Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle.

Hair big enough to reach
The clouds,
Ambition strong enough
To sail through the
Massive, roaring crowds.

The lights - they feel
good.
The adrenaline - heart's pumping
The way it should.

Sing, dream - the way
You please.

Give 'em the old
Razzle dazzle,
Frizzle frazzle
To-night.

why is it so hard to see you?
i crumble and i croak
hopeful words dance at the back of my throat
now i’m hopeless
now i’m in a mess
of you or her or him or me
it’s like moving to a new country
and getting the hang of their weird plastic currency
and why the **** is talking to you so hard?
i tumble and i frizzle
a glass smashed into shards
aggravation takes me over because
anxiety takes me over because
suppression takes me over because
i want ******* control over ******* everything
i want to ******* know what i’m ******* doing
what i’m ******* thinking
i tremble and i palpitate
the thirst never sedates
like a lion ******* blood or a needle weaving thread
so much to go around
too much to go around
i’m not sure how to go about
underwater is where i wish i was
underwater, everything is muted
everything is calmer and resentments are diluted
i long to feel less polluted
i long to feel less consumed by
that and this and all the ******* frolicking ****
it pulls and tears and rips in shears
still standing there
i am still standing there
why the **** am i still standing there
here
like a fish suffocating in air
like a statue stands with a smile it can’t wipe off
i sweat under smiles
i want to wipe it off
i want to turn it off
why won’t i just ******* take it off?
why is it so hard to know who you are?
seeing a glimpse of a break down is making me stick around for you
do you still want me to stick around for you?
i crush and i tamper
with anything i can get my hands all over
it really doesn’t matter
what or who or how hard i hit
cause nothing is good enough for this ******* *****

.guess i must have hit the vein, nay, a ******* artery, must have gobbled down an oyster, muscle and brains altogether, simultaneously!

i have one, only one pet peeve...
that casual mainstream media
expression...

    but it's the 21st century!

i get the bollocking frizzle of
***** hair, translated into Janissary ******
attire... excited...

what the **** are you talking
about?

   21st century, what?
we're in our infancy!
            and what came prior?
you seem to forget the first half
of the 20th century,
and bulk in cultural
              expropriation of other
nations...

   us Poles had 100 years if liberty,
thank you very much...
we're not about to do the German
hip Berliner St. Vitus dance
magic, just yet...

******* hippies...

       Solidarity movement
pamphleteers, migrants of Florida,
bias, you name them...
yeah... "heroes"...

                    ******* usurpers,
Judases...
             and from the city i was born into...
where's the ******* metallurgy?
export of cheap labor,
originating in Spain!
      how's the youth unemployment
working for the Spaniards?
good? good good...
goof ******* *****!
   no say cheese in Swiss German
and show us the 42 teeth of over-perfecting
that schmile!

        Swiss guard, up & ****!
*******...

       i hate the sophistry,
loath it, baron over it...
this but it's the 21st century...
what sort of excuse is it?!
   there's not excuse!

                 reverting back to covert
popularization of prostitution?
even the Bulgar prostitutes lie,
about being Romanian,
i never tell them,
even though the word, dobrze...
   o.k,
    хорошо...
   is not a romanian word...
    you lie, you fry...
         i'm actually fond of making
chicken hearts, and pork liver sauces...
i can work the stoves...
             **** it... give me any meat,
i'll fry it... make a garlic onion sauce
out of it...
    nee bother...
   strawberries?
perfect fruit for smoothies...
tried it, just today,
with nein (nine) passiot fruits,
and an arithmetic for the one hand
including strawberries...
         crème fraîche replacing
yoghurt...
                          milk,
milk milk milk milk...

but...

what's the ******* excuse,
for making excuses of the 21st century
as the ******* pinnacle?
will the 22nd century look
fondly on us?
  
i'm only looking fondly for the death
of Lizzy II with much
anticipation, because of,
what i assume will not be the case
of Chuckles III,
rather, Georgie VII...

the 20th century passed...
what sort of excuse, in liberal terms...
is there to posit,
for keeping the Greenwich Mean Time?
frankly?
  the ******* excuse i've ever, ever,
heard!
         it's the 21st century...
whoop-tee-doo-daa
                        (H)    (H) -
told you... without the (YW) -
a god that's a vowel catcher...
or pivot for laughter...
can't get more hebrew-philic than i.

