Poured into the tight pants,
the grey ones with the zipper
that's afraid of heights, and
guess what? They're really
wrinkled or very wrinkled
or **** wrinkled--but they're
the tight grey ones, assumed
the thighs and calves would
handle the ironing.
Ten minutes late,
usually more. The clock
in the car, the red beat-up
'02 Cavalier, is not behind
or ahead an hour, no it's
set to some vague time
because lateness has
replaced time so why
even worry. Blood pressure, etc.
Spray on the cologne kept
in the car. Could look
up ingredients in cologne
to describe the smell
but that would take
away a little something.
So say: it smells really good
or very good or **** good--
and move on.
Walk inside, unbathed and
sun burnt--well not completely
unbathed. Washed the hair
because it's a puffy, erratic
downer otherwise.
It's all about appearance,
the bosslady said when
she made the hire.
Slipped a little.
Big woop.
Cold called the Southside
Veterinary Clinic.
They'll allow a visit.
Pack it all in the bag,
the mouse pads,
the koozies, the actual
thing to be sold:
SHEENY PUPPY, some
really heavy or very heavy
or **** heavy duty
coat treatment for canines.
The first one is on me, is said
as the package is handed over.
The vet wouldn't buy. Not then.
Probably not ever.
Ate an eighty-calorie bag of cookies.
Drank some coffee.
Stopped at the gas station, the
Conoco on 15th and Kelly,
and couldn't decide between
the fun size or the party size.
This is called the spectrum of grief.
Bought a pack of cigarettes.
Smoked three really quick
or very quick or **** quick,
like Mom might show up any
second and then tossed the pack
and the lighter.
Done with those. Forever.
This time. Or that time.
There was $20.89 in the
checking account and
a fresh girlfriend reminding
that today is one month.
Dinner. Dinner and wine.
$20.89.
You can sell only if you believe in the product.
Be really blunt or very blunt or **** blunt.
Stress is an art.
Create FUD (Fear, uncertainty and doubt).
It’s all about the presentation.
She's fresh and funny and so
self-conscious when she eats
spaghetti. Can't get
by with spaghetti
for the one-month.
No. No. No.
Be on fire and inspiring.
If you don’t know the answer, ask a question.
Answer inquiries concisely and loudly.
Humor is ****.
You can always be better. You can never be worse.
Call Mom, donate plasma or take the Xbox back.
Is this one forever?
Does forever mean dinner and wine
are necessary?
Or does forever mean that
the spectacle is frivolous?
In the cabinet at work
someone left blueberry bagels.
There's a microwave and a tub
of margarine that only
recently expired.

From lack of feeling, sick.
Quickening,
Sickening,
Death.
My high
won't dry
My tears
they lie
Beneath my lungs
The drugs
They paralyze
They tantalize,
My victims.
"This will be your better love."
I laugh
Bitterness veiled
from sight
My plight...
"Huh? What? Right."
Here's a freebie, just for you.
The cops patrol
Lie low.
I'll see you soon,
******

Apologies, as this is not in fact a poem.  It is, however, a link to a whole bunch of poems.  
Between now and Tuesday, my first poetry collection, "Over Glassy Horizon", is free to download on Kindle.

US link: tinyurl.com/usd-ogh
UK link: tinyurl.com/ukd-ogh  
(Elsewhere in the world, just hop onto Amazon and look up the book.  The offer is worldwide.)

Hope you enjoy this freebie.  All reviews are much appreciated.

You can rate me,
You can bait me,
You can freight me,
You can strait me,
Simulate me,
Even better
Drop a roofie,
Game a debtor.
You're so groovy, misbehaving,
Misbehaving,
Give it to me,
Trouble waiting,
Fascinating,
Always mating,
You can wake me,
You can slave me,
You can grade me,
You can shave me,
Integrate me,
I pulsating
A new navy,
All the skimmings,
Underpinning
Jehovah's witness,
Keep on stalking,
Better fitness,
Keep on shocking,
Shell is thinning,
Gettin' gotten,
Rot 'n' reeling.

Don't touch my bikini.
Better smile when you see me,
You can stare
That's a freebie.
Don't touch my bikini.
Looking is free,
But touching's gonna cost you
Something.

Smooth and lanky,
Hanky panky,
Got no treat or
New York Yankee,
Super leader,
Count to seven,
Go to Paris,
Break the leaven,
Roger Maris,
Bleed the Czar,
Shooting star,
You're so levy,
You're so sunny,
Getting ready,
Here's the money,
Socking heady,
Making honey,
Toasting herons,
That's not funny,
Waiter Betty,
Way too ****,
You're so on it,
You're so honest,
You can fool me,
You remold me,
All the preachers never told me,
Heavy breathing
Punting reason,
Welcome season.

Don't touch my graffiti.
Smile if you dare,
Oily oinkers everywhere.
Keep watching, you graffiti.
Next time you'll learn
That touching's gonna cost you
Something.

The year did pass and felt so quick
another year without his whit
he played his golf upon the new
it was his last until his due!!!
.......................................
I died a year or Two.. a wake I guess
but now I think of him no less
He loved and liked and made me cry
........................................
why oh why did he so die
........................
I know look back and want to say
so so much got in our way
Dad ..you *** you got me good
Boy I loved so so much

I went to the store today
attempting to purchase
a clean mind
and a pure heart.
The cashier told me
"sorry we're out"
but was kind enough
to offer me a freebie
called a fresh start.

