There's a castle in Duluth
Made out of sugar cubes

And the moat that flows out front
Is filled with soda pop

Fruit that grows on trees
Is the finest in jelly beans

In the nearby spring fed lake
People swim in grape Kool-Aid

The streets where those people live
Are cobblestoned with M&M's

In their houses made of brick
From different flavors of licorice

With picket fences in the lawns
Constructed out of candy corn

When cotton candy clouds
Move in from the South  

The crowds open their mouths
As the skittles come raining down

The days are always sweet
In the Kingdom of Kandy

Where the King and Queen rule fair the days
With scepters made of candy canes

In their castle of sugar cubes
This Kandy Kingdom of sweet tooth's

You tasted my fruit and decided
you didn't like sour things.
You thought you liked the taste of lemons,
but soon found it left your tongue bitter
and tough.
I thought your sweet would meet my sour
and would leave me licking my finger tips.
But now I'm licking my wounds and
wondering if I said something wrong or
maybe I didn't make you *** hard enough...
Or maybe it's because I didn't ***.
You are King Kandy,
and my teeth have begun to hurt.

The men shout at me as they drive by
“******, walk like a man!”
They hoot, shout, and laugh
As sunlight blinds their white-trash getaway.

I look around and think
How ridiculous to be unable to walk
How insane for me to think that these legs
Move on their own.
How silly for me, the queen that I am,
To think that my kingdom was
Any place I was welcome.

To be queer and visible
Is to challenge
The stained muscle shirts
“wife beaters,” strung across
Tattooed skin and handlebar
Mustaches of the “real men”
Whose siren calls
Police my step.

Most men hate us
The Children of Naomi Campbell
Men, YES MEN, too unafraid
To straighten our walk
Loosen our pant legs
And be invisible.

To be properly gay
Acceptably gay, to be
Tolerable is to be invisible
To hide, to be “real man”

My manhood is ghostly
Terrifying even
My walk so dangerous that
It is unsafe to even drive by

My community is still
Dangerous, unreal
Waiting for the next truck to drive by
To beat me, tie me to a fence and leave me
Like Matthew Shepard
A ghost on a fencepole

Unwanted, dangerous,
My people are a threat
Legs too long threatening the ability of
“real men” to have simple desires
They will do whatever it takes
To keep it easy.

Walk like a man, they yelled.
I yell back the names of my family:
Tiffany Edwards,
Zoraida Reyes, Kandy Hall
Yaz’min Shancez

Bodies that didn’t walk the right way
These ghosts were once threatening too.
Simply existing means threatening
"real men" and their women

Swinging my hips is literally deadly
To be flirtatious is to be threatening
To invite violence, attention
To get what I want, to be made a man

Real man, I am not real
As if my only job is to
Show others how to walk,
As if the rest of me
Is simply fake, fantasy, irrelevant

See how easily queer people
Are watered down to something unidimensional,
Something that is only a fragment of
“real” people – we are ghosts
Moving among you

Threatening, ******
Never just going to work
But always somehow
threatening, challenging
And forcing fantasies onto the world

Why do we always challenge
What is real? What is normal?
Why can’t a man strut? Why isn’t manhood
Something other than what swings with my
Legs?

Real. Ghostly. Fake. Invisible. Dangerous.
What I hear is powerful, noted, interesting,
….maybe even desirable. (GASP!)

When I walk now, I walk with an army of ghosts
Led by the fallen, queens, and divas
who threatened the men of the past.
I live their lessons and proudly
swish my hips in honor of my adopted
****** ancestors.

We Sashay however we want
Because we've realized that
a "real" men is always
Just a step away.