i ******* loath the: but it's the 21st century
argument...
    lost the italic lettering and the colon
from the use of bold -
monarchy?
  well, suit up & boot up
for the transgressive pomp & circumstance,
that alternative
to pride & prejudice...

  ha ha!
            god... laughing at oneself
is probably the only cure there ever will be...

but come on!
the: but it's the 21st century!
  
what sort of, argument, is that?
  it's not like ontology begot
an x-men algebraic variation,
an exponential derivative,
    a Holmes' hound of a bag of
necessary excuses!
      some ******-evolutionary leap
of benevolence
to excuse a connection of peer-to-peer
connectivity,
somehow erasing the 20th
century, and ennobling a... "fresh start"
with 21 as the fore!

i might be a peasant,
and i might drink to excesses some
people would wish they could
muster a stamina for...

  but please, leave the fairy tales to
the Danes,
  hans christian andersen and their
Grimm bro. counterparts...

but it's the 21st century...
**** me...
    you mean the ****-up century?!

o halogen light with CD
and cassette holder
how your ribs they envelop
a promise of symphony
as you stand tall and straight
like a guard at the gate
you relieve all my troubles
with your blinding light bubbles
you brighten my day
keep the shadows away
though your color is lightless
you make me so nightless
your a wiry lifeline
steals perception of time
how quick the hours fly by
i'll never know
top of your glow
to the tip of my toe
your electric insides
could frizzle the tides
and your mental effect...
well...
it gives me good rides

I lost the rhythm, dropped the beat, choked the chords.

I think I'm slipping through,

cemented feet, on the corner, of responsibility street,

and romance avenue.

A famine of feats, a loss of belief, what else have you?

never a clue,
what not to do.

Its hard to sit here
And not believe everything that I think
But my mind cant be trusted
When your words are like led paint
That you inject into my spirit everytime we talk
And I know its raining outside
But I really think we should walk
And will you hold my hand
When im electrocuted?
My mouth is a radio
My mind is a television
Ive never been original
Only regergatared
Ive never been original
This heart will always be contaminated
He asked me "when you go to sleep
Do you dream of electric sheep"
If anyone lacks empathy
Its you not me
Your insides are numb, ive always carried your pain
Now im looking for the remedy
To melt my static brain
But everyone has there ways
Of turning the world around
And im just trying to keep up
Before I crash into the ground

straw, dunned by driving rain
the frizzle of a watchman unmoving but for the wind
unmoved but for the wind
and by time
as he tends his modest charge

i do remember the scorn your encountered by the next of kin, for not having memorised the alphabet, to some stupid degree of accuracy, fetish of the french i call it... why not put all the vowels first and all the consonants after? so why care for the diabolical aristocratic monopoly on these symbols, having to cite a, b, c, d, e, f, g... rather than a, e, i, o, u, b, c? idiots! or should i say... ***** *******?*

i see friendship as a two tier system,
a friend allows you
to forget your reflective nature,
spelled out in the affirmative (
not compounded): your self...
but allows you the medium
they know you by, in a sense
the reflexive nature, spelled out
in affirmation: yourself.
the reflective nature of things stands
in unison with all the things
required: photosynthesis for example...
god still remains a complexity of language,
or how far language can complicate
matters so that no horrid activity can
fester... god is a word presiding over
the complication of the expression
of language, everything else is dumb-struck
deity orientation where we can laze
for an eternity: drunk, or gluttonous
or otherwise... but find me a drunkard who
composes on the additive? how many
drunk and therefore violent fathers
have crossed the threshold with drink
but wrote no single poem by medicating
on alcohol as an active sedative?
and how many partied on other drugs?
and dumb things drinking, while
the legislators caste in shadow of neither
vishnu blue, scandinavian bleach
hair and ivory skin or the african with
chocolate and auburn and short tailing-off
of curls turned to scorched frizzle of afro...
where among them the true identity of legislators?
nowhere... the masked identity to involve
a hidden tidal wave of the many,
later disrupted by a collective-consciousness
that democracy is, preceding jung's theory
of the collective-unconscious,
democracy is not carl jung... but it's its chiral
composite pair...
so friendship is the allowance of the self in reflex
akin to knee jerking or heart peeping into
rhythms escaping a finality / banality of
the measure of stone of standing still...
there is no friendship when the self disengages
from its reflexive naturalisation into social
circumstance (spelled yourself),
and engages in the reflective naturalisation
into anti-social circumstance of
body tiniest like among jupiter moon alaska
and all other shares of size (spelled your self)...
so then the inverse numerology:
C, one hundred... there is no T unless it be
the time concerned suffering on a crucifix...
but then there's the XI... eleven...
turn numerology on its head...
peer into something abstract associated
with the twinning of words, words twinned
to a bare minimum... so akin in misguided
uses as to appear so akin as to be readily
misused, upon the matter of twinned-pronunciation
without a necessary dichotomy that's already
there, for the optics dare not like,
but the tongue makes a porridge of the sound
then usurps the twinned sounds to opposing
spelling that the optics finds appealing.

