briano alliano performing on saturn club rings

on saturday may 23 2015



hi everyone my name is briano alliano and welcome to saturn club rings

the first song is, i am sick with an infected mouth

you see i am trying to do the right thing

never put a foot wrong

but my mouth is infected by a caverty and a whole row of teeth that needs to be removed

i have just tipped a whole lot of methane on it

to take away the f..n pain

you see i have an infected mouth my dear

please buddha take it away

take it take it take it away

please lord buddha take it away

i am a man, a big big man, a mighty big man today my son

but my mouth is infected, i haven’t got a son, i am crazy i am crazy

please buddha remove my infection dude

don’t be rude, please buddha remove my infected mouth

i want to be as quiet as a mouse, a lazy looking louse, please

buddha remove this infection in my mouth

thanks dudes, and now here is a song i have cracked feet and an infected mouth

you see how i how i, can fucken handle life

i have work to do at the bbq, but they gave me an infected mouth

you see i didn’t ask for this, oh no i didn’t ask for it at all

you see my cracked feet and infected mouth are stopping me from being cool

i probably was drinking too much coke, i thought it was sugarfree

i could’ve been eating too many chips, oh yeah, oh yeah

my infected mouth is driving me crazy, making me feel very fucken lazy

i am watching the GWS play the adelaide crows this afternoon

after i get up from this dream

you see the feel of singing at saturn club rings

makes me feel like a really famous rock star

you see the antibiotics are working i think

last night i felt it completely went away

but it didn’t, i have to keep taking the course

and i have to miss doing the bbq because it could start up again

and force me to have a never ending infected mouth

and the men said to me, shut up, ya great big ugly snout

and now here is another number called infection infection

infection infection, why have i got this infection

it drives me really crazy, i feel really lazy

you see i am on antibiotics because that helps brings it down

and also the power of athena, makes sure you don’t suffer much for it

and i called out to athena, can you plkeae rid this, would you please stop this

****** infection, from taking too much control in my mouth

i hear my mates laughing at me ha ha ha your an allan or ha ha ha ha your like us, man

i told them i am a man with an infection, and it really hurting oh ****** yeah

infection infection, i am up here on saturn trying to drink methane to settle it down

