infinitely flexible, malleable
in every way imaginable;
sprinkled in magic with a taste that can

2. complicatesimplifyconfuseand
clarify;

3. a compass with which castle crafters
map their masterpieces, built from layers of
similes and metaphors and symphonies of sound,
of memories and apologies and everything bound;

4. a reel of delicate threads which
fervently await a seamstress of words to
weave them together;


*impressionable when you don’t mean it,
fleeting when you do.

may the way that gives way to this accord of may be in awe of truth and not the fruits of disarray

I shall be meditating upon the roads travelled and many discoveries gather that I have unravelled

I shall curl my high excitements and misguided ambitions to unfurl what the calls of the wise unfurl and admonish

In the mist amidst the tricking twists of fits and false gists, may I hold up fists that will seize to desist and delete the disease of fallacy in curtailed wit

In the shadows dark, some pale
may I not fade into the tales of lies and manipulative games

In the guise of dames so modern and fabulously inclined to fame,
may I guage and carry my animosity into the mystery of my identity where only the genuine and real can relate

In the encounters with material and all that deters from the mystic and ethereal,
I hope to remember the real surreal to surmise the reels of fantasy thrills in graphic frills and euphonic trills

However the gigantic systems of the world in money, greed, vanity or lust, may doctor sickness into the souls of the lost and weak:
may my heart remain meek and my vision bright and led by the lens of the soul....

With or without I pray not as a religious pilgrim but a sage seeking neverending Light... ever the more grateful, harnessing the grapes of creation, worshiping a servant's code in humility.

hustling about this rash hassle of life overshadowed by pyramids and castles
remaining true to the cause even when temptation is endlessly bustling about
remember remember the hustle when you were down and out without

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God,
…you have my prayers, my wink, salute and a nod!”

Can’t go wrong if you at least try,
in the future your dreams will make you fly,
and every fork in the road will make you sigh,
but keep on *truckin’ cause you’ll get by,
and end up happy before you die-eye...

When I sailed off the world from the Keys,
Janus and Cybele didn’t bother me,
the river of pain and hate you see,
-angry Charon screaming for his fee.
The moon his eyes, his gaze you see,
the crescent his boat they call a fer-ry,
the three-headed dog, it barked at me,
thunderous clouds, they rocked the sea,
I prayed for Jesus to comfort me,
reaching heaven at the shores of 'Gal-Li-Lee-e...'

At the top of the Tower we all spoke the same 'langa-guage' you see?
and Jesus said, “You know we just call it 'spirit-tual-lity','
I turned to him and said,

“Old friend, you ain’t gotta waste no time on me.”
I’m just gonna kick back here a bit, and stare out at that sea!”

And he replied just as quick,

“Remember the Beast and stormy seas and that angry captain who yelled at thee?”

“It wasn’t yet time for you to go, you left something undone didn’t you know?”

Just then I heard the cries and wails,
I jumped back in my boat and loosed the sails,
the winds picked-up and drove my ark,
as I set sail out in to the dark...
And Jesus called out, beckoned me,

“Fare thee well on your jour-ney!”

I had gotten everything I wanted in life,
a home, three kids and a beautiful wife...
I felt I was fulfilled inside and it was proper if I died!

But Father made me 'real-a-lize' it was not about me but what I’d left behind.

That journey back was harder than I’d thought,
fraught with peril and that ****** dog!

I must make it back to my 'fam-mil-ly' and this **** storm won’t be the end of me!

I saw them there out on the beach,
as Charon’s ship slammed into me,
his Dragon-dog’s flames burned my ship
-so I jumped overboard and swam for it,
I woke up to my wife staring down at me,
-our three little Indians peaceful and fast asleep,

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!
My prayers, my wink, salute and my nod,"

“I know there’s more to life than what I got and I’ll do better if you gimme a shot. What I have and my own strife, wife and children and the family life in this journey it was never about me and that’s the thing I didn’t ever see.”

Wife and kids and 'fam-mil-ly,'
trials, tribulations and stormy seas,
the book and faith, 'spirit-tual-lity,'
are what a man’s life, -is supposed to be,

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!
You have my prayers, my wink, salute and my nod!
Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God,
…for my family, my life and all I’ve got.”

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!”

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!”

“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!”

*“Thank You Jesus and blessed-be God!”

Im the hardest to Hit
Since Tupac *******
On Killuminati
Somebody pass me the 12 guage shotti
Now feel these slugs hit yo body
Enemies bleed indeed love for greed
Feeds a ***** soul
Since theres no rest for the wickedness
Evilness is an imperative of mankind
Pack a chromed .45 and a black .9
As thoughts began to unravel from my mind
lookin' for adversaries to put
on flat lines
******* to one time
I pull down my pants
so them ******* can **** my ****
NOW WHOS THE REAL TRICK?
im reachin' through souls
Of young boys n girls
They hate me cuz the way i swirl
Money with my two middle fingers to the world
Have no fear cuz the Lord is here
In flesh he puttin' me through a test
For my heart
Battlin' tactics im growin' frantic
Never see me panic
Now you punk *** critics show me yo heart
Puttin' rounds in yo chest
Now ya dearly depart
No sorrow from me on a mission
Hittin' yo number one charts
With this **** ****
my ****** feel this from East to West Coast
Though I'm  From the South  i still
Love to boast
Makin' a ghetto toast
To the real
Got every heart in the burbs to slums
Packin' steel
No time to back downs soon ill be holdin' the crown
Mild scars from breakin' the slaveryyy
Wither its reason or rhyme to crime and strife
We embracin' that **** life!!!



Dream to reach stars but dreams can be broken,
Bitter memories and the pain is unspoken.
It won’t be erased, but submerged beneath new pages.
Expectations do not match reality.
Reality is what you choose to make real.
Turn inside and guage what you have earned,
Smiles will not dissolve forever,
For there is always a lesson learnt.

Be ready to except a fall,
You might be just witnessing an illusion.
Things don’t need to be the way you dream.
'haps you're living someone else’s dream.
The dreamer was an artist, the hand that wrote it all.
Hate is not bad; it’s just an emotion after all.
Paint a picture on the canvas but know that it can be burnt.
Throw the ashes and treasure the scars, to remember the lesson learnt.

Life is not bad; it’s irregular, unanticipated but grand,
Changes make you alive, but through them only one will take your hand.
Time is a two faced arrow, your mind is vicious and vast,
It flows from present to future, but also to the past.
Light is just not beauty, Encompass the dark,
Your canvas will be painted, not alone but with the stars.
When your walk is not alone, when you’re whole you will discern,
One day you cried and now you laugh on what you learnt.

She was riding me with violence
Then there came this suspect silence,
Our bodies’ short alliance
Had came to a swift end.

Dismounting like a trooper,
She left me in a stupor…
To write on her computer?
I lay there in a daze!

She looked at me with eye of,
The deepest green, they’re kind of,
(you may have caused this rhyme love)
Like a gangrenous dove.

“I’ might continue later…”
I struggled not to hate her,
But it’s not her job to cater
To my seductive gait, or my deviant- like needs.

