Once there was a president,
Cold and heartless, who set about
Finding ways to make his country
Great by keeping migrants out.

"We'll place soldiers along our southern
Border," said the nation's boss.
"That way we can easily stop
Migrants from making their way across.

"And if the migrants become unruly,
The soldiers can shoot them, one by one."
Advisers turned to the president
And said, "No, sir, that can't be done."

"Then let the soldiers shoot the migrants
Low, low, in the ankles or thighs.
We will see the unwelcome
Migrants start to drop like flies."

Advisers looked at their boss and said,
"Sir, that's also out of the question."
The president, getting angry now,
Said, "Then here's another suggestion:

"We will build a moat along
Our border wall and fill that moat
With alligators and venomous snakes."
That idea made him gloat.

"And then we'll add spikes to the wall--
Spikes that can penetrate human flesh.
Find me the cost for all of this,
Or else we'll have to start afresh."

Suddenly, he said, "I know:
We'll just change asylum laws
And separate the families.
That should give the migrants pause."

Hard, hard the administration
Worked together to find a plan,
Using words like "riff-raff," "invaders,"
"Dangerous threats," and "caravan."

The whole world watched in horror,
Lamenting how democracy fails
When an unfit elected leader
Goes completely off the rails.

-by Bob B (10-4-19)

We witness the scenes of overflow
fleeing from the throes of war..
Images of suffering
edges our comfort..
All are migrants
this our hidden condition..
We seek out there
as the distant beacons..
Longings are embedded in
present places..

Might we see as common
the seeking of migrants there
and our continual seeking..
We and they look for happiness
in that new place
a human seeking
for the grace
flooding
each and all...

I.
Time passes, another
batch of refugees and migrants. Cities turn into
new houses of gambling and vicious cycles.
Some say only machines can speak clearly
and most humans have lost what they have earned
throughout all this time, just right on schedule.

To own our language,
and the relationships it sets into motion,
we learn painfully, repeatedly like sunrise
and sunsets.
Claiming our own spaces and demons
hidden in our conveniences and reflex routines,
and learning the tricks that has kept peoples
from fully healing from broken promises
and betrayals throughout time.

We own up to our language and its demons
every day and night that we toss and turn
into something feasible, edible, livable.


II.
Iba ibang uri ng digma.
duguang kasaysayang binabaong buhay
binubura ang lakas at memorya tulad ng siyudad
ng Songdo sa South Korea na ang ibig sabihin
ay "city with no memory".

Ito din ang isa sa mga modelo para sa New Clark City
na tinatayo sa Luzon. Sa dalawahang mga pamamaraan
ng mga naghahari-harian, nakikibaka ang anakpawis,
nakikibaka ang kamalayan ng pagpapasya at pagwasto
sa mga pagkakamali, na paulit-ulit na sinusubukang
patayin sa iba ibang mukha.

Mula pa sa panahon ng mga lolo at lola noong 1940s
hanggang ngayon, patuloy ang mga pag-eexperimento nila at paggamit ng panlilinlang  at dahas, sa ngalan ng kalusugan, edukasyon at batas, upang ipain ang buhay sarili, lasunin ang lupang kinakain ang sarili. Kung hindi tayo mag-aaral at mag-iingat din, tayo mismo ang papatay sa mga sinisimulan. #

AWAKENING

Sleep and slumber, dreams of wonder... weaving,
morning’s vacuum broke the spell
Pitted pillow, note of parting... leaving,
“from your friend, a fond farewell”
Sunrise throbbing, twilight aching... grieving,
daydreams, flashbacks, nightmares knell
Pale phantasms, visions sneaking... thieving,
plot to fill the empty shell

12 DELIRIA

1st Delirium: COLLAPSES

Fractured sky bolts, billows bursting... rumbling,
heavens tighten, turn the vise
Horsemen saddle shafts of lightning... tumbling,
jagged highways must suffice
Ruptured skyways, hailstones crackling... crumbling,
naked pearls of paradise
Toxic tongues of laughter stinging... stumbling,
ocean buckets choked with ice
Droplets drumming, thunder muzzled... mumbling,
washed out whispers pay the price
Smothered blazes, cinders smoking... humbling,
ashes shaped in sacrifice

2nd Delirium: DESCENTS

Asphalt alleys, ashen faces... frowning,
blowing bubbles, chewing gum
Drinking ale from tavern tankards... downing,
moonlit beads of painted ***
Stony stars and sea misshapen... drowning,
humble rivers’ rhythms hum
Apparitions aspirating... clowning,
diamonds dying , minstrels strum
Incandescent candles conquered... crowning,
vacant vapours, cold and numb

3rd Delirium: FATES

Tempest turmoil, tapered turrets... holding,
dungeons, dragons, chains and racks
Wheels of fortune, Tarot temptress... molding,
Hangmen, Towers, One Eyed Jacks
Sand dune castles, cryptic candles... folding,
warping walls of liquid wax
Idols colder, combed and coddled... scolding,
hide in fissures, peek through cracks