-a bit of the main hero myth -

but the legend said I would, and by now,
you think
maybe so, maybe al in real is al in always?

and we begun, to think the bubble biggering thing a
gain a
little
here there a
we informed, an afform-firm
conformative decision, says the story
telling me, to tell you all, we
told you,
so, who due you owe? Define Devine then sift love
from the mix,
mere words
awe,
ah
ha and sounds mmm hmmm ok tic
we talk
you talk,
we talk unalienable rightmtruetoo, 'botchew
lie.
How? civil servant say, how we lie?

whispers laughs ear to earl laughs aloud

your god in the stars, gives you kings, you say
kings is a dangoodway, to rule with just
one lie, the entire idea and the way
to teach it so all stand under it
until death pay each full worth
of every counted for something idle word
deemed
realways to develop the character, wise one,

kingslayer, -{argh- we be makers of peace, y'twist}

strait up made sacred, squeeze through the clench
tightjibbs beesinteeth big olgrin, not a smile
a grimace,

I have miles to go before I sleep…

but that would leave me at the mercy, ah
ha, right we as words used to hold the satellite-ical
logos, systems,
certainly some are better than others in terms,
terms themselves per se, yo se, such easy knowing
we all know the lies about god
are not being told by those who asked
help with unbelief.

What a relief. Enough. Just enough
to know,
orchids are good as mistletoe, in the ganzgestalt

Book of Life, which holds all the imagined ones,
sets of ways we can imagine

becoming from, y'know,
where I'm from, where a mind is made up, matters,
materially, however, we here,
acknowledge good in all its ways, it's as if the good
quantum level good
is
down at the base
re as on,
if off is re
versatile, a stairway, eh, a stile over the wall,
verse
no need to take down the wall, it may have a role,
like one of those domino shows,
10,000, manhours, zip-thasitclickity click and done
or failed,
maybe this wall that holds the last fret to let go,
re
ject, right, once more, throw it all away, and watch
the good stuff keep comin' back sayin',

Horton say you hear us, we ai, ain't d-ai-d, or
afraid, we jes' old
and filled with buckets of lists of all the things we never did.

- ah, me, cool
- see, in egypt to get the best out of life after death,
- you staid ready to say, a whole long list of I did not do that’s
- and if the list of things you did not do
- is long enough, as you write it in practice scrolls of con
- fession pro forma
-
whatever
disconnects you from finding true rest, no worries, fret not
no *******,

that ain't the kind of peace terminals we make up, as minds
accepted, like a hat, pick the wish you were,
wear the hat, walk the walk, do the talk,
it's TV Sci-fi, fi simper, semper fi  - no lie, a good story,

makes a mass audience in tune to common sense, as
hot and cold,
light and dark,
pull and push,
twist and shout, work it on out, it is
oh yeah
your salvation, do it now, did we miss a beat, was there a hell
somebody never made shut yo' lyin' mind

old man, go home
ask truth-its-ownsel,f tell you what lies you leave be true,
you true believer, be
doin' some listen to yo'self say what you know, you don't.
Ask truth what lie you b'lieve.
You know, you don't. You know, you don't. Forever,
yet, beyond the shadow of that,
y'know
here, earth post 2020, we all saw we all are human, by
all the names of terms we all use
to say I know them, their cousins back to mito mom
our whole internal energy distribution system
links us- yeseyesyes- any bleeding mortal reader on earth
is linked to all bleeding mortal readers on earth
and in where radio code can be decoded
hmmm
mmmmm
mind in matter-real struggle for reality, look spot
blind, see, I never did that test for the fifteen degree blind zone.

Face to face, I know a clenching grimace when I make one.

It ios finished, flushit. That real human
feeling
is the actual good that
ties us at the base of all we ever knew, it is true,
science in good con
good con
science is just
like religion, formation of a following explanatory story,
this
is what comes next, unless we do
the right
thing.

Use the dowry? Touch the Principle Thing, oh my GOD
can you imagine, as in
Beulah land, of corn and wine all its riches freely MINE

… JUST OVER THOSE ROCK KANDY MOUNTAINS
eeeee ohdledee odledeeee ooo

-- and nextime the hillbilly baby momma goes to
tell her cousin of the conditions associated with this
pragnanz gnosis, super secret, you cannot say john.

