Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed cult

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, yo bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's c

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH1

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin invadin he was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place, as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning og every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.

Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu

Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere

Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king

Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere

Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere

Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere

Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere

Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty

Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad

Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans

Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals

Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak

Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd

Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show

Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched

Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale

Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted

Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged

Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving

They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest

They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans

Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money

Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay

Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?

Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution

Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers

Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals

Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists

Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists

Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution

Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake

Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere

Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs

Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf

Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules

Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu

Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?

If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu

First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu

Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care

billboard's calligraph --
past the haze of Manila infested
by car sprawls and belching machines.

magnanimous treatise of tarpaulins,
people chin-up asking God
with askance

something like this
"o god make this bearable
like a mound of fresh fruits
from ****** labour."

maniacal sensurround:
earth-shattering frequency
of footsteps trampling the mouth
of monolith shadows - the peak
of this quake is our complete silence.

rain's catharsis in effect
sousing us in the blood of unreal light.
this diastolic shrinkage
jamming the beat of constricting vessels.
the adrenaline surges
within the dermis of this pretension.

a collective of tired beings heeding
the recherché of voice metamorphosing
into form, a dagger-butterfly
paring us skin to bone, cranial
to visceral, soul to nothing -

catapult of a trajectory spit
plummeting in eased-up pace
from Taft Avenue flyover
to a subjugated wagon of scraps
and empty wine bottles.

today's paper reads:

"Palace hits hiring
   of **** dancers"

fancying to fall right in the
spanked curved of this
insatiate melodrama - something
  prayer could not save from
this land's mutinous ignominy.

   we resume to fulfill our madness,
hundreds of tack-headed people
  rolling down the streets of Makati,
drenched with rain's trilling aftermath.

squinting to look at
  no sun, only the grieving of skyscrape,
thumbing down unidentified objects
  in the depth of loose pockets,
    desperate for home.

Cardboard box under flyover
Canvas tent in an alleyway
Sleeping bag in small caves
That's our home for today

Thousands of young homeless
All down to our cut and cap
A generation of people like us
All over our own English map

We're ripping safety nets away
Leaving them out in the cold
Rotting their young bodies daily
Harming their brave fresh souls

We can take away their demons
Give them some chances to live
Allow them a future to be proud of
I'm sure that's not too much to give

I try to quell my fear
As the keys jingle in my hand
It's just a drive to the metro station
A drive that was completely unplanned

I slide into the drivers seat
Seat belt on, keys in the ignition
'I can do this' I think
This is, to the roads, my initiation

My father sits besides me
He's at his absolute calmest
My sister sits with a steeled expression
As if bracing for a raging tempest

I enter onto the main road
With a bit of a ****, we're on our way
I shift to third and start to relax
Today is going to be good day

Just as my confidence grows,
We encounter a little bit of traffic
Back to second gear,  we go
Oops, I just ran over a brick!

With papa's advice egging me on
We continue our journey
A formidable flyover looms before us
I tell myself to not be jittery

We enter a sea of slow moving cars
I'm just praying I don't stall
But alas! I do. Quickly, lets go!
I don't want to be honked at by all

I know an underpass will come next
Its just another hurdle to cross
I clutch the steering wheel tightly
Can I really do this? I'm at a loss

I try to suggest a different route
My father shoots down that idea
Failure is not an option
Message received loud and clear.

I pass the underpass without a hitch
My destination is on the left
Indicator, shoulder, switch lanes and stop
In a movement which I hope was deft.

I turn off the car and put the handbrake up
I did it! Hip hip Hurray!
I grin as I stand and watch
The car I drove drive away

Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed culty.

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, your bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH!

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin' invadin; he, was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place,
as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future, then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and
the meaning of every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE
the every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me, drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.

Death and its mournful tidings
Obituaries and eulogies, read
Black ties and black veils, all in rows
Surround this shell and the open earth
The cold, damp wind sashays through and through
Memories, half a century old are lost and forgotten
A flight of geese overhead, perform a last flyover
Victory in death
Vestiges of family, say farewell and Godspeed
Tomorrow brings colder and damper weather

Still heart
Like a pond
Whose secrets
Lie deep beneath

A girl walks
Alone
Through city streets
Beneath the flyover

In the meadow
Of the soul
A heart flutters
Like wildflowers

At her feet
A beer can
Rattles by
In the wind

A swan appears
In silhouette
Against a sky
Awake with promise

She spies the man
A derelict
Beard red with grey
Eyes so hungry

A dark cloud
Appears
It stains
The blue

She rolls up
Her sleeve
He passes
The needle

A petal falls
Red like blood
Lands on the pavement
She spits on its presence.

