Poetry ought to do things right
and document reality—
but modern muses lose the fight
weaponizing identity.

Out-doing themselves, our leaders all
legitimize perversity.
Who gave them this satanic call
to demonize normality ?

In showing off their dubious worth,
the nation’s ignobility
transform to Babel all the earth
augmenting instability.

They can’t go One-World fast enough
suppressing Christianity.
Their matriarchy’s mom is tough,
enforcing femininity.

Milk of reptilian global beast:
postmodern animality
offers her withered poison breast
maintaining infantility.

They pour across. We help them in
supporting illegality;
our taxes fund their brand-new life
rewarding criminality.

Magma slides down the throat
with little ceremony due to its rote
Smoke jets out in inky knots
from flared nostrils, scorched slots

Calefaction pulses past my chin
Napalmic streaks skitter across skin
The very air begins to reek of roast
a smoldering declaration, coast to coast

The sun itself settles in my solar plexus beneath
As I speak, eager flames spit past my teeth
Steps I take, to unjust enemy and cunning foe
impale the ground, utterly melting it below

Feeble are the ones who seek dispute
Mighty remains they who tread the path of truth

Their swords are in hand, stained in slayed ignobility
aware of wickedness and its toxic capability

Let the ones who seek shelter under darkness, under gloom
behold the justice and power of light, upon doom

/i might not be the sharpest head-piece in the arsenal, but you know what they say about a blunt and sharp "head" of a nail? matches up blunt, to the blunt head of a hammer... esp. when prior to the wood, it penetrates through flesh... oh hell: i acknowledge the ****** metaphor... i just like it's not an analogy of a hishing hook with one's best: curling hand in bowling the perfect scoop / score.

x     8     y     3     z     2     x     1     y
z     x     y     6     5     8     y     1     z
x     8     7     i     4     q     2     1     y
z     8     x     3     y     2     z     1     x
y     8     x     3     z     2     y     1     x
y     8     x     3     z     2     y     1     x
y     8     x     3     z     2     y     1     x
y     8     x     3     z     2     y     1     x
y     8     x     3     z     2     y     1     x

             ah... only upon a finished example...


explain to me why i should stop
jerking off onto the current culture
with a pleaure,
  when seeking "high mind"
in solving ***-intellect-pop-"****"
               at the same time?
last time i heard,
      thinking arises much easier:
res vanus (a priori),
               res cogitans (a posteriori)
and...               unfortunate
        authentic spectacle non-measurable
debate in schizophrenia
     (res extensia)...
       giving a "quest" for the kabbalists...
which are the select jews...
seriously? one "magic" square?
i just digested nine,
  drunk... and now: it wasn't exactly
a reason to be proud of...
just a torture... of accomplishing it
drunk and...
   hardly playing the part of
   attempting an edge of: vacancy...
see...
   i missed the crux...
                  the part where
the pack of wolves are deemed
scouting...
   what remains is the toying aspect
of the "puzzle"...

  back to basics:

x     8     x     3     x     2     x     1     x
x     x     x     6     5     8     x     x     x
x     x     7     x     4     x     2     x     x
6     x     2     5     x     1     8     x     4
x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x     x
x     x     3     x     x     x     5     x     x
4     x     x     x     2     x     x     x     9
2     x     x     4     8     x     x     x     6
x     x     8     x     x     x     4     x     x

concerning the former exaple?
  nothing smart about ctrl shift C + P...
what was i thinking?
  8, 3, 2, 1 recurrence of the first line
of the clue?
    
you know why i like pensioners?!
they love solving crosswords...
but when it comes to solving sudoku?!
******* voodoo to them!

and not because i'm envious of the ginger
scoot who could hack
          the samurai tier...
                      the basics...
regressing into kabbalah...
    that's the me part...

         will tell you when i'm done
the drinking and:
eyeing that beautiful blonde
down the "aisle" of a tilted
beer-glass...

9     8     4     3     7     2     6     1     5
3     2     1     6     5     8     9     4     7
5     6     7     1     4     9     2     3     8
6     7     2     5     3     1     8     9     4
x     9     5     x     x     4     7     x     x
y     4     3     y     x     7     5     x     x
4     5     6     7     2     3     1     8     9
2     1     9     4     8     5     3     7     6
7     3     8     9     1     6     4     5     2

             magic squares my ***...
   even i thought that the hebrew had better
things to do with their celibate
roger rabbits,
than what the anglicans kept them
for celibate in hope of generating
a self-esteem franchise...
        apparently no two types of people
are worthy of the same status
given the hierarchical norms...

XY XY ** ** **

   not insulting any intelligence,
other than my own...
   2:3 ratio of males to females...
the perfect "decalogue"...
             2 fifth male, 3 fifths female...
i could fill in the missing
numbers,
but the exercise is not
exactly to solve this puzzle,
or any puzzle...
          
            loved the jerking-part approach,
shame about the motivational speech...
    and if my stomach should
become known to you
to be the size of a pear's bellybutton
embrace of a jazz via pretense of
imitating squeezing a tongue...
or the whole: bailing out ignobility should
somehow...
   forsake my presence at your
                                  child's barmitvah...

takes two men to be gay...
  but at least one woman to
    come between a gay man being paired
to a woman and not sleeping
     with his consort of hail: anon. h'****.

once you get the surrogacy and
upper tier ******* of "mothers"
                                        over and done with;
just think, of your children!
   george orwell crap isn't going
to hack it on me...
i'm in for the real ****...
         the huxley embryos...
       the... curdling milk in your
morning cereal...
     come to think of it...
what a horrid affair of children...
who never appreciated drinking
sour milk.

Hateful ignobility wrought upon us these
Blissful fragments of tormented peace.
What shall be said, to our high priest,
"King!" Amassed before the lowly beast.
Unfiltered foolishness rid us our dream
"Avaunt! There is no place for you to bring."
Wherefore betwixt the serpent's gaze malicious,
Bloomed a thousand vibrant fruit precocious?

Anon I cast this body ablaze, amaze!
No ceasing tongue could me more grace.
Writhing agony upon the stakes makes
Not a sight inticing of my craves.
Heresy upon heresy, to dare invade
This earthly domain we've made.
The fig tree bears no fruit, thus let it
Be jilt upon the basket we knit.

Still are adored these little green branches,
And their pink buds, yet undone, too, matches.
This twilight over the hill, dusks before dark,
This half light erelong, stars unmarked.
Forsooth the answer ought come, but
Wilt it be made known to such a mutt?
Curtains will close, roses will wither,
Wherein will we know to go thither?

This mud, tis cold. This grass, tis old.
And there's nothing else in sight.