Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
One on top of the other
still with flesh and organs all intact
and making all sorts of crude noises
and getting into this messy business –
getting your bed sticky and wet with sweat;
ah, you beings of flesh and blood and ecstasies
unlike me
just bones and a mere ghost me now living
lonely and in airless worlds
sent there by you my wife under that man
and you the man who helped poison me -
now you are over my wife
and you raise your **** to the gods
Hheeee…heeee….heeee… Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
I’ll be back every time the two of you fornicators
make love in my bed – shame on you, you murderer;
you took my wife, my home –and can’t even afford
to buy a new bed;
and you even use the condoms I left in the wardrobe...
Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..
but I’ll be back every time the two of you close each other
like two palms raised in prayer ;
and I’ll pull the mosquito net down a bit and peer in
to see the two of you naked in bed
and I’ve got a bony tongue
long enough to lick the both of you!-
and to see me with my horrendous eyeballs
your phallus will shrink immediately;
and that woman, my former wife and eternal betrayer,
who mixed poison into my rice and shrimps
- every time she sees me, in her shock and fear
she’ll **** you out of bed, every time for sure...
Heee! Heee! Hooooo….
Well, Hello, lovebirds…making love are we?
Heee! Heee! Hooooooo…..

Now I lay me down to sleep. It is near 2:00 P.M,Pacific time.

I pray the Lord my sleep to keep. Been tossing and turning a lot lately.

If I should Dream before I wake. No March Hares if you please.

I pray the lord my twitch to take. Restless leg syndrome.

Goodnight Insomniacs.
Late night surfers.
Medicated Jitterbugs.
Jet-lagged Travelers.
Partners of snoring bed mates. With or without earplugs.
Late night ruminators.
Wanna be fornicators.
See ya later Nocturnal alligators.

Inspiration is but a breath away.

Indiscreet Parakeets

Lovesick parakeets,
Eager wicked fornicators,
climaxed with a shriek.

Bat Trick

This bat, wants to act,
Only in a position
Other species find
Hard to imitate.

The Serpent's Last Chance*

Hissed aloud, in vein, none seemed impressed.
Swished around, ****! it's polished marble floor.
Only makes miserable after all the false moves.
No escape route found after so much struggle.
Serpentine arrogance desperately seek a burrow,
Finding the lethal  poison of King cobra useless.
In a situation too slippery to bite or frighten
He could only coil in dejection, pretending dead.

All I’m beginning to feel is pain. My mind is buzzing and throbbing because I’ve shoved it out of sight. My chest aches from a diet of fried foods and breathing toxic conversation. My ears sting from biting criticisms my parents present of: homosexuals, the homeless, drug addicts, hippies, and myself. Ten days trapped, with no escape but my mind. I should have prepared better; brought armor and weapons, but nothing cuts through the opinions of the ignorant. Nothing can expose the lies they’ve fed themselves.

My mother loves “people watching” she says, but only from a safe distance. Far enough to see the grit, but not the despair.
My father is fickle, brooding and American. He can’t look foreigners in the eye and scoffs at language barriers.

Together they make assumptions: drug addict, idiot, fornicators, harlot, thief, terrorist, local, wealthy, foreign.  Maybe they’re right to assume the negative; maybe they’re right when they say all the homeless are drug addicts. I hope not, I maintain faith, faith in the beauty of life, in the inherent differences we all possess, not in a God they say, says no to: liars, and *****, and prostitutes, and druggies, and the tattooed, I run, from them and their prayers, and arrogance and conclusions.

Smite me, parents, your darlingdaughter.

I’ve been all of those.
I lie to you, hide my true self, to spare you.
I’ve smoked ***.
I’ve drank underage.
I’ve been a ****.
I’ve been called a *******.
I’ve loved the idea that love is real, whether you’re gay or straight.

You **** my faith, force in your ideals and chain me to a cross you’ve built yourselves of hypocrisy, of hate, of misunderstanding, of fear, of criticism. I struggle to get free. Defend my principles, play “devil’s advocate,” when you know as well as I, I’m not playing. I’ll prove it, be more than you’ll allow, do more than you want.