Bobby's couch has a biography
of cigarette burns, food stains,
and cushion wear, all there, though
he doesn't know who wrote it

for $5 at the AmVets store
he bought a place to sit, and sleep
on nights when he was too wasted
to it make to the bedroom

where he has a mattress on
the floor; Bobby knows its life story, because
he filched it from a loading dock
at Sleep World

in five months,
it's had three women sleep
on it -- all hookers who gave
him a freebie

after they did copious lines
of coke on the glass topped coffee table
Bobby inherited from his brother, along
with a recliner he sold for ****

Bro's doing hard time at Huntsville;
he wanted Bobby to have a nice place
Bro gave his '73 Ford to their half sister
since Bobby's licence was suspended

when Bobby gets that oil field gig,
he's going to buy another Lazy Boy,
and a refrigerator to stock with beer...
maybe later a color TV

Sherman, Texas, 1978

hi all

today i was in a way, of not ******* for days, because i haven’t been checking, and i feel tired

and i need some help, so the power of athena brought me up, to the sky worked on me

and me cronus, was getting these awful pains, due to being bloated, and athena will help you’'

just as long as you don’t stress, you see, i have a very realistic father, because he believes in

being checked out by the doctor, and i am, i am seeing mental health workers, and they tell me

you see athena is helping me with mt teeth, and if i am up on cloud 9, trying to destroy EVIL

i feel i need to do cosmic work to protect an unprotected earth, and athena’ and me, cronus

no matter how much suffering our earth bodies do, can really help, the help that athena and cronus do

is actually getting life back to freebie medicine, but some people worry about dying, if your mean to die

at a point in time, buddha, athena and me cronus, will work to bring you to your next life, you see

too many people abuse their bodies and not believe in what we can do to help, i feel better now

no more toothaches, and athena, worked on my body for me to **** out my pains, in order to do that

you need to relax, and imagine you are having an operation, by yours truly, athena, and then no matter how much it hurts

you don’t stress out about this, because there is one difference about paranormal medicine, and that is

it’s all done in relaxation, buddy, if you have mentally ill voices, you deal with them and fly over all your mates

like i saw pat, working on earth, there are easier ways, to have this work, but i am showing real positive suffering

yeah, i do put on weight, when people weigh me, but i still no how to avoid, big health problems like i am on

seroquel and serenace, yeah i will die one day, but, i want to inform the people, if you wanna keep having fun

you have to do it my WAY, i only say this, because, i haven’t got MONEY, to see a proper doctor, i do see mental health workers

weekly, but, none of my cholesterol tests, have been a problem, i am sure the doctor would tell me if there was

i am getting help, my bowels past through, i am helping people cross over, and tomorrow, i will fill a form, so i can

work at common ground, in gungahlin, a home to house the homeless, i need to rid negative voices, while i am there

and these voices, are making me worry about the mates i have at vinnies and discussion group in kippax, and

at present, i hear voices from an old mate, at first i said, in a nice cherrie way, ******* ****, I HAVEN’T SEEN YA FOR A LONG TIME, PAT

but, i was, very sick and also in denial about how i dealt with it, i was getting teased by a man at work, he was asking me to clean his hub cap

i did it, but he still teased me, i was too ashamed to tell my dad, but i told the boss, i didn’t see him since, i don’t want those voices

for hopefully when i start at common ground because, i hate the whole concept of paid work, but it’s not about the money, it’s about

me being stuck in north south 3 hours of paid work a week, and work hard in volunteer work, at common ground, i want to be treated like

as good helper, rather than too good for us, i can do anything, i have great ideas and athena and buddha, are busy, but i always have money

in the COSMOS, i would love to get paid to HELP, but being a volunteer is just as good, i uppercased HELP, cause i am in favour of HELPING PEOPLE ANYWAY

and i know how many homeless people sleep in CIVIC, because i hung there all the time, once upon a time, i still do, but i need to work at common ground

cause i can cheer these people up, with poems or even a meal a few times a week, please clear my mind athena, so i can help at common ground

and so i can have a great holliday in adelaide at the end of the year, my dream, is to make common ground better than ainslie village, if ya know what i mean

i am not leaving little young dudes on their own when i seek athena’s help, i am just thinking, athena has helped me before now, so why not

i prefer to just keep all this in the cosmos, though, I WILL HELP AT COMMON GROUND, OK DUDES

I HATE PEOPLE TO WORRY ABOUT MY DAY IN 1990

"Clouds fly high above the ground,
And I am a matchbox trying to burn the whole forest down."

"Don't you like greyish green? Do you mind an effeminate sin?"

"Please, hark the chords of faith, farewell to the newest gloss of hate!"

"Not yet, you're going out to stand alone on the ocean to sink down all the ships"

"But was I not a matchbox trying to burn down all those castles of retreat?"

"Good, now, chew the essence of worth, and bid goodbye to those sinking voices in the dark.."

"But colors. My colors where would they go?"

"I mean 86 dimensions for this show?
"

"Metanoia? You mean? A war to room all falsities?"

"No, but you won't mind some fiction, would you?"

"As true as an age. And ages and ages on a dead planet, untrue"

Go there for your rota
There for your orders
Fill up the quotas
We'll bill for you quarters
Report to your foreman
But watch for construction
Cause if you get hurt you've damaged our property

Did you not read the Company policy?
That defines you as the Company's property
That waivers your say in autonomy
The conglomerates got you in lock and key
We put the dollar back into idolatry
If you're upset you can rent an apology
We're a family forged in bureaucracy
No I in "team" but there's "con" in economy

Were you expecting rights?
Were you hoping for fairness?
My friend you're indentured and pleasure's exempt from your tenure so venture back down to your slum
That's provided at generous prices
Your worth is determined by your sacrifices

A small term of service when down of the surface
Interment's a freebie that comes with the purchase

We work
To earn the right to work
To earn the right to give
Ourselves the right to buy
Ourselves the right to live
To earn the right to die

Freebie's are not
Me, I'm a hardworking
mujer. I take what I can
Get, I give my heart from
What I bet, I leave past behind
And do forget, the crime's of other's
Of fateful mess, but I do my best if
Someone else don't like, it's OK I'm
Fine, I'll be alright, because on when I
Shine, I will pass the other's who do not
My heart was broken long ago, now it's better
I've grown some, I have lost a little, gained some.
Tossed a light extra baggage to the side, sweet twenties,
For some a year for parties, nightclubs and the fake life.
Twenties for me is ballerina and me, my daughter, and I hope
To be somebody's wife.