So I hatched a plan that just might,
Render my plight more trite,
And make my mind-set alright,
To continue through this day.

So I grabbed my **** with vehemence,
and pumped with such experience
that the ceiling’s coat of cream just
might vindicate my mind.

As it was dripping off the ceiling…
I began to get this feeling,
My intent had been revealing
To this cheeky penguin's view

As I looked over to guage her
reaction, I'd ought to savour,
but I was faced with a much stranger
Situation than I’d expect.

She was sitting with a smile...
The umbrella cocked awhile.
She must have seen through my quite vile,
Intentions straight away

She tilted her head slightly,
and with a wink, said quite politely -
"I guess you're done now Riley?
My plan...it worked a treat"

That’s why I like this woman,
She keeps me guessing more than,
a stockmarket versed in Russian,
or a way to end this poem.

The first time you hear a gunshot in person is a coming-of-age event. Where were you when you heard it? Standing behind your dad, wearing earmuffs and protective glasses while he showed you how to brace for the recoil of a 12 guage shotgun? Going into a shooting range to learn self defense and studying everyone else because you're too nervous to ask how you're supposed to stand or how you're supposed to hold it? On the street in the dark with your friends, walking through the rough part of the neighborhood to prove how big your sack was? Blam. Bright light. Blam. Total darkness. Blam. Bright light. Three shots. A total of 2.3 seconds has gone by. You are suddenly years older, because of how much those 2.3 seconds of time ages you. Your friend's injured. Blam. Get down. Blam. Go home. 1.8 seconds. Everything is silent now. The only sound is the ringing in your ears, followed by the peeling tires of the vehicle. Smoke hangs motionless in the air. In your head, in your room later that night, in the hospital to bring one of them poorly stated "Get well soon" cards and in the graveyard to bring the other one flowers, you only hear one sound. Blam. Four years later. Training on a range with soldiers. Have the drill sergeant scream in your face that you don't know what it's like to watch your best friend take a bullet in the battlefield. Compose yourself. Two years later, walking to work through the bad part of a different city. You already know it's going to happen. This time, it's not to you, or to anyone you know, but you hear it anyways and you think of the first time. Unfortunately, it's not the first time we all like to think about, which is usually a backseat, or your parents basement, or in the school bathroom, no, this one's a bang that's much less enjoyable. We're told not to talk about it. We live in fear of it. A constant fear. You start to feel unsafe where you live. Better go by a gun.

That night did you feel my hand trembling as I held my finger against the trigger of a 22 guage handgun.
Did you hear my tear drops hit the floor when I realized that I wasn’t man enough to do it.
Do you taste the bile in my mouth every time I try to drink myself to death,
Or maybe you heard the wails of my mother whenever she found out that her son was a ***, slapping her head like I had just set her on fire.
I apologize for my unorganized poetry.
With its lack of rhyme scheme and rhythm,
But quite frankly I’m tired of putting on a show.
I don’t like sitting in your office waiting for your approval to speak.
Or listening to your sob stories about the lack of thanks we’ve shown you.
It’s just not enough that we’re expected to call you a father figure and polish your statues and play hop scotch across bricks with your name on them.
And let’s not forget the theatrical performances staged in your name.
But no Mr. President there is yet to be built an ivory tower in your name with a sacrificial fire burning at its feet.
Because it would honestly get your attention more if I just threw myself into its flames while shouting odes to you in Latin.
Really what is my worth to you.
The price tags hanging above your thousands of children are not equal, so I would really like to be rung up and placed in a plastic bag, just so I could see my receipt.

Everybody wanna hate me
And be me
In the same sentence
Im grimy no need for repentance
They say im too controversial
**** the media
I stay underground f the commercial
Ya born with nothing
Ya die with nothing
So why would I
Try hug the flames in the sky
Searchin' for light
Putting up a fight in the blight
Light my blunts to open my cells
Destined for jail earth is hell
Cant get a break from a job
So 9 to 5 switch to robs
At night i conjure my darkest identity
Me myself I triple darkness regardless
How many form come
I got many algorithm one by one
Step by step page by page
Im in a rage
on the verge of slayin'
Witha 12 guage
MUASSEnBERG **** what ya heard?
ignore the singining birds
They get hot shots for coming to my spots
And **** cops
They deserve to get drop
Slayin' the innocent people
How is thr land of free
But believe youll wake up soon
In this 21 century
Ill be. Exposin' there secrecy
So go ahead and hate me
***** but??????


Histories a lie
I seen imagines
Of Caesar
pretendin- to be Son of Man
Understand
They deify humans
Nothin' but carnal minded
Individual
This world  is precisely
Satirical
Im caught in the diabolical imperial
How i survive is a miracle
Gave up childhood became a miracle
Spinnin' cob webs
Over my enemies and my ashes be
Tokes from **** smoke
Guns is tote
Just incase of an altercation
And you'll be at deaths administration
Beat the case with no hesitation
Im bringing chaos to every nation
Hope them ******* hear me
Clear me out
By the time they find me
Ill be out
Like Snowden spreaadin' luv
With Russia
Dont come to me cuz ill crush ya
Know the 48 laws to power
as i devour your flesh
With gun powder
Try to escape the reign
Only to entice more pain
To ya brain
Since the game done changed
Fools still aint rearranged
The pieces to the puzzle
I found i was stolen
From centuries ago and where do i go
From here i hear the heavens tryna
Give me a sign
Light coverin' the dark spark
For the spliff
Im the edge of th3 cliff
Soon to crossover throwover
Government entity
But nobody will see what i see
I got envisions of my
Enemies in casket im drastic
Graphic
With the designs i illustrate
And if you hate ?
That means you ******* cant relate
But you...

at what point wasn't it a way to bypass
the editorial scrutiny...
to directly engage with a reading
public...
why did i think this might be: any good?
i guess i only thought:
i need this out and i can't stash it
like a corpse...
into some damp cellar... like a morally
relativistic monstrosity of a sociopaths'
analogy of: "feels"...
   well, no **** Sherlock!
how i made the following reply...
is beyond me:

- believe me... i had more to write but i felt a sense of restraint... i'd like to see what a terse reply would make you focus on... so i'm scrapping the concept of handicap: heads up... now it all depends what you'll be choosey about... or not... because there's plenty in you reply i could quip about... well... then again: is being witty synonymous with being satirical? i'm not for intelligent / condescending humour on my part... personally i love the dryness of sarcasm... but then again: what's to like about the bluntness of nail-heads? just my take on... what exactly not to like about schadenfreude (what's not to like about schadenfreude)... i'd much prefer a humiliation of a leather gimp suit... so it seems: honesty is the best joke in play... there are too many stereotypes in England too... the best one i heard was by my Glaswegian english teacher in school... ahem... how was copper wire invented? two Scots arguing over a penny... like the stereotypical arsenal of deciphering the Jewry run wild in the realm of the gentiles... with the Scots... being our prized asset of: reverse stereotyping... i guess because knowledge of poor Hebrews is either a mystery or taboo... worse still... a mythology... and here i promised myself restraint... yet i'm experiencing something of a writing block and i... most probably found the most surprising alternative outlet... the eroteme lady - ms. query... so there must be nothing concrete about you... well... i too remember being a teenager prior to 2000 on those hotmail chatrooms where the acronym ASL could get you... all hot & bothered... don't take this the wrong way but i've heard that most writers, poet (i'm a chicken scratching doodler at best) reverted to the medium of correspodence... lucky you, "lucky" that i'm testing the waters on you... but don't worry... i've tested the medium with other people and wondered about their stamina... you are starting to gravitate toward psychiatrist status...  it's so strange though... not writing on abstract... blank... rather: inform sender... it's to them... all that *******, romantic or not... about writing for that one person... sure... **** it... write 'em a letter... don't mind about that trippy-*** poem of yours... you know? apologies if you come across as something of a punching bag for sounds... i hope no typos... well typos can be excused... ah these ****** articles about... wait wait... momentary lucidity... i was going to use some of this in my way of combating my writing block... the troubles in the english language... spelling... "approximation" drop the vowels realise: that's how the Hebrews wrote all along... treating their vowels like diacritical markers... the ****?! i feel like i'm being robbed in plain sight... because Copernicus didn't ******* realise jack-****... they pile it up with their Pope and the execution of ******* Galileo...  ugh... it takes some ******* nerve for these days to allow for this ****-centred kindergarten of events in man's... non-evolving history to continue like some: no ******* dodo exctinction ever took place... (agreed... the following are all faux pas... "invigorations") honey? babe? ms. anonymous gender fluid pronoun neutral... what's the informal, best? ms. avatar ms. harleyquinn the world's stupid? what are american stereotypes of europeans? come to think of it... that cookies is too big to take a bite from... you can't exactly base stereotypes having only seen tourists... since a tourist is a stereotype per se... i'd have to go to california... to get a californian stereotype... to georgia for the georgian stereotype...  wait a minute... Costa Rica... "hint hint"? Latino? that wasn't exactly... it was a fork in the road... the Sephardi... you're working from an avatar canvas... you're making allusions to... what i look like and it's like i'm a mesmerising doppelganger of al pacino... is there a chicago accent? i heard a lot of the ****** diaspora was lodged in that *******... i was terrible at accents... almost always a chamaleon... people still ask me where i'm from... so like this one-stand-up comedian in Edinburgh said... when he was quizzed about the geography of his accent... 'you might recognise my accent... it's... educated'... now that's that... isn't it? i could fake you an indian accent if i wanted to... perhaps a german accent too... but i could fake it... by the way... in these parts... biligualism can be treated as schizophrenia... just saying... somehow integration is not fully deserving the status that: not integrating decides... because... not integrating is... "safety first"... the dodo project alliance...  least of all... i've been dying to by a baseball cap with the Cleveland Indians old logo with chief wahoo... so stereotyping americans... it's beyond hard... it's like stereotyping Russian that are not in the vicinity of Moscow... some are probably Mongol remnants... their own idiosyncratic solipsists to their own... i'll take up my bicycle tomorrow and this drunken tirade will most probably fizzle out... i truly couldn't make up giving a toss about what's internalized americana stereotyping... not that i don't care... i just don't know... the currency of the nation sends me years and years of Ed Gein reinterpretations... what am i supposed to "say"? tomorrow i'll be up early and bothered about my bicycle as if it were a horse... but i'll still want to retain gravity with leaving you with this frankness of a reply... lobster-red probably implies if not simply implores: ginger and freckles... i like to think of suntans as serpents shedding skin... i suntan i'm a copperneck... i like the german sound on this... plus... it's readily available as compounded: kupfernacken... what's better? auburn-tease? kastanienbraunecken? i like the joy you feel with what you already prescribed me with.. that i know so little about you... that while i'm prodding you withhold giving me concreteness.... concreteness would allow me... disadvantage me to focus on "things" that are absolutely not necessary... so: i can focus on whether i'm not being pedantic enough and: misspelling...so... what's the stereotype surrounding Alaskan gurls?!

- thanks for being ascribed in getting my "mojo" back...for now...

- What do you mean? I'm surprised this is the shortest message you've sent. I was getting used to your drunk musings. [I say this with a smile but I know you don't like emojis or silly acronyms, and writing out "laugh out loud" sounds ridiculous... after all, you know how important sounds are to me].

- you just asked one of those questions that... is aligned with asking... 'what are you thinking'? the moral 'ought compass waved me a goodbye and if i haven't broken any laws to pursue the sort of freedom of though i currently enjoy... bypassing the need so stress a "freedom" of speech... writing is an extension of thought: not a prompt / invitation to speak... i'm surprised that you scrutinise the length of my replies... and were we to begin with? in the "easily offended" pile-up? well i'm still getting drunk... you're still an avatar mystery... but at least i'm waging a war on prosaic sobriety to boot... i guess i had to come clean at some point... i never write sober... i don't see the point of being: disengaged from the genuine (a longer version of a one word would have sufficed... but i'm lazy about the spelling... while at the same time... there's this critical theory approach done in some of the newspapers about english spelling... let's see if i get it right... dis-in-genius... for starters... disengenous.. horrid... aaah so terrible... dis-less-advantageous... disadvantageous... oh **** me... i wriggled into that one: all sound and proper...why ask me: what do i "mean"? - it's not that i don't like emojis (well, i don't) but... what the hell... there are better hieroglyphs to focus on than chiseled into pyramid stone: own... happy face... the Chinese were doing ******* x-ray gizmo **** at almost the same time... it's a focus loss... don't even get me started that *** = a Parisian hello with tendering the cheeks with... a labyrinth of smooches... my lips are my pouches blah blah blah... you seem to be enjoying my rants... i gather? i don't even know why to bother with an ask (question doesn't even do justice to how i'm framing this)...  you want to write as little as possible to properly excavate me... well no surprise... if light can't bend around corners... i'll have a look: none-the-less... emphasis on the hyphens... this poor down-trodden word could be helped with some "breathing space"; no? i "mean": 霜... shoo-aang... frost... i have dancing skeletons throwing toothpicks at chopsticks pilled up in an area of pine wood... look at this sort of *******... and here we are... cradling one of the old languages with "holes in letters"... to peer through... O now i see... B: otherwise: ha, ha ha ha... what's **** in Chinese? the Greek prized π... but what P & I look like for a farting, mandarin? hey presto: "@"... not even a western concern for "patriarchy" could have complicated: what's already too complicated... a billion people... a wall... that didn't keep out the Mongols from invading... yet a phonetic encoding system that... would topple each and every pyramid... from Giza to the cleaving of South America from Africa that can be staged at some Aztec "miracle"... i am writing (to) you like a bewildered person... because: why wouldn't i otherwise not be? so what do i mean? hmm... what's that holy trinity of statistical terms... mean... meridian... mode? i think i remember correctly... thank god i'm not going to apologise for being drunk... i've heard the stereotypes of drunkards with no future for thirst... the other thirst... the thirst for something beside their own handicap... i'd also duly convert to Islam too... i was cycling past a mosque and heard the most impossible sound of praise that will never escape me... but by the bottle i did: closer to the Jewry i am... contradictory how that is... don't want to stop drinking... uncircumcised... it's a really magical juggling act that's littered with self-deprecating humour interludes... aligned with norse mythologies... grr... **** me... now i'm attempting to "sell" you a makeshift tinder profile sketch... don't know... never will... never used: don't ask...  but i forgive you... for asking me: what does "it" all mean? it means we're for the thrill of it... it makes sense if we're still gagging for it... and we're not exposed to old-age closure cinematic scripts of solo cinema of memory... i like typing because i have itchy fingers... you'd probably like to hear me speak... no? it's exactly 20 minutes past midnight and i have a date with a bagel at 9am tomorrow morning... i still want another injection of truth in me before i do the  lady nox some justice and sleeping with her fiendish daughters... i mean... who does that... wake you up with a hard-on? never mind... i don't even know how to end this "convo": it can't be with a farewell... or an adieu... or a サヨナラ... oh wait... that's "goodbye, forever"... how does one end a half-way between a musing and a real person on the replying end of "things"... i guess like this: NARA... ナラ... short for narazie...  translated from my mutterzunge as: perhaps loosely... for the time being... for now... how else... to end my tirade?!

