Humungous pupils.
Little girl.
Attempting to realize the ways of the world.
Sinning and spinning,
  she twists and she twirls,
Through the tornado that fate seems to whirl.

So sure of herself,
  yet quite the mess.
Eager to learn and quickly progress.
She lays awake in constant distress,
  pondering humanity's stress to impress.

How on Earth are we all alive?
Buzzing around this big beehive.
Working for life then turning to dust.
Just for the honey, our bodies we bust.

Investing our trust in invented ideals.
Shunning away what's important and real.
What ever happened to "see, touch, and feel?"
We're worshipping paper, and mountians of steel.

Our slates were clean the day we were born.
From magazine pages, our knowledge was torn.
We were taught by Barbies and trucks to conform.
And we learned about love through movies and ****.

But imagine a life without fiction and wealth.
We'd all be forced to act as ourselves.
Without influence or image to compare and contrast,
  we'd have less confusion about how we should act.

A society raised on make believe.
Injected with ***, diamonds, and greed.
Living our lives on borrowed time,
  and filling the spaces with Marlboros and wine.
But then again, I'm just a girl,
  with humungous pupils in a made up world.

Today, I’m sharpening arrows
to aim them at
politicians with snouts in the trough,
clerics who preach peace for themselves
but hatred about others,
academics who promote freedom of speech
but run a Gulag Archipelago
for those who don’t follow their own ideas
or buy their textbooks,
hypocrites everywhere,
celebrities in general,
people who don’t smile,
people who aren’t nice,
(why are they here?)
fanatics, tyrants and power mongers,
(there are a humungous lot of these)
boring people,
(they wouldn’t be boring
if they could just try to engage a little more)
and those who block supermarket isles
with their trolleys while they stop and gossip.
I’d really like to put a few arrows in their butts
to puncture their pretensions and hear
the subsequent hiss of preciousness
unless they sincerely promise
to be more considerate
and try to love a whole lot more.
Now. I don't insist they have to love prodigiously,
but I reckon they could lighten the **** up
just a little, and try to laugh more frequently.
That's all.

Mike T Minehan

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gKPEOfybQak&feature;=related

Remember his name when you look at the night sky.
                                                           - the Toe-cutter

You are the Night Rider,
a fuel-injected suicide machine,
a rocker, a roller,
a no-controller,
yer a cop killer,
the mighty weird hand of vengeance
come to smite the un-roadworthy.

You, Night Rider,
clearly unaffected
by the state’s urgings
to “yield” and, perhaps,
“soft shoulder”.

You are the Night Rider,
sleeping in on a Tuesday,
performing your masculinity
in unshowered, unshaved machissmo.

Night Rider,
won’t you come to your senses?
Nobody enjoys maniacal laughter
anymore.
It makes us think of ****,
covered in fleas, bedbugs,
whiskey ****,

or Janis,
and the last moments of an American Saigon.


Ahh… Night Rider,
we share your machine lust,
your fetish,
your hard-on for the muscle-*****,
the suped-up hot rod,
the last of the V-8 Interceptors
(1973 Australian Ford XB Falcon GT).
We, too, like a nitrous kit,
a roof and tail spoiler,
we likes our flat black:
………....................our murderous speed
………..........................has driven daddy to drinkin’.


We ride!


Night Rider, we understand.
We get the lurid infatuation,
but, ****, yer a hick-****,
all these roads lead to jail
–how have you not grasped this simple truth?

The highway is not freedom,
but a circular slave song.


Oh, rider of the night,
why all the re-runs of Seinfeld?
And cheese bread?
You’ve grown a belly, N.R.,
and while it might be glam
to be young, dumb
and full of ***,
or all muscle
in ****-less chaps at 21,
you’re 45, Night Rider,
and no-one cares anymore
about your straight-line revolution,
about your road to freedom,
about it,
about what kind of future
you and Floosie would’a made.

The kids are alright
but
they ain’t never heard
of you
nor your last,
wild-eyed flight.

As the Lord Humungous has indicated,
no one
gets out
alive.

Ya gotta be proud of ya country
When ya wear it around on ya sleeve,
Ya gotta be proud of ya people
When they really know how to believe,
Ya gotta feel pride in ya product
when ya fashion & craft it with care
..and ya gotta repulse all the *******
when the rest of the world won’t share.

