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Gareth Dec 2015
There is a ****
With the most gorgeous of toes
Of this fact I am not sure if she knows

Evenly balanced with different hues .
But to me this is not news

For they are the best of toes
Adellebee May 2012
The cocktail dress split hope down the screen
Letting that reoccurring dream compel me
Into memories of you
The clink of my cup
Shattered sobriety with the pain of daybreak
The ice looks like crystal but only something that will disappear and overflow your glass is standing at attention
The bar stool cracked, empty and the faux leather ripped, and torn
Cougars and MILFs strut down the bar top
Scanning tonight’s bachelors
I sit behind, for my dress is long and flannel
Heavy, hot making me sweat and stink
I run faster than a cheetah in my mind
Tearing doors and bridges apart
Speeding towards the sunrise
Attempting for the *** of gold
The cocktail drips from the table on to the floor
A puddle I will eventually slip from
Hair in my face
My ankle sundress reaped with alcohol
I stand up, look around
Towel?
But all I see is you
Walking back slowly retreating to the door
Leaving me to deal and regret the decisions
I so poorly execute
Miss me
hug me
kiss me
touch me

make my center
your surrounding space

Don't tease me
please me
never
leave me

you can't king me
it ain't a game

i wear you better
like fitted sweater

you just my size
don't change a thing

no waters wetter
no April better

forget umbrella
come play in my rain

queen reigns
u knight
with me
just right

A.M.
no letter
penned
Dear Jane

u like it
we love it
can't get enough of it

no messin
no guessin
absolutely
no testin

u wake
"Hey wifey,
our hearts not icey
feels so good
to be unashamed..."

no guilt
no filth
no watchin' milfs
i'm yo star
you got changed mind frame

What a blessin
God is present
form of worship
He don't turn His face

our bed be wild and undefiled
**** and pure
like white lace

no need to fear
our God is here
we dance this dance
so
u n a s h a m e d

no need to fear
our God is here
we dance this dance
so
u n a s h a m e d

. . .


let's do it
again.
© 20 june 2009
Butch Decatoria Jan 2017
The last romantic...

Briefly departs his Shakespeare

Pages serenading sublimity

Juxtaposing the beauty of the stars

To the abyssal depth in lover's eyes

Lost in sonnet sunset

And the pentameter of lonesome sighs...

His heart must surely be a fish

Lovelorn wanting such oceans of wish.

To feel alive from being torn

Into madness A tumultuous storm....

The last romantic far from paths

And roads leading home,

Far from metropole and reality

In solitude a garden gnome...

Deformed from lack of society's

Influential propriety

Of hurry get married, of monogamy,

Grooms bride for every norm...but no.

Oh how aloof and naively blind

Dismissing the tutors' lessons in mundane life

The logic of lovelife like reasoning

These days of mail order brides,

Milfs and Latin ***** seasonings,

Are now for bid to buy (at auction price)

How is this decency or poetic

The Geometry of a fit sound mind?

(High on cloud nine, in line for a hookers time?)

Oh dear King Lear, what's happened here?

Sign of our times slow demise

Yet no one questions such schisms

Or ask why?

The illness of the romantic was once floral

It sickens with sweetness and aww

A dreamers pox deluded flight

Psychedelic was the high

(just stop all that effing rhyme time)



Perhaps it's self inflicted

Conditioned poetic days

To view all the world with love

Fauning eyes awake

Maybe in his idolatry of medieval adultery

There is a sort of peace

Of mind, of truth

Maybe accidentally it is found

Far from the madness of the heartless,

Mindless Crowds

Murdering muse and moody blues

By the numbers we color refuse and defuse

These digital days that pass in fog

Diminished worth

From fears' poison smog,

An unlived unloved life askew

Dead to chances made aloud

Tho' The perfect time is now...


Perhaps the last romantic chooses to go without

Shedding a painful tear

Detours introverted meekly feels

Avoiding any meaningful kiss

With every passion

petite mort...             a tiny death my dears

Some cannot handle such tragedy

Star crossed youth I hear are

                     All fools for love

And Still will / surely must

Die hard

Whether from wounds of doubts

Drowning in Lies of ties that bind...

