Here comes The Change
That has the range
Of emotions
And demotions
And devotions
Of a perilous populous
That likes to raise a fuss
When they eventually learn who I am
And treat me like I'm the Son of Sam

To be specific
They discover I'm gay
And begin to filet
My mentality
In totality
For fatality
Merely by acting differently

If my sexuality isn't the first thing people know about me
I get to witness The Change
Like a dog with mange
I am shedding my hair
While screaming no fair
Because of the shift I see
Because of the **** I need
To make my heart bleed

There is a steady bellowing burdensome baggage
From those that want to ****** some *******
So I search for weight lifters
But only find shapeshifters
That become great grifters
When The Change occurs
And The Change burns
So The Change turned
Me into an interdimensional changeling
And an unintentional rage king
After they use words like flaming
Because the results are so draining
It becomes hard not to hate people
Who are inspired by hate steeples

They say I'm going to Hell
While I notice the smell
Of being buried in their banal ****
While they play their greatest hits
That are as unoriginal
As they are cynical
They say I'm a degenerate
An embarrassment
A parent's lament

I want to change into a carefree bird
Instead I stay in Hell with the herd
Wanting to escape like Lupin the Third
Rather than be oppressed like the Kurds
But there is no relief
Only re-grief
When changes aren't permanent
But The Change is

There's an illustration of my life
That will change your perspective
The picture is in my words
When the painting is what I choose to say
And the canvas is your mind
Whose textures I could never imagine
So I jump off a cliff blindfolded
Expecting to be changed once I land

the ceiling i now wear my eyes up
plastic black garbage bags and the rainbows fuse
wood-stock, bare beams and studs fixed with lines from dried
desiccate nails poked through

on
Milwaukee Avenue the miscarriages of newer child abuse shows through
characters worth keeping close are quieter than I'd choose, the mean grifters are so loud it's trying too hard to be obtuse. Anyone can be an ***
but my assholedom is strained from confusion and too much use. Underneath the mountains inside a record box, I only want to live where you're a fixture and a friend. My fingertips are bent, I can sew, I can write, I can breathe inside your mouth if you'll allow me too.

COVID grifters are quite outspoken
In blasting vaccinations;
They pump voters full of rage
And then rake in donations.

The RNC° has also stooped
To lying about the shot
By telling prospective donors that it's
Part of a "liberal plot."

Why would members of the RNC
Want to be promoters
Of what could sicken, or even worse,
Possibly **** their voters?

The people at Fox News are thrilled:
Segments that they've produced
Regarding anti-COVID mandates
Give their ratings a boost!

People driven by money and ratings
In places where untruths lurk
Disseminate lies while at the same time
They know that vaccines work.

Social media platforms are also
Sites where we can find
The truth about vaccines being
Viciously maligned.

In short, unscrupulous folks all over
Choose to demonize
Efforts to stop the pandemic while they
Make money from their lies.

Before you share that Facebook post
That spreads misinformation,
Be sure the post you're sharing isn't
Complete fabrication.

-by Bob B (9-29-21)

°Republican National Committee

I grew up on heroes old and new
Thinking there was no wrong they could do
But get rid of rose glasses and they're the worst
And I woke up to a clergy that turned. out to be cursed
Now I can't trust people I see
On the internet or TV
Because half of my childhood celebrities
Turned out to be pedos, grifters, and Nazis

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Send them off with a ******* up
And hope next time you have better luck

Can't trust the storytellers that made your fantasies
They want you and queers like you deceased
Can't play pretend in a superheroes game
When all the directors fund your personal bane
I wouldn't trust the beliefs that raised me
Because I've grown old enough to peek and see
That its foundations are corrupted by empire
One more genocide and I'll set the **** pulpit on fire

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Push them away from who you see
And rethink all those memories

I once trusted some political heads
Thinking they had good interests in their stead
But red or blue they all bomb and starve and censor
Now I have to try to get my own beliefs and center
I blindly trusted the medical process
Until I saw prejudice and the reproducibility crisis
I blindly followed the worship of success and riches
Until I saw the dead that world left in the ditches

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Shoot them yourself if that's what you need
Because how else can you move on and succeed

History was taught to me in one way
Every account matching up to the day
But I looked back and saw a library
Of stories the classroom never did see
The people who raised me said they were saints
And that's the picture their friends all paint
But get home at night and you'll find out
What the kids don't know to talk about

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Never look back for a second glance
Don't give the ******* another chance

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Because if power corrupts and they're infested
Don't reminisce long enough to get invested

Some times you have to let your heroes die
Give a wave and a nod goodbye
Throw down your celebrities and your idols
Be your own hero and disregard titles

In These Days And Times...
It’s Getting HARD To Find...

People On Whom...
You Can TRULY RELY... !!!!!

Because of The Mood...
That’s Now Defining Life... !!!

COMPULSORY Orders...
To... PROTECT Borders... !!!

CONTROLS For Souls.....
Now LOSING HOPE... !!!

Due To LOSING Their Jobs...
And... RISING Costs... !!!!!

So What Have We Got... ???
A... CORONA ROT... !!!

That’s TRULY SHOCKED...
And CLEARLY ROCKED...

The Lives of... MANY...
That Are Now UNSTEADY... !!!

In THESE Days And Times...
It’s Now... HARD To Find...

... TRUE Peace of Mind...

Which Is Why I Write Rhymes...
To... STOP My Brain...
From... Going INSANE...
In These CRAZY DAYS... !!!!!

Because Its All A Haze...
And Now The Type of Maze...

That May Well Leave Some...
Finding Themselves STUCK...
With NO Place To RUN... !!!

It’s... FAR FROM FUN...
Watching Governments...
Now DESTROY Freedoms... !!!

Because It Now Seems...
That They Want REGIMES...
That ALLOW Their Teams...
To DICTATE What’s Seen...
And... WHO Can Speak... !!!

But In Truth Isn’t That...
How Its... ALWAYS BEEN... !!!

Within Their So Called... “ Societies “...
So Now Theories... About CONSPIRACIES...
Are Those That Feed What MANY BELIEVE...

But The Sheople’ OUTNUMBER...
Those Who Refuse To Play The Roles...
of... DUMB And DUMBER... !!!

When It Comes To The Vibes...
of These Days And Times...
Where Racism IGNITES...
Like... DYNAMITE... !!!

And Is Causing FIGHTS...
All Because of Black Lives...
That Apparently MATTER...
Once They Have... DIED... ?!?

So Now There Are Countries...
That Are... FAR And WIDE... !!!!!

