/                                america, july 18th:
  and the utter media shambles -
like ****** and steroids
for the uninitiated -
     tongues without the rattlesnake
trill of an ᚨᚱ:
   numbed w'ah w'ah peddling
of woe to row the sinking boat:
maniac adult funfair
attempting a nostalgia
for the playground game
of bulldog...

                russia, 25th march:
the kemerovo fire (siberia) -
          children frying, screaming,
perhaps even hoping -
  a shying herod, the example
of: as moloch descended...
          prayers in the fire
                  by the innocents...

england, july 19th -
   alternative to rehydrating
using water...
    a generous 5 hour sleep -
******* on the remains
of last night's lemon
     used to infuse the subtle
smoky of bell's whiskey,
playlist:

- the jon spencer blues
  explosion (bellbottoms)
- britney spears (criminal)
- twenty one pilots (heathens)
- calvin harris (this is what you came for)
- camila cabello (habana)
- rihanna (disturbia)
- birdbrain (youth of america)
- ghost (ritual)
- focus (hocus pocus)
- edwyn collins (a girl like you)
- the guess who (american woman)
- the knack (my sharona)
- cronica (herr mannelig)

and then onto buckling in
4 beers and thinking
about black holes as the pin-head
of antimatter -
a dead sun...
     dead, but not dead...

   and the first, crude graphic
tomb raider game...

   rather than having completed
it...
     since only owning
a demo...

                 investigating
the possibility of 2D objects in
3D space...
       well: the universe isn't even
exactly 3D: it's hyper-3D...
    but in the tomb raider game
you could walk up to a minor
detail in the game, a fern,
and observe two-dimensionality
in a "three dimensional space"...

   namely: the ferns were all 2D,
and rotated within a "hyperbole"
of the eye -
   however you observed the "object"
it rotated round and round,
never allowing you to see
    its demoniac otherside -

i can only expect dead suns to
behave in such a manner -
   two dimensional objects in a three
dimensional subject matter -
almost paradoxical -

     rotating at immense speed...
invigorating a near but not quiet
a postportem of a death...

       and you really can see UV light
surface
staring at a glaring hot sun with
a naked eye -
   and see the same hyper-rotation -
it's almost like looking at
molten silver, but with a hint
of violet - i.e. akin phosphorescence:
but in the daytime...

and who said you need to
ingest hallucinogenics -
    and enter the labyrinth of a short,
short, history,
    of the chipmunk caveman?

i'm just drunk, you're probably
sober...
    but those guys doing
a timothy leary sermon?
   they're...
     gone.......................... gone -
     they hit the tangens curve.

This new world order
is more like disorder.
such a serious disorder
psychological disorder!
There's no more Syria
all is left is Fearia
and here in Serbia
it's the State of Disturbia
we're severely disturbed,
our minds are polluted
we're like half-people,
alive but executed.
Some big sharks
sharp their teeth on our bones.
World is again invaded by fascists
or their even worse clones!

Step right up and feast your eyes,
On something not meant for mortal eye.
Hide your children, and your wife,
For they could faint from the fright,
And the grisly, grim sight of sights.
And allow me to give you pause.

Even in chains, this freak may bite.
So look carefully, keep on guard.
For here lies Lady Disturbia,
High Queen of the Freaks,
Duchess of Disturbing Delight,
And Princess of Putridity.

Ah, do you doubt my word?
From behind, you say she looks
Divine. Hair, like golden wheat.
A waist so slim and so trim,
And legs so long and so supple.
An image of beauty, so you say.

But don’t be fooled by our Queen,
Simply look from another angle.
See her true face, now if you dare.
See her lovely lips, and doll nose,
See from her one, lone eye,
The rain that falls, and retreat!

faded into disturbia
felt like i was floating
couldn't see right, night two of devotion
you looked good to me
i hope these lingering attractions fade away
you were a one timer, a say hi and goodbyer
you were not supposed to take up a space in my brain to fester over
i am nothing to you
took hits just to work up the courage to talk to you
we haven't spoken since the one time
i wish i was more than a one time
but you, you have a new long time that i didn't know i wanted to be
took another sip to try and suppress you
took another hit to try and forget you
but there you still were