For man, as a species is poisonous
and God threw the towel in for sure,
When adam  & Eve ate the apple
and threw up all over the floor.
They broke all the rules at the outset
they muddied the waters so bad,
that confusion and greed ran in tandem
and mankind was fast going mad.

Eruptions of steel fly in carbombs
in the streets of Iraq every day,
Ethiopian babies are buried
before they are graced with a name,
and the great wheel of life turns in circles
and the rich play golf with the brave
and who gives a ****
that we’re stuck in the muck
Just so long as that mortgage is paid.

The Parlimentarian’s lying
The coppers are taking the graft,
the oilmen are creaming us all now
and the banks are so rich..they just laugh!
Society’s falling asunder
and we all stand around ******* beer,
can our kids now be blamed
when they all get inflamed
and inhale and inject and turn queer.

Our taxman’s making a killing
he’s fleecing the populace bare,
the small businesman’s plunged
cos he’s chucked in the sponge
and there’s nothing but vacuum left there.

There’s the segment that run high and lofty
their ideals are as white as the snow
for abortion’s as black & the **** is as slack
and GE and PC are go
The fingers are pointed at others,
the hands, lily white, seek refrain
sanctimonious soul seeks  unseekable goal
and the whole lot gets flushed down the drain.

Our PM is staunchly unchallenged
she adjusts her adjustments just so’
her manouvers adroit ‘
the election’s in site
and Labour is flush with the dough.
Minorities step up beside her,
the lesbians snap to their feet
and the marraigeless mothers
and **** ups and others
all cluster to be so discreet.

But the weather is turning up roses
the exchange is bullish so far
and the girls are as pretty
as the **** in the city
and the door to the future’s ajar.
Perhaps there’s some system to it.
Maybe I’ve missed the great plan
for religion has zeal and Christ made a meal
of repairing his mess with elan.

So you see I’m reconciled to it.
I’l glide along for the ride
It’s futile to fight the humungous great might
in it’s institutional slide.
So I wrap myself in my solace
embalm myself with my pride
for in my little world
this old flag is unfurled
.. and Kiwi I’l stand by your side.

Marshalg /Mangere Bridge /Christmas 2005

You're alive, but are you really living?

You have your head wrapped around your phone. You burry your face in your pillow every night, thinking about every problem you have to face the next morning. You're facing yourself in the mirror wondering how in the world you will cover that humungous blemish that made itself at home in the middle of your forehead.

Now, let me ask why.
Why do trivial things like this matter?

They don't.

In those precious moments, you have missed so many great things...

You were too busy on your phone to see the way the sun rises so beautifully in your bedroom window. You were so caught up in your own problems that you forgot to look around and see all the problems the world has solved. You were so entranced in the mirror, focusing on that blemish that you failed to notice your beauty, your self worth.

Now, let me ask you again.
You're alive, but are you really living?

My tongue is on fire
And stuck am I, in a mire
Dangling like a carrot
And waiting to be devoured
Is some rather delicious food
Unfortunately, I am not in the mood
Because, every time I take a bite
My ******* tongue puts up a humungous fight
Locking me up in a torture chamber
And thus filling me with loads of anger
How dare you do this to me, O darned tongue?
Do you think I am a piece of dung?

My tongue is on fire
And it does not care
How hungry I am
Serious, it gives not a ****
Set before me, is a mouthwatering meal
However, becoming am I, rather dull
As I struggle and struggle
My tongue pulling me into deep trouble
Slowly, do I begin to think
That, desperately do I need a drink
Thus, do I consume an entire bottle of water
However, just as I begin to feel better
That infernal tongue throws tantrum after tantrum
Thus spelling my doom
Predictably, coming to my rescue is a sweet
Dear Diabetes, soon we may meet!

My tongue is on fire
However, beginning am I, to fight
Because, I give up not, so easily
And I DO take the doctor's advice seriously
However, my tongue ends up having the last laugh
Since all those medicines are apparently not enough
To prevent me from being forced
To make a few sacrifices
When it cometh to food
Which again spoils my mood
Moreover, just when the situation seems to be getting back to normal
Dinner turns out to be quite the ordeal
Not for the first time
And definitely not the last
I even wonder if I should fast!!

My tongue is on fire
However, as mentioned before
Never do I give up easily
Dear tongue, for now you may smile nastily
However, soon will the tables be turned
And then YOU are gonna be doomed
Enjoy your time while it lasts
And NO, I will NOT fast
No matter how many tricks you may have up your sleeve
Victory you are not gonna achieve
Never again!!

