Until two years time-
Or, worse yet,
To be ungrateful
Is worse than the weight of bearing all and being carried
Clueless, obtuse, waste
When they already suffer enough

I only feel the kindling of warmth when I bring the fire to others
But even then
Daddy locks Prometheus up
Because somehow, the little brat even managed to ***** that up

And now I’ve gone and wasted an hour
Thrown away the precious gift of time
For writing this spineless catharsis of complain
When I should be thanking
As I’m working,
Studying,
Reading,
Mending,
Anything but creating this raging text of teenage angst and ill-excuse

I only encourage myself when I fall back into the white riverbeds begging me to fill them with life
It’s no wonder that when I picture myself happy
My queen and I reside miles past the familiar horizons
Alone in an uncharted temperate road that stretches
On and on
Taking me forever away

Two more years

its all in the family business
saving people
killing things
but what happens
when the saviors
need to be saved

weve both been to hell
and back
passed through heaven
with the help of loved ones
you even traveled through purgatory
and battled your way back to earth

we are expected
to be unbreakable
because thats who we are
its our legacy

but we are only mortal
and highly disadvantaged
against our demons and angels
so i think this time
i wont be able
to save you

Slipping through the willow curtain
Easing among the leafy overhang
Green sheltering cloak that sways
With an invitation to be my guest

I pass through, broaden my peripheral vision
Turn my cheek and my eyes lock
Pulled toward fierce or friendly
Mottled door, camouflaged grey as a stone

I swivel to listen before leather soles
Respond and move me without guard
I feel fear, uncertain to obey my instinct
Ruining the scene for the ticket holder

The choice it seems is taken from me
Though temporal, the entrance hides...it is coy
The gatehouse of resistance clangs
Its repertoire stumbles but my vision

Knows its route....the pathway falls away
And unwillingness encircles me like a bear hug
I cannot turn or go back, the door makes way
To tumbling steps gaining their advantage

Driven pathway recedes and I stalk the
Shadowy shapes that spill out to paralyse
Locking me to the wall
Solid and comforting yet stalling

The dreaded moment of choice
Invites its gangsters to dine with me
The here and now overwhelming
Its clues forlorn and disadvantaged

Rounding the dark corner of courage
I strengthen my resolve, and
Claim the light I so desire
It throws open a vivid saffron

Vibrant colour penetrates, seeping into me
I wade through this maze of superb
Splendour and I am feathered to the ground.
Book in hand … I gaze toward the.....
                                                           Willow Curtain

the 3 mental health conditions i have



depression, when i lose my jobs, and  when i lose my way in life, i go into a deep depression

or it could be anxiety, like like i go out, but when people treat me like one of their mob, i go into

a shell, saying, i am not a hooligan, i am a family person, and i would winge about this for days

i was thinking that other people, were trying to fight me because i am trying to be a street person

and the voice was saying you and your brother ain’t like us, you see, i always have been teased

by other poor people, because i am poor too, and i remember in the bar, i wanted to go to the bar

to have a beer, and these men wanted me to play with them, i was too young to understand, that they

were just using me, and i felt i was getting hassled, day in and day out, by the working class, it doesn’t stop

me from helping them, but i prefer to help the homeless, or disadvantaged at common ground, and

i look at common ground plans, and it could be how i visioned, when people yell at me, i go, leave me

alone, mate, i am a family person, i felt people were taking my job away from me, every day, i know now

that they weren’t, but i felt people were saying, i am sorry, your not cut out for helping us, today

i was really crazy, i implied to this man, who was doing the washing up, that i wanted to do this

he was upset, maybe, it is not depression, it’s me being anxious to help people, with my past, voices

saying don’t muck with brian, saying he is still a shy person, and despite all the good things i did

i left them, but the reason why i did, because, i was paranoid, that, i was being put in a little situation

by the people at the rainbow, like me being *******, in the craft room, i remember that note very well, i was

very uneducated about this, and i was trying to make it up to my mum after yelling at her and dad when i was young

and when i was drunk, and i wanted to be nice to everyone, but my kindness could have killed me, like i was

arguing with everyone, getting defensive so to speak, and i ate a lot of food and nearly died of obesity. well

i could say, i did die, of obesity, i am getting voices, every time i say i want to **** me when i was young, when i mean

the evil streak in me, the voice says, don’t, i liked that little guy, and he really did like that little guy, it could have

been created from the simpsons, there was a problem when i was working at the rainbow, i gave into temptation, where

i mucked with people who mucked around, but i still did my cooking and creative writing, and now, i have so many stories

to share with my youtube generation, but i was making mum and dad relax around me, and that is all i care about, and

then the crazy delusions i was getting when i killed my loving family cat, delusions were coming into my head, at first

i thought it was cool, i was hearing old mates and all my family, all gathering and the voices were great, and i tried every time