- So let me get this a bit straight (as straight as a stray arrow, that is): you only write when you're drunk (I'm the luckiest one to be at the listener - or reader in this case - end of your tirades as you call them... I call them musings); you have a fixation with words, even the ones that you don't know how to spell correctly (except maybe in a language I don't know so I can't really tell), you didn't answer why I'm ascribed to getting your mojo back (where did it go?), and you wake up with a hard-on. Got it!

- i've been lodged into a backlog: ******-town sort of: stalling... give me a few hours... although: ever wonder what: giggles sounds like... in the deafness of the night? i do... i want to reply you like so... like now... like this... maybe i will... maybe i will not... i'm gaging to buy one of those cleveland chiefs baseball caps...the grinning siouxsie chieftan....perhaps i want to relearn "how to": take the GRIN... a little bit more... seriously... no? **** it... i'm drinking as it is... i want to reply you in full throttle... straight arrows... and the welsh V of the longbow-men too to boot... chopsticks straighter... "straighter"... i tend to only write when i'm drunk... i abhor sober prosaic intimidation and... all the lies, subsequently...sober people don't get "drunk" on moral relativism of white lies? and i'm born yesterday, no? you openly venture into... a quest of question within the regards... of being... this only.... i almost wanted you to feel this sort of... an alienating increment... of... how i might pile on more detail... they are musings... i don't take them seriously... about as much relax as is a required: necessary.... i have a fixation with words... jurisprudence to me is merely a game of thesaurus ploy-tow... i spell i don't spell... i'm overtly pedantic... i also felt queasy when testing my eyes at an authentic testimony of the "law"  being "exaggerated"... "tested"... "proved"..i must have: lying eyes... no other eyes do see... no? i have a fixation with "things" beside the usage of ***** and strobe lighting...

you have my attention... don't you? you know... the last time i attempted having a conversation... i was too naive...too young... everything "everything" applied itself to being too predictable... i want to love again: but being in love is almost a weakness... i don't feel like being weak... i guess this is where the rekindling of my "mojo" ends... hello cul de sac...

new paragraph... ever hear(d) of the alpha and the omega "man"? i'm pretty sure you heardf of mr. beta... for all the worth of a totality of... man... i'm last... i'd forever be... last... i don't want to be first... i also don't want to be 2bd sniffing **** and crab-meat-... either...

give me the totality... i'll be satisfied with a "question" of
last... hence the expression: omega man...
didn't hey-zeus say?
i'm the alpha and the omega?

i don't write sober, i'n afraid i might lie...
you're not lucky,..
but you're also not... godzilla....

i "somehow" haven't ascribed you with the sort of details of: explanation that would allow you... to satiate yourself with answers... as to how... why... yllu managed to "mojo" probe me back to life? you.. the Faroe Islands to begin with? you know... they have this gimmick... on the Faroe Isles... it's not a gimmick... it's called// i don't know what's it called... skúvoy? but i'm happy to tease when the whales are slaughtered... the the blood comes a running: the lions also... apparently tease with a yawn... look at this word, though: grindadráp....

ever catch the giggle im der nacht? nein? too italian... no? ******* borrowed pollack: the self-depreciating... loan... not load... of bollocking...

don't believe yourself as being the sole recepient of a reply...

you're not lucky... you're just... available...

terribly botherome... isn't, it?

- i thought i'd make this a two tier reply... it would be a shame to reread what i wrote on one of my "escapades"... perhaps this... hanging-over... ha'h... more like hung, drawn & quartered some time to time... but believably sane, pleasantly morose - at evens with masochism... so reclining into a moral trip-up... i probably mentioned grindadráp - since i still have the window open on the phrase i'm familiar with... Sámal Joensen-Mikines... i most probably ended up giggling in the night... god... i'm just skim reading what i wrote... well good to know that i can only the best thing and sober up: simultaneously returning to a more rigid, conventional... formal use of language: that i might suppose i'm in a confessional booth... a welcome mirage for the time being... while i decide to wither away watching the old firm (a derby soccer match between celtic & rangers)... of note... i had this argument with the natives so time ago... the... Celts... but it's the Boston / Glasgow Çeltics... no? you're a girl that likes sounds... i've been following this current discussion that has reached the heights of printed newspapers... citation, sian griffths (gwif-if-if-ififs) education editor: new spelling ROOLS to make english more predictable for pupils... "we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the feelds..." see... i really admired Charlie Bukowski for a while... until he came out as a lazy slob who would require an editor to correct his spelling... there's dyslexia and there's just plain: hash-browns... for all my worth of idiosyncrasy that i wriggle in as i go along, most of which will not find common ground and a cosmopolitan outlet of users... for me, as someone who acquired this tong'u: i've grown fond of how aesthetically messy this toong can become and how readily available this messiness is... even London can become a ****-joke: Loon'dune... in my mutterzunge sounds are more distinct... apart from the graphemes sz, ch, cz, rz (ż) - i'd have to borrow from a Czech a caron to hide a letter or two: š (sz / the equivalent SHarp in english) and č (cz / CHatter respectively)... all these unique sounds... ą, ę, ć, ń, ó, ś, ź - Wombat ł... anyway... i just thought, sobering up... that you'd like to have a certain bulging volume of fudge to return to... before i take another dive into ms. amber and pass another night as w. h. auden wrote: only the hitlers of this world write at night... sure... herr auden... because the day is for watching football and / or cycling.

