Im so Alone..     ..... .on my own .
Im bent....Iam spent..... darkness my only friend.
Another secret we will share.
Inot sure when and I dont know where.
But I dont care. Im glad Im there.
It    Whispers  Images that come in waves...
Each appearing  in it own unique way.
In a  vibrant white and yellow glow..
A silhouette of a man...   I do not know.
The outline of a  very high bridge....
That spans across a narrow ridge.
Letters, numbers a bass guitar....
A lined highway road that  goes straight ,very far.

Each image manifests,and dissipates...
into the pitch black, empty space.
Illuminated in electric light.
Shifting shape before my eyes.
They see all ,theyre opened wide.
What happened to gravity.?Why do they glide?


What I thought was a loud buzzing hum...
Accompanied  by the pound of a  drum.
Is  the silence that  echos in  my head.
 It courses my   veins...Like the blood I have bled.
Only it  holds me here instead,as if im incased  in a ton of lead
To  my bed and pillow held under this weight.
 Only I could be fragile glass about to break
Until  I reminded myself that what I feel is fake.
Then my mind is pulled to a quiet hush. 
Where my  head sinks down in  inviting plush

Suddenly I feel as if  I'm floating  in time.....   
Forward yet I'm moving into mine.
Theses images -that  continue to fade in....  
Then changing as it fades right back out again.
 While others make there way with a pop
That flashes  down low and shifts up to the top....
And lingers for a moment til its shape forms  another to take its place.
 What omce  vague I come to realize that what actually fades in and out is  I.
In and out but forward into myself .I wonder how thought  it was anything else.
 Am I in flight or am I floating ...into the images I go through.?
Should I question if what I see if false or true?
I won't look down for fear the view.
It might will let me drop and'.I dont know if I want to start.

As I go forward   into my self I move  on- In this current  Im carried it pulls me  along .
Through a timeless space of nowhere.
Every thing is as meaningful  as it  is pointless  there.
 I m drifting.... I drift in a slow steady pace. 
Not just watching .....but Ive become part of the space 
Not only within.... but all over the place.

Interacting with each scene - that I see - as I glide.
Looking from inside .....but also within.
When what I watch ends....another begins.

As if it is the most normal thing in my whole life
What seems strangely familiar, Is too vague to realize.
While It escapes all  logic  Its so incredibly wise.
I even ask myself not to believe my eyes.
But Im true to myself I tell no lies.?..Not this time....
Not  to me myself and I.
I f  there were times , surely, this is not one.
  I see myself  doing things I've done
 And doing these things.... things I'd never do.
Yet Im continueing to do them all the way through.
And Im feeling the same emotions I see me haveing too.
They come and go as quickly as what surrounds me.
Whatevers around me..
. Laughter, surprise,embarrassment they go on and on.... 
Anger, contentment.....but  I feel mostly mostly calm.
  In a hum of  energy that  sometimes snaps and sparks.
But It continues in motion even when I dont want it.
 In a current pulled away  but within it ....Im on it.

In a flash I stop. It lets me drop...
With that halt - I m in a fall .
Gravity ****** me heavily away.
It pulls my body and stretches my face.....
It tosses my tummy like a carnival ride.
And me, with this awful fear of heights...
Thats when I remember- I know how to fly.
I dont end in a crash....I soar to  the skies....
Im an expert at this I barely have to try.

I feel so safe, so free from harm.Oh great ,Whats the noise coming out of my arm?
I this sound ,'What is it ?
Why...thats my alarm!!!
                       Eyes open wide.What a ride!
MEDITATION Astro glide.
    
                                      

                        ­          -

I watch you slip
farther inot your
misty dark insanity.

You say you want to
rise above the surface
but I find
the darkness is your
security...

So when you feel
like coming back
to me,
your faith,
your God,
just look in
the mirror
at my eyes
staring back at you...
smiling.

