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Ilayda Aydın Jan 2019
The nymph of forest craves that you will illuminate the night through your soul
  And without moonlight...
  Your tears are drug for me
  And i'm tipsy...
  La laa laa...  La la laaa...
  The...
  The lava is flowing down from your hair
  i drink your elixir
  i need your skin...
  This is a holy integration
  My lord... How is this one night?
  The else nymphs sneak tell you my love
  i'm the forest itself
  The stars in the sky are singing love songs
  This moment is love itself
  You're like a water-drop found when i wander throughout the desert.
  La laa laa... la laa laa... Like a song
  Let's drink on behalf of the soul of everything
  On behalf of...
  Let's get out of existence...
  Then let's be the existence itself
  La laa laa... La laa laa... Like a time traveler
  Are you ready to shut off the time?
  Close your eyes...
  And open your heart
  Just listen to breath of existence
  Go!!  Go away...
  Get rid of obstacles that **** the kid inside you.
  Your soul is sprouting in peace
  La laa laa... La laa laa... Like a love
Bergen Franklin May 2015
la laa la la sing the happy song!
the smurfs... they told me to **** again...
la la laa, lasing the happy song all day long
noose to the toes popsicle stick up the nose...what great fun!
la laa la la
time to **** again
la la la laa
death is my friend, 80\'s cartoons tell me to **** again...
la la laa sing the happy song...
I have a collection of tongues nailed to a gong...
it rings quite happily with a happy song...
la la laa la la, sing the happy song
i wish i lived in hong kong. thums are in hong kong...
la la laa la... sing the happy song
skin is blue, teeth are red, only one is paint,
smurfs are good people are bad, who says I need meds?
la la laa la... sing the happy song
I lay my feet among human heads
la la laa la... sing the happy song
my walls were not always red,
I like to ring my gong w/ every added leg
it rings quite happily with a happy song...
la la laa la... sing the happy song
take a bow, reach in my pants
not for reasons you think my friend
la la laa la... sing the happy song
decorate the stage w/ happy brains..
sing the happy song!
*BLAM
Aug 2, 2003
Reece Dec 2013
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay

That interim between dreams and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
When slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

Your scattered thoughts betray reality
and you
question everything - now waking
Smiling chief, chirping loud
Your body gathered and prepared
under torchlight in dusty tents
Ingesting iboga and that old familiar numbness overpowers
You've been here for a life now, looking back on your life now
hatasha hullah - dey
vey, okay, huttah, ulay

Witch doctor, tribal medicine, fanning smoke from a wild fire
flashing imagery akin to memories of when life was decadent
you remember the taste of stray rain drops on your upper lip on muggy British summer days
and waking on a beach, bloodied as the sand at your feet is the next recollection, how powerful
the act of reflection, as you recall the mirrors of the sea and your torn body weakened and inept
The gathered village chant in unison and splinter groups fall off beat only to rejoin intermittently

Remember the Burmese boy far from home on the Gabon shoreline
and he informs you of your own death,
and asks you why do you breathe still?

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey

On some beaten path lost in Angola you carried two packs, food for the world
but you fell starving and spluttered on the rock that looked like your home
Rebels run wild in jeeps black as night, your supplies strewn on rubble grounds
- hatasha hullah - dey
Taken in a flurry, twittering birds in far off trees betray your trust and fly away
in the opposite direction, and the juggernaut jeep catches air over uneven tracks
You were scared and crying under blindfolded eyes and captors jeered, captivated
- parablah nuh parrah
An orchestrated mass of military garbed children with rifles gather you abruptly
when the car stopped with a rumble
And tied to rusted rigs you're gagged and stripped, bloodied your face now
as they beat you and laugh
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
Congolese giant man, sword in hand and grimacing through bared teeth
Making bold gestures and speaking some inscrutable language
You cannot answer and fear is now in control, you shiver in the ghastly draft
On failure to answer you must be beaten, your back is lashed, repeatedly
- narralah, narrah, nutay
You remain silent but cry in disparity, after shrieks of horror finally escape your barren lips
Through stinging eyes you assess the surroundings after hours of torture when they retire
to their leather beds of shame and innocence faltered, try and remember how to live
- Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
Months must have passed, survive off insects and morning dew on the muddy floor
This African wasteland, time forgotten, child soldiers and lack of humanity is trivial
Always scheming, recollect the armament and through door-way shack trapped light
you see a clear path, and it is good
- ley hatasha hullah - dey
The pinnacle nightfall anticipated arrives, and your skinny wrists released now easily
(their faltering lack of knowledge and abundant braggadocio betray them)
AK laying in moonlight illumination, a sign of God perhaps, but experience proves otherwise
(How cruel the dreams you had of such a gift)
When they spot you leaving, the night lights up, wild crackle of gunfire, heart beats, tribal drums
(To massacre children, such proficiency, the dreams were mindful)
No lapse in concentration, you may ruminate on objective morality in due time
(Crawling through blood and bodies of children, so pure, cadavers tell lies)
The clearing ahead in giant trees, you run and don't look back, praying for no pursuit
(Another genocide committed by a white man, justified perhaps this once)
Weeks pass and you falter only to slurp rain water from Congolese sipping cups the leaves
(Blacking out somewhere in the Republic, or on a border or who cares, as you died long ago)
- vey, okay, huttah, ulay
  ley hatasha hullah - dey