I think the end is mine to write (Cry For You, September)
Tell me darlin’ where do we begin? (Feel Good Drag, AnBerlin)
And if I die baby just know that I never got over you (Clocks Remix, Tito Lopez ft. Coldplay)
I’ll never give myself to another like I gave it to you (Rehab, Rihanna)
Cause anything worth my love is worth a fight (I’m Free, Kenny Loggins)
You got me lifted shifted higher than the ceiling (Sugar Sugar, Baby Bash ft. Frankie J)
Why deny it? It cannot wait I’m yours (I Won’t Say I’m In Love, Hercules) (I’m Yours, Jason Mraz)
Why don’t you sit right down and stay awhile? (Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?, She and Him)
We can share a cigarette cause we’re both fools (Yesterday, Atmosphere)
I can’t believe that’s what you said, I wonder am I sick? (Disco, Metro Station)
And all of these emotions are pouring out of me (Soundtrack 2 My Life, KiD CuDi)
Nothin’ heard nothin’ said, can’t even speak about it (Disturbia, Rihanna)
Cause when a heart breaks, it don’t break even (Breakeven, The Script)
I don’t know what’s right and what’s real anymore (The Fear, Lily Allen)
And I don’t know how I’m meant to feel anymore (The Fear, Lilly Allen)
Take me to all that we had, the good and the bad (Never Forget You, Lupe Fiasco ft. John Legend)
These tears didn’t care, they just hung in the air and refuse to fall (Crooked Teeth, Death Cab For Cutie)
This is the way it’s really going down, is this how we say goodbye? (What Goes Around, J.T.)
Know that you could set the world on fire (Walking On Air, Kerl)
If you are strong enough to leave your doubt (Walking On Air, Kerl)
But baby, you make me better (You Make Me Better, Ne Yo ft. Fabulous)
And it makes me feel so fine I can’t control my brain (Island in the Sun, Weezer)
I keep on runnin’ and nothin’ helps, I can’t get away from you (Erase Me, KiD CuDi ft. Kanye West)
We can’t rewind now, we’ve gone too far (The Internet Killed the Video Star, The Limousines)
And all I could do was think about sleeping next to you (Reflections, Atmosphere)
No matter where I am, no matter what I do, I’m always coming back home to you (Always Coming Back Home to You, Atmosphere)

You're young with too much cash, I've watched you grow up fast, but I can't forget the past-we weren't made to last.
      I thought by now you would know to never **** around with thieves, cause I guarantee this life ain't what it seems.
      Stealing hearts since day one, never thought you'd lose the one you loved; but every day it's getting harder, dealing with the devil is a dangerous barter.

DISTURBIA
HYSTERIA
FOLDED
ROLLED IN THE BACK
OF MY EYELIDS FLUTTERED BY HAIL
BUT MY EYES DON'T BLINK
DRIED LIKE CONCREAT CRACKED
OPEN
FROM TEARS OVERDONE READNESS
CONTAGIOUS
IN MOUNT OLYMPUS
PALE LIKE*******
IT CONTAINS YOU
LIKE EVAPORATION
I CRAWL WHILE I
SLURR THE LIFE OF MY EYES
LIKE
CHECKING ON INTO IMMAGRATION
BOBB MY HEAD BACK
AND TWIST OPEN THE CAP OF EVERY BLOOD FLOW BEHIND THE SOCKET
AND IT GOES
IT FLOWS
LET GO
LOOSE LIKE A **** TO HER KNEES
PLEASE YOU
ME
INTO YOU
INTO ME
IN MY EYES
STAY OPEN
CAN'T PUT THEM
TO SLEEP
AND SHEEP DON'T COME ROUND HERE NO MORE AND MY SIGHT KEEP SEEING METEPHORES
OF HUMOR FORMING
INTO EVERY TRICK PLAYING OPTICAL ILLUSION
YOU WERE

...AN ILLUSION

CREATING MADNESS
AND THE CORE OF MY HAIR ROOT RAISNG SKIN DEEPINING ICE BURGE SKIN FROZEN
THE BECONS ABOUVE THE SKULL TOP SPITTIN OUT PELE'S LAVA MELTING BURNING
TEARING APPART
THIS MASSACRE OF MY HEART
AND I AM LEFT TO HARVEST
HARBOR
WHAT'S LEFT OF THE UGLINESS IN MY EYE

(INCREDIBLE INK- TEAM JAGUAR HAWAII )
© Copyright 2014 S.T. Parish CSP Rebel of Eden

Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own.
Adopt my religion and experience my nirvana.
Give into me. Come to me.

Thus is the title of today's Media's agenda.
The title which fuels their un-endless propaganda
To recruit as many of us as they possibly can.

Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own, goes their slogan.
Give in to me. Come to me…

They grab our attention by showing us light and turning it into gold.
That or any other materialistic miracle that never gets old.

