The billionaires tend to their garden
at the expense of the forest,
whilst landlocked towns
invest in pine trees and surfboards
to sell a notion of escape
against the cell of a poorer tomorrow.

Religion lost its claim to G-d
once the churches locked their doors.
The homeless started a choir
on the park bench by the chapel
once they grew tired of food;
fame now the nutrition of the masses.

The baby boomers are a dying breed
set for containment and greed
and rapacious war;
the dreadful threat of a next door neighbour-
their extinction amongst
a millennial wantonness.

Heiresses brush their hair in vanity,
as does the poet to his white-noise
crowd of lunatics and alcoholics.
He crushes diazepam into his whiskey sour,
then lifts a shaking hand

to find the power he is preaching against.

after seeing a dutch boy spit in a polish girl's face because of a friendly conversation, i don't need some Irish telling me what to say apart from I.R.A. in the skip of the other recyclables.*

as books go, we can speak all we want on the
colour of defeat -
you can make a Lenin-firecracker from any man,
any man a killer -
the revival of the Holy Roman Empire simply
moved slightly to the east - it already looks like that -
if the French far right think the exit of Britain
was a favourable scenario, well, it doesn't have
the Algerian philosopher Camus to care -
former colonial nations undermined the European
project - too much suntan from India and the
Caribbean - Germany wasn't a colonial nation,
Italy was a joke in Ethiopia - a joke that morphed
into reggae - it was never going to be stable,
times changed, the Hungarians forgot the Austrians,
if they thought a British exit was the broker piece
they found the economic stronghold
in Frankfurt a week later - past colonialists
an equilateral respect for each European neighbour -
apart from the English channel the English chose -
i admire Voltaire's theism, but not his liking
for the sausage and oily stigma -
accept post-colonial subjects, discriminate against
fellow Europeans - join the "shoot a ******" saga
of America - former colonial nations destroyed
the European Union dreams, they found no *******
in the Baltic region, to their grievance...
what a loss! no gold! only flint and salt mines!
and the question still hangs about:
who will pick the strawberries in July in England?
the benefit billionaires? the wet shave heiresses?
what about the Brazilian bikini wax?
get more Irish in? will Ms. Burqa of Sudan
take out an umbrella and roll up her sleeves to pick 'um?
is Hajj tourism adequate to see a stampede outside
of Pamplona? i mean, it's a revision of the
British "go home" Empire... you wonder how many
times the pumpernickel fairy heard that one -
and there was the gingerbread man breaking a leg
to claim benefits as a dyslexic diabetic saying: i can't go on...
i can't go on... make this slice of cake a discus throw
into itemising a respectable calorie intake, 'cos i think
i sat on a guitar that was debited into a loan -
a man ended up paying for a broken guitar without
a Bon Jovi singalong - oi oi uncle Ben's quinoa salmon
healthy food in the hood and McHappy bottom's-up -
colonial nations and identifiers as such made the European
project a one of bereavement - unnaturally racist,
unnaturally with white v. white and the incubator of
their former whips turned into whipping of tongues -
the Jews have left Poland, they have left Europe -
time for the old alliances to be constructed -
and i wonder, what internal alliance will be made
from former colonial masters and former colonial slaves -
if the "placebo" to be ingested is current America... well,
not much to go around.

Your t.v. is the enemy, selling lies, ***, and material nonsense.
A box of greed, ***, and violence in the home of every man, woman, Silence! I'm trying to watch this!
One is never enough, not for us, more, more, more, we want more says the little girl selling cell phones.
So with our hard earned pay, we go bankrupt, buying all this worthless, mind numbing, junk.
Even in poverty, a child goes hungry as the mother updates her facebook with a link to her ***** bounty.
The rich man with the perfect life, wife, kids, dogs, and a picket fence, aborts born children, whatever it takes to get rich.
Seems success in this country of billionaire heiresses is simply *** tapes on the internet.
There was a time, we as a nation were to be proud, hold ourselves to higher standards.
In this evil day, I can only pray, have mercy on this country, and a debt it will never repay.

You have to let it go
Lose control
Unthink
Penetrate
Lockness gone

The bizzare twist
Ironic plots
Synchronisations sake
Alive

Feel fuel burning
From fingertips light
Inhaling conscience
Desires

Center points
Plotting x and z
On scalic demeans

Concentrate
On the higher
Things

Ploring through
Time zonic tonic
Discussion closed

Rebirth
Reaknowledge
Stories told

Simple and divine
Asking heiresses
Jabbing hearts

Reliquient unheard of
Fortunes found
For hours on end

She will
Be mine

The idea of Friendship Day originated
in the United States in 1919,
proposed by Joyce Hall,
the founder of Hallmark cards.

It gained official recognition
when the U.S. Congress
proclaimed the first Sunday
of August as National Friendship Day in 1935.

Unlike this papa akin
to being racked, raided,
and raked with hot coals
during his adolescence devoid of
a social network and academic goals
if possible to magnify
psyche, one would see
mostly a torn (Turin) shred of holes.

Thy youngest (of deux) daughters
afflicted with developmental delay
did not overtly agitate
as much as myself, asper being
emotionally isolated, a miserable fate,
she participated with
supportive services how grate
full (this once psychologically dead papa),
progeny of his did not experience
chronic severe hate
Shana (Punim) blessed by fate

while a Lower Merion
High School student did great
fully experienced positive
munificent interpersonal bounty,
she didst illustrate
with smiles all around her countenance,
which sophomore socialization better late
than never, which friendlessness
(that didst plague this papa),
thee progeny didst obviate
thus, this poem

(to no one in particular),
expresses how I appreciate
the plethora of supportive
services, to ameliorate
bugaboo sans inferiority complex,
(ran rampant within self)
where mine imaginary
pals did commiserate
nevertheless, aye envy thine
woefully begotten Harris heiresses,
whose self esteem positively

of mine bolstered,
when as little girls
their needs and wants gave me purpose
ensure ring a confidential boost,
and now doth demonstrate
how remedial, and extracurricular activities
during and after class respectively,
combatted cognitive delay,
warding off bullies,
who did grate, humiliate
and interrogate, this middle aged
(he's a jolly good) fellow,

Johnny come late
lee to the "NON FAKE"
thrown into game of life
changing strengthened soul asylum
primary, secondary, and tertiary grades
where whipsawed,
pejoratively emasculated, jackknifed,
oppressed, traumatized, and yoked  
hoary golem, unstintingly
bruiting, browbeating
and bamboozling gremlins
wrought zealous destruction.

heirs and heiresses
erring their cautions
blood thrusting through veins in hurried vigor and vitality
floating in fine wines and melodies so effortlessly poured
knowing not a possibility of drowning.

Clenching oxblood between teeth,
What little remains dripping down lips
creeping down my chin and
sinking into the depths of velveteen fibers caressing my neck.

Tighter
but loose enough to breathe.
Damper
but dry enough to stay afloat.

Flaming chiffon carnation
unraveling into a dance of ruffles.

Recluse of intrusive
thoughts beyond attainment.

No fife nor drum
conjure evidence concurring victory.
No strife to be named nor likened
to familiar perils.

Just an ethereal
reprieve of condolences
irradiating in the plague of mine.
Ephemeral sparks of hope
placating the absurd.
Entrenched in the hopeful hopelessness of the universe.

What catharsis lifts such dull fog?
Light enough to see through
yet dark enough to burden.