GOD is a white guy in his 30’s. GOD wears a royal blue Petsmart hat.  GOD has on a grey, short-sleeve button down shirt with a clip-on i.d. badge. GOD’s i.d. badge contains no letters or numbers, just a picture of GOD wearing an i.d. badge with a picture of GOD wearing an i.d. badge on it, and so on into infinity. GOD has cold sores on the corners of his mouth. GOD wears stone-washed jeans. They’re too short, but they have an elastic waist which is really comfortable, so it kinda makes up for the whole “too short” thing. GOD needs really thick “George H. W. Bush” glasses so he can open the rodent cages at work. GOD grew a mustache to hide the scarring from years of using old crusty disposable razors. GOD wears high-tops from 1998. They’re rather worn, but remarkably clean. GOD knows what to do with his hands, but not so much his fingers. GOD is in her 20’s. GOD is sad sometimes and she doesn’t know why. GOD nods. GOD once proved that the country of France does not exist. The fact that the country of France actually does exist makes the accomplishment that much more astounding! GOD is the dark and terrible Dragoyle! The first and last of his kind! GOD is a vicious, taloned beast born of the boiling pits of Borok-‘Tor! His reptilian wings expand across all of space and time and, with even the most gentle twitch, stir up a dense shear of molten flame scalding the skin of all Creation! GOD’s ancient black-diamond eyes, forged from eons of wrath and pain blast-melted in the great furnace that is his heavy heart, peer only inward, leaving him an uncompromising and limitlessly powerful but ultimately humiliating and repulsively weepy creature! GOD is All and All is king of all of All and all of He! GOD is the Unmirror. GOD is the final mathematic tragedy of what happens when we only ever try. GOD is the ghost of a dead thing that never was. GOD is the shattered, petrified shell of Pandora’s box cast down to the crackled crust of Pan’s windless desert. GOD loves you more than himself because GOD knows you are real. GOD farts on books! GOD sips on soup! GOD is a very serious actor in full make-up and costume doing an intense and superbly crafted representation of God, getting to the heart, the true reality of what it is to be God, the essence of Goddom, but in the end fears losing control and holds back, resulting in not genius but blasphemy! GOD masturbates to the Salt-n-Pepa 'Shoop' video! GOD caught you ******* to the Salt-n-Pepa 'Shoop' video! One time GOD got so drunk he forgot you were in the room! GOD invited you to the event “Max’s Karaoke Birthday Bash”! GOD knows you, but isn’t in know with you! GOD is 8,9,12,5,9,4! GOD is . . . ! -hha-hha- GOD is heard breathing. GOD breathes like you do when you’re asleep. At the start of each breath there is a very poignant yet very subtle lip-smack sound. The breathing is steady, never changing pace. Like that of Darth Vader only intentionally ridiculous. Like that of a ticking metronome only . . .  lifeful, which is a brand new word.

how do you want me to remember your laugh?
perhaps as the caress of your hands confusing my mind
or as the glory i could only enjoy from afar
make it more like a reminder that you’re not mine

This poem will knock your socks if


Did you read my others?!
Theory just really up tightly goodie believe myself yo

This one I so out English what a thing to right sorting other about?

Poem boll



Yes, no',

I'm a clam bam jd. You eater caker



What is weird title odd you says hha Han

/
nietzsche was ****** and made mad for deeming kant's solitude as idiotic, based on his intellectual output... no wonder he found admirers akin to married men like heidegger who held their solitudes as based upon their duties, obligations... having read heidegger admirer nietzsche's solitude, he who ****** kant's solitude: look - a wriggling worm, turning in his grave... much easier to play the joker card of solitude when darting across europe, eh? much harder to play the solitude card, rooted in one place, being deemed more eccentric, than: MYSTERIOUS... that being said, i really only have to pose for a Y (sky below, a place in england and a place in poland), HH: chiral displacement... W: edinburgh; which kind of translates into the modern narrative of everyone calling everyone else stupid... i already desecrated the altar of the jews, in that, my "saviour" taught me nothing of the nature of "the", "father"... i guess (roman gematria) Y (25) + H (8) + H (∞) + W (23) means something... not to mention M (13), and of course little 11 with a little 3 and a big up 20 (λ, γ, Υ)... but i ask you... how many times, does it take a greek to hide iota? Θ (theta), one... Ξ(ksi), two... Φ (phi), three... Ψ (psi), four! ha! all it took the barbarians was a bot-pod.

you can tell of of israel, when the dome of the rock, falls.