Sure, you name your kid John, mine has a thousand names al-
rea-ah ready
dy
and just as many faces,

and the babe kicked, she said,
in the spirit
that kick

little startle response no excuse, no sense of déjà vu,

that's common.
It comes down in sheets. Let downs,
from heaven.

Your life's cut short- We sure had a lot of fun
When I think of you- I see the rising sun

Dynamic noise- The bass breaks the ground
Dance all night- Always ready for another round

Glitter is flowing- Like dust in the air
We were creatures of the night-We would go anywhere

As the crowds were forming- The lines were quite long
Of all the things we were doing- Nothing was wrong

Bright colors and lights filled each room-
We watched each other as our night began to bloom

Darkened corners- Upon the fluffy couches we'd fall
Our bodies outstretched- Our legs in a sprawl

The music flowing thru our veins- Me Pixie Stix- You Kandy Kanes
Oh the fond memories Ill remember all of my days- The fun times we had in the height of our craze!

The twists and turns our lives have brought us thru- We both have come out on top, and we now have clear view

My debt bubble has been de-leveraged & I'll fight with guns plastic
'cause in my life defensive maneuvers have been necessarily drastic
when my crooked, fist-fightin' limbs distend Michael J. Fox spastic
Hurry pops the time for peace has degraded into a campaign drastic
as it's off to Wales where Woody, Keef & Charlie have gassed ****
like Churchill planned for Bonn as he thunk toxic gas was fantastic
& normal like switching toothpaste with a gummy resin tree mastic
that's tacky enough to entrap a brown flea but not a ******, fast tick
on Hillary Clinton's saddle-sore ***'s ****-itchy crack iconoclastic
that forces epidemical ****-casting directresses to brutally cast sick
& crippled X-muffers in dramas that are heterophobic & bombastic
& contra-contrary to the T.N.T. needed to nucleate *** & blast hick
to decree '64 as bein' the year of producer Loke Wan Tho's last flick
I am stirred by murmurs of kittens that have daily purred but my fat
cats never bought never sold never used a toilet never spoke a word
as hairy cats are ecstatic to lick hanging parts that are thickly furred
& drenched in muco-pus, river mud, alkaline residue or mouse ****
that's added for spice with green duck gut, snake nose & rotted bird
to commonize felinicidal fare in stitch with farmerettes heatin' curd
to nourish ol' Jimmy Carter robotoid #14 whose death was deferred
to push puppet Lin Forbes Burnham as David Rockefeller preferred
makes recipes valid for McDonald's grinding men into meat absurd
& the cries of ***** smashing periodic squeals into groans unheard
by moon-friendly babes whose quims rest salmon-pink & uninjured
in aspections physico-social via spirographical methods unpictured
regarding cotomaster vulgaris or second-place placers placing third
with ears & belly buttons clogged by **** & blood-shot eyes blurred
Oh **** Kiki Ebsen, let's love forever the dead Larry, Moe & Curly
& their lower Australian counterparts: the scuzzy Fairy, ** & Girly
who gulp milk with hens' eggs knowing that not 1 dairy foe is burly
as I wanna see H.P.V. vaccine-pricking-swine Rick Perry goin' surly
like Squiggy might've on Garry Marshall's show Laverne & Shirley
starring Cindy Williams & Penny Marshall whose teeth ain't pearly,
& who in heels & padded bra passes as the twin of Jo Anne Worley
in 1963 when cream was in glass bottles & menopause started early
enough for Lee Oswald before The Eye Shadows backed Merle Lee