4th Delirium: LOST SOULS

Sunken cities, pilgrims peering... gawking,
squinting eyeballs, blazing sun
Janus facing, shepherds chasing... stalking,
friends embrace before they shun
Tearooms steaming, tumult teeming... talking,
lovers listen, poets pun
Broken stones unanchored, quaking... rocking,
slipping, falling, one by one
Beaten pathways, footsteps marking... mocking,
wedged in webs which spiders spun
Circus shelters, big tops tumbling... locking,
people pacing, soon they’re none
Numbered exits, zeros numbing... knocking,
midnight daylight’s days undone
Moon blood shackles, shivers shaming... shocking,
starlight striders streaking, stun
Hushed but harried hermits waiting... walking,
restless rainbows on the run
Pixies, elves, and echoes bouncing... balking,
fading fast when dawn’s begun
Bantum butterflies are flitting... flocking
sometimes conquered, overrun
Hocus pokus, seers focus... squawking,
voodoo wavered, witchcraft won

5th Delirium: INTROSPECTION

Sundown furnace, fires fading... coughing,
dusky dew drops drain the air
Empty chalice, sipped in silence... quaffing,
thirsting shadows unaware
Looking glass and lattice scorning... scoffing,
local loser gapes and stares
Faces covered, dancing naked... doffing,
peering inside, hope despairs

6th Delirium: THE VOID

Tales of taboos, mystic mythos... missing,
windows shuttered, bolted door
Kindled candles, tongues and anvils... hissing,
heavy hammers, echoes roar
Dark deceivers, raven charmers... kissing,
draging demons from the shore
Hopeless hollows filled with doubters... dissing
standing empty - nevermore

7th Delirium: SEARCHING

Martyred monks haunt runic ruins ... waiting,
banging broken bells below
Vaulted hallways, voided voices... grating,
churning Chinese chimes aglow
Granite graveyards, spectres spooking... skating,
blackened bushes, roses grow
****** dwarfs seek mutant migrants... mating,
packing parcels, ice and snow

8th Delirium: NIGHTTIME

Throbbing drumheads, fingers blazing... steaming,
coins of copper, beggars plea
Rusty residues of resin... streaming,
opal amber filigree
Orphan shades in shallow shadows... teeming,
steeping twigs in twilight tea
Cloister doorsteps, Prophets gaming... scheming,
tracing tracks of destiny
Blacksmiths blanching, horseshoes glowing... gleaming,
partially sheathed in black debris
Phantoms feigning, nightmares scathing... screaming,
dusty dreamers drifting free

9th Delerium: EMPTYNESS

Water wheels in wastelands... turning,
drowning relics in the slum
Rumpled rags of fashioned burlap... burning,
lit by bandits blind and dumb
Pastured prisons, ponies bridled ... yearning,
forest fairies under thumb
Sounds inside of cauldrons coughing... churning,
blaring bugles, tattooed drum

10th Delirium: ALIENATION

Rain unravelling, wistfully weeping... falling,
treacle trickling, fickle sky
Mushrooms sprinkled, visions sprouting... sprawling,
seagulls drowning, dolphins die
Rabble gasping, spirits broken... crawling,
lonely lonesome swallows cry
Babbling brooks and breakers ebbing... bawling
puppies paddle, puppets sigh
People passing ripple past me... calling,
rainbow colours, collars high
Chaos seething, lepers looting... stalling,
stealing stallions on the sly
Pencils pausing, scholars scrambling... scrawling,
scratching scribbles, asking why

11th Delirium: JETSAM

Silver sails sway pallid pirates... prowling,
Jolly Rogers, wind and sound
Parrots perching, tattered feathers... fouling,
tethered talons, tied and bound
Shipwrecked foghorns, trumpets stranded... howling,
spiral springs of time unwound
Magic moonlight, shimmers shaking... scowling,
burnt out matchsticks washed aground
Prairie wolfs, coyotes calling... yowling,
witching hours, midnight hounds
Tightrope walkers, grizzlies grunting... growling,
seeking islands, lost and found

12th Delirium: RELIEF

Slumber shattered, vapours captive... haunting,
chained in mirrors, breaking free
Scarlet skylines, daylight dawning... daunting,
rivers rushing to the sea
Silence softens, sandmen whisper... wanting,
piercing rafters, turning keys
Shadows shudder, notions fluster... flaunting,
moonbeam bullets meant for me
Mind in migraine, meadows trembling... taunting,
sparrows speak in harmony

REAWAKENING

Pitter patter, teardrops paling... pearling,
salting scarves in secret drawers
Mist amongst us, smoke rings rising... curling,
climbing from the ocean floors
See-saw circles, senses swerving... swirling,
swept away with silver oars
Courtyard jesters, sceptres twisting... twirling,
push the past to foreign shores
Passing pangs of passions heaving... hurling,
burning bridges, closing doors
Roses wither, icons waning... whirling,
time decays and time restores

Voyaging for grass green
And fortune to a foreign
Land, at sea many met--
The migrants--their death.

Thousands of miles' flight
leaving behind inhospitable terrain
for life and warm sunlight
the migrants are back again!

None can to this day
with any certainty say
how they don't ever stray
navigate perfectly the long way!

Never in their path they are lost
as they fly from the land of frost
in rhythmic unison like a rhyme
intent to reach the warmer clime!