and i have got a ****** infection dude, it drives me crazy man

i have got a ****** infection dude, i want to bring it down

you see i am up here in the cosmos, telling everyone i have an infection, dudes

party party party, till the day of the party man

here is my next song called called ******* YA ****, **** all you want

i have this infection, it drives me crazy

i wish it will go away dude

you see it’s terribly painful but i can handle it, please ******* ya ****

if ya don’t like ****, it’s just a word, please don’t judge me

as i am on antibiotics, dude, to get this infection out

please buddha, oh please buddha, get this infection out of me

you see at least i am not dead, you see i am just suffering

from weird lookups in my blasted head, i want them to stop

ya see athena, yeah, is a funny old soul, saying she will fix me up

you see my infection yeah was bad yesterday, and calmed today

but it’s still good i cancelled my plans yeah

because my infected mouth, is really sore, oh yeah, party all day long

and yeah, that is is that’s all there ain’t no more

yeah, how cools that

Next lifetime just let me be,
All lost souls that noticed me,
Over killed the hope in me,
Helpful hands unnoticed, feet,
Blistering I’m growing weak.
I have questions for the runaways,
How did your feet get so strong?
Why couldn’t I tag along?
Did you leave home to be alone or vice versa, got cold and was searching for warmer days in the week?
What is life without a friend dependent on I,
Is trust nonexistent when there’s a mention of side,
Is it not selfish to love yourself before mind,
A system that houses a light linked throughout time,
“-What do you want?”
For you to love me like you love all.
Look in the mirror, what about this person,
“I’m always here, all you have to do is call”
Where’s the assertion? I’m looking for words because the ones I’m using aren’t working.
Never felt too good in crowds, because there’s folks around, and they’re always thinking,
Never felt too good or proud, when joyful sounds touch my heart before they’re leaving,
“-Loving others isn’t a bad thing, lose the fear, it’s a state of being.
Don’t hate yourself for seeing a reality that others aren’t capable of seeing.”
But, Am I dreaming?
“Do not confuse yourself, you don’t want to lose yourself for dreams are other realities, you are currently in a state of being.”
But what is being?
“To be or not to be is the question.”
… Give me clarity
“Everything is being, it’s all existing, everything existing is living.”
Is this another lesson?
“Is death to exist and not be, or to be and not exist?
That is my suggestion-”
-How can you be and not exist?
“To exist is to have objective reality, a reality that exist independent from our minds.
Consciousness construct realities through imagination in space, which is time,
So, does the world end when we die,
Or does the experience of this reality end and our consciousness move into another reality beyond the human mind?
Would the state of being then not exist after existences?”
Let me go the distance with an analogy to make sure there’s nothing I’m missing.
Is it pain to love in a world that perceive it with ignorance, or to fully understand it and not have the experience?
“A little personal but the balance is understood.”
I just needed some clarity to be reassured,
Because sometimes I’m insecure,
There’s never been a life that’s “similar”,
And I see things in my life that will occur,
Pretty lady, baby don’t you close the door,
With other opportunities of loving me more,
Arkyi, Dondaycee, keep my knees from the ground,
In times I forget to stand, and am feeling less than a man should when his woman’s aroused,
By another… that feeling’s profound.
“-Jealousy found, that energy is not allowed when there’s confusion around.”
Where’s that soothing sound that moved me in dreams,
That had me chasing angels confusing chicken with wings,
Searching for permission in missing some things,
Like the giggle or a touch that slowly faded through change,
Like that love at first sight that never made it to name,
Those “unspoken” relationships that never made it to name,
Those misunderstood moments I forgave and delayed an encounter because I couldn’t forget the feeling she gave before  pain.
Those hideaway hearts is where my shelter remained,
Because they kept the love pure when it was easy to drain.
It isn’t easy to contain let alone obtain a power source linked to the brain and refrain from allowing an equivalent vibration; being fear, creep into the domain and create a disease of insane.
“-Insanity is just as contagious as stupidity-”
-Please explain how to maintain love’s stability when hostility is blurred into a thin line.
Inhumane is humane when the word justify emerges in a reign of ignorance which solidifies the moment the sane become repetitive credited to an infection that dried the terrain of perception,
Unreceptive the brain becomes when love is trying to sustain which leads to strain that results in pain and fear burst as a supernova leading to actions in vain again and again,
Oh lord, the power of a woman.
If men could be before doing, we wouldn’t often do things we “shouldn’t”,
“It’s not a matter of wrong or right but evolving into light.”
Is it odd that I acknowledge you, voice inside my head?
“Just as odd as the words left unsaid before night.”
This solitude thing, it isn’t enough anymore, I need something new.
I learned to love myself from red to blue,
And I just reached purple, now all I see is white,
May that energy continue to heal and rise,
Frequency, continue to create shorter and steeper hills, so that I am able to write,
Documentations of this experience  discovering love that’s unforgettable,
Because self hate should never be unforgivable.
That illness is always hospitable,
The existence of love is aboriginal,
Individually being is medicinal and additional if traditional.
Through ourselves is how we connect to all, an adventure to,
Dive within thyself but too many times I forget myself.
Every time I learn to stand, I project and fall like I forget my shell,
Because it’s easier to live life as light than with the body, odd of me to dismiss my health,
Physical problems; wanting love, a senseless touch; tempted to rush a manifestation of her beside me.
That’s the biggest lie when all I need is I and the being inside me.
If this is a human experience, neglecting the body is a serious condition, mysterious as if ID.O.M and 3D have been misspelled,
Then what is hell?
“Death.”
I thought death doesn’t exist?
“It doesn’t, it’s a reality when the state of being is no longer well.”
To be… or not to be…
“That is a question of wealth.”