To awake from hallucinogen dreams, and cruel memories linger, it's painful you agree
Witch doctor still sings, lonesome now as the tribe apply ointments and silently pray
The fire still dances to some incredible song and your scars redacted, physical and other
How incredible the mind feeling fuzzy and that insane dream is just that - a dream
You black out again, a common occurrence but upon waking you're free, no tribe exists
With a sheepskin rucksack full of cassava, plantains and sugarcane and cocoa beans
Months pass and you make it to the North, when you leave Africa your body is new
and your mind is stable, no lingering cognizance or frightful thoughts of a forgotten ordeal

You arrive in Turkey, to partake in ***** with nimble girls
and I see you floundering on silken sheets,
My memories were fresh as the nymph on your lap
I write to you a note, and you turn alabaster, moon faced being
I was there always and saw every moment
Your ideals on morality are hazy at best, and to your behest I detest all that you stand for
Is your afterlife so pure, now that bodies litter the forest floor
and do you believe that I am not (a) God
and is this mere poetry, or an indictment of your folly and a warning to all whom engage
but do you not also see that every reaction was an action taken to your original action
and when all is said and done, do you no realise that from the day you were born
you were born a God and that God was born dead
and this is just that interim between expiration and consciousness, that momentary lapse of reality
when slave children don't howl and the wild animals lay tamed in sun traps, weary

hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
hatasha hullah - dey
parablah nuh parrah
vey, okay, huttah, ulay
narralah, narrah, nutay
Oh laa, ley ley lahh ley lah
ley hatasha hullah - dey
Dilo Ka Aashiyan, Hai ab, hume paas laa raha
Tumse milke Dil ye mera, Khwaboo se hai yu kah raha
Dilo Ka Aashiyan, Hai ab, hume paas laa raha
Tumse milke ye Dil mera, Khwaboo se hai yu kah raha

Meri saanso ko teri saanso ka, Shukrana
Teri Sajde me jee raha , Mehzara
Meri saanso ko teri saanso ka, Shukrana
Teri sajde me jee raha , Mehzara


Naa kasam, Naa koi wada, Naa hi Irada
Fir kislie Dil mera Bekrar rahta hai
Naa koi tamannah Na koi Khwahish, Aarzu
Fir kyu Mujhe Tera Intzar sa rahta hai

Har ek Lamha ab dil mera pareshan rahta hai
Har ek aahat par ab tera intzar rahta hai
Ek duje se naa bichde yeh Dua kyu karta hai
Teri Baahoo me meri jannat
Teri zulfo me meri chahat

Meri saanso ko teri saanso ka, Shukrana
Teri Sajde me jee raha , Mehzara
Dilo Ka Aashiyan, Hai ab, hume paas laa raha
Tumse milke Dil ye mera, Khwaboo se hai yu kah raha
Meri saanso ko teri saanso ka, Shukrana
Teri sajde me jee raha , Mehzara
MEHZARA
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
Web- skdisro.weebly.com
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
soul in torment Oct 2013
Forget rabbits

nothing
gets you wetter

than

a duck
This is about sweet little animals honest ^^  or is it
Ve tu ta soch vi ni sakda,
Ki kinna pyaar kardi haa.

Mahiya mere jaan hai tu meri,
Mai sirf haa teri sirf teri.

Teri je na hoyi kade kisi di ni hona,
Tere bina assi el pal vi ni jiyona.

