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Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
i should be handling a champagne flute by now,
i don't know, maybe it's the laughter
that's curbing me from doing so... oh the fizzling
of my shizzle: or whatever's the trend in Campton.

now i'm watching videos on the pros and cons
and i'm thinking: it's really out of my hands -
i can do what Pontius Pilate did, back when
everything political required things to be hygiene prone
- and when there were literate fishermen who
miraculously broke from physical toils
       and wrote anti-Pharisee booklets.
forget Socrates defiling the youth:
it's me and a few old men -
will i become martyred because of it,
am i deluded with an invasion of
Shoreditch coolio across the depth and breadth
of London: who cares?!
       i like a good film, and this one is
always going to be good -
it only takes one word (well, two): the queen;
mainly the logic stuck true to the end
result: it would have been too good to be true...
take that logic and make it into a motto -
        wholeheartedly honestly,
      i have not an inch of my own wet *****
dipped into your ear: that's what
being independent means -
it also means that Copernicus ruined
   all things nautical, sunrise, sunset,
                  and thank **** the earth is
3D, now the problem, what shape is the universe?
   as it goes we're in a fudge swamp -
we aren't going anywhere, we think we are,
but people forgot to twin thought and doubt together,
   instead we have thinking and denial twinned,
which means: no matter how many facts are
spewed and later picked up as golden nuggets
we're not going anywhere.
       that's the beauty of a niche armchair,
      you get to bypass the comforts of crowd and airing concerns -
i'd never miss those emotional reactions
of people slyly: for the world!
    i love how they think that spying is masquerading
and not stating the obvious: which it usually is,
spying is stating that: the opposite has a tradition
built upon using sharpened knives:
                    me and my blunt knives:
i'm tearing into the meat like a vulcher -
what the hell can you do?
   sell the truth for 30 quid, buy it back for 20.
  that's a Homeric certainty -
    no, not the jokey Springfield variety:
the serious Grecian 2000 year old (if not more)
one - and i already asked:
what are you here for?
  me? i'm into writing a 2000 year old chapter
ranging from monkey, neanderthal and man -
     given the obvious disparities
and image issues and ****** favours considering
the pale anorexic Parisian modelling skeletors.
     you know what i found distinct in that story:
Slavs among the Germanic tribalism?
i concentrated on the eyes, rather than admit
a less pronounced *occipital bone
: yeah,
that's almost a tail in evolutionary sprechen.
       all thanks to a girl in school who noted
that "defect".
     i just looked at the eyes and found they were
more ****, and subsequently quasi-Mongolian
and less Germanic fish-eyed fixative of ogling
out as if about to be gouged out, or simply
popping out with a reference to helium.
    once again: a stick has two ends.
         it's the historiological (why the iota in that
i'll never know) demand:
the pendulum simply said: too good to be true -
and it was:
  i'll go one better, better than black and female?
how about native?
   now that would be a game-changer -
      anything less than a native american is
as about as revolutionary or a status quo disciple
or a hamburger for breakfast:
hence the reason why sarcasm and apathy mingle
        and look down at the doormat:
  oh right, only wiping my shoes does it? hell,
i'll wipe my shoes: come in and take a ****.
     thus the misrepresentation of writing on
pixel-paper (or what's called:
       drunk, but still in want of having a chance to
revise, because we're all sloppy when
      staging what the original transgression was);
   i never write with a want to say the things i write,
i just think the misrepresentation comes
when i treat the internet as a punching-bag to think
things through: a voyeuristic-reversal,
        as such a great medium to think things out:
the new ****.
   nonetheless, it's hard not to laugh within
the framework of defending the freedom to sprechen
