I do NOT write "poetry".
I do write words.
I cannot write "poetry".
I do write words.
I do not want to write "poetry".
I do write words.
Ive never "seen" myself as a "poet".
I spend my time avoiding the mediocracy of **** licking criticism
unlike every so-called "poet" I ever met.
I watch as "poets"wallow in the slough of narcissicism.
Ive never want to be called a "poet".
I do not want to be immersed in the depth of narcissicism
where "poets" spend their lives.
What an insult to be compared to a "poet".
any "poet" even Josef Stalin or Mao Tse Tung or the Dali Lama who all wrote 'poetry'..
"poets" make their homes in  the heights of false humility.
Edward Lear would be the height of unanimity
in his approval of my nonsensical behaviour.
I should throw all of my words out my window
for all the good they'll do.
I have no name or identity.
I have no name or identity.
Names only exist in official documents.
I know who I am.
I am the individual Isness.
Which is a small but equal,individual,independent,nameless,
formless,genderless and non physical Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe and incarnated in this human body.
Reborn lifetime after lifetime after lifetime until I let go, permanently,
of Mind and Conditioned Identity and become Isness realised
which is the true goal in life for all humans.
I have no mind or conditioned identity.
There are words that are a call sign to the ears in this body.
Words that are not uttered by the mind driven liars
on these threads,with their asinine cries
for their conditional love and the possessiveness it engenders.
This is but my latest in a string of bodies
since I left the Isness of the Universe at the very beginning of existence .
Bodies that have been the vehicle for me,the individual Isness,
to be incarnated in since existence began
before the dawn of time or space or .
Ive read my words out aloud in Edingburgh.
Ive read out aloud my words in Formentera and Ibiza and Tanger
and Paris and Amsterdam and Delhi and Calcutta and Bangkok and lots more cities of EVIL and repression.
Ive read out aloud my words in Better Books in London.
I stood next to Bart Huges with Lee Bridges,
one night in  1967 reading words from a blank page--
with Jimi playing round the corner.
I stood in the square of Saviours in the north and
shouted my non-violent words
at the crowd of violent supporters of the Oligarchy.
I am definitely NOT a "poet".
Oh no!.
Wouldn't want to be a "poet".
Oh no!.
I don't write "poetry".
Not ****** likely.
Oh no!.
I only write strings of meaningful associated words.
Or write strings of meaningful dissasociated words.
Or write just words--supply your own unjust meanings.
Wouldn't want to write "poetry".
Sooner write how I adore the flowing lines a curvaceous ****,
or a dragon fly hovering over a Marguerite--irridescant,
or licking a sweet smelling dripping ****--licky lips,
or a cloud floating by serene and bubbly,
or having a stiff **** in my mouth dribbling precum,
or a night sleeping on the banks of the Ganges
alone with humanity as my bed companion,
emptying the warm fresh contents of the attached *****
into my eager mouth,
or the soft grip of a baby monkeys fingers around mine,
or slipping a length of my hot flesh into the **** or **** of the beloved,
or the sublimity of a crunchy salad with balsamic dressing.
"poetry" is so boring compared with these verses and chapters
of experiential knowingness.
"poetry" is used as a beard by"religions" with their vain and bloodthirsty "gods" and "goddesses" and untrustworthy mendacious corrupt but pleasant priests.
"poetry" is used by Monarchs and other assorted Tyrants to proclaim
the " phoney kinship" they have with these vain and bloodthirsty
"gods"and "goddesses" as they enrich themselves with the gold teeth of their willing victims.
"poetry" is used by cruel dictators to proclaim their phoney kinship with the uneducated uncultured and unwashed  masses
as they lead them to the pits of mental slavery and destruction.
All these narcissistic scribblers proclaiming themselves
to be this or that or the other--when all they actually are
is a bag of nothing but cold air--that turns into just-ice..
Insecure and vain destroyers of ancient trees,
filling pages with their deranged and strangled but beautiful syntax. .
Inane tossers of epithets murdering prose with tongues
stored in the knife drawer and sharpened daily
on dead peoples bones...
fake humility abounds among "poets".
Arrogant professors of greeting card messages.
Throw your scribbles to the winds.
Let nature rot them in the garbage can of history or her story.
Fozzywhockered.
Fozzywhockered.
Fozzywhockered.

www.thefo­urnobletruthsrevised.co.uk

Mediocracy...
these words I write
governed by a
standstill, at-war democracy
that's got me medio-crazy,
executively lazy
judgmentally hazy,
and lawfully spacey,
running on as their own prisoner-of-war escapees
in search of freedom from the ordinary
and overly, extraordinarily
conservative binds
that constrict the construction
of these hardly courtly,
yet ordered lines.

independent minds
and critical thinkers
led to the gallows
and burnt on stakes.

but without dissent,
valid or not,
there is no progress,
just stagnation.

life is too easy
and people complacent.
numbed by gimmicks
that steal our time.

a downward spiral
of mediocracy ensues.
all leading to a
tyranny of the few
and ****** revolutions
when their lies collapse.