we'll do it

.
BAC twenty-fifteen
You're which we're gonna beat
Yes we could
Even we should
Isn't that understood
I think it's so cool
You are coming
And we are fighting
Flying,feeling
And also swimming
In our dreams
Wanna exchange it, to reality
Without stop, without even pity
Yeah we have to fix it
To hurry and do it
'cause we've our special dynamite
I mean our clever minds
Which are dynamic
So, we do not worry
We don't panic
This is our lorry
And no one can drive it
Am Inot right ?
In all what I said
We all wanna fight
By our smart heads
And now with the advices
Or we say the rules
Which might not be understood
By a lot of fools
Nothing to play
No time for fun
This is a closed place
No way to run
Do not be shy
We don't wanna someone cry
In the final day
In the real place
Where everyone have to brave
It's just five days
We must care
But we mustn't be scared
We have to revise
Without fears, without horrors
Just open your eyes
And pray for your lord
Obey your mother
And also your father
They will stay
Besides you together
Believe them forever
Whatever, and however
They always pray for you
A lot, not just a few
The same with your teacher
Do not be a cheater
'cause you're deceiving yourself
Check your real note
To see either you are
In need of help
Or you are
In the straight road
Eat a healthy food
It will help you
To revise good
Now is everything understood
I am praying
Allah always with us
I am seeking
His merciful for us
Dear GOD
Please forgive all what
We have done
No matter what
little or strong
Was our faults
Dear GOD
Help us, especially this year
Please, please yearn
Us when we gonna be tested
And also that day
when the results will be announced
because in ourselves
we all have faith
dear GOD
please, do not upset our hope
we wanna feel cool
when we'll return home
after seeing our results in school

Yes, indeed that is what it must all come down to. The battle of our spectacularly mediocre existence and work. The constant struggle between good and evil. Those who realise this see what it is that the universe has been wishpering to us from the very beginning that it is all we must do. It is the very force that drives it all. Like the oxygen into our lungs that gets released inot the blood stream, totally nessery for our movement and survival. But alas it has been faded. In the now in which we live it ha been tainted by scewd by a few in power, They rob us of what it is to be GOOD AND TURN US INTO parasites who must consume and own. This is evil and has cause only death and pain to the human race. The population of which so vast as if we are mini planets. We all revolve around something. We all have a meaning, a purpose, a sun which warms us and keeps of alive. Yet we all have a moon that brings darkness and beauty heart breakingly simotainously. Our loves and friends our neighbouring planets, part of our solar system. Everything, every aspect of the universe must order itself into these formations. It is law. The skeliton, the psyisics behind why such things must be leak out into everyones life everyday without a single exception. The rule is simple. Life our experience is the universe. Beautiful yet dangerously chaotic. Sallowly disorganised but like each drop of water in a river it has a path which it must flow down dispite the rapids. Those who can make the connections have only one hope to be free. That is to see things in their essence. To value all life no matter how big or small as life in a vast universe is a perious maricle and we must start by honering our own. Then understandly reaching our hands out to others.
Be good.

if i thought that prostitutes coming in at £2 per minute was bad... that's £120 per hour... the "engineers" at my local bicycle wholesaler come in at... £10 for 5 minutes work... changing the tube of a deflated tire... to hell with that... i'm going to invest in some tools... do it myself... walking past the shops in the mall while it rained... work... loitering... work... loitering... why is retail so... undermining the body? oh... i imagine escape with the mind is no good either... work as loitering... flick of the switch... it's hardly construction site antics of roofing... i'd sooner hang myself... but it's not like i can **** myself off... it's great that both she and me can boast about keeping personal hygiene to a zenith... complete shock when she performed ******* with rubber... pleasant shock... about five storms brewed in the sky over London while i hit a flat tyre near Rainham... well... what to do? walk the **** back... 4 miles...  but a thought arose...