and leave the defence of the freedom to denken
  within a socialism that never manufactures
    anything: apart from protest marches -
the F. Gumps amid broken vocal chords.
                  you get suspicious about deaf people
hearing more than those able...
                                 to hear a crackpot mantra
and subsequently diffuse it.
                     i wish we lived in world summarised
by the words: all eyes on Mongolia...
            but that's what happens when you popularise
**** and industrialise it:
    a. China and India beat you in terms of industrialising
             it (over a billion buggers by my count, each!)
and b. it's a litmus test of youngsters in the future
              suffering from depression -
now that's really obscure - i don't really have a b.
     point to make... pornographic industrialisation
got me...            come to think of it:
if america didn't industrialise *** i'd be in a transgender
clinic trying to figure out whether i had
    any ego in my phallus - completely bewildered
whether i should accept my ******* as if a dog
accepting its canine extension...
        given women these days
and the fact that i had to pay for the pleasure tells me
a lot...
            i either pay for it and play the genteel role
or i go mad from ****** frustration and ****:
at least we're talking a contract,
like that bubbly Puerto Rican woman in Amsterdam:
                                         **** it... Freud!
so we solved the whole "earth is not flat" debate,
           even though we still require the n.e.w.s.
to go about our daily business... tragic: we now have
to encapsulate the universe as having a shape -
  milestones have been conquered,
  from a 2D earth into a 3D earth
      we now have an infinitely 1D universe -
                because it couldn't have been: a box
within a box, within a box: without an actual box,
or as the people said: hence we having the sport of boxing /
dentistry.
            the Russians put a man and a dog into
space: fair enough...
      we go a step further and end all fairytales
  and turn our children into ambitious astronauts
breakdancing on the moon -
                              then comes Mars...
if we're going with that sort of escapist route then we're done:
   these traditional capitalistic endeavours for
mere competition have turned into a variation of
simple escapism - as i was taught in a catholic school -
imagine yourself in a world, then leaving it -
always imagining the earth from afar, from the moon, say;
all that really was said was the Taoist motto
about not engaging with the world on terms of
rounding up, rabble talking and ******* whatever needed
******* (pervert, i know the slang in the engagement
     of the cultish excesses of skin; rough ***?).
   but that's what it is: escapism -
                         as they said: a message from former
communist countries -
                           a sprouting vogue in western
           societies: with their beards, and chequered shirts,
social conforming hippies know as hipsters:
i don a beard because it's cold around here:
plus i look less of a fat person -
alcohol fat ain't cutie pie fat: it's called being bloated.
       only among an obese population would you
get anorexia - again: historiological logic (the pendulum,
or the Newtonian impression) -
         once Newton was told he was less than accurate
people decided everything was relative:
the Greeks abhorred moral relativism -
   it's not that god died - cause & effect died
in what's modern, and reliably crescendo.          
sure, humanity will go on in any other argumentative suite,
      it's the one thing humanity can't be, i.e.: undermined.
*** is (after all), an existential variant of ******* -
you'd be daft to think that it was or could / would be
  otherwise.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
it happens rarely, but nonetheless it does:
an alcoholic walks out from his cave,
he walk the sticky wet cement from the onslaught
of rain, laughs-out-loud at the brew
of conjurings in his mind,
enters the supermarket, buys him ***
& pepsi, asks the cashier for some pen & recipe
paper,
scribbles something down -
   and then returns to his abode, less an alcoholic,
and more: a tornado.