Free
Rush
Extra
Entact
Boxers
It's
Extra

It used to be simple,
but life is not a freebie.
Now I find myself searching,
but people cannot see me.
I'm learning all the facts,
but my memory is whack.
I am right on time,
but I am right off track.
What is time anyway?
You ever thought of that?
I put myself before the clock,
so I'm next up to bat.
I take a swing and I dream
about life as a welcome mat.
If more people opened up,
then everyone would think like that.
Cut my hair for something fresh,
so I don't have to spend the cash.
Working hard to carry on,
remembering just where I'm at.
So much stress in each chapter,
but please don't ever look back.
Life is full of hope and darkness,
nothing is ever exact.

I'll regret you in the morning
but for now, lets have some fun
there's nothing on the telly 
and my working day is done.
I won't call you tomorrow
or even on the next
no need to be your facebook friend
or waste my freebie texts.

I need your taste to thrill me
as into your warmth I slide
with a groan of pure enjoyment
as my stresses run and hide.
I love to taste your honey
as it settles on my tongue,
My God I love you whiskey,
think I'll have another one.

Love is pure
Are you sure?
The hearts get lured
But not insured
The feelings get broken
When love finally is woken
One sided love sick
But the other has their own pick
A handsome fellow or a wealthy chic
Love is no longer pure
It's just a bait to lure
Then left out for sure
Most of us would agree
That love comes as free
So we all take it
Cause love doesn't grow on trees
It's a freebie token
You get tossed once you are broken...

©sim

lately i feel like
your all i really got
but like everyone else i love
im the only one who talks
absent with the congregation
cant be selfish today
so i try not to bother you
with all i wont say
stomaches full of nerves
that make me feel i rot
so nervously i sweat when im
not even hot
every tear has a story
as well as salt that packs
in my tears, no wonder i
reflect so much fat
all i wants to be humble
and get my love returned
instead like the dead my hearts
needing an urn
wheres investments return
dont wanna go through this
wheres jesus christ, let him know i
have now found judas
sometimes i feel "***** this"
"that, him and her"
innocence is extinct in ones i
felt were so pure
so infered is the absurd uncured
desease that plagues me
i now understand how my
enemies passionately hate me
cause lately i hate me
so greatly as well
cant threaten me with the devil, im already
used to this hell
everyones **** ****** smells
mine and all of yours
snow white was trying to tell me
most woman are ******
in drawers of seven dwarfs
who no wonders either sleepy
***** or grumpy when will
i get a break or freebie
dark shadows pass so creepy
most people are deceitful and greedy
i swear i can almost feel
my soul wants to leave me
just like everyone leaving
loyaltys not a common relic
no wonder all we feel is so
uncalming and jealous
why cant i find strength embelished
prior used to front
but i rather be killed then *******
heartlessly hunt
and maybe thats why before you
i kneel and cry
asking for the mercy of death
i see such peace in the eye
of the one you will cry
for if they die but roughly
im jealous at funerals wondering
why im not so lucky
so in the name of the father
son and holy spirit
i pray if i dont see death today
that im hopefully near it
.....amen

It is time for me to shed tears now,
Those fragile dews that hate to mirror anything;
So afraid it'll come out misjudged.

There is beauty somewhere in this:
My tears and sighs that fall hard, protected by your
Own brand of freebie umbrellas.

Unguarded, you tried to flee from this misery that diluted us.
But haven't you learned, love, that there's no use in running away?
It'll catch up with you like a manic breeze.

I knew long before, that this crossing was laid out
For you and me. Those white flecks don't mean anything;
It is how we cross that matters.

It has become morose now, this road. Too wet and unhealthy
For both of us to roll on. But I see the possibility
That lay ahead, that mild flicker of hope under those shared umbrellas.

That frailty that subdues our world,
It's only a vicious mind-game the weather plays.
Look how the clouds blacken and groan, the acid drops coming to reign.

Shalini Nayar
(c) 2002

I’ve been eating popcorn
out of my hat.

It was a freebie that I picked up
at the Gower town fair.

The hat advertises the
centennial anniversary of some local bank
that I’d not heard of until that day.

It was a hot day.
The sun was brutal,
trying to beat us down.

(Pops, the boys, & I.)

We’d walked the perimeter
of the park,
the town square,
in our efforts to see what was what.

We eventually settled on some
kettle corn,
a couple of BBQ
sandwiches apiece.

We’d brought
gas-station fountain drinks
with us;
sneaked ‘em right on in.

My sons found the rides
straightaway.

They spent about $20 of
mine and my own father’s
money.

They masked up,
were cautiously carefree;
stopping for squirts
of sanitizer between
swings, bounces, and bumps.

Pops and I
found a bench
away from everyone else.

I’d gotten him a hat too.

We used them to shield
our heads, our eyes
for the afternoon.

Today,
mine’s an impromptu,
improvised popcorn
bowl.

I’d lined it with a couple
of unfolded brown paper napkins
first;
proud of my ingenuity.

As I poured my first
cap full,
I could almost hear
my wife’s chiding
words.

I chuckled to myself
and

didn’t write them down.

I wrote these instead,
while I munched another
handful of popcorn
from my hat.

*
  
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020

Kindness
Is
The sweetest freebie that politicians should use.

