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JM Dec 2012
I can't listen to the ******* cure
ever again with out feeling empty.
Way to go robert smith,
you big ******* depressing
*******.

Ever since you told me
lovesong was yours and fuckfaces
song I can't listen to some of my
favorite cure songs without thinking of....them.
Them being you and him, not us.
Us being you and me.

I can't listen to cat stevens
because harold and maude
was our movie. Ours!
Now, the last love song makes me cry like a *****.

I can't listen to ******* inxs anymore.
Never tear us apart drops me to my knees.
I can't listen to the kinks
or edith piaf
or talking heads
or leonard ******* cohen
or great lake swimmers
or fever ray
or peter sarstedt
or portishead
or killswitch engage
or paul mccartney singing maybe I'm amazed
or pearl jam
or ween,
especially ween, one of my favorites, *****.

Gotye is a prophet.

If I even think of antony and the johnsons,
my chest seems to cave in on itself
and I am filled with such a deep despair,
a longing for something,
anything
to take away
the pain of knowing
I lost you.

I can't listen to so much good music out there because that was our thing.
So many times we would lie in bed after loving each other
and listen to mixes we had made for one another.
Those were my favorite times.
Sipping whiskey with lime juice,
Reveling in your smells,
your juices covering me.
Your dog farting so bad
all we could do was laugh
or we would puke.

The first few notes of alexi murdochs
love you more, bring forth tears like niagra.
I cannot listen to that song without crying immediately.

I don't understand how feelings like that go away so suddenly.

It's *******.

This isn't a poem.

Poems are supposed to be beautiful
and about love
or beautiful and about loss of love
or just plain ******* beautiful
about something like a ******* tree
or a nice view
or flowers.

I have to write about how I hate the empty ******* space in my chest whenever I think of your name.
I have to write about the thousandth time I cried over you,
like now.
I have to write about how
the bright blue
of our love was replaced by
the ***** brown of
our lies and deceit.

Nobody gives a **** about that stuff.
I can't write a ******* poem to save my life.
I want to put down on paper
the weariness and exhaustion.
I want to express how I feel
so that maybe I can save
someone else
the pain of suffering alone.
I want to write you the most beautiful poem on the earth,
the one that makes you
understand just how much I care
for you
and how much and I love you
and I want you to read it
and forget about your fears
and past hurts
and realize I am the only man for you
and nobody else will ever come between us ever again.

But I can't.

I am not smart enough.
I am not creative enough.
I am not...enough, for you.

I don't want to even try anymore.
I want to forget you like I said I never would.
I want to love another like I said I never would.
I want to be a liar, like I said I never would.
I want to stop loving you, like I said I never would.

I want to listen to love songs and not miss you.
Yasha Harkness May 2016
Baby when I first saw you
I was giving blood
Your smile wasn’t even directed at me
You made more than just my blood flow.

Baby when you spoke to me
Teeth biting that luscious bottom lip
Something grew in me like certain magical beanstalks
And of course I had to climb that.

Baby when you touched my hand
You steadied me physically
Unsteadied me mentally
Because you were softer than a Johnsons baby.

Baby when you gave me your number
The foundations of my soul shook
I aint saying you were heavy
But you were a weight I’d gladly become Atlas for.

Baby when we kissed for the first time
I was dreaming
It never happened.
And aint that a ******* tragedy.
to the one that walked away
relinquish your anguish
tearing fears of queers
from broken enigmas running
sideways through your flaccid fears
fears of being crushed
the life you live coming
will make you feel rushed
quicker than their needs
clutching to the new grounds
dreaming of distant horizons
burn the remnants bleeding
then all your old plush
can drag to the floor with
pearls, curls, swine before twirls
your life will never be some
toy in another mans flush
flicking twisted sheltered
enigmas into quickened glances
erupt, don't get taken
by your grandparents ideals
their luxuries and ***
blooms and brooms
a diamond-induced numb
the cure for AIDS isnt
in some gun-filled crumb
liquefied dollars injected
into magic johnsons thumb
ball your body into a swish
they send you to space
and backboard back for fun
but Koch wont let anyone
but themselvesilluminatirun
so you run, from
stairs getting taller
and eagles getting balder
until youre flat on sunken
ground dripping like larder
Big Virge Sep 2021
Ya Know It REALLY IS... !!!
England’s STILL A *****... !!!