- à propos: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-L5iefl2QtA

- If you share music can I? I'm sorry that I didn't reply sooner. It's been a **** last week and this week isn't any better yet. I like reading your messages, drunk and sober. When I write in my native language I use the accent over the vowels to emphasize the second-to-last vowel of a word. I love speaking, reading and writing in my native language, though I'm sure that I know much less than you would about languages. Shall we continue talking about sounds? How about sounds in my language? Of course, you have to guess if you haven't already.

- mind you: i had second thoughts about writing this reply... perhaps you can judge for yourself... i'm just not into having double-mystery encounters with an "avatar"... plus i made an emphasis on the point... what music were you not going to share?

sure... but first share your music... i have this thirst for Nick Hornby's high fidelity and being a teenager again... a teenager in love, again...i was probably the most happy-go-anywhere sort of person when i found a vinyl copy of Wardruna's kvitravn in my local HMV... which is: sunrise records and entertainment ltd trading as hmv & fopp.... given i already have the other chapters on cd - copied into mp3... (runaljod - yggdrasil & gap var ginnnunga)...  and given it's so rare to fnd a vinyl of this calibre... that some vinyls comes with an mp3 link... i thought: hell... i'll give this record the proper 3D aura treatment and not listen to it on headphones... or utilise it to "conquer" space... & just walking with it across a market sq. without a plastic bag to stash it in... i might as well have walked with a cat on my shoulder... because... who the hell still buys... well... invests in vinyl? now... coming to the language...second-to-last vowels of  word... you know... you can keep me interested without overplaying this "mystery" game... isn't the use of an avatar enough? i really can't comprehend a language that focuses on second to last vowels... without focusing on vowels: per se... just to reiterate... you didn't share a link to some music... you pitted yourself as American... i can continue being interest without having too many enigmas to sort... i have yet to find a language that only applies accents to, e.g. suppOsE... or maybe i'm just too ignorant to have come across a language that behaves in such a way: unless it's some idiosyncratic variation (of it)... you don't have to remain a complete mystery to me for me to keep engaging... there can be some sort of rooting in reality... otherwise i'll just return to my original purpose of writing: staging myself against a blank canvas and a barrage of sounds that i'll need to "un-spaghetti" into linear streaks.... i'm not going to guess: you'll either tell me or not... i'm currently listening to snake-pit poetry: einar selvik... any one can have a ****** week... for a while i was anticipating you testing whether or not i'd reply not getting a reply from you... and that, somehow, miraculously... i'd continue to creep-up to teasing you again... perhaps that's me dabbling in misnomers... no... you'll need to give me something concrete... i'm already starting to itch with a sensation that i better return to the canvas than keep this conversation... no offence... it's just draining me when something abstract could also be doing: likewise... but it wouldn't end up being a ****-tease... i could possibly create something out of it... not just so more: oh... oh? ** **: what's next?! i know when it becomes a brain-drain... a side project... it has to come with an excuse whereby you'll probably recoil with: but i had a ****** week... granted... but who hasn't...  you could have waited another week until participating in the timeframe of the passing of weeks started to feel good once more... if you only dropped a music suggestion... otherwise... thanks... but... no... this conversation is going nowhere... i think i'm just relocating my writing block elsewhere... all the best: in keeping an aura of mystery... within the realm of avatars and non-accountability... come to think of it... no... this is as fair as i could be.

this supposed "unique" specimen... not really...
i want to focus on what allows me to belong:
beside the unfathomable landmarks
of trees and mountains:
roaming stars that even my demented
grandfather corrected himself on...
satellites... no... roaming stars?!
well... i didn't conjure this **** out of my own
*** for pleasure, either...

back towards... falling asleep while listening
to the Hellraiser soundtrack:
hellbound...
because eerie is how:
i how how: "things"...
i'm so alone at times that it's beyond making
sense: it's about infringing on a god-stature...
status... this omniscient
contradiction that some Elijah bundled up
into... two crows croaked...
the tower of London can entertain 6:
so the king's ******* and the queen's
jewels are left intact...
for the successor to worry about...

we have these conversations but too bad
the girl is playing timid...
and i'm... gargantuan...
the length of a tongue that turns into an eel...
hands like octopus extension...
i could wrap her up in... bubblewrap
and start the puncture pinch-pinch ceremony
of not seeing the bubble float: up-up...

i have a sense of ego like...
a bad l.s.d. trip?!
****-guage-abuse? gauge? sort the ones
for the snoozing zero-toasts
and you have yourself
a new jersey smart: bite-off... not bit... though...

i could never have children:
not because i could never be a good father:
but i'd be a terrible husband...
how do i "know"?
i would never allow myself
to earn the amount:
she'd want to spend...
via solo: i'll spend on ms. cojack amber
and some ******* liquorice vinyl...
and a bicycle...
rubber-teasing: ****-teet-****....
when using the brakes...
when minding my ******* "luck"
on a roundabout with a massive twuck...

plus i'd love to **** more...
i'd love to **** as much more as
the thought-"taboos" discourage me
from doing... so it's a nice adventure: thinking
the next: moral antagonist, antithesis
of "could i"?
central theme? Lo-li-t'ah...
and i'm the second from third removed
uncle of the marquis de sade...
you want... you need... you have to orientate
yourself around the last taboo...
the one that's not associated with...
crispy clean antics of those *******
in their savvy leather gimp suits etc.

"power to the people": *******...
power to who owns what...
i'm starting to conjure up
profanities akin to:
but at least when they owned slaves...
they took care of their slaves...
they wouldn't want a slave to be rotten...
to be despondent...
trouble with freedom is...
my own, self-made... man...
if i were a slave...
i'd learn to bend the rules...
i'd entertain the fantasy of freedom...
while being constrained with...
all the benefactor securities...
i'd be owned but i'd also be:
obligated to a social contract of some sort...

so freely as to nothing be:
so averaging assumptions...
presumptions... so by nothing i unfree myself:
to... sort of quest to: "be"...
while the priestly class held back literacy...
within the timeframe of when
a new literacy emerged... of coding...
so double-up-on-surds... no?

herr gizmo l:)(}{
the realm of the three brackets... )}]...
one literacy replaced the old literacy
but in terms of retaining the old type...
the new type is... not exactly allowing
for movement of... hearts? is, it?
i still have to retain punctuation...
i still need need to perfect it...

but this is not conversational linguinie,
is it?
i stand firm in, stressing:
writing is an extension of thought...
writing is an extension of thought:
it's hardly an invitation to speak...
the past centuries haven't taught us
that literacy is a constraining beast of priests'
fancy?
let me... detail my limbs for you
in stressing this point further:
what good came from the project
of literacy en masse?
graffiti scribbling on brick walls?
out of what beside desperation?

such constraints were employed as
to: the person exercised in completely body:
usage... wouldn't feel like
a ******* hamster of a ******* ferris wheel
when push came to shove...
somehow everything physical became
lesser class: demeaning...
somehow we all turned into *******
fluorescent
      telepathic / telekinetic Chernobyll
monkey sorts...
and the fat "stigmata" is a what?
                  