Looking at pain
From the inside out
Stepping off steep
Into an unknown, falling
Loose and tightly wound
At once
In one
Spinning straight-line lies
Wanting them to be true
From here to there exists
No mess between
No life
No humanity
No mess
Only simple
Straight-line lives
Like the heartbeats of our politicians

Got no room for deviation into mountains
Down to earth
Got no time for beats and bravery
Floating on in mediocracy
No, democracy
My mistake
Found a word and made it look
Like cool
Made it sound like hope
Made it work like ****
To cover up the sins of what was truth

Not pure or real
But what was on
Got hammering down
Got seeping in
Got on with getting on
Dig pocks in Devon and call it progress
Take chunks of the mama and look surprised
As she spits us all out from her centre
You, me and everyone who had no idea

Who sat behind their 5 mile screen and said
**** happens
When it was about the starvation

And said
More’s the pity
When it was about monstrosity

And said
Gotta be thankful
When it was about the tanks and the bombs and the guns
In some other guys garden

And screamed
What the **** is going on here
With tears and snot and terror all over their tan-stained brows
When the phone broke
And the plane was late
And the dog shat
And the restaurant ran out of hors de ******* oeuvres.

It’s a ******* sin, that’s what it is
To call yourself a restaurant and not have what’s on the ******* menu.

A ******* sin.

The world’s gone to ******* ruin.

Buy me Barrack Obama and let’s call it evens.

i'm not interested

in living anymore

i don't want to die
living just doesn’t hold much interest for me

i don't feel good

i don't feel happy
only tired

tired tired
 always tired
i live in a perpetual nothingness

i can never find words
they lodge in the back of my throat and spiral out flat

may as well cut my vocal chords out
and replace them with yarn
maybe i’ll be able to string sentences together then

i’m buried in layers of ink and skin
they allow me to close my eyes and fall away
into my own personal oblivion

where it's dark and jazzy elevator music plays in the background
and there’s no sharp pings under numb detachment

there's a different breed of darkness to my oblivion
it's soft and shadowy
rippling over all my anxieties like a velvet tide
light shines in dusty shafts from no set direction
it doesn't illuminate anything
it’s nicer that way

i forgot what happiness feels like
not this halfway happiness that’s induced by comfort food and fuzzy blankets
but real happiness
that comes from deep inside of your being and spirals and glows

this is just a long complaint

hem hem

observation
about me

my life

is it really mine?

i feel so detached from it

i spend more time in dreams than i do in it
sweeping castles of words and swing sets that swing themselves


can i just leave?
fade away
into my oblivion
the one with the jazz music and the infinite velvet walls
i've come pretty close
may as well go all the way

i'm an inadequate mess of negativity
i can't function quite right anymore
unfunny angry pathetic boring
i'm me
and i don't hate me
hate is a strong word
i'm just tired
a slowly graying towel
long used and recently wrung-out
hung up to dry
dripping mediocracy onto a standard tile floor

ha

i'll show myself out

Raised on instant gratification
rewarded for *******  
spread out on our screens
society based on ratings

Like bad movie critics,
we send mixed signals to artists
confuse our creatives
and give pleasure to mediocracy

We’re old souls
in new bodies with prosthetic limbs of plastic and glass
extensions of our memories and minds
we’ve built a reliance on them

One day when the sky cracks in half
satellites will fall from space
we will all be crushed by
The fruits of our progress
killing us slow.

writing life on the upbeat
no mean feat
when riding pell mell
down to bowels of hell
on a harley fatboy
bought as look at me ploy
with a kooky sidecar
of sarcastic sidebar
talking of friends
my god  are
we are all just lemmings
to mediocracy in the end

