I am the product of lost civilization;
hanging in between circles  of  modernization ;
who tells
Whether its rising or setting of sun  or globalization
The era of bindis
Or glamorization
Of going to Pubs
or piligrimization
Of  mothers going to kitty parties  
and  of socialization
Of works of Picasso's    
Or hussainization
Of  belief of gods
Or Sensationalization
Of act of democracy
Or  just rationalization
Of laws of science
Or limitization
Of acts of defiance
Or patronization
Of loss of love                        
Or dehumanization
Of views of people
Or individualization

Suburbia I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.
Suburbia three hundred thousand dollars December 1, 2001.
The cost of living’s too high.
We’re all just waiting around to die.
Suburbia when will you unlock your gates?
You've thrown away the key.
You won't even bother to read me.
Suburbia when will you pay attention?
When will you remove your mask?
When will you fall apart?  
When will you fail to live up to your standards?
Suburbia why are you so ignorant?
Suburbia why don't you feel guilty for your privilege?
Suburbia when will you evict me?
I’m sick of your strict covenants.
Why can't I paint my house yellow?
Suburbia after all it is you and I who are white.
You’re sheltering me.
You made me want to paint my skin black.
Can you meet me half way?
Somewhere in between these walls and freedom.
I’m stuck in the middle and I can’t get out of you.
I don’t think I’ll make it out alive.
Will you release me?
Are you telling me the truth?
I will find it.
I refuse to give up.
Suburbia stop pushing I know what I’m doing.
Suburbia your welcome sign got painted over.
Your people have given you a new name.
Suburbia I am sentimental about your driveway on Sunday mornings.
Suburbia I used to be a Catholic when I was a kid and I am sorry.
Suburbia I have blamed you for my depression and I am not sorry.
I challenge you every chance I get.
I've written myself out of you for thirteen nights straight.
I lost my virginity on the first night I snuck out of your house.  
My mind’s been made up since then.
You should have seen me reading Thoreau at the edge of your lawn.
My English teacher thinks I'll write better poetry once I leave.
I won’t stay here for longer.
I have un-American dreams.
Suburbia I still haven’t told you what you did to me.
I'm addressing you.  
Are you going to let the covenants control your identity?
I’m obsessed with individualization.
You roll your eyes when I walk down the street.
I look you in the eyes and smile as you mock me.
Why so serious?
You’re corporate American greed. You are what your money can buy. Your identity is merely a label assigned to you at birth that you’ve been fighting with your whole life.
It occurs to me that I am suburbia.
I do not see my reflection when I look in the mirror.
You are rising against me.
I don’t stand a fighting chance.
I’d better quit while I’m ahead.
Everything I own fits inside this backpack.
So I packed my **** and left for home.
I say nothing about the prisons or the millions of underprivileged who can’t afford you who dwell under the Birmingham Bridge and graffiti littered highway signs.  
You abolished us.
I painted over you now I’m off to play tag with the streets.
My ambition is to feel at home there.
Suburbia how can I make you listen?
Suburbia let me go.
Why won't you let me move on?
I will continue like a white horse in the wild.
Suburbia I will not make the rent this month.
Suburbia free me from your bounds.
Suburbia save me.
Save our people.
They must not dive.
Suburbia I am the only white on the outside.
Suburbia when I was twelve my cousins took me to the ghetto to buy ******* and the sun was sticky and they told me not to keep their secrets.
I felt like a spy.
Suburbia you're no better at fighting the war on drugs.
Suburbia they're shooting up next door.
Suburbia I thought you were supposed to keep me safe.  
Suburbia you want to eat us alive. Your power's mad. You want to take
my neighbors life and keep me as your slave.
You want to put a price on people and places that were never yours to begin with.
You herd black sheep away from your borders.
Your big bureaucracy segregated and destroyed the land.
Suburbia this is quite serious.
Suburbia this is the impression I get from lurking outside your white picket fences.
Suburbia is this correct?
I'd better get right down to it.
It's true I don't support you.
Suburbia I've given you all and now I'm leaving.

Artificial stimulation zapping all imagination
Any creation or sensation lost in a noise of falsification
Cry to the nation so the population will rejoice with elation
That it is time to remove the isolation caused by the simulation
Simulation of free vocal amplification
Illusion and contagion of the authority’s rules and regulation
Solidification of these false ideals and therefore separation
From should be and what is- it’s horrification
The consumer’s attention faces new redirection
Guided meticulously by the producer’s invention
So our ‘choices’ aren’t choices but some chaos prevention
An anarchy intervention
An eluded operation executed by the organizations
A silent one sided war already won by associations, corporations and cooperations'
Verifications of strict policies and legislation
Followed of course by a strong litigation
What a celebration!
For select thoughts and their determination
Then the glorification
Of these upper class suits with some reputation
The voice of the people silenced with their unification
Stifling imagination
Essentially middle and lower robbed of vocalization
De-individualization, crumble fortication
Fine, its come down to this expectation
Of this twisted experimentation of freedom and selection
We’ll Bind together to form a protection of creativity, originality and our own perfection
So let us make this correction:
The one sided war is short lived and our individual minds will prevail, there is no question
For the minority majority will make a distinction
Between the choices given to us and our choices made with intention

The lone wolf mythology is a ego driven shield behind which hides the shy and the wounded;
I have resided in that den of pretend solitude only to rage at the overwhelming loneliness as the need for companionship screamed and beat fists from inside of my chest, the heart hammering at my ribs to be free of its proud prison.