Where The Race Discussion...
Is... Reaching Minds...
Who Preferred To Stay Blind...
To How Ignorance Functions...
And STILL Affects Lives...

WAY BEYOND Police Lines... !!!!!

It’s... ALWAYS BEEN...
What Black People Have Seen...

But Suddenly... APPARENTLY...
It Requires MORE TALK...
Than... EVER BEFORE... ?!?

But In ALL HONESTY...
It’s Beginning To BORE... !!!

ALL This TALK of CHANGE...
From... FAMOUS Names...

Who’ve Played The Game...
of... Waiting For A Train...
Or... BANDWAGONS...
For Them To JUMP ON... !!!

When They’ve Been...
... " Playing Along "...
To Get To... The TOP...

of These Industries...
Where Racism BREATHES...
Quite... EASILY...................... !!!

As LONG As THEY...
Were RECEIVING MONEY... !!!

There’s MUCH HYPOCRISY...
In Times Like These... !!!

So People Should Read...
... BETWEEN The Lines... !!!

BEFORE They Find Themselves ALIGNED...
With The Types of... Figures...
Who Are Really... SHAPE SHIFTERS... !!!!!

Or In Other Words... GRIFTERS...
Who Are Known To Be TRICKSTERS... !!!

And... Societal WINNERS...
Who Are The WORST Kind of SINNERS... !!!

Sitting At... DINNERS...
With The Type of Thinkers...
Who Prefer To Wear BLINKERS...

Than To SEE THE TRUTH...
About... RACIST Moves...

And The Type of ISSUES...
That Now... Confuse... ?!?

That Are Fuelling DARK MOODS... !!!
It’s A... " WHOLE NEW WORLD "...
That Now... UNFURLS... !?!

And Has REARRANGED...
How The Game of Life...
Will Now Be... Played... !!!

Which Is Why I Find...
Myself Inclined...
To Sit And Write Rhymes...

About What Life’s Now Like...

In....

“These Days And Times”....

Tea with the drifters
lifting lids on the kids there and
they're all on the skids there,
the dossers and tossers,the pikeys
and grifters,
all with the same name and
sidelined,
blindside of the game,
and with nothing
to choose between see or be seen
we don't see.

We don't see the lean one,the tall one,
the
skinny and the short one,the young or
the old one,
the one with the dream gone but
we all see the hands out,
all fear the question,
(could that be me?)
'spare any change guv for a hot cup of tea?'

On a Sunday for some when we pray and give thanks,
there are some that work hard in the local food banks.
It is to them we should pray and not to some God of the day
who disappears at will.
And I'm sure God will forgive me for saying this system is *****,
it ain't right,
someone's skimming the cream
someone's stealing the dream and
all we'll have left is
the night.

dagger beak
and garnet eyes
feathers stolen
from the stormy seas
scalded legs
and gawping mouth

tis
the gull come
to call
with mouth a
begging, shrieking gape
alerting  
the whole **** clan
to clamour and fight
for the measliest of bites

once proud fishing birds
are now just feathered,
scroungers, grifters, ****..

Red hued water swirls round the drain.
Bloodied hands wash themselves of sin.
Vacant eyes glance briefly in the mirror.
As the once temporary mask grows permanent.

The charade will continue.
The show must go on.
The bright and magicked aural lies persist.
For this is the reality of life.

Every human is an actor.
Every life has its stage.
And there is none willing to consider
Taking a peek behind another's curtain.

Too many acts to follow.
Too many roles to play.
We're all grifters and cheats
Trying to make a way in our worlds

And get everyone else to believe
We belong here as much as the next.

For the broken don't belong.
The wounded and bloodied don't belong.
The scarred and marred don't belong.
Not in a world that prizes symmetry
And wholeness and uniformity.

What is uniform about the bags
That darken our eyes?
What is whole about the scars
That shade our arms?
What is symmetrical about the sad smirks
That crook our cracked lips?

What is prized about our brokenness?

So we play our roles
And we play them well
So no one knows
Our brokenness.

But we do.
For our reality is in the mirror.

The now shattered mirror
Streaked with blood
To match the cuts
New to our fists.

Well It Seems That These Days...
That FAKES And SNAKES...
Are ALL OVER THE PLACE... !?!

From Those With Names...
Now Claiming... FAME...

To Those Who Partake...
In The Political Frame...

Where What They DISPLAY...
Are Political Games...
That Are A DISGRACE...
And Have NO SHAME... !!!

In... Displaying Ways...
That Are INHUMANE... !!!

FAKING And TAKING...
In Ways That Be SHAKING...
People Til’ They’re QUAKING...

In MORE Than Their Boots... !!!

Now CORONA Has PUSHED...
Folks Into Their Rooms... !!!
ISOLATED And Confused...
By This Corona Flu... !!!

And Of Course The FAKE News...
That’s Now Claimed To Be TRUE... ?!?

I Need To CHECK That Line...
Cos’ That Doesn’t Seem Right...

Cos If The News Is FAKE... ?
It’s CLEARLY Run By SNAKES...
And The Types Who LIE...
EVERY DAY of Their Life... !!!

One Has To Wonder WHY... ?!?

Well These CORPORATE Guys...
Women AND Their Wives...
Are Now CLEARLY Displaying...
A Wish To Be MAKING...
Instead of Now Paying...
Money To Their PATRONS...
Or Those At Work Stations...

Because MOST Are Now VACANT... !!!
ESPECIALLY Those In Tourist Destinations...
That Have Now Been SHAKEN... !!!

Just Like A... Bond Bar Scene...
On RECURRING Rotation... !!!

Where He’s Dealing With SNAKES...
of The... HUMAN Shape...
Whilst HE’s Being FAKE... !?!

I Mean For HEAVENS SAKE... !?!

I Guess The *** STIRS...
When These Fakes CONFER... ?
To Leave The Masses HURT...
Because of Lies They Work...
To Feed Chicken Like ****... !!!

With The Type of Spice...
That Now HOTS Up Lives... !!!!!

Like The REALITY Rhymes...
I Now... Sit And Write...
That Define What’s TRUE...
NOT... Falsified Views... !!!!!

Now Filling Newsrooms...
And Of Course Bedrooms...
Where These Alphabet Crews...
Have DOCTORED The Truth...
For Their Partners... WHO...

CLEARLY Had NO CLUE...
Who They Were Making Love To... ?!?

Because These Shape Shifters...
Deceived Them Like GRIFTERS...

Or Snakes That SLITHER...
And Leave The Truth LITTERED... !!!