He is a myth that I have to believe in
A song that no one sing
A 'Merak' for every children
A morning star for every human

He is a miracle
He is heavenly bird
Dreamed of clouds
But had forgotten how to fly

Let me be your wings
To help ease your pain
That help you flyover when the storm comes

Dad...
You may be thousand of miles away from me
But you are still the first thing in my mind

Making a stopover at the Bow flyover
finding a place for the night

a wooden seat to perch on
next to the
church on
Mile End road.

This may be a blessing
but
God keeps me guessing
and I feel I'm
no nearer to him or to thee
whomsoever him or thee
may be.

Next to the gravestones which are
weather worn and grey
( say! I look the same)

I am but a name in the register
to be struck out as I struck out

When your luck's out life *****

I only draw in a breath for death
to draw closer to me
I want to see it coming.

God and his crew always know what to do and send the sunlight to heal all my woes

I take to my toes and leave Bow far behind me and am sure that god knows if he wants where to find me
or
I may find myself.

I embarked on a fairytale journey
Set sail on a sail of dreams
Moving ahead with the oars of imagination
It was all as if a
Mystic celebration!
Had my past memories as my companions
Looking forward to gaining some more
As I'd anchor to harbour
Of unknown wonders
I was to create
A flyover
To new such movers
Of my mundane things
But as I was sailing past
Things of the past
Seeing and absorbing
Things myriad
Gypsies,fairies
Dragons and whales
The jungleman
Aboard his flying monkey plane
His dreams
Of eating berries
Hearing the sweet
Jungle cuckoo
Sing
Did feel I
Also felt his bravery
Of facing and making
The mighty tiger
His friend
Could I?
Puppets various
Dancing to tunes
Junglee animals
Howling in merry
They didn't seem sorry
Perfumes and ice cream delights
Mountains and heaps of
Sweets
Oh my sweet tooth,oh
My craving heart
What not saw I
One of them I did pick
To be aboard with me
On my sail forever!
Forget how could I
Oh but what I see!
All that's good comes to an end
Out of my dreams
From nowhere
The nasty mobile rings
I come to reality
And attend the call
Oh will I
Forget those things
For once and for all!

Majestic’s eager roam
Ivory pony
On rocky loam
~
By towering gatehouse
After spring’s water douse
~
Gallops away
Airy April day
~
Dust & debris
Scampers free
~
Glimmer pale sunlight
Over dolomite
~
Through shadows of trees
Countryside bees
~
Scatter young clover
Black & yellow flyover
~
Cloudless sky sprints
Pony muddy imprints
~
Soft pine on ground
Resting doe is found
~
Grassy knoll
Embers of winters last coal
~
Air soft and warm
Passed gentle spring storm
~
Down twisting hills
With peaking daffodils
~
Starry night appears
Trot pioneer
~
Majestic’s roam
Had led to home
~
A previous land
Where seashells line
Paths of sand

i  watched  a  spider  cross  the floor,

twenty  tiles,  by  one  foot four,  he  belted  down

Route  66,  from  door  to  door,  Ant  size . no more.  

His  Harley  Davidson  legs,  hardley  touched  the  floor



Easy  rider  on  a  trip,  to  follow  a  female  spider´s  Spoor.

probably  left  a  wife  and  baby  spider  behind  for  sure,

Oh,  what a  tangled  web  they weave,

when  first   they  practice  to deceive.


And  there  i  thought  he  was  just  a  little  innocent  Mite,

he  had  other  plans  the  *****  *****.

after  I squashed  the  pervert  on tile  five,

I  realized,  maybe  he   was  returning  home

to  his  wife  and  child.


Too  late  now  as  the  die was  cast,

the  cast  was  Die,  I  made   him  a  martyr,

a  martyr,  in  a  Black  Widow  and  a  child´s  eye.

And  a  fading  memory  for  a  spideress  barsmaid,

in  a  flyover  pit stop  on  Route  66,

in  the  sweet  bye  and  bye.


      By  Holly  Barrett

I am a flyover between two eons.
My world of tender senses
depict a brilliant flower garden
static as an artist's ace.

The other world is a kaleidoscope.
Colors and shapes fast change imprints
conflict between the static and dynamic
make me a vulnerable warrior.

Providence, please lift anchor.
I want to steer my dear boat,
cross horizon and live forever
in the sphere of speed, comfort.

23rd. April, 2017.

