We’re skipping stones
On still waters
That might
Be better left alone

We’re replaying songs
For our needy souls
That know
The words by heart

We’re catching glances
Of subtle signs
That possibly
Know the way

We’re easy times
Of years gone by
That familiarness
Never fades

We’re hopeful souls
Of our imperfect world
That maybe
Someday is our day

you invite her in,

as she knowingly falls into your subliminal abyss.

she gnaws on her pale pink lips,

almost violently enough to cause crimson blood to drip.

no longer is she timid,

because she’s not naive, and neither are you.

she stares up at you with those bright, yet jaded eyes,

tearing you apart as you tug at the fragile lace that encompasses her waist.

calloused fingertips graze against collarbones,

then silently discovering their way here and there.

she inhales the sweet atmosphere that surrounds,

opening her eyes just wide enough,

capturing the sullen skies that threaten to collapse above.

but the comforting familiarness in the empty inches that lie between your ribs,

make her feel at home.

I'm the gun
But you're the trigger
Set me off at any moment
And watch me explode
And leave a path of destruction in my wake.
But I guess I don't live in America
Because I have no right to bear arms
To protect my heart from being shot
By your trigger fingers,
Those same fingers
That wrap around my throat
Like a boa constricting
Tighter tighter tighter:
I don't know if it's the
overwhelming feeling of familiarness
when our naked bodies join together
like the two missing pieces of a puzzle
or the lack of oxygen to my brain
That's making me dizzy

If they could, if they won't
Steal my thoughts
That keep me company
It is like time stopped
Every thing fond of
Came to a stand still

If they could, if they won't
The stillness, the familiarness
of my surroundings
Squeeze the self into oblivion
But will they let me be

Writing is therapy
For the hollow and curious
I dream Ink Pots and quills
That is what stirs and thins
my viscous blood
If they could, if they ought
Let them know
I'm a seed

26th/August/2024

where did i meet her?
where did i...       meet her?!
i wonder:
as i find christ the historical
not the mythical being
the individual too
and i wonder
upon the death of the Pope in England
like the birth of the Queen in the Vatican
i guess we are tanking
engines and minds
and i was once a child among nomads
of the world
and i am not a citizen
of the world
like a Cosmopolitan Greek said
so some Ancient Greek Philosopher
i am the Nomad of this World
Citizenry comes at a Price...
i can't remember his name
but i was called in the dead
of night
how did i meet her
reading the Dune Saga
watching youtube Polish cinema
trying to fall asleep
i think i meet and met her there
no wait:
i still sell it
as i met her on a poetry
website
but here the lowest low
the Firs Supper
Table
and what upon it?
one candle
and one glass of wine
white
and i was at the last supper when
i tried to talk St Juda(s)
out of it
i was the singular-plural possessive
and the the plural article
there is a third article in English
A- -THE- -S

             the last time i had straight
gin was yesterday and
she loves talking to me
and Martin Luther King Jr
is a train hurdling black hbistory
forgotten
the drown trodden the conspired democracy
of the ordeal gave us
the work-outcasts...
and there is great ordeal in the Lung of London
but this circus of the individual plight
i met her elsewhere
and i knew
who wrote what
i said christianity had to employ the devil
at the table....
whether before the ordeal
or after:
come the Resurrection
the devil was invited
to Lay Judgement upon the Death of Juda(s)
for so many years
that in English my Polish
and my Polish my English...
Glass Glee
Gloss Toss McGuire Irish Pope
we need an Irish Pope
we had a Polish Pope
we had countless Italian Popes
how about from Puerto Picco
aims fat *** at the throne
and says:
i'm an apostle: so i heard
MAtthew the Apostate Apostole...
who wrote the book of the illiterate
or perhaps grafitti artz... fartz...

i think i met her on night shifts
while going on a date with her
in...
Vatican City and Surf the Tides
of the Thames:
***** thoughts of the water...
i implore you:
there is champagne in this water
and some wine
but i think i met her there
on a date to the cinema
i imagine that
if all the Nations under the Banner POPE
and that under banner PRESIDENT
TSAR=PRESIDENT
and DRAGON-ONE-PRESIDENTE!
Al DENTE!
1L Ll 11 ll 1l l1
7 carrots: two gems...

           the :idea: a "form"
came upon a high of conversation
but we need an Irish Pope
and if no Irish Pope will Arrive
we will have to forget history
and the arrival of the Polish Pope
so clingy to his throne
i'm shaking until i will be done...
the first Pope in Retirement
then the Pope DEath-Crusader
south American
and imagine looking at the fueds
of the King of Kings against
their respected kingdoms...
and crowns i still see:
in the gob of the gargoyel govlket
gobldet
goblet
       fire etc. tutti frutti!