With POISONOUS VENOM... !!!
WITHOUT Yoko Or Lennon...
To Imagine Or See...
Through Their FALLACIES... !!!

It’s Now A TRAGEDY...
... Full of CALAMITIES... !!!

WITHOUT Doris Day... !!!
Cos’ Now... Humanity...
Has FAR TOO MANY...
Who Behave In Ways...

That SHAME And DISPLACE...
TRULY Being... HUMANE...

It REALLY Is A SHAME... !!!
To See People Behave...
Like They’ve Got NO BRAIN...
In This Modern Age...

of The... NEW AGE SLAVE... !!!
Which Is Why I Now RELATE...
This Last FACTUAL CLAIM... !!!

That You Should STAY AWAY...
From Most People These Days...

Because Nowadays...
It’s CLEARLY Fair To Say...

That Most Now Choose To Behave...
And Sway Like Those Named...

As.......

... “ FAKES And SNAKES “... !!!

hiding behind images:
rather than standing before shadows...

perhaps it sounds better
in german, in german:
it (being german) is more...
informative...

or at least... that's how i see words
as...

example... DOG...
will i hide behind an image...
or will i... stand before the shadow?

as bad insurgent "translations" go...
this is where you find the "lost"
artefacts...
why would a ****** snuggle
up with some deutsche-spreschen
bollocking: to begin with?

we have settled our difference...
we have to have them...
wir haben zu haben: ihnen!

Plato... and iconoclasm...
christmas is over and i can,
finally! celebrate!
we do like in a democratic pseudo
state of affairs...
no man shall reign for more than
100 years...
even if he is god-bound....
but this little *******...
******* pivot,
it all begins with him and ends:
with him...

before all the greek demigods...
i will seek: being naive...
i will seek... keeping my mouth shut...
i will make minor details:
enlarged protest projects!
perhaps the german will
clarify...

verstecken (the past tense...
i never found it...
the paste of hiding...
to be couple with a present participle
of still... hiding)

verstecken hinter bilder...
lieber als stehen vor schatten!

die architektur aus wörter
(von Goethe... "von wörter"...
'goeRte')

nichts nein!

what is a melancholic arson?
the inflamed heart: its last willing rubric
genesis...
the mind is either automated cold
or stitching up cobweb matrixes of borrowed
time... but the heart...
oh a heart can become something more
than the bundle of clockword muscle...

i have tried to keep this mind
candle-lit and "curious"...
to keep it: intellectually focused...
to be prone of being starved: retaining
being a curious case of:
but i've found extinguishing points
of reference...
the only stupidity i found was...
it was going to be: oh so... predictable...

the modern tongue...
libra! meet the hydra...
i can either hide behind images...
and fuse them with words...
or i can... stand before these shadows...
these skeletons...
and properly disguise an "alternative
arithmetic"...

there's no point arguing over what is,
and what isn't "central europe"...
the masses have spoken...
we know what's fly-over territory when
it comes to h'america...
there's the east coast and the west...

but i will keep borrowing german
to... to the best of my abilities...
pretend to leisure myself in the comment
section, of the serious, sober,
liberal elites!
the true mind grifters and...
perhaps the odd chance of
a dutch puritanical rabbi...
to... "manage" an equilibrium...
to... not... rattle the boat...

common theme: i drink, i want to speak german,
i'm dead: i want to speak german...
i want to tell jokes in german...
-esque buzz lightyear in toy story 3 with
his... hispanic psychosis interlude...

i've experienced psychosis...
most... unsatisfying... i never managed
a complete disintegration of the self...
shame... i almost wish i did something...
that would have kept me in
Broadmoor for the past... 12 years...

i'm still "here"... but it's already apparent...
to have invested in german existentialism...
to have invested in... german idealism...
somewhat... and "then" / only now...
do you realise... you're not going to be part
of some ******* bookclub!

oх dye scheiße!
чoпперс chomp!
их... alternatively in eat... east germany...
isch... so?
ишь... alt. being? ихь...
variations go... where the caron... doesn't...

i will not solve you a crossword
puzzle in english...
i still have not opened a bottle
of jack daniels this very night...
and i'm already making a summary
as to: why i will not open
a bottle of jack daniels tonight...

i will... but i'll sniff the bottle-neck
as if it were a line of *******...
and the sober, sensible people,
can have their fill...
they can have their: formal...
promenade poetic excursions into the night...
and they can rhyme rhyme rhyme!
they can walk their ritual crescendo
of left right, left right...
which will never make them odd...
should Beijing stage an army parade
"impromptu"!

have them! have them all!
too bad for me... to bad for you:
to be of those people...
who read books...
that... makes it hard...
to find someone... who also read them...
and when you have...
done both...
you find out... oh, right...
those books were never supposed
to be talked about...
they were supposed to become
cognitive tattoos...
you were always supposed to...
"think" about them...
in "think" as in: not talk about them...

you would never be able to
mainstream them...
regurgitate them... fall flat on your ***...
donkey comparison...

Balaam's donkey...
Jesus' donkey...
i'll repeat this...
Balaam's donkey... Jesus' donkey...
and those four horsemen...
minus one donkey-jockey...
Balaam's donkey... Jesus' donkey...
if only someone told either of them...
about...

one of the donkeys knew...
as my cat knew when... clear as day...
i remember him utter the word:

яабэł...

he had two names: oscar darshan...
i'm way past being crazy...
being crazy these days is:
being known for making yourself
be accustomed to rules and laws...
outside of the rules and laws
that make stealing a criminal act...

otherwise: christmas is over...
now i get to celebrate the every day...
i'm done with this:
worshipping a baby...
on a day... when... Herod did a
Pharaoinic imitation...
major, or minor improvements?
beside the point...
only he exists... the rest of us...
perhaps some... porridge... will suffice?

oh thank god the c.c.t.v. cameras weren't there...
and the sceptical community...
i wouldn't mind some cynics...
but so the story goes...

because why would i want to...
"persuade" anyone toward, anything?
less of me, less of me on instagram...
ensuring i post the perfect
hot-dog sublime piece of legs
before the altar of a swimming pool...
or whatever chlorine cocktail...
with a "missing link" sombrero for
a stump of wood...
excavated from a sacred forest of Lithuania...
or some other variant bollocking...

christmas is over...
i can forget about being secular and sensible
over these past three days...
so i can return to my cognitive religioisity
in the outcast domain of mingling
gnosticism with qabbalah...
and... i can due those said prayers
in silence with my thought...
the ought-i-ought-i-not:
in that sigma-***-theta morph prefix
exemplification... of translation...