Sitting in the back of a black Honda Accord,
we were taking a ride across my city.
We saw jungles of skyscrapers passing by;
We saw a red flyover illuminant ahead,
like a real artery filled with blood.
A civilized city! You marveled.
and I smiled a smile you couldn't see,
cause we were sitting side by side.
Side by side, soul by soul,
Across the city we were taking a ride

i was aiming to sort out some computer
details outside the realm
of the corporate world of hierarchy...
something like that...
talking to a 56 year old kazakh in
romford: about the turks and the mongols...
about giving up smoking (not really):
and how i am addicted to carbon
monoxide while he is bagging big chews
from the nicotine gum: fiddly fingers
and something akin to peeling carrots
and power-tame-toes!
fiddles for foreskins...
in this one instance i am... beside buying
into... "the narrative"...
a crown descends...
   a crow is the equivalent of crown:
phonetically: in greek... amore...
                  the rest of the day completed
itself... with me walking from
Chadwell Heath to Romford...
marking my feet on a shortcut through
the green belt...
the traffic noises died...
i just stood in a middle of a field
the vikings might have envied...
no no no...
   the blistering azure piercing breath
and making me embody a loitering of a soul...
three birds of prey...
how is it... that birds of prey rarely
flap their wings... they... just... hover...
impossibly perfect...
they hone in on something...
circle around and around
like a vultures' manifesto...
     i was waiting to see the dive
but i didn't see it: not out of impatience...
i was in a secluded partition of england
yet i was still attempting to buy a bicycle
in Chadwell Heath -
i looked at myself not looking at
anything prior...
this solitary whitey:
i don't mind the remark...
thank god the slaves of colour want
to either see no colour or... too...
the hues of copper, cinnamon...
      teases of cacao...
                           a cuban ****...
                so much was poured into
a runic revision -
    best: an invigoration...
                    toothpicks for words:
an arithmetic of my teeth...
        i am beside myself welcoming
the intrusion of "minority":
perhaps in little ol' removed Swansea -
i am the lord mayor the city might
need me...
   in somewhere like Chadwell Heath...
buying a lion white chocolate bar
is perhaps sub-cultural -
the same old pauper of what-a-load of
violins bundled up on a bench
by the church... a last imploring gesture...
drinking that gorgon's blood
of a dutch equivalent of carlsberg's
spezial broo (or -ew)...
          on these isles: these bright and beautiful
isles:
you can't "sell me": the irish are still
speaking... english?!
the irish are not speaking gaelic -
my god... this terrible hammer from
Lincolnshire -
     when and as to how...
the Welsh took it upon themselves
to become this sacred heaven of bilingualism -
so much for learning Dutch -
or... Bel-ge-an -
  Flemz? Flimsy Choc-a-Block...
       choke on a tired rubber of a tire...
stage a newbie ***** flick from
the dungeons of **** Bruges...
or some ***** / wide my pony: rha rha rho...
that the Welsh still cling to a tongue:
spirit pairing:
of the Polacks under the geography
of the third partition...
of the czechs under the habsburgs -
          history as a fetish...
no... more... "natural selection" beside
the already prescribed antics of ape ****
and meteor... and time impossible...
to have... selective historicism...
naturally?
             that "we" are at a stage where
something is deemed necessary - otherwise not...
but then again it's not...
since: who the hell will remember "us"?
i drink... but i also write...
i guess the writing is more of an exercise
in amnesia than the drinking -
the drinking helps: in that i am more blunt,
boringly honesty:
un-spec-tac-ular for the best...
  i just can't imagine myself writting anything
worse than a journalistic tabloid
palette will allow...
    sure: no rhyme no river for a narrtive:
concretely focused on an (a) through to a (z)...
pay... i guess the concept of
pay is showing through...
          well then... my whittle hobby:
my whittle: it can become impossible -
that the secular niqab
   will not protect you from the stench
of old goats' **** in a public toilet -
the solipsism of farting in a cogested
public "picturesque"...
to have to believe in both narratives:
the mainstream of lies and these -
offshoots of the best / better informed...
my little paranoid agenda is no
agenda... but enough of my beard
shackles a: thorough "through"...
red is longer a bull pointer antagonist...
up could be a down...
but it's not that: well... it is...
that people made a constituted forward:
towing - best kept replicas...
how could it be possible to procrastinate
a diminishing of transcendence:
that freedom is already a pork-pie glutton
and constipation...
"think-tanks"...
      tanks... ego rifles?
      shoot the dummy... play the cerebral
palsy mannequin tossing...
the utopia of hyperhondriacs...
a diaspora of polacks and the greeks...
that the machinery has been
well established... that the machine has
been well oiled...
and is "econimally" sound...
     gentle rub rub gentlest rubbing rub-up...
and down...
and my flesh this least copernican
crux... which has not orientated
itself around either sun, star...
earth or moon...
          