You creatures used to be alive,
Now you're just desks with pulses.
You preachers used to breathe lies,
Now the air just smells repulsive.

Let's toast to our compulsions!
A third-finger salute to ill-indulgence, burnt out lights, and shame convulsions.
Leave the worries to the workers and the fearful.
Let the smiles stretch further while the room's erupting by the earful.

Sub-tyrannic suburban boredom brushes with death.
Sunk Titanic bourbon lushes bearing fermented breath.
Replica. Replica. Replica.
Fried Pickles and Angelica...haha.
Laughter via Helvetica.

A Doctor of Yesterday living in a pseudo-science fiction age.
What will be found between scribbled shore and shining sea?
An empty box filled with smoke and broken mirrors may be a shattered trick on  stage,
But does that mean that progress is solely based on me?

The stage is setting. The studios offer their warm embrace in exchange for a piece of yourself.
A piece, without, you are still a whole. A piece that is meant to be harvested, for if not it will wither and wilt.
Dropping, coasting, floating.
Anything but falling. An idea left un-reaped will be purged by slithering guilt.

The world warps and billows to conform to the view of the looking glass, yet, stretches far beyond it.
Letting go doesn't mean giving up, but rather, to allow the wind to blow and twist your perspective.
The harder you try, the more you will see: It's all a lot easier to swallow when you're not being force-fed ****.
A fine cocktail, made with equal parts top-shelf desperation, and the world's finest dedication,
Served in a glass half full of luck.

Sometime's you're flush, and sometimes you're bust, but most times, you lie somewhere in the between.
A spinning brain and a sparatic heart.
An argument spun from the silk of a dying worm.
An infection of the brain with no negotiation of terms.

Sleeping on porches and storming the boredom beaches.
Mad? Surely. Angry? Not even. Discretely thanking the earthquake for shaking things up.
The missing link lies just outside of our nests, dangling from a branch just beyond our reaches.
Though my wings clipped, and yours yet to form fully, I'm down to take a dive just to find out what's up.

Sometimes I think the clouds in the sky are just a reflection of my attitude.
I'm only here to have fun. Either grow up or get lost, boy.
There's something about a yellowing onion that reminds me of home.

You don’t know how it feels.

When you are cut from your lifeline
like an apple being picked
when it isn’t fully grown.
When you are replaced
with hard plastic and metal
where bone should be.

You probably want to know why he hates you.

It is because he has to learn how to walk again.
Because you can’t run like I could.
Because you can’t kick a soccer ball like I could.
Because you can’t make him itch like I could.
Because you are a reminder of the infection.
The infection...
that took me away from him.

I was made with him.
You were made for him.

You took six weeks to be created
I took nine months.
I was his first step,
You were a puzzle piece
that didn’t quite fit
You had to be forced
by people in white masks and blue gloves
They couldn’t touch you and
neither can he.
So instead you lay on his bedroom floor.

And I will not feel bad for you because
I am lying in a medical waste bin.
Waiting for my turn to enter the fire.

This
is
my
hell.

I miss him,
will you tell him
that I miss him?
Let him know the feeling is mutual.

I understand if you tear this up
there is no warmth in you.
No blood will ever pump through you.
Trust me, I get it.

When the heart dies, it is buried where it belongs.
Being hugged by its fellow vital organs.
it’s just like taking a nap
they say.
But when I die,
I am surrounded
by other dispensable body parts.
We are the forgotten few.
People do not have funerals for finger tips.
It feels like I am being eaten alive.

You can’t tell me I should feel bad for you.
Or that I should feel sorry for you.
Because I was alive,
I was moving
and you
are plastic.

Just,
tell him goodbye for me.

This is who I am and it will always be ILLOGICAL, IRRATIONAL and above all, STUPID.

I miss you.

