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Ann Jan 2013
that bring those lemon slices back to my tea
which never quite appealed to you.
Once in a fair while, as you sit whistling that tune,
hoping I'd be smirking,
I'd hum loudly. Out of key. And tastelessly.
So consumed in your troubles,
the beer bottles, wines, tabs that are hardly tipped,
the wink in your hypocrisy kissed my pride.
I flinch now. These days have made me flinch.
Gratifyingly so, your fingers are louder than
your lips.
I do not know the taste of your lips.
No one kisses on Tuesdays.
Maybe Wednesday, but we never see each other
then.
what am i with regards to language:
   another person -
             or some complex tool?
my grandfather is still bewildered
by invisible telecommunication
lines of connectivity -
and if philosophy begins with awe,
poetry - well hardly a bewildering
enterprise -
            back to language as a primitive
tool box -
         a shape ascribed to words -
rather than colours -
      take this one word:
   what shape would be ascribed
            to bewilderment?
           nouns are all straight lines?
and so unto bewildering-,
  are adjectives squares?
         there must be a grammatical
geometry of some sort -
otherwise how are we to compete
with the chinese encoding
complexity -
   if we are to return to such
openings of phonetic complexity
as Handel's messiah -
             while the chinese call themselves
Lee Chow - or Li Po?
              i'm buckling under the fact
that english speakers are literate in
that they are literate by some measure:
        odd...
         is language another person -
or as i like to think of it:
            a "primitive" toolbox of screws
nails, hammer and sickle...
better still: a scythe's shadowy peering
into the light...
            i think of death as with a hope
of immortality, armed with a hammer -
nailing each staff of wheat
               into place -
rather than: with a guillotine grin
marking each equal: before itself...
        i too wondered whether language
needs complicating -
     or whether at best: to simply grunt
and growl through...
       but that's beside the point when i
wonder that the brain: has no knowledge
of the tongue...
     how many times i've heard people
speak of: the eloquent thought,
coupled to a mumbling tongue...
   which is why: a cartesian dualism is hard
to fathom... summon Libra!
eternal Libra - nothing precipitates
to an equal fathom (unit of comprehensive
in situ) -
               there was and always will be
a dichotomy... hence the dualism advocates
invented the: schizoid mind...
   which is 2 x 2 = 4...
                     so is language not worth
complicating - after all, i have no other,
"greater" concern in using this: tool... person?
    can language really devolve
to scoop, or is it mere a shambles of
floating vegetables in a soup?
          drinking helps to numb the pain...
oh how friendly to return to
   a pseudo-incubation of sheltered
ego-foetus...
            ego... foetus...
               it must be an echo from the future
shouting: right back at me...
    for not having a memory of
being a tad bit tadpole: foetus -
  here - said god: i give unto you ego...
and thought - your 2nd womb...
         and for the love of god:
so few images have been ingested with
words, having to weigh the ******
obvious, smirk of science.
   of what i've seen of Warsaw i remember
not too dearly -
           the Warsaw Central Trainstation:
a barren place... a beautiful girl engrossed
in techno-attachments -
   the capital with so few people -
          a sight of a head with thinning hair -
if only: the apocalyptic
                  baldness of a Golgothan scalp...
then i could: smirk and retort -
last man standing is never the king...
perhaps a pawn, a bishop, queer or rook...
i laid my king into a pocket rather
than a coffin...
          last time i checked i was able to
numb mein schmerz with the antic of
sleeping for 14 hours...
            and can you believe it that:
graphemes are needed?
               the germans require S C H
to utter the same sound as the Poles do
with S Z and the English do with S H...
  some spaces ought to enforce
the Siamese dictum of Roman hellish
spawns...
                  because what is language at
best?at best it's not another person -
but a tool, however primitive language
not looks compared to <code> ext .2
practice...
                or that techno-puritanical posture
without a glum book...
                   either i am using a hammer
as i use my tongue to babble or lick -
    otherwise...
             a sickly simplicity?
  - and words do have grammatical geometry!
clearly, a verbum similis changes
shape: from the form
           bewilderment -
    through to (to) bewilder -
   into bewildering -
        otherwise named from an observation:
the genius monkey who said:
   (that) thing makes be more wild
   in temperament...
      and open: the universe -
   and closed the sight of stars in an
oxygen tank...
            for i am sure -
of a satanic possession that stirrs the mass -
as i am sure: god took a seat back -
what proof?
                  home bid yet homeless -
in the same station, a gradfather watched
his grandchild taunt a pigeon -
in her arm no breadcrumbs but only
a wish: perish: or perch here...
       i am blind to see past only
two existential arches: types -
  winged or horned -
    and beyond that: a zoo -
    something daunting to clarify with
an intelligent discussion...
      so is language another person -
or a tool?
                may i be understood
