We friended on Facebook,
Scrolled down our profile pages.
Lived together in a virtual world.
Our images and websites we shared
With Instagram incisiveness.

Meet all my friends.
Block any you do not like.
All busy we are, doing nothing.
Like if you agree.

Laptops were not enough.
Users subscribed to Smartphones,
Iphones, and God knows what.
Google them if you wish.

And if you like my words
Retweet them.
But beware!
I now use words like lol,
And even ***!
Hehe.

Sometimes I multitask,
Flicking TV channels
Like a Subbuteo striker –
Gone virtual by now I guess.
Flicking and flipping while I scroll
My laptop page.

I make new tabs
As I message many friends:
Emoticons exploding
All along the way.

I’m Tivo-boxing clever
All the time,
King of my domain.

So get your VDU lit up
And monitor my words.
Download my thoughts
Into your memory banks.

I hope this all computes.

Paul Butters

on account of you:

she says: do you know you often smile when, day dream dozing?

me says: on account of you

she says: c’mon sweet talking man, ain’t gonna fall for that hooey!

me says: hooey, phooey, on account of you

she says: nah, you writing poetry, no fooling me no more!

me says: on account of you

she says: I bet you got one of your girl friends singing to you, through
those wireless earbuds, doncha? who is it this time? a Sara or Joni?

me says: on account of you.

she says: you think big shot, you can multitask b.s. me? doing three things
at the same time!

me says: on account of you

she says: on account of you, I’m seriously ******, you don’t tell me anymore
sweet lies and alibis, probably writing an ode to one of your poetry gf babes!

me says: on account of you, can’t count no more, how many love poems in my lifetime written, and this one too, going out to you, charged to my tab, you babe,
are my account, my accountant, my accounting....

There* is temporary.
There is love,
and there is happiness,
but here is now.
I wish I was back there.

.and believe me, you will never get into the music of Bohren & der Club of Gore... if you weren't played a lot of classical music as a child, and having graduated from classical music, moved onto jazz music... you will simply not get this band, notably the bass fetish fest on the album Midnight Radio; how did i graduate from classical music to jazz? my GCSE English teacher, a Scot, a Mr. Bunce... THOMAS! he experimented with writing on the basis of our music, my writing partner were to explore whether "satanic" metal music induced violence... we were supposed to speak... but didn't really... first my writing partner's song choice was played, Raammstein's Rein Raus... then mine... Slayer's Spill the Blood... but then one day he brought in a jazz CD... Jazz on a Summer's Day (a compilation)... with the opening track being art barkley's moanin', sooner than later i was asking him to borrow that Ben Webster album, where you can listen to the best cover of the song: how deep is the ocean... and then came Miles Davis... i was probably the only 15 year old who listened to the message literally, and followed the advice the day after, having bought the album... he said... whoever doesn't own Miles Davis' kind of blue by the time they're 30, well... then there's something seriously wrong with them.

who would have thought...
that wes borland
could craft such atmospheric
instrumentals...
well...
     given how atmospheric
the song hold on
was on chocolate starfish
and the hotdog flavored water,
i'm not surprised...
and almost akin to
to tom verlaine's album
around...
you take one listen
to the song jubilee
from the album crystal machete...
whatever the hell he did
with big dumb face
with that death-metal growl...
i'm happy he finally found
his strength to compose
purely instrumental music...
obviously he's not a guitar
maverick,
   in terms of showing-off
like some Van Halen or
a joe satriani...
the whole point was to craft
something akin
to the comparison with
the album kenotic (2005)
by the band hammock...
yes, great... you can pick up
the frets,
the solo *******
into excess..
but like food...
   where the balance of flavors,
and texture are important...
texture translated from
a critique of food...
into music?
       atmosphere...
the haunting lingering on...
a simple nuance,
   matched to a perfected
repetition...
what texture is in food,
atmosphere is in music...
now... i figured...
   if john frusciante could
tap into a purely instrumental
album,
  and forgot about singing...
he'd probably come out
with a Grammy's worth of
an album...
             i mean... i like his music...
but if he continues to
preserve the multitask
endeavor of singing,
and playing guitar?
    he's not prince...
                 but if wes borland
can move away from
  that... ******* that was
big dumb face...
and make something akin to
crystal machete?
then john frusciante
can pull-off a tom verlaine...
or at least work with
something akin
to davy graham's
virtuosity on the track
blue raga,
from the album
              large as life and twice
as natural (1968).

Oh great
Now I can multitask
Playing the piano and rethinking
All my stupid actions

Oh how great
Daydreaming even while playing piano
Simply marvellous
What a handy talent right?

Who doesn't want it
You get to practice
And set the background music
While you replay your nostalgic film
Of how dumb your words have been
How insensitive they were
How over the top you have been

A lovely talent
For a lovely mind

Monochrome buildings pave the way,
It's another monotonous day at the office.
And so starts my favourite routine
The required daily dose of caffeine
Sickly sweet sugar supplements
Occasional visits to the gents
Where in the tranquility
I can ponder what I'd like to be...

...Living so high the clouds are the sea,
No responsibilities!
I don't have to dress,
The butler can take care of the mess.
Jacuzzis, cruises, friends who I choose,
Admiring reflections in gold plated loos',
But perhaps I digress...