what was scribbled down?
  a *******, rather than a thought -
psychology gets away with much
abuse of the ego,
    there's much to be said as to why
"ego-tripping" is underway -
the super-ego is abusive per se -
giving its origins in procrastinating
parents, that dreaded looming shadow -
and the id? does it expand into idea?
i thought not, no, it doesn't:
the id is by no means a worthwhile
segment of the psychological trinity,
it's not an unconscious ego "formality",
it quite simply is: a psychiatric form
of a scalpel: the probing - *it
, the probing
vector that - hardly something
worth keeping:
that "benevolent" honing in on /
probing aspect of the "ill mind":
and the no-too-destructive doctor...
but what i wanted to find was a unit,
something specific...
  something that turns an alcoholic
into a tornado, when walking back from
a supermarket...
              a unit? yes! a unit of thought!
to craft a mathematical orientation that cuts
and measures "thinking"...
  i could only come up with the Φ-Θ
complex
...
              since id becomes idea, and sometimes
the idea does not last, i wanted
to find the abstract...
  please mention the key & door analogy,
please... so much for omicron and zero;
but it's much more than that,
honestly, it's about heliocentric historiology
and geocentric historiology:
and history per se.
  when did one history end,
and the other history begin?
does it begin with the fail-safe idea of
the anti-christ, that precipitated into anti-matter?
or was it october 4, 1957, with sputnik 1?
or was it april 12, 1961, with yuri gagarin
in vostok 1? or was it that the ancient
maxim ringed true with laika beating
  albert?
this anglophone existentialism of puritanical
and exclusive darwinism is a bit like
shoving by ******* into a monkey wrench
and shouting: sneeze! (rather than ease up
on the squeeze).
   anglophone existentialism has become
nothing any intellectual should attempt
from the european continent,
believe me, i've been watching it for some
years... the anglophones have reinvented
existentialism by blackmailing the 20th
century movement, given the maxim:
you have to! whether in bed or in haystack!
you know what? *******!
you stop blackmailing my need to reproduce,
one thing's for sure:
darwinism & existentialism: don't *******
mingle, my dearest suga-pups (shoo-gah
paps, for posterity)!
     and we're talking jackie nicky joker's
sunset boulevard makeover.
hold on, hold on, when did heliocentric history
begin? surely you can stress the theorists
with copernicus or galileo...
  so the heliocentric history began in
the 20th century, mid-way...
and? didn't humanity simply enforce
geocentrism with satellites?
                        i still feel more orientated
around a geocentric historical realism,
than these mundane sci-fi heliocentric
ambitions that: mind the quake:
seem posthumous realism in...
              about 20 generations later...
i never understood why everyone who
"believed" in a flat earth was stupid...
well... "stupid" enough to be able to read
a map, and not rely on a g.p.s. *****...
    like i said: you navigated a car from england
to a remote part of poland, passing
the ****-hole near dortmund in germany?
   that's a ******* blast...
try navigating a car through that ****-show
of ******'s **** of the autobahn...
              but sure, if imagining an orab
from outer space helps: go for it!
i'm a man, a flat earth is practical!
   i get from a to b, i don't suddenly launch
a ****'s worth of monkey goo into outer
space asking for a meteor shower in return!
and that has to be said:
did satellites enforce heliocentrism,
or did we regress back to geocentrism?
   ha ha... what, a, funny, question...
        obviously the latter forest!
dip *****, plonkers, gits and gumps...
the whole lot of them!
       heliocentric history is infantile!
imagine: was that theory conjured up on
three-dimensional paper,
   or was that the best we could come up
with: in terms of abstracting the imaginative
sphere, i.e. on a two dimensional canvas?
it's not like copernicus conjured up
the heliocentric theory, while scribbling
on a statue, or making break-through
graffiti on a building...
   so? is it such a bad idea to interact between
the two perspectives?
                it's what i always asked for:
the humanities replying to scientific relativism,
i.e. perspectivism!
   a dog is man's best friend,
   while a monkey is man's worst enemy:
hence laika beat albert to claim
  the heavens above the allure of azure,
looking down, and licking its genitals...
my my, heliocentrism began with a dog
licking its genitals... what a mighty event!
and it's not even a century old...
seriously, don't people think that
heliocentric history making is a bit
of a loser's game?
      history is, and will remain,
for the most part, a geocentric affair,
even if star trek advancements come along;
i simply lifted the heliocentric curtain:
since, for most part, history
partakes in geocentrism,
    and heliocentrism as "history" is best
summarised by the news talking heads,
always coming last,
        along with cute, puppy stories,
or that panda that gave birth in some zoo
in china.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
I suppose, all that has been said, is said to have been contained
in the canon… what I means to say, I mean
everybody
knows
its eber-tongue
hen en-I,
Enkidu, where are you?

