Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
drrajab Sep 2015
The ***** COMBO Gel is specially designed to increase ***** size, stop early ******* and improve weak *******. It is a powerful blend of high quality handpicked herbal ingredients that are efficient in increasing ******* performance in men. It is the product of choice for men who want to restore vigour and achieve bigger and rock-hard *******. This herbal gel works on all types of erectile dysfunctions and other related male problems, Increase libido and stamina, Bigger, fuller and firmer erections, Gain up to 3-13 full inches in length, Enhance ******* pleasure and enjoyment, More forceful ******* and improve erectile quality, Cure weak ******* and delay foreplay by retaining ******
Accelerate frequency of Nourish and stimulate the male glands, Promote growth of nerve tissue, Increase blood flow to the erectile tissue, Stops early ******* and make more rounds, Ingredients, Mulondo roots and tropical herb extracts. The main ingredient of this male enhancement gel is Mulondo roots it is a native African herb, this herb has been used since centuries for male enhancement. It carries natural aphrodisiac properties that is said to restore the vitality of manhood by offering enhanced self-confidence and ******* ability. Call Dr  now on The Best Breast Hip and *** Enlargement Products +27730932649 Kenya Oman +27730932649 hips breast and bums enlargement cream in Canada Qatar Dubai Australia Belgium Bulgaria Portugal Saudi Arabia Namibia Botswana (cream/Pills) in Dubai Montenegro Oman Hips And Bums Enlargement Creams & Pills +27730932649 IN USA UK London Australia Germany Kuwait Qatar Oman Saudi Arabia Zambia Zimbabwe Nigeria Turkey Mauritius Hungary Iceland Ireland Italy Latvia Liechtenstein Lithuania Luxemburg Macedonia Malta Moldova Monaco Montenegro Netherlands Norway Portugal Poland Romania
BREAST, HIPS AND BUMS ENLARGEMENT CREAMS,PILLS / GEL CALL+27730932649 Get Bigger Hips and Bums with Yodi Pills Call +27730932649 TAGGED ENGLAND, UNITED STATES, NORTH AMERICA, SOUTH AMERICA, ASIA, AFRICA, AFGHANISTAN,ALBANIA, ALGERIA, ANDORRA, ANGOLA, ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA, ARGENTINA, ARMENIA, ARUBA,AUSTRALIA, AUSTRIA, AZERBAIJAN, BAHAMAS, THE BAHRAIN, BANGLADESH, BARBADOS, BELARUS, BELGIUM,BELIZE, BENIN, BHUTAN, BOLIVIA, BOSNIA AND HERZEGOVINA, BOTSWANA, BRAZIL, BRUNEI, BULGARIA,BURKINA FASO, BURMA, BURUNDI, CAMBODIA, CAMEROON, CANADA, CAPE VERDE, CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC, CHAD, CHILE, CHINA, COLOMBIA, COMOROS, CONGO, DEMOCRATIC REPUBLIC OF THE, REPUBLIC OF THE, COSTA RICA, COTE D'IVOIRE, CROATIA, CUBA, CURACAO, CYPRUS, CZECH REPUBLIC, DENMARK,DJIBOUTI, DOMINICA, DOMINICAN REPUBLIC, EAST TIMOR (SEE TIMOR-LESTE), ECUADOR, EGYPT, EL SALVADOR, EQUATORIAL GUINEA, ERITREA, ESTONIA, ETHIOPIA, FIJI, FINLAND, FRANCE, GABON, GAMBIA,THE GEORGIA, GERMANY, GHANA, GREECE, GRENADA, GUATEMALA, GUINEA, GUINEA-BISSAU, GUYANA,HAITI, HOLY SEE, HONDURAS, HONG KONG, HUNGARY, ICELAND, INDIA, INDONESIA, IRAN, IRAQ, IRELAND,ISRAEL, ITALY, JAMAICA, JAPAN, JORDAN, KAZAKHSTAN, KENYA, KIRIBATI, KOREA, NORTH, SOUTH,KOSOVO, KUWAIT, KYRGYZSTAN, LAOS, LATVIA, LEBANON, LESOTHO, LIBERIA, LIBYA, LIECHTENSTEIN,LITHUANIA, LUXEMBOURG, MACAU, Botcho Cream and Yodi pills were recently introduced to Europe, USA and the rest of South Africa
+27730932649 HIPS AND BUMS ENLARGEMENT CREAMS/PILLS Bigger bums and hips is wanted when skin is stretched to the point of breaking down, similar to elastic losing it's elasticity. Losing collagen and elastic in the skin causes loss of tone, stretch marks, fine lines and wrinkles. When there is a breakdown or loss of elastic and collagen fibers or excessive stretching in the skin, it actually shows through to the epidermis (skin layers). our creams penetrates through the epidermis (the top skin layer) down into the dermis (the second layer) where the ingredients go to work repairing the damaged area from the inside - out. This safe and effective formulation is a deep penetrating, micro active topical cream that can be effective for **** enlargement creams and pills. our bums and hips products are a safe and effective formulation is a deep penetrating, micro active topical **** enlargement cream that can actually make your buttocks bigger, rounder and firmer in just weeks! this **** and hips cream does what no other over the counter or prescription medication can come close to doing. Try it now for youthful, natural and more supple skin within just weeks. this **** and hips cream is very gentle and does not irritate the skin and developed from years of research and studies creating a safe and effective formulation. The active ingredients in this **** and hips go directly to the desired area via our scientifically advanced trans dermal delivery system. This type of delivery to the applicable area is effective and fast! This **** enlargement cream can process trans dermal delivery at a higher rate than other creams on market in the world
calldrrajab22@gmail.com
visit:rajabproduct.wix.com/rajab
hi I'm jaden Mar 2014
I tried, x
**
something I get a lot is, “you’re too young to be a feminist.”
too young to be a feminist for you’ve yet  to witness a rhyme or  reason to believe we lived in a patriarch-fueled
society where the erectile dysfunctions of men are paid for by health care but, God forbid a
woman seeks birth control to help herself
God forbid a woman does anything to help herself
a society where women are taught to be happy with what they can get
yet to be ashamed when they get it
a society where I grew up being taught not to trust a man for he’d hurt me but
taught to have the house clean and his dinner on the table when he got home
a society where a woman in a tank top and a pair of daisy dukes is a “***** who is asking for it”
when the same woman is what’s used to market the male population who are taught that this is the woman they deserve
a society where a woman is unworthy and ***** if she isn’t a ******
but a man is a man so long as he is “getting the hoes”
a society where women are taught to protect their innocence and their virtue
and the society where they are ostracized and ridiculed for not being ready
a society where consent is hopped, skipped, and jumped around and the so called “fact” issued by
Scott Johnson that says men can’t control their issues
a society where a woman’s womb is not her own whether she wants this baby or not
I was taught *** was shameful and wrong unless you were married
but please, give him a baby and keep him satisfied
we glorify teen pregnancies and ignore the accomplishments of women
if I’m too young to be a feminist,
then it’s quite **** sad I can point out what’s wrong in the world.
Nhlanhla Moment Oct 2015
I'm sorry that I am inadequate
I am sorry that I am absolutely confident
I'm sorry that I'm happy
I'm sorry that you're miserable more than half the time
I'm sorry that you only start loving me once you've broken my heart and I have left