I wish to write you the most beautiful thing you've ever read
I want to burn it into your mind and engrave it into your soul
I want that to be the only thing that I leave behind when I no longer exist
No tears for tomorrows which I have missed just one piece
Of words flowing with emotions packed to the brim with the stuff of dreams and overflowing energy
I want it to be my name
I want to give it to you and you alone
I want you to mumble it in your sleep I want you to quote it in your dreams I want it to be the single most inspirational thing you've ever seen
I want it to be better than the artwork at a museum
I want it to be deeper than the concept of human emotions
I want it to shine brighter than the stars and I want it to be there
Forever
In your arms
Not in your hands
Because I want you to embrace it all night and day because my existence will one day fade away
And I don't want to think back
Last second wondering why
I ever held back from you
When you are the world before my eyes
So I want you to know that no matter where I go I want that poem to procede me in utters and mumbles and for no-one to hear it
I want to be able to smile and mean it
I want to give my soul to that poem
I want to put all that I've got and give what's not mine to give in that poem
I want you to be in its finest lines and contours
I want it to paint the subtle image
Of you and your smile
I want it to mean as much to you as the whole world entire
I want it to be so much that I feel sometimes that I cannot aspire to reach this humungous goal
But
If I wait for the world to take action so I can start to move
I'm afraid I won't even be a small fraction of what started to move
I'll be playing along and that's not right
So I want to give you this poem before my life begins
Because so far I'm existing and I've got so much left to give
So
I want to get rid of it all
And lay it in arms I can trust I want to label it off as
"Something I must"
And I want life to begin shortly after I write it
And my existence will fade
And it will be called progress I'll give you this much and then make a promise
To never hold back and not only go forward
But
Learn from the past and keep going onward
So
I can feel right in myself
When I see your smile
When I hold you in my arms and whisper things like a child
I must write the greatest thing I'll ever make
And I hope it will make you smile

This day was an absolute Wonder for me
I saw all of my Friends i’ve been Dying to see
the Sun shined so bright, i could Hardly Believe
This place is for Me, i don’t want to leave
From the Time i layed eyes on their Smiling Faces
I couldn’t stop thinking how Perfect this place is,
The energy is Love that is floating amung Us
So small on a map, But in our Eyes, humungous
This place is My World, it is where i Belong,
These Freinds are my people, our Bonds, so strong
i’ve been around the World now, and Still do i feel
that In This place, the love that I feel, This is real..
Through sharing these Days with my Freinds, We Reveal
This Laughter, This Love, This Life...   This is Real.

Will someone ever understand me?
As simple as it sounds, the word ‘understanding’ is an uncanny term. To expect understanding from others is like a screaming paradox that uninvitingly and inevitably gives its RSVP. Definition of understanding varies from person to person. While some term ‘compatibility’ as basic understanding, others think understanding as a means to gain affirmation. Both interpretations sound alike but in fact very much like bibliophile and bibliomaniac. It gets peculiar as we proceed.
Why in this world do we need affirmation?
It’s profoundly queer to ask for acceptance. Do we really need ‘approval’ for our existence? We’re not illegal. Illegal things require approval. Drugs require consent. We don’t need to prove why we should be accepted. Giving heed to such a peculiarity is equivalent to symbolising yourselves as illegitimate. You have a birth certificate. You’re a registered citizen of a country and you have a house to live. You go to school/college/ work. You’re normal. Believe me, you’re not a felon.
Why don’t people fulfil our expectation?
Major Irony Alert. Expectations being fulfilled is, I believe, one of those rare miraculous occurring in our lives. When people get it, they find the solace hard to digest. Just when they are faintly ready to accept it, they change the course the things by doing deeds to blindly adhere to the balance of sad and happy. And when the ruination has been already done, they crave for it. Dear fellow beings of earth, stop expecting. It’s purely a hypothesis. The permanency of the damage expectations leave behind needs no explanation. It’s one of the most obvious and self-explanatory dictum on this planet.
People around me crave for being accepted. Girlfriends incessantly complain about their boyfriends not understanding them and vice versa. Parents lament over the ignorance their children. Children whine about the gap between them and their parents. People spend humungous cash to buy endurance. The reasons for such acts, I don’t reckon.
There’s an old African belief that hovers around the truth of being singularities. I find it deeply humbling. Why ask for plurality when the sole purpose for our creation was to be singular and fulfilling.  
The purpose for this entry is to some extent not defined to what I believe. It is not meant to mould you. It is meant to be analysed by you. Critique it. Make your own moulds. It’s just what the existing needs.