dry-humorless: pedantic...
that's me...
because i can finally! finally! breathe!
i can enjoy winter without these
******* fancy-lights!
i can enjoy x-ray vision of skeleton trees...
balding fully...
i can enjoy winter... after all...
winter can only be settled into an armchair
of comfort... when christmas resigns from
being a calendar event...

i can enjoy winter now...
ich dürfen zu genießen winter, jetzt!
ich, auch, dürfen zu genießen:
bekommen betrunken,
bekommen betrunken genug:
zu necken deutsche-tippfehler-quack-sprechen...
etc.

christmas is only christmas come
the 27th of december...
now i can celebrate...
now i can ******* peacock strut me way
(my my my)... into
the never available "oblivion"...
as you do... you really need procreation...
you need children to appreciate christmas...
otherwise you're ******* stuck...
with a delay button...
waiting for Easter...
the big boy celebration of christianity...

christmas and... the siege of Gaza...
what's the common thread?
human shields... children being:
human shields... excuses excuses ad nauseam...
it's because of the children that we justify
christmas...
i have none so... i don't justify it...
i'll usher in some herr bernstein
in the form of monsieur gauner...
or some... all brothels have a stench of
bourbon about them...
alle bordelle gestank von bourbon!
alle!

and what "good" isn't coincidental
with the advent of spring?
ah... the resurrection "part"...
flight to egypt... josephus ben mathias...
1945... the nag hammadi library...
and... plenty of greco-hebrew politico
propaganda hybrids along the way...

i can hide behind an image
that a word designates...
but... i can also... stand before...
the shadow that the word impregnates...
it just so happens to... rhyme;
bluntly.

The waitress smiles
a little too much
but we don't care,
our little glass lung

of Bordeaux dips away
above slatish cobbles.
A Gauloises whips ash
from a smouldering hand

into the corner table fragment.
Systems of traffic evaporate.
A massive shadow folds
above the grifters.

The river laps
at knees of bread,
while empty bottles
browse the blackness

for their corks.
Beside cathedrals
a dusted dusk glows
& we follow it

back to the hotel.
It's a little room,
our neighbors make love,
& the courtyard roars

with high orange;
I think towards you
when sheets of clouds
betray a skimmed moon,

& we pull sleep around us.
The river tongue falls
& sleek stones gather
to a new language.

freed from time and space
we gave our last performance
you said it was sort of pompous
and a little too hollow
unlike the figure of the maid
who came back and left me my dinner
grief is a river i would never swim in
we undressed the girl wearing hemp
because you said grifters do it the best
and if heads are gonna roll tomorrow
so must our feet move on too
love is abundant and frequently dismayed
the moment you allow
another to enter your heart

Who?!
Who had'ed ever known
That the swan had bought a novelty comb.
A hair spreader she sent to god.

Who would have know that light will only
shine on bright grifters.

Sipping on caramel and strawberry soda.

Who would let they're bright little Yoda be real?
To feel force that cannot conceal?
To drill in to quarries that lets all
the stories of strayies who are real
and can feel just how I do.

I'm blue you might tell
But Hopefully
can feel you
can fell you
and see you
to be
and to hear you
about who you are
and how  I'm not at all
and how I can fall
and how you are
and I'm not
and who can't I can be
and just who you will see
if you love you
If you love you
yourself.

Rude-awakened, bare, I plunged
the mine for errors—yelled revisions
up the shaft, felt echoes drift.
Stifled gold-myths for anchors: pig-iron
chained to answers. Asked "which way?"
and felt novel paths fade to gray,
gut-checked at gates Now Boarding,
urgency-alive, departure day.  

For-Shame walks hard his two-block beat:
the love against his feet, the bleach
behind his eyes. The toll is lucid blood:
much thinner, quick-twitch coded,
primed to run. Canaries, fathoms down,
sing longing to the mask
that votes for trade—sweeps laurel off
the heads of state, befouls the learners'
****-grounds. What truth might Satan

still confound? Denounced and parceled,
grifters spend our last resort
up paper-trails that track too short—
force every sense through that
accursed mask.
To breathe, perchance, to ask.

am i being an *******, am i, maybe?!
                     before the real polemics begins...
i have to deal with these little
shitlords in the comments...
                    plague: the sefiroth lifted to the heavens,
castrated and told to sing: give me
my idle hands for the devil to do much more
than this...

based upon a reflex:
   concerning

thank "god" / "luck" my alter-ego
Conrad von Heiligkreuz is not getting a welcome
reception elsewhere...

my-poetic-side...
            only a 2nd poem in and i'm "told"
to shut up...
         happy to conclude a revived jazz binge...

i once had a friendship...
which lasted to the point of hearing:
it's word salad... sorry, what?
i do know the lexicon of psychiatry...
perhaps your sister is a genetic oddity...
but i'm hardly the "spezial needs"
culprit... the royal family are paid for by
taxpayers' money...
they are grifters of pomp and circumstance...

not that i'm waiting for ol' lizzie to die...
but if i had suicidal tendencies...
i'd wait this one out...
a pope dies... a knee bother...
but the queen of england?
the lineage running from edward
the confessor?! ****! i'll have to be around
for that one... when ol' charlie
gets his face into print
on that new spastic fantastic grit of
plastic... paupers' paper...
hardly a square mile of a proper... wipe...
one's ****...

         i'm waiting for lizzie to drop
at the gallows...
i had to call her: purple comic sans girls...

rereading... on the offensive...
i am an *******...

purple comic sans girl:
do you feel better having got that lot off your mind. So therapeutic this posting on MPS business isn't it? I imagine you found yourself bored out of your mind before writing that tirade and i hope its been of benefit for you.