Tu hove jado mere naal hove bahaar,
Tere bin eho ji zindagi vi bekaar

Ankha kholla te tu samne hove,
Tere ch vasdeya mera khuda ve.

Tere naal meri rooh rang di,
Taitho mai tainu hi mangdi.

Chal assi ek sohni duniya vasaiye,
Tu hai meri taaqat mere mahiye.

Jiyona marna hai naal tere,
Teri dadhkan hai saddi saans sajna mere.

Mai rabb nu vekheya nahi aye,
Mere layi khuda tu hi ve.

Mai kinna tenu chauhni mai,
Eh baya mai kar sakdi nai.

Har saah te sajna naam tera,
Jado jud jave tere naal naam mera.

Zindagi da sab tou sohna din ve,
Mainu le jaye doli ch jaan meriye.

Hathha ch mehndi hove tere naam di,
Ghodi leke aaye le jawe sajni aapdi.

Paira ch jhanjhar chan chan chanakdi,
Laal jode ch dulhan ohdi pari lagdi.

Mere sohneya teri jaan tenu yaad kardi,
Meri ankhiyan sirf tehnu labhdi.

Supna banke mil jaunda hai raatan nu,
Ardaas kardi mai khush rawe har vele tu.

Mere hathhan di khushbu tere hathhan ch,
Ja milau os rabb ne sohne lekh injh.

Is zindagi ch jiyone jinne saah sajna,
Tere naal hi leni kardi sajda.

Seene naal laake har lenda har dukh,
Tere hisse ch karde rabb mere har sukh.

Har janam mai tere naam kar deya.
Saaha tou piyareya hai mera mahiya.

Rabb tou pehle tera zikar aunda ve,
Chand naal chandni raat naal taare.

Pta ni lageya tere naal dil laa baithhe,
Sacchiyan mohabbatan assi tere naal karde.

Preeta suchiyan ne,
Tenu har gal dasange.

Tere karke hi haa jiyondi,
Tenu hi har vele os rabb tou mangdi.

Rabb ne milaiya jodiya,
Tere naal hi hasdi teri mahiya.
kainat rasheed Oct 2017
Translation




Woi To Hai Jo Nizam-e-Hasti Chala Raha Hai

ko’ii to hai jo nizaam-e-hastii chalaa rahaa hai
vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai
dikha’ii bhii jo na de nazar bhii jo aa rahaa hai
vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai

(Someone is there who is managing the order of life
He is God, He is God, He is God
He is invisible still He can be seen
He is God, He is God, He is God)

nazar bhii rakhe sama’ateN bhii, vo jaan letaa hai niyyateN bhii
jo Khaana-e-laa-shauur meN jagmagaa rahaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai
vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai

(He keep eyes and ears too, He knows even the intentions
The one who is illuminated in our subconscious minds
He is God, He is God, He is God)

talaash us ko na kar butoN meN, vo hai badaltii hu’ii rutoN meN
jo din ko raat aur raat ko din banaa rahaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai
vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai, vohii Khudaa hai

(Do not search for Him in the idols, He is in the changing seasons
The one who is changing day to night and night to day
He is God, He is God, He is God)





You are clay . I am clay
Earlier I didn't believe in the God or any powers and miracles...
But when I thought that we are so advanced and we have reached the skies in Science and Technology...but still Scientists are unable to create us, to create humans..Then there must be a superpower who creates us..though I try to connect everything with Science.and not with miracles even now..but I'm changing..( with the efforts of poems created by Great persons like you).
THANK YOU SO MUCH
GOOD WRITE
Nazar bhi rakhe, samaartein bhi

Woh jaan leta hai, neeatein bhi Jo Khana-e-Lella, Shioon mein jagmaga raha hai Wohi Khuda hai, Wohi khudaa hai Wohi khudaa hai, Wohi khudaa hai Talash uss ko, na kar buttoun mein woh hai badalti hui ruttoun mein Jo din ko raat aur raat ko din bana raha hai, Wohi Khuda hai Wohi Khuda hai, Wohi khudaa hai Wohi khudaa hai...

Koi to hai jo, nizaam-e-hasti

chala raha hai, Wohi Khuda hai Dikhayi bhi jo na de nazar bhi Jo aa raha hai, Wohi Khuda hai Wohi Khuda hai, Wohi Khuda hai
Ain Sep 2020
Khoobsoorti sadaf ki be misaal hoti hai....
Raaz hai uska jo chipa us mein ek moti hai.....