I am sorry that I am not rich or possess glamorous material
I am sorry that these are the type of people that you would settle for
I am sorry that where I come from there is no ego, smallness or bigotry
or watch dogs to keep stars in check so they're humble for there is no extreme self-ansorbtion
I'm am sorry that you cannot feel and I am not there to heal once your conscience starts to breathe
I am sorry that I have failures and dysfunctions
I am sorry that you feel small and inadequate when I achieve
I am sorry that when you are angry; everyone around you must be just as angry
I am sorry for the weakness in you to hurt others because you are constantly hurting and cannot contain it

I am sorry that I am not perfect and may not be everything you have ever dreamed
I am sorry that I have to be crucified for the mistakes and faults of previous lovers
I am sorry that I don't have a *** appetite when I am feeling down and low
I am sorry for being direct and sincere
I am sorry that there are certain things that I do not feel anymore, pains that just cut the broken pieces of my heart
I am sorry that wars have turned me into a recluse and gave me no choice but to grow
I am sorry that I resonate to vibrations that radiate positive energy
I am sorry that I found solace in solitude and understanding myself

I am sorry that womankind has been scarred by men who had failed to understand the feminine energy within themselves
I am sorry that I am to blame for your emotional instabilities
I am sorry that you cannot run as fast as the best athlete
I am sorry that I cannot drive as fast as the best Nascar driver for I do not have a car
I apologize for low tolerance for *******, lies and fakeness
I am sorry for my emotional scars
I am sorry for  intelligence when it cannot reach you
I am sorry that you cannot understand how wounded I am, if you did you'd stop trying to hurt me for you'd only be hurting yourself
And lastly I apologize that you lack self esteem to realize the magnanimous potential within you
but see it is self-esteem, work that you do on yourself with the support of those who serve goodness and your best interests

I am sorry that the world is filled with the filth of hell
but what the heck I cannot be sorry for searching for heaven in the circumstance.... So I'm not sorry for divinity.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2020
.a grand biblical event could be happening, it could very well be happening... but then you could be like me, treating a toothache with cloves... sieving through the smiths' oeuvre (because when it came to 1980s music, it was always about the cure and depeche mode)... or getting your anaesthetic watching stockholm requiem... robotic or perhaps just zoological swedes treating the case of: unwanted... like a heart-attack is merely a murmur... i imagine the germans in concentration camps being burdened with their trained sadism... sickly sweet from the crescendo of inhumanity... anything but this swedish anemia... this "supposed to be human"... perhaps it should be called the Moebius-Stockholm Syndrome... no... i have no impeding wish to go back to visit Sweden... i'm sure to find more water in a rock... i'm sure to find more sunsets if i were to go blind... come summer and the air would drop temperature come the desired hours of the spectacle... i quiet fancy the nazis to have been burdened with too much of life, the mammalian hot-bloodedness... i can almost imagine them being unable to bypass their erectile-dysfunctions with those deeds of theirs... than these ivory pickles of men... not even an event of biblical proportions would wake these people if their thespians are so... morbidly without a grace of a statue standing over a grave... the facade of flesh... when i can peer at a necro-associated-sculpture and pave my way toward "imagining" something intent on life within it... if the swedish thespians are so... less rummaging... i can't quiet imagine the real-life swede... perhaps they're just autistic? or... let's be kind... solipsistic? well... if only being invaded was something of a cure... as Knausgård mentions... i wonder why there's this sudden rise in scandinavian romanticism: genesis... i would rather trace a backward "plan" from sanskrit and to the great mother siberia... daydreams and ineffectual markings of... these days words of most importance are more ascribed to... the sort of paper you will not write on... escape from sobibor... i can imagine being exhausted by having to perform so much sadism... rather than, say, calmly brewing a cup of tea... it must have been so tiresome to be trained as monsters... of course: exceptions... it's just tiresome through-and-through... buying mania... for shoes... for umbrellas... for obscure details that might allow any general improvement of life... singing lazily as morrissey... did... if the man is to become a pariah... hell: not as bad as a persona non grata: the guns of navarone only come out with the proper latin... the concentration camp "workers"... the salt-miners of the *****... of no affair to make a sympathy... but if you've just watched a swedish thespian production... in unwanted... stockholm requiem... more like a Moebius-Stockholm Syndrome... you'd turn to watch something of something clearly tortured... by torturing... from above: crisp clean napkins and all those anecdotes over dinner while ingeting champagne in flutes... there's no need to make this "look" good... this is still about morrissey, though... tired of the cure and depeche mode... the current craze for biblical sized proportion of events... apparently it's true: absolutely everything is MADE IN CHINA... well... at least no one's dying with boils, spores... weird mushrooms growing out of their armpits... or the leprechauns of leprosy taking a bite... point being... i don't think this current state of affairs proves that my fellow man... could stomach... very little these days... then again... i could get away with this: humanisation of concentration camp guards... because i feel completely robotic having watched swedish acting... i'm looking for the most worthwhile available alternative... when you can't just pet a cat... as william burroughs noted... you can keep a cat, feed it, pet it... but at the end of the month you need to gauge its eyes out to enter the ᛋᛋ... so uber... by the way... why is there no D in armanen runes? hard to make sense of a future language of: the man in the high castle with only 18 letters... that's 4 short of the hebrew alphabet... clearly *******... 24 in greek... 23 in roman... 26 in modern english... 41 letters in the glagolitic alphabet... yes: graphemes and all - all those diacritical passions... 32 in modern polish... early germanic had 24 letters... but the armanen runes? only 18... *******... so much for ***** von List or what the third ***** germans read... the wrong sort of neopaganism: esp. if you're about to... ******* about 6 letters... you can't exactly have a language with a bare minimum of... 22 letters... which is a lie... ha ha... the hebrews have 27 letters... but their vowels are like diacritical marks elsewhere... "hidden"... it's the basic prefix rule of o(mega) and e(psilon)... or for that matter a-lpha and b-eta... well... there's the ******* siamese adams (א) and (ע)... b(ב), g(ג), d(ד), h(ה), v(ו), z(ז), ch(ח), t(ט), y(י), k(כ), L(ל), m(מ), n(נ), s(ס), p(פ), ts(צ), q(ק), r(ר), sh(ש), "t"... so that's the ******* siamese adams and the timmy and timothy t(ט) and "t"(ת)... but there are five over letters... kametz (a), chirek (i), tzere (e) cholem (o) and shurek (u)... although... they're not treated as letters... but akin to the acute diacritical mark when s becomes ś... or when a c grows a cedilla and becomes ç... or when an A grows a tail and becomes Ą... in hebrew that's already exposed... sh(ש)in is a caron s (Š)... and ch(ח)et is a caron c (Č)... no... if you're looking at hebrew as i am... gobsmacked... because they're playing crossword puzzles by merely writing... how their vowels wear niqabs... and are "not included"... you can't have a functioning civilization without a bare minimum of 22 letters... which is a lie... the hebrews just treat their vowels are diacritical markers... they have 27... the standard was given by the greeks... 24... and of those that are, 24... you could say... ΦΘ: phi and theta: F... OΩ: omicron and omega: is that pop and ****? equivalent? there's you real 22 letter alphabet... which includes all the vowels... ξ(ks), χ(ch), ψ(ps) - otherwise the letter that makes π a patent surd... so ψ is the aesthetic variation of σomething else... only differentiated when written... not necessarily when spoken - so you could technically... let's leave it at that.