my parents got cranky, i tried to calm down, you see my parents would cry over spilt milk, literally, and then wondered why i

got cranky with them, i made a joke saying dad, don’t cry over spilt milk, dad got cranky and said, implying he was a clean person

and we should feel guilty about dropping anything on the floor, i said to dad, accidents to accure, and dad said, yeah but you need

to be more careful, and i wanted to escape my parents, because they were such projectionists in everything they did, and i found

out that leaving my house in a mess, was my way of playing cool for them, maybe in 2004, they were cleaning my house for me

before i went to hospital, but, i found mum and dad, as i said, real perfectionists, everything had to be perfect, i found it hard to

understand that my house if messy could spell eviction, but i was living in the backyard, yeah, mum and dad help, but i find a little

too much, i was doing fine when i moved in my new flat in hawker, i cleaned it every day, until i went into hospital, but dad

still wanted to be a dad, and i wanted him to be a friend, because, him and mums way wasn’t helping me, i understand where

it should help me, but it flaming didn’t, ya see i hated that little situation, where dad and mum were treating me like a 4 year old boy

so i brought back the memories for dad, saying why don’t you smoke again dad, saying, you seemed happier when you smoked

because, dad said, don’t argue with me be a BUDDHIST, i am a buddhist, but unlike christians, buddha allows a bit of teasing as

long as it is done in a peaceful, dad is dead, and now dad is betty campbell, but i want mum to one day understand this, because

i feel she is dwelling in all this, and she is worrying about me, but, i prefer the life of enjoyment, and i like community spirit

you see i liked and still like how men used to say i am doing a wonderful job, i was visioning dad turning off me, like he was

dwelling in the past, i told dad that his father is macauley culkin, but he actually is ryan clark, and mums dad is macauley culkin

i know this cause i am cronus, i liked when men said to me, keeping busy, mate, keeping out of trouble, mate

because i liked helping in the community, but mum and dad, i feel, were treating me like an old fogie, when they were complaining

about me doing volunteer work, i liked volunteering, every job was fun, mum and dad just worried about me, but in hindsight

i didn’t want them to worry, ok i never liked all that being my mums son, nor i hated being a little kid, i sit there and let us big adults

muck around, i liked how i was feeling down in the dumps, and i rang up dad and mum and we’ll doing the same thing

then i heard dad say, i am not mucking around in cool kid groups with brian, like a real **** would say, you see i was being an adult

i hated how dad tried to be like the in crowd, there is nothing wrong with that, but he looked like he was worried, i felt like saying

STOP WORRYING ABOUT YOUR SON BRIAN, AND RELAX, i tried to get him to relax by asking him to watch the cricket

and other shows, he refused, and now dad is dead, he is betty campbell now, but dad obsessed with doing everything perfect

if ya wanna copy dad, fine, but, i want to have better people around me, ok, to have PARTIES, dudes

rather than just doing it with mum, i am saving for adelaide on nye and the carols in the domain as well in sydney

PLEASE BUDDHA, BRING DAD CLOSER TO ME, ON TV, i miss him

I am a child, born to heartbreak, love, and war.
Like a parade, I dance with friends, learn karate after school,
And when I grow up, I sit at waterfalls with my other,
Thinking about the trees, animals, insects, logs, the lake, oceans,
And the mountain I climbed to get to where I am today.

I feel like adventure lets me travel from place to place.
I get to become a new person with every new destination.
I now feel like the wind.
I last forever and feel different to everyone.

I used to go to sleep to the sound of rain.
It was the best thing I ever heard.
Every drop felt like it had little bits of my future,
My hopes, my dreams.
I think it’s time to get my head out of the clouds.

Boys annoy me. I get sad thinking about how many people I have to give up in order to know happiness, and it’s strangely ironic.
I’ve got purple glitter in my hair and the music my mom made for me,
Told me I could trust people I considered family.
It’s like the real meaning of poetry,
Illegitimate images to imagine a world no real person could see.
The magic of a life with a girl who is able to sit in her big backyard when the sun goes down,
Thinking she’s had a pretty good day and that image has been burned into my head ever since I saw the end of college’s road and I am not even ready for tomorrow’s 8th grade homework.

When I started to think I could be alone, I ended up writing a small poem each night.
They all started with lines like,
“I miss you.
Come back I’m sorry for what I did.
I will not miss you if you leave.
Because I need you next to me all the time.”

A story of a girl who had diabetes. It all started when she was 3 years old,
and there I go. Making up characters because no one would really want to live this life.
No one would really want to be a living example of me.
But I will not leave that same mark for my legacy.
Dad, I think I want to be a scientist now.
I’ve loved complex equations since I was a kid,
Learning about life is so beautiful and cool and everyone will enjoy you,
And I’ll realize that my failures are not a disappointment to you.
I’ll be able to know how to not be sad anymore.
Because science teaches me everything and more.
I am a child, born to heartbreak, love, and war.