                        we need an Irish Pope next
i said to the Irish girl Yvone
and i was like?
you want to poison out the false priesthood
of the false prophet
then take christianity
and think it ANTI...
take the same items and spin the world
against them...
christianity is historical
therefore it is open to universal narration
therefore if i... rock the ******* boat...
i am catching more fish!
imagine the illiteracy of the writers
of the gospels:
no: they were written for them
like the Quran is the best religious text
of Femaleness : familiarness:
death sentences Us from I's...

in the orbit of IOUs... in orbit:
what has been resolved
you
and
me

you and me
what has been resolved
that death took a mirror
and labyrinths were spawned:
but you can take christianity
at your peril
there are still so adamant of the truth
behind it:
i said: it was HAwaii...
so not really America:
more like... Polynesia... i want to live there..,

the mere thought of ***** would
have torn us:
that rash you think might be everyone blushing
i spun the wheel
and came the Catholic Politics
of a Pope that's Queen King and President:
if you think about hierarchies
and the modern world
and you think about Tibet
you think about the Vatican
when you start thinking
about the West, culturally, verbally...
      society's elder...
when Journalism throws you societal scary norms
and in the same newspaper
echochambers
you allow newspapers enough date
and people employed in PRINT
like Whitman journeyman printer
i wonder for blood my ink inked tool?
just think yourself the Anti-Monaco
mind residential of the the Vatican City of the
Celestial Ground Workers Uniform
something or other:
you find yourself in the Vatican democracy:
the Pope just died....
are we having elections?
are we looking for the... BUDDHA...
not that i am competing:
but from the Man-Child antics...
and to which count (0,0)
of (0) negating-negation
the res per se... oculus pro oculus...
the octopus:
i wonder how this theocracy is unlike
the monotheisms of the orient
of the people
you don't know how
Cambridge was founded?
in Ocford
over some bad wine at the tavern
and the murderers of Oxford:
intellectual Luciferean triumphant...
i say that's how Bologne Rolls...
maybe a car... twice a donkey...
there must be
an Irish Pope
just to give this last breath
this last gear
a dying thread...
it needs a last goodbye
it needs a death "our father"
and it needs it political...
like how the President of the United States
St Peter blindly listened...
so maybe some old ***** died
and Charlie was less playdough and more
playwee...
    but all this clarity bust:
and dog just falling asleep counting chickens
clucking
and how many dentists would mind
to change the arithmetic
the Pope is dead and i was almost dreaming
it and when
he ventured into prison, overcrowded...
on a wheelchair
you know the myth of the old elephant
when walking from the herd
and dying alone
and nailed into one...
just the Irish Pope would do after the South American
i think Europe needs an Irish Pope...
it had the Irish American KKK JFKKK
so we now need an Irish Pope
who will be ASSASSINATED
like the POLE ALMOST WAS
when he undermined nCommunism
and i think gave Capitalism a PArasite PRism...
the dark state of the people
living in England as ghosts
the Welsh, the Scots, the Irish...
and what the Hell was
first the Romans
then the Anglo-Saxons
then the Vikings
then the Normans
and then whoever we thought defitting
and perhaps there were some of us
alligned
away from the ruling class
and their paupers and their underclass
and there's me thinking
about living in England
and especially London by demographic
i'm thinking
that i'm living among the Welsh,
the Scots and the Irish
and that Englishness is a playdough
doll of thought
when you have people who cite
their origins with Alrfred's and Rocks in Sword...
because i must be living
on an Island
that's stricking a role Alphabet:
Afghanistan:
i allow the res extensa:
in the mundus-extensio
and the world happens and i enter a stage
of the world-happening
world-happening: dasein imploded...
wiederkehrendereignis...
zufall-passieren
happenstanc­e-happen
and there was talk of the French Pope
whoever is elected Pope
will have to confide with the Anti-Pope
who in my sight of history
and i believe in history
i believe in tomorrow
history dictates so
that the next Pope will have to be
of either IRissh or French Ancestry...
i believe so...
i was ast a football match but
all throughout i was thinking about it
and my wife believes in the belief of christianity
yet i believe in the historical world and time impetus
christianity is:
as something that transcends religion
in that it can be a lived experience
therefore:
the gospels were written by the devil
who asked Thomas to doubt
the devil was still alive licking Thomas' ear
asking for van Gogh St Peter
and what happened to Juda(s)
when the Empires crumbled and dust of a thousand
became a fleck and diadem of sand
in the unit of one...
i was still the tongue
in the ear of Thomas
when you sat at the table
with my glass of wine filled
and a candle
and how stagic a deliberate magical act
did with reality in images
resonance disruptive
like i called them:
the devil's dozen
and if there was a man, 13th:
how could humanity sound so shallow
but if illiterate Muhammad
and unlike Socrates the illiterate
from low society
image Christ not being a friend of the low people
but a friend of the high people
and the trouble was with Translating Socrates
into Christianity:
because that's how it happened
the metaphors of the rich bleed
now that the rich are so numerous and over nothing
because that's how time will
become Auschwitz-Golgotha...
but imagine if in those days
the exceptional people were illiterte fishermen:
literally: and no sophists...
who would not convince people:
oh my day and night so literal now!
imagine...
literally but christianity's images
of sophistry for mortal gains does not
give guidance to thinking
beyond that brief ordeal:
because it can't be translated
how much i want to chew on ****** and bite some ***...
but i protest
reality is less of a hell without
*******
reality is less of a hell without
*******
reality is less of a hell without
*******.

Smells like teen agony, and the familiarness stays on scarred
Away from spirits being free
Living in destinies beyond your feet
Walking paths beyond comprehension
That is all might and a symbol of peace