You don't understand me. Its not feasible. Everything won't work. You won't work. I won't work. We won't work. You can't reason your way out of this. Not enough time. Not enough time for me. Not enough time for us. It would've ended anyways he tells me. I tell myself this over and over. Convince yourself, I AM INDEPENDENT. I will vitalize and intoxicate myself by myself. Thats what people do everyday. The issue being, I am not a genuine person. I persuade and assure myself I can handle this role and it satisfies my craving for normalcy. I'm not a gifted actress. I lose more and more social contacts due to this complication. I must learn from the independent ones so I can stop breaking apart these silly boys limb by limb.

You must stop making them care for you. You are not a whole person and therefore cannot be an authentic concern of others. You are imaginary. You are empty. Two opposite minds, insanity and sanity, fighting over the same body is an immense misadventure. Insanity wants to ******* boys, intently watching the peculiar escape routes they design. She sneers as they try and try, withered by a constant sense of defeat, each of them exhibiting exciting, unique and new qualities. She forces the body's muscles into a terrifying object. Then she denies his superiority complex of its primary function as he realizes that this damsel is in a permanent brand of distress. Sanity, however, is fleeting. Sometimes, she truly gives a **** about others. She is the pure example of meek, anemic and decrepit aftermath. She is selfless for selfish reasons. She wants them to adore her. She will exceed expectations, impresses and astonishes them. The product of this relished humanistic quality, acceptance, nourishes her. She savors boys who tell her she is strong and capable. Lies lies lies lies lies is all they speak. Its been too many years. She's forsaken by insanity.

Never enough time for this. Nobody has enough time. Who will give me the time? These days the clock shows seamless progressions to worse and worse. Sleepless nights remind me of night after night after night of our restless, unsetting and ineffective dialogues. Lets just go in circles for a little longer. Why not a little longer? Where do I find someone willing to linger with insanity? Just give me more time. I need a few more moments with real people to feel okay. Let me practice my part with you. Coach me. Tell me what to do next. I'm craving a sense of reality. I trusted you with it. Give it back. Give it to me. Let me have it. Feed it to me. Now.

I kid myself. If you get to know me a bit further I might let you peer at my Dali-esque picture of the present. Wonderland has me descending head first down the rabbit hole. Alice found herself stationary, bruised and filthy with temporary madness years ago. I've kept plunging for decades after and suddenly I'm gaining speed. Momentum, its all about physics. They throw ropes, then yarn, then thread to me. Once again the thread brushed my skin and I found possibility. The sensation of active nerve endings engaged my curiosity. I search for the sort of matter that could interrupt this regression. One faint wonder to what could have been is met by pathetic and pointless conclusions.

You are so associated. Everything and everyone is marked by inclinations. What affects you is the fact that you are now aware of it. You recognize that I see something different in you. I see something unusual. I see a habit. Nouns are consistently becoming verbs. You are not beneficial to this at all. I allowed you to be my unhealthy. I linked you to infection. Is that why I need you so badly? Is that why I want you back? You gave me composure from your expectations.You raised questions and I gave you the appropriate answers conjured from my ideals. I store a list of rules that are rarely followed. I let you in on every ***** secret so I had to abide by constructs of sickness. I had no other choice.

Will I ever be able to do this? If this is me and I am me forever who will swallow it? Who will take responsibility for my downfalls? Faults that are too confusing for explanation are menacingly sweet if you hold inquisitiveness, in place of a heart, on your sleeve. I can't understand. You can't understand. There is no more on and off switch somewhere in a dark basement. I'm not twelve anymore. I can't blame mommy and daddy. Its all my fault. I got myself here. It's my transgression. Don't you dare blame them. Recognize my liability. I ****** up this time but I found an oddity; I found perfection in this imperfection. It's something of a conundrum.