Those of us who need no more persuasion are hooked and are welcomed with open arms.
Those who defect are labelled renegades and rebels and are welcomed with open arms. Ready… Aim…

And you know it's not a game when, out of the silence, a hollow voice whispers.
Not quite a baritone… Insidious as sin.
The voice says, "It's safe to say that I'm ok.
Come to me and I'll take you away.
Don’t be scared, just let me in.
Don’t you want to be my friend?
Come and see what my followers have become!"
And then the television switches on…

The chorus of Rihanna's Disturbia plays and cross fades into Jay Z's Run this town only to be mixed with another song and another after that.
The music is almost tantric but nothing compared to the laser light show provided.

What is this I see inside?
Behind the rainbow and beneath the sky.
A steady shape grows from deep within the Fantasia-like backdrop.
Then appears a bright silhouette of a woman's bare back top
Or in other words, her shoulder.
Hidden amidst the uproar of colours.
Then as I keep on watching, or in other words, behold her…
I see her… I feel like I know her.
Even more so, I feel like I want her!

The temptress in the red dress.
Nothing is too outrageous for her; I can't look away as she begins to sway.
At first she moves so elegantly, with the grace of Astaire and the confidence of Xena But then she twists and turns her sweet ballet into something that even the Lambada would call seductive.
What am I supposed to do? ...
She dances on a checkerboard floor.
Her dress flows like gushing blood.
She looks like she moves and she moves like she knows me…

I steal another glance at her. She wears big earrings with pyramid shaped ornaments dangling from golden chains. Inside them a single eye... Just lovely.

Men want her. Women want to be her.
Come to think about it… Isn’t that how they promote goods nowadays?
****!

What happened?
I look at her again and all I see is nothing???
Why was she taken away from me?
Maybe it's because I'm not allowed to ask any questions!
Because using my mind is old fashioned right?

Now I see what time it is. Now I see that she was false.
As false as the voice's promise.
It was all a mere figment of real life, it must have been.
Because never has my imagination let me down like that.
I blame myself for letting them get to me.
He, the voice and her, the blindfold.
They knew me.
They know us.
They've shaped us.

They have been shaping us since the dawn of time.
They, along with their leader have been trying to lead us astray all along…
In truth I was not surprised when I came to this realization. Simply because it was written in all four books but I was still in doubt.
I guess they got to me and I didn't even realize. Wow…

Clever they are. Give them that I will.
Possess infinite knowledge of the dark side they do.
They plague us with mind tricks and play us like chopsticks.

Their tactics are ingenious yet very unsubtle.
They control us through fake dreams,
And through low self-esteem, enslave us.
They know what they are doing…

Join me, embrace me.
Take me in and call me your own.
Adopt my religion and experience my nirvana.
Give in to me. Come to me…

Ever since mankind had learned to learn,
He was taught and bought.
The infamous "They" have been picking away at us as if we were a giant iceberg, non-stop using only a needle… They have been doing it for over a thousand years. Now we are almost the size of a thirteen inch ice cube and they are in charge.
Our days are numbered and we are melting fast.
Our 40 days aren’t up yet but time is against us.
It's time for us to choose.

Either dance with the devil, and join his rebellion,
Or go with the Ring and switch off your television.

Peace.

If you think this isn't reality
Then *******
Accept the fact that misery
Is misery, and if that won't do
Then know that I know why
But I won't tell you.

Disturbia is my life
**** Rhianna for
Envisioning a sick truth,
Then not exposing the demon
That lied to you.

The truth, it is far fetched.

Within these four walls
I befriend the darkness
and my shadow is
no longer an ally.
Fifty-three minutes
and twenty-seven seconds
later
I burst into
broken butterflies' wings
and deafening screams
to keep the light away.
"Solitude is bliss."
but I find my
disturbia and bravado
*within these four walls.

Created me in spring
But I swallowed water
To grow anywhere from green.

In gulps of disturbia
Breathed in and out
The leap of fate that is found
In osmotically lean sciences.

They trusted to morph
My lucid moments of thrill
Into smudges of change
That evoked brushed memories
I knew I would never
Bear the pressure to recall
                               nor dwell on.

This callous decision
To move on with them is
Anything but to sound less obvious
And to erase all commas
                             as if mute anything
That is to be felt and to sense instead.