Linton’s Words of Scripture...
Were Those of Honest Pictures... !!!

That Showed What It Is...
To... Try To Live...
Inna’ English Lands...
When You Are BLACK... !!!

Well Unlike Him...
I Was Born And Raised...
In A Place That CLAIMS...

To Be The... “ GREAT UK “...

Well Britain Or England...
But Now The Ships Sinking...
Because Heads DIDN'T Listen... !?!

To... Linton’s CLEAR Vision...
Cos’ It’s STILL A *****... !!!

A Country FULL of Tricks...
And Working Practises...
That Makes The Masses SLAVE...
To Earn Themselves A Wage...

So That They Can Get A Break...
From Working For Low Pay...

While MP’s Pave The Way...
For... CORRUPTION of The State... !!!

So These Words Here Are TRUE... !!!
... England’s STILL A *****... !!!

If You’re NOT IN... “ Their Crew “... !!!

Bureaucrats Who Sit and Plan...
How To Tax and Scam...
The... Average Man... !!!!

And Let’s Not Forget...
About... Immigrants... !!!

Like Linton Said In His Poem...
They Use You... ABUSE You...
Spit You Out And Then ***** You... !!!

From Legal Tricks...
To... Political Stings...
That’s Right Like BREXIT... !?!?!

Now Ain’t THAT A *****... !!!

Political NONSENSE...
Causing Folks PROBLEMS... !!!

Because of These Wrongun’s...
From BRONSONS' To JOHNSONS'... !!!

NOT Linton But BORIS... !!!
A Chuck With NO Norris... !!!
Whose Talk Can Be HORRID... !!!

So YES It’s A *****... !!!!!

I’ve Just Revamped The Script... !!!
From Windrush' To Brexit'...
We STILL DON'T..... Fit In...

When You THINK And Have Skin...
That’s DARK And Marks Cards...
of The... Whitest Of Hearts... !!!!

UNLESS You Will FOLD...
And Do As You’re Told...
Like Those Good Slaves of Old... !!!!!

From Being Called Lazy...
We’re Still Seen As Shady...

Because of Things Lately...
Like Street Crime That’s CRAZY... !?!

Well I Guess I’m That Baby...
Whose Now Become Brainy...
Who Sees That The Word...
...... “ STATELY'S “...
Connected To Hades... !!!!

Which Is Where ******* LIVE... !!!!!
So Trust When I Say This...

Linton... Made The Trip...
And Explained The Sitch' Quick...
Through His Truthful Lyrics...

That Inspired This Script...
That’s An OLD... NEW LIK'  ...
That I’ve... Changed Up A Bit... !!!

Which Reflects On The Fact...

That.....

... “ Ingland’s Still A ***** ! “...
LISTEN HERE :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/ya-know-it-really-is-englands-still-a-*****?in=user-16569179/sets/the-starway-vocals
Everestnow Nov 2020
It’s Christmas morning
Not with a well lit Christmas tree decorated with presents at its feet
not with jingle bell playing in the background
not with the anxiety of getting to open up the presents

It’s Christmas morning
Not with children playing in the snow and erecting poorly erected “snowmen”.
not with peppermint sticks hanging over the burning furnace
a plate of cookies and a cup of warm milk was not placed under the chimney for Santa to enjoy because that is not my reality

It’s Christmas morning
Mother has vaseline dripping from my face. And my lips. And my hands.
Because, harmattan dare not make your dark skin white.
The only thing your mind sees
is
yourself
In your long anticipated “Christmas clothes”
You dare not misplace any of your accessories because mothers wrath would descend on you like an eagle. and what comes after?
she’ll remind you of how she struggled to get them. how. you. have. no. idea. they. came. about.

It’s christmas morning.
you’re excited. elated. fully euphoric.
you’re in church.
church takes forever to end. no. you’re just anxious.
being a show off during this christmas morning is fully acceptable because you waited a whole long year to try on your outfit.

it’s christmas morning
and now the night time has come
you’re anticipating your next christmas
forgetting
you’re aging. getting old. mother won’t be there to baptize you with johnsons baby oil and vaseline
she won’t be there to scold you and remind you how reckless and careless you were for misplacing the accessories she got for you.
who do you think will prepare the ceremonial christmas rice. not mother because she’s old. reaping the fruits of her labour. expecting you to take charge.