My place is where they come
they find here warmth and welcome
winter guests for some time's restful peace
come summer them we will sorely miss!

There are grapes in my path
This abundant trail
now invisible as if we never were
Here, to pick and preen, salvage and reap
for pleasure and pain
I picked you some flowers,
I baked you a pie,
labors of love
with your own hands
connected to earth.

Breaking backs, and clinging sweat
Under wool, denim, straw, and cotton
Keeping more out than simply the sun
Depleted soil
Exhausted soul
Bursting with juice
Bountiful and hand chosen

And you in a hurry just drive by
Dust in the wind
Skin of clay mud
Day after day,
A boulder among the rows
Hunched in fields
Blistered and callused
Searching for more
Ripe for the picking
Migrants moving
Servitude by season
Benevolent harvest
Handpicked strawberries
By chocolate covered hands
destined from birth
closer to earth.

Talk-show queen
Oprah Winfrey with her entourage
is going to Australia
and it’s timely now for a quick Colbert Report
on the state of the colony of Australia
Colony?
Yes, that’s right
Australia is still a British colony -
How else do you explain it?
as the Head of Government in Australia
is still the British Monarchy
and her Majesty, the Queen of Great Britain,
has her representative
a Governor-General in Australia;
and the Aussie national media faithfully reports
that Prince Philip is a God in some remote island
and the TV stations broadcast visions of
which British Prince kissed which of their latest fancy
And so, Oprah, welcome to the Colony
Ah, yes, and the Chinese migrants coming in
are surprised to learn of Australia’s status
at citizenship ceremonies
and the young man explains to his grandma:
“Oh, Foreign Devil still control Australia;
sad, Chairman Mao did not Liberate Australia.”
And Indian migrants, much to their disappointment
are heard to remark:
“Oh no – does this mean we still have
to go through another fight for freedom as in 1947?”
But then they are consoled by the fact
that a Gandhi only comes once in 200 years
so we can all still get on with our lives
and the nation will continue
to eat burgers and enjoy barbecues and hop like kangaroos
until such things may happen…
Ah well, dear talk-show Queen Oprah Winfrey
and her entourage
this ends our report on the sovereign nation down under:
Happy Stay in Her British Majesty’s Colony

I like to watch the documentaries
The human stories I like those

The Syrian refugees
Stuck in Calais, France

A mother and her son
And the son's leg was injured

The reporter interviewed them
But he had to leave because
The rest of the group didn't
Want them getting attention

They didn't have a way
To make it to England
Some migrants managed to
Get into the back of trucks

The son made jokes
As he had difficulty walking
What a strong person

So I remind myself not to complain
As some people have much harder lives

We’d been to concert at the Town Hall. It was a Saturday night and still early for a Saturday Night Out. So many people on the streets. The girls barely dressed, the boys bouncing around in t-shirts. Older people threaded along the pavements walking purposefully, but ‘properly’ dressed, and now making their way, as we were, for the station.

I know He noticed her because He stopped, momentarily. We were holding hands. He loves to hold my hand. That evening I remember squeezing his hand firmly as if to say how pleased I was He was here and I was not walking to the station alone. I have done this, walking to the station alone, so often. It is good to have someone close at such times, someone to talk to about the performance, the music, what is going on around us. We walked right past them.

I noticed the man first and then the child. He was very tall, very dark, wearing a black leather jacket I think. He was not scruffy so much as untidy, dark and untidy, with curly hair that did not know a comb. He was busking. He sang an incomprehensible song in a language I didn’t recognize, playing an electric guitar plugged into a small amplifier by his feat. He turned from side to side as he sang as though looking for an audience. I remember his trainers and the soft guitar case open on the pavement with a smattering of coins. Then, this child.

Over the last two days I’ve examined the scene in my memory. I’ve sought to recall as much as I can about this little girl. She was not that little I think for her age, perhaps seven or eight. Stocky. Thick golden brown hair. A sensible skirt covering her knees, a fawn jumper with some sparkly decoration. Tights or long socks perhaps. Proper shoes. I keep examining my mind’s photo. What I recall most vividly was her large smiling eyes and her expression. This is my daddy, it said. He’s singing and I’m here looking after him. I’m his smiley girl here on the city street. It’s late. Other children back home would be in bed, but I’m here smiling at the people passing.

Yesterday we talked about this couple, the little girl mostly. He brought the subject up. He’d been thinking about her too. He’d been puzzling over the two of them. As a pair they seemed so physically different, hardly father and daughter. It was the (possible) daughter’s gaze, her twinkling eyes that had spoken to him - as they had spoken to me. This is my daddy, those eyes and that smiley face had said. And she was holding a bear.

Why did I not mention the bear until now? Of course, she was holding her bear. She had both arms around her bear. She was hugging her bear to herself. It was a mild evening for March – she wore no coat. He looked a good bear, not too old or small, not the kind of bear she’d been given in infancy, perhaps recently acquired but well-loved, well-hugged. A bear that seemed entirely right for her age, for her slightly old fashioned clothes. The sort of clothes I might have worn as a child. I think of a photo of me at that age dressed in a Cloth-Kits dress, with an Alice band, with glasses and lots of curly hair.  