The serpentine and ageless liquid
   mercurial possessed snake
eternally swallowed
   since the beginning of time
   one unquenchable thirst to gorge and slake
slurping up an icy cold mountainous pebbly shake
   yet fresh as an irish spring
   using thy tongue o gaelic spake
   then tumbling down into the cavernous abyss
   subsequently carving
   a deep criss cross patchwork
   across the rock hard rugged topography
   like the handiwork of some invincible force
   commandeering a humungous rake
affixing legendary signature
   quasi-indelible grooves
   only for the near indomitable
   chiseled masterpiece
   to be erased, twisted then wrenched
   by that natural landscape altering phenomena
   identified as an earth quake
creating a fresh tabula rasa to begin anew
   inviting waters from on high to carve
   from the ebbing and flowing millennial currents
   which eventually find a more direct course
   beginning as trickling creek
   swells from winter rains
   and thence in summer while the sun doth bake
   when flora blooms and fauna prance
the firmament  then abandons
   bent elbow oxbow lake
as a former bend in the river.

Fame is the most wanted creature travelling across the planet!

You’re desparate to have it but with those cheap and stupid specs,
Cuz the ones already being famous would always compare you with rotten eggs!

It takes a lot of beauty, trolling tricks and stylish progression,
To get the whole ******* thing in a goof like yours possession!

Generosity doesn’t matter buddy you gotta have swag,
Sweetness won’t suffice anything…..what about boasts and brags?

Trend-setting hair, profound blue eyes,
With a bunch of smirks and you’ve just become a price!

Well…how can we forget that perfect jawline,
Which deviate everyone and let them go blind!

Now you just realised…that you haven’t got any of it,
What you gonna do when your post won’t be called “LIT”!

Famous were James and Lily, therefore he became Harry,
Otherwise a 12 year old orphan in Hogwarts wouldn’t be necessary!

So stop running behind the train called Popularity,
Cuz once you outshone the swaggy-dupes, this train will depart from your city!

Why worry and speculate to fit in the insane trend,
You just want a number of people, what if everyone on Earth would like to be your friend!

Today people attract you and tomorrow you’ll do the same,
This is the function and feature of this humungous magnet called FAME!

Just be yourself and forget about fame, cuz your success would always scan it,

Fame is the most wanted creature travelling across the planet!

Utkarsh Upadhyay

Today's emotional arc
and background
setting

Crashed on you

Gi-humungous-normous
Asteroid
Hits here

Leaves hole

It's encircling surprise
lifts stone
to shatter

The end


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis

i don't know why it happens: the stuff i like that i've written falls on deaf ears... perhaps like Ezra Pound i'm about to lament: so few come to my fountain, thirst i guess is wasted on the people who'd rather hallucinate an oasis... i feel out of place... intellectually: i guess i have to be dead to get the sort of traction i deserve: but first death...

i wondered today, why did i buy this beast of a bicycle?
it's horrid: in that it's massive...
this Trek Merlin 5 is humungous...
i might as well tell people as i cycle past that i'm
donning a ride of a motorbike...

and for some reason i keep repeating listening
to Jane's Addiction's Three Days...
it's the bass... i'm a sucker for bass guitar...

then again: like today i woke up and something
ancient: inborn within me woke up
to count how many shadows i owned...
luckily just the one... although: two tongues...
my mother's tongue woke up
in my mind... it's always awake in speech...
but not awake enough to scribble
something down...

mind you: i found the only ideal imitation
of Hebrew in English... i'll show that later...
as i will something else...

mój głos jest przestrzeń -
    a moja myśl (jest) czas...
o tym so powstało w lesie pewnej nocy...

translation? my voice is space...
but my thought (is) time...
about what was created in the forest
a particular night...

  well... two nights...
one night i was drinking heavily on the bench
in Havering County Park...
the night summarised me with
not being surprised... i had
to walk through night, shadow, fog and blindness...
i ended up screaming an aria of bile:
of caged venom of absolute carnage...
mayhem: a tornado on my breath
an earthquake on my tongue...
a volcano in my lungs...
a crucifixion and the absolution of the moon
by a rain of meteors in my heart...
nothingness in my mind... i screamed: i... ROARED...