  this world is gagging for something tragic...
this world is gagging for a world war III...
but... it probably will not...
"advise" itself to experience such a disatrous take
on prospect...
nuance in language can go **** itself...
application of misnomers for added fluidity can:
go **** itself...
you ever come across a choir...
and a great wind...
see a ******* shrink...

don't look at me for inspiration:
perhaps some jokes...
i've been more honest these past two minutes than
i ever was in the passing of a decade...

death the limbo of "sanity"...
esp. when someone memorable has taken off...
who am i left with? "perspectivelly accountable"?
grey-matter fiddle-through middle-man
*******... no?
i'm not sifting through that, murk?
perhaps i'm sieving... sifting... sieving...
sifting... sieving... get a dog! she says, mother, dear...
i tell her: it's legal in Belgium...
her father already cited his complaints...
i'm tired of the ******* optimism...
i'm tired of this "adventure" some cling to when
deciphering "life"...
an overrated statement of too many facts:
that's life...
it's not a ******* frank sinatra:
come as we are... would be: mea culpa...

troublesome sufferings of a tired brain...
too many pop ref. points worth of closure...
i bought a vinyl today...
i walked it down a market place
like it was a puppy...
in a rucksack...

that there's a hope... my mother is crying
this silent agony of truth...
i tell her: it's sensibly legal in the Benelux...
England is ****** by all accounts...
a dog will save me?
i'm becoming rigid... brick-esque...
tide-prone...
moon is the mother of my skies...
i might might what?
fall in love: to fall in love is to allow
oneself to be weak; to be... dependent on
someone: the concept of "other"... no?
recurrrency is pricing on how many times
that's... sensible to try out?
before it fails?

i fall asleep listening to horror movie music...
i'm best coupled to a ******* hyena than
i am to a woman...
to live under a false sense of hope
is a: welcome bypass to otherwisse living
under a truancy of truth...
as the life around me shrinks...
the abounding shadow of me grows...
and not as a patriarch...

oh ****... "i simply, somehow...
just so it happens... fowgot to... encapsulate this
offload whiff a wyme".

distance brought by greed
and a fatal misdirection
an alterior motive drops in time, likewise
we connect by lines
easily drowned out by the tone of her voice
decisions that she made
changes my lungs
changes the air
volatile air
what did you say?

my mistake, your waste
try and stop harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked lines
in chorus you could not ignore

a lip gloss defeat
but i'll never admit
that the way you move is so suspicious
the words you say are so delicious
i can't defeat all my vices
i'll always at least have one

my mistake, your waste
try to quit harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked love
in chorus you could not ignore

lost in my disguise
i start to draw from discard piles
just to guage reactions

since wishes prove me nothing
action is the only way
to keep my head above her deep, disturbing wake
follow for days
cold and like a fevered skin
i'll keep the others in
mattered fact, spoken words
and the patter of tiny feet will make together last
just say...

my mistake, your waste
try to quit harrassing fate
while connecting these two names
your mistake, my waste
were the breaths that i had lost
singing of your crooked love
in chorus you could not ignore

Yesss
Im a black sheep so i can diguise myself
Keep an AK 47 on the shelf
Dont ask me   Who i am?
Call me ****** i really dont
Give a ****!!
Action im built tough
Since i am public enemy one
The media will never get enough
Suckas aint nothing but a bluff
Sound the alarm
As the Dj gets rough give me some of that
Funkyy stuff
**** aint never hurt nobody
Guns leads to so many dead body
Killuminati
Is what i yell stop naw get the bail
And lets free
All my brothers incarcerated for free
Smooth.  As a criminal
My rhymes subliminal maximum minimal
Is the wage im in rage
Get the twelve guage
Lets do damage to the higher powers that be
I wasnt born a sucker
Im ready to die for free
In this world
Ya need fame just to get a little love for ya name
**** hip hop is where my heart is?
But its lost dont know where it is?
Killed by the jewish society gay mafias
Women and ill know they'll despise me
Truth is what i am
Urban radiooo doesnt even slam
Promote sloppy music to keep a rate on
I used a calling card
To dail in i tell them cut that ******* off or we'll break in
Entering to the station
play old school records rock the nation
I see you hesitation
Scared of a revolt took the emcees then jolt
Them out the way cuz they gay
Fashion fad lookin' peculiar
I still wear saggy jabos stocky medium afro
*******
Is the sound **** all these club sounds
No consciousness surround
The black community im all for unity
But how when the pushin' racism G ?
But ya know my topics will get tossed
Lost in the hour of the chaos
Damnnnn!!!!!
Cuz of the rebel i amm


Remained uh
Loyal to the game
Infamous is my name
Im after the fire
Its the return of the reign
Since Pac is King
Im the prince back to hit
Ya with some real ****
Hard to dodge when tryna
Put haters n critics n casket
Though a *******
I still made a change **** the fame
And all these nigguhs is speakin' the same
Riddle me this as i hit ya with some game
Aint got no shame
I was apart of the drug game *******
Filled my pockets mayne
Hangin' on differ corner slangin'
But it was the environment that got me bangin'
But i heard better blues when i see the news
Im seein my people in a fued
At war over each other
For nothing
All roughed up by the media for
Nothing
Then all of sudden
When a brother wants to regained consciousness
They label it ludicrous take my quotes as a diss
But i dismiss
All the ******* got to stay real to roots
Until the fat lady sangs remain
Loyal to the game



Though i was
Cursed as a *****
My focus was on chasin' figures
From ***** dreams
Too ******* in my abode  scene
Jewels & jacuzzi in the limousine
Big tv screens
Things aint what it seems
Somehow I thiught money
Would bring happiness
But it only attract serpents
Evil is the root to sorts of treachery
Gotta watch who's next to me ?
Feel me!
They say they have your back
But the first to attack
When ya turn ya back
Thats friends in this day in age
They say why you upset im growin' in a rage
All i know is dope hoes n a 12 guage
They ****** up my community
With the spiritual raid
Invested in homocide drug cartels
Suicide prostitution the stories never fail
And ah
If you plan on makin' future
Better believe they comin' to shoot ya
Eradicate our whole race
The nation steadily sayin' ******* to our face
Get out the **** pulpits n come to the streets
Thats where its real pack yo steel
So haters can feel
The ammunition of revenge
No pretend we never surrend
We straight up warriors
More than thugs
Now embrace the eternal flame
I dont care if i gotta for my peeps
Im vain but ill remain
Loyalllllll to the gammeeeeee

Pow!!!
Look up in the sky the Heavens
Pouring Out Hells Blessin'
We cursed and we stressin' guessin'

Who the enemies is but look around
All around us the demons lurking
Fools minds is twerking jerking

Can't *** with **** Cuz we so Wicked
Desperate for a meal ticket
We gotta keep our family feed
Look into the book life for my daily bread Prayers said but I feels like it's all dead
Since slavery left us in dread
Bunch of bloodshed
News media newspapers head

Line talkin about the worst Is yet to come Some
Get it some don't admit it ya *******
Most over did it
Playin' for.drug sells destined for jail
But can't get acquitted