Dusty trails, speak well of water on this way.
The deer and the antelope drink every day.
In the time
I was alive, many lies fought for my attention.

I knew more than one thing about every thing,
I thought I could be of best use
as a sharer.
teller of told tales, singer
of the songs in the air, and then
there
was radio,
and I was a child,
listening… with many more of my sort than anticipated
hearing white noise laced with wishes once
made bound to regulated times and steps
- odd boom boom doom boom
-on and on as tellers call all ye told old tales come in
free
right way to keep time to come
become time to go be,
- odd boom boom doom boom - odd boom boom doom boom
-on and on as dancers call all ye  ol'doe-see-doe
- edge of ever on a tiny spider's kite, we are the light
weyekin, we guide you, when you listen,
this is the way
walk ye, init, set
drop. Settle, solid, si,
walk the canyon, our grandfather, on my mother line,
built, and as he built, he
J.C.Boyett, met a man, willing to use a picked up magic
trick to make a trail to the bottom,
for to make somebody rich
prospectin' for batshit,
yep, nitrates, as in
nitro-glycering, stabilized with tarry pine saw dust
twist
tight, right, in a Mason Jar, metaphorically speaking,
if we agree to make this easy,
we can move the invisible crystal mountain. AI gotcha.
thinking may
be a giant radio, making us think
reality has this.
This and other resting places, landmarks, history set
for me, I was only there, one of the other Gumps,
who lived to rear unbroken children,
free from financial dread,
at the common level labor class,
endentured and polygripped

we can bite off more than most can swallow,

as collected from bits and pieces of literature,
literal retelling of tales told to teach
a child choice,

choose the good and hate, wait, hate

ta, beel gotta be paid,
the attention, usual tip to jump start
an actual engine
https://biblehub.com/hebrew/2870.htm

Definition: "good for nothing", an Aramean (Syrian)

who says, idunno, but AI may, say may is my word,
may obeys me, as if I may know any thing
to any depth. And never interpret the vision as reason
for war.

Truth to you be, flush the lies you know now, you hold,
to hold others to the task of paying attention,

for nothing, save the use of knowing how to
read, when you wish to know
the meaning of a thing, any known, on any level of life's
pearling swirl of pushing and pulling and playing

no winning innings or taking bats,
or running laps, prepped to punish any who displedge
alliegiance to the story as we hold it
now
in our military mind. Semper fi, and they say Boo, Jah
these days, having failed to feel the loss

the faith of our mother's, born up under,
until the time I was alive, simultaneously
with more sublingual mortal minds hearing
Good Night Irene, from those ***** ******
hill billy sangers, boy, howdy
we sang, dang me

re boots
made for walkin'
down hill side, shale,
takin' to a realm of reasons to sense,
not see, but know, a breach

in the barriers we can construct in stories,
now, we got cg, we see all the drama
an instants worth of attention can attach
an insult
- that takes a thousand generations to hit
in a Bible story, an old novel, core cast
architypes pro-fess phet

bet is equal to Prophesyorsci
or greater than con-fess? Guesses are bets.

Set. In a white room,
with black curtains, as seen on tv, after
where ever is breached

and each signal passing skin is in harmony
with each interdigitating arachnoid fiber
cocooning my brain and spine,
Arachoid mater, spider mother, mo'fo, gnoso
gnoshit *** passt the final antennae array to activate

the tree of science has far deeper,
primal laughs

than any mind made up to provoke umph,
umph, umph
as a song, so some day we may sing along
an umph umph song

remembering a certain time, when certain songs
was always secret ethos exoto notta chance

they dance in hell, but in the visions,
always they be dancin'
in the dark
we don't seeum, see, the spirits, are all that
survives, soul
is locked in history whoever tells it same longest
lives, who ever forgets
is helpless. without the filter, pro-vided, and marked
mater
as a brand. the Wombed version had the mods to insulate
the lizard's gift of quick
final
once, held, no flow go no will to be
wrong,
right, we needed to add the topgraphmap thingy

polymerical mira distinct walls with nanomeros singing
or dancing
laughing, yes, yessing yes, is what that is

children laughing, on a cold and dreary day.
What good does it do to say nothing I mean? Who really owns the internet...
Robin Carretti May 2018
_Going back
and forth >>
The dark
pool jaw shark
Darth
_
(War)teared

Her drink feared
The moon split
Two people

Crook/Brook-Streams

Spilled water-soul
words
the Grecian river
Thorn Rose
birds

Will I return?