where have you gone? echo? where?!
that was one night... some other night
i walked back and became frightened...
someone in the woods was silly enough
to brush against an incantation...
i heard them: Satanus in Excelsis!
****... what did i just start? did i give someone
the benefit of doubt or rather: faith?
i was just ******* about a pebble...
i couldn't see... i was marching blind through
the forest... the moon failed me...
it was winter... i was cold...
that's what i mean: my voice was space...
if i were in a cave and i didn't hear
echo... the "shadow" of the voice...
my body is a form that's also a shadow....
stretching.... stretching... mind you:
Game of Thrones... i'm not a big fan...
iron is the currency of that universe?
in my universe? RUBBER is worth more than gold...
but at the same time... it used to be paper...

- let's just say my relationship with women
is... cordial... i heard whispers from a well forgotten
past... i has tattooed by Chernobyl...
a birth mark of plum on my shoulder blade...
as if someone were to remove a wing
and i should have been born an angel...
this nurse... tried to choke me: to spare my mother
the troubles: of what? a freak?!
i have witnessed better freaks live out their lives...
she tried to choke me... the story went along
the lines of: the **** of the milk-bottle
had a ****** too large for your to swallow...
you started choking: your heart enlarged...
plus the hernia... i was born out of agony...
it's all burred: unconscious in me....
but how are you going to treat women,
if the first women you encounter are... ******* willing
to **** you?
that's my relationship with women...
i love prostitutes... the only "class" of women
i love... i like sniffing out lies...
i like lip-reading... i've read enough to be able
to lip-read...
i abhor people who think they're smart
but? are dumb as doughnuts!
i can't insult donkeys...
    i smell fear.. i smell lies...
          as every chameleon ought to...

i should be less bothered:
i just missed the marker... those who are willing
to read me haven't been born yet...
it's best seeing it that way...
i'm not going to bemoan having written
the Great Gatsby... and then... ugh?! what now?!

i see the seat: SEDES...
that's... the part of the toilet that's the "rim"...
the plastic that closes in on the ceramics...
SEDES...
              i see...
write English with two variations:

(a)
  / (waɪt) /
              / (ˈɛlɪfənt) /
      / (nəʊ) /
                    / (ruːm, rʊm) /

wait for what? i thought i said: white: wide: white?!
phonetics my ***... the English version
is half-bad... still bad... but it's not h'american
hwyte bad: that's ******* teasing the Welsh
tongue to come forward!
you want sheep-shaggers in your midst?

that's what i love "naturalization"... you pick
up on local traditions... on local stereotypes and local
preferences and local discriminations...
although... i love the French... biggest bicycle freaks...
at university i had two portraits on my wall...
Napoleon and Marquis the Sade...
who do you think this French girl attacked?
Napoleon was the = of ******...
not a brilliant man... no... no... KO...
    i did manage to lose my virginity with her...
which was nice...
Isabella... third year psychology exchange student...
she looked like a Dracula's *****...
she had ills against Napoleon...
but no trouble stomaching Marquis de Sade...
then again: she probably didn't
recognise him...

but when it comes to the Frenchmen and
the Polacks... Napoleon created the satellite state
of the Duchy of Warsaw...
i... i can' give thanks?! i ought to! Napoleon
gave the Polacks a homeland back...
from that terrible experiment of theirs of their
elected monarchy...
great plan! applause! let the Polacks decide on
a king and make him the younger inheritor
of the throne of Sweden... then watch as brother
turns on brother and invades...
with Sweden bringing the deluge of an invasion
against the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth!

these people are are either too free or too subordinate!
they can't decide...
i stopped caring...
there's nothing i can do...
i'm away from the land of my birth...
ii'm looking toward churning out
an imitation of Hebrew in English...
i'm sure i can... i can...
i can replace the NIQQUD...
    
Hebrews hide their vowels...
what you see are consonants...
you don't actually see the vowels...
i can do the same...
but i will not use the niqqud system...
i'll use the Braille methodology...

this language is mine!
                        i don't care whether i was or wasn't
born with it: i have inherited it!
this language is my dog on a leash!
this language is a cat sleeping freely in my bed!

i will not look into the squiggly nature of Arabic...
someone else is waiting for that
assortment of interest...
me?
i'm bound to investing interest in Hebrew...
the niqqud and Braille... and English...
you ******* smart orthofox Jews... "think"?!
i too think!