my father never let me win at miniature golf...
tantrum prone youth of yesteryear
didn't see the plot twist...
perched: again... crow like 6ft2
246pounds of me... fat toss: bulge...
and some - semi-decaying octopus magic fingers...
yeah... father never let me win at miniature
golf...
              but whereas he leaves
some of the sudoku: hyper-geometries open
to discussion...
       i leave mine completed...
no competition...
              not when a sober mind does
that a drunk would double: for a fee...
the currency of face-masks and looking into
jainism... or... contra ****** recognition
in place: contra the niqab...
i have all the excuses to...
     ninja-doodle my way through...
central london's pedestrian traffic...
    then again... being a smoker...
the old habit of harking up some phlegm
and spitting it onto the pave...
      with a face-mask? none of that...
but... i'll keep one spare pocket for these
facemasks... i'll have... grounds for...
religiosity and... heightened secular:
scientific sensibilities...
and the media folk vill be 'appy...
                             yes... it's already a **** show...
yes it was already a **** show:
i'm not going to: told you so: sow:
genius me... what rules did i comply to...
that would... otherwise... estrange me my
daily, routine - focus?
              pretty much... none of it...
        what has happened... and... extend that
into a time-lapse of years...
               oh sure... even my neighbours...
such... budding social lives...
friends... when friends were available
when at school...
work friends... so... those people you
****** around with for: doll... payment of good
grades... replaced with people who...
A-grade their presence for...
a baguette they will... most certainly...
not share with you?
yoyo-effect slimming...
                     i did that once...
lost virginia in the attic... and came out...
scarred for not being...
   one of the two part ensemble...
given: killing two birds with one stones...
unless... strap-on-a-***** to my forehead...
wait a moment...
no... clearly muhammad didn't foresee
the harem as... being filled with strap-on:
***** wielding lesbians...
after all: i only have 2... she has 3...
                        holes...
             - since von krafft-ebing times...
before freud...
             ******* was considered as
taboo as... performing *******...
     these days... that's the gold standard of
consent and: "ritual"...
you foreplay each other...
   big deal over jerking off: genocide flushed...
a measure of blood-pressure...
otherwise i'd surface with:
she has my **** stitched in all the right places...
everything is being automated...
here's to: going with the flow...
                      checking blood-pressure
or... blood sugar levels...
the old norm the new norm...
      no toy story: of that... i am sure...
and... well... for what could... could have been
a ***** bank...
if english existentialism is anything
to go by... it's certainly not a talk over
coffee or a beer...
it's a ***** bank donation...
all orc seriousness: my d.n.a. primo!
you! dodo! project!
                    and... would you like a kippah
with that? or an u.f.o.?
- then... "all of a sudden"...
darwinism pops up again:
survival of the fittest... and...
the men and their needle-in-a-haystack:
spines of mollusks...
perhaps "there"...
                "where"... and a heart could
be summoned... alternatives though...
the self-implosive critical mind of...
regurgitated facts and figures...
geared up... for "knowledge" / trivia...
at a pub quiz... storage space that...
will become... derelict... a housing project
for ghosts and having reached
a zenith of an amnesia-paradox...
chances are: you probably will remember
a "self"...
                      nonetheless!
vacated time and space...
                        so much for the trivia...
and... so much for the encyclopedia brain-drain...
back to basics: i like tomato soup...
i like pasta al dente...
    i think that to heighten appetite...
al fresco works miracles...
as does... drinking a 7.2% thatcher's vintage
cider... than any amount of wine...

- i'll hate myself for writing this...
but...
       let's get into the porridge...
87% of white women would want
to **** a black man...
meme tag... i guess: most probably
a zulu... since... all the rest:
didn't run fast enough to escape
the netting... or were... sold by their chieftans
for a bribe of cheetos...
the usual ****** treatment:
kan kan: and dunk b'ruh...

        but i guess... in reverse...
about 6% of white men would want
to **** a black girl...
lucky for me i'm 6.1%...
in that i did... "somehow"...
then again... she was well portioned...
i had my coccyx inside-out...
and i was missing my 12" *******
toy freed from the blue-pills-of-V...
and she lost her inflateables:
buttocks and sprinting the marathon
bones...

and it was that old school feral sort
of ****...
i ended up looking for a plum
in between the ***** hair region:
a second chin.. not the fold...
but she was... sculpted like...
nothing that might require a 12" ******
to begin with...
the kama sutra says it plain:
rabbit **** don't **** an elephant ****
for the elephant ****'s satisfaction...

give on... give off...
i want to laugh but then...
unlike these white girls...
sorry... i don't find black women attractive...
unless in kenya...
and she's looking like an oily grain
of coffee...
you can see the skin... melt in sunlight...
excavations in limbo land:
l.s.d. is missing and we only have
latex gimp-suits to fire-up the imagination...

perhaps the statistics is true...
white women want... what white women want...
but i'm a white man: pork...
catch me in august and i'm
a spaniard / half removed cousin of
a spaniard... perhaps damascus was
once my home...
             but i must be: blitzing the krieg
with fiddling some spaghetti...
when: i'd be in clear want of...
******* liquid chocolate...
or... kenyan liquorice quicksilver...

me throw pennies at crows
or me throw bags of sugar at the rascal
macaques...
same ****: different cover...

     presiding over the coming of
a "reincarnated" Elijah:
the heart of the son will return to the father...
the heart of the daughter will return to the mother...
no one is to feed themselves the narrative
of the nag hammadi: "being" freed...
when one transitions: with expert advice
from the medical profession: from male to female
and... vice versus...

sorry... what's fit for the dickens?!
just because white girls like...
doesn't imply white boys like too!
if white girls like:
   and white boys are looking for
the harem of mr. lemon... squinting:
because the sun's too much in beijing...
and all that's clearly worth...
doing much ado about... nothing...
japanese porcelain skins...

       i imagine a reverse insurgence of
the mongolian horde of pseudo-orc...
                and a pseudo-islam:
spikes in the frequency of terrorism
as "they" come to defend the ummah...
and take root in Xinjiang...
  such pride... concerning...
           what's a memory of Jaffa...
and... the prospect of Sarajevo...
          i'm bored ****-less with this:
notion of "invasion" without
bullet, bite of grit or tank...