Yet true love with imperfect hearts

Revere

Our Immortal beloveds

And the last romantic

Near or far away from here

Romancing whispers

Oh the lovely

Untouched years

                    Heavy as a hollow bone

Broken in perpetual wish,

His alone

A soul yet to atone a life of fear

Bewitched by drama's

*Magic Shakespeare.
Johnny Noiπ Dec 2018
A year ago, the *** and loss of sun and milk,
and without keys. This source is Karen's sss,
Karnebuth RN, RN, CFT CFT and Danish
tun mihāwi shshi leri Song ****. On the
seventh day, 1 pin, South Africa, South America
and Africa are part of the Ford PARISH; AI
Beau operator. They cannot. If you're talking
to Tom Berenger an idol, when talking about
Bongo, Bongo Bonus and 1000 and 500 of the
right travel, see real estate. 1 - (neeche) - 100
Red Anemia 3000 2 3000 3 μm are currently
injection and ICEM. Pressure pressure pressure
- relative - 2 (G tech unwalk like fit entakorite
no) 2 cocoa. 1 Christchurch Colibus sabasti
Umma Sapiens !!!! 505 black Ephraim's Aim
at Eadeeelaee 1 1) In 1000 years, ten years
of age, a room of pain, gaoni, ostrelia, Devyl
boliemeraldidi) 1 silver is the esajeeel 2000x
2000 astitv lumenish 500 and 501 lions - Orange,
tricks? These are the streets of enemies 105:
1000 and 1000 poor, 2, 2 increase in income?
Businesses in Brayan Ghat Ghar Pahala Business
Services, such as gold and gold cities? Jebebe
Japan alright - little kidnapping ee Geeana New
Left Female chaaval unit 500 - Yuk gaile ksee
(single) - Mika's work of rakharakhaav Nature's
stick phaibrikiyoo 1000 EEIP and yootoob
Kaam Karata Israel 00 yok wool. . Each common
cinnamon - 5 Days Astrology Inc. 1: 1 is not a
complete reading or collection of memories from
room to room berikezeli geometrize monetize
tiger top iliyeši broome. On Saturday, 2nd
of the year, Nehade 1 East-west service (2 Jeremiah
nee) (Blacks) 5 Vx VV VVV shalav shaavapruti
John's good repetitive characteristic Aamir
Daraavana with (a) and (b), 500 (2500) Children's
Kids Vehari Dehaes Dehaes and Kids BA
Earnings 2000-215 Years and 3 - Emma's Moon
Sava 50 or 500 Visitor Deals - Roman Dance
Company Developer 500 Permanent Pechimisi
With A Trademark Degree Between B and E
Sewer Designers Only 'Ready to get two asthma
guns and TRS marks on the United States ball-kick.
ASIs, consumers of lesser Germany, Iran, Iran,
Iran, London, London, August 2000, Washington,
2000, 2000, Cancer, iron and other brucellosis.
Tom Tom SGL Amiragar tomato or dBm 1000
DEVIL will get - Sexton two, 1000, 500, blue
blues, EPIPAL British music, Gabon Bongo for
new programs. 1 - (continued) - 2 (and the final
leaders have completed) 2. Crete 1 - Dutch's red,
red cow of the Amazon Mi lost 100 ... Irazoff
2 M3, M3 Page 3000 MP of the UNITED NATIONS
does not have milfs, Christopher Columbus was
in solution ! !!! Beach of the coastline Acid1
Lebechi Chimmechi 505 (2), (2) Thirty, GABO
Thiam LACH, Australia, two SGL 2000s to music,
source of sources, Diablo Esmeralda volunteered
to listen to 52 radio stations in Japan, Turkey,
500 2000, good results) I have the current rice,
and 501, Gonzales 1 Tim, carrots and pimps.
A year ago, the *** and the loss of the sun and milk,
and without keys. This source, Karnes Karnebuth RN,
RN, CFT CFT and Danish Tunmihāwi Shshileri
Song ****. On the seventh day, 1 pin, Africa,
South Africa, South America and Africa are part
of the Ford Opera and Ford Bao they cannot. If you
talk to Tom Beiridor, when talking about bongo,
bongo bonus and 1000 and 500 of the right trip, see
real estate.- (neeche) - 100 Aemia Red 3000 2 3000
3 μm At present ICEM injection. - 2 (G tech un-
walkefitenta koriteno) 2 Cocoa 1. Christchurch
columbus Sabastian Umma Smaman 505 blaikaphrem
