Radio
fade in/fade out
why
you said that
i suppose
your redolent innuendos
take my hand     take my heart
his hands were cleans
but his ***** clothes belonged to me
I was a washing-machine mutant
measuring out oxydol
and love
while dreaming of Apocalypse
and Metamorphasis
under the guise of musical appreciation
/sliding underneath the static/
there was no time for reality
except the truth we created for ourselves
wrapped it around us
like blue waters
that hid a broken bottle
jagged scars as memory
/channel change
smooth, cool curve of the dial
beneath my fingertips/
loooking to be the runaway
I let him go his own way
again
and again
when he sent me letters
they were addressed to a different party
and were in a strange vocabulary
I couldn't understand
I craved to make him a meaning
but music had a blood fever
I found the music
then let it play

I march alone,
a flaming candle,
clasped within shaky hands,
as I travel the rocky path,
of the darkest hour,
searching for my lost companion.

The intensity of the winds,
blow with invisible ferocity,
attempting to extingiush,
my only source of light,
in the obscurity of this journey,
to find what is no longer mine.

The cluttered valley of stones,
sporadic and jagged,
engenders my feet to lose,
their sight to guide me,
as a shadow blinds them,
stumbling with the challenge,
of yet another obstacle.

Raindrops stain my skin,
tingling through my core,
like an icy kiss of death,
burning my torso.

An intangible blazing arrow,
splicing through the hearth,
of my being,
trembling with fatigue,
as I fall to my knees.

Despite the weakness,
of my quivering limbs,
I now stand upon two feet,
unwavering in the harsh atmosphere,
engulfing my petite frame,
as I glance in all directions,
to behold what I have lost.

Unfortunately I shall never reach,
the one I once yearned,
to travel the vast lands with,
as our destinies collide,
but betrayal leaps from a canister,
opened by the hands,
of a ***** friend choosing to become,
my nememsis,
as a vile murky sludge bursts out,
of the jar.

Putrid animosity creeps out,
spreading upon my trusting soul,
like the black plague,
relentless with thorns of corruption,
leaving me to make no other choice.

The toxic Substance,
leaves me with a distaste,
burdened at the loss,
of what I seek;
Nausea sweeps across my bridge,
of loyalty,
wishing abandonment,
is not the lyrics,
I must sing to remain,
in the palms of safety.

Loooking behind me is not an option,
fleeing to an unexpected direction,
a turn resulting in a shift,
of purpose in my investigation,
of life beyond the rudiments,
I thought to be the focus,
guiding me.

Feelings of Isolation,
begin to blossom,
until I realize my possession,
of the lit candle,
my fingers cling to,
restoring balance.

As I lift my gaze,
away from the  dancling flames,
of fire,
I feel the desire,
to trust my intuition,
always drifting through,
the entirety of my chimerical mind.

Instincts take over me,
driving meto paint,
the world carrying the fruits,
of a visually compelling existence,
as I encounter the joys,
of a voice entertaining my ears,
the fiery memories,
emblazoning a scuplture,
moving me to create new stories,
sniffing the tantalizing aroma,
of Wild roses,
conjuring a persona,
bravely foolish enough to chance,
the tide Swirling,
with a sea of opportunities.

So my life is ficked up, and i need someone to help me make a choice in my life
so here it is ...
If you were in my shoes would you choose someone you loved and cant go a day without or family who care about you no matter what
My sister dated this guy for a bit and i know this sounds bad but we fell in love with each other it didnt work with each other , I know it will work for each other thie thing is if i go for this she is never going to talk to me again she will push me away , she loves me im not doing this to her to try hurt her
Im not a bad person sometimes we dont choose the person we love it just happens i  wish she would understand that if she makes me choose her im not going to able to be around her This is the demon I face im not scared of him because im loooking at myself ... things are going down hill its making me want to give up on myself ...... im stuck in this hole I want him in my life and I want my family to be there too... no one going to not like me but i dont care , I just care about what my sister has to say about this.