                - standards in "males":
primo standard... not ******* enough...
coming across a hit dough & nut that knows
how to... "been there... ****** enough":
the linear projection of my youth now
exhausted: i need a low-to-high libido:
strap-on ****-of-a-man...
to wed me for the joys of crosswords
puzzles and...

the hyper-gemotry of sudoku...
157869324
983452176
246731598
821976453
394125687
67534­8912
568213749
719684235
432597861   (less a square...
think of a cube! a cabana cigar) -

                  i think of a hard-on
like i think about spring...
and... strawberries...
and small... asian hands working
their magic around the detail
of solding electronic parts together...
unicorns and mermaids...
and alien invasions that begin
with blockjobs rather than **** probing;
i guess i'm just being old-fashioned...

the good old days of drinking a pint
oif bourbon and paying little richard
a visit to the bulgarian...
                        lasso of a dead cow...
and the church of journalism...
the tabloid oopses and poops...
*******: further und mutter...
there was no glorious:
pwetty son  - brass shoulders of
an atlas pose...
a university degree in chemistry is
probably a step-back from being
an apprentice plumber...
and this mundane talk of wasted:
years doing social-science bluffs...

i am in the most fired-up dire need
of *** like...
no... i'm more prone to be asking:
dreamless sleep...
the *** can happens beside me...
with pickled brains...
insects and everything else hyperventilating...
tripping on a fusion
of m.d.m.a. and ****** -
      drunk and *** was **** gang for
her... deprived from: audience at the proper
"the end" of sabbath...
standards of men: what?!
the ones caged not having enough
practice shooting placebos and blanks?
while she: hail she! ave she!
she gets a thirst for threesomes
and the lost... blank...  jerker...
because... her: missing part...
fifth wheel handy is missing to
excavate the **** the floral pattern:
the kissing the children good: night?

i say sooth: i say dilute: i say:
here comes the beer...
this is not the 1960s and the rolling stones
and the sort of women to settle down with:
freebie bandies: banshees
and all that's missing are the:
she's still much afraid of the foxes cackling
in close conduct with the magpies...
before and after: she's afraid of the dark
like richard the lionheart...

going to visit the three tiers of P was never
easier... first the priest: eviently self-discredited...
then the psychiatrist / psychologist...
verbiage for the latter...
big pharma for the former...
and then... bulgarian prostitutes...
c.b.t. ******* with no touch...
but i'm a slave to the octopus when
it comes to being loved up...

87% of white women would **** a black
man... 13% of me says:
i'd for 90% of black women... when there
was a 99% chance of making the exception,...
and i will never bring my 12" g.i. joe
for the buttocks of semi-inflateable:
necessity to sink sort of buttocks:
but run as a cheetah it will...
no aquaman 'ere:
                      there's no "there": period...

brazil.. perhaps... a post-ethnic project...
argentina: too many t'zees: khaki burns...
puked mustard shirts... dijon ala: no dijon...
burnt mahoghanny flirt...
brazil the post-racial project...
no 12" **** envy... no... freed *** inflatables
and: sprints 100m under 10 seconds...
take about a lifetime to swim 50m...
and... bothers citing the "question"
of the anchor...
loses weight... takes to the marathon
as an ethiopian pseudo-***...
jumps the high... jumps the long...
but doesn't... jump the pole...

    aquaman contra king kong...
the crab the piglet and...
       unless she's the queen of sheba...
or nefertiti... and there isn't...
a lament of solomon...
              
      - and in general: this ****-sodden-pile
of maggot *****: smart talking cockneys
and smooth itching libido:
first come, first served:
new buddha wave sort of:
   "res vanus" hustling boyscouts of:
never-to-never: first come...
you... no g'lot... every other fwyday...

- all in all: a smart-eyed-up piece
of cockers... or cockney...
baron leverage - the rhyme... or the shlang...

ooh... me loves a whittle bits of
"misunderstandings":
cordiality... let me get m'ah dictionary out...
violence of words...

blood is thicker than water...
except for the custard...
and all that ******* pie..
because... what's paying 10quid for the turk
and the "madamme" for entry...
110 quid for the hour of blatant
butchering...
affectionate my ******* ***...
and then... a top up of a tenner tip
to mince a ******* oysters' worth
of **** for a "tip"!
what's that?

  look at my tongue... tattooed
with a bunch of that sorry **** of detials
for: excalibur... that one...
and only... sorry... tax dough
cough up!

           easier than ******* a mannequin...
pretend doll: pre-tend...
            five nigerian with machetes
walk into a bar...
one albanian counters...
the machetes are like...
               christmas tree deocrations
when the albanian hears the threat...
he's married... he was two duaghters...
so much for zulu warrior: nigeria
2.0 orc...

            when the albanian goes
full on schizoid... steps out of his body...
entertains the soul...
and... there's talk of...
the grace of the guillotine...
among the: newly become...
scuttling nigerian rats...

                  having entertained ***...
makes me... a rather... deviant creature...
i quiet enjoy the violence
served up by peace...
all this... troy of verbiage of comfort
and... pedantry... and that quote:
of a gang...
     ******* vulvas is for *******...
annals of ****: toe-dipping
two-'ere-one!

- as we are: at our best...
the most civil of: ****... entertain-ers...

take up a civil case with the pun...
much later: or no later...
what did a rhyme ever... do to you?

Every freebie
has a tariff.

When you pray for rain
be prepared for mud.
When you pray for sun
be prepared for drought.
And when you pray for peace
be prepared for war.

Every granted wish
carries a price.

You cant make your worth known
To those who would steal it
By giving a freebie to any who feel it
Your soul is expensive as is your mind too
So to cheapen your time is to cheapen you

You succeed.
In laws of three. You will find the peace you
Wish to believe exists but for now is hidden under heaving fits of painful death, a test to draw out that which never minds rejecting the demands of other beings
Hammer under nail, no compare to restless privy minds slowly counting time until the new tragedies arrive.
Release your hold of pieces calling out for pain to pair once treasured memories. Now staring out with infectious longing, ready to be looked upon smirking and expectant the turncoat thoughts revel in the task at hand. Their assault starts as soon as the thought is called
Aftermath
Released to the gravity, by themselves they fall apart
Into place, covering flesh torn with sympathy
Released from beasts that grit their teeth in painful defeat, as, yes,
you rise to your feet, Torn to pieces, yet completely at peace, distant memory terror dreams distort to bring chaotic memoirs of cataclysmic merriment.
You utilize the pieces to assure your release from pains prison to pleasant pastures. Please just remember never obey the masters. Create sarcastic narratives pledging senators to heretics. Don't trust fantasy banner ******* brand name Promoters. Lœsers leading children to sheep eye machîne, specially crafted master adapters hard wire minds to the one percent agenda, intuition driven minions giving men to temptress, hoof to fenthris, dope to misfits, coke bottles to **** maker accomplices driven awkward and subsequently dove off for bottom place.
Freebie

I mote it. Be recieved with sight conscious of that which truth and wisdom delight.
Everfolding hands coalesce in geometry of design, symbols to be applied to help those who can't live. Honestly.
A prophetic glance manifests what this prophet percieves within this mess.