in Aimdeadeeelaee 1: 1 (in 1000 years, ten years
of age, room of pain, ingenious, osterelia, Deyiboli
emireridi) 1 money is esajeeel 2000 2000 astitv
lumenish 500 and 501 lions - Orange, Tricks? These
are the streets of the enemies 105: 1000 and 1000,
poor, 2, 2 increase in income? Business in Brian
Ghat Ghar Pahala Business services such as gold
and gold cities? Jepebe Japan Ok - Little Kidnapping
New Left Gaia Master Chanel 500 - Yuk Galilee kiss
ee (Single) - Mika's work of rakhharakhaav natures
stick paibrikiyoo 1000 EEIP and yootyoob Kaam
Karata Israel 00 wool yuk. All Common Cinnamon -
5 days Astrology Inc. 1: 1 is not a complete reading
or collection of memories from broome berikezeli
gemoner tigeritopiliyeši Roma. On Saturday, 2
of the year, Nehade 1 East West Service (2 Jermaine)
(Black 5) VxVV VVV shavav shaavapruti Yohanan
Characteristics of Good Repetitions Amir
Daraavana with) and (b), 500 (2500) Children
Children Vehari Dehaes Dehaes and Profit Children
2000- 215 years and 3 - Emma Sawa Moon 50
or 500 visitors promotions - Roman Dance Company
develops Pechimisi 500 set with a trademark
degree between B and E Sewer designers only
"ready to accept two asthma guns and TRS marks
on the ball ball kicks. Asi, Germany, London,
London, August 2000, Washington, 2000, 2000,
cancer, iron and other brucellosis Tom Tom SGL
Amiragar Tomatoes or 1000 dBm DEVIL will
receive - Sexton Two, 1000, 500 blues Blue,
British Epic Music, c 2) and the final leaders
completed) 2. Crete 1 - red red red cow of the
Amazons, Milost 100 ... Irazoff 2 M3: M3 Page
3000 Member of Parliament of the United Nations
There is no ****, Christopher Columbus wasn't
on the West Coast, GABO Thiam LACH, Australia,
two SGL 2000s sources of music source,
Diablo Esmeralda volunteered to listen to 52
radio stations in Japan, Turkey, 500x2000,
results Good) I have the current rice, and 501,
Gonzales and Tim: 1, carrots and pimps.
******* is like a drug to you're average male...
                Women just don't get it... but to no avail..
                It stares back at you everywhere you look
                In shops, online. And in glossy books it's women that" squirt???"
            And men with big *****....
            Quick pass the sick bucket....
           I'm gonna be sick!
         Milfs and babes...
              And men on men
        Come on girls now lets not pretend....?
         We've all sneaked a look
         When no ones around..
        Not much storyline
          Just a lot of sound!
         ******* and *******
           Squelching and grunts
      Women shouting... oh ****
         I think I'm gonna c..m!
          *** in the garden
            *** by the pool
       *** in the kitchen...
       Perched on a stool
     Secretaries,nurses
      School girls, nuns
        Actresses, gym babes
       Even prisoners on the run?!
         It just gets sillier
As the camera runs...
     The women staring blankly
Shouting " ooh" and ""ahh"
Filming every orifice
    Now that's gone too far!
      The world is a mans oyster
      He can pick and choose
        But if you're a woman...
         You know you're going to lose.....
MetaVerse Aug 2024
My technoscribbles haven't all cachet;
A mother hen on Friday farts an egg.
Even a swill of parlance has a say
When maple roadmaps varicose a leg.
A skinnydipping nakedest remote
Viewer that loons a dreaming in a pond
Fractals a nascent green and gleimous note
Hanging athwart with someone's else's blonde.
Take heart.  The fish have lungs and breathe the air
Of a new day when everyfish can ***
With or without a whiff of underwear,
Though salty tears are sweetest under the sea.
Milfs are a pack of pickleballing hots
Playing to win a plate of tater tots.


Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
502 bad gateway bypass:

Ahab bin Haroon:
the lost Arab slave-merchant
who also traded in spices
and silk on the sly...

i'm sure there is more terrible music out there... sometimes
the you-tube algorithm is generous, weirdly a.i.:
it spits out: at random some generosity...
this time round? some band from Sweden,
i'm hugely into Swedish music,
for me the Swedes are currently: what the British were
back in the 60s and 70s and 80s of the previous
century... well excluding Abba:
personally? Abba is more innovative for me demanding
the proper understanding of POP than the Beatles
will ever be... for me it's all about Abba... odd...
only yesterday i remembered this song
by Cradle of Filth: her ghost in the fog...
oh the stuff i sieve through... the last time i was this excited
about discovering a band / artist it was...
****... there's a list:
Distance (when dub-step was a genuine genre)
   :wumpscut...
Die Krupps...
    Tool... but that's donkey's years ago... i have
the donkey's ears concerning that adventure...
King Crimson...
  Ghost... another favorite feature from Sweden...
Wooden Shjips... Demdike Stare...
this is closest to Die Krupps... this new band
the algorithm spit out... Priest...
two guys wearing those black plague masks
later detailed in the Venice carnival...
those Charles de Lorme black raven masks
and one guy singing in... a gimp masks with studs...
nice... i'm getting ***** just listening to
all this dark-wave electronica...
it's the sort of music you listen to to get in the mood
to visit a brothel and sleep with a *******...
i mean, this one song is outstanding...
      PHANTOM PAIN (again, priest)...
     fair enough... maybe this band: the KLINIK from
Belgium that were around in the 80s... are up there..
of course i'm a musical snob sometimes...
you have to be a snob sometimes: esp. when it comes
to music...
am i going to be a Bukowski and say that all modern
music is **** because i'm some classical music buff?
no really... but i like listening to music that allows
me to think about the contortions of the body during
***... and: luckily for me... i've found another artist
that just opened the floodgates to do just that...
if anyone Prokofiev... well: basically all the Russian composers...
i don't mind the Germanic composers...
but i prefer German medieval music: Teutonic chants...
those guys would sing and play...
before Bach's reorganisation into polyphony...

hmm... brothels... the pockets of Jerusalem any man
might wish for... no, i became truly angry watching
the Game of Thrones... you what? some dwarf is going to
have all that sensual fun... in the mind of that grub
of a writer? and i'm going to fall prey to celibacy?
a dwarf is going to have all that fun?
o.k. Darwinism is a lie:
the strongest don't reproduce...
Christianity and Darwinism are not compatible...
who, really, reproduces? the weak and the idiots...
that's what i love about reality:
it's objective... you just have to slip in your subjectivity
into it once in a while: **** a **** of
someone suffering from prostate cancer
into the snow and then sing like Frank Zappa sang:
don't you be eating the yellow snow...
i knew one had to be false: either Darwinism or
Christianity... when i was confronted with
the maxim: turn the other cheek i recoiled with
much anger... what?! i was a child back then...
i think i'm still a child right now...
but i just couldn't stomach that "truth"...
you what?! i can't hit back? i'm supposed to be a
punching-bag?
that's a bit ****, isn't it?

oh but at the brothel... last time i walked up those
frightful stairs and paid the £10 due for entry
asking how many girls were available...
the Madame... receptionist said that two were
available...
i saw one... sitting down... then the Madame sat down:
and she repeated herself: two are available...
i'm in luck... and my god... she does look the part
of a leather chair... her body looks like it could be
stretched to all unimagined possibilities...
that mole on her face adds to her allure...
hmm... next time... when's my next time?
ah... ****... on the 30th... a shift up at Craven Cottage...

that's what i realised when i was thirsty today...
i started jerking off to pictures of Turkish girls...
Romanian girls...
Hispanic milfs... i'm so ******* turned off by
loud-mouth western *****... probably blonde...
i'm turned off like...
you might throw a stone into a lake:
i'm sinking to new depths...
i need the olive skin the raven hair...
the supposed highest prize of a blonde white girl?
n'ah... n'ah ah... that's not happening...
like to like... now i truly am turning the other
cheek... of my ***!
i'm simply not interested...
give me a Mongolian girl... a Siberian Russian
lass! something juicy... something plump...
i'll take that... i'd not fidgety... i'm not bothered...
just something to squeeze...
a plump plum of a woman of Romanian stock
is worth my eyes i'd have to waste
on otherwise stuck-up English nuns!

oh, but this Madame really broke the camel's back...
i thought camels had humps:
rather than humps... i'm going to **** her next...

i fell in love with literature a few times in my life...
i can't remember the first time, proper...
but the first time: not proper was on the 86 bus riding
to school reading Stendhal's the Scarlet and Black...
i watched the t.v. mini-series first:
then read the book... i fell in love with the book...
French... though... i could never learn it:
too many surds... written one way:
but spoken another... i love how naturalization works...
you pick up local prejudices...
i've picked up the local prejudices of a
hatred for anything French that can't be eaten...
but i also picked up a German-philia...
i love the German tongue... it's the elder of
the dynamic that exists between the shared
constitution that's allocated to the English-German
schematic!
but the French?! as a tongue?!
write one thing: speak another... i *******, hate it!
no wonder i didn't learn it in school:
i should have been taught the elder Germanic tongue
of the cousin of English!