but somehow,
i write to peer into visualising
         my thought
pattern,
   or at least, how i can construct it
on the basis that:
i just walked about 6 miles
and drank 5 cans of beer
and smoked a few cigarettes
   and sat on a bench in a public space.

i really do believe that with man
having overcome the natural world
(to some degree),
industrialised the rearing of pigs for
pork, creating the bonsai tiger
that's a cat...
      god, i dread this anglophone
existential narrative of going way way back
and then coming into the present...
   walking zombie like
in the aftermath of unearthing the big bang
and finding dinosaur bones...
excavating Hades has never had so many
pitfalls...
       but this is the anglophone narrative,
that we currently live in,
  ask anyone in Tuscany and they're like:
come Friday, bring a bottle of wine,
have dinner...
       look at my beautiful house...
ever see the *appleton tower in Edinburgh?
built in the 1960s... meaning:
too many people were on aßid...
    c (see) s (esse) **** (ah yes)
(takes a break and empties his bladder)...
who in Venice might have a care
to keep this ref. in mind,
   who on earth, if not the english
have it? i go to Poland and people talk
about the butcher's and know the butcher's
name, small world and all that...
    i'm starting to think that
keeping the big bang ref. point in pop
culture is eating away at the everyday...
   and all this talk of dinosaurs...
   before they unearthed dinosaur bones
they were drawing dragons,
giant iguanas...
    i guess the snake is the abstract
version of a dinosaur... the remains:
no limbs...
     it has to be...
  like the way i took my tongue for a walk
today...
      what with our concrete body
and our abstract counterparts....
  one word on the tip of my tongue,
passing a bench where some would have
said in spotting a *** sitting on it...
sure, the *** look, the worn shoes...
but what *** can be seen
  eating a strange fruit from a paper
bag, watching a family of: mama, papa
and two kinder, smile and drop
that small fruit into his gob?
   as i was walking with my grandfather
he asked: who is that?
  i said: a philosopher.
   evidently the conversation was in polish
and the word in question is:
  fi-lo-zof...
the church is still there, the bench too,
the memory prompts itself sometimes,
a bit like a knee ****...
  and that got me thinking about
the concept in Jewish tradition...
   ayin (nothingness) -
             so ע‎ spoke to א (adam / aleph)...
but i need to get something off my chest...
ever find a 20 quid banknote in a puddle
or a 10 quid banknote in a puddle,
and given the current times,
an old fiver on a street pavement?
money again...
    i have...
and when you do, and then later spot
a penny on the street...
or when you have actually made
your own wine, rather than bought it
in a supermarket...
  how odd it looks, that penny,
how gravity prone,
as if it was supposed to be lost,
dropped, spared the agony of economics?
i was walking the streets tonight and
i looked at it (walking and listening
to distance's repercussions album
can feel a lot like going to a gig,
it's classified as dub-step, but it's really
ambient music,
just that the real ambient music
is, pretty much listening to a very old
refrigerator, the ones that made a sound,
had a heart of some sort,
like putting your head against an old
box, that's no longer a box, but a size 0
model... that leaves you null when
considering the static transmission of
channel 0) - oh my...
how we look into the future with
so much nostalgia these days,
  forget the ancient greeks, forget the nostalgia
of philosophers bound by that rule
of thumb in the 19th and the 20th century...
we're waving: bye bye odes to that old trash,
not to be rude, but i have been exposed to
so many technological advances in the past
20 odd years that i have no plot,
no novel, apart from the one given to me,
and if i do a pish-poor job of recording it,
then woo-hoo to me, i passed the Tao threshold,
the world can happen, and i can just
enter a realm of, finally being able to forget...
still, a penny on a street isn't a 20 quid banknote,
and given the improvement,
that it has turned all Australian on me,
i don't even need to dry it off to later spend it
if it's found floating like an ice-berg
in a puddle...
             and i think: why are pennies so real?
i mean, it's staring right back at me,
it's looks almost like an excalibur...
or the profanity plagiarised with thor's hammer...
i don't want to pick it up...
    it's so gravity prone on the pavement
like a pebble, or like a copper statue of a
"very important" person in parliament sq.,
that just get riddled with communism
in a capitalistic society, i.e. vandalism...
     the penny bewildering...
   i can't visualise what i'd do with it,
because i couldn't do much with it...
        it's just copper on stone...
     a bit like looking at a newspaper
of the day lying about at 10pm near an empty packet
of cigarettes, the sort of motif of:
let's trash the place...
      it's just one son of Hades lying on a more
elongated presence of yet another son of Hades:
copper on concrete,
   the next thing that comes after
grinding sand into glass: crunchy stone
mashed up with enough tar to make up a road...
england, of all places, has particular rooting
in a history of the roman empire,
out of all the nations that succumbed to its power
it has the most fond memories of the dusty one,