they're saying about ibuprofen -
whatever the science: how the virus is latching
onto it and is sustained by it -
quack-theory or a barking up the wrong
the tree -
                    last time i heard an ibuprofen
is best for a toothache -
                  if only life... could be more monumental
that living through this mass hysteria:
or lack of it thereof...
       with this most irritating pain -
          this loose filling... there's a pandemic raging
the supermarkets are running out of bread...
there's no sugar and no flower...
       no bread: no circuses of a football match...
no real gambling involving 22 ballerinas,
horses or dogs...
                                  and here i am...
more bothered with a toothache...
                           what remedy, what remedy?
last time i heard...
                   they use a base chemical ingredient
from cloves for all the anaesthetics in dentistry...
last time i heard...
   if you put a clove on the ill tooth...
                       gently bite down...
                    one down... slobbered...
                 the saliva will open up the remedy...
from this humble clove...
         well... so much for merely culinary
purposes...
                                   indeed... a toothache
lessened... by a clove...
                        now for that whiskey disinfectant
to wipe clean the mouth...
         then some cheap ***** mixed with
aleo vera gel for that oh so precious disinfectant
that... evaporates when smeared onto
the hands...
                 i could be making money from this...
as i heard: bottles are selling for 60+ quid...
n'ah... i like being integrated for my already
miniature role of self with... integrity...
the knitty-gritty of honesty...
                                    who would have thought...
that cloves can alleviate toothache;
after all... there's that whale that swallowed
Jonah to fish for... in this current climate:
      of cough sneeze and woozy;
better still... an oeuvre of the smiths...
           because i never really got into them...
now's a good time like any other...
            girlfriend in a coma...
                            pretty girls make graves...
                     some girls are bigger than others...
            oddly... the music when watching
empty buses plough the streets -
             when empty streets become...
arcades for the winds...
                               and... they are not missing
those arthritis prone in-mid-life joggers...
              well... it's still the right sort of time...
to head on high... and find entertainment in thinking.
Sydney Rain Oct 2013
I once heard of a girl with a lack of muse,
a broken heart,
a razor,
and a noose.
Is it true that pain can make someone change?
The silence is terrifying.
It screams reality.
Eventually that girl got back on her feet.
Found a refuge in the lyrics,
an escape in the beat.
That little girl grew up.
Knew she had to change.
She threw away the razor.
Even changed her ******* name.
She climbed her way to Sydney Rain.
She wont let go of all the pain.
To keep a reminder of awful days.
To build her up to a better place.
She may still have her flaws,
hell, call them her dysfunctions.
But she built a kingdom all her own,
one she wont let crumble.
mEb Jun 2010
Sometimes, I pin-point things.
I break them down single handedly
causing no disruption
to your lack of observation.
This interrupts some significant
social dysfunctions that manifests me daily.
Remorse for things, what things, I have no things.
I have pieces of bizarre delusions
in which I feel I need at the time.
I don’t need these things.
They already exist in here.
Burn them.
They’re already all around me.
Taunting, specifying,
predicting my next move, next thought.
Aroused brain assumptions.
Your still there.
Not noticing.
I need my medicine.
Medication.
Things.
Pill is a noun.
Noun- Person, Place, or Thing.
Never mind that disorganized thought,
I don’t need them anyway.
39 different medications in an 18 year stretch. I'm through.
Moss M Jacques Apr 2024
Here we are
Toy soldiers, Barbie dolls
Monopoly money flying off the shelves
As intentions remain disguised,
A rush hour to nowhere.
Suspicion hangs heavy in the air.
Fingerprints of greed upon the land,
Stain the walls and smear every surface,
Tearing our world apart
Entangling us in a labyrinth of lingering agony.
As financial empires crumble and fall,
We tumble towards a dismal crown.

Here we are
A shot heard around the world
Misdirection concocted with twists of propaganda
A sinister plot to keep us quiet
While economic doom looms large,
Forcing us to gasp for breath in its tort.
We are sliding into a sea of hell,
Crafted with a sinister dusk,
Leaving us trapped in uncertainty.
A bipartisan fakery,
A manufactured reprieve of endless war
Bacchanal Celebration of the uniparty,
To keep us all in the duality
Of a totalitarian doomsday cult of our own making,
With ties to the darkest corners,
Where shadows dance in the hue.
Why did George Orwell paint a future so dire
Of totalitarian control, a world on fire?
To blackmail us into believing
We are incapable of repelling it,
Pressuring us to fear, to tyranny.
Wall Street proclaimed, "Greed is good,"
A mantra repeated, understood,
Molding our minds, shaping our views,
Enforcing belief in capitalism's ruse.
Political speech, a vile roast of reality,
A nonsensical tale of deceit,
Yet, within its twisted words,
Makes us struggle to comprehend our reality.
Revelations of a conning government,
Manufactured divisions run deep,
As secrets too dark to keep.
In the chaos of our unraveling,
We grasp for a glimmer of light,
But find ourselves lost in the darkness
Of a world consumed by blight.
Do The Right Thing, a mirror held to our face,
Amid conflict beyond repair.
We consume the lies, a terrible plight,
Believing we're powerless, as they've said.
Free falling into despair
Believing we're powerless as the moments fly by.

Here we are
We've been conned and betrayed.
In the shadows of towering skyscrapers,
Where dreams were once fashioned from thin air,
A secret kleptocracy aims to divide and deceive,
Bleeding us dry, as we unquestioningly believe
In our American uniqueness
Until we start blaming each other
While everything gets worse,
A dysfunctional elite
Building lies around dysfunctions
Inducing us into believing
Our eroding circumstances are our own,
As they steal our lives, forsaking us to atone.
Fake news media informs us to be angry and tribalized,
Daytime television warns our morality is compromised,
Local news instills fear in our neighbors, near and far,
As we celebrate masked actors, forgetting who we are.
Reality Tell-a-Vision doesn't tell our reality,
Preferably, it shows life's hedonistic strife.
Zombie television tells us the public remains our enemy.
Social media floods with existential rife,
With nonsense conspiracy theories and memes abound,
Telling us we're hopeless in a world so unsound.
On a never-ending track,
An all-time high in the belief that we are helpless,
No matter the bubbles we encase,
Bombarded with existential crises in every space,
A surge in apocalyptic film, literature, and games,
Telling us there's no way out of society's flames,
As we buy cans of Liquid Death, in our despair,
And drink Death Coffee to fuel our inner plight,
In this rotten farce, we see no end in sight.
For our entire lives, we've been led astray,
In a world where our strength is fading away,
Divided against itself in a power play so grand,
As we believe we're powerless.
But in the end, we're left alone,
In a world where truth is overthrown.
As we've been brainwashed with silent screams,
We find ourselves constantly shaking down.
Things escalate wildly in a world gone awry
Where Dr. Strangelove teaches us to stop and comply.
In the collapsed towers, nobody stands,
Only masked actors with bloodied hands
As we hurtle towards an inevitable brawl.