the other time i fell in love with literature
i was in St. Petersburg dating a Russian: well... a a Siberian
girl... she introduced me to Bulgakov...
i knew some Russian literacy prior...
but this novel avoided me...
now? i'm living in a currency of a hallucination...
Behemoth? that black cat in the novel?
he's not black... he's ginger...
ginger looks better when staged against the green of grass...
Behemoth is Quarus...
and he's not fond of either ***** or chess...
i'm fond of whiskey and su doku...
he's...he's fond of sleeping and pretending to count...
and... mind you: if he were given a name
from the book of Milton: it wouldn't be Behemoth...
it would be Belial...
plus Behemoth was black... Quorus is ginger...
and ginger looks so much better against
the backdrop of the green grass...

i ******* abhor these people that are dog-lovers...
these... leash-handlers...
what's your bother with cats?!
cats can be ignored... yet they still manage to come back
and implore you to give them attention...
dogs...leashes... muzzles if they are of a certain breed...
stories of children being mauled by dogs...
**** me: men and their ****-takes of companions in
the form of dogs! why do i prefer cats?!
guess i'm a believer in the gods of ancient Egypt...
Set... Anubis...
darkness draws me to throw the arguments required...
the fox and the wolf...
i can't stand smart: implosive, modern...
cosmopolitan sensuality!
it's riddles with a fake woman!
all i see is a fake woman on a fakeness of possessing
a womb... sitting with a crown of timber
on a throne of sand!

well... i could have asked for a better afternoon...
but you rarely can... ask...
if you're drinking and there's this couple of woodland
pigeons perched in your Eucalyptus tree at the end of
your garden...

Woodland Pigeon Nest Building....
it's a note i took...
rarely.. no.. clearly impossible to witness
crows mating... or the cackling magpies
for that same reason... but pigeon?
i know that the woodland folk are larger... cleaner...
but they still heave the same ontology
as their cosmopolitan cousins...
how many male pigeons i saw rejected
by theiir female counterparts?
too many: i saw too many pretend to fly
into a tornado when a female rejected them:
they lost about 100 points of an IQ scoring
when female rejected them:
they hafe that glass-look in their eyes
akin to: what the **** just happened?
did i fly into a tornado: or was i actually supposed
to fly into one?!

i love women... like i love dogs...
hmm... leashes... muzzles...
i love cats more though... esp. thorough-breeds...
Maine *****... what leash, what muzzle?!
they're like prostitutes...
they like good company...
they're kept by keeping good company;
one's own...
i was making the bed chastising Christianity
i would have spit my phlegm onto the sacrificial altar
if i knew better...
no, you, silly little ****!
you're not going to own the stature of Belial
in the Legion to Come!
you *******-dim-whit! you sacred cow
of Golgotha! i will make 100 beds before i see you
make statements of the sort you made:
even the most evil men in history have made wise-sayings!

you have no ******* excuses!
you... sacrifice for the entry of hell into this currency of
realms a bit of it... what sort of harrowing was
it that you didn't decide upon staying down
there and reigning, ensuring everything would
stay in order? never mind...

a beast is stirring in me, i can't tame him sometimes,
i was supposed to wait until the 30th of this month
to return to the brothel after a shift at Fulham
unfortunately i have already began preparations
for the past three days... stroking the "whittle Richard"
while taking a ****, sometimes several times
a day... school uniforms... legs in nylon...
bare legs with knee high socks...
my head starts whirling with a sort of gravity
that you feel when standing still and not falling...
i need a woman's scent on me...

that's stroking the "whittle Richard" without
climaxing... that's what you do: to get the blood flowing,
i knew men as young as 16 who were pressured
into using *******-supplements...
     me? i really did have to think about Margaret Thatcher
and try to get a *******...
well... no... it wasn't Margaret Thatcher...
the middle-aged woman across the street...
not a beached-whale... but not exactly ****-curvy
that plump-peach come plump-peach type...
still... i just saw her today and was like: yep...
i'd do her...
   i remember going crazy once...
like the prostitutes tell me: you're good mad...
not the bad mad type: the good mad type...
again: prostitutes, psychiatrists, priests...
                                                    i tried all three and
it seems the girls know so much more...
but this woman across the street had a thing once
of walking bare naked in her bedroom without any
curtains... this one particular evening i was lying
on the sofa watching Silence of the Lambs...
she walks in... bulging ****... like a milking concubine...
such unfolding of fat that i got a ****** within
seconds...
    she walks out... but that's not the point...
minutes later her elder daughter walks in... also...
bare naked... it's enough to get a stiff one and then
watch it drop... to then get a second one...

but that wasn't the end of the whole "silence of the lambs"...
no more than five minutes passed...
her young daughter walks in: also bare naked...
another hard-on... oh for ****'s sake...
i felt like being Marquis de Sade in that film Quills...
where he laments with a funny sort of anger...

