King of the lions
Roars for roast *****
Of course
Wants corpse
Of the worse
Wilderbeast
Feasts for fuel
To protect his pride
The love of game
Name’s his bride

Hunts
As the evader of horns
With
The stealth of a cat
And
The strength of a bull

Fighting the pull of gravity
At every chance

Bountiful leaps
With
Bounties on head
Headstrong
Beyond boundaries
The founding
Of land

Faults
Full surface
Still proud
Loud
As the rock
That protrudes
As a cliff

Men hang
When they try
To lift
Their spirits
As high
As his
But fall
Under the expectations

did you buy all of this on credit
and can you do without
going to ceremonies for awhile
look what higher learning
and empty rituals have given you
a distrust for humanity
and all that's truly valuable
are you a nihilist or a solipsist
what a life to be so twisted
like an elliptical esophagus
so strange the way we spell things
what would we do without
spellcheck or a dictionary these days
is a thesaurus a dinosaur or a literary device
the swelling went down
right in time for your dialectical revival
while didactic strange attractors are strangely repellent
selective attackers leave your marriages despondent
disparaged orthodontists leave fluids on your face
still you wipe your chin with sandpaper
and leave greasy finger stains in their place
fluoride is a bargain complete with its own argument
and quite often batteries are not included
but that doesn’t mean you’ll never use them
for what's a *** toy to do
if its lacking its adjacent latex compartments
or if you're really just not in the mood
i guess this human body will have to do
grooving to the music is all about our choosing to
becoming outdated or faded like a tax evader
these equations are meaningless
when you are fermented with libations
if you drink more amber liquid would you be negated
relevant for a moment and then
just as quickly discarded as a piece of paper
the receipts we diligently saved
are just as well used to light your fireplaces

John James Stanley Whyte
why would you not
do what was right
man of the cloth
man of the sea
(at least in uniformity)
privileged hypocrite
evader of consequence
Doctor of Divinity
all that's divine
about you, is me

Used my mother
because you could
refused to acknowledge
you're in my blood
was it due to the class divide
that you found it so easy
to throw us aside?

Whenever she wanted
to punish me
she'd list the ways
I took after you
say I was created
in your image
say that your visage
was mirrored in me
that the nose I hated
was exactly like yours
and that was hard to take

She showed me a cutting
someone sent to her
from the Scotsman I think
or perhaps some local rag
from Edinburgh, where you were
saying you'd been bound over
for indecent exposure
from the window of your Manse
where you stood naked
though whether ***** it did not say

And she'd beg me
not to turn out like you
and I would ask
in my innocence
what she meant by that
"He's a ladies' man" she'd reply
and I had no clue
what she meant by this
yet even then
the idea of nakedness
sent a tingle up my spine
though I didn't like
what I had to show
felt it wasn't really mine

You had a life of comfort
while ours was hand to mouth
did anything ever stick to you
did your conscience ever twinge
did you ever even wonder
what became of me?
I'm not sure why I never yet
tried to track you down
perhaps it shows my utter contempt
or on the other hand
maybe I felt being rejected once
was once more than enough
and a second time would be
two more than I should take
yet at times I wonder
what fate had in store for you
because if your karma
didn't catch up with you
it sure as hell got me

Cynthia Pauline Jones 23/9/2013

I wish to define you,
As a passage of time.
A pageless memory,
With words on no line.

Yet too strong for,
A definition you are.
Like grasping sunshine,
From an exploding star.

So in my mind,
Vaguely you'll stay.
Understandings evader,
In which labels dismay...

As a kid I was an accomplished storyteller
an evader of consequence.
As an adult it was a little similar,

but lately, I’ve found more story with truth
intertwined with unexpected twists,
and immersive but unfinished narratives,

which gave space for imagination,
for permission for grace to flower
in familiar but unexpected colour.

And sweet fragrance.

I have always been a storyteller.
A teller of my stories.
And they’re unfinished,

with more fragrance to come.

Label me a radical, a criminal, a ******* liberal
Eyes are critical and logical, thoughts are cynical
I am lethal, I am suicidal, maybe homicidal

Your fealty to the wealthy is filthy
This city made of many is ******
Somebody over fifty makes the money

Won't get better can't even send a letter
Careful if you tread here below is a shredder
Its a tax evader tears apart people and paper

One ******* on the roof looks to the ******* on the floor
Profits through a glass roof raining shards onto the floor
"Stop It" "It Hurts" "Where's the Proof" "Here's the Door"

No money, no ***, just drugs
So funny, so psychedelic, just dregs
Get money, get ***, just a wallstreet ****

******* if you don't care ******* if you don't believe it
***** to be you below getting ****** and no one gives a ****
***** to be you above ******* without consent, leave a cheap tip