What does a world consist of today?
mediocracy?
illusion leaving people disillusioned
Tall tales we tell
lies that soak up our pain
claiming
never being
hearing
never listening
questions
never really having a purpose or meaning
relationships started
ending in the in between
people scared of feelings they were taught to
stay clear
conscious way of being
tall tales we tell
soon believing
altering what others actually see
manipulating others
seducing the weak
imitating power
pretending what we are is what we are not
silent conversations had between eyes
thoughts that are powerful
things we try to forget
books scattered all over my floor
self help
self made
self taught
choice to go out
seeing people
familiar lonely faces
preying on them
recklessly living
potentially recking a long term friendship
becoming something
we never thought we'd be
realizing
I am just an animalistic human being
living from experience to experience
experiencing life in many altered ways
leading to a skewed way of seeing
the world and everything we try to be

Someone suggests that, "It is not wisdom
But authority that makes a law." Al,
With an obvious emphasis on the but, but,
As Confucius relates, people should be free.
With that all Americans agree, authority
That isn't wizened breaks life's Spirit,
Espirit de vie, instead of fostering it,
Realizing a people like the autocratic
Oligarchic narcissistic nihilist-in-chief,
Self-possessed to the point of being
A king-kong sized terrible-two, like his
Executive branch, which he's molded
Into rot, and it's attempting to destroy
The tree, this country, 'Turtle Island'.

So the as backwards remocrat approach,
While in ascendancy, because dempublicans
Didn't fight their hacking of our elections
Hard enough, isn't real or right, and
'Though it has come to pass, it's not
To stay, so say one and All. "..We(e),.."
Will not be undone, by the mediocracy
That thinks with spooned nose, speaks
With forked tongue, destroying democracy.
A society, fostered by progressing
Civilization, not a cleptocracy fueled
By technocracies' ravaging of the Earth.
For e.g., Confucian's 'Hanfu', "Heaven
Above, Earth below", manifests harmony.

Where man is betwixt, plumb, in balance.
It starts with individuals and "discipline,
Being the art of feeling awe..", Casteneda,
A combination of Jung's integrated self,
With Adler's integration into community,
A Sartrean freedom: "..we are free because
We are not a self, but a presence-to-self,
The transcendence, nihilation of our self.
We're other to our selves, that whatever we
Are or whatever others may ascribe to us,
We are in the manner of not being it.", no
Longer ego ridden, a tool in la machine's
Hand, rather, as it began, man weilding
Tools to better life, in nature's balance.

We can't go back to the righteousness of
Chief Seattle's, "..no one can own the land",
We can tread lightly, stalking ourselves,
Giving back to nature's abundance, a healthy
Skepticism, it's not the self-sacrificed when
We do what needs to be done, rather the false
Ego sacrificed at Thee's altar within.  Then,
As we left no footprints that followed none,
They will echo in all ways, and on, always.
So, on this tragic 50 th Memorial of the
Assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
Let us remember his shining example, and his
Spirits, "...judging not lest ye be judged's"
Compassion for his neighbor, "...treated as

He wanted to be", for he wanted to be more,
Ever studiously growing.  His dream was for
All who choose awakening.  So too, those who
Suffer, and suffer from false-ego, and
Its projections, in mental cells, built of
Walls of delusions, with bricks of illusions,
Their personal hells, shouldn't be judged
Autocratically, as laws can work and be
Compassionately applied.  Also, even
Though, King pulled "..the arc of the moral
Universe bends towards justice" out of his
As, we know, if we take bullets we aren't
Making them, addressing personal injustices
Stops them from becoming global ones too.

If we don't exercise our responsibilities
Their Siamese twin sisters, freedoms,
Will wither like unused muscles, as well.
"You can't dismantle the man's house with the
Man's tools (materialism)", Audrey, Gandhi's,
"Be the change you want to see in the world,
The root of all oppression lies in (supposed)
Science", though he pulled "Satyagraha", out
Of his as.  What we don't matters as much as
What we do, the manner in which we don't or
Do things brings light, life to them or it
Doesn't, those most attached to life or
Death are more closely death, live on your
Feet or die continually on your knees.  
  
You see, while might might make right, it
Always makes wrong, and fraternity rules.
Just because the invisible coup's lie,
"Hillary's not perfect", was let fly by some
Dinos, linos, sinos, ginos, ainos, hackers,
Kremlin kronies now in the kluckahouse, wicked
Leaks, 20 % of Bernie or bust bots, the US
Intelligence/police industrial complex, (who,
Like king george + his ****, cheney, purposely
Didn't prevent the attacks on 9-11-01, they
Didn't prevent the hacking of our 11-8-16
Elections, installing Trumpler, attempting to
Realize a borne again cold war, extreme theft
Of tax $, etc.) doesn't mean the world must