i've heard this complaint... several times...
it's worded in many variations...
but the gist of it has the following words
arranged, thus:
i don't want to "merely" exist... i want to live!
Frankenstein had the same bother...
perhaps Frankenstein's angst makes sense
since it was conjured up by a woman...
while Frankenstein is burdened with existence:
per se...
he still pursues "life"...
ex-instance: out of, every - every(!) instance...
i was taking out the garbage:
massive freak for recycling...
i usually put out a ratio of 4 to 1...
orange recycling bags to one... slim... black...
bin-bag of recyclables...
i'm currently someone else's *****...
Pimm's... i'm pretty sure some ancient
Greek philosopher had a saying about
drinking someone else's alcohol...
oh... it's ease now...
but i know what i'm looking for...
it's only that much easier:
Diogenes the Cynic...
oddly enough it makes sense...
i feel like an English girl teasing her virginity:
long... long ago lost...
teasing with white lies...
talking nonsense during ***...
i **** like an animal: mute...
well.. if she let's me ******* inside of her...
oh... it happens once every half a decade...
do "they" have to speak during
*******: last words most poignant
where: in her bedroom...
'what would my father think
while i'm ******* you off...'
do i look like Oedipus... dearest Electra?
talk is beyond cheap during *******...
how about you show me your tongue...
as almost forever:
my eyes turn into two mouths...
my mouth turns into a socket
whereby my tongue becomes an eye...
while my head is sliced open
and a grand ear is lodged into the space
once occupied by fast-phlegm-of-brain:
freeze: i can remotely remember a 10 year old
moi leveraging the following statement:
i can't hear silence...
those words: exact...
i can't hear silence...
god i love to drink... what lot of life...
i love drinking more than:
perhaps if i loved ******* more i'd have
all the grazed knees and greased elbows
to go forth: into the world... with a pledge
of Darwinian beauty to: stare down
the stereotypical male archetype of:
spreading my d.n.a.
that one Thai surprise i picked up on a park
bench... enough strong beer
and enough jazz and she was... sloppy ***...
she even gave me a totem to remember
her while i dressed her in my shirt she
disappeared into while walking her home...
i ******* into my hand: rather than into her...
last time i checked Darwinism has no
place in the Freudo-Jungian schematic of
the atomised man...
consciousness is a flimsy affair...
given any focus for thought: ought-i? ought-i-not?
but still the angst of Frankenstein...
such burdens from mere existence...
such burdens that have to be translated
into... the pursuit of life...
me? i'm at the opposite end of the spectrum...
whatever happened when
Jason v. Michael took place...
well... what happened when
Frankenstein's (monster) took up a challenge
with Sisyphus...

it's the same old complaint:
by people who... come to think of it...
will not squeeze that much out of life
should they arrive at: "living" and not merely
"existing"...
however...
like today... with a flat tyre...
watching the sky for the direction
of the opera in the sky:
there was the thunder...
like a grunting... grumbling...
an empty... fasting stomach in the sky...
no lightning... i walked wishing to be struck dead
by a stroke of hey-zeus...

i remember that i exist:
more than i project the fact...
i remember that i exist...
more than i project that i do...

it has to be a mantra akin to: memento mori(a)...
by then it's impossible to love
or assert a posit for life
within the grounds of: well... it's not like
this will ever end...
watching the gymnastics: women... mostly...
no sorry ****** would attempt to undertake
the beam...
oh look... no need for only-fans:
but if all you're selling is...
selling bodygood-me-body-good-you...
that's fine...
what these girl gymnasts do...
what female tennis players get up to...
do girls really need to box?
**** it... let's see...
i'm asking for a compost of...
plum cherry and a prune...
i'm not going to paint those archaic
faces... dissolved under a niqab... just on a whim...
if they want a cat fight without nails all
manly: fists clenched:
let them... have... it!

i still don't understand the "underbelly" of
an argument that says:
existence is less than "life":
life's ****...
a flat tire and walking 4 miles while i
could have cycled 10 miles more
reduced me to a silence of the mind that re(a)d:
don't even bother thinking...
don't even try turning this inot
a cognitive narrative...
where's your pen? where's your paper?

all the greatest poignancies of essence
of life are encapsulated within the posit "bloopers"
of existence: per se...
life is ****... life is trivial...
i exist without pardon:
i recoil at seeing a maggot or a snail
or a spider...
my beginnings are hardly...
******* anaemic tadpole...

      to merely grasp the fact of existence...
will Frankenstein's monster argue:
subsequently: a life is necessary...
the life... well we all know what
the upper echelons of society prescribe:

let's be mean: "us": the poet gets... **** all...
the restaurant critic gets...
an umbrella for the rain...
paid load: newspapers...
toilet-paper should cost more than...
what weekend newspapers have to offer:
lazily bypassing dialectics...

i exist... a fact i remember from time to time...
i exist: it's not something i project forward...
life's... life is... pretty much **** in between...
but how people complain:
the mere fact of... midnight air...
while cycling to the brothel...
no... breathing itself: taking a ****...
that's not enough...
even eating... not enough...
the joys from the spices...
the cinnamon... not enough:
people, just... want... "life"...
by life... that implies invoking other people
to share your: "presence":
by that time... the people of want...
are... wanton... i don't want to be surrounded
by people who...

reminding oneself of being the recipient
of existence...
is... well... life fulfilling: in-itself...
i might not fly a F16 fighter jet...
or... make a cosmic trip to the moon...
but... i can provide a rhythm to
the pulse of a roundabout when i engage
with it on a ******* bicycle!
i like using much larger objects to my advantage...
a bus will sloth out from the starting
grid much slower...
what do i do?
i linger behind... i can match up its momentum...
fun fun fun...