    (b)

          met the shadow baron and his host...
i.e.
              M⠑T TH⠑ SH⠁D⠕W
                            B⠁R⠕N
                        ­  ⠁ND H⠊S
  H⠕ST...

                            i see, i don't see...
ONOMATOPEIA:
U's missing...
    ⠕N⠕M⠁T⠕P⠕⠑⠊⠁(⠥ - y, o and u too!)

oh... you think... that just because
the Hebrews suffered a Holocaust they can be
freed from their deity: their
god eating god deity?! Moloch used to be a god!
Beelzeebub was a god!
Mammon and the whole lot of them!
Behemoth!
              Belial!
              right... your people hide their vowels...
i'll invested an idea too! to hide vowels among the blind...
i know it will have no decent traction...
i know it's a complete an utter failure:
but... i know you will see the momentary genious
of it!
hmm! America is... ripe! it's... Rrrrr-ipe!

blowing 99 red balloons April 9th, 2023
will signal 158 years since Appomattox
plus what would have been ninety sixth birth
of the late Boyce Brandon Harris,
whereby yours truly the biological byproduct
when secular parents of mine
simply following the dictum
constituting be fruitful and multiply.

(Alternately titled always look
on the bright side of life sang
courtesy Eric Idle in Life of Brian)

Armageddon would be morbidly amazing,
concluding (reign of **** Sapiens)
fascinating albeit simultaneously
fantastic, catastrophic boon
dog gull to accompany
(this incognito sans,
spacesuit attired as bugs bunny
foolish faux rabbit, yup you reddit right
with netzero outlook)

amidst others eyed hop along
(like Cassidy) to find
amidst rubble strewn cocoon,
or perchance an arrid extra dry
armed hammer hotmail spelling
unrelenting radioactive
blown humungous earthlinked dune
daffy duck dynasty Don
trumpeting a brave (though

extremely foolish soul) weathering
fierce-some dust bowl
appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man
disallowing any inhabitant to be immune
whereat winter days
would mimic (nee far exceed)
those analogous to tropical June
day where nary species

of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry
viz Clair De Lune
barely heard above blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run)
when earth's moon
appeared to be batted,
snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting
darkness at high noon

this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic,
cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re:
outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite
believed rigged forever)
which end of planetary
status quo came barreling along
sooner than expected, accompanied

by Gustav Holst The Planets
auspicious, eponymous, illustrious... tune
once Luna rung seismically,
titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero
rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming
thru the atmosphere
analogous a full term baby
in utero yanked out of womb.

Though the above dynamic
gigantic jack-knifed nihilistic quantum
spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind,
whose tenancy upon oblate spheroid
viz planet Earth did upstage
when said creature, an outlier),
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids didst throve a sage

no event (whether natural
or caused by human error),
would compare neither captcha,
when quaking, roiling, swarming,
teeming masses rage
against the machine
emasculated, jiggered, orchestrated
and wrought one after another
****** war strewn page
onto once verdant terrestrial firmament

no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, scope of total
value eradicating any trace
of simian equipage
reducing arrogant, conceited,
egomaniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched
science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive
in their own technological cage

more to the point yours truly
self imprisoned barred bard,
(whose fleshy epidermis camouflaged beige)
tricked out with latest futuristic
technological “smart” sophistication
showcasing latest skin tight accouterment
a win for progressive
penal reform champions,
who feel a cannibal (accountable)
to stamp out anthropophage.

Ya gotta be proud of ya country
When ya wear it around on ya sleeve,
Ya gotta be proud of ya people
When they really know how to believe,
Ya gotta feel pride in ya product
when ya fashion & craft it with care
..and ya gotta repulse all the *******
when the rest of the world won’t share.

For man, as a species is poisonous
and God threw the towel in for sure,
When adam  & Eve ate the apple
and threw up all over the floor.
They broke all the rules at the outset
they muddied the waters so bad,
that confusion and greed ran in tandem
and mankind was fast going mad.

Eruptions of steel fly in carbombs
in the streets of Iraq every day,
Ethiopian babies are buried
before they are graced with a name,
and the great wheel of life turns in circles
and the rich play golf with the brave
and who gives a ****
that we’re stuck in the muck
Just so long as that mortgage is paid.

The Parlimentarian’s lying
The coppers are taking the graft,
the oilmen are creaming us all now
and the banks are so rich..they just laugh!
Society’s falling asunder
and we all stand around ******* beer,
can our kids now be blamed
when they all get inflamed
and inhale and inject and turn queer.