Sadaf ke do pat gar misaal e miya biwi hain...
Unki shadi ka rishta hi woh chipa moti hai...

Naazuk magar bohot woh baareek taar hota hai. ....
Jo us moti ko bana ke haar apne mein pirota hai...

Lamhe se lamha judta hai to ek zindagi banti hai...
Aur do zindagiyan milti hai to  ek shadi ki ladi banti hai...

Qadam se qadam milane mein khud ki pehchaan bhi khoti hai...
Alag se rang mein rangi phir shaksiyat dono ki nikharti hai....

Azwaji zindagi ke kuch apne masale bhi hote hain...
Kaanton se bhari raahon mein paththar bhi biche hote hain....

Zakhm in rahon par chal kar zaroor hasil hote hain...
Tab woh dono hi to ek duje ka marham hote hain...

17 saalon mein maine to bas itna hi seekha hai....
Hai woh kaamyaab rishta mohabbat se jisko seecha hai...

Sona chandi jis tarah ek aurat ko sajata hai...
Pyar o ehteraam waise hi rishte ko banata hai...

Wafa ka bhi to ek bohot ehm muqaam hota hai...
Qaayam uske dam pe hi to aitmaad hota hai....

Kuch aise hi to daqeeq yeh uroosi rishte hote hain....
Beinteha mohabbat se jinhe in jodon ne seechein hain...

25 o 50 salon ka yeh safar e taweel mubarak **. ..
Aapko yeh khoobsurat qaid e hayaat mubarak **. ..

Dua karti hain "Ain" laa zawal mausam e ulfat **....
Masrur rahe hayaat, har lamha pur rifaqat **...
Andrew Parker Dec 2013
jump, skip, hop, then POP!
August 2, 2011

So here's a playful tune
to make your body swoon.
Shake and bake those hips
pucker up and lick your lips.
Because tonight, we're dancing!

da lada dee da daaa laaa la laa ohhhh

I love the way you move like that
jumpin' 'n jivin', you're one cool kat.
So now we're getting down
laughing so much, are you a clown?
In our serene meadow, together, we're prancing!

Lemme catch you off guard, sweep you off your feet
this is the most romantic way I could think of for us to meet.
Now don't get me wrong, I mean I dress to impress
but girl, for you, I'd much rather wear less.
If you know what I mean, hiding my eyes glancing!

Excuse me mam, but I don't mean to be rude
or have you think my humor is too crude.
But for a special lady, lady, lady, oh so cute
I'll give it my my all, gotta take aim, then shoot.
Gotta get, gotta gotta, give you my all, all my romancing.

Boop boop be doop buh bahhh tra lalalahhh

Baby, so I've got you now forever maybe.
Squeeze you so freaking tight, 'till your soul leaves.
Enters my body and we intertwine, as it mentors.
Me and teaches how to be we.

koo koo cuh cahhh shoop doop la lahhh
Jump, Skip, Hop, then POP!
Ravin Jul 2018
1.
Dard ko kaagaz *** utarna aata hota to hum bhi galib hotee, magar humara dard to sinee mai dafan hai !!

Hum Galib to nehi magar likhne ka junoon rekhte hain, kisi aur ke dard mai apna dard dhoond liya kerte hain.....

2.
Duaen jhoot ko sach banane ke liye mangi jatii hai !!! Sach ko jhoot banen ki koi fariyaad nehi hoti..

3.
Zakham sabke hote hain,magar khuredna koi nehi chata..
Yee hai maasukha jisee chodna koi nehi chaataa..
Agar zahkam mere tum dekho to zakham saha nehi jata..

4.
Aaj phir usne kaha plz understand ... Mai na jane kyon uskii naa mai haan samajh gya, phir dil ko bewafa samajh gya..

5.
Mai iss umeed mai dooba tuu bacha lega ... abb iske baad kya mera intehaan lega

6.
Aaj tune phir us mod *** sath choda, phir mekhane ke bahar haath choda ... hum is mod see is kadar wakif hai, kii lagta hai tune phir ghar laa choda....