Here we are
Investigating the mountain of lies,
We uncover the truth, rotten to the core,
As vicious beasts roam in our streets.
Smoke and mirrors promise miraculous destinies,
But abandoning us stranded, battered, and frail.
In this desperate state of dying slowly,
Words ring true, screaming at us to wake up.
Yet suspicion clouds every intention,
As we ponder the reasons why.
The fabric of society frays at the seams,
As revelations tear through the veil,
Exposing the rot within our midst.
Our lives are a tangled web of deceit.
O say, can you see?
We are drowning in the sea.
On this moon of deception and decay,
We grasp for a semblance of truth,
But find ourselves drowning in the sea.
O say, can you see?
Did we go to the moon?
Why are we drowning in the sea?
Our Statue of Liberty is sinking fast and deep.
O say, can you see?
I'm begging you; can you see?
In the wreckage of shattered dreams,
We find ourselves lost in the debris,
Victims of a grand illusion,
Where reality is uncomfortable to see.
Terrified, yes, but unafraid to tell,
The tale of our time, the ringing knell
Of corruption and deceit,
We rise, we rise; we must rise above
In the name of truth, justice, and love.
O say, can you see?
              Can you see?
              Can you see?
I listened to an ignorant man speak today, A bias, racist tirade. My ears and heart stung with each syllable of hate he uttered. Is it not sad that in a day such as ours, that persons such as these still exist?

I was incensed at the mere possibility that this fool might think that I approved of such viewpoints and prejudices. But yet, I said nothing to him, I only listened to his goings on and empty justifications as to why he felt this way.

In what light then am I left in? My silence; did it fuel his racist diatribe, Or… was he a tool so that I might use it as inspiration and yet another insight to write this small but nevertheless important piece?

The tools that come to hand come in many different forms. Our inspirations, motivations come from those areas that most times we abhor. Our outrage fuels us to action, I often wonder after such experiences, if not for them then what would I write about?

Oh yes, the Golden field’s of Autumn evenings, the lover’s hand across my chest and brow. The kindness of my fellow man, and his sacrifice. These reflections of pure light.
However, there are moments when one must write of the darkness to rid themselves of it.

Do I justify the actions of an ignorant lout who speaks hate and distrust? Never, But I find myself at an impasse of conscience understanding, Is this hateful thing the vehicle through these words of its own destruction?

Perhaps an inflicted death blow wielded by a poor poet’s pen, to envision a time when thoughts such as these do not exist? What then will the poets write of, what then will be the inspiration, Is it a sin to write of these things? My fear of perpetuating the cause of this discourse weighs heavily upon me.

Is the poet, the writer, addicted to these heartaches and dysfunctions of his fellow man,
No I think not, We are witnesses to the coming of age of this world. In our lifetimes we will walk but a short mile in it; and while here I for one will share such things.

I will battle these questions in my own time and pray for peaceful tongues and cleansed hearts. Cleansed of prejudice and hate.
In what light then am I left in?
NuurSeraph Oct 2014
My marginal dysfunctions like a panther saunter gliding me out to peripheries edge.
We won't comment on loose banter, someone says.
My mind circles the time as the crow flies,
too disturbed for reentry, tweets the parakeet.

Phase out with allegiance to no one,
Phase back in with desperate facade.
I am blank, bleak and broken.

Well...that's just the token to get us back in ...the Dahlia wasn't always black to begin with you know, so many colors remain to absorb our sorrow.

So lost, forgotten and frail...
a ghastly scene so serene and forsaken.
Do not fret my fellow faire, we are ghosts of crimson lore, pathos to the people...morose...together on the edge of forever.