Blow a dart through the eye of a needle
In a beetle's bull's eye's eye of the fetal
Position used to permission the perspiration of children
Flowing from the cycle wheels on their next revision-
Intermission-
The cat walks in the bathroom with the lights off,
Cat's cough, drops his neck soft loft, STOP
His paws from picking it and licking it off the top
Shelf of the urinary depository shelter shop-
Cat's pleasure walk-
The beetle's wife still cries to the beat
Beating butterfly kisses on the front left cheek
Tongue out, pierced through nose ring bling
Shine bright like the glossy wet stain, sting-
Half a toe dream-
"We call this recession", session dismissed for obsession
With questions about lessons learned by sections
In the left hand direction weeping willow pull our pension
From the pockets until the rocket red will start suspension!
Skin peeling regression!
Drizzle dribbling brizzles of bad mouth grizzle
Fat down throat smoke sizzle with frizzy hair frizzle!
Blood suckdown proud pretzel frazzle
Flowing mud slug suction cup dry slump saddle!
Have you watched your mind battle
The thoughts of many cattle
Pronged along like kids caught by tattle
Tale stories of dead bodies and hastles!
Watch them rattle-
Shattered glass got caught in the brains back
Spinal chord twisted in two ways tied around a racetrack
Task force grants permission for the Hazmat
Gas mask, tear burning sensation, blood, sweat and gun caps-
Gunshot whiplash-
Pulling out the hairy back hand wrist rip
Falling out grey death, black heart, sunk ship
Flipped over the backside walls to pavement
Too hard to bouncy ball back up to save it-
What a world we created-
Cracked skull thought shots, drink down the toxic
Hot spit, words flowing through split tongue box fit,
Cracked teeth lost kids, babies ******* down bottles lost in
Jungle jam, juicing through the ice box foxes sneak  in closets!
The world's spinning so fast, there's no way to stop it-
It's surprising how we don't see that we're all lost yet!

Young chicken turned into fricassee
How hot is your gravy?
Such sizzling goodness
Smells so fresh in the pan
Having a fry
Don't really know why
Cooking at such high temperatures
Makes me crazy this way
But I've got to have you frizzle
Cut tenders spitting grease about
Think I'll dice up a side of
Turnips, greens and roots
There's an unwritten law about it
Even so
Availability finds comfort in handiness
A little splash of wine on that
Ought to make it all
Come together

i now bear the burden of the phoenix,
but your heat is what sets me ablaze.

day by day,
i take the beating of your rays,
and sizzle and frizzle
in your stay.

when the time comes to turn to ash,
i find myself with charred hope.
for some reason i still swallow the same smoldered smoke.

my wings dance with the tongues of your ardent flare.
wither and thither boy,
who still whispers wisps of wild prayer

I told you
not to
call again,
but you
don't hear
so well,
our relationship
is over,
face it -
we could
never jell.
We could never
share the dreams,
that lovers often do;
we could never
hold the cup
and
drink the lovers brew.
Chalk it up
to fate,
to obstacles
too strong;
we were in a
tango,
where we,
did not
belong.
The fireworks were brief,
one big spark
and one big
frizzle;
it rained on
our parade,
in one long
constant
drizzle.
We could never
grasp the prize,
that lovers often do;
we always came up
empty,

and in a moment's
time,

we suddenly
were through.