This species will mirror the mentality of the dust
It's depths a source of nourishment and plenty to us, the rust
Will we find the hero to navigate the puppetmasters collective cluster conglomerate commissioning commonwealth copperpot penny peasantry meat, footwoorkin the fleet floggers, ambushing citizens in the streets with collars, brainwashing caverns codependent on caging the masses like sheep to slaughter.
"But if we'd known we'd scream and holler! I'd rise to protect my property, my guns, my freedoms, my rights!"
Right, no, I'm sure you'd fight, you'd obviously gather friends to your plight, indigenous rage at the thought that the night would defend those evil shadow people encroaching on your ability to reason.
Shut the **** up, what the **** have you done to avenge those innocents of fate, unknowingly recollecting secrets of the state
Hate not flaking over city lake waters like mirrors hiding secrets well obvious.

Money & public resources alleviate proof of collusion simple doors of power hold new potential outcomes timed each revolution the little hand dares to travel. that of a sacrifice, willing or not, to help scare the sheep into buying as much of their stock, if your worried please do not, the flock will forget what they saw as soon as the image and story are gone.

Gotta be.

A solution so fitting it belongs in the movies, but that's how we forgot how to think, outside
For ourselves,for them, or the others
Rebelling as one towards sisters and brothers
*******, I need show my true face
Walk calmy down the streets,
Calm sure pace.
Talk macabre to the one's who own the fleets, spread the sheets to occupy the godhead, sift the merry morning stocks press against the current sea, then bust out enough to make me n mine a new currency.
Probably
Not so sore plot B soars blotting lenses before but not training more thoughts to war forescore before plot thickening remorse runs it course.
A new day in gotham city means unity throughout forgotten realms of hypocrisy. A cure-all demonstration that revels insanity for placid reasonably dressed persons composed, unfearing conversations of dominating resolve, stoicism spinning round professional mannerisms focusing on abilities that take the core of our rotten hearts and heal the waste, now it stays, hurting less sounds okay away from the corrupted hunting of weak willed pumpkins jumped over plummeting suns, all for one's been a worn out joke, once well spoken juxtaposed to unholy notions unnaposed sides take thrill **** maxxing to disastrous uprising in past the warcasters
Talked with the enemy over tea and brunch of tables shared only with tokens of luck, fliping thrice indicates which squadron lots gets iced.
Word gets out and like fire it don't take much for a war to sprout in the bogs of ire, but before it's allowed, the dog rise together finally to figure **** out, creating together masterpieces on earth to reoccur annually until our home is brought back to a state we continue symbiotically.
Fate to be

**** it all, the last of my regrets was all reasoning needed to keep breathing.
Something other than this wretch that I am
Existing for no reason but to help others pass the seasons with my singing

the darkness of the hour
the minute
and the day
now the second
and the universe has come

i have unplugged my 3rd pair
of eyes
from my constipation
and now as my mind
relaxes
i see her and i

don't see her
and i'm not going to advantage
myself a card of James
Joyce
and Finnegans Wake
and the daughter's premature
dementia
perhaps the ill fates
of those who begin to write
and write with meaning
rather than journalistic
mumbo jumbo
let's ***** a statue
of a writer like
Sienkiewicz at the end
of that long straight street
of Kielce

siala baba mak
nie wiedziala jak
chlop powiedziel
a reszte to bylo tak...

missing like
i was missing at Wembley
yesterday
and through most of today

i'm living an organic life
i overheard
the news i wanted to hear
on the radio today...
at 4pm
just as about the serpents
were uncoiling from
the suntans... freckled ginger
nightmares...

only 56 arrested...
plenty of IC3 Black Hitlers
making fun of Asians
in turbans
notably the Sikhs
it's like you
invited one sort in
and another sort appear
and...

i wouldn't be drinking
but let's face it...
the literary genius of Bukowski
as a... as a... ******* postman
and the genius of me
well... perhaps a Miroslav Holub
the benchmark of writing and
science
but then there's too much Greek
referential in it...

MONEY IS LOGIC
i said those words with love in love
and when i tell her
this isn't going to work
life became gravity
and my heart became hardened
she still doesn't believe me
like now
i'm matching her pound for pound
and i'm shrinking to the pride
of a Dwarf living among
Men and Elves
but i'm becoming a cunning fox of a peddle
no stool... a hobbit
a sort of Irishman
of Europe
naive but still persuasively accurate
in my reading of reality:
now becoming abstract
now not so abstract
now becoming abstract
now not so...

      and this life and breadth of losing breath
on speaking come and hount
me
imagine someone: also writing
while doing their "supposed"
wage labor... enslavement
well what is to allow differentiation
between en masse dictatorial of
a tiny minority to another tiny minority
to another one
form Poutin through to Twump
and to no who in Damascus

because looking into those eyes
of CP (close protection)
former Deutsche police officers
those chauffeurs
of the "stars"
where one looked like Roberto Martínez
so i asked: is... is there anyone important
making arguments here
for a discounted entry, i.e. for free?

well i was mapping and mapping
my supposed schizoid hemispheres
onto the schematics
and drawings...
i was allocated the supposedly
deafening of defeat placement
at the Spanish Steps where the infamous
Wembley breach happened back
in 2020...
but that was on a national level
with a national interest in bread
some circus
perhaps football
but who can tell given that most football
fans are not opera fans
and i could indulge drinking heavily
before going to the opera
but going to a football match
i don't understand why or how
a sport is to be enjoyed intoxicated
rather than sober...
drink too much and instead
of 22 wankers with 20 running
and... one shift
i was left mesmerized just watching
the officials
notably the sideline priests

MONEY IS LOGIC
and sometimes i shift from watching a game
to watching the crowd
to watching the grass
to watching the floodlights
to watching the sideline referees
and that's that
and i'm no more happy than discontent
than less happy than discontent
and i ponder Hemmingway's simplification
and then i just allow things
to flow
without haiku interruptions

and i was so gearing up to being on the Dortmund
side for the event
i was so shy in jokingly choking
on spewing out, in a shout

words much ascribed to the fetish of:

ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG!
ARBEIT MACHT FREI!
ARBEIT MACHT FREI!
ABLENKUNG MACHT ZIEGELNAGEL...