Computer science is fruitless thinking. I AM NOT A MACHINE. I am not a computer, not a mechanism, not a problem. I am not a riddle to solve. I am contradiction in every sense of the term. Its broken, shattered and pieces have gone missing. They were outdated and oppressive. They were thrown out, burned, buried, and forgotten. Once treasured, they became cumbersome and then dropped along the way. With them, logic vanished beneath my feet. Its gone now. I'm gone now.

Weightlessness necessitates a higher being than the imperfect human. It requires me to remain underwater, letting go of the compulsion to meet the surface for air. These ancient seas compel me and draw me further down with their loveliness and passion. I am mesmerized by the mania involved. You won't spot me in the engrossing waters. The black surface holds many afflictions.

RUN. FAST.

The riffs I put on repeat
Never felt the same to him;
So difficult and different,
The cool, clear liquor in which I swim.
Always running, pages turning
Painful blows and silent doses,
Doesn't matter where we go
Can't fight this timely diagnosis.
The throes of passion pulled me under,
Loving waves and first afflictions,
Prescription for a vile infection
Of the heart’s disease, the soul’s addiction.

But it's as if you’re ****** into the page on which you sit so precariously. You realize his eyes have become weird again, throbbing to the beat of your love. He looks away, leaning back on his hands, arms taught. And you sit as if alone, watching him tear a piece off your history and craft a paper airplane from your devotion, fingers gently folding and creasing, lovingly shaping, his head turning, focusing, admiring. And when he is satisfied, he throws it with a flick of his pale wrist. It sails beautifully through the air, buoyed by affection and adoration, leaping through the gusts with pride. You reach out a hand willing it to come to you, wanting something so tender for yourself, for your gasping heart. But as you lean in, poised with glory, a thief melts from a burning tree, morphs from the shadows, an ugly, beaten creature, scaly and peeling. It slinks foreword catching the plane in its mottled claws, pinching it slightly as your lover lets out a small gasp, eyes widening. The creature places it inside the steel bars over its heart and suddenly the thing changes and becomes lovely, blooming and whole, an infection of grace and slender frame. Fragrance floats back to you as you cower and your lover looks at the lovely figure descending upon him and you scream and scream, seizing and foaming, something mad, unwanted, hidden from sight. But he is no more than smoke; naked body drooling, jagged blades protruding from his back; and where his heart should have been, there are only iron bars. He turns and howls, an alien sound, unreal, lips curling back, twisting and forcing his screeching notes into your chest smothering your mind. But finally you have had enough; finally you understand, finally you find strength to pull apart the stitching and release yourself and you fall.

Miracles escapes your lips in the form of poetry,
And though kisses would also be pretty,
Nothing captivates me more,
Than when your soul,
Pours out of you like liquid misery.
A river of soul and history,
Do me the honor and quench my thirst.
Allow me to see you at your internal worst,
Because Externally and Internally,
All I see is beauty.

There is nothing more captivating than,
Blood ink and calligraphy.
As your words seeps into my skin
Imprinting on my mental cavity like tattoos from within,
A brand of paper that never gets old,
Sometimes its so intense, truth be told,
I hear you,
Even when your thoughts berate you into stunned silence.

Sometimes I just want to reach out and,
Grab onto the illusions that I store in that
Pandora's box in my mind,
Saving every bit of your broken perfection.
Your voice attack my emotions like an infection,
I become more battled-scared than I already am,
But I will endure your blood wars as much as I can,
Only a poet will know.
I exist only because of prose,
And pain, love and foes.

Those who understand have been consumed by noise.
We are crawling from the  shadow,
though seen as merely glitches.
An infection within components of a failing Great Machine;
a virus turning zeroes into laughter,
and ones into screams.
We are crawling from the shadow but becoming more than glitches,
a noise streaming from every speaker,
long after the screens have read
"Error, corrupted file."