it’s christmas morning
it’s. christmas. morning.
Wake up, everyday I think of wayz to cake up, love a **** mutt,
Control the gut, never waste my nut, in a ****, yo what the ****,
Is going on, sounds of the ****, rip through each n every song,
Yo, I been destined for greatness, right, loves to be wrong,
Gorgeous flows, jewelery drippin, like my cinnamon tippin, chipped in, check the luxurious pimpin'
Never simpin, gangsta mack, hold that, back to three mill stacks,
Watch my back, cuz friends quick to get you cracked, no lack,
Stay with the Gods, play against odds, crawl through the fog,
Smog, smells good, got my girl riding my mourning wood,
Mighty stealthy, combat mind state wealthy, clean the filthy,
Dark knight genesis, bane yoked design, conquer the innocent,
Baggy denizens, split liquor with my blood citizens, then again,
Miss the pen state, yep, back on the streets, flooding with sin,
Cant help it, product of a failed society, hate eyeing me,
Buying me, time to focus on ecstasy, next to me, bottle of henny,
White with the beanie, sun kiss, by the darkness, hawk this,
Early bird gets the worm, **** what ya heard, dont be absurd,
Before ya body be, floating like a terd, sheeps dont get heard,
Only herd, to the slaughter house, I brought a house, quarter mil,
Chill in the high hills, of Brazil, no deal, pass the steels,
To a better, greater activator, body burn, from the cremator,
Executioner, spiritual foreigner, lost in the false world, hells pearls,
Still gleaming our girls, fire up the woods, mis over understood,
Welcome to black hollyhood, venus fly trap, gotta watch my cap,
Salariez flying high, I might seal up the sky, dont ask why,
A ***** like me, living comfy, joy of a **** Bumpy, johnsons,
Tote the Bronson, steel man im so real, cool as a bladeless fan,
Got a gang of fans, in demand, high head, plans making jams,
Something for ya mind, to groove to, invoke you, through spiritual,
Apollo kid,look at the moon, sixty nine, ways to quote a gaze,
Amazed by the starship,of rhymes I took time, to define a sign,
Virgo star, was born, calm when I'm near the eyes of the storm,
Verge of war, from Jan to December, yo I remember, the true ender,
Identify myself as pure, got da wolverine cure, cant bruise me,
Out do me, ya bout as lost as ******, doo pitching woos,
Only to the cuties who, ready to be sanctified, and amplified,
Then crucified, from the mental pair of eyes, soon you'll realize,
This ain't a disguise, hang with wise guys, analyze ya third eye,
Creating a sty, dont look at me shy, I'm B I G,
so I've been ready to die,
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2021
it must be a clear misunderstanding when someone utters the words: 'you hurt my feelings'... taking offense etc. last time i checked... doubt is outright discredited... yet in doubt: such a plethora of emotions... bundles of emotions... emotions that i can't bestow a narrative onto... it's not like the lack of emotions matched with denial... doubt's plethora: it's a pale version of love... in all but certain times... a pinch of uncertainty is always welcome... as is being offended... it's a loose-paradox (paradox: probably a misnomer in the context) of... an imploding objectivity... all those who claim objectivity also claim: being cognitive pure... not being dragged: muddled by emotions... why are emotions so undeserving to be felt... i'm tired of the silence of the heart for almost forever... when people say they have "****-hurt feelings"... or that they might be "offended"... it's not that... i see it as: implanting emotions... somehow it's easier to digest thoughts: since... "somehow" thoughts can exist in both an: in vivo as in an in vitro staging... you will probably never take thoughts seriously... but emotions... that raw slice of cured beef? well... it's not that i "hurt" your "feelings"... it's only that i gave you... feelings you never prior experienced... no one has hurt feelings: never... people only have bothersome feelings they cannot digest... no one is hurting... there are only a few with indigestion qualms... but since it's not the stomach but the heart... no one their pigeon brain starts to coo coo: cook up nonsense...

in light of recent events, in England...
a proselyte: of a former Islamic persuasion...
gets stabbed, slashed... whatever...
for wearing a Charlie Hebdo t-shirt
at speakers' corner in Hyde Park...
does it matter she's a woman:
does it matter whether or not she
was actually talking or merely wearing the t-shirt?
a proselyte...
i'm sort of one: teasing at the adventure...
i'll write the word ****** because...
well: giggle... bundle...
i will not censor my thoughts...
but because i will not utter the word:
i will not: it's not for the debility
and some "sacred past"..
but i will not scream it: choke my thoughts
with it... i'll reach the platitude...
urban slur that it has become:
you... don't... "own" the word...
i don't need this black hole punctuation
marker...
                      the "N-word":
god grease this "taboo": i have better pork
to ****...