Fall to Ebony, ivory, the Black and white
Supremacies' cannibalizing the future, tax
Dolla's, in perfect harmony, to replicate the
Past's supposed: profits, pleasures + powers.
"..We(e),.." can stop ivory's: removal of DACA,
Reproductive, healthcare, and voting rights,
Blacks not having to wait till 2040 to get
Another President, instead they can get one in
2020, potentially, etc., for Ebony, and stop
Ebony's getting: rid of zero-tolerance in
Public school + harsh law, shorter sentences,
Earlier releases + paroles, waving of crack
Convictions, extreme war funding, gutting of
EPA's work, etc., for ivory, by dispelling the

Delusional construct of materialism, that
Actual religion, bi-headed, of the false gods
Of mammon, wealth, avarice, and mollock,
Extreme violence, grinding up seed (behind
The masks of Christians, Hindus, Atheists,
Etc.), exemplified in those merx for more's
Through to mercs for unnecessary unending
War's war machine, oiled by the blood of non:
United **** of assassins citizens, white,
Upper-middle-class to rich, supposed
Christians, which most worship, separating
"It from of the state", which is demanded by
The Constitution.  Then we can struggle to
Denotseefy the rest of the 21 flavors of, in

This 'baskin and robbins' of, supremacy.
Only then will this criminal conspiracy of
Criminal conspiracies again resemble a
Nation.  For e.g., take the trillion ton ice-
Cube that just dropped in the drink, coasts
Flooded costing us billions, so oil corps.
Can make even more $, making the egg shaped
Planet into a sphere, denaturing the Earth's
Defenses against the astronomical forces of
The Sun, Moon and continually degrading the
Earth's orbit around them.  It's God's tear,
And as a single tears story is seldom told,
That flood will wipe us out, like the lose
Of $ to get a photo of a golfer on Mars will.

When there's nothing else to say,
Tomorrow is today.

SOCIETY: The Musical!

I say, "Hellow!"
and you say "hy."
We're so mellow,
Or maybe shy.

We come from a different point of view
Somehow i feel like i'm a part of you
I love mankind, like we all want to do.
Intention is the law.

Relating to laughter will make you fall.
We are a temple of the Holy Ghost and we won't fall!
Rise from the ashes,
Rise from the flames.
You great Phoenix,
YOU MYTH OF ATHENS.

We are the masters of our own poverty,
The author and the finisher of our poem.
Make your poem great.

Philosophy is for the mediocre
Mediocracy is in our blood.
The poor give a sermon to the rich.

Poetry made physics weep:
The sun is more than gravity and heat...
The poor know that much.

And by the Grace of God
I speak the truth,
And the peace of attaining no goal
Ohhh..! Hope and long for it!!!
For it is the end of endings
And the beginning of Forever.

I am the cultivations of civilisations and cultures
pulled like skin over a drum across oceans and continents,
An amalgamation of nations,
a mosaic of traits and tricks of the trade and familiar faces and swirling DNA

I am a product of my time,
a member of the wasted youth, existing in the chasm between philosophy and mediocracy, democracy and demolition, truces and the truth

I am a night thinker and a daydreamer, I have flowers in my hair and demons in my heart,
I'm a chain smoker;
a broken individual at best

I'm a money chaser, a risk taker, a pretty little heart breaker, a liberal, a time waster, an anything but what I should be.

I am here and now,
gone by tomorrow,
a hedonist at heart,
rising and falling like a setting sun

She fuelled all my bad habits in the best way possible.

I've never met perfection but she was the closest I ever came to feeling worthy of someone above mediocracy.

She judged me, dissected me, took what she wanted from me,
bus tickets and all.
Took my opinions and moulded them into a formula for the perfect human,

She was the dirt that clinged to my skin
like whispers of where ive been without telling a soul

And i let her be everything when I was her nothing
I let her
I let her devour me whole
and I gave her every last morsel of my soul
and let her wipe her sin stained hands all over my insecurities,
leaving me sullied,
even more so than before.

I let her take my hand and drag me to hell
because it meant I would be by her side
burning.
What I didn't realise was that she had an escape route planned,
my only escape was to grow accustomed to flames.

It seems it's the people who you love the most are the people who you allow to hurt you more than any physical pain you ever felt before. Because pain of the body will heal, you cannot repair trust or hearts the like a punctured tire

She took my hand and told me 'chin up buttercup, you'll never be the first, the last, or the only **** up'

She lit me up
Took a drag from my roll up
Flashed me a smile that would make every sinner weak at their knees

But she's in love with a New Yorker now

And that was the end of us

raskol tells me that
we don't have to live in a
mediocracy.