Our taxman’s making a killing
he’s fleecing the populace bare,
the small businesman’s plunged
cos he’s chucked in the sponge
and there’s nothing but vacuum left there.

There’s the segment that run high and lofty
their ideals are as white as the snow
for abortion’s as black & the **** is as slack
and GE and PC are go
The fingers are pointed at others,
the hands, lily white, seek refrain
sanctimonious soul seeks  unseekable goal
and the whole lot gets flushed down the drain.

Our PM is staunchly unchallenged
she adjusts her adjustments just so’
her manouvers adroit ‘
the election’s in site
and Labour is flush with the dough.
Minorities step up beside her,
the lesbians snap to their feet
and the marraigeless mothers
and **** ups and others
all cluster to be so discreet.

But the weather is turning up roses
the exchange is bullish so far
and the girls are as pretty
as the **** in the city
and the door to the future’s ajar.
Perhaps there’s some system to it.
Maybe I’ve missed the great plan
for religion has zeal and Christ made a meal
of repairing his mess with elan.

So you see I’m reconciled to it.
I’l glide along for the ride
It’s futile to fight the humungous great might
in it’s institutional slide.
So I wrap myself in my solace
embalm myself with my pride
for in my little world
this old flag is unfurled
.. and Kiwi I’l stand by your side.

Marshalg /Mangere Bridge /Christmas 2005

January twelfth two thousand and ten
October seventh two thousand  eighteen
and again August fourteenth,
two thousand and twenty one
witnessed near annihilation and destruction
of the Haitian nation,
(especially courtesy first and third aforementioned)
whereby countless/ nameless individuals
e’en the strongest Herculean type men
crushed by humungous slabs of building facades
practically demolishing every creation
since this island settled,
which indigenous tribes initially sought safety
in any geologic den
seeking solace and salvation
from wrath of nature

by paying obeisance via oblation,
perhaps giving credence
to clear water in tandem with rooster and hen
that laid a golden egg, especially
as encroaching savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans
foisted forfeiture of land
with primitive implement like pen
no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake such actions
rent asunder culture beseeched divine force
argh inhumane brutish, nasty and (shortish)
simians (compared to 21st century ****  sapiens)
refused to cease desecration,
yet the peoples of this dominion

rose from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
no matter genetic pool
underwent white washing from scouring influx
from western thumping proselytizers,
which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
and basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
and those coveted legal tender bucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative
(wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard,

yet within the very fiber of tropical mangrove
persons patiently lined up their ducks
as intimated  by this aging hippy type nerd,
and declared as the first
African American peoples spurred
INDEPENDENCE to be the word
whence adulation, elation, inspiration
akin to the sound winged fowl clucks
until the onset of one after another major earthquake
rendered land of high mountains
(crafted from Taíno language)
into jumble of utter annihilated smithereens.

(alternately titled: lion eyes hide sharp claws
unless made irate, then yours truly
bares his sharp talons
on all of mine faux pas).

Aye attest tubby reincarnated
from one male Russian Blue
species Felis silvestris catus
named Morris if that gives a clue,
and during my fuzzy past
hence, asthma “Cats Cradle”
segued into kitten hood
fur hum lee established

type cats as (tin pan) alley cat,
a rather litter boxed gritty debut
t'wood become (later in life) tabby
quick as greased lightning
snatching in the air,
when tender vittles flew,
technically got fired (acquiring
appropriate pet nicknames)

as fame (like a bushy cat tail) grew
viz perfect back up crooner
for “Cat Stevens”,
or lead singer for
the "Stray Cats" oddly
coupled, featured, and
incorporated with the guru
Horton Hears A Hoo,

yes him Elephant resembling
a humungous mandrake
from the, "Animals,"
whose body heat could
easily melt an igloo,
whereby Eskimos accepted charity from
Korean philanthropists named Joo
(founders of Palaces for Pachyderms),

these lumbering creatures possessed
an exemplary photographic memory
(rivaling that of the amazing
deceased idiot savant
Kim Peek) knew
practically every detail
incorporating trunk hated lines
(and could track missing lynx),

when felines shared common ancestor
but,...such petty files would most likely boar
and go way off course, and hence
I will shy away being extempore
favoring a deliberate fore
ray padding around basically ignore
ring any rhyme or reason
suddenly ending this persiflage,
and thence to thee bon jour.

crafted before onset when people of color  
got acknowledged for twenty eight or nine days
depending if leap year occurred.