            expanding cycle lanes will
not bring about a new dutch republic...
nor will i sell a pancake for
the purpose of levelling the himalayas...
this brittle conundrum of bogus...
two narratives:
alter-alter -
what-if and... what-if...
                but red's not red:
there's no shawl for a hemmingway
for sooner last:
for a Catalonia...
to romance the world afresh...
but now there's a McDonalds in
Stockholm: future knowledge...
a globalist ghetto -

how the joke that  was once
Sweden is no longer...
this same... cyclops of culture mantra...
of lore: Sveeden: "so tolerant"...
and now the world and no...
this is not a world...
based on the focus of scrutiny
of a world: no... there's
no heidegger's dasein:
there's...

the magic trick for the masses...
which is much more spectacular...
and how willing there's a dulling of perception..
i am of the custard pie...
i am the custard pie...
            
              hiersein: "there" or "here" of...
ahem...                wohin?
that word comes with a question puncture...
you don't actually use the word:
where... without a question mark... no?
you can compound a complexity
akin to heidegger's with: here-being
alias "concern"...
well then... the solipsism of: "over-there"...
a pointer... it's a lack of reconciling the masses
with any ontological... "scrutiny"...

plus up: ++++ pardons for:
blistering of and this leftover scab of narrative...
before the double knee of
b.l.m. and beijing -
now... best left with fighting the nazis...
i'll say it outright...
best left with fighting the nazis...
best fighting a well attired SS-man
in some hugo boss suit...
of pristine khaki... grey or black...
but no... not now...
dulling of suits...
              
   now i'm on par with the argument:
i want nazis! i want to fight nazis!
oh... wait... they're not blonde...
or german or... believe me:
they could have hidden in the Crimean
peninsula...
             but no... but not now...
i want to fight: the *******: good-luck
joke of history...
but this evil is so bland...
it's so terrestrial...
   the same mundane evil coupled
with my own terrestrial existence probing
of conversation / no argument...

the Welsh still speak: "Welden"...
   Velsh... in a climate where... the union
jack is looking up the h'american *******...
but the scots but the irish don't retain
their ******* gaelic...
good for you:
like a nuanced slang of the english cricketer...
tourist... hello... world...
tourist... hello world...
               my now new reality:
legal immigration this little ******...
this no burden of a Ruś -
a warraring burden from a scent in the air...
that there's no concrete:
sulphur stinking zeppelin ruining the skies
at: come night... come lazily this lost day...
this lost day...

once more: when st. patrick met up
with a mule that became
a farce and a ghost-face
of sitting loiter:
anti-saint: humpty-coŁal-sky-
             dumps a truce...
valiant against the propaganda cogs
and blockages...
the retorts of the salvaged plumber...
my new authority: my lost authority...
F'f'f'f'fever pitch for a hannibal...

Carthage must counter: euthanasia...
me best sold "neuter"...
that there is an unconvincing this:
bias this base...
******* on a whiskey soaked
cigarette...
that a guinness can only be drank
from a glass of a measure of a pint...
don't blister me with
this and these details of a gargantuan
t'is... i want a poetry on the basis
of future: dead...

            ****-soaked revelation
of a brick willing: to sell a "hybrid"
sorta-glue: a congestion...
           this my sacred ****...
my tongue this lesser oyster -
      a skull that cannot fathom
   the jaw line...
      witness my own very little...
my leisured attention span...
no new no wriggling of index
as the best pickled earth-worn...

              habitually: a shirt worn
to expand upon an objectivity for
the tow of a shirt with...
creases...
this lesser ambiguity of
a prompt that preserves itself
with a: lost project of ambiguity -

that we somehow accepted
a new, a nuance... a blister and a heaving...
catterpillar dues...
count! count the arithmetic per-take!
back in the ***** of mother russia...
little people do little things...
big people do: crab load of ****:
this sort of philanthrophy...
because: aghast...
the mistantrophe is the next
best fang...
like chewing gum and mawler
of a fake tooth:
my best kept bones...

              heritage of radio and a ******...
but, once upon a time...
my little overt detailing...
romance mr. marshall this little
casablanca and my own tunis -
chasing shadows with
a little insy-winsy spiders to tow...
my own cob...
my own prague pangs of summer
that they are still:
the cobblestones to resound
with horse hoofs...