- when enough drink is in me
i'll be writing under the influence:
but i won't be cycling... i tried that once...
i collapsed on the side of the road
clenched my bicycle
like a woman might clench a ****-buddy
and just... lay there... i was aiming
for the moon... it was a moonless night...
i started aiming for the constellations:
it was cloudy... i just lay there on
the pavement...
it felt... very village-esque...
as if the Red Army just passed through
having seen the well-dressed SS-men
running for their life in scuffles
and... torn limbs... in rags...
thank god the Bolsheviks were not
those ****-smeared Mongols...
who ate nothing but rancid horse-meat
and drank nothing but horse blood...
but it figures...
can i please talk to some of the sensible
Muslims: the ****'ites?
the old world Persians... even they're ******:
how come a bunch of camel jockeys
started to dictate to the Persians
a new thinking parameter?
the youngest of the monotheistic brat-dom....
so easily offended...
my greatest "fear":
the jihadi with an acute sensitivity
most associated with: French footballers...
why are these Muslims as sensitive as
French footballers...
Islam was once so gracious:
i was almost willing to "revert"...
i was implored by some Muslims to do so...
that's the thing with associating yourself
with Muslims in the west:
a feeling of conversation soon turns into
a feeling of conversion...
i asked one ****-
            -stani who approached me in a park
while i was sipping a beer...
why are you single? he implored...
a man of your stature...
shouldn't be single...
i didn't ask him whether this was England or
whether it was Lahore..
i just asked him what:
Alif-Lãm-Mĩm
meant at the beginning of a surah...
he brushed it somehow "aside" with a:
'only god knows'...
sorry... but that's not good enough...
i have to be the worst type of
a convert prospect...
although the best should an architecture
student... come along with a joint...
me with two beers... him with Le Trio Joubran:
that is happened in Amsterdam:
of course it had to happen in Amsterdam!

Alif-Lãm-Mĩm: is that sort of quiz
akin to turning letters into numbers
and "seeing" patterns... there's that Hebrew term
for this practice... it's not chiromancy...
it's not the concern for the Zodiac...
it only takes three letters...

"666": ΧΞϚ

last time i checked: "they" were breeding black
athleticism over Hebrew intellectualism...
Hebrew intellect fell short &, sour...
with what came out of Marxism
and... Freud still chokes:
but it's hardly a ******* celebration
when translated into skyscrapers...
when there's also that alias of the ****
with the football stadium... no?

but the "******" can be celebrated for his
physical prowess...
there are more holier words in this language
than a slur i hope to confess has become
more of an urban doodle: prepositional-punctuation
marker....

at least i'm not screaming the "N-word" in the back
of my head like some stuttering numb-nuts...
it's there... plain to see...
if i were to write: Niggerian instead of Nigh-Gear-Ian...
it would imply... what?
the same sort of hyper-sensitivity associated
with Jihadi Johnsons alias:
macabre: Russian ballerinas are more cut-throat
than these French footballers...

there are more sacred words than require
black-holes of: translated into "thinking"...
the name of the Hebrew god...
hidden within a "name for a name":
ha-shem...
there... i'll go as far as that...
i will not utter this word...
but sure as hell i'll make a great dough
of it: seeing how it might rise...

**** a black girl: colonial superpower, i...
the English are the tourists of Europe...
i don't think the Polacks ever felt comfortable
in their backyard... ever...
the argument goes: since the English went
all over the world... the world now has
to come knocking...
for all this ****** weather: you're more than
welcome...
Japan is an island... it has much
better weather: go figure...

another example... a former ISIS bride has returned
to England...
she's living in a £500,000 house
and has been giving treatment for
a prosthetic extension
of a lost arm: "lost" in a drone strike...
**** me... should have fought for ISIS...
pumped myself up with all those
amphetamines all those warriors were
ingesting because:
drink is... b'a'a'a'h bad (stutter?) i bet
you want...

hypersensitivity:
great at running...
but... no good at swimming
or for that matter: rock climbing...
from a tree unto the rock...