7.
Dhunvee kii aadat sii hoo gyee hai nashe kii cahaat sii hoo gye hai...
Tuu na rehe to kya hua tere bina jeene kii aadat sii hoo gyee hai...
My Dear Poet Mar 2021
“Wow”
said the cow
and, “Wow”, “Wow”
say another two
And if,
“Wow”, “Wow”, Wow”
say another three
Then what should you do?
Please reply
with, “Moo”
for that’s what
a cow should do
“Moo”, “Moo”, “Moo”
even four
‘moos’ or more
Until no cow with ‘wow’
Is heard
among the herd
Anytime now
or evermore

If, “Laa”
says the Ewe
and “Laa”,  “Laa”
say another two
...then three, and so on...
you know,
somethings wrong.
Please reply with “Baa”
and as many ‘Baa’s’
you need to
But keep to a few,
and keep it at that
Unless you hear,
“MooWow”
and it’s coming
from the cat
Jay earnest Aug 24
I heard the tune goes like
la laa laa nah da daa
the trombone fish breath make mint filth frolickers
And gnome nosed needled toes take the token
Too far
la daa nah dahh lee nah
Happenstance and zero hour
awake for a pedigree deciple
Green brown black
Heart attack
Laughing like a dog it's time for a snack
Don't look back
Laa dee dahhh ***** laa dee

The crumpled fist, and the removed go seeking their Messiah
I put dusk in your lungs
Youre dead to me
Dead like my future
***"""""""***
werz me cntroll wennaneedit
ad dis fukkn ting duhfeetd
annowiss gommee bakk on me neez
ferda saykova bigbaggagrreen
a carnt be fukkn arsd repeetn
dis same day aggen an aggen
av orreddee seen it laa
issdawonn dat never fukkn ennz
Just say no to drugs kids.

Unless its a really nice kush.
Timothy Joyner Dec 2018
Watching from afar
Don't know who you are

Dee_--mons

They'aa-aa-ah have chaa-
nged you

Too late to turn back now
Putting your Country on a scowl

Perhaps unacquainted with vestment
Your Base keeps them in the basement

Toooo-oo laa-aate now
Nough

T L H Joyner
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
right... phew... not this time... i'm getting this off my chest... i have to... i couldn't possibly tell this to a friend, i'm not even good with stating this anonymously... but it would explain a lot of things... i actually see this in print, out of my own volition... it has to be done... i just remember that poem Philip Larkin...
                    they ******* up, your mum and dad.
                    they may not mean to, but they do.


i don't like science, or rather: i do like science per se,
****'s sake, i did chemistry to a university degree
level - first person in my family to even go to university,
had it not been the Blaire era in politics
with that tragic motto of: education, education, education
i would have gladly went to a trade school -
even though: i sort of did by working a summer job
as a roofer in the construction industry -
oh not tiles and roofs all slanting...
i'm talking industrial scale roofs sometimes the size
of half a football pitch... tar work, felt work, fleece,
insulation, gravel by the tonne-load...
  
                but i just don't like... scientific language...
the way people talk science -
this supposedly "higher" i dare even say "moral" superiority,
well... it is sort of moral to know something
is red: if it actually is red...
rather than saying it's blue... knowledge, i find,
can be constrained by a morality of: truth...
ah... philosophy on the other hand...
that's like when science ****** art...
   the freedoms within Ms. Sophia are seemingly limitless...

what am i getting at?
     i don't have *** that frequently... all the better...
or worse... because for the next two days...
when the night comes...
                 mind you... i'm asleep...
                         i get torn up by something that
hides in the night and beyond: in dreams
and the vast yawning vacuum of nothingness...

i can see it upon waking... walking into a dark room
where my mother and father are *******...
p.t.s.d.? we were on holiday
    they were young, i was young... only one room
available... one bed...
      i fell asleep, they went out...
i woke up to the noise of them *******...
   i was lying in the same bed mind you...
   and that i had the audacity to say something
to my mother as they finished and she cuddled me...

i'm not even going to go as far as calling it child
abuse... after all... i was a bit of a devil myself...
i started ******* when i was either 7 or 8 years
old, i do remember that...
we were playing hide and seek in a construction
site of a church and i stumbled across a pornographic
magazine...
    and...
              and... by about 9... or maybe 8...
so as a first generation immigrant...
   back in the day... a ****** lady married this
Jewish guy who had a massive house on Perth Road
Gants Hill...
    he had a market stall, selling cheap-***** t-shirts
which he used to travel to Manchester for...
he also owned a string of Rolls-Royces and he drove
them, rented them for weddings etc.,
   but... he also "rented" the entire house to immigrant
men... sometimes? 20 under one roof... sometimes maybe
more... and he lived in this house...
with these migrant men... with his two daughters
and his son... and his wife...
                       right... get the picture?
we used to live like that at the beginning...
    obviously there was also me and my parents...
crammed? eh... just a bit...
    was i abused? not that i can recall...
              well... one time me and this guy's son
were having a bath... together... yeah...
children... mother was standing in view of us
as she ironed some clothes...
    and? would you believe it?
                  i taught him how to *******...
i told him: there's this funny sensation once you've
done it enough times...