the last... lost... project...
to have to rejuvinate the revision
of the roman empire...
that there was no james joyce's ullyses
from 200 AD...
there was an old greek in
the new greek in the byzantine choral
chant...
     goody-goody-fwyfays
2020 my lost year...
the year when i begged for a slack:
a diminished point of a pair of *******...
how sober somehow worked...
that drunk was no new sensible...
doubt and its plethora of all the least
possible jargon of emotions:
a McDowell a McCurieal...
   a Dot MacKenzzies...
a lord assumption of surnames that:
there was no ever...
Hogwarts of the choicest of godfather
names... when this blessed babe
of the agony srap..
this tendering of bones...
          my little mongolia...
a variation of Kiev that could expand
into Ukraine...
                       but: ah... now...
a little chisel of england or...
aa bandage off...
this whittle hinter of big bypass flyover
most pristine:
utopia h'americana...
                          Boston bleeds:
Chigaco sort of... fakes...
on the cackle of a letter...
gate? i say... Gate?
      shique: cack: ago: co: go...
no "lord assumption"...
my lord this same ***** diary
this rusty panser..
                                 and i have
to somehow embarass myself
with a "belief" in a... god?!

                  of the non-exisstence of
a god among "sensible" people...
this little deity of transcending...
my quest for a satanic project
gorgon...
         stashed up conjure:
of.. the death-litany...
my own explanation...
            my own little wording that
has to arrive at a...
******* and a variation of hues
that borrows from green...
blue... and the mediating...
              hard-world-of-grey...
this my loosening of tendons...
the easing of muscle to tow
some fat...
my new: hammering...
chicken shackles...
rummanating the lost
ordeal of the perpliexing *** ordeal
of catholicism -
time to *******! time to!

my best pointers:
corpus christi:
we did start off with cannibalism...
we did start off with cannibalism...
metaphorical?
was it ever really a posit of
images that were only read by braille
sooths?
christianity is a cannibalism...
it's so hertbreaking that:
there's no god or an infinite man
of the little things to make
a composition of polyphony...

i can't read into a jesus when there's
the cannibalism:
a "metaphor" for a metaphysics...
a death of poetry: hell...
**** me for the necessary death
of rhyme...
            now "jew" like any basic
posit of a yew...
    prior to the real established
scrutiny of a nation-state...
which has to be fathomed
with Israel...
the hebrews have finally found
their: woke and roll...

           the jews were excused from
towing along to the crucifix...
and when all was done...
and this new camel jockey prize...
king crimson...
isn't cited: unless in the spanish circles
along with portishead...

i have desired this blatant death
that it might contend with Barcelona...
or a sequence if a brothel
from Bulgaria imitating throttle Thailand...
my little ex-girlfriend...
come 5am... and it is still
oxford st. and a flagship wake-me-up...
this old leveraging London matters...
i am but the sharpnel of words
that cannot possible reproduce:
brick-top sensibilities...

my litter interludes basket of futurist "what if"
existences in the Bedlam of epitaphs...
i might have been crowned the prince
of Anjou...
   i might have cradled the thirds
of the third crusade...
i might just as well be the beggar from
the annals of history making journalistic
progressions... to sow: death... to tow...
belittling creases of lost
adventures... creasing the skin prone:
proof... a detail of a scalp that's not...
  em... retail... wigs...
                          you wanna make me a glutton:
fist based... there was no turmeric involved...
the "convenience"...
yes... a bone-ah-tomahawk...
  my best attired cannibal...
it's such a taming project...
i want to be chemically sedated by disproofs...
but then... i am...
squandering what little i have
of romancing russia...
or thereby greece...

  this is the part where i try to borrow from
a differentiation of...
second from last:
stream of borrowed cocktails...
or...
my best screaming streamer -
i nice unto you...
you...
no... i very much like this cul de sac
of: i nice unto you...
why? the work invites no
technicality that can be
detailed into a trans-generational...
my last Epicurus joke...

crease a child an ultimatum of
competition...
conjunctions of grief...
not biggest thank you...
i thank you as to why
i... not because i wanted
to drink...
sober people are splits and
just plain boring...
towing toes to tango:
no game of twos...
sober people have no...

   my best tomato ketchup fake
blood load of argumentation...
bias / basis...
generic *******...
cause no happy bride:
was ever to be prized...
or prided..
my little gimmick wonderland
of a shtick...
no thank god i never married...
thank god i toiled around
with...
bread-knit...
and... cuneiform woke...
best kept islam: a foretold
variation of agriculture...
the plantation ridicule plumber of
eastern european choice:
****-dumbdumb...
dies with... incorporated
neu-Birmingham...
******* polacks...
too proud to think they could replace
us *****: first prized Pakis...