Conrad von Heiligkreuz:
blah blah blah blah blah... and some words in between... then again more blah blah blah... wait... is this one of those "safe spaces" i've heard of? you're not going to leave me with a benefit of the doubt, are you? well then... run along... run along... stick to rhymes and rumi, or whatever crap you're into.

he also posted a comment on one of purple comic sans girl's poems:
yep... thanks purple COMIC SANS girl... your comment was more engaging than this poem... sowwy... now get your sycophantic hyenas to focus on me and get me banned... too bad you can't see any constructive criticism... i was going to ask: iz u zee torbewahrerin - some twitter-esque blue checkmark cerberus for this website?! will you be the one to go that one step further and tell me: no lightbulbs for you: no internet access... wipe your *** with your hand and write by candlelight? thanks for the emotions though... i was right in being slow today... low blood pressure... thanks for the emotions... now i can knit them into a bundle, a stone... and throw it into a sea of rhythm. again: i'll just ask your sycophantic hyenas to come knocking... god forbid this site is to be one of those urban myths of "safe spaces": thinking hurts: aaagh! i quiet like the blog section of this site, though... it would be a great shame not to catch up on poetic news... yup.... "friends" / fwends... walking on egg-shells... looks like an echo-chamber to me... this sort of "love" / ******* you see for miles and miles... doesn't anyone these days tire of news as propaganda... and such only ++++ comments? i'm thinking of washing my hands like some o.c.d. golem... and brushing my teeth... see you later purple comic sans girl; thanks for the adrenaline shot.

definitely the pronouns...
that's it... this is not definitely the *******?
first impressions... the churn of emotions...
well there was... nothing exactly... "offensive"...
but i'm that beyond redemption e.g. of
no e.g. to begin with:

         alter-ego alternatively: who's who in third
person - there's always someone missing...
my alter-ego has to write an apology
for her... the aura of hostility is being multiplied...
forever dealing with a genesis story...
to have seen a mountain and the sea...
but this crown... this new-found-tooth:
yet to be a jaw...

i'll make an apology... i'll post her this link...
do i feel better:
what's there to feel better about?
even if i think i'm hardly the optimist desired
to only mind weather forecast prophecies...
over a pint-hour-long-conversation...

this is a reflection... but the reflex is already
a faux pas:
bull sees red... some porcelain gets
shattered on the hoof and snort of wet air...
there's a heart: but there's no glory of it
to be made into splinters of breadcrumbs
when extracted from a tabernackle...

      miasma... miasma...
          and metaphors of miasma...
                    otherwise: this congested traffic air
of plugged horn sections of an orchestra...
                the past or the part where i say:
someone was misunderstood...
someone clearly jumped to conclusions
too early...

       i was going to do something human today...
instead i opted for toying
with a robot that made pizza...
and over-seasoned the pizza sauce with
too much oregano...
           faulty "a.i."... back on the new found
glory wheel of replicas...

cheers! here's a hope to...
when two reflexes meet... spawning two reflections...

the only tragedy of what comes from
borrowed time - or the past -
however irrational the previous "few" were...
they still allowed us to carry through:
the W of a wHEN...
              they allowed us to carry a
H of hOW... and...
                                 there is not rhyme to bargain with...
the cess-pool of feverish breathing...
the insult of exaggeration from the propaganda
news... it's not even fake, as such...
it's just... cold cod and ambers...

                        if they were to be dying with
mushroom-esque sprouts of out-growth from
their foreheads... i'd be deemed the most interested
undertaker...
an apology is necessary... but i only spotted it
having written this "repudiation"...

perhaps that's what her comment was all about...
the hope for a beating heart...
this prospect of feeling...
i can't remember the last time...
anything of thought was worth
a cradle of genius...
or that anything felt was more than
a reflex... hell wouldn't want me to reflect on
certain matters...
hence the faux pas immediacy...

                    i was able to read: but at the same
time i was blinded by a rage that...
allowed me to feed a larynx replaced with
an impossibility of a heart...
and with the heart replaced with a larynx...
⠊       ⠎ ⠏ ⠕ ⠅⠑
                                        ⠃⠇⠊ ⠝ ⠙
no colons or dot dot dot included...
here's to me singing a karaoke in england
with the song: madonna's oh father...

           blind fool blind bid to pray...
if only... those forwarded gesticulations
of phatom were to be a gratification of relief
i were to be seeking...
handshakes with shadows and the dead...
eclipses of multiple suns
and a suitcase of words that cannot cross
borders beside the familiar pain of some later
posthumous translations...

what modern scientific discovery?
the ancients gave me the sound and its subsequent
meaning in how i connect it to
another sound and a subsequent meaning
and craft this umbilical chord...
this tapeworm this foetus of myself of
a future bound to a past...
wrinkles on a page...
a spilled picasso of coffee in some
variant of Rorschach...

                               most of the time i don't want
to be forgiven... to be forgiven is to be immediately
asking for an apology: a futile enterprise...
i'd just like to be understood...
take all the time in the world:
for that to happen... or 'appen...
we're dealing with surds that still retain
a status of a spell-check: you know...

                         there's that impossible moral
of this: anti-story...
         the comments section of an internet...
let me show you the sqm
of what it takes to resolve: a boot... leather belt...
strap... of extending enough of the shaved
hind of the snorkel of a pig in the shambo
of a blood-bath of a slaughterhouse...

                             all the best parts were and will
continue to be used...
               she called it a tirade:
i'm more prone to the self-laceration
of calling it a diatribe...
                         is this what promulgating
self-depreceating humor does to one's coordination
of: "it's at"?
                             this new breed of: there...
               and being...
            perhaps a focus on: that? clingy little shitstorm
of tomorrow's never new...

well...                      that's me...
asking to be forgiven is so futile...
       this clingy originariness of sin... more like:
replica - and... was that the originality of
individuation - the sin being...
the replica... the plagiarism...
                               that "unique perspective"...
the eventual monotheistic intra-personal "god?    
and later the democratic fizzling-out...
the diluted "god" of the... yawn...
inter-personal?
                
          the better half of me has already died
having written this...
the pivot of either half of me that was
ever going to be differentiated as good, or "evil"...
the challange of probing the mediocre...
i would always keep to retaining some
standards of cohesion...
grammar, spelling, arithmetic...

                   the skeleton requesting
a pickled jar of brains...
and some tendons and muscles to coordinate
itself as an early grave-risen:
                           shadow of a mollusk...
circus of words... the meadows of Edinburgh...
the ego as a minotaur...
thought as a labyrinth...