I can't tell the difference between
my life spiralling out of control and
falling into place.
So I spend my days making up
for the past one,
Trying to hold onto myself whilst
having no idea who I am
and reading poetry at 4am
trying to imitate it's words and
calling it art.

But I am hungry, thirsting
for more,
mediocracy does not
satisfy me yet
I was not made for great things.
So I fade away, run, become
intangible
so you cannot reach me because
I was not meant
for your world.

Liberal Hillary for notsee Trumpler,
Dempublicans for remocrats,
Because the invisible coup lied,
Hillary's "not perfect", was all
The excuse dinos, linos, sinos, ginos,
Ainos, kremlin kronies, hackers, wicked
Leaks, Bernie or bust bots, needed.

The worst, US intelligence/police industrial
Complex, who, like king george and his
****, Cheney, purposely not preventing the
Attacks on 9-11-01, they didn't prevent the
Hacking of our 11-16 elections, installing
Trumpler and attempting to realize a borne
Again cold war, extreme theft of tax $, etc..

Potential democracy for mediocracy,
Peace and prosperity for Ebony, ivory,
The Black and white supremacies'
Cannibalizing the future, for e.g.,
Tax dolla's, in perfect harmony,
To replicate the past's supposed:
Profits, pleasures, and powers.

$12. to $15. an hour minimum wage,
Reproductive and healthcare rights
Progressed, et al, for the Black
Supremacy getting: a President in 2020,
Potentially, instead of waiting till
2040, 'cause, "once you go Black you
Never go back", extreme war funding, etc..

"...We(e),...", used to know to: not
Grind up the seeds, let our kid's as...
Be, and let them be kids, the real
Deficits realized are astronomically
Higher, like when the trillion ton
Ice cube was dropped in the drink,
Cooling things off for a bit, but,

Heating them up forever, burning,
Flooding, extincting everything.  We can,
Individually, turn 360 degrees around,
Back to The Evolution, the future, humans
Will only have if we do.  By changing
Everything, swapping criminal insanity
For sanity, exigency for humanity, again.

I wish to experience sober the bravery of drunk
I wish to experience adult the immediacy of childhood
I wish to experience the unconstrained love of the innocent and unbroken
I wish to emerge myself in the hope of he who has never suffered disappointment
We all get the possibility to live life at its fullest
Why do we aim for satisfaction and settle for even less?
Mediocracy is a principle of averageness, but ought never to be a goal in itself
Unique. Human. Individuals.
Do not forget your pride
Do not underestimate the value of true joy
I do believe in charity
Do I believe in Me?

In the jungle i grew
Braveness was a call. Mediocracy critized
And togetherness built!

Luck was hard to catch
Though i swarm to you,
The Deepest inn of the picture
All for one like a captured shadow.
Which waves can sail us apart
When the future already wrote our history in smiles
To the deep sea of humans my eye netted you,
My blood fused you,
My hearted stamped you in.
Neednt i have to lock?,
....You are diagonized to stay!

A fueling joy, a stripped happiness, naked money with an invitation to treat.
A fuse to swapping rejoice, a price worth paid for all the lost tears

Through the struggle and the strife
Every single day of life
Did it ever cross our minds to think
That the ladder we would climb
In our daily 9 to 5
Would turn out to be this slippery

We started down this crooked road
With the highest of highest hopes
Thinking there was nothing we could not achieve
Little did we know
Our daily do's would all be don'ts
And we would settle from mediocracy

Moving up and down, in and out
To the sounds of not allowed
Bringing it all close to the brink
We can try and figure out
This riddle filled with doubt
Humming to its tune while skipping beats

Now all we seem to do is strive
Just to try and make it by
Hoping we'll at least see some relief
It didn't start out this way
All out to break the bank
Now all we do is settle for mediocracy

Although I hate
I don't wish ill on other
sometimes I do though
Either way, there are times
when ill wishes for us

And though this is the case
don't look up
for if you look up
                       you will create a second mask
                                                           but fear not
                      This is not a guide
instead this is just but a hindrance
that I shall impose on thee
For I am not omniscient
nor
objective

I am just a fool born with their confidence
so that is why I trust that you see
and believe me when I say,
don't look up

You would need to break you neck in order to look up
now with all these excuses in your head

                                        Look up
For you are not done yet
you are just like the others
                                        So reach
for everything you can
from the galaxies,
to the teary moon you see

for We are waiting
for We are who have gone through mediocracy
and a cold part of hell
for We are not done yet with everything