ahem... yes... what?!
this be Westminster...
tax haven collector's bias?
do i have a face that might coincide with:
i had...
but right now?
no... i couldn't give a tonne's load
of ******* to mind
it being a copernican: first invoked
sort of... affair...
savvy?!

no... you're good...

for some reason i cycled those circa 20+ miles from
Havering-atte-Bower
toward Marble Arch... bought myself a Heineken
found the laziest spot in Hyde Park
collapsed... drank it... smoked a cigarette...
then lay on my back like the good serpent
and read... oh... about 20 pages from vol. 4
of the Norwegian mein kampf...
mein kopf... wo ist es?!
trouble with headphones... the Bow roundabout
flyover... trouble with: this beautiful
mash-up that's London..
it's pretty boring from Ilford through
to Stratford... boring... by that i mean:
not much eye-candy...
one niqab over there... another niqab other
there...
how bewildering... the day is spent...
i'm drinking some fine fine *** in a tea cup...
the air is fresh... the air is scented with
rosemary... thyme... garlic...
if i could only squeeze out a lime...
i still don't understand the beef surrounding
the appreciation of Phil Collins...
cycling music... i'm refreshing a fandom of
U2...
it's popular it's: does everything have to
be about Wagner or Mahler...
does it have to be about foraging...
does it require a niche appreciation...
sometimes its music to block out the sound
of traffic...
reminding myself that bigger things have
blind spots...
paying respect to larger creatures of the road...
i never heard... T-Rex's cosmic dancer...
a song for the dead... it must be...
now i understand why i invested so much
time in the cardiovascular pressures...
one ******... two ******... three...
it might be a myth... but three huddle take out
their phone... one raises her hand
to make you pay attention...
what application is not sleeping?
the one where you swipe left on the profile picture
of someone in your vicinity?
good... i'm off the grid...
surreal... headphones out...
reading a book with a spider running along
the pages
before creating a makeshift parachute
and "*******" off on the wind...
being almost statue-esque...
focal point for children...
                  life is neither good, nor bad...
but thank god i left all my baggage in
the brothel...
elsewhere i can have a labyrinth of thought
without any: moral 'ought (i)...
the sun was shining...
i was warming my belly thinking about...
the impossibility of gaining a spare
set of limbs... no good... no use!
esp. in an urban setting:
i always thought that people all geared up
for a traffic collision riding their
road bicycles were pretentious when they
spotted someone riding a commuter /
mountain bicycle on the streets...
well... 23cm wheels... a pebbles is a pierced tire...
yeah... they are pretentious *******-whacking
sorts...
oh, wait... i was an eager tadpole once upon
a time...
not that i remember...
would a cat put that much effort into falling
asleep?
sometimes i think they do...
- because i have to be a tourist going down
Oxford Street... you know the type...
she's stunner made from a tenner rolled up...
eh... ******* has left sour notes...
i don't like watching ******* anymore...
i have ******* to the canyon of the *****
or the buttocks...
something impossibly immoveable like
a photograph of a naked body...
believe me: no scented candles...
but at 35 years old... my libido isn't going
to somehow: "suddenly" die off...
i'll put an X on the day of the calendar when
it happens and i'll complete my life's assurances
as a shade as an old man...
i bemoan some who sing the praises
of Warsaw...
i wish i could sing the same: about London...
this fractured happy-****-up-get-together...
when ol' Joseph: Marian, Bátuk
was still alive: half of Poland was alive for me...
to trudge... like a wild animal through
commuter Warsaw...
this one time a Greek tourist...
how similar Greek is to Spanish...
maybe just me... sweet lisp...
you could write it with an apostrophe...
Ba'TUK...
  i bemoan the lack of diacritical pointers...
intra-verbum punctuation marks...
hiding letters while exfoliating in the sounds:
say... hide the surd H...
when coupled with S or C...
cheap ****: čeap šit... but that's Czex...
Czech... in western Slavic the coupling with
Z is like the Saxon coupling with H...
i'm on loan...
but i will never want to return to the Polacks
of my contemporary blood-****-of-a-pulse...
English is not German:
pronounced with... shrapnel and
over... hyphenated compounding...
but i: rather live among these people
than among my own...
i'm a by-product of multiculturalism...
i get a whiff of curry: i run...
toward the sauce...
i don't need to be lectured about the
etymology of the word curry...
can't i just appreciate it: why so high-and-proud...
never... truly... never... mind...
it's a pleasant place...
when the whole world has come together...
it's an experience...
the queen of England is gagging for...
but i have it.. gratis...
- i see a darkness more visible than...
what light is allowed to consume...
with the thrill of youth surrounding
a female...
i see the eye... with the pupil...
marrying itself to overpower
both the iris and the sclera...
    i see a gluttonous darkness... shades
of greenish envy become
gangrene and blotches of:
off the game, chance...
    now i figure... i don't want someone to:
second butcher... tool...
i *****-driver: you... *****... something's loose...
as i wave goodbye... i salute:
submission...
but this canvas is the best... the only...
conversation i will ever have: have achieved...
i like my solitude...
that i also like to leave 3rd person trails
of budding voyeurs...
a grammatical shake-up... "revisionism"...
of the zunge?
suppose i'm a man now:
not a boy yoyo...
the odd grey hair...
                                i imitate a quake
with elbows and knee jerks
like they might be spaghetti tied...
there's that parachuting ant...
there's king Solomon: who never forgave his father
for writing the psalms: defeating Goliath with
a slingshot... come to think of it...
David... Odysseus...
Goliath... Polyphemus...
   maybe just: moi... irregular...
tranversing the width of Germany i was
"surprised": why aren't these people speaking
English... oh..
right... only tourists speak English... lingering: leash:
-ing..
            so much for that ******* wisdom
that came from the harem...
anyone can be deemed wise...
if he has a storage of ***** riddled
****-buddies...
wisdom.... wish i'd whisk up a dom-ination
of... save purpose... or some... other...
"word-salad" verbiage...
unconventional use of language...
psychiatry is bothered...
forgot to mention the loss of soul...
after all... who might require the sigma
of the animation of man?
better keep him... it.. in fractions...
buttoned up with bagels as buttons.