or must i necessarily be: standing ground -
never aloof - never fascinated
with an attic?
                am i to always lounge with
an antithesis of friction?
                 - and that's what sitting on
the throne of thrones does to you with
a dollop of Heidegger -
             yes, dropping a name -
but it would be hard to accomplish what
i am strumming without a mention of
what "mirror"-psyche i looked into,
before i looked into mine...
      it would be hard to digest myself
as being this complicated,
   on an a priori whim...
                  as if it was worth a base of:
uniform humanity -
    sooner finding an answer concerning
the existence of a mole looking
into one's own ****:
     and only one act is left with an
impossibility -
    the mole is as certain to exist
as a floating **** in the oasis -
   but my ***: might as well be
the regurgitating mouth...
         - and for all the beauty -
  it's crasness that shines for man -
                   to have to educate foul
speech is one thing -
              but to have to use it:
                 a lesson in liberty...
               besides - never mind "educators"
outside educational institutions -
     the muse: gratifyingly ends -
    but unlike a sense of accomplishment
a reader ascribes to having finished
   a historical novel...
     saying that - what is below a poem?
a novella -
      at least i can be honest -
the novella can only be dwarf of a Goliath:
the height of Goliath's armpit hair...
         BUT TO THINK I HEAR WHISPERS
IN MY DREAMS!
     who was the original iconoclast?
       "paradoxically": Medussa...
      enshrining them into stone -
        the word is odd - to make icons -
      ah... ****: tribe -
                caste - to caste is to make -
         again why the Americans don't know
that the suffix -cicki is actually slang for:
*******... i.e. **** - well, piquant zingy -
for the original ingests cycki...
         never mind nationalkapitalismus -
the nakies?
          because obviously it's not just:
nappies, is it?
        big baby was told it could poach
bacon instead of frying it?
                           evidently we can't complain -
unless of course we care to be
both nationalists and capitalists
  at the same time: as the English found
out the hard way...
                       but little Joey and big Sam
can be: national capitalists...
                   the rest just sign of
whether they're capitalists or nationalists -
since, outside of h'america:
   the two are never supposed to meet.
Let us kiss and end this brutal fighting, so as to resume hot *** sans disfiguring biting. The time has arrived to forgive & forget, the crime you committed barbecuing my pet. He was a good dog that was faithfully sweet, till you pickled his brains & boiled his feet. For you such things are normal in ol' Saigon, 'cause your **** neighbors eat dog till the whole dog is gone. No one knows and no one should care, how I romanced twin sisters born as a pair. One was happy, the other was happy too. We need a big pillow when big pillows are few. I believe that a man can **** with uncorrupted kindness, but not after urological surgery messed up his straight-line ****. Peeing is always very gratifyingly important, to Mexican wetbacks who can't be deported. So far as I know, 50 dollars still buys a penicillin-chomping ***. Let us pretend that my woman is equal, from her twin peaks to her permanent sink hole. There was an era when wives couldn't vote, nor navigate rivers via river barge or boat. My Mother's generosity has aided & helped, pregnant dog ******* too young to be whelped. A white guy who marries a squaw is a squaw man. A white guy who humps negresses lays down the law, man. Living on food stamps is thrilling, when it's Iowa farmers you love killing. Queer Jesse Jackson's current wife is a well-respected chick, who only pukes, upchucks, hurls & vomits when she's ailingly ill & sick. I love peanut butter spread on her quills thickly, as it makes the porcupine nettles on Sophia Loren's lard *** less prickly. Look at my bowel after it's resected: swollen & green & gangrenously infected. I'd rather die having ****** ******* with a thousand beauty queen Pinay nips than plant a soul kiss on your moody, mean, thin, gray lips. Never will you lie on your back for nothing, as long as you keep tidy your rosebud's muffin. I like you because you are so wild & free, like a ******* who'll perform for 15 to twenty. My beauty is proclaimed by millionaires with money, from Australia in weather gloomy & sunny. I love your hard *** & Niagara splash back, when I'm not under a red alert *** gas attack.
Travis Green Sep 2021
I knew I was safe
Within your world
No one had access
To enter your premises
I was free to undress
As I pleased
Free to be finessed
By your sexiness
Embrace your warmthness
The depthness
Of your masculineness
I couldnโ€™t care less
What you did to me
As long as you loved me
Gratifyingly
give me enough night to forget the day,
give me...
   the times i turned my feet into
a plough and the space in between
with time included: all this arable:
in-between...
step by step
st-
       -ep    by
                         s-
                                -tep...
give me that... my old drinking ******
and sunrise...
besides... it's only teasing April's fulfilment
and i'm abiding by too much roughage
in the stem...
for every time word, "word" was lost
to become this...
shortcut of centuries
whereby the priesthood of sort
governed the literacy rates...
when ******* was fun or there about(s)...