Interlacing fingers, we stand then walk the plank of insanity...who will hold my hand??
The mind is a beautiful act of celebration...
Joseph Martinez Jan 2014
*** is ***
a hint of what's to come
celebration of
emotional dysfunctions
****** disconnect
convoluted nonsense
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2016
some would say that Ashley Montagu was mad..
actually everyone would, eating Chomsky,
then again the English forgot to trill ρ -
for a row row - it's pronounced hollow -
an evolutionary step in the wrong direction -
my learning of English as a language was
incubated by learning history, when i returned
from incubating it, i had no novel,
three years in Edinburgh (said Eden borough)
and i never went to the fringe festival...
nights when i prefer drinking than writing,
my mother is a housewife, i'm guessing
your mother is an aspiring sociologist,
for you the world is a treadmill on max speed,
for me every day means i am kept counting snails...
it's slow... they never bothered the man
where feminism never encouraged perpetuation...
i said i needed cushions, you said i needed stones...
here's a stone with Magdalene, throw it...
throw it at your will... i never had ******* dysfunctions
with ******... THINK ABOUT IT!
why didn't i have ******* dysfunction with ******
but i had them with you? actually, don't think about it...
you might hurt yourself... you probably will.
i swear on the zenith of mount Sinai...
this woman is an Everest... let her freeze to death,
i will not clamour a house to such heights
establishing her as a worthwhile continuum -
the English made the R glutton, forgot to trill it,
the French harked it, rhapsody became hark
po see - we call it the phlegm lettering -
so why did the English on purpose drop the trill
of the tongue rattling? the French kept the harking,
but the English forgot to trill the trrrrrrrrr illion words
unsaid, why? one of those days when drinking is
more pleasurable than writing,.. i kept the narrator
in the laboratory under tight inspection...
he said no characters deviated...
well, there were characters, but nothing
compared to Ivan, Achilles, generic types ready
to start families... the fortunate without none types...
that trilled r is not imagery of bouncing,
it's a case for a drum-roll pendulum...
now i know why i feel so alien in London,
London is an alien entity in England, compared
to Newcastle, or Hull... it's a hallucination...
it's not there... three years and i never went to the Fringe...
theatre land *******... my mother is a housewife,
time's slow slow for me, i don't have the
attachment of keeping up, halfway between
homeless and a monk... i really don't think about
a life like Rousseau's... i prefer the drink...
i just minded the fact that the English once
trilled their rho, then lost it...
that that French still hark their rhos like
rhapsodic fugitives fighting asthma...
it really doesn't matter...
atheism is not that crucial, it's not even that
severing in severance of follow-up engagements...
atheism isn't scary... it's pretty pointless
when you take up a fight against both God
and solipsism.. popularising atheism is a fight
more in the care to erase solipsism than it is to
erase god... atheism meaning an: en-grouping
is more a case of involving an individual
in its affairs, that it is to take affairs with god...
obviously militant atheism failed,
there's no consensus agreed upon to involve
anything but the crowd, the crowd is unnecessary...
politics knows this, the crowd is subterfuge...
the eloquent measure of saying things as they are:
sabotage... this night in particular?
not a lively night, not an inspirational night...
just a night for heavy drinking.
they're looking as much for the solipsist as they are
seeking god... the Gemini of artefacts,
twins introspective that constantly mingle
and never leave a still-life concern for a canvas and a
brush stroke... a second later another baby is born,
we get to keep the shapes, and we get to keep
reminding ourselves that: there are fewer and fewer
stories to tell... replaced by paparazzi epilepsy
of the flash... text when it was once narrative-form...
we forgot the bonfire narrative...
we replaced it with images, flashing images...
for a minute there i was sure we could maintain
encoding sounds, however cryptic and difficult
in the arrangements of letters...
but as i am assured there days, this wasn't to be:
we favoured images, ideograms without skeletons,
and slowly, but surely, we started to speak less
and less, or if speaking we started to experience
the attack of dementia on rhetoric...
there was a meteorite in us... we dampened
intelligence to a chop of the guillotine...
we really did undermine encoding sounds,
we really did undermine encoding sounds...
we really did undermine encoding sounds,
our undermining of encoding sounds created
the parallel of phonetic encoding that gave way
to digital acronyms and :)... this is the desecration
of the temple that would have been built...
this                                     "
is but a butterfly... but a butterfly in a tornado...
when we speak of a lack of painting on canvas,
when we speak of copyrights of handwriting
digital with us universally trapped in
Times New Roman, we speak of what's being defiled...
you can draw a moustache on a Mona Lisa...
it doesn't matter, the Mona Lisa will smile
through it more empowered... but when you desecrate
encoding sounds, not having applied diacritical
acuteness / sharpening the chisel... you have
simply allowed for a wholly immune form of former
escapades into the Caribbean scythe of harvesting trade...
soon the post-office will oblige its status of former
use as neccessary redundency,
soon the serpent eating its own tail will come into view
like a tumble-**** of where competition leaves us:
the last rat begins to gnaw at its own flesh,
the N.H.S. is gone via the Japanese oops,
old age is a problem of advancing sciences,
humanism got ***** for being too human
and not centimetre wide-enough for journalistic
sensibility that kinda wished for dictators even
though it criticised them...
sooner or later our world will become more
two-dimensional that what our immediate
ancestors experienced: a three-dimensional world...
that three-dimensional world will be no more...
reading futurism of the 20th century is like
soft-core ****... 21st realism is so far removed from
these prophets it's like watching communism reinvented,
only worse... the dogma of fierce competition and
enforced individualisation has not prepared us for
nations the size of China, or India...
at least in India street children can meet their Gulliver Oliver
for adventure among the Delhi slums:
put the rich under the microscope, and the poor
under the telescope... you'll hardly find a savanna's worth
of antelopes grazing on the workings of Patchwork Armstrong.
as any working man said: feminism is boring,
well, it's not exactly boring, i come home and my wife
is arguing with me, she says she earns more than me
and that i can't transition into being a house-husband
because the professional historians are restoring knowledge
of the Ice Age that doesn't fit into our Monday to Friday
work pattern paying the rent... no landlords in the stone
ages... evolutionary conscripts we were, by the mammalian
glands were actually insect glands...
in this metropolis few would claim a mammal to be hot blooded...
scurvy lizard tongues worshipping the Idol Babel;
it was never necessarily an architectural feat...
it culminated in what we talked about,
how we sang... you could out-build the pyramids
with the Eiffel... any time you wanted...
but given the wrist-mirror of Chinese ideograms
in matchstick translation... what came was not only
the height of the Dubai sky-scrappers...
but also the tongue that spoke... wheelchair bound
with two tonsils worth of wheels...
it sorta forgot rhyming, and rhymed to
yeah, mm, yeah... gotta ***** my *****
to get a score...
   yeah, mm, yeah... i'd love to endear that masochism
of white girls getting even with their fathers as
to why the black man tilled the cotton fields...
but i'm sorta like... got mouth-***** by the Prussians...
got **** treatment by the Russians...
cut off my genitals cut off by the Austro-Hungarians...
mm, ye'ha! cowboy in the sand gotta make a
camel cry.
Traveler Mar 2019
If I attempted to expose
My many dysfunctions
With words that simply rhymed
My heart would surely ache
As I committed to relate
The faults in my weary mind
What I'm really trying to say
Between these lines is where I fade
And so I survive another day!
Traveler Tim

May we all find enjoyment in another day!!!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzJj5-lubeM
Traveler Aug 2024
I don’t love being wronged but my love still beats strong!
I don’t love to exercise
but I love being fit and alive!
I don’t love sour grapes,
but if they’re good for me
I’ll take a plate.
I don’t love death and gore
and I surely don’t love war.
But I do love a strangers smile, won’t you stop and visit a while?
Traveler 🧳 Tim
niall sheehy Feb 2013
I
This is what I do when I can’t sleep.
Write my hate notes while others dream deep.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
And I’m dysfunction and I’m all dark.
II
I can’t watch my rind wringed anymore.
Between bone and skin
Is a hole where my soul once flowed.
Now floored.
III
Beat back: broken back:
The stain of us.
The vacuum of us.
The timely death of us.
I draw shapes of plight with my pen
dreaming dysfunctions and all dark.
Traveler Oct 2014
Lost in the shadows
Are the building blocks
Of the dark poets

Pre-operational
Innocence
Trying to fit in
But the dysfunctions
Left wounds
And walls within

The ignorance of societies
Left its mark
Condemning
Then branding
The misguided heart

Subconscious reaction
Ideologies that captivate
And disturb the measure
Of normal
Thus
The Dark Poet
Was born...
Lawrence Hall Sep 2016
It’s All About Family

A rush to change into trousers and shirt
Discarding pajamas and morning quiet
And a half-eaten breakfast burrito -
Dear God, the relatives are here again

They never ‘phone; like mayflies they appear
First peeking through the windows, and only then
Ringing the doorbell, breathless with gossip
And detailing their medical dysfunctions

They seem to settle in for the summer
While one’s soul longs for a burrito lost
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
after changing my drinking regime i realised i moved to a different planet... it's days are ~36 hours long, they include an entire night and two halves of two days.

this poem was to be a brief review of a
sample of a book,
the melancholic mystifying melancholy
as something mysterious,
not a noumenon in sight,
just the same bland phenomenon on
repeat, always in the modern age
with urban environments instead
of attacking old men who accomplished
much, instead attacking youth...
it's when he mentioned reading *much

of Foucault's madness and civilisation,
much?! what's much? a lot, most of it...
so it doesn't exactly mean all of it,
and this is a person studying for an MA
(masters in arts)... oh let me tell you,
melancholy in youth spreads like
an Australian bush fire, in youth depression
is actually contagious, a virus of some sort,
old farts don't bother each other in
the same way, moulding each other...
they complain about bad knees,
aches and pains and erectile dysfunctions...
but it's a sad comedy, it's not exactly
a tragedy.. they're laughing with each
other: WE MADE IT! youth can't say
the same, old age used to contain the virus
of depression en masse, it spread
naturally, in varying degrees, but depression
in youth is like A.I.D.S. or something,
talking my old grandfather for long periods
at a time i too thought about jumping
off the roof... yet this is given the comforts
of post-communist retirement whereby
he was comfortable. i too read all of
Foucault, one picking up **** from a dealer
who worked in a hospital and was supplying
lean ***** to rich kids doping...
book in hand, he was sitting on his sofa
playing a computer game, we were both at
the same uni, he was there for business reasons
studying oriental & african studies...
but actually there on business...
he saw me with the book and just said:
oh man, heavy going, yeah? see... i should
write something more on the subject matter,
but there's already a bunch of coalminers
digging in my conscience whether i start apply
self-censorship to the whole debate, accusing
myself of the Orwellian thought-crime;
the great suppressors of vocabulary, who
probably speak fluent regional slang better
standard trans-regional English.
Traveler Sep 2014
She’s dancing and spinning in circles
Her arms open wide
The joy of life shining from her eyes
Her mommy and daddy love her so good
All her aspects so well understood