then ****** me! ******* you, Abbe!
have you no true sense of my condition?
of its gravity?
my writing is involuntary,
like the beating of my heart.
                                       my constant *******!


like today... i managed to catch a succubus
upon waking... woke before 8am slipped downstairs
for a cup of water... walked back up for a snooze
but instead of lying in bed laid on the floor...
in between dreams and nothingness
some fat girl was kissing me... *******...
oh for ****'s sake... in the morning... all this peeling
and unpeeling of the phallus...
i feel sorry for those circumcised *****... i really do...
i mean: for those circumcised *****...
they will never experience the joy of *******
as they will never experience the joy
of doing it yourself to yourself proper...
as they will never experience the joy of having
that ******* strangle the head of their phalluses
to a more prominent *******...
nor find a woman more exhilarated when she finds
our that you can do that trick...
i couldn't even if i wanted to... be circumcised...
i have two protruding veins encircling the tip
like those two serpents of the Staff of Hermes...
Caduceus...
                 each time i pull back the *******
i risk the chance of rupturing the veins...
now that would be a beautiful death... bleeding out
through one's ****...

went to the supermarket to stock up...
as usual this gorgeous Roma girl was selling the Big Issue...
the only socialist magazine i ever buy...
i don't buy the magazine for the content:
i buy it for her gorgeous smile... and those raven feathers
of her... her mocha skin...
anyway... skim reading...
HEALTH... how *** education is failing the young...
sophia smith galer...
oh right... this old chestnut...
because we had *** education in a catholic school?
i remember lessons on drugs...
the catholic system about educating children
about the perils of drugs involved...
ha ha... nothing about LSD nothing about marijuana...
alcohol passed them by...
we learned about the perils of either sniffing
glue or inhaling aerosoles... wow!
is this ******* Ukraine?! am i living in Ukraine?!

of course *** education is **** in England...
those ******* prunes are not plums
they're not wine and grapes: they're raisins...
ugh... no wonder i've been living in England
since the age of 8... now 36 and i still haven't slept
with an English girl... or a Scottish girl for that matter...
what?! it's true... Australian, French,
Romanian, Ukrainian, Turkish, Thai, Russian,
i'm guessing Ghanian... at least two black girls...
Kenyan? i'd love a Somalian girl...
let me think... nope... no English girl...
are they nuns or something?
             the *** education focuses on risk-assessments...
mind you... i did a risk assessment with
Khadija... she just giggled and said: living dangerously?
as we had unprotected ***...
now... a ****** would make sense...
if it was a full body ****** suit... that sounds
ultra ******* fun... but no role-playing...
just the raw back-wards and forwards...

truly: a man realises sooner rather than later that
he has three prime faculties:
imagination, thinking and memory...
and that he falls into at least one of the following
categories... recognising that, he: himself
is either a political animal,
a social animal... or a ****** animation...
i don't why he's an animal politically or socially...
but is a ****** animation: maybe because
*** animates man more than the other two
categories...

and when i mentioned that i abhor Thespians
with a passion: i wasn't referring to Thespians proper,
i was referring to the pornographers...
*** is unreal in reality: or at least it ought to be...
esp. if armed with two mirrors on the wall...
there are woman who can't keep eye contact
during *******... others that eat you with their eyes...
mind you: you can't learn about women at
first from women... you have to learn about
women from other men: of literature...
it takes about 5... to start learning about women
from women from yourself...
by then it's a solo project... it's not even an ego-tripping
affair... if beautiful women can share themselves
around... while those less fortunate have
the pillar of monogamy: you learn from the beautiful
women who went the route of prostitution:
well... nature is bountiful, it ought to be enjoyed:
fully! i can't just not share my love among
many... it would be unfair on the others to only
commit to one...

today i did the unthinkable... back in high school:
although it was a catholic 'un they admitted
the usual perverts... Egyptian... as young boys
we were comparing ****** hair and **** sizes...
we even measured our ***** in private and came
back with answers... i did it again...
everything looks small in my hands...
the width of both my hands and still there's
a head showing... i could pick up a basketball
with one hand by the time i was 16...