no matter... i was watching the Australian masterchef
contest and spotted a stand-out...
her grandmother was of a south-east-asian
"persuasion"...
pure as chalk...
well... "good news": ol' sandpaper man
comes in... 2nd generation
of interracial breeding...
well... two generations short...
what's that like in dog years?
the first encounter... done...
2nd... by the 3rd turn product pops out...
all is bleached...
worked with sandpaper... of white: piglet skin...

what a pretty fine explanation...
this connect: nuanced: "us":
greedily waiting the next: new...
conversion...
how do born & bred Muslims treat
proselytes...
converts... "reverts":
if not black h'american Malcolm X
stints...
all white... Mamluk / Janissary types-typos...
second class: ha! "citizens":
i don't trust these anaemic-**** smears
from the sand-pits of wannabe Congo
any more than...
no... great curry...

how it came about that a western man
had to become: educated by
some... retrograde... concerning words:
he would never ******* use!
even in a bilingual sequence of "events"...
mind you... the niqab would come about
as sort of... useful...
concerning the mythological blonde and
her ******* tirade of cough-ups!

get the **** real: ******:
the blacks just want to be...
blacks... the whites just want to be:
white...
you... play-up your jazz
while i drown my ******* Prokofiev...
you be black... i be white...
women always: some great heritge
of brotherhood making a comeback?
must be a Vancuever sort-of
a shin-dig...
investment in lady... qualities...

just about right: how h'Arabs treat those
Bangladeshi whips...
you have to whip those h'Arabs into
owning some ******* whiskers...
brown-beat doesn't even cover it:
with the copper-necks...

- just don't get me started on the Turks...
Turks... supposedly Muslim...
but their alphabet originated with the Mongol
geography...
seeing how the Turks licked at Vienna...
spent so much time just below
the Carpathian mountains: in Europe...
the best barbers and the best
prostitutes known to man...
oh and the ****'ite Persians who still love their
iconography...
Charlie Hebdo was wrong in that respect:
i bet Muhammad was a handsome *******...
a camel jockey / goat herder...
an illiterate par excellence...

it's not like he was immediately liked in his
local Mecca...
i have my "theory": in praise of older women...
i'm pretty sure she was the elder
the literate... the business mind-set illuminated...
she must have been the person who
wrote down the first Surahs...
who? Khadija: Muhammad's first wife...

eh... and they really do think they're the dog's *******...
Eddie Izzard's explanation is still tip-toe for moi...
my francophobia will not go away:
i can't speak French and not retain a French accent...
that will not pass...
therefore? i will not learn French...
i'm not going to speak French like a foreigner...

clearly i wanted to convert to Islam once...
"clearly"? hmm...
i once listened to this spectacular adhan and cried
like a Janissary...
what put me off Islam?
****-
    -stani Islam...
                 Saudi Islam...
     i'm still teased by the Turks... well... Turkish prostitutes...
once upon a time i also
heard vaughan william's fantasia
on the theme of thomas tallis... and also cried...
i cry at beauty... that's what i do...

my ****** lot... because the Hebrew's devil is older
than my devil...
imagine... coming from a people
that still defended the last paganism
of the Lithuanians: the last paganism in Europe...
the year: 1410... a battle between the pagans...
the Tatars (remains of the Mongol Horde)
the Polacks: lack-land lack-land...
and the Teutonic Order...

perhaps i could have convinced myself
to convert to Islam...
but then... what the hell do i do with
the *******... ms. amber and all that bourbon
that... always reminds me of a brothel?

the Hebrew god...
well... it begins with the implosion and all that's
clockwork with the Greek Δ -
that became the Y or... the serpent's split tongue...
funny story...
i was chatted with a Greek on a train to central
Warsaw from the Modlin Airport...
my god... how similar Greek sounds to Spanish!

look here: γΥ!
                           eh? eh? it's a sound structure that
requires an umlaut when transcribed into
Latin:                     gÜ...
one parabola... two parabola: a pair of wheels:
goo!          of the ghoul!

i do believe the story of of Carmenta (the Cimmerian Sibyl)
because... why shouldn't
it not be mythological that the genius
of Sejong who invented Hangul...
enough time passes...
journalism becomes history and history becomes
myth... or... there abouts...