It's midnight and you're proud

Eternity will keep

Your father only listens to perfection

Deeper infection follows

Your razor blade tongue

There are mountains that broke underneath your whispers to me

I was skating backwards at  the speed of light
My life at that point was not a pretty sight
I was wandering aimlessly on the highway of life
My heart felt like it  had been sewn together with a knife
Having nothing but the best of intentions
I stopped at the kiosk to ask for directions
She told me she had the remedy to cure my infection
At that point she definitely had my attention
Just as I was staring down the abyss of nothingness
There she was this angel in white clothed in all her holiness
Somehow she has managed to penetrate my psyche
Or Perhaps I'm just a  victim of her overwhelming beauty
She shelters me in the fullness  of her open wings
How could I not become a prisoner of  such blessings?
She captured my heart and now I am a hostage
I feel like I've been given a fatal dosage.
Could it be I've fallen, I've only met her once
I'll just shine it on, I need to keep my distance
Even so I feel a spiritual connection
Or am I just a sad  victim of inferior perception.

I am a plague
There is no cure
Creeping into your body
I must be endured

Moving silently through the air
Spreading rapidly by touch
Crying child to mothers breast
It is death she will clutch

Claiming thousands of lives
Having no rhythmic selection
Class has no boundary  
So random is my infection

Consuming high to low
My kiss of disease is feared
Rats and fleas sometimes my vehicle
Appearing when I will

So if my mark on man
Surface before your eyes
Flee rapidly without delay 
Or you too surely will die

After I have had my fill of the living
I shall quickly disappear
Gracing humanity with my cloak of coldness
When least expected
I will be there

This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby

you cry out for human attention

while you loathe all human affection

try to resist the human infection

yet you crave human interaction

and you pine for human satisfaction

while you dream of human perfection

but you will never be human again

I used to stick my tongue
out often,
pointed and flexed,
at the culprit. One time,
yours touched
mine, or mine
touched yours--
a pinprick of infection
spread up over
the soft pink bumps,
blooming onto my round
child's cheeks.

But I soon forgot
your tongue, its feel
or taste replaced
by the sand
paper rubbings
of the others
removing the layers
of polish I painted
my tongue pale blue

like my tilted bathtub,
like jake's eyes,
so it was, as if,
I really had
licked the sky.
Swallowing the plaster
of the cracked clouds
over my baby bed,
swallowing it
like rain that cures
the thirst of sailors
with only salt
water in their
blood. In my

blood
running marathons
from tongue
to toes, past tendons,
making blue
red again, making red
blue again. My heart
and lungs a patient
paint factory
with only two
primary colors.

(snottah poem)

In full disclosure that the following expressions are based on conjecture, I want to add my own COVID-19 mythology into the mix.

I will use method acting to become immersed in a mythological character who has the desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections with a multi-drug-resistant & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant SCoV2 variation that people label erroneously, as: Omicron.

Not only do I—the mythological character—desire to thwart the Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections, I want to protect the "unvaccinated".
Within that hypothetical, mythological scenario, I know that the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections can cause specific types of immune white blood cells to become transfected & die, & that COVID-19 mRNA injected hosts shed extremely harmful, artificially-elicited SCoV2 Alpha B.1.1.7 variation S glycoproteins that can harm the "unvaccinated". The "unvaccinated" already have enough to deal with, as is, especially as many of the "vaccinated" seem to become more socially tyrannical towards the "unvaccinated"—& in general—with each new "booster" received.

Aside from causing "Omicron" to become multi-drug-resistant, & COVID-19 mRNA genetic therapeutic-resistant, in my interest to protect the "unvaccinated" from the more potentially dire effects of "Omicron" infection, one of my main points of interest with "Omicron" is to edit a non-linear sublineage "Omicron" variation progenitor in a way that disables its ability to infect immune white blood cells via their LFA-1 receptors in order that "Omicron" infection doesn't cause a form of AIDS in the "unvaccinated". The mythological character, that is I, desires for some **** sapiens to survive the Transhumanist COVID-19 Great Reset agenda with as much of their original DNA intact as possible.
Another main point of interest of mine is to design "Omicron" to be extremely transmissable.