I’ll find more love than your Christianity-tainted mind can fathom.
I’ll explore the depths of the mind you’ll never know.
I’ll remember the love you made me forget.
I’ll make love to men without a ring on our fingers, and feel no remorse.
I’ll tattoo my body, to show the world the beauty of my mind.
I’ll buy a Koran because I see its beauty.
I’ll attempt to understand others.
I’ll give to the homeless, even if they’re drug addicts.
I’ll love everyone that’s real, because I can. Because it’s more important than God or war or assumptions or generalizations, or patriotism.

You think I’m rebelling?
No. no. no. I’m just living.

Inspired by Vicki Acquah (Mama Oladeji)

God Save the Queen
Long live the King
Hail to the Chief
The Lord of all Lies

I dredged the swamp
For the bombs bursting in air
Oh, say can you see
That justice is blind
That we are all color blind
When all you can see is
The White Hot dawns early light
That might means right
Always fight with the Son at your back
And the darkness in your soul
But don’t be black?
That’s worth the bullets whizzing past
A soldier’s job is never done
Never won
A draft dodger’s never run
Never One
With the multiplicity of our multi-ethnicity
Of a nation of fools
That elects a derelict jester
Who taunts our puppet strings
Strikes the chords of the lamentations of our hearts
Heartless *******!
We are no longer whole
Just a sinking hole
A pit of despair
That stares back at us
Look up
Look down
Stay down
Lock down
Look out!
Here it comes
As above, so below
The devil’s in the details
That are reduced to black and whites
We are weapons of mass confusion
Taking aim
Hiding behind His Wall
To build a nation of prisoners
Too afraid to yell out our battle calls
To seek retribution for our disillusion
To clear up the noise pollution
And fall on our knees
To take a knee
Because we NEED
We are a world of truth benders
Rule breakers
Criminal instigators
Unforeseen fornicators
Ego MasterBaiters
Serial verbal defecators

We are nothing
No One
No where
Just present
At this moment in history
When we realized we ****** up
Hindsight was blind sided
Blinded by the light
Speckled with red, white, and bruises
Masks of shame
That we were complicit in our own downfall
The Fall of Man
The blood is on our hands
Be cause we did not stop
When we knew we could
Because we thought No, meant yes
And that she didn’t really mean it
And Boys will be boys
With their unruly lethal toys
That cuts through what was Right
And Left US divided

Society mocks abstinence
but God detests all fornicators.
God gives us sacred purity
society offers ***.
God says to love everyone,
yet he loathes homosexuals
in the bible they stone people,
and feed people to lions.
society says be yourself,
yet laughs in your face.

Facing reality to night and I
Don’t like what I see
A man setting on a big throne
With his eyes pointed at me.
So many people standing around with
Their heads hanging low
I’m afraid what the Lord may say
So in my heart I must go
I tried to hide behind the crowd
Didn’t want to know my fate
The lord cried “come back!”
For you my child it’s too late

I starred at the other people faces
And we all had the same look
There’s no hope for us when
God judge us from his book
Liars, backbiters, fornicators, and all
Slipping in the darkness, led to your fall
My book is open so said the Lord
Why didn’t you stop and examine your heart
You can’t be with me, I forbid all sin
I warn you daily before your end

My book will judge your every secret fault
Everything you took, everything you bought
Beyond this door lies another door
Once entered, your time is no more
Every secret thing you thought you hid
Every no good thing you ever did
My book is open to send you in a mist
Where you will never ever exist
You hated your neighbor, lied to your friend
Took church tithes, and didn’t amend
You took from the poor and didn’t care
You ignored me every time I were there

You slept at night with lust on your mind
I tried to correct you time after time
My book is open to judge you and I will
Your time is up, your faith now sealed
My word will warn your family and friend
If they fail to listen; my book will open again.