No dysfunctions, no issues
No wars to be won
Just beauty and perfection
And love by the tons

Unfortunately it’s only an illusion
And the truth is very sad
Her mother’s a low-down ******
She had *** with her dad

She may be coming she may be going
She’s not really sure
Her life is been moving so **** quickly
That her memories are a blur...
A girl I once knew, very sad reality.
Luna Casablanca Nov 2014
Quiet is all I need.
Desiring silence as the critics improvise
their own violins.
The philosophers tune their cello's.
The writers prepare the songs.
All the song says is the truth of where I stand in life.
Praying I'll be ok tomorrow.
How I stand in front of the cold audience
whom have the obligation of peaceful listening.
Many who choose to not open their ears to another sound
will only be alone playing their guitars.
I want the audience to be silent for me.
Learning as they whisper bewildered and stunned.
There are no strings attached.
How the sound of one's insecurity dysfunctions another's quality tune.
Know we are to hear but don't have to do a cover.
Instrumental choice,
one's vision and dream.
Hear me sing,
then tune your cello's, guitars, and violins.
We'll take a chance on our stances in life.
Hear each other and play together.
For in the slightest way,
our beliefs,
are different,
though the sound,
can blend.
Diego Apr 2016
Open your mind and think..
Don't allow our inherent dysfunctions to create disconnections
Cant you see?
Just like you and me
We are the victims of our Fathers; and so are they
The long line of social inculcation - when did this start?

For centuries we made believe that we are the greatest of all species
Unique, intelligent and special in its own way
We have forgotten
We have lost the idea that we are all humans
Sharing the same planet with everybody else

We have let greed stain our minds
Our wisdom - tainted with desires
Bernays knew it, ****** knew, Gandhi knew
Some used this advance to manipulate
and some to emancipate

So think!
Don't let your desire father your manipulation
Don't let your ignorance nurture your fear
Think...
That's what made you special
That's what made you human
You have a mind which may not understand everything - which it should be
But think. Explore

Our world is as broken as it is
But it will heal
I may not live to see it
But I have lived a life with the idea to change it
Imagine. Some people still do..
We are newly discovered obsidian daggers
Covered in obscene diamonds
We had a great time in our scabbards
Until your archaeologists came and found us
We are accents of rhythm
Extracted from a linguists’ worst nightmare
We are apparently humid if not quite human
Ruminating on our naked dysfunctions
We are content to being secret agents
Masters of arguments in surreptitious suspense
We are sweat and salt upon naked backs
That attract you like the golden hues of slumber
The ochre of the jungle is crisper than a hundred dollar bill
Life-force fueled by something new and leguminous
Quetzals bluer than a waterfall or the sky above an igloo
I chased you to the bottom of a cup of coffee
To overcome the fear of drowning in a melancholy mood
Eleni Oct 2019
I shy away
in clouds of self-reflection
that cast shadows over
human nature's clarity.

Reversing a cocoon
my fragile organs, exposed- hang
To display their veiny
functions and dysfunctions.

Transfixed on a cellular level
I am complicated. I am mechanical.
Repeat routines and manage my capital.
Resistance faces dreams that are radical.

Auto-immune to my own feelings
or thoughts- I reject myself.
And neglect the wonder of
just being alive.
Lizzie Bevis Dec 2024
Tinkering hands
Lead to restless minds,
Always seeking
What they might find,
In systems running
Perfectly well,
Please, act with caution,
Results may repel.

Leave alone what
Smoothly flows;
If working gears
Continue to go,
For in the quest
To meddle away,
We sometimes cause
More disarray.

Wisdom lies
In knowing when
To step aside,
To leave again.
For changes made
Without true need
Can plant dysfunctions
Stubborn seed.

If it works,
Then let it be,
Sometimes that's
The wisest plea!
Not all that’s old
Needs to be renewed;
Leave it alone
To see itself through.

©️Lizzie Bevis
A cautionary poem.
In England we have this saying ‘If it ain't broken, don't fix it’ implying that it is silly to try and fix the unmendable, to put it simply…it is a waste of time.
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
****! there's no milk in the house.. never mind... the house has already stressed a want to deviate from the standard English cup-ah... it's not exactly unique... the English way of contaminating black tea with a squirt of cow *****... sorry... juice... there are plenty of stories surrounding this practice in Siberia... among... lactating women... if Siberia is on show... then the whole of Russia too... if i were ever to visit the United States... Tokyo conquers my imagination over New York... there's the Belgium of L.A.... i'm simply not that interested... oh the natural north American continent i'm very much interested in... but not so much with what has layered itself over it... i'd still rather see the Kamchatka peninsula... the volcano "avenue"... ****! there's no milk in the house... the household decided to switch to a green tea: a yerba māté (or... m'ah t'eh)... lime infusion for some... IM-BIR (ginger) infusion for others... no milk in the house... which implies that i'll have to buy a pint of milk on the sly... and glug it down... in between finishing off an ice-cream on a stick... raspberry: rhapsody ber-e! or bear: é (yes... no exclamation mark).. milk the hooves of my trot... the Sri Lankan rubber of my 23cm tires pumped up to 80+ Pascal(s)          (?)... if it's not a 35cl of whiskey is must be a pint of milk... goat milk is overrated... by all clinical standards of wholesale... it's nothing short of what's cow: long-life... excessive pasteurißed milksch... ah: some relief in german when scribbling in  Ęgliš - phonetically: with a "trick" of hiding the N: lost an IN(?) inquisitive tone: tier above... the monotone of narrative... oh... hiding one arm of the tetragrammaton is easy... sharp quest: q: ooh... oh! i seem to have forgotten what i wanted to scribble in the elder-tongue... maybe it might come back to me... after all... there's an undercurrent of: congregation but: the aliases are awry... we do not share the same etymological roots... der körper schlafen: solange der schatten: getanzt! jetzt! jetzt ich merken: von die
unmittelbarkeit of thought with short-term memory! this one time... the devil didn't come with either fire or with the perfumery stressing sulphur... at best he was gagging to add a zest of: zitrone-limette-orange... perhaps... just perhaps... der teufel vergessen (to forget is also a memory) zu bringen das feuer... aber! er tat bringen RAUCH und (the definite plural article for) SPIEGEL! i learned my lesson... upon each visit to Ypres.. seeing the graves of supposed ethnic brothers... the anglo-parade of "individualism"... and how the Detusche were... burried: en masse... no robin: now sparrow... designated their song over the seemingly marble stones of the named... but when it came to how the Germans were... folded... brick-on-brick... a haunting reminder... the sparrow / robin always deemed it necessary to... haunt a tree with a song... for the tree to escape the polyphony of the wind... we're talking a ****** riddling... empathy with the neighbours of Europe... push from Asia that wasn't the HOO'NS... the English had a Spanish torrent: back in the day... odd... how easily the English has capitulated having invited their former colonies to the sandpit... their native women have been barren: without a sense of agency...  they still capitulate... like... there's no like quiet like it... the Spanish armada failed like the Mongolian fleet failed when the invasion of Japan was being scrutinised... why wouldn't i somehow: pity the German soldiers of world war I... entombed in mass graves... sure as **** & the constipation that comes prior... i figured it out... just today... when men... single... and send their ******* dysfunctions: clean-cut-and-perfect... they take the shot of themselves... AFTER... they have *******... obviously it looks larger... with all the blood drained from the abilities of the scribbling hand.. they take the vanity shot after they have *******... nothing worth of note: prior...