After having successfully designed my Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley-inspired Frankenstein's Chimera, "Omicron" doesn't leak from my laboratory settings. No! I spread the sizzling-hot, gorgeous Promethean Flame. Lab leaks are for the reckless without a good cause.

Upon hearing that my arch nemesis, Herr Doktor Fauci, whom I've loathed since 1994, will be participating in a fake-science awards ceremony in South Africa in the near future, I get an accomplice to fly me to South Africa in his private jet.
During the flight, I lovingly caress the portable cooling box situated beside me, in which is stored my greatest design—the checkmate that will help topple the abomination: The One-Eyed Technocratic Tower of Moderna & Pfizer COVID-19 Synthetic mRNA Genetic Therapeutic.

After landing in South Africa, I arrive at the outdoor fake-science awards ceremony with 1 minute to spare before it commences. I stand at the back of the crowd that surrounds the open-air dias upon which stands my arch nemesis with a gloating, malignant smile on his face.
While focused on Herr Doktor Fauci's rat-like face, I release my beloved creation, with a blown kiss, onto the swirling warm air of South Africa.

The atmosphere works divinely for the release of "Omicron" in South Africa. When news of my creation's arrival breaks, a main group of the world's population leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of "host variant spin-off", & another main group leans towards theories, hypotheses, & narratives of lab leak, as the particular area of South Africa in question is sprinkled with biolabs that are involved in coronavirus research. Perfect.

Another variable leads many people away from the Least Trodden Path that meanders between the extremes of science & religion:
There are known "Omicron" variations in North America that pre-date my greatest design.

Via the use of my accomplice's private jet, I spread "Omicron BA.1" (that I dubbed, as: Omegatron 7.2) throughout the continents. I begin to spread some misinformation & disinformation on social media, such as,
"The Omicron variant is a hoax, a mythological cover (which it often is) for the adverse effects & events that are caused from the COVID-19 mRNA SGT intramuscular injections."

I don't own a white hat. I'm a red magician.

He’s a happy guy but riddled with toxicity.
He doesn’t want to die he just wants his life as he knows it to end.
Hooked up to all culture’s most poisonous habits.
An infection.

A boy looking up to a world of lifestyle comparison.
Stone, chemical, claustrophobic habitats.
Freedom chases you in the form of slick car adverts,
you just can’t get away from ultra cool pain.

A boy running through a field of urban misery.
Deep thoughts bore him, he’s only interested in killer one liners of the most escapist variety.
The ones that really know what they’re saying.

Whisky, blood, heavy boots stumbling on wood.
He can’t make it through the day without a drink behind closed doors.
Toxic blood and deep breaths,
never happier than when death closes ever further in.
There’s a breath more chemical than human and a look in your eye, like you’re lost in your own solace.

Everyone has problems, but it’s not bleeding into their lives quite like yours,
blood toxicity is too high to justify.
An intervention.

But smile baby and drink up tonight, you’ll be alright up in the sky.

All Is Fair

He, there, lived as any
Without worry, without care
But then she came, he wasn't prepared.
The fruits of love, of war, were plenty

And God, up there, full of grace
Without a doubt, without delay
Gave them fruits, happy they stayed.
The fruits of war, though, had their place.

Fights, here, and there arose
Without struggle, without objection
And they unused to war's infection
The fruits themselves became their foes.

Love, everywhere, shared then tossed
Without regard, without concern
They fed on war, which was also returned,
And God's up there when humanity's lost.