The need for individualization and a removed identity is just another drug to poets and artists; where else to find motivation if not within our personal tragedy still wet from the drink and tears, and blood spilled from hearts never quite mended, soldiers of love who feel in a way the common man cannot, will not, for who better to put pen to paper the raw emotions of man if not those who are lost in their feelings like maggots writhing in forgotten butchered meat, wounds that will never heal yet can only be seen in the wary yet wide open eyes of the addict yearning for the next high, not for the warmth and caring that is love rather for to the hurt and the harm and the inspiration that can be found there.

Parable Fourteen Donítikos: “fourteen vibrations were polarized in the dethronement of Vernarth towards his brother Etréstles, making filial gradation in the possible anti-filial conception of cult and death in whom one is suspended from one to the other under the condemning rhythm of past lives. It is typical of the facsimile of their own Cain-Abel genetic shadow, but of geographical and time-space gradation, which finally brings them together as consanguineous of the same Orbis Alius trunk. Dismissing the no and accessing them to a vibrational anti-Asur (as a healthy and creative mind in Genesis) as energy that manages to restructure itself in any homologation and way in the world of Asur as a son of Shem in Genesis..., as compared mythology and inter-generational, enlivening socio-parental metaphors, pronouncing in cohesion and enchantment of what happens in another similarity of gender or Mental field, staging the probability of a mental Sun that dies in a Super Man and this comes to free us from the bonds of existence and of the earthly plane not reflected in immanent and instance of Aeon, in geological and sidereal lives. The scrolls of this semi-myth, it is subsequent of pendulous scrolls in the arbitrations of our existence for thousands of years, linked to links and human characteristics of knowledge through meta-senses of emotionality and their comparative feeling. The intemperance compensation of matter between the anti-pivot and the life between the two refers to the simultaneous undividedness of each individualization, as a phenomenon lacking in hearing in winter and inclement periods. Here the roar of the retro involutions becomes cloistered in Menatira, daughter of Cránae Queen of Eleusis, Pro Eleusis like the fluff of respite burning both through the steppe of silence. Between them, dodecahedron on an octagon in each one, for each one interpolated in each area when Demeter was looking for his daughter Persephone.

“Etréstles metamorphosed so that Metanira would reunite them with the sub-mythology of their destinies and pre-conception of the elucubration of an abstract spell-breaking ending, which mingled with the element of fire in its irascibility, to await the next season in fourteen toasts followed by Ouzo, goods with intact and distant deities in the life-maturity oscillation, making it after the eleventh Ouzo, in determinism of life and autonomous substances of eternity, under the rude power of the one who has to compensate whoever it is. has Everything and he who will never have it. (Eternal life spell) "

a) Abundance of rain of erythrocytes, to quote the legacy of Bios as any deprivation of self-life, rather for those who yearn for it among a physical trifle alibi...

b) Psujé for Vernarth, "Because whoever wants to save the life of his soul, he will lose it." But he will restore her if he is saved by the muscle of his divine psychology. "

c) Zoé, “radiosity and refraction of etherization and taxation, more than a biological physical body, re-transformed into purging of the higher to the lower, multi-created, but in a Jesuit adjective and a consequent sphere of concatenation towards the plane of the Mashiach as holistic of the human cave ecstasy, in perennial marriage between heaven and earth Ad Aeternum "

(Procorus, self-irrigated with erythrocytes, to deliver them between both, and re-level the levels of erythrocytes of divine blood of the Mashiach, which expected to be re-founded in both brothers of the Vibrational in Fourteen Donítikos or Hellenic Vibrations, with the initial D in the lower ear left and the S in the upper right of the vibrational field of God's Tinnitus with his ears placed in his hands, and lead them by his ossicle and theirs, in the curvilinear snow that vibrates in what He only wants to make them Auscultate)

The grief was intense
in individualization. I walked on
the singed coals due to rain brutality.

Someone comes from
your back after touching Buddha
in sleep. I did it again. Killed my poem.

A speculation. I am
alone. Who lives for others? A toeless
ghost laughs, but walks very fast.

Individualization
                              is praised
                                         instagrammers become the plato of the day
                               But did you ever see yourself
for you are just meat like me.


When did we lose sight of importance.