within the categorization of "life" counter
"existence": by life i probably have to imply:
"essence"... and all that debacle:
does essence come before existence
or does existence come before essence?

i don't care much for "life": life is complicated:
life is drama... life is soap opera engagement...
life is disappointment...
existence... on the other hand...
reminiscence... spontaneity...
the full acquisition of the faculty of memory:
it's not that i must remember that i'm:
worm-food... i must know it...
knowledge of death must be burning at
my ******* groin...
it's not good merely focusing on memorising
that fabric of future events:
to remember death implies:
reincarnation... i'm not a big fan of reincarnation...
reincarnation implies:
zombies and only a fixed number
of worthy people jumping from body to body...
it implies:
the soul as being parasitical...
all of animation being parasitical...
this animation will never transcend
beside mere body toward a collective pursuit...

sure... call it something else...
if not soul then sigma or anima...
if you've ever seen a dead body in the morgue...
you'd know: this façade...

eh... i love to drink... i love to drink because:
even though i've love to **** a little bit more...
drinking never leaves me disappointed...
perhaps somehow... melancholic...
at the introspections i find...
to **** like the prowess of a game stallion...
that would require... doing the bidding of
other people... including myself:
i like to drink in order to undermine myself...
so drinking comes first...
******* comes second...
ambition is... long gone by the time i sieve
through all the music i want to listen to...
the books i want to read... sometimes i do:
read the books i want to... read...

hmm.. ****... humpf..
she has like a Lamborghini... a stomach like
a Genie...
what could existence possibly afford me?
the scent of cinnamon...
the taste of pint of Guinness...
a well constructed curry sauce...
life... on the other hand... "life":
a persistence of disappointment...
that i might have to share all these pleasures...
halve them...

why did it arrive in the mind of the most
atomised man that: essence comes prior
to existence?
there's nothing essential about existence...
there's only the existential existence...
scrap heap of: go toward the fabric of:
the in-between...
lately i stopped minding inter-racial
breeding antics...
given 2nd or 3rd "half-caste" inter-breeding:
depends on a woman's disgruntled taste...
wash up on the shores
of the sandpaper cliffs...
still not pickling ******* symbols in the juices
of ****...

you come across sandpaper skin...
these mulattos will fizzle out...
but i get it... if i were strapped to a whitey
beached whale... i'd want to be black...
otherwise all this... little bit of me...
cycling losing weight makes...
absolutely no... sense...
how did the black guys phrase it back
in high-school: more cushion for the pushing...
no wonder... if i were acquisitive of a 12"
phallus... i'd want... enough ***
to penetrate for her thrill: met...

hence my ***** envy disappears...
i'm left with beard envy...
oh god... chest and the whole worth of torso
a pirate's envy of kidding with pepper...

'i want to live! i don't want to merely exist!'
can one, merely...exist?
oh sure... one can live:
without ever once reaching for
clarifying what's essential to be alive...
to exist? i'm pretty sure that's missing on most people...
i like to rub my fingers on bricks...
tarmac... before i enter a brothel
and touch a *******'s body...
i like to impress myself with the sensation
of imitation: blind... when i read her body...

such that it makes sense...
the verve: lucky man...
a sing-along sort of a song...

let it flow: allow the walking abortions: oh wait...
too late: already conceived...
but thank god for the Olympics...
the male swimmers have the sexiest bodies...
not the sprinters... the swimmers...
much ado about the torso...
but it's so gladdening watching the Olympics...
all body: shapes and sizes
are... sized up...

the body build-up to swim
is not the same sort of a body
associated with lifting weights...
or performing judo...
or sprinting... or undertaking the high-jump...
if one British athlete decides to "take the ******* knee":
Olympics is ruled by a spirit of: all-inclusivity...
you testify racism at the Olympics...
you testify that... Jesse Owens didn't make
****** uncomfortable at the 1933 Olympics...

you bring your politics to the Olympics:
you best cancel Olympics...
sure... take the knee...
take two... i'll gladly kneecap you while
you're at it... just to make sure you forget
both running at a sprint... or walking...
black racists  will not undermine
a healthy atmosphere of:
some of us are born lesser...
some of us are born superior...
all of us aim at managing what we're best at...