which i find quiet odd, and most of the times
slightly bewildering...
    given that i don't have it...
lucky you, an ethnic mongrel, papa was a singing
Irishman, mama was a a nigerian,
and you all ended up speaking the same tongue...
unlucky me, mongrel of the soul...
escapism of polymaths, because it makes sense,
or how mono-lingual have that thing called
patriotism and a land-to-body relantionship
in general, whatever flag is being flown...
bilinguals have a memory-to-body
relationship, it's hard to avoid it, a bit like seeing
a mountain and saying: we'll walk right through it...
so yeah,
having found a 20 quid banknote i was already
scheming for the next *****-up,
   i could already see a potential for it,
i knew it was worth something...
it's hard to see that sort of dynamic with a penny...
let's just say that sort of dynamic doesn't
exactly exist...
          the penny is fixed to the cement,
it's not moving anywhere,
    when a *** asks for spare change
you just start to think: change? spare tire?
is that equivalent?
      because money, as a concept,
as the original concept for a universal language
that everyone could suddenly understand,
or just did, once the "thing" was implemented
was the original translation vehicle...
        money is by far the sole reason we have
3 dimensional talk, why we have ambiguity,
while humanity enforcing laws is always so thesaurus
prone when talking about it,
   in the root of jurisprudence...
           i can talk idle: say things thing nothing
and then become a pedestrian to concrete items,
a daffodil, a t-****... i can relaly turn on the grey button
and it all becomes vague,
    and rarely bound to be, as a whole, bound
by a glue known as mystifying.
some might call it a case of giving account
of: ibin balām...
the other one riding a donkey...
                    or as i like to call it:
   convering with the "angel" that spared me,
who shook me into an epileptic frenzy when i was on
the verge of dying, saying:
now you, do what unto yourself, what others
did unto you.
    i have to admit, drinking myself to death is
the most pleasurable event in my life...
    it's this metalic electricity produced by my left
hemisphere, most of the time?
a bit like sitting on an electric chair,
without a wet sponge placed on my head
so that the electricity can pulverize the alveoli pattern
of my neurons... keep moist, he says,
   and i just think of my brain and the colour red,
and the decay of red, first into brown, and then into black...
and how people who deny my misery to
later become: a bit annoying, gnat-like...
still, that penny on the street,
  and how i would have reacted differently
had i found a 20 quid banknote...
and how i do...
   to see this unit of the concept, just... useless!
the concept of money becomes all the more apparent,
and i know that people in wealthy countries don't
seem to appreciate the basic unit of their currency,
they prefer fixed prices, they prefer pondering
a worth of a toothbrush, priced at a pound's worth
than care for a penny... they say
    it's so close, but so far away,
how spare change is reserved for children and beggars...
how pennies never seem to add up to anything
if you see but one on a pavement...
                it's only copper... it's not exactly gold...
ah hell... what if we really did brag about
gambling on a fixed, but an otherwise fluctuation
price of a painting?
  well... we wouldn't be saying: priceless!
   a bit like the anima of buying football players...
yes, some of us like using our minds,
to study philosophy, perhaps even lension a care
to write poetry... and all the more:
in a non-manipulative care to then translate it back
into: suppose chess?
                           only when language becomes
too 1 dimensional, or at least 2 dimensional,
i.e. verb / vector... then we're in trouble,
in the quicksand, in the mud, in the trenches...
i did mention something prior, didn't i?
ah, hebrew...
            slaves in america invented the
deconstructionism of jazz and blues...
  thank you very much... dub-step and the first
thing i think of when thinking about africa
is a drum... or knowing when and when not to
knock on things...
   i don't think the echo minds playing
that game of knocking down ginger...
    i guess i am the one left with a land
that's tattooed with germans and russians...
i get the ******* grafitti of neo-nazis who
experienced something more than the blitz...
plus, i have that Auschwitz to give caring tourists
a helping hand into sighing over...
   but all that i owe concerning myself,
ibin balām... riding my little donkey...
        ever find those riding donkeys more menacing
than those riding horses? balām, jesus, don quixote...
but it's in the alphabet of the hebrews,
i can't really get over it...
hence the original muse, a single word,
fi-lo-zof... and the concept: ayin sof...
what the greeks later made into σoφια...
yes, that monotheistic gender-neutral pronoun
some of us ascribe the noun god to...
god is such an unfatastical noun...
the real fantastic noun is the tetragrammaton...
hell... i'm convinced... i'm actually converted
in a sense of not really bothering with
the rituals... the ritual i imposed on myself
is to repeatedly think about it...
    and it really is a fantastic noun,
so mathematically fertile,
Y and the x, y, z axis of the math canvas...
and trig of W that's cosine rather than M and therefore