Or No bail no love from the courts
Cuz they makin' profits off sales
Our ***** ain't catchin' on
Sprinkle ya past the break of dawn to the early morn
Peepin' watchin' for 65s creepin'
Mental seapin' from knowledge
That stabbed on my conscious
Sick of the silly nonsense I'm intense
Blunt sessions immense common sense

Is lackin' nigguh is slackin'
Now I'm all for my.peeps but not pro-blackin'
Cuz nigguhs quick to sell.u out for a buck
Then back.on the corner saying they wish
You wasn't stuck
In the system when they could have helped

But the hood slogans with
No snitchin'
Tryna hold down a hood they ain't even
Gettin' a commission
in your name learn the rules to the game
Nigguh the deadliest move in silence
Invoke violence

Without presence of being shown
Corporate America Owns
The hoods and we fall victim to there stupidity off stupidity
Ignorance self hatred insecurity as validity I.pity
These ******' critics hypocrites
NAACP suckin' white supremacy **** get off the *****
***** before I hit

the switch brain shocker
Shut down malfunction
Now society's in a rage get the twelve Guage
Cuz I refuse to be slave and I'll pave
A way even if I gotta die from.from.the words that I say

Take heed I know I was cursed from my seed Indeed
Deaths come for everyone
but I'll ****** that ***** with my shot gun

I ain't scared fool
As I sip on the henny hit the blunts slow
Meditate my minds circlin'
Playin' tricks who's that peepin' in my window
Pow!!!!!

You grind
   my yellow cactus
Like an asphalt pomegranite
You slime into my universe
  Like you are not of this planet
You guage my tumbling body

Many fireworks try to chameleon
   The colors bright
But you enter my daytime tea
Like you are of the nite
2 men ******* and you blame the doctor

By spoken word transmits you to lay
Under the gun of my evolution ladder
Sniding God for the interlude in which you play
Screaming geese beckon to your strange turning psychosis
I have all these ribbons and sellotape

I suppose there are many radios in Spain
I guess that my jive-box is a measurement of pain
Tourists chat and snap poloroids
Just a normal day.

Pow!!!
Look up in the sky the Heavens
Pouring Out Hells Blessin'
We cursed and we stressin' guessin'
Who the enemies is but look around
All around us the demons lurking
Fools minds is twerking jerking
Can't *** with **** Cuz we so Wicked
Desperate for a meal ticket
We gotta keep our family feed
Look into the book life for my daily bread Prayers said but I feels like it's all dead
Since slavery left us in dread
Bunch of bloodshed
News media newspapers head
Line talkin about the worst Is yet to come Some
Get it some don't admit it ya *******
Most over did it
Playin' for.drug sells destined for jail
But can't get acquitted
Or No bail no love from the courts
Cuz they makin' profits off sales
Our ***** ain't catchin' on
Sprinkle ya past the break of dawn to the early morn
Peepin' watchin' for 65s creepin'
Mental seapin' from knowledge
That stabbed on my conscious
Sick of the silly nonsense I'm intense
Blunt sessions immense common sense
Is lackin' nigguh is slackin'
Now I'm all for my.peeps but not pro-blackin'
Cuz nigguhs quick to sell.u out for a buck
Then back.on the corner saying they wish
You wasn't stuck
In the system when they could have helped
But the hood slogans with
No snitchin'
Tryna hold down a hood they ain't even
Gettin' a commission
in your name learn the rules to the game
Nigguh the deadliest move in silence
Invoke violence
Without presence of being shown
Corporate America Owns
The hoods and we fall victim to there stupidity off stupidity
Ignorance self hatred insecurity as validity
I.pity
These ******' critics hypocrites
NAACP suckin' white supremacy **** get off the *****
***** before I hit the switch brain shocker
Shut down malfunction
Now society's in a rage get the twelve Guage
Cuz I refuse to be slave and I'll pave
A way even if I gotta die from.from.the words that I say
Take heed I know I was cursed from my seed
Indeed
Deaths come for everyone but I'll ****** that ***** with my shot gun
I ain't scared fool
As I sip on the henny hit the blunts slow
Meditate my minds circlin'
Playin' tricks who's that peepin' in my window
Pow!!!!!

How am I supposed to know
If I'm not happy?
What's my guage, my understanding?
What is normal?
What is not?
I'm not really sure I know.

The tree's bows are burdened by the fruit.
Pulling itself over
With the sheer weight of abundance

Is this just stress?
An accumulation of life
The daily grind
Or does it go deeper?

coming up out that darkness
all ya see is marks
all over his body
sighs of his innocent
but ripsta was hell sent
w
from where all foul killaz went no repent
from me i be sinister minister
preachin to ya
******* mo getaway smoothso
pay attention to bones principle
its simple and plain puff  mary jane to ease my thoughts mayne
before i ****
i mastered the skill takin wills
im in it for the thrills
nawi be in it for the luv of money triple six follow me
movin **** cuz im forceful
like a twelve guage
erupt **** like a grenade serenade
the street with bullets in yo body
as the coroner sweeps
up the evidence
none found cuz ripsta be intelligent
dont ya knowmurder comes n mysterious hell bound til i touch the ground
screamin' ****** mo
wither it be a tech nine gat or four four
as long as see gore make war
even at peace
so ruthless even murdered my own niece
cold blood i be n fiendin for dead bodies like illuminati
come sacrifice me
and you'll see what i see
my mind be full of red puddles of blood make ya grudge
but dont test to quick
cuz you'll be seein the
eternal judge
Come again...mo ****** ****** ****** mooo

Disheveled and mutated. Ugly shell of what it used to be. Our government curated by the CEO Neo-Con warheads with nuclear weapon arms and drone strikes aimed at every other countries heart. Hawks of the most grotesque nature. Warhawks with bombs of freedom and democracy. The right to social justice and free choice are properties of the US. Yet those same words "Property of the US" line those missles, the only freedom they ring is freedom from this world. Free to dive into the afterlife.

Staunch support to policies of corrpution. Reeking of ****** and money. Dressed in red and green, piles of each, blood and money line their legacies. Facades played out in media like a family soap opera. Facsist facades play out in legislature, tyranny inducing consequences. Justice not served as they rally around the mottos of "Just us". As in just us rich and powerful get to pass laws. Just us white and privileged get walk away from cops without a 12 Guage bullet in the brain. As in just us media pundits know about politics.  In jusice they have no belief. Only selfish belief of "just us".

Oligarchic and xenophobic. Slandering the people's knowledge like we don't feel the ***** hand of power encasing us in its ****** grips. Convincing out of fear we are all each other's worst enemies due to color religion or Politcal theory. Propaganda created shackles out of freedom and enslaved us in our own good will.

The ***** roots of our skyscrapers poison the soul because what they rake in at the top is dollars made from death and destruction. From the creation of war refugees and third world farmer suicides they install suede in the penthouse. The money has created shackles out of freedom and enslaved us.