He said ‘I’ve been wondering about the two of them. Did they have a home? Where would they go to when it became late?’ Was there a mother? Was she working somewhere on that Saturday night and the father had to take the girl. Was she wearing her best clothes? She looked OK. A glowing, healthy face, a face that reflected the bright, coloured lights of the city street.’

Suddenly, I realised there were tears in his eyes. I thought, He is imagining a story. He is imagining a story of this seven year old who should have been tucked up in bed with her bear, like my little boy with his blue blanket. He was imagining her life., her past in some Eastern European town, where she went to school, where she had friends and relatives, where she had been born and brought up, and been loved. And now the girl was here in this not so distant city. Perhaps illegally, without the papers, smuggled in as so many are. Her father, swarthy, even a tinge of the Roma perhaps, but she so different. It was the golden brown hair. Thick hair, a ribbon tied in it. A pink ribbon.

He had thought of his little girl, now fifteen, only when she was that age, seven. Oddly similar in some ways, the thick hair, the smiley face, a different but ever present bear, an infant’s bear, not a bear she’d take with her except in a bag. A bear not to be seen with at seven, but loved.

‘I’ll call her Katya,’ He said. The girl, not the bear.

And later He did. Every few days He would mention her – just in passing. ‘Do you think Katya’s  at school today?’ ‘I was in the city this afternoon, but I didn’t see Katya.’

He wrote about her and her father. A little story. I haven’t read it. He just told me He’d written it; He’d thought of following them in his imagination. He was a little embarrassed telling me this, and He didn’t offer to show me the story, which is unusual because when He mentions He’s written something He usually does. And so I wonder. I wonder how long this memory will stay with him and whether He will follow this couple (and her bear) into the future, create a story for them to live in.

Perhaps it will bring him the peace He does not have. The peace I try to give him when He is with me at home and we sit in my little house, at my table eating toast with Marmite after I’ve been out late whilst He’s sat on my settee and read – in peace at being in my home. I know He feels cast adrift from his family and He can’t be part of mine, yet a while. Perhaps it’s like being in another country. Perhaps He thinks, at least that busker had his child with him, his shining star, his ever-smiley girl.

Yet He is thinking of his smiley girl, smiley still at fifteen, still loving her dad despite what He’s done, despite the fact that she sees him so seldom. Despite the fact that He is only occasionally with her, and she knowing I, his lover, his young woman, his companion and friend, has captured his heart and thoughts.

I think of Katya too. I think of my older girl, so loved and circled about with love and admiration by her respective families and our friends. She is so special and so beautiful, as I was special at eleven, as I think I was beautiful at eleven, just on the brink of that transformation that will take her towards becoming a teenager – and the rest.  

We were lying in bed the Saturday morning before seeing Katya and I was telling him about my childhood. He’d asked me about zebra finches. Walking in his nearby park He had admired their bright red beaks in the park’s newly-restored aviary. I told him about a parrot in a park close to my childhood home, a parrot I passed as I went to school. I described for him my walk to school, meeting up with my friends, passing the parrot. I know how happy it made him to hear me talk about such things. He said so later, embracing me in the kitchen. ’I so love to hear you talk about your childhood.’ I could feel he was moved to say this. It was important. I realised then just how deeply he loved me. That it was important. That he imagined me as a child. That He wanted to know that part of me. He’s rarely asked about the stuff in between. Of my former lovers I’ve said a little. He has said a little about his past liaisons and affaires, but knows I am uncomfortable when he does. So we leave this. But childhood, That’s so different, because it is that precious, precious time of shelter and care: when we begin to discover who we are and who and what we love.

Where is Katya now? In a messy room she shares with her parents in a house shared with economic migrants, where she has a few belongings in three plastic bags. In one, her best clothes she wears to stand on the city street on a Saturday night with her daddy. In another a jumble of not so clean clothes she rotates each day. She has her sleeping bag, her bear, her warm coat and gloves. There’s a few magazines she’s found about the house. English is puzzling. She learnt a little at school back home, and from the TV of course, those American soaps. If she was here in my house I would stand her in the shower, wash her thick hair, put her clothes in the machine, sit her on my bed in my daughter’s clothes with some picture books, introduce her to my cats, we would bake some buns. I would give her a small gift of my love to take away with her and she would look on me with her smiley face, her sparkling eyes and let me hold her bear.

And later when I saw him I would tell him that Katya had been with me for a little, and tears would fall, mine and his, knowing that only in our dreams could we make this so.

I'm totally baffled how anyone
Can be so heartless and inhumane
To make dehumanizing migrants
The focus of his election campaign.

But Donald Trump is doing that now.
With a complete lack of restraint
He spews his venom. He doesn't care
How many minds he's able to taint.

Insinuating that migrants come
From mental institutions and jails
And prisons and even "insane asylums,"
He's an obnoxious teller of tales.

Tying them to a cannibalistic
Killer named Hannibal Lecter? For shame!
And Trump's supporters who think it's funny
To vilify migrants share the blame.