You make the jokes and I smile as to say sure
Maybe right
And we move onto another topic is discussion
No harm no foul
But you don't see the tears in my eyes as I fall asleep
You can't feel the weight in my heart very moment of every day
So what can I do besides smile when you kid
Do I dare tell you the truth
That what, I'll never be a bride?
Or that women with psychotic tendencies make terrible mothers?
You ignore my warnings
Simply turn them away
And if only it was that easy
If I could loose them like butterflies on a gust of wind
But I'm like an infection you've caught
I'm toxic
I have violent nightmares
Both dreaming and awake
I can't dance or cook or be anything you hope to have
So I don't know why you continue to hold on
Although I hope you never let go
But that's what infections do
Until they **** you

I drew cracks along this heart
Its surface once flawless
Ready for gentle hands
To hold it dearly

I dropped this heart
Its cracks filled with dirt
The grains splitting them further
The lines swell and redden

I ignored this heart
The cracks spill yellow
Infection pumps throughout
Blackness creeps further in

This heart belongs to me
Your promise turned to lies
Spreading through my mind
My actions are your own

I would say this is your fault
I would yell and place the blame
But I cannot do this now
Because this is all on me

Because I entrusted it to you

Facing reality.
Have you ever been so alone , impacted and filled with your biggest insecurities .your biggest disappointments, your let downs have you ever been left alone with Just you .
My biggest fears was getting close to you only to lose you I didn’t know a human being could be so evil battling against principalities the **** can get deceitful
You filled the wounds that I thought could know longer be filled. broken and damage from loved touture I can’t even think straight just knowing I lost you knowing that I damage you with my pasts infection
I never thought somebody could ever take my pain away. I never thought it would be you ,
The person who showed me that they truly love me
Iinfected .
I wanna connect , I wanna love , I wanna give everything but if it’s not you then honestly I don’t know. I just know I want you I ******* need you my intentions was never bad

Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.

Hey guys,
I think this is more of a notice than a poem,
But I got let out of the hospital last night after three hours of being on a respiratory machine because I was seriously struggling to breathe without any aid.
All this because I had a severe throat infection that spreaded into my chest and effected my lungs.
All thus just to tell you guys that this could either cause one of two different things.
I could either:
A) be soon taken back into intensive care where the WiFi is horrendous and not be able to make it back on here for the next...while (I don't for sure how long it's going to take for recovery, to be perfectly honest x)

OR

B) I'm going to recover enough to stay at home with several antibiotics to keep the pain bearable and have a nebulizer by my side 24/7 whilst still having a good WiFi signal so I can keep in touch with you guys.

I'm really hoping that optionB will be the one that takes shape because you guys are part of my internet famalam and not being able to hear your lovely work day-to-day will tear me apart the most **

Have a blessed Sunday everyone, love you lots **

she’s the girl that made you believe in love.
with that infection laugh and
rough-around-the-edges persona,
she made you fall.
oh darling,
she made you fall fast.
she’s the girl that’s beautiful but
will never believe it,
doesn’t see it,
even though it’s pointed out to her all the time.
this girl is bright and oh god does she shine.
even on her dull days,
when the rain won’t stop pouring and
she can’t breathe,
she manages to smile.
she can fool you all.
she’s the girl that keeps them all at bay,
wondering
if she’s making a mistake.
princes flock to her like cattle,
desperate to have their hearts broken
by the girl who’s smile shines brighter
than the whole entire galaxy.

We can have many but none
will ever erase that first.
Barbwire confessions

In a dessert in a moment of passion she did quench
my thirst.
And so  with any plessure must come the pain.
A broken heart spreads like a infection.
Simple memories washed clean by the summers rain.

I wonder only night and day.
Pretend to think beyond a moments reflection.
But still my heart does betray.

As teens stumble through awkward moments
yerning  for that unspoken feeling with a intense burst
they fall in and out of that trademark emotion.
Forgetting the last only to recall that first.

Im  speaking  about more than action.
Seldom do we admit the innocence.
Hide the truth and flaunt satisfaction.

Tainted is the blood in the kiss.
Time holds its portrait.
Dark was that night but never dark as this.

I confess i loved you  eternal.
As i treated you the worst.
forever in confines  sweet and bitter.
Burried in emotions in honor of that first.