i guess it would make sense going
to an American university -
i guess, although i don't know -
the chance for seniors to buy the *****
freely for sorority parties...
        but back in England?
      i remember the thrill of aging -
sneaking into a Jumpin' Jack's
       next to the Ilford flyover -
        underage -
               whatever ***-fluff i donned
back then...
   before the stubble took off...
and my ****** hair took the form of
***** hair broom prickliness -
       i'm never sure...
whenever i scratch my groin or fiddle
with my beard...
    guess i'm a poker card -
    same type of keratin on my face
as in my groin...
                        funny... *** hair?
soft like the hair on my head...
           hey god?!
                   i'm starting to think there's
so little divine intervention
because he's cackling away like a fox's
mating call in the night...
       - but in England, when it was still
pushed to figure out a university
placement -
     can't go wrong with chemistry -
a chemistry degree -
                  30+ hours during a week
in your third year -
   12 of them being laboratory hours...
and esp. in Scotland -
extra curriculum -
  courses in history, or French...
or basic computing -
mathematics -
    come to think of it...
i only managed a D in my mathematics
A-level...
  but up in Scotland?
      straight A...
                which speaks a lot about
teaching standards...
        i remember sitting next to this
guy who dropped out,
having worked in a pet shop...
   and the underrated teacher...
some closet genius...
    how he managed to teach me
to improve on my mathematics -
calculus primarily -
from a D grade to a 99% score...
      point being...
   there's absolutely no need to milk
your parents to go to university
in England, unless you're rich enough...
back when the tuition fees
were £1250... fair enough...
   but at £9000+?
                 and i guess if you don't
look old enough,
and want to sample some ms. amber,
and you live in America where
the seniors buy ***** for *******...
whatever...
                    debt?
  yeah... over £10K...
   but there are rules...
30 years and the debt it written off...
            and i am only supposed to pay
the debt off if i earn over £15K a year...
over 10 years after graduation?
   no job prospect to guarantee a write off
income for the debt...
           i earn less: i don't pay the debt back...
i guess i'll wait for 30 years...
i have the time...
     and much drinking to be had
in between...
             then again...
                       i'm a dual-national -
and all those Poles who came to Scotland
in 2004 / 5...
were milking the fact that E.U.
nationals didn't have to pay the tuition
fees in Scotland...
   unlucky me...
having acquired a British passport
in... 2004? i guess it was 2004.

Among birds
They’re the duller
No need to see color
When none of them
Held within
Arms of a lover
Just first to flyover
Marooned in my closure’s
Erasure exposure
And nobody knows
Of the woebegone
Better
Or soothes me
With moody
Tempestuous weather
For islands of paradise
Caged her too long
Until jungles of concrete
Are where she has gone
And she will fly away
You delusional fool
Or be flightless forever
For some
Shiny jewel

Looks like ordinary
eyes. You break me again when
blue lake dries up.

*

A flyover runs fast
to catch the man in haste, going
for a pilgrimage.