Disney destroyed maternal worries with furnace asphyxiants of gas,
proving that lungs full of carbon monoxide fumes ain't going to last
to see '39 as '38 wafted by in a whiff of monoxidized demise so fast
for those who cartoonize the near-future, animate God's distant past
so as to demand that Rabbi Shimon's Apocalypse tribes be amassed
to pike the head of Charlie Watts as El Shaddai can never be sassed
before a Satanical/congregational flock of U.S.'s pornocratical cast
conjuring underneath a devilishly-****** act's pornographical blast
framed as merry mix-ups the queerest of collusions that flabbergast
regardless of America's oldest race-baitin' ******'s homosexual past
as a Georgia state assembly guy whom toothless ****** outclassed
Whilst masonical N.A.S.A. creates super-speed planets between us,
nobody cares that our 500,000 mile-per-hour sun is paced by Venus
in aether squattin' like California smog in a stab wound of bean pus
that'll render mucho mas gorier the spit-stained walls of a clean bus
driven off the Sunshine Skyway Bridge by a *****-lovin' mean cuss
who aped a weakling diving from tin panels pitched via a lean truss
that constricts **** lard into prime cream corn to make a queen fuss
The costumes of the Gestapo & American cops are black not 'cause
I like hanging out with lynch mobs & ******* ****** in my shack
& writing Bible corollaries after rammin' enemas up my ****** tract
in repugnance to ***-wipe Zbigniew Brzezinski of the Warsaw Pact
as it is Russia's Crimean annexation of 2014 that he's denied as fact
I curl these 10 toes under so they don't get, by a machete, hacked &
I don't date angry Mafia assassins so as to keep from bein' whacked
whilst the pardoning integrity of demi-god mafiosos governs intact,
as sanctity is conferred knowing which cops by the mob are backed
through underworld graft to ensure pig police are doggedly tracked,
framed, extorted, beat up, spiritually broken & emotionally cracked
haunting dank alleys with the hapless citizens they had blackjacked
whose id acuity gave sway to id injury that caused 'em to be sacked
by politicians placed in places as these are places a mob has hacked
with paid-pain-placebo politicos la cosa nostra has placidly backed
& licked, tucked, hocked, blacked, ticked, socked, cocked & tacked
or redacted, corrected, misdirected, uncooked, rooked & shellacked
plus heckled, freckled, prickled, pickled, trickled, kicked & stacked
Las lebianas de T.V. sexcite & thrill as no low caliber gun ever will
on the battlefields of Vietnam where John Kerry liked to run & ****,
before porkin' John Heinz's Satanical widow in a billion-dollar deal
He couldn't kick his habit each mornin' of taking a birth-control pill
or attending parties of talk-show-maggot Donahue to cop a free feel
after crappin' into pizza boxes to implement Lucifer's masonic weal
I forget not from which side my ****, neck-breaking horse I mount:
hormones coursing, **** strap is tight! What in hell am I on about?
I swoon in love, dance over matches, feel *****, steadily lose count
Her cane, her walker, her wheel chair & support hose, quack-quack,
only prove what gigolos have always known, wealthy hags kick ***
in post-menopausal slump on cruise ships ******* apes for a laugh
up my you-know-what that is a big outlet 25 inches north of my calf
whilst allopathic veterinary cat medicine increases misery @ % 7½
because me no understand a tiny bit God's need for famine & wrath
against dullards whose algebra is more mathematic than basic math
that lets me hog-call the glossy-white pig Kathie Lee Gifford: Kath'