me, drinking... no... i hardly think anyone
can match up to me...
i persist to drink yet retain a pedantic attitude
in relation to spelling, punctuation...
i say: ******* from posit A...
rekindle... eastern Africans... Kenyans...
are much darker than western Africans...
Nigerians... no wonder that among
the macaques i was admiring...
ivory beauties...
i forgot their skin colour:
coconut oil in the moonlight...
i was reminded of their teeth and the sclera
of their eyes...

itchy... ******* itchy... i'm so itchy...
itch after itch... i'm itching... itchy...
     itchy... i'm galvanized by some ulterior motif
of a reflex i won't be able to control..
i'll plead: not-guilty....
not because i am...
                  but to conjure enough
dissonant-custard of...
readily accessed pie-bypass that: i will not:
readily give... itchy... itchy... always with this
*******: itch!

The  modern slave  

We al stand and cheer with every  life we see always helping others and making sure love and life  comes to all those who wait.  Live is life is everything but hope is hard to find  while the man walks down a ragged road earning every penny  pushing his  hands down the  ***** pit  of life.
A woman walks into the despair of  work and sees  a  life of slavery in every respect  working for a poor wage and down by a manager that loves ttheri money and power of sitting and thowing their hands about  and mouth opens uttering words  of of anger   and hate.  the woman works her  shift  and  and falls onto a   bed of exaustion abd ready for  night to end and day to begin  another  miserable  pit of salve  at the  shop of hell.
A couple walk in  to the  hell of  hope and look around with their gold rings and  smile of  greed while they look around at the poor souls  of despair working  for a  whip of  greed. The couple  walks towards their  big limousine  and thow the odd change at the beggar across the road and inot  the car back to their manson of love and money of cold to sit back and laugh at the worlds misfortune  of life.

produced and written by wayne mockler
copyright wayne mocker

i woke up with a thought...
funny...
   so Louis XIV
built a palace...
yes, a non-defensible
                     versailles...
while            Пи́тер
founded
Санкт-Петербург
                   on a whim...
and...
               some variant
of my own included "other"...
kin...
              the stamping,
the footwork,
         the tirade of tango...
     right...
       so... "where's my money"?
crypto...
              comment section
banter...
                 the people expecting
to be paid....
  paid... for... what?
vulture journalism?
     eastern european work
ethic started to climb its way inot
the general stratum...
        "we" already know
why Britain left the European
Union...
   keep the **** paedophiles...
limit the entrty of eastern
european workers...
          imagine if Kiev joined
the club!
           w'ooh ooh h'oo!
smashing a mirror
7 times before
the superstitious maxim
started to kick in!
    i might be considered
hibernian...
   outer-land outside
the statrum of the Benelux
dictum...
           me? fame?
i can tell you what uber looks
like in russia...
          the make-shift taxi
you're taking?
  it's not driven by
a serial killer...
   the first time i ever took
sight of the Baltic sea?
when i was visiting Stockholm...
so from Sweden,
everything appears
far away...
             me, Europe...
a congested space...
a constipated ideology
ready to be born mongrel...
of counter nationalism
with its continentialism...
     i could be worse off
being a tabloid journalist
blank space basher....
   fun, free...
              me and a blank
space... or for clarification's
worth of a canvas...
              raz, dwa, trzy...
   nibbling on the germanic
psyche...
        like an invasion
of the asiatics
without the tokyo
inhibitions of
actor, faked, politeness...
an answer by a satellite
people,
    having to celebrate
a century of independence...
my bad...
       i forgot to celebrate
such an event...
  lodged myself into
the use of english...
       can i simply be the person
who forgot to ask
people for money?
           money, what?
writing poetry?!
huh?!
   doktor zhivago?!
sure:
and the song too
by neon neon...
     great movie...
what?!
         vulture journalism?
         people are
allowed to sieve through
the crap of others
and expect, an expectation's
fee?

              hello,
  slander,
hello "riddling" the "other"...
the plateau...
and the skint...
  hello basis: membrane
and... buffer zone...
  hello...
                
        i already know my status:
alien...
                 against
the polyglot invitation...
yeah... i am alien...
  foreign, parasitically ridden...
is it just me,
or too few polyglot
geniuses
ever leave their
metaphysical confines
and experience their
ability as tourists?

             Louis the 14th
only envisioned a legacy
via a construction
of a palace...
                Peter the Great
decided to make
his legacy,
  worth the sediments
of a city...

               guess who's being
overlooked;
   let's overlook this
lazy affair,
of sore words,
to a wounded realism
with no alleviation.