so i mean: if i was sexually abused as a child...
it was by either me or.... the myth of an incubus...
some magical ***** fairy godmother
that gave me a heads up... on what was to come...

sure... shell-shocked... after that incident of waking
in the same bed your mother and father are *******...
i had the opportunity to return the favour once...
some black woman picked me up in a pub
and since i had nothing better to do
  i thought: **** it... let's go...
trouble is... she took me back to the room she was
renting somewhere in Stratford...
i walk in... ****... a young girl and a boy sleeping
on the bed...
          what does she do? she literally drags them
off the bed onto the floor
     gets on the bed and... ha ha...
         she doesn't even allow me to penetrate her
******... she folds her legs so that it's an imitation
******... like... a bit like... what Buffalo Bill does
in the Silence of the Lambs when he hides his genitals...

she did that... i tried maybe one ******...
   and immediately the memory flooded in...
who's fault was it? who was more ***** that night
that they couldn't help themselves?
my father? or my mother?
              well then... i was standing before the truth...
or... about to do some pelvic push ins...
i stopped myself... i said: i can't do it with children
in the same room...
so we just lay there... fell asleep...
i woke up and this little bundle of sweet afro
was standing beside me... ******* on his smoczek
******-soother... or just soother...
so i picked him... obviously completely naked
and placed him on my torso...
and he... fell asleep... there...
                                            
maybe that's why i need the extremes of sexuality
by going to the brothel...
maybe i can only **** prostitutes...
i need to know: for certain... i don't want to **** on a whim...
i don't want some dating game...

perhaps this might be called an ode to Johnny Depp,
a sort of cherry on top...
i don't want to be hiding these details of my life
inside of me... i have enough cognitive labyrinth to
think through as it stands...
i like transparency, i'm a disciple of truth:
well... "disciple": an adherent of it...
   better me digging up old skeletons from my closet
than having someone else defame me or smear me,
straight from the horses mouth as they say:
or as i say: liars don't walk on stilts...
   lies have short legs...

why? it's about ******* time...
    it takes some courage to be honest... just enough...
but science can't explain the last two nights...
where i was apparently making strange noises
in my sleep... where i got out of bed
and toppled down a case of my c.d. collection...
i woke up and i was like:
   wait a minute... i remember playing back
that *****-flick from two days ago in my head:
meditating on everything...
   me, Khedira...the two mirrors...
   the *******, the brandy...
                the apparent non-existent ******...
weird things that go bump in the night...
   a horror-lust realm of entanglements and things
non-scientific...
       i had to explain to both of them:
i wasn't drunk... not really... i was high from the ***...

i don't understand how *** can become tedius
to some people... well... i can... they have it too often...
no wonder they have to find "other" avenues
to express themselves with latex and role-playing...
if you **** like a Teutonic monk...
you **** like a Teutonic monk...
           you transcend something that otherwise
bores people after having moved outside of
the saturation point...

two days ago i knew i had to make my move...
return the favour... she counted how many times
we were together... when i asked... this was our 4th
encounter... with this other *******
i was asked to pay an extra £20 to perform oral *** on her...
i knew it would be different with Khedira...
she was comfortable in the *******...
she didn't even have to **** me off prior
to *******... in between the change of rhythm
i dived in and slurped on a bucket load
of oysters...
    stuck me nose in it...
             carousel of tongues... seems i have more than
one...
   then back to *******...
then diving back down but this time ******* her...

it was coming... i knew that expression on a woman's
face... it happened to me before... with Ilona...
when i was 21... but then i couldn't believe it...
i thought she was faking it...
    it's not like an ****** in pornographic movies...
exaggerated almost extraterrestrial...
the spasms... the ******* spasms... recoils...
like i said previously:
   i'm of the school of act that says:
it's sometimes more pleasurable to give pleasure...
than to receive it...
evidently i love eating ****...
       probably more so than getting oral *** in return...
which would place me in the Gomorrah camp...
no... i'm not into whatever ***** was up to...