after she aborted 3 kiddies under the bridge on the coat hanger path
Many thrillin' Christian facts have just come to light with a colorful
computer-generated face of Lord Jesus, thank God He is very white
so that we may crucify the black Jesus theory without a ****** fight
that'd be the death-kiss for chimps chimping ghetto-ebonics at night
I care for you like a foreign **** with lots of cars in his huge car lot
I know that kitty-soft quims like yours ain't never wholesale bought
I just want to part your pink ******* in bed or on any army cot
I wanna probe the core of your womanhood like your mama taught:
Cousin Jethro, Uncle Jed, André from U.P.S. & that ****** she shot
in cop-crazed self defense as she feared for her personal safety a lot
'cause her husband had to **** Iraqi children in Iraq where he fought
toilet-strain that queered his insane brain giving him queer-brain rot
that bruised his belly button, above primal glands, with a blood clot
big enough to slow Chris Reeve's gallopin' horse to a paralyzed trot
that'd split the greasy 3 hairs on the cue ball of governor Rick Scott
who's a leg-shaving maniac, less frigidly warm than moderately hot
when he enjoys vein-popping-**** straining on his golden **** ***
where-from he farts that it's legal Agenda 21's new-world-order plot
Love me wet, like you loved ****** loving freak Jacques Cousteau
who drowned 350,000 Unitarians via Aqua-Lung, Don't'cha know?
Ah Satan sees Natasha while she'll step on no pets to see juice flow
along direct paths between points A & B, as would fly a sober crow
34 minutes late for an egg-layin' contest & house-cat-skinning show
that we bird-lovin' farts must look up to the sky from hot hell below
where evaporated diarrhea fills Carnation milk cans in a ****** flow
over irradiated breakfast cereal that radiates a healthful, green glow
that'll thaw **** ice & hypothermic ***** on banana cones of snow
I'm better off than dead, not better often dead, Totie Fields, you liar
I won't skate to Ohio whilst my **** is on fire with ****-love desire
Excuse me while I limp to hell, as my leg was pared just after a fire
that makes me hobble to hell after cooking in Gandhi's funeral pyre
The sweet nectar of rector Hector of the Catholic sector gives sway
to conjecture in the Protestant vector as his carotid artery neck tore
The new nectar of Hector rector of the Catholic sector gave sway to
conjecture with an elector of vector 7 as his carotid artery neck tore
As his carotid artery neck tore, a new nectar of rector Hector de the
Catholic sector gave sway to conjecture with an elector of X vector
As his real pecks & neck tore, black neck tar of rector Hector of the
Catholical sector prefecture shot a letcher, a selector & an inspector
With specks of neck gore, the tarry sect tar of trekked-for Hector of
papal facture could catch more than lure ***** ***** on a tech floor
This violent gothical life moved me into a filthy hermit's hut where
it keeps my ***** mouth shut, the limited movement in my left nut
This stupefyin' gothical life dug me into a buried hermit's rut where
it's kept my ***** mouth shut, the poor functionality of my left nut
has kept 666 donkey gobs shut, the campy dysfunctions of a walnut
It's kept my ***** mouth shut, the bad functionality of my hind gut
It keeps my ***** mouth shut, the limited movement in my left nut
It slams my ***** mouth shut, the fun moments of my lard-*** ****
Your pocked *** are 2 flabby people I haven't wanted to meet again
while I'm busy in bee-stung-hive land eating carp bowel & shark fin