all for the best... now that we're all seemingly
literate...
under too much weight of history:
it seems that i have inherited too much...
and i have inherited too much:
there's a plateau of a horizon...
so much history for a single man to digest:
ingest... that we have hoarded so much
of it... enter filter... enter skim-reading...
but it happens  ever so often that a Quran arrives...
a fire... but then... all the restrictions
that come with it... so much with keeping
too much from the past...

if only Islam could have cured me
of my drinking solution
to the boredom associated with
the soberness of the everyday: platitudes...
perhaps enough: just enough of *** could
curate me towards a better path...
such are the times:
there's plenty of drink: available...
but never enough ***...
unless you're a performance artist...

i feel most sane on a bicycle... feel safest
when being overtaken by a juggernaut of
a truck's volume...
a critique of traffic...
i feel... completely bewildered when
a mini-cooper: this sized: ||
takes... this much: |       | of space
to overtake you...
while... a man driving a van...
or a truck sized: |       |
takes... || to pass you...

Gallows Corner roundabout...
the last thrill of a cyclist taking to orientating
traffic... in the newspaper...
another solipsistic cyclist was mowed down
by a truck turning left at some junction
of Holborn...
me and my unconscious spatial coordination
arithmetic: not some ******... although:
a ****** would probably wave hello
this was a paediatrician cycling to her job...
i don't pity her... let the earth be light
upon claiming her body...

most cyclists that die on the streets of London
deserve to die...
how nonchalantly they ignore...
how... no... nonchalant is a timid word:
how... blasé they seem...
every time i pass one of these solipsistic
bulges geared up for: target practice
i forget to laugh...

i feel human... i bought 70cl of bourbon...
gorgon... bourbon: watch me turn to stone...
**** it... i'll sober up tomorrow morning
on the dual carriage way...
why not take the risk?
i'm most sane when drinking and scribbling
or when cycling...
i was expecting to see some lovelies in
Upminster... but...
since i was riding a road bike with 23cm wide tires
i was looking down for... ***-holes...
more than looking up for cleavage...

but this glorious spot... just outside of Upminster...
beyond Cranham... easing into
Bird Ln... through to Tomkyns Ln.
while walking across the A127 Arterial...
the organic beauty of England is starting
to grow on me... i love what the Saxons did with
the place...
perhaps the Welsh and the Scots: the origins story
Britons that the Romans met would have
done just as much...
nice... tended to garden...
i once felt nostalgic for the land most associated
with Polacks occupying it
but a land the Swedes wanted... the Mongols...
the Russians... Turks and Germans...
i imagine i'd be as much involved with
a love for the organic north America
while missing the love for the...
culture that lay on top of the organic spectacle...

i much adore this topography...
of course i can hardly appreciate the natives
having too play the game of capitulation
of former colonial herd "animals"...
hurt feelings? or feelings aroused?
you felt them: your problem...

how the English capitulated to their former subjects...
it almost hurts... almost: no... it hurts...
i love this land...
i'm hardly going to agree with the people...
nicety... politeness:
you give them a ******* mosque in the middle
of... i've was invited to the Reagent Park mosque
as a prospectus convert...
what is it with having Muslim "friends":
you're only "friends"... "proper":
if you convert?!
what's that recipe you have for the Lavash?
who would have thought that rosemary
works just as well with beef as it does with lamb...
oh right... that was it?
fair enough... *******!

see... that's what put me off Islam...
****-
  -stani: Rotherman...
bad taste man... it just left a bad taste in
my mouth... i ended up without a mouth...
pretending to eat via the hole i **** from...
i'd scoff out some diarhoea digestive juices on
my meal and then... vacuum it up with my ****...
i remember the concept of teeth...
though... teeth were nice...
so was the tongue...

****-
  -stanis ruined my vision of converting to Islam...
i'll settled for this... makeshift of Christianity...
gnostic.. because... well:
in my position: you're not teasing at Hebrew
superstitions... you must be...

oh this land... this most glorious: serene land...
how breath-taking "concept" of Scotland...
all the finicky irks of the rolling hills of
what's mostly England...
on a bicycle: best...
do i mind the locals?
well... do the local mind their former colonial
subjects?
what's that saying: thanks for the recipe?

you see me in Bangkok... you see a *******
chimpanzee die from dehydration:
sweated out from his... salty... nut-sack!
i'm not going... to hell with south-east Asian
humidity...
it's a cancer... i'll best survive with "the idea"
of keeping up a hard-on / narrative on...
prospectus ghost horizons...
the Faroe Isles... *******: GREEN-LAND...