       to hell with it: we're over-sexed as it is...
we're living in a time of libido-insomnia...
                         fight fire with fire...
                                better still... bring some cooking oil
and a deodorant spray can...
                     i'm on the side of: counter to what's currently
the state of social-engineering...
no problem... i'll be your "****" your "pervert" your:
"stranger" your outlier...
if Walt Whitman could celebrate himself...
and be his unabashed gay-self...
   gay-pride? right... sure... no problem...
                    let's try this for starters...
   i'll parade my affection on paper...
             and since so few people read... i'll just slip past
the nets of censors...
   i'll dig a trench and employ covert methods
to get my stance to stand in full view: of those who are
willing to ingest it...

it wouldn't be the same if i had long her like i once
had... back then she could have the fantasy
of being eaten out by a woman... and a man...
morphing: androgynous circus...
but with short hair... ah... so much better...
the way a woman can sort of grip your short hair
and with such adamant want
try to invert the process of giving birth
by showing you into her... and since we're all
born like the fall of Lucifer: head first...
eh... merely sticking your "poker" in her while
retaining: keeping... eating her eyes with your eyes...

obviously i read the Kama Sutra...
slapping... pinching... biting...
       that's all part of the ritual...
                           it's nice to hear the following:
i love you...
   i don't think i can forget you...
              not after you bit my upper lip...
she was clearly insinuating that i perform oral ***
on her... all that tongue waggling...
feverish tongue of lust....
   an array of onomatopoeias...
                 the crows might have been croaking...
the woodland pigeons could be cooing...
ancient reptilian morphs...

    seriously... it's unlike any "conquest"...
the antithesis of Don Juan seducing a nun...
   because... what the hell made more special than
all the other men she slept with?
to be able to... what day is it today? Saturday...
long weekend... diamond jubilee and all...
   Sunday, tomorrow... she's going to text me tomorrow
and tell me when she wants to meet up...
yeah... i actually managed to convince a *******
to a date... i was looking up hotel rooms in Barking
only yesterday... that's roughly £70 for an entire
night...
           obviously i'll take her out for dinner...
buy a bottle of decent alcohol...
  strawberries... brandy or prosceco?
probably both...
                   lemons? maybe...

because i don't do it by the hour...
                 i'm like a diesel engine...
    i need that reminder of the 7 hours during the night
when she had about 4 *******:
my last night in St. Petersburg... ah: those white nights
of St. Petersburg...
how?! how did i manage to pull this stunt off?
i moved from paying her for ***
to paying for her to spend a night with me in a hotel
room... well... that was quick...
only after 4 encounters: i guess the oral *** i performed
on her was the deal-breaker for her...

it's also good to know that:
i'm the good sort of mad...
          yeah... we talked... i lay on the floor with my head
resting on a make-shift pillow of my shoes...
smoking a cigarette... laughing...
   then we washed each other in the bath...
            i was drunk on not being drunk...
***-starved and then: outlet... boom!
              everything starts making sense...
to hell with relationships... i wouldn't go as far
as to want to bore myself with
sharing a life together:
              well... maybe... but then the *** wouldn't
be ***...
   i wouldn't go as far as the Muslims in terms
of covering the women in sadistic attire...
****'s sake: at least they could make the niqab
out of white linen... or cream linen...
       but men and women shouldn't sleep in the same
bed... obviously **** in the same bed...
but sleep? i tried that once...
every single night... half of me was numb for having
fallen asleep hugging her...
  i need my own bed to sleep in...

hell... if society and culture is selling me the fantasy
of Pretty Woman... starring: you know who...
Richard Gere and Julian Roberts...
well... i'm not a business man, i'm not a lawyer...
i'm a humble "poet", i spew words...
i regurgitate them... i'm a "pooet"...
    why not ask society... so... this is good? yes?
then you hear dating horror stories...
and you're like: i'll be Pontius Pilate...
    i'll wash my hands clean off these affairs...

it's that simple... people want to play ball... sure...
i'll play ball... but this time round:
i'll be making the rules...
the last time i tried to tango with a girl
she was misplacing her feet...
   i kept on standing on them... mea culpa mea culpa
oh where is my mea culpa?!
enough... is... enough...
   reiteration: but it has to be a reiteration
in Deutsche: genug ist genug!