Blow holes in convention
make art that disturbs the status quo

And your penance
is to daily reach into your disturbia
knowing your mark of Cain beyond whitewash
and the force of truth rakes searing flames on your pains
as you rage nursing the stillbirths of your lame acquisitions
inward to outward your beings shuddering in bloodless vacuums
the rogue pack of miscreants chained to hollowing  madded chants
excluded from banquet of lights your tears ring in hollowed chimes
you will always weep after Olympians for courage and grace is never yours
In white sorrow your penance is to daily reach into your disturbia

i've been listening to signals
of being so,
so,                   so,
so...
                  better educated...
while also...
having to resort to asking:
so...
                      so...
who's going to butcher
the cows going into
the slaughterhouse:
moaning slabs of
                  "syllables"
of vowels with no
knowledge of consonants?!
who?!
                   who?!
pristine what?
i said:
           by the saint and by
the clandestine
suitor's cover...
me...
listening to rihanna's
disturbia?
did i just *******
a *****,
             did i just...
do the funny ***** lips
with an ****...
no...
        i just listened to
a song...
            there's a...
*******... limit for citing
the mea culpa...
your fault,
my fault...
   and then Pontius Pilate
walks in...
'**** all of this **** out,
i'm ready, bargain,
punching-bag exclusive
take, on,
what...'
catching up contra
the 1960s...
       watch me...
disillusioned by the beatnik
poets....
              does it matter?
no no...
i try to heave the heavy sight
of a sigh...
we, again, on repeat...
better learn some Sanskrit
to escape...
  or learn to brovado
through with some curry
recipes...
                 like:
who is to conquer Siberia...
little people learning to play
chess...
big people learned
to conquer the Raj and teach
us to play the "sport"
of, cricket...
               only recently,
news,
the ski jumper, Finn,
          Nykänen died....
      yeah... modern standards,
aged 55, he, "died"...
ooh, please 'elp,
'elp 'elp!
i have an ambrosia branch
sticking out of my eye,

ouch ouch,
comic strip Asterix, ouch ouch...

hey presto!
the elgin marbles!

the animal was never going
to moan out...
slabs of syllables,
for syllables you'd need
both vowels, and consonants...
but a cow being towed
into a slaughterhouse?

i'm guessing...

               dostoevsky walking
the nevsky prospekt doesn't cut it...
it's like...
   vowel... intimidating
a consonant to show &
subsequently to attach itself
to...
there's also the vowel-in-itself
squint...
            the jamming sensation
of what could become
the gritted teeth without
a jawline...
the pristine tall couple
talking about his
                 programming
job somewhere, somewhere
far away...
and the both of them look
taller than the two of me...

      stuck in retro...
or whatever remains the gloated
voice of the populace
of the past....
proud term, that term: necromancer...
i can't deviate from the fact,
that my personal library,
is mostly composed
by... dead people...
or as i like to call them...

so much of the written word,
but no epitaph of
"worth" bound to them...
good...
    i own books
without epitaphs...
better than "own"
people without a worth of
scribbles to ascribe them
to...

me? real life?
or... this current spew of
real-time "conversation"?
of me, and this agitated blank
canvas?
     you, me, or the who's who
of what's to be written?

yes, the cow...
it could not tow into
the slaughterhouse a distinction
of telling apart
the vowel from the consonant...
almost like the english
people...

          they attempted to escape
writing in :)
rather than telling me...
     š... for: šut up!
              the cow being towed
into the slaughterhouse?
the cry of vowels
searching for its apparent
non-existence of consonants!

you know...
that's trauma...
the sort of trauma that locks
you in...
the sort of trauma that says...
thank **** i'm not Syrian,
Iraqi, or Lybian...
  i feel... less inclined
to "spread the love" of the trauma...
i've seen one cow being towed
into a slaughterhouse...
i don't feel like
expanding on the topic
with an over-exaggeration
of humans screaming: yelp!

then again, Paris once...
  Nabokov filled...
back in circa 2005...
me? go back to Paris?
ha... ha ha!
   ah ha ha ha ha ha!
               so i'm supposed
to play the infantile game
of counting marbles?!
i'm learning to play the game:
sit on your ***
and pretend to lasso a donkey
to gallop!

oh... i could learn to **** this
thing is transit...
if only i was first given
the basic rubric
of having eaten it,
                            i.e. man;

bad boy what?!
    first idea...
the cow is being towed
into a slaughterhouse
and it has no knowledge
of consonants!
    second idea...
              und wie isoliert ar sie?

like any ancient "text":
abbreviations not handy...
i.e.
   (except that
sort, kind, genus):
if not on loan then...
                "handy"...
   lying about like ruins
of the stipend of
architectural t'inking...
***** gonna
groove speed'oh
or am i to chequer
those goggles
via a... "google"?
   now i know oogling:
but 'now no ogle...
the omega franchiße...
your plot of:
"sorting this of
******* out":
strobe?
sure: epileptic la la
angeles...
         like any ancient
"text":
shame, real shame...
given that i:
am using the, same,
*******,
phonetic, encoding,
as: what cannot
replicate the screams
of Pompeii!
****!
like: "back" to the future
with "no" past...