Though I yam Caucasian,
rightful to honor most bitter
racist genocidal crime,
nonetheless ovation qua
one non WASPish critter
buzzfeeds kickstarts poetic hitter,
viz quintessential significant contribution
vis a vis ******* that doth litter
just pass over after me death
as posthumous Jew pitter,
patter one among anonymous wordsmith
(linkedin to Ashkenazi)
multitudinous Semitic peoples.

Many unknown dark skinned souls
cruelly abducted, enslaved, lynched...
wrenched, yanked, and zipped
out heart of darkness within
pristine jungles of Africa
bravely fought as non quitter
with ebony melanin to **** sitter,
this asthma feeble attempt
made as thoughtful, rueful, mindful literate
read courtesy sibling, parent,
guardian or baby sitter
reasonable rhyme aye adorn
rhythmically snapchat, tweet and twitter.

**** Sapiens with Negroid color
who, despite being human *******
managed to illuminate, embellish, adorn
worthy contributions to society,
though me Asian garden variety
American (though not so proud),
and civilization since time immemorial
hence, I wanna pay poetic homage
to persons gifted with melanin born
akin to diversity exemplifying gamut
analogous to Indian corn
debased brutally and forlorn
no matter raised in cornucopia horn
of plenty with rare serf tenderness

whipped by wicked task masters
from the crack of morn,
aye cannot fathom why
a great proportion of humanity
must struggle on scraps of subsistence
while yours truly with sixty plus shades
of Caucasian pigment, albeit servile
shamefully linked heritage viz
precarious, opprobrious, nefarious,...  
Matthew Scott Harris sworn

vengeance against those perpetrators
whereat cultures, histories, languages...
eradicated courtesy genocide,
nevertheless heroic efforts
witnessed Underground Railroad
where a minority escaped,
being branded, manacled, tortured,
et cetera history as slaves an existence
until...pacified family dislocated
sans rent asunder, ripped and torn.

Once a proud family akin to Brady
bunch, now brutally, nasty
and short lived poorly destitute
(case in point) like Haiti -
once a nation extant with cultural finery
insidiously ***** "Lady"
lacerated odiously robbing
unique peoples as owners didst slay
practically naked "Primates"
encaged like wild animals in zoos
culturally robbed while
abhorrently marched in ones and twos
shredded souls without shoes
(analogous to persecuted Jews)
of singular ambition to break shackles
though tightly fused
to life as they chose.

The above smattering examples of many peoples
UNFAIRLY subjected
to subservience and exempt
from enjoying the fruits of their labor.

January twelfth two thousand and ten
(original date this communique writ then
kept wedged where in no wise
bore visual witness
vis a vis near annihilation and destruction
of African, Haitian,
South American, et cetera nations
whereby countless/ nameless individuals
e’en the strongest Herculean type men

crushed by humungous slabs of
building facades practically
demolishing every creation
since this island and/or
sundry other nation settled, which
indigenous tribes sought safety
in any geologic den
seeking solace and salvation
from wrath of nature

by paying obeisance via oblation
perhaps giving credence to clear water
in tandem with rooster and hen
that laid a golden egg and chicken thing,
especially encroaching, jumpstarting, outsourcing
once noble savages affected violation
particularly when Europeans
foisted forfeiture of land
with primitive implement like pen
no matter that travesty, trickery, mockery,
et cetera wrought humiliation
pleading invaders to forsake
such actions that rent asunder
culture beseeched god when
these depraved brutish, nasty
and (shortish) Hobbesian simians
wantonly increased desecration.

The peoples of this dominion rose
from the ashes like the phoenix like bird
no mattered genetic pool underwent
white washing from scouring influx
from western thumping proselytizers,
which alien beliefs hard to swallow like curd
basically bribery (with lustrous trinkets)
ah those coveted legal tender.

Upon emancipation proclamation cessation
to sell men, women and for x amount of bucks
akin to the soundcloud winged fowl clucks
foisted/ forced the unpleasant alternative
(wanton slaughter) to be clearly heard,
yet within the very fiber of tropical
mangrove persons patiently lined up their ducks
and declared as one of the first semi *****
esse full African American peoples
INDEPENDENCE to be the word,
whence adulation, elation, inspiration echoing
across ramshackle greensward.