According to Trump, the languages
That many migrants bring to this nation
Sound as though they come from Mars.
More attempts at stigmatization.

Trump also claims that migrants
Poison the blood of our country. Scary:
****** felt the very same way!
People everywhere ought to be wary.

-by Bob B (3-5-24)

Intimidated by political thugs
Prone to insert in one's mouth
The nose of a loaded gun
Or suspend a plastic bottle full of water
On males' reproductive *****,
Devoid of freedom of expression
Also denied  to his right and
Deplorable condition drawing attention
Shunning his God chosen land,
What is more a bright and warm country
Under the sun ,a journalist dreaming began
Fighting all odds between
The deep blue sea and the angry Satan
To migrate to a better place,
Where for democracy
Avowedly there is a better space,
Inhabited by civilized people,
Averse to discrimination based on race!

Burning his boat,
Crossing desserts,
Crammed with other refugees,
Packed with him in a boat
Some trying  to reverse
Their economic lot,
Surfing uncharted waters
Seeking a paradise on earth
He headed to the country he sought
Though some their lives
At the hand of brutal traffickers lost
Beaten and thrown out of the boat,
Also at a port
Suspected of a terrorist bent
Many migrants to prisons were sent.

After a humiliating acid test
Why for a dreamland his country he left
As migrants' bane
They placed him at the foot
Of an ice-clad mountain.
“I will never see
My country again,
You are trying my patience in vain!"
He vowed
Despite the razor-sharp cold untold.

Then they took him up higher
An epitome to a cold fire!
Once more
He put his foot down
Putting on more clothes and
Changing attire.

They placed him
At the mountain's helm
As hell dark
Where the angel of death
Is seen stark.

Then in his head
Something began to bark
“*You rather choose
the better evil
If both your assailants and hosts
Are no two different devil! *"

Seeing first hand
Those with cold shoulder
Assylem seekers adore to attack
Though there are
Few not off humanity's track
At last he decided to return back
And under his country's sun bask
Mum for his rights to ask
Killing his journalistic knack!

Who are these farmers,
And who, these fertile fields,
Verdant under native grass,
That stand un-plowed,
That shake beneath the plow,
That lie now fallow,
That bear the planted seed,
That wear the heavy grain,
That await the Harvest pain?

And who, these Harvesters,
And who, these close-shorn fields,
Desolate in short-cut stubble,
That stand, stiff in silence,
That wear the heavy tracks,
That have endured the harvest,
That yielded up their dead,
That bristle through the falling snow,
That whistle wind-song low?

And who, these merry Farmers,
And who these stubbled fields,
Glistening beneath the melting snow,
That warm beneath the glowing sun,
That host the migrants of the sky,
That tremble the biting plow,
That accept the falling seed,
That wait beneath the welcome rains,
That cycle through the seasons once again?

Are migrants proud Australians?
Our nation based on immigration,
One polyglot meld of humanity,
To Australia show fidelity,
Our nation of peaceful tolerance,
People from Earth's shifting sands,
Living here in our Great Southern Land,
Deployment should not be our dance,
Nothing wrong with loyalty,
Patriotism our children's legacy,
---Great Southern Land,
All welcome to be Australians!

To cross bridges, let's have faith,
In the ultimate survival of the human race,
Why demonise migrants this way?
We're humans, just the same,
Even terrorists who use their creed
As a mask for greedy power, indeed,
If we spread brotherhood far and wide,
We could cross bridges that divide......

start at four
unlock the doors
wash the floors
wash the tables
cleaning up whats left over
from yesterdays fun and games
then start again
12 hours more
of back and forth
and back and forth
and back and forth
and back and forth
and scorn
and whispered words of harm
from smarmy englands home grown army
braver now
since the bigots charter
britains best
at the bar rat arsed again
better than the rest
at spending their hard earned girocheque

They pick melons
in green vined-fields
as far as the eye can see
because no one else will do it.
And some eating melon,
think life is easy.
I pass no judgment,
only excrement,
spitting seeds.

salt stings wounds
salt stings eyes, entering, leaving...
healing, healing. The sea will take you away.
I tire of hearing abot these migrants
well they tire of the rick-shaw of an untested boat
of their homes becoming rubble & dust clouds,
of seeing blood in the dirt.
As long as there is war,
as long as there is famine
as long as there exists somewhere
called 'refuge'
then there will be refugees.
Oh child, rocked to sleep by the tide...
you should never have to answer for adult violence,
innocent & sleepy, sinless.
You have been written in blood in the old books
you have been decided for.
Your dice have been rolled by strange hands;
born amid angry eyes,
and so shall die,
washed ashore upon sand,
carried quietly away
to your final crib
to your refuge.