sine... and how the H is almost like deja vu
joke, before the tangens enters segregational...
and all i just thought is more than a thousand
bulls readied for a pagan sacrificial rite...
    it's the sof in the ayin sof that's hard to find...
say, it's easy to spew enough books to bore
a thousand people over a thousand generations
if you use a system of encoding that gives no
name to the units...
   the greeks have alpha, the romans only a.
the greeks have beta, the romans only b.
   which probably means that writing can be more
easily done, and to a greater number and extent...
but thinking? it's not really done...
people would rather be perverse and hostile and
impolite because of this shortening of said
units of sounds... which is another reason why
the anglophone world is rife with onomatopoeias...
    and how i found: singing intside your head
is half a whistle, and less than a ****...
    so how did sof come about, as a concept?
the hebrews call it ayin (nothingness),
and when next to the word sof call it
ain (without) sof (end), i.e. the endless one...
   so where did the syllable zof come in here
and where did the Greeks extend that into sophia?
i can see sof, but i can't see where it came from,
sure, there's the usual noun for a sound,
e.g. ש‎ (shin) and ך‎ (kaf)...
             forget the greeks for a moment...
  the romans wrote the music, there was no name
for a, b, c, d, e... we're talking ancient greeks,
therefore all ancients... they enclosed sounds differently
back then... the greeks ensured there was some
alphabetical cohesion, like looking
into a dictionary under the rubric o,
and finding omega, onomatopoeia and oh my god!
i know what you're thinking, semitic languages
and neanderthals... why did they persist
and having become instinct? try sanskrit and 1 billion
hindus... or the chinese... they're the same...
historically speaking...
oh please, i like the cognitive impetus of drinking:
you want to take hold of these brats on the british
isles? you have some alternative suggestion?
the roman alphabet is the gateway "drug",
i.e. א‎ (man), a, ע‎ (god), á,
  or: from above... something descending...
then i start to think it's a case of articles,
even though aleph (א) and ayin (ע) are phonetically
identical, they are totally different...
it's almost like saying: ah for that one,
and ah for a one? close proximity and the rule,
that you wouldn't say an one... but a one...
funny... english is like that, hello! welcome!
hope you realise it, without diacritical marks
being, well, i wouldn't say absolutely necessary,
but a helping hand....
too many examples to choose from,
i make so many instances of it being true that
i forget to make up my life with
a care for romantic misendeavours...
so yeah... i'm looking for O in the semitic alphabet
that still remains in use...
     hebrew... because i really can't do phonecian...
i'm loooking for the word sof...
    you know, like homeland, sol, solomon...
i want to cut off the unnecessary bits
and put a word together...
i can't seem to find a full-circle of an omicron
or omega...
  i say omega, you cut off -mega and attach an -o-,
and the thing fizzes and i write bomb!
and you cut off -elta, -psilon....
                      ah... ~appa and the need to write
pass... double consonants...
     i just wanted to write duck...
like duck the ******* bomb, rather than quack?!
the semites are a breed of people
that simply hide things, mostly vowels...
the new wave of people with robots
simply write excess number of consonants
and omit them...
     they're there, but they're only there
because there will be two layers of the same language
being inscribed... given omni-literacy...
          hence the current youth congregating under
the banner of acronyms and something akin
to sign language in their use of emojis...
  :)... no, that's bad... :(....
                                              i'm still looking
for the sof...
    the closest i came to it was with
ש‎י‎ך‎,
      it would have been easier with the greek
expression of teaching the neanderthal semites...
again, i like te jews, they're the most
"docile" / persistent semites...
   i know they're not vogue, but that's why
i rather keep hebrew than arabic...
or because of my skin, i sorta have to keep
the runes for safekeeping and upkeep...
we kept them for a reason,
    we kept the runes so this wouldn't happen,
how christianity gave us a life of psyche
but erased our origin, our alphabet,
no point calling it a "big bang",
at leas the russians got cyrilic,
and turned **** into шit...
     i'm still looking for O in hebrew, semitic,
the reason is that they're such a small number
and their phonetic encoding as as "neanderthal"
as that of sanskrit and mandarin alphabets...
  and that's the prejudice...
   i don't like it... i find all the mysteries
in my impetus to write bound to them...
    wait... weren't we not the ones stressing
the vogue of our times?
    i see a bunch of torn shirts and well worn shoes
from where i'm standing...
i'm still finding it hard to find an O in the hebrew form...
am i missing something?
    i mean, ****, cut off all the necessary
bits of greek, you get roman: alpha (a-),
      beta (b-)... and obviously the excess aesthetic
so that it all looks nice... cat, kettle, scythe...
                                           key, scatter, skew...
smooth, cool, caseload...
                 our current times will be a joke th