                             and the leftover...
the shop of porcelain...
           and the revised minotaur...
as a sphinx.

i've moved through several "mentors" in my life, i obviously started with someone like Milton, seriously, on poetic matters, i didn't start with Shakespeare for the sonnets, i found then too... too claustrophobic, rhyme in general is claustrophobic for me, it's such a lesser expression, i much prefer playing squash, squash over tennis, every single single, playing it... id est, obviously watching a tennis match is rather enjoyable, a bit like watching a magnolia tree bloom in spring, or any spring blossom when taking a walk at night: it's great watching it... but the practicality of playing tennis "goes missing" when you turn from spectator to player... let's face it... there's a football team's numbers' worth of aids... let me count.... dot dot dot: 6 ball girls / boys... an umpire... 6 vertical line judges... 4 horizontal line judges... what's that? **** me... more than a football team of assists... more like a rugby team... i started with this mentor... that soon passed... Bukowski... Will Alexander... i did a whole year of Ezra Pound and opera... why bemoan the trans-Atlantic slave trade?! any jazz... coming out of Africa... can you envision a world whereby music was explored as it was explored... by African-Americans (****** conjunctions, just the "retards", plough-labourers sold by their own tribesmen to instill a fervor for up-keeping their high status polygamy... mind you... no white girl can compete with this sort of Calypso... a Harley Dean... nope... not ever... car-nage)... can you? any new jazz coming out from Nigeria, or just the same, similar, ethnic *******? that's being overlooked... jazz was never ever to be born in Africa's *****... the antithesis of classical music... it required Africans to be forcibly moved to the "newly discovered" continent of America for jazz to be given birth... painful: like most original births are... but... we had the reconstruction of classical music through jazz which opened / paved he way for all the "other" / subsequent music genres... if i had any black fwends i'd tell them: **** it up... you don't realise what you gave us... compensation? for slavery?! oh sure sure... the Jews got their compensation payments for the Holocaust... and what did the Polacks get?! as, ahem... compensation? communism! we, "we": received diddly-squat! ******* and your "compensations": "reparations": ******* with your Marcus Garvey or otherwise: shut the **** up... this new born Christianity of the African continent is somehow sickening... no! i will not shut up... it is what it is! pranking supremos... grifters! spindlers! can you imagine? people have so little interest in music that they have to resort to talk-radio... they need to be talked to... and then they return: en masse... as a public decry of government policies being shuffled in shadow... beautiful world... a world so beautiful that it only requires one to **** a ******* to level the playing field... i keep myself intact: i focus on what's to be loved: first... id est: children and animals... that's it... it's not a sinking Titanic motto of women and children first... no... nothing's sinking: children and animals first... women... 4th... what's 3rd? male on male camaraderie... drunken men at public events tell me all the things women tend to "forget" to tell me: i do... although some... i have three tiers of women... the wedded ones, clearly bored... still doing: whatever... Lolitas and... prostitutes... obviously i champion the last of the three because the rest are too timid and by too timid i'm looking elsewhere... charm a totem... a fox... let a fox feast on your leftover food from dinner for a month: not a dog... but... maybe... either he was run-over or he figured out a "thought" of: well... isn't this weird... running drunk with deer... a harem of deer... that created a traffic conundrum... can i just be blunt? women aren't mysterious... they're just a ******* drag... drag... boo-ring... i watch married men pandering to their wives' demands and i'm thinking: not all fools are horses... some are just ******* donkeys... me? i tried... i failed... i tried i tried... i failed i failed... that's the beauty of rejection... there must be a chemical formula akin to adrenaline whereby you stomach rejection all the more easier... it's sort of on a whim... a: eh?... whatever... you start gluing your eyes on that Zeno paradox race between a turtle and a hare... or... reimagining... what if horses had to compete with camels... or... what if.... man tamed the bull and not the horse for battle?! hmm... the world is truly my oyster... but no... i don't do rhyme i don't do haikus... i think i'd find writing a haiku very: unsatisfactory... perhaps it's a relief to read... but writing one? no conversational overtones?! none of the blah-blah effect?! what?!

i never write from a source of "inspiration": forever the mu dane "rezoning" of me (N - ease honing: of reasoning)
i never write from a source of "inspiration",
reading the Latin classics taught me this one
"thing".... to never reiterate a square
of -ing                            -ed




    -ed                              -ing

first come the children, second the animals,
3rd the camaraderie, 4th, the women,
to un-stiffen: myself....
hell... if Walt Whitman could get away
celebrating himself... i guess i can too...
let's dance... facing the music...
to hell with tired old men writing poetry
once upon retired, salvaged.... "happy":
SAFE: yes... now is the ripe time...
the time to craft banknote meanings...
  whisper to the ******* wind!
i need myself in my youth:
in an element of brute!
      free! freed from ever having
ever stolen or murdered or otherwise...

children, animals, camaraderie, women....
a bit like women....
  Lolitas, wedded women...
prostitutes... the rest?! pass...
  seriously, pass... i rather be chasing deer
drunk in the night...
timid is not not mystifying...
timid is just boring...

  but in terms of language...
                the ancients knew a thing or two...
sure... they lived in a world governed by
geocentricism... but...
they could figure our minute patters in
physiognomy without making
a ******* science out of it!
of making an -ology: authorities on:
the reminder of the recluse super-intendant:
*******! seriously...
****-off...

if you were to give Atlas the weight of earth
by...
tectonic... shrapnel...
rather than the whole globular...

dead-weight... stones...
imagine carrying a dead-weight...
compared to... alive-weight...

same distinction between mass
and weight...
gravity... is dead? is dead? gravity prone?
***... imagine filling up a skip...
of stones...
then imagine...
  ******* a *******...

i have bruises on my arms
as if i were over-shooting too much ******...
goddess...
i peered at my shadow trying to
to unpeel it into nothing...
watching it... merge
with the shadow of trees: disappear...

i'm not a god... to hell with the Olympians:
i'm a TITAN!
i can see the pulsating blood in my protruding
veins as i liberate Sisyphus from
his slumbers... as i irritate:
wait a minute...
if the ancient Greeks deplored the Titans...
and invited the gods...
what did Christianity do...
if not make angels into saints?!

  i hate Christianity...
              it's a hatred with a passion that
leaves me... unable to find a girlfriend...
"unable"...
to hell with it... i can cook, i can clean,
i know how to iron shirts...
i do most of the d.i.y.
  and by then... the ones that are available are?
single mums... ****** is ******...
i'm not getting any replicas...
    so... so... as far as ancient customs go...
i'm not a Tiberius Caesar...
  ha ha... no no...
        fostering ******* is not on the menu...
although...
fostering... what's the equivalent of
a daughter born out of wedlock?

    me? i have a healthy mind... a keen mind...
that's what happens when you read Stendhal
and Marquis de Sade in your teens
and leave Ovid till your 30s?
******... "******"...
            i'm not investing in anything beside
an idea... a succulent thought...
something that's beyond a mere squeeze...

dość! enough!
      but no ść in Russian...
akin to šč
    i.e. szczypiorek - green onions...
chives even...
ever smell chives in bloom?!
bothersome addition of a "comma"
to the already defeated epsilon
  щ...
            or... strict woe woe Woe...

the most beautiful letter i ever came across?
Plato... Theaetetus... SO...
not in katakana... not in Hanguel...
in the near extinct Glagolitic Slavic scriptum:

M: Ⰿ
too many ******* vowels!
that's my reply?
the Germanic "question" regarding Slavic
languages employing "too many consonants!":
you people have been ****-hurt over
an Afghanistan-likeness inclusion
into the Roman Empire for for long
that all you get to say: too many consonants...
i say? i say?! you use too many vowels!

but i'm nice in person...
that's why i've decided to to this job...
i want to hone in on my crowd authority
"skills"...
**** knows... one day i might feel like
i want to perform!
i need good target practice!

i just woke up at 7am: the skip was supposed
to arrive between 7:30 and 9:30am...
i have "tattoos" on my arms from the dead-weight
i was lifting...
it's a bi different when you're making yourself
mandible during live-weight sessions of ***
with a "proxy"... *******...
i don't see the problem Jack the Ripper had a problem
with...
last time i checked?
prostitutes?! most hygienic creatures
there are... almost **** about it... like i'm
a **** about hygiene..
i seriously don't care who you sleep with but
at least i don't need to care about
having unprotected *** with one...
  because that's the best *** there is...
          and just imagine:
  when you can build-up such mutual trust with
a perfect stranger:
she judges your hygiene... and you judge her hygienic
standards: you meet on common ground...
an immediate trust bond ensues...
              it's oh so lovely than with some random
stranger picked up in a nightclub...
after all: she probably lives with flatmates
or still with her parents...
  and you still live with your parents because:
you're sort of good friends and the whole mother / father
son relationship is a bit post-modern...
but... well... the brothel is the middle ground...
you're not there to work in the garden
or cook dinners or do household chores...
  or read the Sunday newspaper...
  you're in a brothel to... basically do what
a butcher does in a butcher's shop...

long gone is the mentality of a Jack or
  for that matter Samuel Little...
                      why would i moralise women by way
of moralising them through: killing them?
at least these women... well... out of the... how many
i have slept with... only about 2 had a genuine
(nymphomaniac) love for the act...
    maybe 3... the rest were in the profession and still
hadn't managed to love the idea of ***
like the idea of *** was loved back in the 1960s...

i must have mentioned it once:
i'm not a gambling man...
but i am: when it comes to gambling with a ******...
it's more fun-tub-goochy-goo...
why take the thrill of life from life?!

she sends me a picture of herself behind
a driving wheel: no make-up...
she looks... hmm... as fresh as spring...
i send her a picture of blooming chives...
almost rosemary-like...
no... not rosemary... lavender... no!
quasi-fuschia!
most certainly fissile-like!
          that "rose" without the spines
of a mantis... the chives...
but most certainly the bishops' attire of bloom...
THISTLE! ****'s sake! THISTLE! THISTLE!
THISTLE THISTLE! THISTLE!
FA FA... FI FI... how many surds?!
fizz... isle... burg... doughnut... a load of *******!
did i, at least, get the spelling of fuschia right?!
chances are... no...
  
FUCHSIA...
                  bull riding... ****'s sake...

      but that's what it felt like: the inversion of rock climbing...
carrying these heaps of stones
from the garden into the skip...
    that's why i could never go back to the gym
and pump iron...
                    swimming, tick...
bicycle riding, tick...
    maybe i should revisit my former past-time
and hit a climbing wall in Hackney...
      
  but *** is also great exercise... between than doing
stomach crunches...
    only today i was coming back from a shift at Wembley...
late... late... just came in at 2am...
i was thinking of stopping over to see Khedra...
but then...
  oh you know... if it isn't some ancient perverted
evil of being stimulated by ******* as you groom
your female cat and she sticks her **** up
as you brush her... which wakes up a desire for a woman's
body by way of recoiling to the idea of *******...
then it's... the newly discovered "fetish" for south American
women... Argentinian women: milk-cows...
i don't think i've seen so many well-endowed women
in one evening...

  but... hmm... i can't go in for the act without untrimmed
***** fair... plus... i needed to see my Turkish barber:
yesterday...
  it will have to wait...
  plus pay-day today...
    finally! i've returned my my mental safety-net
of having the minimum £3000 in my now two bank accounts...

sometimes i walk up to a cash machine and people
print their statements and forget to take them...
my £3000 in "savings": they're not savings...
i just like to have this amount of money on the ready...
but other people?
my god... they really are living from pay-check
to pay-check... i don't think i've ever seen a statement
that read: £500+ on the account...
it's usually in the range of £10 to £200...

      on a daily basis this life is somehow worth living:
i'm being reminded of my literary diet...
it's good that i read Marquis de Sade as a teenager
and that only now i'm rediscovering Ovid...
  i think the reverse would have been...
very... very... grotesque.

cronies spit on meritocracy
hucksters love the aristocracy
and grifters don't care
so long as things go their way
another check, another day
if you got them greenbacks
you get a say
otherwise, zip your lips
and walk away

laid low by a man
with a right and a left
laid low by a woman
of mercy bereft

laid low by cowardice
at the point of attack
laid low by the memory
that brought it all back

laid low by the grifters
trading in fear
laid low by the sight
of her child in tears

laid low by the taste
of love turned sour
laid low by the knowledge
that this is the hour

laid low by a song
with no rhyme or reason
laid low by a cold wind
in our last season

laid low by false hope
for freedom's breath
laid low by satori
at the moment of death

Limit THIS Limit THAT... !!!
When We Should Now Really...

Just... LIMIT ALL OF THAT... !!!

Because It’s Basically Chat...
That’s Distorting Our Track...

Don’t Say What You Think...
If You Are... “ Gender Phobic “... !?!

... Is That Really A Thing... ?!?

Something That Now... “Limits”...
What Once Was Deemed As Being...
A... NORMAL Human Being......

Now I Know That I’m REPEATING...
But Is That REALLY A Thing... ?!?

Cos' NORMAL’s Now A Thing...
That’s Gone Beyond Old Limits...
In Terms of How We’re Thinking...

Or Is THAT... FORCED To Think... !?!
Or WORSE Still Now BELIEVE...

Reality’s NEW LIMITS...
Makes Me Now Question Things... ???

A LOAD That Through Expression...
Could Have Me In DETENTION... !?!
Because of New Age Lessens...
Where Genders’ NOW Extensions....
of Things ONCE... “Limited”... !!!!!

When Limits In My View...
Should Not Be SO Askew...

When Racists Keep On Seeing... ?!?
FREEDOM For Their IGNORANT Speeches... !?!

While Gender Now Is Dealing...
In Limiting Free Speaking... ?!?

Aren’t We INDIVIDUALS...
Whose Thoughts AREN'T Always Civil... ?!?