ZIEGELNAGEL:
******* doft dorft ooze SCHTOOPI'D!
some "things" need reworking
and revision

i much preferred the Deutsche fan demure
and i'm Catholic
as ******
and the French are Catholic
and the Spanish are Catholic
and so much ethnocentric scribblies
in America from Hin Land
and Cha -
   i mean: what's a ****** to do
if not swerve: entertain...
ride rollerblades round and round
on a roundabout: backwards
listening to Mario and Luigi's cassette
seriously dude, seriously GANDU...
gandu gandu...
no joke

that's me Wallace and Gromit
i call Warren
and Ahmed Ahmed and Uzeer the ****-
-stani
joking about putting wooden knives
in each other's pockets
to have to peer at and through 90K people
congregating to have
run

so there was this Muhammad Muhammad
who felt ill and decided to go home...
i stood there among charging police
horses and barking police dogs
while about 300 people ran across the cement
while i was holding a freebie
worth circa £1000...

steward accreditation and a high viz jackets
and you think i was stopped?
you think i was stopped?
i'm experiencing a hyper reverse engineering
of voyeurism
on my skin
like this skin has become leather...

beside from Hamza and Sikander
i was not exactly given a hot take on staff
and it turns out as
the cordon was put in place and about 30
papa echoes stood in front of
about 40+ stewards and SIAs
i was standing in front of the cordon
ensuring legitimate customers
were ushered in
while the pranksters were being
pranked
because the UEFA tickets were interactive
and required special pen UV or not
just PINK with dotted lines

well to one argument i said:
but i know you're lying
by the face you used to lie...
and the argument counter
said: but this is my face...
to which i replied:
honestly: this is my face too...
a joyful attention to detail
and to think that drinking is a good excuse
but i drink to excuse flourishing
in a heightened environment for
stress hormones to exfoliated
and drip-feed-me
this inexhaustible feeling of furor...

i drink to excuse myself
even today while i settled down
to an afternoon with father
and we talked about Martin
and that bewilderment:
but i drink a liter of whiskey
and what... beer killed him?
ten bottles that's 5 liters of beer killed
him, every day for 2 years
well by that account i ought to be
dead
and i know my head is hurting
not because of a dehydrated brain
i say the brain bleeds
and the brain sweats
but i'm constipated hence the nail
in the head

        so i made us a halloumi (grilled)
entree on a salad
of cucumber, pepper, plum cherries (tomatoes)
salad greens,
radishes... and roasted pecans and hazelnuts
with a dressing
of oyster sauce,
yogurt, chili infused olive oil
blah blah
ouzo - citrus infused soya sauce blah blah
we had a beer and we talked
and i was just wondering:
am i just tired...
no i haven't had anything to drink
but at least he understands
and will know: he's tired...

and i was tired
and blah blah blah...
well if i were to have my last days spent
in the presence of my father
cooking him dinner
having had an adventure
at Wembley
and exchange that
for ****** favors for about a year
with Edie...
conversation-wise
can she even hear me?
i wonder...
even Reyla wonders whether she's heard
i too wonder:
i don't think i am heard
i don't think Edie hears me
i talk to her and it's as if she's the one wanting
to talk talk talk talk chalk
talk talk chalk chalk talk chalk...

MONEY IS LOGIC

that's the words i sent her
when i contemplated going to visit
a brothel
last night
it became painfully stupid once
i was on the N128 on Cranbrook Rd
heading toward Romford
that i was in no mood
for ***
or for that matter paid for ***
and with no fear of a libido:
maybe if i had a ****-ring on me
i would have
but that's my and Edie's discover
but i didn't bring the right sort
of rubber with me
i had already withdrawn
         over £700 and i told her

but if i can't sleep on your lanai
like a dog

but if i can't sleep on your lanai
like a dog?!

           dogs... who cannot sweat
but excessively salivate...
well: so much for the purpose of mascara
of the camel lashes
of your young girls walking about
like miasmas of ghosts of beauty
that once was
that i almost had a dream of women
who would slice rotting onions
in half and then smear their bodies
with to imitate getting a suntan
in winter...

             yes: i am yet to undertake
the task of learning from hallucinogenic au naturale...
from fungi
from LSD papercuts on the brain...           (papper?)
it figured... all that potential, wasted,
on those happy-go-****-me hippies from the 1960s
so much potential squandered
there was no gearing up to something
rightwing
coherent,
when exploring these territories for a flavour
of what only was a timidity of an Huxley...
(payper - paper - papper - patting - pet hates
no bounce bounce in titter - tittering -
no giggle in ****** - just a word, a spelling
accuracy - get away with Saka and inking
someone darker
and we have colts with Spanish fans
returning from the match on the Metropolitan
Line-Z_

                    whoops!               )

and i did walk into my room stark naked
with all the constellations
when Reyla was sleeping in it
a 13 year old girl
and i laid by the bed
like a guard, dog
and i was rudely woken up
and told to move
because somehow nakedness outside
of the hyper-context of ***
is not simply birth
and death and all beside
the supposed thrills of taboo...

well it's not like i was starstruck either
i saw Jamie Redknapp (i didn't know
there was a silent K in that surname)
at Fulham once
but yesterday i saw him twice
or rather the first time i didn't see him
but was merely giving him directions
and what disappointed me
was rules being broken
for a familiarity contest
because a somewhat some-what-may
of having previous affiliations of
"guarding" poo-poo-puppy of a son
that Quadrant that "frenchie"
oh jeez...