We drift
on the winter sun’s glints,
where the horizon is a musician’s lips
pressed tight on a horn
repeating a note in 12/8 time.
When I met you
I thought you said you were a parasol,
and I imagined you
spinning upward in a painter’s daydream.
At this moment
we find each other where things are lost,
or—let me put this better—
where we’ll never find each other again.
We’re caught in the memory of shade
as we drift
beneath the ligatures of nimbus,
or in your words a mean-loooking sky.
All bliss drips into each of us
at this moment
when we don’t feel lonely.
But I won’t share what I protect.
These confessions
are for someone else I haven’t met.

The Morning After,
ya lips touched mine,
the smell of  us from last night
the way you made my body shake,
I wake up in a state of sedated bliss,

Completely
oblivious to what's going on
around me
I find you nestled in the crook of
my arms holding on to me ,

loooking at  you,
looking so peaceful
and yeah
you should be
cuz you worked my body
like I always dream
and I can't say I blame you
cuz I gave the same to you,

I licked you and kissed you til you
begged me to stop
and as drops of you left my mouth
I let you cover me again
and repeat the steps as
we danced in the sheets,

Magically pounding me
yet so gentle
as you move into me
with me

Our bodies
flowing with the rhythm
and moving to the same tune,
I like what we did,
I cant lie
I loved it,
I didn't want to stop
couldn't get enough..,

but as we lay here  
whispering and giggling  
joking  about this blissful enconter..