never you mind, but don't have two
at the same time,
  once upon a time i had locks,
long hair,
        and the women used to say:
what girl wouldn't be envious to
have that sort of pony tail...
    ****... getting out of here...
     and now, post scriptum the year
of maturing ****** *****,
i can appreciate men joking
about me having a beard:
      don't worry, it's growing,
you can hear it rustling among
    the tall grass when the wind blows...
but never, god forbid, you expose
both extensions...
    it's either: long hair and no ******
*****, or it's ****** *****
       and a roman / ottoman haircut...
******, coin flip!
              heads or tails?!
                 and this is the part where
we cocktail insomnia with
       that acute sense of ingesting
alcohol...
                berserk frenzy of the type...
catch me on a spelling mistake
and i'll solve you:

   643 825 719
   579 164 382
   128 973 645
   396 512 478
   754 698 123
   281 347 956
   815 436 297
   432 789 561
   967 251 834...

you can solve that,
i can tell you why it so HaPPeNs...
    quantum grammar
name it whatever you like,
i'm already having to address
a revision of crypto-nationalism
beyond the anglo-franco sphere:
hell... load of **** is, really happening
in Poland...
       i'd whip the leaders who
cling to their dead twins
and blame it all on russia,
and not the fog,
           and not a drinking problem...

crypto-nationalism?
    i'm in the trenches in a foreign land
using a parasitical tongue
while everything else is going
smoothly: to keep the memory
of the child i once was, intact...
that's crypto-nationalism to me...
yes yes, and i'll dance naked next
time you try to IMPLANT
A REGRESSION MEMORY
of a colonial past my body,
my is bound to: REJECT...

  hell, should have seen her,
no six-pack of muscle, no 12 incher
and she was still bewildered
as to why that turned her on...

            inflate the ego to an equivalent
of an acid trip with english lyrics,
aah... deflate it with finnish folk...
  goes hand in hand...
       and some were born adrenaline
***** monkeys,
   and some were the ones
who: "apparently" elevated
conscious by digesting a fungus...
            well... that's history
wrapped up for sure,
  a nice christmas present,
  all glittery and amnesiac of
anything that might have
happened in any century that
does not point toward
a rhetoric, namely:
the oddity of the area of European
land, not affected by the black plague...
  
       is that like: people knew hygiene,
or really liked cats?!
  
           stray dogs teach
stray man how to coexist...
i.e. share the burden...
         you take the stray dogs away...
the homeless men are worse
off than if they were introduced
into a rehousing programme...
  **** the bureaucrats pencil pushin',
hussling paper maches...
      leave the stray dogs where
they are... the two will naturally
gravitate to each other...
   but hey... if it's going to be
doggy Ritz all of a sudden,
         and man: the push-over?!
i'm dry on what surprises
are coming...
                 vee'schtyrn e-u-rho-pa'h...
#crownprinceofsaudiarabiasenttosavetheboyracersofkensingtonhighst­reet...
       did i get something wrong?
               always the man-child,
never the *******,
what ******* complex?
                  one ****** is poor
and "requires" psychiatric
intervention,
                    like a snail needs
               canines,
while the other?
          never played with matchbox.

what a ******* sour grape...
            the patron saint of snowflakes;
who?
      crown prince mohammed bin salman...
snowflake... yeah i know,
no chance of snow in the desert
as such, but once in a while...

ha ha... #welcome yada yada ditto....
but seriously... doing this *** puzzle
had me thinking about spelling...
                 HHa and HaH...
                         # (obviously) -
                 ||| versus |/| vs.
      |//
                    etc.,
                                this 2 dimensional
cube is, hyper-geometric,
             because it's an implosion,
             i.e. when it's 2 dimensional
it's an understanding of trigonometry...
when it's 3 dimensional it's an understanding
of geometry...
      how would you represent
sine, cosine and tangens in 3 dimensional space?
but back to spelling...
           stray dogs teach abandoned
men a freedom that no polity that discourages
strays to be free can ever teach
abandoned men
  to reenter a polity...
                  in the east you can still
have a stray dog companion...
   in the west?
   crawl on all fours,
          bark... and you might just
get into the Battersea Ritz!
   (laid slabs on the roof of
the new extension) -
           i've seen the "cages"
the strays have to endure...
             very ******* far from
a Bombai ghetto, i have to admit...
    maybe Paris Hilton wouldn't mind
though...
                 and always, this persisting
personification of inanimate objects...
i can understand a personification
of animals... but sausages?!
               cabbages?!
                        i haven't smoked
anything but i says to him:
dude?! did that hammer just insinuate
i'm a nail?
                     blackout.