this frizzle of excitement
daring--not daring--to hope
the flag feels the tug of the breeze
but can't unfurl
waiting.
to take in a breath, and not know
whether water or air awaits

earlier in the day i dropped into the local co-op for
two ciders and some cheap white ***...
jeez... like ******* on a star anise...
or eating a tablespoon of cinnamon with some
sichuan peppercorns: tong- 'umbing...
cheap ***** alcohol... no wonder it's a cringe fest...
sooner me: ******* a lemon - gratified than
this terrible escapade...
some five hours later i dropped in (again)
for two pints of milk...
first time round she was gearing up to her shift...
automating: hello, thank you, would you like
a receipt, would you like a bag...
have a nice day... paid by card...
oh i wasn't going to let her get away that
easily... for a cashier... god... what a lovely sight!
a sight before Picasso's **** with cubism...
hair done in an onion fold... or however
Shiva does his bun of hair...
such a lovely sight...
that running joke about how copper wire was
invented: two scots arguing over a penny...
the englishman has the least amount of money
in his wallet... since he'd sooner pay for a 90 pence
bottle of milk with a debit card than
cough up a piece of metal with ol' Lizzy's
effigy on it...
    i rummaged the house for a pound:
of value... not of weight...
        upon payment i placed the pound sort of:
"funny" into her hand...
some strange sort of magic: tensed muscles...
excessively protruding knuckles without
a fist... whatever it was... i managed to steal her
eyesight... she gave me a 10 pence change
and eyed me with those most feline sort of eyes...
darting with mascara and auxiliary enigmas...
blue... green eyed boy meets a blue eyed girl...
immediately that same pull...
like when my cat started to pronounce her hind
when being groomed...
those eyes are an anchor... i'm sinking...
what day is it tomorrow?
                   good on me for having a bicycle
and not a car...
no m.o.t., no road tax... no insurance...
  plus in London with the "green" congestion
charge creeping up to include the A406...
tube... bus... train... bicycle...
i'd sooner get to Hyde Park on my bicycle
than if i left the house and used public transport...
hell... i could have asked: fancy a quickie in
the Bower forest... midnight... the moon ought
to be ******...
all this from... placing a pound coin funny on
her hand... jeez... i must have touched some nerve
ending... woken up a nervy octopus...
her pupils started to squirt ink all over me
while i ended up walking home with two pints
of milk and an イレズミ that not only covered
my back but my entire face...

summa summarum...
me &... dating? when i can excavate so many words
from a meeting of eyes that entwines for
about a second and as briskly: feverishly
disappears: i wouldn't want a profile debauchery...
uncomfortable meh and & oh sows...

... eclipse mount gay Barbados ***...
a *** so refined it can be drank solo... straight...
better than mr. whiskers & ms. amber...
*** so good... it tickles the left side of my brrr
ain...
my nose and makes my moustache into a frizzle...
moustache: mouse... t'ache: take...
moose: t'ash...
on point with the katakana:
five free standing vowels
but only one consonant...

                 no ideograms... almost Hangul...
not as compact: terrible in terms of punctuation...
lower case upper case: non-existent...
oh and if you were to throw in
that who shebang when katakana is discarded
and hiragana is employed: interchangeably...

agreed... you ought to have an ideogram
for... say... red squirrel (somewhere):
risu aka... or aka risu...
                                       リス赤
a bit like... our, western, ******* by comparison:
emoticons... eh... a little bit less of everything...
but i will not have the same fascination
with ideograms like Ezra did...
however complex the skeleton...
what comes at the end of the complication
is still somewhat of a shared sound...
shove shoe into shackles...
call it: foot... if you'd like...

but ideograms and... say... traffic lights...
prompts... surds... almost...
see green: go! *******! go!
amber... gamble...
red... stop! stop!
why isn't green replaced with blue?
blue i.e. go water go!
perhaps because if it were blue...
in direct sunlight... it would not be all that much
visible?
i don't know i don't care
for once i don't want a scientific explanation...
science was fun... no... since chemistry and the thrill
of alchemy has... been exhausted...
toothpaste... shampoo... we're good to go...

back to the chemistry of the kitchen...
just wait while i drop a black cardamom grenade
into the the topic of cooking up
a biryani... "risotto"... you'll be gagging for
a sip of Laphroaig...

i need to visit the brothel...
hmm... i just read this one article in the printed press...
losers... losers everywhere...
as a fatalist: winning is hardly: winning...
losing is a de facto: delay button:
buttoned up tux... smart penguins one minute...
choking seagulls the next...
that i read the printed press: in paper...
well... with all the weekend magazines...
art critics... t.v. critics... restaurant critics...
fashion...
i like to read what solipsists read...