          well i too performed a Hajj
to the innermost residing place
of the visage and i too
found Jesus to be misguiding
with that affair of long hair and bearded
that look is so...
so...
so ******* outdated...
it should be made... illegal...

not that i am: drunk, or high...
i'll leave that scrutiny of "policing"
to the federalists on sleep patrol...
because i don't know why...
somehow this separation of church-
-from- -state
while this nagging insistence
on no separation of...
LANGUAGE from STATE...
it's as if we're living in a time
a wasted time
a waiting upon time no time no waiting
to begin with
a time of a LANGUAGE-STATE...

echoes of interpretation from the East
i hear rumors...
a CIVILIZATION-STATE
equivalent of Rome
Russia
China...

so what? now we're all literate
yet illiterate in coding?
not able to use chatGPT
i was having a conversation with a girl
of my dreams
face unveiled yet hair covered
like i abhor hair
like i love flies in champagne in flutes
of glass
like this doesn't really matter anyway
like i want a late Monday
while the cats keep coming
uncircumcised because
you can't circumcise a cat's phallus
but instead castrate them
why not then castrate the Semites
and call them the ****** breed of intellect
just shying from the joke
of circumcision?!

         SARDAUKAR...
and what are not the Mongol chants
in Dune?

SARDAUKAR...
and what are not the Mongol chants
in Dune?

plagiarism, cultural appropriation?
you tell me...
the Mongols came to Poland
the Mongols didn't reach England
the Mongols didn't reach England...

SARDAUKAR
i can sing like a Mongol hunger-strike
protest...
HUMUMGUNGUNGOON
SUMBOONKAKOOMAMOON

SARD­AUKAR...

with all the bowels and stomach
and no eyes and no mind
all bowels and heart
and echo
and no breath.

the 56 sardaukarii.

the "talent"... the "genius"... it comes as freely as
freely it goes... such words are not... rhetorical:
zoological keepers...
and then: ****! gone!
because... you and i and
we all can forgive rhyme into extending its...
welcome presence... because:
i'm thinking about... peeling tangerines...
i'm thinking about peeling
grapes... akin to a diana krall new york
episode... i'm thinking about...
eating spaghetti bologanise
while also eating canned peaches...
when feeding a nostalgia
oyster when watching *******
***** of hollywood
via lethal weapon II...
sharp objects - and led zeppelin's
in the evening...
what pristine sort of love
is my sort of love?
conversational love story that...
is forever anonymous?
this is supposed to be my sort
of love story...
the non-very-usual the-anonymous
new yorker fatigued with
urban literature of the quickened
i.q. scoop...
it's one of those billy joel
typo type o' moments of...
elsewhere beside a york,
an old york a new york:
most certainly outside a 7pm friday sloth
and all that cry-baby yogurt tomorrow
whipped up from...
if the concrete isn't lava...
then the forest isn't aloud with a flush
of wild fires!
some call it a Hudson,
some call it the Thames...
some call it...
the bog, the standard throne of thrones...
and some even dare call it...
Beckton central...
where all of high-flier *******
filled **** that kills the eels is
filtered along with the more:
basic quests of us... made complete...
easy as easy is loitering around
C# (c-sharp) when the whole world becomes
a zoo... of a people not diling telephone
numbers... calling it: the hashtag"blues"?
let's call it calling it...
the cul-de-sac and let's call it...
anything other than what it was
already...
the pine never dared to knock-knock-joke
into a forest of oaks...
as i would never ask for
furniture beside...
what became of the armchair in the eyes
of diogenese of sinope:
a cloud for the mind to care for the sky...
in that... the armchair was always to become
oyster shell...
and the armchair was
always going to become
a harem sofa... the dirt associated with
the priting press... and the distorted ink
that was always going to run dry
or inflated in pavlova berry miser-mix-up...

piano keys played over the worth of
slices of loaf / bread...
and that grand sleeper gang...
because... the swinging pawtee was...
slap-sticking themselves to give out
freebie clues...
and i was... my usual mundane self...
less travelled... because...
even if it was a viagara-fuelled trip
to Moscow St. Petersburg...
there was a Cracow... there was Edinburgh...
there was a Paris and a Venice...
solo yob... sighs from Mombasa...
and catching macaque
with bags of sugar for the ooh ooh applause
and shock-value antithesis selfies!
well...
               blonde-beast: that's also me...
not catching sand in a ****...
or a zephyr from... a surah of a quran...
that's also moi, whittle moi...

- and then give it a name:
a penny-for-the-wise...
for all that... would never would never
be spent...
loitering around sinatra's bank-account
madman use-by-date come
post-mortem and: those pennies
and those raindrops...
because it's always going to be:
******* forever h'americana...
and always the iraqi blues and...
the saudi: hush hush...

long live bad *** cowboy h'america...
and long live the antithesis...
wehrmacht hugo boss: to boot!
long live pure good...
love live pure evil...
long live the sächsisch sohn...
love live the preußisch vater...
long life... to any future...
naive... imbecile... and... coat of:
arms... the pressured combined:
loitering gestures of a sordid clown;
prischtine schpelling
quirks and notations of...
exemplifying exceptions!
or more or less...
the gravity of furniture...
for the love of furniture...
because whether it's a spoon,
a fork, a knife... or just the base
superstition hiding behind
chop-sticks / tooth-picks...
call it the fork or the spoon
or the knife...
when all you have left is...
your 10 digit bishops and the 32 cardinals
of ivory for that one tongue of pope...
or a bowl... tilting...
and no spoon... but a slurping sound...
which is: no spoon necessary...
so much for any worth surrounding
the status gentleman...
or barbarian... to grieve a would-be...
gimmick...
it's one of those kind of celebrations
that's reserved for the per se.

Dante and Milton
Dr. Cynthia Eby

Paradise divine
Grace is a freebie

An Episcopal priest
Like my girlfriend's father

Exoplanets above
Maybe Highwater

             Farther!