(the devil forgot to bring the fire... but... he did bring smoke und mirrors!) i mentioned this somewhere... in: alt... etwas güt! (not... gat: not gut... my gut? good... softer... german-esque) Englisch ist ein späterzunge: it made sense... when there was an Empire.. but... now? ******* rhubarb... Rue-Barb... graffiti or no graffiti? that technical observation... no articles... included... when adjectives are being "stressed"? perhaps only in german... in all the german tongues: this over-stressing of the pronouns... of definite... indefinite articles... in the ****** tongue the pronoun I... makes are rare curtain drop... Freud was right about the vanities of men... Copernicus... Darwin... but he faltered... citing himself... some languages have pronoun exclusion parameters... you can't change a grammar... while nouns are asexual i English they are "sexed" up in other languages... but you'll find it rare: to spot the ****** use the pronoun: JA... i... ich... isch... whether speaking or writibg... in terms of language... England? *******... wenigsachsen! truly... *******... like i was addressed: silly ****... verpiss dich: wenigsachsen!


i had a "friend" once: a fwend... more like someone
i shared an occasional drink with:
then again... i did most of the drinking
while he staged most of the awkwardness when
i'd: from time to time... turn into a silent boor...
anyway... i was lazy and he was fat...
or i was fat and he was lazy...
                     by one stroke of the blue moon he
thought it was wise to lose some weight
by going to the gym...
never a good idea to shed off a dozen or two or
three pounds by going to the gym...
by all means: turn to the bicycle...
turn to swimming... turn to push-ups...
stomach crunches? eh... like Socrates remarked:
i like my stomach lamb-tender...
makes it easier to continue sparring the ol'
liver with a southpaw cider before noon...
but it was never a good idea to hit the gym, bro...
to shed some weight...
now... well... he's definitely slimmer...
a no-fat content milkshake sort of a shadow
that he now casts...
but... eh... gym bro... you won't find my lifting
weights... cardiovascular exercises since:
it's the closest you get to imitating ***...
plus... when you're the wolf with the three little
piglets on a red light at a traffic junction:
all hot & bothered: heaving and hyping up
the loss of breath...
ping... go the ******* of some traffic collision
of a woman... bad bragging rights...
hell: if no one's going to use me up
for some luvyy-dubby-teddy-bear-*******
i might as well: self-deprecate myself...
- you won't find me lifting weights because
this "friend": fwend of mine has exchanged
a weight problem for a... skin problem...
nothing dermatological you see...
it's the excess of it...
   if he only listened to me and shed the weight
via the cardiovascular "method"
his torso wouldn't be looking like a interspecies
mutation of how a dried prune turned into
a phallus and magically ****** an elephant's
******...
just saying... swim... press-up... cycle...
by all means...                 hell: even explore the mind
while taking to a marathon length walk...

p.s. for anyone who's a W. H. Auden admirer...
perhaps i was too... perhaps i still sort of...
well... it's not terrible important...
but you know how homosexuals can be
these scalding / scolding ******* behind each
other's backs... or at least that's the impression
i get having revisited a passage from
Harold Norse's autobiography...
i reread it to remind myself that...
                      i might leave traces of conversational
overtones... i might not rhyme:
or bother much with: tech-niq(ue) -
although: in (brackets) - surds...
                          you write them to differentiate
what would probably some out
to tek-nick: although the -nick would extend
into meek with an N -
but it's worthwhile to remember that...

i had another "friend": fwend... he complained
that i wrote in word salads...
last time i checked: he wasn't fond of a slice of cucumber:
either...
so much for friends: "fwends"...
i'm itching at 35 years old
and i'm itching for...
beside the prostitutes that give me
the most pristine smooches...
purpose... yes... that grand: "thing":
i simply don't have a noun for what's
already readily available...

chin low: forehead: high!
(kinn niedrig:
stirn hoch!)

                rotkehlchen und / oder spaatz
auf mein fahne!

i forgot to have friends...
i have my shadow to keep me company...
ich haven mein shatten zu
halten mein... kompaine...
    i die: Adolfo: KLAR
es ist nicht: Portugiesisch:
no leash? nein: leine: or geese..

                a cat might as-alles-goot...
fall asleep...
in an around a bookshelf of
unread Rousseau...
     **** the ego... **** the most ineffective crux...
the lost pagan: the hyper-inflated
intellectual Hebrew...

came the res cogitans... so too must have come
the res venus...
i find the lack of fear of deity suspicious
surrounding the Muslim bravado...
lasts for about one...
oink-oink-...
prickling at the mythological blonde:
by the time we're through:
there might be the rarity of the ginger
Pakistani...
or the bleached beauty of Afghanistan...
the mythological blonde escapade...

thank god i''m not reproducing...
now allowance of daughter by my side...
side to sire... what?
licking out some... sorry... you're not playing
jazz: some ******* ***-hole?!
i'm glad to not be in the race
of rats...
i'm bowing out: no one said it wouldn't
be painful... it will be...

i rather die the death of a wolf
with his teeth being pulled out...
than die the death of...
estranged relatives...
social cohesion race mingling *******...
it was so nice... so nice...
when black people ****** black people
before the blakc boy discovered the white
girl...
to hell with her... as Genghis Khan
sufficed to surmount...
if it didn't happen on the shore of the Danube...
then... it didn't happen: at all..

no... i'm just tired of how the English see
***... in Belgium you could buy a *****-mag
like you'd be watching a girl put on a full show
of cow-******* and a sack: without
the hurt feelings of a niqab:

well... i get the Muslims... somehow...
they're just about ripe in being synonymous
with... French footballers...
that's what happens when you don't
fear your deity:
you become... sort of... shrapnel...
tooth-itches:
not: teeth-itching... hell...
not (a) tooth-itch...
pseudo-grammatical post- Reconquista of Spain...
the ****-
-stanis still think of themselves as:
because of the Ummah: we... the Berbers of North:
Af- Af-... ath... aph... who knows?

the Muslims are... oblivious to having
a fear of their deity...
it's not like... i sacrifice my *******...
to ******* freely...
because... i don't exactly require:
a woman on a leash... a niqab might work...
but...
Muslims are yet to evolve to fear their deity...
after the fear comes
the secular apathy...
like the one staged by the Hebrews during
the holocaust...
a god: what god?
capitulating English folk...
because Birmingham sings aloud: loot!
hey presto... it feels like:
there's looting to behold...
between you an me...
i don't mind the future or:
copper-necks
and Brazilian mulattos...