Feather & ink stunting Mount levi homage
Pressure seep breath down-under prom a colm-sink
Promise ****** weary clapse applause crash groom guage
Pressure weep mag-hindsight emotions chaff link
Panegyrize grotto seer like'n cinque
Birth of the star of the righteous calling
Death chant plead Slumber -lock- Key welm kept falling

Magnification and magic, majesty and jest, me?

My first thought on waking, or reaction acknowledging,
science, if any thing is sharp, it was made to become so.

Crystal vision, any reader in this medium has,
an attainment,
merit worn
by knowing
words hold
thoughts and thoughts occur in superstringy gnosisnot.

Over time, dust is drawn to the tangled web that we wove.
In visibility,
winds paint the Granite wall my bubble occupies,
melting the shallow snow,

enough for a California snowday. My mileau,
my conditioning reflexive zone,
bouncing a thought between reading minds morphing
wishes once thoughts,
aimed
as it were,
at hungry wolves, or troglodytes.

- My Grandfather, Caleb Boyett,
- has blessed me,
- no quest set before has not called
- on know how knots tie and solder mends
- learned from watching him, as a child.
- I was reared in a junk yard,
- with a bunch of happy dogs.

Stela, not
"Stella" from the common programing relative
to Hollywood, see
the sign.

Big-time, Robbie, big time, SHOW
bidness,
be kind.

I don't give a damnabouda greenback dollar,
spent it fast as I could,
or woulda, had I ever sold what must be sold,
to accrue money problems,
or secret stores to protect,
sense of will,
sense of pur- in advance guarding the niche
posed
under superpositioned words we all react on,

pinch of salt,
taken from the spiritual conception developed
as many children must have been set up,
to spill some salt,
so elders could guage,
measure
reaction to instruction, "toss a pinch of the problem
                over your left shoulder-
                to ward
off any malicious salt protectors mind cry.

Not a lie. In my realm, stories reign supreme,
and those who learn to tell them without lying
seldom prosper
as per standard class-ification projects,
historically called civil-ization.

-- so that's my que, 2023, snow melt negative space
patterns evoke… that word again,
several times today, 10:34
took pictures of the patterns in the snow
that look similar to some level of me,
to rock art in

Time and chance, perhaps I needed the provocation,
common senses, all agree, things occur with no ..... lost threads

Internet ties,
intellectual kin,
in the wildering edgewise meandering mind
we share
in time
we spend thinking thank you for reading my mind.

i admit it, what's to say
i relive it, without pain

bacckstreet lover on the side of the road

i got a bomb in my temple thats gonna explode
i got a 16 guage buried under my coat

i pray,
once upon a time, i could control myself
once upon a time, i could lose myself

indian summer and i hate the heat
i got my hand in my pocket so determinded and descrete

there she was with him on the side of the street
they think i have my eyes closed
but i'm looking at them the whole ******* time

i explode

once upon a time, i could control myself
once upon a time, i could lose myself

Over the hill of every hope,
to the village of the nothing.
To a road of quicking,
a path you dare to follow

Were you so crass
With little class .
Shallow shame, so fostering.

Of the will you not dismiss, the destiny of being.

That then to your reflection,
and chance of your disection.

All the gutteral with a hate of no regection.

Made by fault of euberis in youth and then to age.

All the hope of right or wrong
that you be worthy sage.

For all that venture inward
emerge so cleansed of rage.

With a scream so heavenly
and heavy heart to guage

But mine is very light
I'm of all restraint.
I build my walls of love,
and of nothing dare thee taint.

For you I love the most
the other in my skin.

I will ever foster this,
And drown you in my sin.

And so i say goodbye
And see you claw at me
I am of the sentry
That will never devil free.

Wanting to want
Things like before
Past makes perfect sense
Never going to be in the tense
Inability to guage
Present and future state
Colored vision prompting
Eyes looking backwards
In reverse in the present
Looking back not ahead
If time travel were a reality
Not the past but future we'd all  like to see

call me for the ransom
kidnapped and adaptive brightness
riding eyes wide
dragon fire inside
its ******* frightening
dying,, living in enhancement
entranced
dope in guage romance

ten guage the trigger dance
and i freudian slip and red my hands
my life a madness
in containment
chased no bravery here just blood
the microscopic homeglobins
slowly flowing down my plut
french for *****
mostly mushy
drenched in mud
and burned like sage
a ****** mystery like pages
with a pinch of salt (assaullt)
and violent rage

yes the theatre was good
who done it now we
know who done it
yet the culprit swore
us all the secrecy

it is the longest running
here
a mouse trap

hope all the kittens came well
thet you are over run with cuteness

i stayed away a while and we rode
the narrow guage as always there
and back again

as always

then up the lake fishing
saving imaginary folk
with a rope then bound
him up happily

while he remained that way
an hour or so and no one
blinked

we made reed boats and caught two tiddlers

we placed them back of course
we don’t eat meat nor fish
yet the ice melts

it is all a worry
which i will not clarify

let you feel it is just
ice



i am glad it was nothing serious
and that there will be funds for an engine



6.48 am
glad of my lot
wished better for others

Someone left a barrel of laughs
At my front door.
I was suspicious, of course,
Not knowing who sent them
Or where they were from.
So instead of opening it
I crouched down and put my ear next to it,
Listening - to guage what sort of hilarity might be contained within.
Guffaws might indicate cruelty.
A self satisfied chuckle might be ironic.
A mwah haha would surely indicate - well, I think that's pretty obvious.
Were they the laughs of a person
With nothing left to loose?
Or the laughs of a person
Who knows knows he can only win?
Were they the happy byproduct of joyous celebration?
Or the giggles of a child who feels anxious and embarrassed?
A few of each, perhaps,
All jumbled up together.

I looked up to see my neighbor
Standing next to me.
Seems It had been delivered to the wrong address.
He rolled the barrel over to his house where his family didn't waste a second before letting them all out.
It was total laugh-fest over there.

****, I could have used a good laugh.

For got about this thread, recent revelations
about how messed up my sense
of religion became
during my failed conditioning
to accept divine authority offered as self evidence,
without seeing a slight wink, truth makes thinkers think and thinking leads away
from lies used
to spiritually analogize authorized versions
of stories and lists
of property.
Who owns what by divine edict, do the math.

What is not easy, that is difficult,
what has many correct creases and folds, that
may become life
at the level
of things and thought,
spirit and truth,
imaterial pre real
no two minds in one, and not the other,
we must breed
to the best
in the matching
of wits,

this is the titans versus the Olympians alover again,
a
lover
of what may be, let us imagine, truth, essential,
as an assisting intelligence fed all we knew
in 2022,

and allowed
to guess what certain philosophies might
guage the worth
of being me, the author and finisher
of these lines,
in the future
from ever before,
promethean and epimethean means
of making time sensible
in simple but not too simple,
in between extremes
of fine ness,
from wall solid,
to breeze fluid fitting shear joy
on mere wonder, if one were
to bet one's life,
on a dive
into the unknown, known
to have swallowed
entire cosmogonies leaving mere scratches, hoping

to pass advantage
to the meek, as Moses, hoping,
from Pisgah, hoping
to see our day, and marveling… how easy being is.