These are the voices of kids who have no idea what comes forward in life but will embrace it. These are the voices of kids who are disadvantaged because some societal system has decided they are nothing more that test grades. Here are the next leaders of our free world that have already been turned into scantron results.

You hear their voices and are impressed, but yet not depressed because as loud as they can be, the real world will steal their voices at the age of 18.
They are the only thing between us and anarchy.
They are the creative minds.
The souls we must nourish.
The skin we must keep pure.
If we are X, then they are Y,
And our direct relationship will always be an equation that must be balanced,
Never just an expression to be left unsolved.

De elevating power might
seem a futile task for a mere
earthling, disadvantaged by
stature, and of course due to
being under surveillance from
an altitude beyond reach, of
even, the imagination.

Such being the predicament
of an elderly Weasel inattentive
to the hidden dangers from an
intemperate predator soaring
directly above, just waiting to
profit from this evident dotage.

Down swooped the winged
carnivore, availing of surprise,
up-draught and velocity, it
quickly sank its talons into the
side of the disabled animal
and rose triumphantly into
the empty sky and high.

But just as possessions fall through
fingers, the winds of change were
about to reverse the tide of misfortune.
The stunned carcass, which only seconds
previously seemed as though was dead
as dead could be, suddenly posed a
problem for its captor (in flight).

Immediately, there was a notable change
of direction and a notable drop in the
flight horizontal, the big bird was visibly
in trouble, the Weasel had sunk its teeth
into the undercarriage, securing itself
from being released of the foot spikes.

The underdog was not going to go down
without a fight and there was nothing,
absolutely nothing The Eagle could do,
no negotiation, no solution other than
land, because The Weasel was not going
to let go and The Eagle was loosing fuel.

Efforts to dislodge The Weasel proved
nugatory, yet, The Weasel was prepared
to **** the Eagle in flight, a pyrrhic victory
is as democratic as one could wish for.
The Eagle had no option, down it came,
flew low along by the tree tops in an effort
to detach itself for The Weasel.

The Weasel availed of the Hobson Choice
and released itself from the breastbone
clambered on to the branches, making
its way out of the tree.
Meanwhile, The Eagle after a huge loss
of blood, left a trail along to forest floor
for The Weasel to follow


Ps.

The leech Eagle ended up in College Road
Sligo where it has a nest.
What became of it, is still unknown, but we
are sure, that The Weasel has not given up.

This is the Fable of Free Travel.
A pass given to the author by
a Government agency in Sligo
Ireland, and taken away with
no explanation.

Evolution set us on the wrong path
Being about the survival of the fit.
Which means shortage crucifies
Those who are disadvantaged,
We can never become wholesome.

To evolve the good in us
Many try for justice but usually
Regardless of their own decline.
Most don’t realise the guilt cut,
So much is just genetic code.

This is the lesson humankind comes to
Learn on the presipise of its own demise
But in reality it has always been too late.
Lonely, desolate it creeps along the beach
Cradling the possessions it collected in life.

Love Mary x

Why am I so guarded?
Emotional defense on *******
Too scared to hurt or be hurt
So relationships, I readily deter them
Jumping through situations like a temp taking any employment
Treating ***** calls like an active soldier ready for deployment.
Missing something,
Just don't know what it is,
Treating women like thots
That's me being the kettle calling black on the ***.
Just wanna be friends
Like Musiq
But I'm the soulchild of a disadvantaged generation.
Why shouldn't I abuse it?
So lets just just hook up, hang out,
Netflix and Chill

Eenie meenie little souls
How I wonder, be thou cold?
Stay thee in thy secret spot
Stripes of iron, cloth be naught

See we nothing, hear no sound
Sight omits thy tattered gowns
May death be kinder?  Death be quick?
Yes.  Death be gift by candlestick

We’ll send thee bread of molded clay
To save thee from thy wicked ways
Of clashing blood and god and skin
Inhuman made by ink of sin

For church reveals the sacred spot
Of heroes draped in thoughtless thought
Of condemnation, fears and tricks
And bearers of the candlestick

I’m done with sitting around
waiting for life to guide me
through a meaningless existence
as if things just happen.
hoping for problems to work
themselves out, regressing
to the safety and comfort
of nothingness,
doing nothing,
being nothing,

options have plagued the world,
so vast and unattainable that you’re
overwhelmed by choice,
disadvantaged by practicality.
expectations appear formidable
until you realise that most
lead a nine to five life,
hypnotised by the norm,
the mundanity is too much.

how do you begin to transform
a life that is settled in its routine?
to chance and hope without a
tangible end goal

then one day you realise
your meaning in life.
individual,
unique,
so precious and perfect
you must savour it,
cherish it. delve into
the world of possibility.

not everything works out.
truly there is no overarching
meaning to existence
but when you find your own
as different and quirky as it may be,
embrace its madness and
then you will be free.