a cauldron of sounds within the confines
of familiar, yet all the more foreign lettering...
a cul de sac of....
caged crazed monkeys...
by now i'd be citing a reference marker
about...

330  & 309...
       nomenclators...
    le grand chiffre...
   Rossignols: nightinagale...
skeleton key...
  buzz-words hardly... so overbearingly
bothersome...
to have to come to the conclusion
once one has passed a certain age...

to love, out of fear...
to have to love out of...
to invest in children as to be certain one
can die as a patriarch in bed
and be sworn in
to the death valley by a vigil
and celebrated come the wake...
trivial tool-esque child-prone
ventures of bothersome thought...

it's never so gratifyingly plainly
detailed...
to die suddenly...
unexpectedly... like Caesar did...
well... thank you the patron saint
and the god of all who cycle into
a much congested urban environment...
that thrill of making
a pristine route from
a roundabout while
heavy traffic is involved and you're
all skeleton born, naked...
teasing at an exoskeleton of cars...
        
  (how can one write anything
with this bad of bad of an internet
connection...
back in 1998 when we had dial-up...
**** worked just fine...
less traffic...
now? impossible traffic...
a little bit o' this 'n' a whittle bite
o' that... congested via
custard constipation...
moi? a ******* cat daddy like it might
be a cross to burden myself with...

to the bed of the stoic!
of pseudo... or... quasi...
sacrifices, sacrifices before the altar
of: fame per se...
**** and you're famous...
a famous awe-stricken work of
carpentry...
no... that thespian nightmare
of shadow-stealing? perhaps...

wake me up at 6:30am prompt-ly...
and i'll gyt on me'er bicycle
and wriggle around... the peddle of a lifetime
to chase both switz cheese and
sunrise...
now drinking wine and
having done enough cauldron cooking
with some witches i've come to the conclusion...

that they diet... don't diet...
yet they still turkey the whole ****-up poor
sober... can't ****** a properly designated
omelette even if they wished...
throw some peanuts at them
and watch the 2nd generation
of elephant trunk sprouts eager
for a bottle of... heave: live'young...
evian... somehow...

while all the self-help guru types...
and their literary genre is no more than
some wild excuse for
Kaiser Wilhelm IV to bee resurrected
in this current year and be like...
d'ah fecken mein trenchen
frisk och... die oops-la-la...

         it's enough that i will summon
the russian alphabet i will not
need to bother greek...
or glagolitic...
or add any orthographical markers
to this naked Lay-a-tin...
n'est c'est pas?

       but i will 'ave myself a refill...
as i churn out... promises...
for every surd... letter...
there can also be an insertion of an apostrophe...
i didn't sacrifice...
my knowledge of language leaves
me without good or therefore any...
conversation...
i stutter when i speak to people
who focus on the trough and cubicle...
i don't talk because i don't have
anyone to talk to...
i have... a ******* audience of
voyeurs...