i've seen enough, i've smelled enough, i touched enough...
funny story...
me and this Irish lad were talking before my encounter
with Khedira... he had a balloon and a flask of
laughing gas on him...
we talked... he thought i was an undercover
journalist... Oxbridge educated...
i think i was laughing more than he was:
even though he was inhaling laughing gas...
he had this funny Celtic name...
almost feminine... a name a bit like: Nikita...
i told him... i knew this girl once...
she said she was: not naive... she was Kneev...
but her name was written as Niamh...
go figure... i told him: i'm not English...
i persuaded him: your people are inspired...
to preserve themselves... a bit like the Welsh...
who still retain their mother-tongue...

he was willing to share some of the laughing gas
but out of politeness he refused to share
the balloon with me... obviously i agreed with him...
he talked about a thumping sensation
to his head... like the brain was trying to
get out of the skeleton by routes outside
the realm of mummification...
     we talked about *******... i was like...
the first time i tried it was when i was 35...
reluctantly...
   because, like i told him: it really doesn't do anything
for me what too much coffee and nicotine
already does...

his friend came out after having ****** Khedira...
well... she's sure as **** not a ******...
lucky me... the "omega-male"...
i'm not here for conquests... i'm here for postcards...
wish you were: i too, wish this was Venice...
jealous? n'ah... let's play the game right...
i'm not here looking out for timid virgins
or for that matter mouthy under-aged girls...

i just hope that by writing this i can have the "audacity"
to have a calm night's sleep...
i seriously can't be sleep-walking
throwing down things, groaning, moaning
in my sleep...

        two days ought to be enough to let his lustful
demon incarnation wrestling with me, pass...
maybe if i ****** on a regular basis i wouldn't
be drinking as much...
   maybe i'm finally sobering up to the idea
of *******... maybe i've saturated what has
become very real for me...

i'm pretty sure that the Ukrainians were happy
when **** Germany invaded Poland...
well then... the Ukrainians are fighting Russians
as we speak... and i'm thinking about a second schism
in Islam... with a Turkish *******...
the best barbers in the world...
and, i suppose, the best prostitutes in the world...
the Russian girls are overshadowed...

ha ha... even she said that men are better cooks
than women...
she told me to slow down on the "invisible" macron
hovering above the A in laa'vash...
oh... it's this Turkish meal...
black peppercorns... sea salt... chillies...
rosemary... white wine vinegar...
i forget the rest... cheddar... actual lavash...
thinly sliced beef...

          that's always nice to find... a man... within a woman...
within a sentiment left by a woman:
men are better cooks than women
because women "think" they know how
to cook food... we agreed...
no... they don't... i told her about my worst
dinner... cooked by my grandmother...

i initiated ******* / chewing on a piece of chalk...
wrong temperature... doubly-butchered...
it's the sort of meat that makes your teeth
click... click... chewy ****...
chat chat... chuckle... meat that makes
your teeth stick together...
and i said to her: you can readily replace CHat...
with a SHeep of a slurp...
   juicy meat... juicy everything...
  meat like juice of a pomegranate...

by the end of the encounter...
i asked her: are you happy?
yes... she replied...
fair enough... so... now don't worry about me:
whether i ******* or not...
obviously i wasn't...
         i knew that i didn't know that i was
barking at the right tree... dragging a Trojan horse's
worth of a libido back into my bedroom...
i was about to erase about a 200 cohort of men
in her gallery of exposing her ****...
lucky me... night-terrors...

               science is: too... demystifying...
i don't like answers... philosophy doesn't like answers...
philosophy does the question-bits...
according to Heidegger something is either
question-worthy of worthless...
i'm in love with German-thinking...
        England has provided the economic side of "things"...
but in terms of "thinking"? let's just say
yes to English comedy... i will not digest Locke...
no ******' chance in hell!

funny that... mann von schreiben...
man of letters...
     English thinking is too pragmatic...
me? like a German...
how do i "solve" a "complication"?
i over-complicate the "complication"...

i have to pity the day...
i beg and i beg, and i beg
for the night to relieve me...
            i pray for the night to come...
i'm most aware of undetailed things
when i find myself surrounded by people that
are asleep...

the great Biblical deluge?
like the great Swedish deluge of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth?
wasn't there an ice age moment
when the ice melted?!
                 too much journalism... not enough
poetic imagination in the people...
      
i "think" i'm just about done... yes...
Matthew said to Conrad: i think you are.

— The End —