but all of this is good! it's vitality! it's virility!
as i gave this Roma girl £3 for the magazine
she smiled and said: god bless you...
where's my carriage?! where's my horse!
it felt so medieval...
i thanked her and already thought:
the gods have blessed me already...
they made me mad... and as you probably know
about the nature of madness:
you can't go mad twice... i'm recovering:
i was blessed in an instance...
oh hello there... little fella...
a grasshopper, aqua-green was clinging to my arm...
i tried to cycle ever so gently...
hitch-hiker! you're coming with me...
you're going to be so happy in my garden...
cycled with the little ****** back home...
put him on my index finger from my arm
onto the plum tree... a nice addition to the beauty
of my garden... the peaches and plums are bulging...

you couldn't possibly not learn anything
from Voltaire's Candide...
but i still don't understand English girls...
they talk the talk but don't walk the walk...
i don't understand ****** girls either...
the idea of boredom: in and of itself: by myself
is manageable... but sharing that special
instance of boredom with a woman:
to be bored by a woman? sounds insufferable...
and the damning aspect of this reality is probably
most likely to arise from ******-politics of constraint...

i couldn't stomach marriage... for one i couldn't
stomach having a piece of metal on my finger...
i abhor any symbolism of wealth in the form
of rings put on fingers...
i need my fingers clean... bare...
to me rings on fingers are a sign of a ******...
priest or otherwise ****...
they're disgusting.... just like earrings...
well... apart from those thin... very large rings...
and necklaces... all manner of piercings...
i prefer scars to tattoos...
  
hmm... anyone heard of... VAGINISMUS?!
a ****** pain disorder...
pelvic spasms... prevention of entry...
pain... i remember this one session with a girl
i really liked... no... it wasn't ****...
but she started crying during *******...
i hope she was crying about the fact that
i was slightly large back then... before i left
the realm of psychiatry and anti-psychotic medication
and let the world be itself... random...
yeah: but that felt ******...
you're ******* a girl and she starts crying...
psychosexual disorders...
depends what mood i'm in... and how little exercise
i have undertaken...
i mean: if you match up with a body
your mind has fetishes over...
plump... slightly larger... you simply can't
last a marathon of pumping
in the *******...
it's a bit like the GPS of birds migrating...
there's no explanation, proper, just a mystery...
i like this aspect of reality:
that not everything requires to be explained...
it just is... mysteriously so:
not magically... mysteriously so... because?
it's not an explanation can't be willed... summoned...
but... a human explanation of what's already
so ****** effective will not change the will
of said mystery... it just ****** is...
man can't improve on it...
and talking about it with explanations rids the mystery
of its aesthetics!
and we want beauty in our lives, don't we?!