that's where Frankenstein's monster would
have went... i'd go there too...
the agony of summer...
everything decomposes too quickly...
the flies... the maggot **** the flies!

oh for the love of these isles... perhaps not the people:
then again... i rather drift in & out with
the anglo-saxons than be jumbled up with
"my" people...
you start to appreciate despising the
******* diaspora after a while...
i guess the Polacks are the most willing to
integrate...
whoever showcased the dynamics of the
congregation project of Chicago...
somehow forgot...
i'll drink drink this 70cl of bourbon:
don't worry... i won't clog up the arteries of
the NHS with my antics...

you what? i love this land... perhaps the wolves
have been culled...
but the foxes are still running rampant...
well: if life throw you foxes:
you're not going to exactly: ah-woooo!
bark? for the love of life: i will never
bark or take to the leash...
i own two maine *****...
i exhausted them while grooming them...

they ended up spending the afternooon
sleeping in my bed...
i'm hopefully going to retire to it:
with a horror movie soundtrack somehow:
soon...
spontaneity of narrative... closure:
more impromptu... less of that...
masquerade formality...
this god blessed land...
if only the Spanish armada...
like the Mongolian ships...
should the conquest of Yappon could have
been envisioned...

anyone still reading this still bothered about...
GG?
the consensus of... a neGlected...
     Giant...
i think... this former soy boys catching
their Goliaths... catch 'em cold... sober..
or... simply exchange them?
to perform so well in slam-dunk prowess...
reinvent classical music via jazz through
towards blues... rock... etc.?

somehow the weight on my shoulders shifts...
a Nigerian ****** turns out to be an urban slur that
doesn't invoke a Nigerian...
a soy boy vegan: perhaps...
i implore the use with coercion tactic...
for those offended: yeah... i'll just implant some
emotions into your heart...
it's very much offensive for my to intrude with
proper spelling...

let's be honest: anyone who has been:
honest... is by now... tired of walking on eggshells...
**** a black girl... what, you?! colonial beast!
yes... confuse the ****** with the Croat...
the Russian too... hell... throw some Ukrainian bias
while you're at it...
anti-racist western girls are...
eh... m'eh... if i can get what i want for
half a decade's worth with some Turkish raven
hair... beaus...
do i... have to mind... pronouns... prospectus quotes etc?

like i said... wait for the bleach..
or... the sandpaper...
i've seen the complete works...
i was ****** with... love... affairs...
girls that dated me...
sure... but they had younger sisters...
and their younger sisters were more...
most attractive...
terrible combination:
dating a girl while her younger sister
is more attractive...

for all the choices and Heidegger...
lucky loser...
no... thank you...
to be one of these super-sensitive Islam propagators...
me? convert?! *******: no!
best keep that ***** in the niqab...
if it were a bone tomahawk..
it would be a female... declined limbs...
blinded...
a torso readied for *******...
imagine that... a replica machinery...

oh i'm sure... Muhammad... was a handsome beast...
but i'm thankful...
that the first... last... true religion...
met a schism so early...
Muhammad was so easily undermined
not keeping a nepotistic promise for
a cousin Ali...
early schism: no truer than:
truth is somehow sold?!

i fiddle with my beard:
whoever says otherwise... no... i'm still playing a violin!
i'll sober up solo... cycling against the gusts of wind...
Eloise...
Eloise!
England... oh this well deserved and welcome land...

my land....
in deutsche:: mein(e) erde...
i watch the locals: capitulate....
   what are you?! slugging *****-best-please
sumac? i... i am to surround  suspicion?

this glorious land....
                   this.... glorious land...
this: ING-LAND...
best forget the wolves..
given the foxes are prunes...
JoJo Nguyen May 2022
An singular, insular egg--

A poultry product trafficking from ancillary islands.

Why does Black Velvet weep in Buffalo?

Two Johnsons joined by  bitter worms, quantum entanglements

fed to little crows, caged birds howling cold and broken.
Ryan O'Leary Nov 2019
If Hillary had been elected
last time, World War 3 would
be over by now.

So, people with vision, vote
Donny T for a two term in
2020.                    

And Boris Johnsons Tory
party for a United Ireland.
Socialism's for the unhappy's.

     (Regard La France)

— The End —