*

Account must be cleared
before you sell future into
the penniless fakir.

fireflies in jar
halley's comet in orbit
hamster on wheel
ant on a mound in winter
homeless family under flyover
goldfish in bowl
sand in hourglass
pendulum in clock
blood in veins
holiday weekend plans
fire in steel furnace
oil under desert rocks
water in a glacier
protagonist in a dusty book
character in a logged off videogame
larva in chrysalis
tree in unplanted seed
pigeon hiding in rain
stardust on earth
life in materialism
divinity in debauchery


quarantined.

While jogging on the flyover
The orange dressed Sun
Looked at me،
Played hide and seek

And the trees kept like parents
To their child
Kept
holding it
On their shoulders

I said hi
Through my smile

in ref. to parliREACH: my own revision of "standards" / a return to fully functioning descriptive attaches / cubism / no! to colour-blindness / poetry of whites / communism was good because mostly starving Ukrainians or Kazakhs or other "badziewie" / pressure to instigate overt-nuances of language: a necessary intro. of ciphers / alt.? scythe and stone for every hammer and sickle... ardently pro private property - my own personal library would shame the Romford public 'un... excuses? none: at "face-value"... literally... let's not bother with transcending the man the albino the **** similis - there is nothing essential about a man's personality / character: i don't have a dream - all the better - a return to basics: fully primed HD vintage - bone-sore plum mascara pulp of a face in detail... yes... let's goo!

Afghani or Afghanistani -
         teasingly -
               tip of toe to the burnt heel -
bazar of spices -
and some angry prefix lady:

asian dub foundation: flyover -

iowa or ohio?
         'no iraqi ever called me a ****-'
this huge and coincidentally
hiding rainbow of
alphabets and a peoples
with strap-on or donning wigs

'burning up the Urals in south
Kensington'
little mongol warrior -
mongol or mongrel?

   the plethora of diasporas:
LGBTq-anon.
    and of course: angry prefix
lady...
dull twisting: a vaguness
of eyes and a schizophrenic's Is:
this iota a push-push of
plural with a possessive article
of an APOSTROPHE 'IGMA...

sha-tan...
     Mr. Ghan -
mr. gali-gali in old Bengal -
   cinnamon lives matter...
copperskins and culprits when
not smooching a molten heap
of choccy-blues...

my own stint at gammon:
hyper-inflating a lost character but....
this pronounced idle of...
himalayan salt: pinkish: really though:
pink through and through...

tired of the tan - tabs of a vit-D iet
nonetheless required:
the colour of wheat -
   a faint description of cardamom
once exposed to too much
sunlight -
              breaking barks of wood
in the same disease of the sun...

a running against eskimos -
    ******* a lemon to squint since
not endowed with enough eyelashes...
it's not an anger it's not
a gimmick -
            revelations of
accusations - no more mythical
sha-tan -
               a case for: digging trenches -
in the mud of flanders
better still: no flanders -
a knee deep ******* side of whittle
essex that almost all of
England wants to tease -

the origins of oranges -
and the whitening of teeth -
no one ever mentioned the whitey's
envy of the negros ivory?
pristine white in the ivory
and the sclera?

hyper-"racism"... a poetry that would
have someone bewildered at
terms 'apricot' / 'cinnamon' applied
to a dog's fur -
   yes... the thesis of anti-racism was
to dig deep into an essential man...

apparently that's not necessary
anymore -
there has to be a return
to picasso's african mask cubism:
the exfoliation of details:
and excuses of them...
no apology required...

nothing worse these days
than being colour-blind:
of missing the descriptive utility
of this tongue...
afro like sponge mingling with
cotton-candy in sensation...

too bad for the superiors:
h'arab and beijing middle-kingdom
pronto...
ya'llah! imsh'e...
      sinking in that dead sea
black custard thick:
a camel jockey and his camel;
choo! choo! the mercedes-benz
joked.

The sitting president of the USA (irony)

My dislike of Trump is deep
like that of any dictator driven by ambition and cruelty.
Then I read the twitter and find tittle-tattle
about him and the women in his household
written for a lot of dosh
by those who knew him and his family briefly.
The intelligentsia make fun of his use of words
which I presume to make them sound learned.
For those who have not got it yet
he didn´t become president because he is
blithering idiot.
Trump´s base
is in the so-called “flyover states” who are annoyed
by Washington and the high fliers there.
His opponent in this race a Joe Biden is seen
as a Washington insider and have nothing to give
the American people, except a white smile
by an older man with a dentist grin.
Trump is all talk he has not started any new war
should he be elected again he might even be
a friend of Iran.