DON'T TOUCH MY *** BECAUSE I'M A LESBIAN FOREVER
& ever & no man'll change it because, ****-wise, I'm lesbian-clever
I'll block you soon forever & blacken your eyes & hide your toupée
because I hate you more queerly than prissy Obama hates being gay
with Michael, as he expresses himself better durin' lactation classes
among the hammer-happy Hillary crowd & Bill's ****-****** *****  
that only worsen clownish ***** dunked by red-sock-ducked passes
through to the prostate in lucky, ancient Hugh Hefner ****** sasses
Eddie Money, Johnny Paycheck & Johnny Cash in 32 papal masses
Lord God, let us gaily promote family-oriented regional voter fraud
for a shiksa of the Red Sea whose **** & *** push a solid boater ***
I cocked hitchings to my petcock like a whinin' Alfred Hitchcock in
anticipation of 18 quacked ribs via unpatented Owl **** ***** Sock
as sinus infections purpled nasal-mucopus excreta into an itch pock
Let me scratch your lard *** in peace, a piece of ***, girly hot ridge,
on the farm with lazy Keith, smart-aleck Danny & Shirley Partridge
who refuses to follow hygienical protocols including hand sanitizer
as your glad, toothless Kentuckian chews via a manned-clan incisor
On blood-drenched sheets you scarf Jiff extra crunchy peanut butter forever & want me to love you for it after hurlin' chunky in a gutter
But I got more complex self-respect than blind respect that's simple
for your cheese-spewing-mucopus-heavy-acne-cystical *** pimple
that made Walker McDonald chuck his walker for a steel gimp pole
so that he could pole vault over Bruce Jenner's scrod & shrimp stall
Deeply from the cockpit of my ******'s messy shore I proclaim that
this itchy crack is a filthy treasure by my big ****** ****'s measure
'cause from it venereal-diseased Johns derive lots of carnal pleasure
until their ureters swell shut & good currents of ***** ain't ****-sure
fewer than 6 inches from the **** uretero-pelvic junction's fist core
where M.L.K., junior scratched deeply his pustulating ****** fissure
Shut up hard-*** **** I can buy & sell you whenever I ******* want
Sit there whilst I pray for guidance or I'll kick you for your defiance
Hi, my name's Kandy and I work in a cat house with mucho ******
who are girlfriends of mine plagued by ulcerative, syphilitical sores
made weepy by salts of the briny deep below Jacmel's ocean shores
Insane James Whitmore claims grit poor as he blames **** for what
shames *** sore after eating fried porridge that defied proper storage
Wherever condominiums are posh the battle is delirium vs.delusion
that illustratively eliminates an elusively-shrill illusion of a colossal
cerebral cortex calamity countering cranial, ****-clinching contusion
The gay estrogen king kept his **** well with agents anthelmintical
till he was killed by the girly estrogen king with pills antiparasitical
Algeria, Algeria, I despise you worser than **** films from Nigeria
made by queer-bait crotch crickets afflicted with advanced progeria
that they got from white-phosphorus-bombed kids of peaceful Syria
where Moslemical love thaws the icy hearts of ******* from Siberia
who ran over the Caucasus via Spain's Portuguese peninsula, Iberia
I'm doubly excited about Intact ******* Day I think I am I am sure,
'cause I got a dark cookie doll in raunchy eastern Mexico to live for
which's why the suicidal jump of Evelyn McHale was not vehicular
in traffic flow manual guides, as the crashed car was her stone floor
Commanding Lieutenant William Bligh was the victim of cowardly
mutiny by Acting Lieutenant Fletcher Christian, two years after His
Majesty's Armed Vessel Bounty did sail, 'cause sweaty-palmed freak
Fletch Christian snagged his mutinous, ripped ****** on a bent nail
Don't let's not, not let's don't count on doubt, unsounded into Jersey
where stinking **** #26 is officiously & officially known as **** Z
who'll scrape, bow, prostrate like a girl whose knees shake in curtsy
who'll scrape & prostrate like a lesbian whose **** shakes in curtsy
Look Santa Claus, my purpled *****' knobs are Christ-like & sharp
like push buttons of a dead angel's gaily-strummed, gay-baited harp
Wing Chun my *** up the center line & I'll hide beneath a tarp after
I call first dibs from a toilet, dharma & karma & catfishes kiss carp
I call first dibs from a toilet, dharma & karma & catfish kisses carp
I call first dibs on the toilet! It's daffy dharma over karma or vicky-
verky. Wing Chun my *** up the center line where jerks chaw jerky
I sank to the bottom of your love bucket like mice winning at bingo
for being ******* to cherry wood while houndin' a kid-killin' dingo
Your clingy love has done much to set me free since you lopped off
2 of your straight front limbs to become a crippled, double amputee
during a Jesus-dead Christmas like I don't like it in an ulcerated sea
under the current of a skinny, barbiturated Johnny Cash over for tea
as calculated gastrical absorption rates rate as constants minus a fee
that transmogrifies my sleek, **** **** into the bulbous *** of a bee
what pendulates & undulates below the bend of my lonely left knee
in relation to fly-papered catch-alls & bug zappers in my family tree
where 1 ape wrangler wrangles triangular angles, bangles, spangles
for Christmas like I don't like it because my ******* on ice dangles
whilst fearin' for Winston Smith as to when caged rats/mice fangs'll
avulse eyes & gnaw on his tongue, before weaving nests in his lung
that shall really make it tricky to sing sing-songs he ain't never sung
that'll make it hard to gaily sing sing-songs he ain't never gaily sung
Merry Christmas nice Santa Claus, happy birthday & prepare to die
'cause when it comes to murdering fat men, I'm not the least bit shy
around dippy/daffy ***** too dried out to give it that old college try
outside college because I am the same age while they are a lot older
with bruised head, dented instep, hammer toe & arthritical shoulder
that goes up when I slip down a hill that's got many a loose boulder
to crush Miss Austria even though I once angrily warned & told her
of what's in for tall chicks runnin' ledges in acts dangerously bolder
for beauty queens long in the tooth & **** babes significantly older
whose hottest movements render homely ***** withdrawn & colder
than the homosexy boy-toy lover of Obama pickaninny Eric Holder
from whom I've hid in 32 Kenyan files a blatantly-fraudulent folder
of cheery, cherry Christ Masses reamin' the beheld's queer beholder