the most i make of this inter-connectivity
is to check bicycle routes on
maps and the meteorological office
for... wind gust speeds...
that it might come from the SW
while i'm heading from the NE
and it's obviously against me... at 12mph...
but the gust comes in short outbursts
of nearing 30mph...

plus... as the older women knew...
the new way of shopping...
i am glad to have never invited myself
in any comment section...
and i probably didn't allow any to be left...

a tongue spoke in the silence
of 'ought: phonetically it re(a)d...
      paะนx "vs." *****...
i want to test this...
FLURRY of a new found-land
of literacy among... common-folk...
misnomer: i'm sure...
all folk are common and all that's
common is... folk...

ribbit...
    is a paw-shy-to-the-jump...
sort-of... a... rabbit...
or... the sound a *****'s guest of toad
makes when it's not a sausage fest...
but a nymphomaniac ****
and there's a ****-sq. ******* apparent...
being all mysteriously...
humbert humbert / herr herr /
major major... alias with a phonetic symbol
(a letter in a foreign zunge involved)

unwillingly "we" dub them:
                  ัˆaัˆa...
willingly "we" skid around the corners
and forget to brew whiskey
after having excavated amber
from the Baltic sea...
                 ะงEX -
        "chech"...
            Cheney? Cockney...
Chchen?!
             no... just "Czech"...
           'urva yebana maั†ัŒ...

there are not enough hours in the night
to listen to bbc radio 3...
all the tax-payers' moneys should
be paid into radio 3 coffers...
to hell with everything being televised!
to hell with...
radio 4... drive in the morning
for radio 2 oldies...
to hell with radio 1:
which never played iron maiden's
bring your daughter...

radio 3... no advertisement interludes...
a pristine radio station one can almost
suspect them to be pirate...
since...

no one is going to meat-up to meet
guillotine... Mr. Cromwell are
we closer to "done" are we yet to
find out to belittle the creases in
the new black that's the old
navy - no purpose for purple...

sooner you'll find me cycling toe
tied - twinkle loot:
i am in a possession of a beard
that is a must
come... the aggrevating...
  the aggravating winds of traffic...
i'll walk into the north sea stark naked
just to the prove point of how mortal
and Pompeii i am without
being comfortable... to be: without...

each day is a... ******' itch to tease
death into a crescendo of expectations
that... goodness be! never truly...
comes... regurgitated spit of envy...
whittle ****-weeds of human remains
to be taken to fancy...

my Lyle & Tate & a full-moon sort of...
at the oval... when the moon is full
but it's "not" full...
in a democracy my vox is bread...
in a democracy my vox is circus..
my voice is democracy my voice
is unheard and for all the willing powers
that "be"...
little hitlers hey presto...
advent of A406...
my grudge against the almost livery
of having nothing but having to live
for plenty of times...

my time's an exit... a plan: no plan...
revive me revive a... bed i want to sleep
in... occupied by two sphinxes...
don't respects me...
don't fear me...
don't acknowledge me....
conversation has been over long
before you decide to quest for a resume...

"elsewhere" and that's where
it's... EVERYWHERE...
liberally: at least re(a)d...
teasing at Siberia
and nothing...
to do with... whey-stern...
culture-trap of a "comb-over"...

  a bottle of wine can almost...
for sure... cater for... scratching of Ypres...
this little do that other d'ah...
almost anywhere looks pretty...
esp. when cicycled to...
and the sun's shining...

imagine my conundrum:
from a phonetically pure enterprise...
this horrid by-mingling
of letters and surds and...
"aesthetics" contra concrete orthography...
too much metaphysical *******
can do anyone' 'ed in... no?
one forgets... *****...
turns to ovals...

        england wouldn't
be england... if it wasn't an island...
but... from Ilford through
to St. Paul's... little India...
the conquista has awwived...
mind you... there's a peacock!
the Xerxes of a pseudo-Iran
is... a-waiting...

closure of the 20th century of
the hebrews...
hello... scraps...
we'll fiddle, we'll mingle...
there's a cocktail... surf's up!
drink it... tamarind...
turmeric...
           the scent before the closure
of a bog stench...
my... clipped wings...