Toweling off in the steam room after having my *** ripped apart
by the wet thistles these Greeks seemed to think constitute a good time;
I was to meet Agent X, but I didn't know what he'd look like;
I assumed it was a 'he' - - I was wrong;
the N-[company] had managed to disguise
the voluptuous big-breasted blonde
as a nebbishy little old Jewish man;
but how was I to know...
I thought he was measuring my inseam
when he came up for air & swallowed:
thinking this was my best shot,
I said: "****** only had one ball."
"Geobbels had no ***** at all,"
Agent X correctly rep-lied:
her voice barely disguised; her pursed lips
spoke a smooth smoky baritone;
Agent-M was stark naked but u'd never
guess in a million years that beneath the
*** belly & yalmakah was a 5'11, 42-33-37
Russian woman; her Old World accent flawless,
"We better make this look good,
I better stick my finger in ur ***..."
"Why don't I stick finger in ur ***?" she shot back.
"Okay, go ahead."
"We'll both do it. That'll look really gay."
There we stood not saying a word, completely forgetting what we were there for; "oh, yes..." she said suddenly.
"What was that?"
"We should report in. The chief will want to know what's going on here."
"What will we say? That we stood around w/ our fingers up each other's *****?"
"Yeh, that sounds nuts - - u'd better **** me in the *** to make it look good,"
said she, leading me back into the steam.
Keeping her disguise on the whole time I had to paw at her hunched, hairy back & deal with the pasty potbelly & skinless pinky-sized *****.
"Oy! Oy!" she cried.
"Take that, u **** *****! U like that ****?"
"Oh! **** me! **** me hard! Heil ******! Oh!"
"Yeh, *****, get down there & choke on it," I said really loud, so they could hear me all through the place & pretty soon **** were beating down the door than each other outside the door.
I had to keep pretending to be ******* the little old Jewish man by carefully avoiding her **** & inserting eleven inches into the drooping, spotty hemorrhoidal backside; gripping the skull by the cap & jamming my pork down the Kosher throat; the truth was Agent X was one the world's greatest mistresses of disguise, & had impersonated Queens & Presidents, even small dogs & once an entire family of migrants to infiltrate a terrorist ***-ring;
"Watch my Thrombosis!" she whined in character.
"There's blood everywhere!"
"Oh, ****, my period started."
"There's blood everywhere!"
Quickly wrapping Agent-M in a sauna towel which rapidly accumulated blood from between her legs but looking like it was pouring out of her ***, l
threw her over my shoulder and ran past the rabid pack of un-dead *******, who dare not follow me into the daylight, lest they burst into the hellish flames of gossip & publicity.