Devil dug
Deep- thought
Millionaire swamps
2B streamed
Suddenly

Forestal sweetness
FLipping homes
Hopscotch jump
Flipper Gumps
Mister brook the 
 measles
Water spots
How her foot met
Sunny-side
Eggbeaters
Morning 2 B Sure?
Turning-star
Cornered-shore
A sure pleaser
Cheater's foot
The river of
no return
(Monroe)


She is so perpetual
returning
in his
fantasy
everything

Misery
loves cooks
Baked tan
brooks
company

Poetical downright
mystical rivers
Joan of Ark

All bricks to blow her
home down dark
He's the Adonis
Superlative
most bodeful

The bridge over
***** war of
her laundry
In Cahoots,
Tired torrential rain
Tranquil water
Streaming air

Glorious shape
Her brook

But he is
never by
her shore
Not even once
to stare or look
Water Wands
of faires

So many
***** men
Drinking the
Holiest
water
Mrs, clean
Cult life
Stepford Wifes

Her cheeks like petals
Estee Lauder eyes of
Blue velvet
Lady Brook the banks
of the channel;

No contamination
water
Channeling
Like finest truffles
By the water riffle

So Shallow
Abdominal water
Hurricane shakey
Speaking
words
of wisdom wishing well

Streams overloved
Still, Diana Wales
running reliving
Lucky charms
they're married

Orange segments
Water the juiciest
Be calm
Nick the Knickpoints

Mister and Mrs. beds
The high tide
of turbulence

Poems are
all a stream
Our oasis
Deer Creek
came to
Love her more
than he
could ever seek
The brook of many streams I invite you to my world how the water of love works just relax drink more water you will see how your life will be ten times in order
Gareth Jun 2017
I met that Bo on the way to Bangor Last Spring
He was a man blown outta glass
Just released from the Big House
Most said that he was a Bindlestiff
But there aint no truth In that

He looked at me and called me an Angelina
Just another inexperienced kid
Who wanted to hit the rail and travel
He sat me down by the  fire and told me about
Bad roads and accommodation cars
and how to flip and evade the Bulls
also how to spot the easy marks

Bindlestiks and California Blankets
We sat eating bullets and gumps
Smoking snipes into the night.
With the moon as our cover
Safe in the Jungle
No buzzards around that night

The following day we would be padding the hoof along the main drag
Looking for a train to grab on the fly
and see were destiny would  take us
* Road kid – A young hobo who apprentices himself to an older hobo in order to learn the ways of the road
Robin Carretti Jun 2018
The game Wii or We_
and never wear me out
You're the roundabout
All He  etc, etc,
It's now or never
She?
No-one ever loved you
As long as me
So SGT. Pepper lonely
We never were
?
Hearts eating the club
sandwich

Ringo the drummer
We were never the
noses those yenta's
The fan- open-switch
We could never be his
Manwich go -fetch

Like the Walrus-wish
Our sign was never
The tear-jerker like
Taurus a light match
Matador bull

The ******* Barrel South
witch, this world is a glitch
The dark sunnyside turf
Boris Karloff
I see the moon arising
Wolfe, not Bruce Lee

The Madmen Mr.Softee
For sale
Love notes in San Diego
The campfire with
Eggnog Amazon Congo
We never enjoyed
Eggo well red-breasted
( Robin) took the eggrolls
left her boys sesame seeds
In their hoods

So many milestones
The ringtones new cellphones
((Hello))zip the lip Zorro
Cup of Joes Muffler sounds
of Moes

Beef gravy Sandwiches
Curly
- top fries
Oh! Yes Arby's going
beyond a dollar Uber car
Unique breeds of dogs