what's the difference
between
latinaporcus (pig latin:
pospolite:
jeno-glite...
            wzajem: tzn.
t. wszystko: razem)
   and latinarubico?

scholasticism
doesn't exist on the street
even if the street is
an internet page...
schooled
in: rev. up the
mo-ped Essex boy:
orange man
is, as bad if
you only knew what
orange was
without a prior
to lecture about
Louis XIV,
Vill schksch'tzzz
von H'orange...
and... a tanning
salon in Romford...

can't we...
somehow... like...
make surds
more indicative
in this language?

like:

     'nome: for gnome...
  'nosis: for gnosis...
       wet *****
of a tongue whenever
Rhu'ha'n'ah's tongue
disturbia comes on:
Bahamas' variety
of bongo bongo...

            surds!

             'now... ah!
ha!
        lookie lookie:
Luke the Lucky fluke...
'now...
  that's a tricky surd...
that "missing" K...

can't blame herrinspektor clueso
or the
    the kkk took my baby away
band either...

now could never
become 'know...
look... a: UFO... that, yes:        '
  indicator of a letter
being: "missing"...

           nau-   wooo wooo wooo
casper caught a keeper...

              and the greek?
tau...
ergo?

                  to 'now (snort)
and no awe with
an: exfoliating ah...
                      akin to "now"...

but to 'ork is no slice
of pork in what
was once Cockney...
that became 'ackney (H)...

that came:
  a while away from
the worth of a
   white 'night's
   strut into...
               scalps sold
hanging off camel humps
like chandeliers:
and yes:
the rotating bonanza
like, some...
    
      yes... yes... carousel...
disco rubic cube jargons
of esoteric epileptic
      dance-offs
   bragging
   **** contra *****
satiating sizes
versus the dervishes
       of Istambul...

kwald ah numb'd
toon'g ah too'r n'ah dough...

called a numbed
             tongue a tornado!

yes, yes: said the psychiatrist:
i too thought that
oysters could compete
in the olympic tradition
of performing the belly to
a fosbury's flop
worth of:
            ...and that street
cat... "just"... curdled "itself"
into my welcoming
arms...
i became an armchair...
and it became
a Siberian shawl...
very much a Moscovian
day-to-day photo-opportunity...

ancient texts:
modern bogus...
ancient latin "sort of"
deviates from excruciating
the reader with
any pronoun usage...
conjunctions are
used sparingly...
namely the logic of
mirror tautology,
or: mirror ad infinituum...

forget about
prepositions as such...
whatever grammar was, was,
current grammar?
too volatile...
eat a parsnip:
**** out a whiff of
absinthe
   in the variety of
having ingested:
fennel root...
   savvy?

now NOT 'now!
now NOT 'now!
now NOT 'now!

   no one's going to shout
that sort of pedantic
observation, any time, soon...

           ooh... hollowed out
omicron... not an elongated
omicron in the form
of an omega...

    ooh...
write me the phonetic
transcript... pretty please!

nau 'not no'!....

   ooh! pretty pretty!

Not at ease
Not comfortable with myself
Troubled
Disturbia

Try to get some sleep
Yearning
Missing
Relax
  
                      Relax ...

Eyes wide open,
My eyes never tire out.
It suddenly startles me,
when the light goes down.
Unable to shut my eyes,
Unable to fall asleep.
Unable to finally wear off,
Unable to be in peace.
Im just in disturbia when the night approaches;
Insomnia when I try to sleep.
Silence is getting noisy;
The darkness is what scares me.
My nightmares haunt me all night;
My body just jerks with fear.
My nerves are just shot;
Everything is just so unclear.
Im just so overtired;
That I dont even feel exhausted.
Im just so out of it;
My sleep habits are forever melted.
Im so woken up from the darkness;
& so restless from being up.
Im so sick & tired of trying to overcome my fears;
I just feel so locked up.
& everytime I try to close my eyes;
My body jerks reminding me not to pass out;
& every night Im losing sleep;
But I can never turn the lights out.
& its just insomnia keeping my eyes busy on a lookout;
& its just all in my head;
But Ill never get over the fear;
No matter how much I shout.
So Im awake when my alarm starts;
Im awake all night long.
To suffer with patience for the day to come;
Because when I try to fight my fear,
Im just not that strong.

So the scientific theory
Is that it's my brain's biochemistry
I have an imbalance
Bipolar disorder

I just cannot relax
Disturbia
The Shire
Mordor