σoφια - Σophia - is a common name / term / noun,
ascribed to what many women find abhorring in men -
in that they are better off choosing
learning than become adamant
in shared expenses of life -
σoφια to them means *******:
not wisdom - and every man
who'd rather sacrifice his life
in pursuing her, wilts when
the shared expectation is one-sided -
and doesn't include women
in his life - in the end a love of Sophie
is a tale of a man going into a brothel,
because of the Fe skirt
and what women do gambling while
men do gambling on the horse or hound...
women abhor the man making woman
a famine of interest,
because, it seems, they aren't fit to compete,
how they loath Sophie in her earnest,
attracting so many men into her
harem of capable thinking deviating from
woman in her prime...
just a pitiful sight to behold...
the said interwoven: crucible for
sustaining life and some mad argument...
she really is a ***** about the Madonnas -
women loath her, and undermine
the men who cling with Siamese intent
to her, more than they loath going
into a brothel -
but she's a Madonna, and her adherents
are not thinkers, mere fornicators -
what a shame that her adherents are shunned
and left to rot in abandon -
                                     such is the jealousy of
woman - she decided: i will be more
jealous should a man choose σoφια rather than
some other woman...
                         i will not become an object
of apathy for him! i will be the cherry!
how sure she trotted on this gravel path
attempting to instruct stones into becoming
mountains... or sand into becoming pebbles -
she lost to the Madonna *******,
quiet simply, and in practice,
very far away the ****** birth -
                                     for how many men engaged
in ******* themselves upon that famous altar
that the common man called marriage?
ah, the lost entertainment -
σoφια is named ***** on the lips of women
who couldn't attain union with man -
but σoφια is named freedom on the lips of men
who couldn't find mankind, attaining union with woman;
which is why women find philosophers stupid,
and they fame them with little readership -
which is why women find philosophers stupid -
self-explanatory in them thus writing romance novels...
a stick has two ends... you can hold it
and hit with it, but at the same time it can be
gripped from your grip... and you get hit over your head.

i don't like the way its set up
how its built
or what it offers.

it turns perfectly good air
into poison
perfectly good people
into fornicators.

Loathsome little loving liars
Lying laughingly lazily

Poor pretentious puny pet
Phrasing picture perfect plays

Forty ******* fornicators
Flogging feathered flappers

Words wired without winds
Wistfully woven wrongfully

Bi-curious bitey bell-shaped *******
Bump big butts boastfully

Helping Harry's holey hippocampus
Holes he hides here hazily

The rich are committing suicide
and taking us along with them
the prosthetic limbed *******
Fort Darwin tottering on fewer stilts
once the Masters of the Universe
presently picking through garbage
looking for an Icarus to pilot
some way back among the clouds
their telepathic goon squads
armed with the ******* of God
squat in the darkness of doorways
lightning strikes all around them
even their telephone poles were clairvoyant
several thousand watts went up my leg
shorting out the only attention span I own
left me perforated but far from lacy
wearing all my masks all the time
fragments of self are selves
in a bulemic deconstruction
where form and content
mud wrestle incessantly for attention
on the crazy train to 3 color 3 finger hell
apparently the ancient gods still rule
in their madhouse heaven
ambivalent petulant flatulent gods
brandishing sword point conversions
wielding gun point perversions
the protagonists the antagonists
fornicators masturbators liquidators
pariahs and unlicensed poets
preaching hellstone and brimfire
now their carcasses are steppingstones
it's psywar out there kids
better find where they hid your dossier
mesmerized of the world unite
you have nothing to lose
but your failed methods of addressing reality
said his slowly twisting tongue
struggling for ratings like any media
the soul cannot erase it can only go sightless
a phantom trapped in melancholy
when we were built to dance
with the twinkling summer stars
he finally learned to undestroy memory
being an ascended master of non sequitur
carried aloft by the wings of Mother Goose
his metabolic hurricane of why
an inferno of intrigue and  superstition
our embryo-headed UFO ruling class
have me inside their fence of skulls
an investment in diagram futures
the idiots