I think again it's time you go
I dont want you to
but
He's coming home and
I know it's killing you to leave
but

We'll always have these memories
of the night before
and Today.....
The Morning After!
Always Me Ayeshah,

DANCE ON DADDYS ASHES CAUSE HE LEFT ME A *******,
THE ONLY LESSON HE TAUGHT ME
IS  THAT THERES MORE TO GO AFTER
THAN BEIN COOL WITH UR PASTOR AND LOVIN COLLEGE LIKE ASHER, YOU GOTTA TAKE CHARGE AND CHANGE THE WORLD CAUSE NOBODY GONE ASK YA,
AND DONT WASTE YOUR DAYS AWAY BECAUSE TIME WONT WAIT TO PASS YA,
DUMP YOUR PASSION INTO YOUR CRAFT AND SOON YOULL SEE THEM KIDS FROM YOUR CLASS RIDIN YOUR ***, HANGIN ON YOUR COATTAILS SAYIN "GET ME A GLASS"
in florida a girl woke up my soul and stirred the stagnant waters in my pools of consciousness, awakening my inner restlessness, reviving my ancient nomad and making me realize every second im on this earth I need to appreciate it and make the most of it, dance and be silly, be cute, be bold, be straightforward and mind your boundaries, hold your tongue until youre loooking her in the eyes and youre trying to telepathically ask her to kiss you and in that moment shell close her eyes and smile with no teeth just to show you shes down,
and then a laugh will echo in your head and the smell of a flea market mixes with the scent of **** on her breath,  and your heart will burn with the pain of what would come but youll smile and call her silly, turning over to change the song from pink floyd as your brain begins to weigh its options, hold your tongue till that moment then tell her shes amazing and gifted, then pick her up and dance with her or youll regret it on the ride home, DONT WASTE MOMENTS WITH PEOPLE WHO MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE EVERYONE ELSE DOESNT MATTER, THOSE PEOPLE ARE A NATURAL PART OF YOU, IF THEY CONCERN YOU MORE THAN YOUR SAFETY THATS NOT SAFE BUT ITS A SIGN, DONT IGNORE THAT FEELING BUT RATIONALLY APPRECIATE IT AND NURTURE IT. there are people out there that will step into your life like a hurricane and rain down new opportunities and emotions, embrace their strong winds and bask in their influence. After leaving Florida I was thinking Florida and her and Tennessee and I got my to my hometown, and on arrival I knew something was off. it felt as though the air was made of different things than before, signs were different colors or peoples accents seemed extreme, however slight I realized the world changes and doesnt stop, we change and only stop when we allow ourselves to, we should learn from the earth and follow our souls to happiness, our souls arent what gives in to greed and want our souls know what we need and learning to listen to mine is something im determined to do. because even though i preach it I often find myself making decisions based on mine and other peoples greed or negativity, I should make these decisions based on my own well being, and for the well being of the overall goal which is happiness and a home for my soul, this place has fed my roots for long enough and cassie and florida allowed me to realize everyone and everything is temporary and beautiful and easily changed by our own will.

Lord, My Lord you have forsaken me
You have rejected my prayers
And laughed at my tribulation

Lord, Lord you saw everything
Yet you sat there and watched
With your wine in the holy grail

Lord, I have lost my faith
You are not benevolent
Those verses spoke lies

In the brink of death it was not you that I saw
But it was rather the devil that comforted me
Yet I was still loooking for you

You have abandoned me, in my isolation I've lost my sanity
Hatred became my dearest friend
Grievance was now my lover.

With this I no longer knew nor understood my self
I was now torn between praying or dying
Would I go back to your arms? Or continue my resentment towards you?