"incels are crackpots and not philosophers"...
james: not the Marriot 'otel...
i was going for a joke...
an incel, a jihadi... a don juan walk into a bar...
into a nunnery...
better still... an incel, a jihadi and...
jimmy savile walk into an orphanage...
at least one walks out an Abraham...
is that even a joke?
who's winning? status...
they're still going on about the fate of Afghanistan
like it matters to them: not being Afghans...
oh how the women will suffer!
Louis... calm Louise...
it's not like the rest of the... Ummah cared that
much about Afghanistan to begin with...
the fleabag riddled infested cave dwelling
cousins of... an idea that is now...
the absurdity of Dubai...
a bit like my romance with the Scots...

what about the jihad that ought to take place
to... free those Chinese Muslims
in the indoctrination camps?
no jihad for the Uyghurs i suspect...
evil west... blah blah... ******* blah...
i'm going to slobber on that f- and subsequent blah...
for m'ah UMMAH!

- i almost forgot how much fun it is to cycle from
outer London into... a tourists' paragraph...
gall: i was, oh i was... so so... amazed...
by the sights!
my favourite sights...
stern suited "alpha" males of Bank
through to the sugar babies of Oxford St...
if one oriental chick didn't take a fancy
at this "viking": flash her knickers:
Rolling Stones?! where?! where?!
i would be surprise...
through little Sri Lanka through
to an even bigger kaput: of Islamabad...
sorry... but coming to Marble Arch...
those drums... those red flags with Arabic script...
m'eh... some holiday... Dickens was cited...
i got off my bicycle and fell on the greener
than grass symptom of.. something...

lay there... caressing what somehow would
have been a beard... or the top of my head...
oops... gravity and this bulging sack load of:
running dry the project of society...
amphetamine charged:
running dry on dinosaur-juice!
drums & the whole celebration...
i almost picked up a raven feather
i almost pulled out my makeshift
hand-pistol and pulled the trigger at the audacious
drummers...

it's their own: you know... Hyde Park is...
living the livid part of...
all is the living the livid part of
Hazlitt wrote a book about it...
containing hatred: with proper categorisation
of where to deposit the required effort...
well... a momentum ******* like
no other! contempt breeds contempt...
if i am a "westerner" deemed contemptible
by these... sophisticated:
people... cave-dwelling folk... discovered
fire... by way of the Quran... no worries...
i'm just waiting for the invasion
of the Polacks... hell... i'll see what the Russians
are up to... ***** chess ***** chess...
literature... knee depth: alias: no need
to bother...
contempt breeds contempt...

otherwise London looks pricey...
i still like to be the tourist on a ******* bicycle
ever now & then...
CS2 *****... those cyclists are like
pedestrians... let me sing joy in clinging
to proper traffic... trucks... buses... HUVs HGVs...
whatever... that overpass over the Bow roundabout
just gleamed: it SCREAMED! i'm empty... ride me!
so i did...
ha... a man and his bicycle: too bad
it wasn't a horse...
to hell with the car... me: i peddle... i generate my own
momentum...
head full of cashews...
enough pressure and the proper sort of attire
of the tire... cwunch: rrrrr-everse...
a puddle of gangrene meddling in oats on
the pave-                           -ment...

quintessential 1990s song...
crowded house: take the weather with you...
or the Afghan cave network...
which might make the Mexicans shy up:
sober... ******* spastic fantastic:
straight line dig...
but not the flea-infested last cousins
of the Ummah... beginning with
Dubai... of course the Muzzies have
no problem with their brethren sitting on
dinosaur juice... wasting it...
cities in the desert!
castles in clouds!

daffodils on make-shift islands in the middle
of the Pacific: watch the Taiwanese blush...
best to look the part...
status: WINNER... whiner...
appearances are everything...
the devil didn't come with fire & sulphur...
he came with... smoke & mirrors...
gesticulating: like Lee Evans...
this... elbow... doesn't... "row" / "work"...

spaz fantasticsch...

people take photographs of themselves:
no one ever hardly has their picture taken...
onanism par with the monobrow of
that... quizzical "Quixote"... of the haxan
brush strokes... never mind...
spot the alpha male spot
the eye-blinders!
om om... mega mega: *****-****-show:
best perform... in latex and no ******:
snooze the *******... please... ha...
ah... hmm...