|.|
The **** of the Sabine Women was an incident in Roman "mythology" in which the men of Rome committed the mass **** and abduction of young women from surrounding cities, most notably from Sabine where it is thought the women were nearly all natural redheads; by mythic talisman standards, possessing a natural magical ability. Hence, the Sabine women were born witches whom the Romans hoped to subjugate through force, but feisty as a race the Sabines ran off leaving the | Romans with their own native albeit comparatively homely Roman women.
It is thought the Sabine either joined with and subsequently mated with the few surviving Satyrs and became the basis for the later legend of the | Amazons. 343v (3, xxb) 12163168 3300
16 ABC 3 3 (200),
                         Dawn (lifestyle and music) especially (lifestyle and music),
musicians: (i.e. Yjtri powerful Greek, Italy (SBA)
10, 2012 (60) 12, 100; 100 34 / (3 ABC) 12163168 ICC
and Spain since 3300 - 3 16 (c) and the last (3) (3)              (2, 1500 is blue
and the world neberi.yešēyitochi female) - 1683 1004 342 VFS (3) ج
xxb you sick,           and early deep water soup and the United States,
Frank, and other places unknown unknown unknown
right Uranium Women Kids Peace Center and drink, ||
drink, drink, do you say Teristically
Let's go somelace to Drink -  & party with 20 Greek
women
and the handsome L. emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini
and many
                                       women were drinking and drinking and drinking
absinthe & Bejlavie "phenomenal"
"growth" in the jaws,
and there is an outside mamy| ...      waiting to get taken up
2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 against the rejection
of Italy (Saba)
10, 2018  (62) 12, 100, 100                [Hard drinking
Albanian witches  fck anything, I've seen them ****
true stumps;  I mean, tree, tree ... tre
||343v (3, XXB) 12.163.168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (200),
Don is (especially into his
lifestyle and music              (lifestyle and music),
composer (i.e. astronomer with sovereignty over
Greece & Italy (SBA) 10, 2012 (60) 12 , 100;
100 34 / (3 ABC)
12.163.168 ICC and Spain 3300-3 16 (C)
                                          and last (3) (3)
(2, 1500 blue and world neberi.yešēyitochi female)
- 1683 1004 342 VFS
(3) ج XXb you sick and early and deep water soup
and the United States,
Frank and other places unknown unknown    
            [unknown Ukrainian woman] Children's Peace Center and drink,  
drink and drink,                     you say 20 Greek women and all beautiful - -
L. emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini and many other women
were drinking                        with "extraordinary" growths in their jaws
and drinking  ||
and drinking,                   And an external older 'mami' 2018
(62) 12, 100, 100
against the rejection of Italy (Sabah)
10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100.343v (3 xxb)         12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3
(200) Don (lifestyle,
particularly music), composite (i.e. forced by the Greek Praedictionibus Astronomicus, Italy
(SBA) 10, 2012 (60) 12, 100, 100 34 / (3 ABC)                   16| 3300-3
12,163,168 ICC and Spain (100) and finally (3) (3)
                              (2, 1500 blue and Neberi.yešēyitochi World Male) - 1683 1004 342 VFS (3)
"(yeš ēyi touch it)" and dybhavssuppe               and the United States,
France unknown Uranium                           and other places unknown
unknown woman at the center of the                   peace and drinking,
drinking and drinking,                        and they say 20 Greek women
and two for L. emet'a iguwiwiši - - there is plenty abbiini,
much, much to drink "extraordinary" growth edged
beverages and mixed drinks;                                      ******* Asian
Yuka Ozaki                 umiliated & throat destroyed; First Time
*******               and a remote old  mami 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100
who is  [Throat ****] 343v (HTV) 3 12163168 16, 3300 3 3 (100) Money
                                     ((ABC's, music, astronomy))
Grek mildettüü türdö baaloo, SBA 2012-10 (60)
ICC 12163168 Zana Spain 3 1683 1004 342
amerikalyk Dibbosuppa: 2 kök 1500 düjnö Neberi.eiesiitochi Erkek),
                                   "The beetle" is the abbot \ of the ******'s "house"                                          Italy (FTA)
Mindy degraded] sued for libel against the rejection
of Italy (Sabah) 10, 2018
(62) 12, 1343v (3ХХВ) 12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (200)
Don's (way of life, especially music), composite (i.e. compelling
the Greek Praedictionibus Astronomicus, Italy (SBA) 100 34 / (3 ABC) 16 3300-3 12163168 ICC and Spain (100) and ending (3) (3)
(2, 1500 blue and Neberi.yešēyitochi                           Face ****** & *****
slammed by the (World Man) - 1683 1004 342 VFS (3)
and dybhavssuppe)          and the United states,                  France unknown,
Uranus and elsewhere Unknown;
Petite Black ** ****** By Two Merciless *******
for sad ****
Unknown woman in the center of a **** circle,                            drinking it,
                                  drinking and drinking alcohol,
and they say 20 Greek women and two for L. e's
                                      met'a iguwiwiši abbiini;
for much more drinking the "extraordinary";
on the edge growth beverage and other beverages,
and a distant mommy's 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 Face ******
& DP'd first timer breaks down from defamation
and the rejection of Italy's (Sabah) |||
10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 00, 100|||
343v (3 HTV) 12,163,168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (200)
Don (way of life, especially music), composite
343v (HTV) 3 12163168 Chubby Latina Gets Pounded By ****
16, 3300 3 3 Banks (ABC's, Music, Astronomy)
Greek mild ettüü türd-ö balloon,
SBA 2012-10 (60) ICC 12163168
Zana is from Spain 3 1683 1004 342 United States of America
Neberi .eiesiitochi Erkek ),                "'Beetle' is the beginning of the Virgil"
Italy (ALS)
(which were forced by the Greeks according to the              Praedictionibus
                                                                ­                                  Astronomicus,
and Italy (SBA) 2012 10 (60) 12, 100, 100 34 /                        1 ( 3 ABC) 1
6 3300-3 12163168 ICC and Spain (100)
and ended (3) (3)
(2, 1500, at the bottom of the blue world
Neberi.yešēyitochi Male)
- 1683 1004 342 VFS (3)    and the United States
and dybhavssuppe;  unknown unknown unknown
uranium sent to France
and other places where a woman
is in the midst of the party peacefully
drinking and drinking, her sweet throat brutalized
and they say the two women were transferred                                   to
20 Greek For a Rough   Interracial *******
emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini:
much to drink "extraordinarily"                                    'edgy' drink beverages
growth and a remote Virgil's
2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 libelous slander against
the rejection of Italy (Sabah) 10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100343v
(3 HTV) 12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (100) Don (way of life,
especially music), the union (forced by the Greek
Praedictionibus Astronomicus, Italy (SBA) 2012 10
(60) 3 ABC) 16, 3300 with 3 12163168 ICC and Spain (100)
and at the end
(2) (3) (2, 1500, blue world Neberi.yešēyitochi Male)
- 1683 1004 342 VFS (3) and the United States young
desperate and hungry: |                                          Loud **** gets epic *******
& forced to do oral unknown unknown places
where uranium
in France,       another unknown woman gets in the middle
of the peace, Amy Gets Her Latina Throat ****** &
drinks **** and drinks alcohol,  while another Blonde ***** gets skull ******
hard,
saying Bleach Blonde Latina Gets Throat ******
that the two women transferred over    \   to the Greeks
20 emet'a Latina Amy Gets Her Sweet *** ******;
iguwiwiši abbiini too to drink...
The "extraordinary"      Lexi Marie Gets Her *****
Pounded By A Rough Stud on the
Edge;            budding development
and drinking the drinks 343v (HTV) 3 12163168 16,
3300 3 3 Banks (ABC, music, astronomy) Greek
mildettüü türdö baaloo, SBA 2012-10 (60) ICC 12163168
Zana Spain 3 1683 1004 342 United States of America
Neberi .eiesiitochi Erkek), "Beetle" -
"this is the beginning of Virgil"
Italy (ALS)                       at a distance from Virgileus,
Loud Emo ****-Poetess Get **** deep in her Throat;
& ****;  2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 defamation, |
slander rejection in Italy (Sabah) 10, 2018 (62)
12, 100, 100343v (3 HTV) 12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3              (100)
Don (way of life, special music), union (forced First Time **** Ends
In Tears,  by the Greek Praedictionibus Astronomicus, Loud Latina
Gets Big ***** In Her *** In Italy (SBA) 2012 10
(60) 3 12163168 ICC and Spain at the End,
Big ***** Latino Mom Takes Huge ****
In Her Throat & ***** (2) (3) (2, 1500,                                       blue world
Neberi.yešēyitochi Male) - 1683 1004 342 VFS (3)
and the young and dybhavs supper of the United States:
uranium in France where another unknown woman
in the midst of the peace,                      |Latina Is Chained Up And ******|
drink and drink and say that the two women
were transferred over to the Greeks 20
emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini also to drink;                                    This is Anne - -
                                  "excellent" edgy development |||
and drink drinks at a distance from queer                         Virgileus  2018 (62)
12, 100, 100 defamation, slander rejection in Italy (Sabah)
10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100343v (3 HTV)           12163168 3300 16 - ABC 3 3
(100) Don (way of life, Extreme ******* & DP for the black teen ||
special (music) union (forced to read Praedictionibus Astronomicus:
[Greece, Italy (SBA) 2012 10 ***** Gets ****** In Their ***]
(60) 12163168 ICC and Spain 3 and at the end (2) (3)
(2, 1500, blue world Neberi.yešēyitochi Male) - 1683 1004 342 VFS (3),
and young and United States dyed behavioral supper:
uranium in France where another unidentified woman
is pulled inside, Big boobed ***** girl face ******
deep and hard drinking and drink ****,    343v (3 HTV) 12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (100) Money (lifestyle, especially music) Compounds (forcing Greece to Praedictionibus Astronomicus, for SBA 2012 10 (60) 12163168 ICC and Spain 3 1683 1004 342 VFS (3)                   Young and American dybhavsupppe: Uranium drink and drink and tranquilizers;
Another unknown woman in France, and (2) (3) (2, 1500,         blue world Neberi.eyesyitochi male) Come emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini
and drink the edge of "excellence"
                                            development,   and drink Virgil drinks
Defamation Statements Italian (Sabah) 343v (3 HTV) 12163168 3300 16 ABC 3 3 (100) Money (Lifestyle, especially Music) Compulsory Compulsory Classes Greek Astronomy, SBA 2012 10 (60) 12163168 ICC and Spain 3 1683 1004 342 American Dibbosuppa: (2),
2, 1500, blue world Neberi.eyesyitochi male)
"emili" iguwiwiši abbiini "Drink Virgil"
Italy (Sabah)
10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100
Rough Interracial doggy & riding
and passed around;
              say that the women passed
out on the Greeks ||                         |
20 emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini                    and that the drink
is "excellent"
on the edge of development, and drink the drink of Virgil
2018 (62) 12, 100, 100, defamation, slander charge in Italy
(Sabah) 10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 Loves To Get Tag
Teamed  And Face Fucked343v (3 HTV) 12163168 3300
16 ABC 3 3
(100) Don (lifestyle, especially music) compounds
(forced Praedictionibus Astronomicus to Greece, |
Italy (SBA) for 2012 10 (60) 12163168 ICC and Spain 3
(100) end (2) (3) (2, 1500, the blue world Neberi.yeseyitochi Male)
- 1683 1004 342 VFS (3), and the young       and US dybhavssuppe:
uranium to France and another unknown woman inside,
drinking and peace of drinking, and say that this is
what the two women came to Greece for!
20 emet'a iguwiwiši abbiini and drink "excellent"
end of development, **** ****** Gets Her *** Slammed | |
and drinks Virgil's **** while he drinks drinks
[20 African migrants pile-on a naked tourist, from a young male
migrant; screammming, "no!' No one underss\tands;
steamy, overheated traffic, horns blazing exhaust;
human pollution blocking the roads
& cops avoid the smell of ***** & **** on their \n ragged,
filthy bodies; the streets are filled with crawling children
and beaten women covered in raw sewage; |
chasing children like rats | prostitution is down:
it hasn't rained|
2018 (62) 12, 100, 100, defamation charge
                                  of defamation in Italy
(Sabah) 10, 2018 (62) 12, 100, 100 |||***** ** With A Fat ***
Gets Pounded343v (HTV) 3 12163168 16, 3300 3 3
Organizations (ABC, music, astronomical) Greek mildettüü
türdö baaloo, SBA 2012-10 (ICC) 12163168 Spain Spain 3 1683
1004 342 United States of America Never mind. Cicero is a *******),
"Bees" "this is the origin of Virgil"               Italy (ALS)343v (HTV) 3 12163168 16, 3300 3 3 Companies (ABC, music, astronomical)
Greek mildettüü türdö baaloo,                SBA 2012-10 (ICC) 12163168
Spain Spain 3 1683 1004 342                               America of America's
Neber .isero Erkek), "The pi"
"This is the cause for Virgil"
                  ******* Italians (ALS)