Became a horse of Oz
The Wiz of frisbees
We never got to really see
What we never were

Not behaving love
attachments
Star Wars, No discount on
Starbucks
After Christmas past
coffee ghost the blind host

Forest Gumps Ba Ba shrimp
If this was twenty years ago
I would never see the
mobile phone of Trumps

Like Space Alein ET
Taking the city train
You got taken
From a B.L.T
yummy
***

You're with your wife
That's life she wants all 
Your cards etc
The Cheese Gigilo
The wine's computer
mouse
The spouse of the day
websites I smell a rat

How I felt so grieved
Even if I was getting
money how long
I mourned
Your next door
neighbor
he borrowed money
He said he will give
it back
He will never give
it back
All you could do is
smile back
Her's, Purs, furs, bars
E-bay other peoples identity
Selling your books with
their names
Refurbished cars
His health drinks
We never saw it coming
to his death the last
strawwhat health

Gym with him wealth etc
Pix, Canadian cups
Venus, burn those
Divas leave me
The expensive plastic Visa
The Candy Man Miss barb-wire
barbecue hamburgers hotdog
Eating animals like cannibals

The soul man and he's never eating
The Slim man
__
The piano when you're a
stranger some enchanted
evening Uptown Girl
Just put your key in
her car and leave her
Go-flirt
Flag down someone else's
dirt
Zigzags or Jag-Jaguar
Billy Joel tiger fuel
Walk like a man
and women talk
To be stalked
Your  eyes up
Meals on wheels
Candy canes Black/Blue canes
Who wants to be a senior

These discounts are S--T!!
But the senior prom
Were are you from?

Sick-land  meet
Disneyland
Another round
Robin drinkers
Heres to the world
we never were
Go out and celebrate
We never realize
It's never too late
The comical rundown on we never everything is classified with never but please its fun time things will get better
Nostalgic Nov 2018
Did you see it?
No you didn’t...
Your blink caused you to miss an entire existence
Now your perspective remains
Unchanged
Stagnant
Remains still
A lake
You thought it was peaceful
But it’s unhindered
It doesn’t grow
Stretches not
Selfish are you
That refuses a pursuit to truth
Now turmoil bleeds
Unseeded Apollo of the assassins creed  
Rocky benches where of the Forrest Gumps, between the Forestry dump

Are you better now?
Does the air claim refuge in your breathe
Your lungs together build an X-marked chest
Stand straight don’t disrespect me
Don’t let the apple choke your throat Adam
You blamed Eve for feeling indifferent yet you stand with a snake entangled around your spinal matrix
Incarnation is basic
I played capitalistic monopoly with a previous life’s manifested chess piece

Do you dare to dream.
Expressive aggression.
While figuratively (yet electronically) rifling thru bajillion documents, I came across one written four plus years ago and slightly modified today January ninth two thousand and twenty one at approximately 9:42 PM, when Hillary Clinton Democratic contestant chose Tim Kaine of Virginia as her running mate and former forty second first lady got thoroughly thrashed during debates with he who must NOT be named.

Little did yours truly (me) intimate what horrific state of affairs the forty fifth president would wreak (his latest gig desecrating sacred government enclaves housed within Capitol Hill), although keen political prognosticators foresaw calamity plain as day. If only said metaphorical crystal ball gazers ominous premonition heeded and/or brave soul(s) with chutzpah (think yours truly) raised a ruckus to oust the newly anointed commander in chief.

Hindsight always 20/20!