( After the Easter Bombing, 2019)

To daily travelers like me,
Mr. Aziz was a common sight on the train.
Small and bearded, clean and bright
He was the perfect train companion.
Newspaper in hand, brief case clutched tight
He would smartly stand up for the ladies,
book tickets and hold parcels
For the less fortunate.
An old hand in the Kandy line
His neat little person ideal
For walking between temperamental
Carriages, rubbing intimately
Against ill-fitted hinges,

Despite creaking bolts
And rusty fringes.

When the trains started again, mid-May
He was a changed man.
Suddenly his clothes hung on him loosely
And people looked at him askance.
They slithered further from him
In the ticketing queue-
And no ladies wished to hold his parcels.
There were subtle evasions
And cruel barbs-
And one day he comes, his beard gone
The valleys and shadows of his face open to
Our stripping gaze.
He settles himself awkwardly in a corner-seat
Wishing himself invisible
And somehow, I know,
That this is the beginning of an end,
He will perhaps retire a few months in advance,
Sit on his porch in glum silence-
Recalling the magical sway of old carriages,
Rubbing with familiarity through tunnels and lanes-
Like old lovers, though ill-matched,
arrange creaking limbs on creaking beds.

Despite creaking bolts
and corroded chains.

She is only twenty-three, seven years younger than her brother. She is riding that motorbike late at night, aginst all fears. All she wants is to take her brother and mother to the most favorite place at night in Kandy. It was drizzling a little too by then.

She mixed up with the directions a little. They ended up heading to a place where a highly unlikeable bunch of people hanging out and accommodate.  They were drinking. It wasn't a pleasant party. Some people are born so nasty, He thought to himself and reminded of the world's Victorian days. All praise the Queens, Science is new Victoria.

Life felt like a prolonged mystery.

Simsom, wissin un a modder scable.

Ee sasterbuddy roun.

Cotta nodder scable--
Efry bottie younts.

Bosha hot pod o'dawdle
Scarf me nex me mekme randy
Goof, goof, a sart asoddle
Sek me sek me lek me kandy

A rim rite, a raddle
A pleep dwine of spaddle
Ohhhh, misser blimpkin,
Downda dwaddle
Hissy mifflin!!!

An old Persian name for
Sri Lanka, later becoming
Serendipity, chance, lucky.

It used to be Ceylon, which
incorporated the Kingdom
of Kandy.

Serendip can hardly now be
be associated with it's original
three princes of good fortune.