My jeans ripple strands of faded
ponds curling around criss crossed
legs. The arc of my back hanging
over college ruled notebook paper
and I am sitting in the nook under
the staircase because I do not like
explaining to people why I am

so
*******
awkward.

And I might still try to die but if I
do not, I do not care all the same.
The air in my mouth is slightly stale
and seeping through the crevice of
my lips, like a draft, but they purse
tighter and I could almost hear my
breath beating against the back of
my teeth. Yell at me and travel your
voice close enough to cling to my
disadvantaged self-esteem and far
enough to send postcards when I
think I have had enough of this place.
If you want to talk too, I guess that
would be okay except my thoughts
are louder than you, so let me please

monologue
your
ear.

You can tell me how disproportionate
our relationship is after you help me
salvage what is left of my rationality.

I close my eyes and imagine
filling the ocean between us
with stones

stepping, one by one, over the water

as a child, I would skim pebbles with my left hand

disadvantaged and weak

I am now as I was back then
unable to reach the better half

of me

Our educational system is not serving our disadvantaged communities.

Public schools are funded by their respective communities' income because the taxpayers are responsible for helping provide money for schools.

This means that areas with low income are receiving less funding.

Without this funding, the schools are unable to hire more educators resulting in larger class sizes. The educators are also left with less funding for educational resources such as text books and supplemental materials. Extra curricular activities get cut completely.

These schools in disenfranchised low income communities are performing worse across the board and because of this their funding is being cut drastically.

We need educatiomal reform.

She was cursed from her day of birth,
as she entered with an inevitable disease,
all structures are brittle from the start,
but since then her pain has not eased.

Life begins in such a fragile state,
equal beginnings as we're all disadvantaged,
throughout it all only one thing matters,
do you possess the will to manage?

Time after time it happens again,
her inner solidity has been broken,
she was once held together perfectly,
and now the truth remains unspoken.

Her instructions were full of deceit,
for the healers could not possibly know,
as they protected her from further damage,
in shame her head lay low.

She was punished with anger,
from pain she could not prevent,
she wondered why she was tortured,
her life was full of discontent.

She suffered emotionally as well,
for her heart was pure,
throughout her tragedies in life,
it's known that nothing great is for sure.

The agnostic man that feeds the poor , clothes the enfeebled or shelters the disadvantaged shall walk the fields of Heaven someday whether he believes it or not ..For his good works came not out of fear of Hell but from love and kindness , divine works directed from a precious , caring heart ...

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I don't understand how someone so strong
Could think they are so weak
When they deal with way more bull
Than anyone should ever deal with.

I don't understand how someone that handsome
Could think they are that much of an abomination
When they have hated themselves way more
Than anyone should be hated, particularly him.

I don't understand how someone so amazing
Ended up so strong
So self-loathing
So anxious
So depressed
So misplaced
So disadvantaged.

grow me a bushel of ***** or corn
economics 101
declare a War prohibit and decrease the supplies
costs are going to rise
profits will too
and organized crime laughs at you
who won't stand for being lenient
in any way on crime
ignoring statistics
and the DEA
budget grows
the swat teams are well funded
the judges and politicians are left with
the Cartel saying
your choice-
shall it be lead or cash?
Declare The War: we will be able to bring  Jim Crow back.

The poor are going to find ways to make cash.
So lets lock up the disadvantaged, the minorites
just following the graph
taught in that basic business class
that shows the line rising straight up in profits
as we limit supply, the graph on incarcerated Americans
rising plotted against the rise in private prisons,
the rise of militarization of police forces
with the rise in black citizens deaths at their hands:
It's basic: Economics 101:
but, to look reasonably or compare
it to alcohol,  and be honest with ourselves
is left-wing liberalism.
And we all  know the effects of rationalizations.

The thing about privilege,
Is that it is not our fault,
Like our biological ***, our name, our lot in life,
It's handed to us the moment we're born,
Wired in DNA and red strings of fate,
Strings that form a safety net for one and a noose for the next.

It's our advantage,
Head starts while the rest have handicaps,
But this advantage against the disadvantaged,
It makes us lose our vantage point,
It's not our fault, it was handed to us on a gold platter,
And it's our job to make the changes,
That make the world fair.

Dealt the tattslotto number of existence,
Our road smoothed down,
The right race, the right gender,
Right religion, the right neighbourhood,
Things we didn't fight for and disregard,
Diss and say is too hard.

But the only race that should matter is the one of life,
And helping those who fell behind, forced behind,
And to help them cross the finish line,
I don't want to stand on the mountain top alone,
Join me up here, together with free flowing air,
And if you can't make it on your own,
It's our privilege to help you there.