Egg gads, I ham aghast,
(and turning green with disgust)
at increasing popularity
witnessed by Donald Trump,
hence aye aerate thoughts,
how *** a nine his banal, demoniacal,
egomaniacal, fanatical, guttural, and hurtful
culling frightening insight, where
portentous Portuguese Man 'o War debacle
doth crowdsource, Flickr, Snapchat,
Twitter and indeed long foster
my plenti full overactive imagination

to induce writhing expressions of fearfulness
proportionate burst of haughtiness)
while he doth stump
would animate mine rear
i.e. rather noxious flatulence
expelled from outward doppelganger of ****
pull stilts skin cuz this chap haint Noah fan,
but wood vouchsafe
tub be a Jimmy Neutron
n Spongebob Squarepants
Ark n saw wing enemy against
da dull don dat does pumps

swaggering bravado with fist swelling ego
analogous to his body infected
with severe case of mumps
that brazen denizen hurling
and spewing volcanic fiery spittle
with incense against others –
to him mere lumps
of protoplasm heckled as inferior to himself
boasts as proof of favoritism,

that enervating, fawning,
gabbling feverish arrogant mania for him jumps
higher than expected,
while he commits faux paws which bumps
his ratings higher, he gleefully endorses
pandemonium toward gloating gumps
shun from the uproarious querulous
and populous madding crowd
regarding return of native son.

Throughout launch of his campaign,
banally, devilishly, and fiendishly
character assassinating those opposed to his views -
inducing me to harrumph and dump faith
in humanity, wondering what ruse
smart democratic pol mongers can conjure up

while pacing in soft shoes
woeful sentiments sans his attempt did render
competitors to drop out in ones n twos
whom he purportedly considers apostates,
and heathens cons heed Make America Great use
all manner of bullying
(determination whose occipital pupils

coalescing into searing
grape nut size wrath poisonous daggers)
forcibly silencing any jeers
when necessary plagiarizing neo **** playbook -
with trophy wife eliciting "who cares"
attitude closing in on pinteresting
for United States chess board foursquare,
which deliberate intent
to foment n wrought prostrate -
music to those hoteliers billion dollar ears

sans defeated apprenticing contestants
hearing sobbing tears
with vitriolic violent bilious
inducing jabs of his will full brittle spears
reputations of personalities
(men and women politicians
his especial flavor of scathing,
scandalous, scabrous sordidness

spewed squeamishly to grab
by the figurative crotch
(ala Michael Jackson)
the hello kitty 2016 presidential election),
whether liberal, conservative,
heterosexual or queers
thus tis find this muddling middle-aged mwm
abject psychic fractal shears.

The following poetic addendum composed way buff fore this (in my mind) atrocious, cretaceous, enormous, ferocious, garrulous, hellacious, indecorous, malicious nemesis, pernicious, querulous, rapacious, specious, tedious, unrighteous, vicious, dangerous demon must BE STOPPED IN HIS TRACKS ASAP!

DONALD TRUMP – RE: DUCKS --
this portion dashed off
(while driving an open white hearse slay
so many months back before sale him
slotted the most coveted
Casino biggest win -
before the political imbroglio
much more upsetting than today

Axe the old don
A trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
With the ha airbrushed pompous ****
so the Macy jackal hound doth run
After public outcry yelps
for his hide and proletarian discord won.

Donald Duck Trump ™!$ - a pompous ***
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
with soundcloud of broken glass
inciting banal deathly
hallowed expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
inducing said personality

to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults
from incriminating verbal pass
so…ex post facto
viz mine NO VOTE from me
thus this digital screed to disallow him
to accept the oath of office,
cuz he will hurrahs
from such a snooty arrogant
simian with sass.

I van a try to describe while sitting on me ****
How he oh bomb in lee rages with gnashing teeth
while back a slump
blasting Democratic nomination as a sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitomy of crass bloviation,
a malignant lump
whose rants sans presidential outcome
a sham rocking red bull
in a China shop with his millions beds this,

that and another woman to ******* jump
disseminating gene pool –
Obama null lee birthing
more quackers and additionally doth ****
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape
erecting taj mahal ******* symbol
where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash

for his (hmm... mew zing) hello kitty,
as if that cachet to grind and bump
lambasting with that maniacal leering pout
while hair *** runs rampant with red bulls
in a china shop atop his bulbous aerosol
sprayed heady measly shaped
ulterior motive aimed his sights
to become pastor of muppets
dis eased cranial hologram
of a cretaceous, facetious and insidious mump.

By: Baron Von Ivan Mal N. Ya.

— The End —