But Now The War Is Much Much More...
Than Bombing Shores of Lands Abroad...
The War’s On THOUGHT Instead of Boards... !?!
Where Colour Limits AREN'T Restricted... ?!?

So You See How Limits DOUBLE...
And Now Are Causing TROUBLE... !!!

Because of STANDARDS...
Leaving Folks HAMPERED...
Due To Limits Now In Use...
That INCREASE Wickedness And ABUSE... !!!!!

ABUSE In View Because Some Youth...
Will Not Run From BASIC TRUTH... !!!

So Now In Schools...
They’re QUICK To EXCLUDE... !!!

When Views EXPOSE How Things Now Go...
As I Said Before New Limits ENFORCE... !!!
Like Cards Are Drawn From A Grifters Deck... !!!!!

New Limits Need CHECKS That Don’t Let ***...
Become A Thing That’s... Confusing... ?

Confusing KIDS Whatever Next... ?!!!!!!!!!!!!!?
As Some Have Said New Limits Exist...
For Agendas With Letters To Now Define Genders...

of... Chicas' and Fellas... ?!?

Well... I Am A MAN...
Who WON'T Limit My Stance... !!!
Just To Get Down With Modern Day Grounds...

BEYOND Common Sense... !?!
When It Comes To These Heads...

Whose Limited Thinking...
Has People Now Linking...
Themselves To These Trends...
That Are CLEARLY NONSENSE... !!!

If Different Opinions...
Become An Offence...
We May Have Dominions...
With... STRANGE Regiments... ?!?

I Now Could Care Less...
About What Is Said...
By Leaders And People...
Who’d Rather Now Spend...
Their Life In... "A Pen"...
Because They Are Feeble... !!!

So This Is A Poem That Basically Says...
NOBODY'S Above Hearing Ignorance Run... !!!

WHATEVER Your Gender...
You’re Part of The Blender...
Where... Opinions Live...

And NO - ONE Can Tell You...
The Way YOU SHOULD THINK... !!!

Because Freedom Of Thought...
Should NOT Be Diminished...
As Thoughts Are NOT RIGID... !!!

And Should NEVER Be Something...
That Are Subject To.....

........... “ Limits “............

Now I’m A LYRICAL GUERRILLA... !!!
Who’s A VERY DEEP THINKER... !!!
  
So Am NOT Some *******...
Like That Paedo’ Gary Glitter... !!!
  
Or The Type Who Beds SISTERS... !?!
Because What Kind of Heart...
Would Tear Sisters APART...
To Fulfil Their ****** Needs... ?!?
  
Like Some Kind of HUNGRY MONKEY...
That LACKS... MORALITY... ?!?
  
Now By Sisters I Mean...
Those Who Are Part of The SAME FAMILY... !!!
  
Because Those Kind of Antics...
Are Those QUICKLY Redacted...
  
By Guerrillas Like ME... !!!
Because I’m NOT Like These FIENDS... !!!
Cos’ I’m A DIFFERENT Kind of Breed... !!!
To Those Who Choose To Feed...
  
Like Count Drac’ And His Team... !!!
of Bloodsuckers Who Seem...
To Be The Type Who Lead...
... And Run Societies... !!!
  
So My GUERRILLA Tactics...
Feed LYRICAL LASHINGS...
That I Give Through Poetry... !!!
  
Because I’m LYRICALLY...
… MORE DANGEROUS... !!!
Than These Young Emcees...
Who Just Chat BREEZE...
To Earn Themselves Money... !!!
  
Who Show WAYWARDNESS...
And Degrees UNLIKE The THREE...
  
You See My Verse INDEED...
Is VERSATILE And DEADLY... !!!
  
So I’m More Like A KONG...
Whose Lyrically STRONG... !!!
  
So DO NOT Belong...
In A World of Shapeshifters... !!!
  
Where Those Enlisted...
Are Regularly... ******... !!!
It Seems By Shirt Lifters...
And Monetary Grifters...
Who Run From TRUE Guerrillas... !!!
  
Whose Form of Lyricism...
Is Simply Too HARD HITTING... !!!
  
Because Their Breed Is WEAK... !!!
So Employ DEVIOUS Ways  ...
To Keep Their Puppets CAGED...
As Well As Lyrically TAME...
As Long As They SEE FAME... !!!
  
But REAL Guerrillas...
... DON’T Walk That Way... !!!
  
They Walk In Ways Too STRAIGHT...
For The World... TODAY...
Where Groups Now DICTATE...
What Entertainers Say... !!!
  
Well REAL GUERRILLAS AREN’T Willing...
To Be TAMED And Placed...
In Places Where They Lay...
Like PROSTITUTING Dames... !!!
  
Because Our Lyrics DISPLAY...
Wordplay That SHAKES...
And DECIMATES These Fakes... !!!
  
And PUSSYHOLES...
Who Are CONTROLLED... !!!
  
Like Robots Being Made...
To Patrol And Act Like They...
Can Pretend To Be HUMANE... !?!
  
It’s CRAZY Now To SEE...
How WEAK Most People Be... !!!
  
While Protests Make Some Feel...
As If They’re Being REAL... !!!
  
When... Most of Them...
Are Part of THE PROBLEM... !!!
  
Because They’ve SHUNNED GUERRILLAS...
Until Their NON EXISTENT... !!!
  
Because This New Breed...
DOESN'T Seem To See...
That New Technology...
Can **** INDISCRIMINATELY...
And Face NO PENALTIES... !!!
  
Just Like TODAYS Police... !!!
  
Who Now DON’T Seem To Be...
So Willing To Police The Streets... !?!
  
Because of... The Disease...
That Corona CANNOT Beat... !!!
  
The DISEASE of FALLACIES...
And IGNORANCE That’s Reached...
  
LEVELS... Now BEYOND BELIEF... !!!
  
Which Is Why BIG VIRGE...
Is A Wordplay KILLER...
  
Who Can ONLY Be DEFINED...
  
As A.....
  
.... “ LYRICAL GUERRILLA “....

In the end
the line bends,
curving to collect
all we wish to inspect.

The way is not straight,
and waves of joy
may be too late
to save a perfect state
of peace.

Life may convict,
turn us to convicts
but if we live
than hopefully
we will have
the chance
to change things.

The grifts are plenty,
and grifters more,
but they came before
and though I abhor
their vile ways
they will probably
still be here after me.

You are a curiosity,
a very strange
flower to me,
blooming beautifully
with grand ideas
I hope to read.

Though some days
I may complain
and some pains
may strain my brain,

I hope I will
always try to be
a kinder,
wiser,
better,
version of me.