well... i can't stand myself being this ***** and
not having an outlet... i need an outlet...
i need... flesh... i need two bodies prancing about
like toddlers in mirrors...
i'm finding myself thirsty...
i need to write an antidote to all that pornographic
exposure... i need to exercise...
i need to grasp Chinese selfless philosophy to
sooth me... i can't stomach the Greeks
or Christianity these days...
i need a second schism in Islam...
this would require... un-circumcised men...
men who might appreciate ******* with the feeling
a woman feels under the shower...
un-circumcised men who don't require
a payment for their circumcision with a woman
wearing a niqab... well... if she really wants
to... then at least linen... closer to white than black...
my god... Jesse Glynne... both ginger
and with curly hair...
    no no... i'm not missing out on the brothel tonight...
i'm already seeing how my eyes have lost
their iris and sclera: they're all shark-like
consumed by an expanding pupil...
oh... i'm serious... the Mamluks and the Janissaries
were serious people...
i have nothing left under the shadow of the crucifix...
no "higher event" manual argument
to turn my apostasy into a re-confrimation of
a faith that punishes rather than celebrates...
that moralises that punishes pleasures with pains...
this... sterile Greco-Hebrew conspiracy
against the Roman way of life...
as long as i scribble with these letters... the rest can burn:
it can moan with a mouth of a wound
that will never heal...
Johnny Noiπ Feb 2018
I used to sit in the girl’s locker room pulling my trigger
looking up their wet towels
until they felt okay enough to come in to see the president
of the united states *** his pants; reaching below
the mermaid filled sea & making them ***;
young as 9, old as 21; free white girls like ice-pops
& mom dropping them off goodly humoredly
for me to treat 'em to my ice cream needle cake;
lovelies in open thin plastic Halloween garb taking their ******* down & letting Dr. Satan get in there w/ his clawing fingers;
yeh, mommy, he even said trick-or-treat
while he was eating my candy;
every adult backing him up when he should have been put in front of a firing squad of parents; none would have missed;
it would have been a near miracle
spinning janus-faced I’ve always thought monsters
like that didn’t die unless they were killed by a bigger monster;
but enough girls at once make a pretty big woman;
as she walked crookedly & menstruated prematurely;
I was there, I saw the red stain; give it a meaty scoop
that isn't enough; ur life is over u will sit & wait to die in hell while ******* Bubba uses ur *** as a reusable ******; if ur lucky;
u’ve proven dreams do come true as long
as they're somebody else's nightmare
they'll say u know the drill;
O passed around like a 40 of swill: Making bourbon
in the broken toilet w/ ur old white *** & face;
this is prison baby;
this ain't no secret from nobody; that’s the voice
you'll hear as they q-tip ur **** until ur mother comes back to life & joins in; u made it; I mean u caused it; ur a specialist see;
No matter how late u stayed up recalling the agony writing ur life away in pain prescriptions to get paid by the same womanly wives; yoga milfs too old to ski ur old white *****
giving their daughters freely to procure oh so precious Olympic gold; ur were a can-do guy; now let’s see what u can really do;
you've got 175 years to figure it out, starting now...time’s up
dedicated to the father that clocked the *******
I must say
Though I am
Just a suthsayer
Not supersain
But this I say here
With a beer (non alcoholic)
In my hand
There are to
Types of memories
Milfs :
Memories I’d like to forget
And then there
Are glimmers:
The real good stuff
That you should remember
But I am just saying
Human to human
As a starseed
Not a supersayen
Johnny Noiπ Dec 2017
I believe it was mother giving birth
to the new age of the Carolingians
when the western waters were musical
in their way a waterfall of puke,
Rescuing milfs from silence---
Singing in the rain as whispering ***
parts on supernova-goddess-choirs of farts,
cinnamon permeating the eucharist---
Mother walking in tired, yes, sits
And love burns in childbirth,
Her hoodlum-daughter real news
Goddess-queen of the underworld,
Real news---mother said let there be light
And she saw the light of the nine muses
Dancing in flowing robes
The sun an eye I stopped to dance---
The fat dove flying through the window,
The western world puking on her daisies
The girl said her mother was a ****,
Oh, god, how she lied!
The twisted bunny eats the green leaves
and leaves the carrots---
The earth damp where u lay, sweaty fembot
U keep calling with no request:
Wake up, little Susie; lay down, Sally---
I believe it was mother giving birth
Johnny Noiπ Oct 2018
Paris was 17 he liked to wander outside the walls of Troy playing his lyre; until one day three MILFs cornered him in the glade & said: "which of us has the most desirable proportions?"
This question was put to him by no other then Hera, Queen of the Gods -
                                                 Paris was dumbfounded & needed advice.
Backstory:
an evil green-skinned ***** named Nemesis, who looked like she dressed
in the dark, kinda scrawny, not hot, & smelling like the fields [not in a good way] - so jealous was this underworld crone of any one's beauty that she either stole a bit of Gold, or exchanged her dry, stinky holes for it;
at any rate Nemesis fashioned a golden apple from this bit of glittery flotsam - - - And seeing the goddesses frolicking [seriously, they frolicked] naked as a flock of jaybirds & she casually strolled over and tosses the golden apple among them: the curse Nemesis has put on the golden fruit lies in that anyone who sees the so-called "Apple of Discord" immediately starts to fight over it.
Aphrodite, Athena & Hera are of course smarter than that
& thus proceed to find this kid stroking his instrument alone in the woods & ,,,

Back to the story:
Paris, as one would suspect is no great judge of character & seeks out one the one old horndog he knew could help him decide. Tiresias (/taɪˈriːsiəs/; Greek: Τειρεσίας, Teiresias) was the blind prophet of Apollo
in Thebes, famous for clairvoyance and for being transformed
into a woman for seven years. He was the son of the shepherd Everes
and the nymph Chariclo. Besides all that, they were old pals. ||
Tie, as his bud referred to the ancient prophet, asked the young Prince of Troy to reiterate the choices, given three instead of the usual simple two.
Paris thought, "Hmm, he said, "Hera offers me Power & wealth, but I'm a Prince. I already have power & wealth. Plus she's old." he concluded.
"Nobody's getting younger, ***. Who else? "
"Aphrodite offers love, but what is love? "
"*****, my boy. Snooch until the sun com up.
  That costs good money in these parts."
"But I'm the Prince, I can **** anything that move.
                                   I can even ******* if I want."
"Don't remind me. The third?"
"Oh, homely old Athena. She's offering me infinite wisdom & knowledge.
Who needs that?"
"I think I see where this is going.
  Eh, good look with all that, Paris. I'll, eh, see ya around.
   Sucker."
"What was that?"
  "Nothing."

— The End —