einยญundยญzwanzig...
        weil... nur tรผrken ottomane
schubs zu รคltere
   von englischzunge...
kommen... ohne einladung?
                  ist nicht...
              englisch vor...
                            mein: deutscheballaststoffe?!
Travis Green Nov 2023
He infatuates me straight away
With his artistic landscape
Of blazing amorosity
His earth-shaking eruption
Of stunningly seductive sultriness

I am so hung up on
His hunky yummy muscle
His robust cologne
The way he stands
And commands my existence

Propels me into his masculine realm
Where I enter his treasured entrance
Of enchanting dreams
To feel his rhythmic blast
Of gratifyingly mantastic splashiness

Surge through my inner universe
Feel his hands on my feet
Slide up my exquisite legs
And thunder thighs
Swirl his tongue around my navel

Nibble on my pinchable tips
****** my colossal chesticles
My hypnotic ****** lover
Be my macho, ardent officer
Arrest and incarcerate me

Devour my nakedness
Take in his untamed growls
Stare deeply into his entrancing
Caramel-brown eyes
He ***** so good
Like a **** in the hood

Grabs hold of my neck
Makes me sweat
Strokes my ***** pole
Makes me blow my load everywhere
While he steadily pounds me

Melds his flesh with mine
Caresses my firm hit-worthy derriere
Makes me feel his deepest
Mind-blowing emotions
In my heart and soul

Holds my hands
Thrusts hard in my guts
Again and again
Makes me give in to his rock-hard
Supercharged extraordinariness

Wrecks my homosexualness
Feel his lingering heat in my system
As he ascends to intense pleasure
And discharges his intoxicating concoction
All over my hot, jaunty cakes
Travis Green Oct 2021
As the flames emanated
Throughout the night
I extremely burned for you
Rubbing my hands
Over my smooth
And lusciously full *******
Becoming ripe for you
Waiting for you
To come over to my crib
And feel my body
With considerable chills
Let your poetic, loving hands
Run all over my flesh
Create a lyrical, top-class
Masterpiece out of me
As you love me gratifyingly
Travis Green Dec 2021
I love how your mouth moves, how your darkly affectionate eyes
Observe mine, an impeccable beard, a romantic adventure
To an outer dimension of dreams, wonderfully gaudy earrings
Pierced in your ears, so profoundly drawing, how you imbue me
With a symphony of ardent and undying passion, rousing aesthetic
Feelings you evoke in me when I fantasize about my hands
Caressing your flawless, fresh flesh, feeling powerful ****** chemistry between you and me, how I desire to be trapped in your mancave
Of the rarest, ******, and heart-stopping magic, lapse into your grasp
Become so enamored by your emblazoned and inventive masterpiece
Silken sweetness, a lustrous rainbow of dopeness, how your make
My world more exciting, pull me into the proximity
Of your man-nificent entrancement, so gratifyingly grand
And dazzling like the sunshine, the way you spin me around
In your unfathomable palace of endless extremities
Makes so lost in your prepossessingly flexing majesty
Travis Green May 2022
Here it goes all over again
Itโ€™s nothing new
I have been through it before
I am all in my feelings
Musing on you
Longing for you
To take me in your exquisitely magical arms

Solace me endlessly
Kiss me endearingly
Let me roll with you
Let me be your poetry in motion
Flow in your dopeness
Feel your deep sweet breath
On my sleek sunny neck

Tease me with your
Distinctive silky beard
Grip my throat
Compose your love notes
On the flawless surface
Suffuse me with euphoric sweetness
Spoil me right to the core
With your gorgeousness

Rock me back and forth
Like an adorable, dark-haired baby
In an incredible picturesque cradle
You are such an irresistible mystical lover boy
You know how to play with my emotions
You keep a hypnotic solid hold on me
You control me undefeatable flex

The way that you check me out
Sends me into a frenzy of delight
Lingering in your **** earthly masculinity
You rub your hands all over me
And I am struck with a fever
So sweet on heavenly smelling muscled charmer
Hunky summer machoness
Unmappable strapping rareness

Your superlatively sensational enchantment
Moves through my veins without hesitation
Itโ€™s the way your fabulous, powerful flesh
Fuses to me ever so gratifyingly
You wrap me in your deliciously dreamy splashiness
And I am forever addicted
To your seductive, compelling rhythm

— The End —