100 years from now...
the details of a Hapsburg dynasty will be worth...
the face of F.D.R. on a dime...
equivalent or: there: about...

as is due: i must: applaud the victor:
i'll die towing the remains of the day:
a sunset come the tide toward
the Faroe Isles...
where i'll breath my last into
fathoming the wind...

dodo project: last introspection...
by no god or genes...
let these people have what they utmost
deserve...
the humidity is getting to me...

i'll just... sort of die... admiring the corpus
of either the Janissaries
or the Mamluks....

to heave as much as a woman;
to enter the confines of a storm:
i 'd sooner fathom
the depth of the angered sea...
than... quest...
for the benevolence of a woman...
i've teased the depths...
i've angered the tides...
i've become:
the anchoring of the shore!

tomorrow the world ends...
thank god i'm no safe-keeping of either
Shakespeare or the Quran...
why?
toward my own privacy...
i'm sure at least one *******...
will want be revived:
just one... that might want to keep me alive..
just one? timid bunch?

have it your way: camel-jockey...
have it your way,,,
like any new-found-riches of an Arab
undermining a Bangladeshi..
**** the Arabs...
leave 'em in their...
whatever an Arab "thinks":
most probably something less than a Pakistani thinks of...
ahem: 'em...

**** the H'arabs!
best begin a reworking of: no oil involved...
with the ****'ites...
Persian pirate... to hell with the poodle
masters of the parasitical Sunnis.
Yenson Jul 2019
The fakes all line up to jive to the twist
perchance the only semi-skill they claim a boast
hopping, skipping, legs akimbo dreary brains on fire
men, women, boys girls lovers, wives and husbands, oldies even
here they turn, there they twist, we've got a love, so beautiful and true
we've got a life so happy and fulfilling, we've got friends for life
we've got money to do all the things we want to do and more
we've just made love, it was so good, best ever always
Its all a sham, by pretenders in a make believe void
sad unhappy people, hearts heavy, minds a flamed
poverty, debts, illnesses and diseases, pains stored
unstable, unable, drunkards and preaching pedos
smack face and addicts, impotent lovers galore
virginitis and gingivitis, infected tongues too
small ones with money, big ones gone dead
hate and troubles, fears and dysfunctions
riddled the dancers and twisters jiving
but the pretenders are out rolling
skipping and prancing right on
oh, what a crowd, what a time
come join the party and hop
make it up and drown
your strife and pain
haul your miseries
find a scapegoat
this is therapy
for the poor
for the sick
for the mad
for the unhappy
for the depressed
come pretend your bad away
come wish bad for someone else...
Yenson Dec 2021
The mirth's of the four seasons
the inglorious choruses of discontents from malcontents
craving attention and dying for reactions
some go with crossbow to **** the Queen
while some sit in ***** lives scripting shotguns and takedowns
from the unhinged to the ridiculous
carrying ready-made woes from self manufactured dysfunctions
in the drudgeries of nowhere alleys
and the choking pickings of easy street dystopia
the answers fans in neon lights
blame it all on twin sets and blue rinse
blame it all on Goldberg's and Steinberg's
blame it all on ermine and coronets
tis the tale of lost and stolen minds kept in the dark
leaving them panting with desires
stoked rubbed fingered and heat up to fevered pitch
they are moist and hooked begging for release
craving attention and dying for reactions
KorbydAngyle Sep 2021
People prepare to make spiritual gifts...
- thoughts, the nether realm

Makes, breaks, or cuddles. Their defiance of chivalry
On tithes, on prophecies
Administering the number 1

Brevity, 'Oh' great machines spin divine
Allowing of and according
T he solution had a name,.. names, ....namesake?!

Witness fortune,
A material witness, the only, one of only,
mutual balance of what can and what can't,
   senses hale conditions...

I'm getting out...
We're getting out!
Our completion of Absu valiance...
Whatsoever compels this witness
  to the doors that provide...

Is in the chaos and dysfunctions....
We know life itself to be very asinine..
Our relationship debates what it means to achieve...

What decisive, incision.
Glorifying belittled foundation?...

Gives deathgrind & delivery- for our nearly musical sought answers...

They fly, they carry in a flurry, they act mundane,
Yet, truth consequential. No plausible sane, deft, debate & theory

Mutual cages, mutual musics
Make peace with, those, who hold you
because all is about to occur
   as theory...

(Halt creation ! Determine different destiny?! Dare the deviances!)
No infinity

Creation... reverie. What now does a charade of one's self escape to... For a world belittled
Unseen insult with incompetence...for prayers beset....?!

Perhaps the hands of passing thoughts- kiss the pits of those who where dolt?
Whose and then why?
What... that alight is the  only question...
Why unclean?!
Yenson Dec 2021
The mirth's of the four seasons

the inglorious choruses of discontents from malcontents

craving attention and dying for reactions

some go with crossbow to **** the Queen

while some sit in ***** lives scripting shotguns and takedowns

from the unhinged to the ridiculous

carrying ready-made woes from self manufactured dysfunctions

in the drudgeries of nowhere alleys

and the choking pickings of easy street dystopia

the answers fans in neon lights

blame it all on twin sets and blue rinse

blame it all on Goldberg's and Steinberg's

blame it all on ermine and coronets

tis the tale of lost and stolen minds kept in the dark

leaving them panting with desires

stoked rubbed fingered and heat up to fevered pitch

they are moist and hooked begging for release

craving attention and dying for reactions
KorbydAngyle Sep 2021
People prepare to make spiritual gifts thoughts the nether realm

Makes, breaks or cuddles their defiance of chivalry
On tithes, on prophecies administering the number 1
Brevity, 'Oh great machines spin divine allowing of and according the solution had a name, names ....namesake?!

Witness fortune, a material witness, the only, one of only, mutual balance of what can and what can't, senses hale  conditions...

I'm getting out... We're getting out! Our completion of Absu valiance...
Whatsoever compels this witness
  to the doors that provide

Is in the chaos and dysfunctions.... we know life itself to be very asinine.. our relationship debates what it means to achieve...

What decisive, incision, glorifying belittled foundation?...

Gives deathgrind and delivery for our nearly musical sought answers...
They fly, they carry in a flurry, they act mundane, yet truth
consequential no plausible sane deft debate & theory

Mutual cages mutual musics, make peace with those who hold you because all is about to occur as theory...
(Halt creation determine different destiny?! Dare the deviances, no infinity?!)

Creation, reverie... What now does a charade of one's self escape to... for a world, belittled, unseen, insult with incompetence...for prayer beset....?!

Perhaps the hands of passing thoughts kiss the pits of those who where dolt? Whose and then why? What... that alight only question... Why unclean?!
A little out there... but I had a motif in mind, the disparate yet good intention of all humanity. That they get snuffed by denials. Yet, we all exist to accentuate and achieve what there can be!

— The End —