we through with the greek alphabet?
no beta orbiters?
good to know some people managed to...
sort life out...
they kept busy... out of every instance:
a persistence... hey presto!
post-existentialism!
no no... we're done with concerns...
we're going to do a magic carpet ride...
right now...
conventional use of language is alreaady
too busy with journalistic antics
keeping up with the rubric...
2 x 2 =

          bring me fire! it's time to learn from
Islam... well... if the Mongols are not willing
to plunder one more time...
for a surname in Pakistan being: Khan...
but... the genes... being diluted thus...
no sign of lemon ******* sputnik in the eyes...
well then...
inter-racial breeding...
it dilutes itself after about two generations...
it's a nice idea...
landlocked in mirrors...
guess the time: call it sea...

mind you... "you"?! i was boggled down in this...
times cryptic crossword no. 28,058...
i'm terrible with crosswords...
looks like the grandfather of
sudoku died... マキ (aerials... ki... key...)
       カ (k'ah... i can almost see the ア...
but Shinto emoticons help me... i can't see the...
K's at)...
               Yi: jaw dropping: jittering: alias
for a gloated in giggles Jinn... drunk sober
on gin...
that's Yi: Ye! not an upper-case Greek:
by the gammon load... pierces pearls...
and skin so... troublesome it ought to require...
dying the hair: PINKSCH...

maybe just maybe i'm terrible at crosswords
because i'm entrenched in bilingualism...
suppose i give you a clue...
then the whim...

      not British, Weimar dramatist is
genuine...
                      ECHT...
that's einz? the one time a german will utter
the letter Z like it's not a slavic C
via the cyrilic ц?
    *****... probably works miracles
where otherwise **** ought to do...
            
some script - girl mostly follows it...
   ITALIC...

conjuring ghosts seems to be a science:
by comparison...

ECHT EIGHT EXT... yes.. i have Eaten...
have i ate? yes... but am i late to
whatever is happening in ol' Liban?
no... i'm pretty sure to be on time...

i'll cycle through to central London
once more... come tomorrow...
i'll hijack Brick Lane...
by pebble by pebble
and make it near impossible to cycle
a road-bike on cobwebbed streets..
because of the 23cm wheels...

freezing point: if i had children...
such are the latitudes of joys...
the best thoughts come:
but i will not be deserving a funeral...
there will not be a procession...
i'll simply... tidy up...
i'll disappear...

for a while i imagined myself
the speed demon stabbing myself
in the neck... in the thighs...
anywhere available to make a relief
of the suckling oysters to the female
genitals...

oh cruel cruel nature...
why so unforgiving... ha... ah ha...
so realistic... so... intrinsically: charged...
fickle wording: pudding...
my half cleft hiding position
in the ***** of the hardest 'ock... roar...
akimbo one calls it...

Faroe Faroe...
       greyish skid... "jeg" blomstrer...
"den": vilje... henge...
hen-gh'eh...

              i love women... but it's a terrible
"idea" to **** a ******...
i prefer prostitutes...
not that i have lost anything...
or gained anything...
is it anything nothing more or less...
anxious western beta orbiters looking for
a hook-up...
i don't want to be a banker...
i don't want status...
i don't want the world...

            none of this envy churning crap will
work on me...
whatever the size of the harem...
between you & me...
David or Solomon?
David... for defeating Goliath...
and writing the Psalms...
of course Solomon is the king of Envy...
king Solomon:
la Rachefauc...

                   le rachelacaut

la rochefoucauld... Solomon...
wisdom or a man... arrayed with keeping
a harem... anyone could be wise...
if he had... entry to pillow-talk...
wet-a-*****... in a harem...
oh **** me... all the wisest hebrews
gesticulate...
by the signs of the cross...
rabbi i... please do not put my name down
on the future plundering:
this here: "reserved" whiskers... ahem...
whizz...                      -dom....

HAUSÉ....

honest­ly? the Cyrillic alphabet?
looks like cheap-****...
it's somewhat Greek... but...
but... it's a work-around...
i can work with it... what are my alternatives?
******* Glagolitic Croat?

When I see you
I feel comfy,
An arid desert is leafy
In a jiffy.

Everything is changing
For global warming,
Still my crush unabated
As artwork charming.

Touch me kiss me
Pour romantic drizzle,
Make me dancing fountain
So light frizzle.

O sky! It's you
My ultimate lover,
All my woes sobs
You can cover.