...Back to reality I guess.
If time flies when you're having fun,
Then pressing keyboards all day long
Makes every second crawl a marathon!
But I can multitask a bit.
I can breath and walk and talk and sit
While simultaneously pressing a button
And at the same time doing next to nothing!
But even then I can scavenge my mind,
And if I'm lucky I will find
That little paradise of mine...

...And faster than the eye can see,
I am covered in girls in bikinis
Whilst crashing Lamborghinis
Into modern art reflections,
Of my many types of perfection.
And I'll roll out, unharmed and afar
There's a feast for my eyes like caviar...

And if you find that hard to believe,
My imagination comes for free!
So I understand your private confession
That I must have the perfect profession.

self love and affirmations
are so cringeworthy to me --
that's mean, i know.
the perfect depiction of
schaudenfraude.
but it's so needed.

sometimes this space feels too small
with no more balcony
you blow smoke directly in my face
stain our ceiling fan black
give me a contact high
while i try to multitask on five
things at once,
unsuccessfully,
ever more unsuccessfully.

i've lost all focus.

i just want a clean bed,
soft sheets,
a sink free from ***** dishes
and every manner of walking and
flying insect
-- this constant infestation.

i just want clean air,
to breathe,
bikes that don't break and
don't get stolen.
shoes that protect my feet
from the grime that slickly coats
the sidewalks of LA black.
shoes that are also pretty.

i don't have any of this.
money, money, money
i'm always crying over you.
i'm sick of your ****,
but i'm forever bound to you.
and you treat me cruelly
taunt me with everything i can't have.

"joke's on you my friend,
you better guess again,
cause everybody's gotta pay their way"

"death is easy, life is hard"

On my shoulder a heap of garment
In two hands two birded cage
In my mind time management
That I love to do with craze!

List of my works to do
Keep growing in a hellish way
Clipping nails polishing shoe
Time is too short for one day!

When to do them you may ask
If all loose ends I’ve to tie
So I take up multitask
There’s not even time to die!

At 8.30 her medicine
9 I must run the pump
I must keep my cheek trim clean
Traitor time not run but jump!

With one hand I push toothbrush
With one eye I keep check on milk
Alertness aids in the morning rush
Time’s too alert for you to bilk!

Stairs to climb windows to open
Pluck some flowers from back garden
Time autocrat hears no bargain
Slow down a bit get a big burden!

I’ve to make time to blow her a kiss
Will be away whole day she’ll miss
While I peck I hold a biscuit
For the dog at the door badly needs it!

I don’t ever think time kind to me
Give me respite a little time free
But chase it hard without relent
A multitasker bent on time management!

*In this thankless pursuit I can’t tell thee
If I manage time or time manages me
But one thing sure I make time on bed
For not just love but what cooks in head!

For once I'll cut the language play
in favor of getting to the bottom and being outright
Forthright with the motions behind
two eyes, emotions and notions like wind at seaside
Sure words work and we can know
because words hurt
words save and alleviate
Been twisting words more than a decade on
but when I stop and think what actually have I done?
Nothing much, just talk, speak, write
Once did and still want to be a novelist
and if I can learn to multitask at the keys I might
but as it stands, the wheels spin forever in the parking lot
only accomplished in the close-up shot
and when backing up the facade crumbles all on its own
then as quick as the pretense rose, I have no home
night is cold without the future wrapped around
the curves to which you're devout
the future slips slippery forever
whoops!
accident again and it's gone
that last shred of impetus keeping me strong
what if there's meaning though in the steps that I walk?
what if my mistakes raked up fuel the others who don't belong?
maybe being me means just rolling the dice
I haven't died or taken a life so maybe I'm doing all right
let these missteps and hiccups lead not to backspace
but fill the heads full of that black shrouded beast
with what earnestness I have
so that in hopes, though, perhaps vain
I might smudge the pain so that
when you look in the mirror while you eat the pills
and see your shadow looming in grinning and licking your ear
the shadows don't make it that far and fade into light

I don't know

Strange times I live in
The age of social media and social struggles
my attention span is slightly longer than three lines of poetry

Stranger still is my moods and thrills
What the days have in store, nothing but the old tale of man and death
It keeps me running, forever asking for more, and here comes more

Must I become God, alienate myself, condemn our sins for a cheap righteous thrill?

Strange times I live in, I want to be 21 for entirety
I must become an established author
So my words may sink deeper in the pages of history
But all I have is my unnecessary sufferings
To translate my passion into fortune
And money is still worshiped
And nothing's sincere in things we worship

Or maybe I will join the actors up on that stage,
To get paid, busy myself and to ignore life's questions
I can almost her them shouting "giddy up! here's a mundane thing or two, I hope you can multitask"

I want to be a spectator on the side
Lingering in shadows, waiting for my act,
Forever waiting, even if I had no calling
For I hardly find a motive to get out of bed

So please, send in your warships, for man has outlived their Gods
And these strange times, are getting stranger still and I do not wish to live them through

I sometimes wish I had a one track mind, in a good way not bad
I wish I had a better ability to multitask, instead I get easily distracted
If there is too much noise it affects my ability to concentrate
If I'm too bored my mind might wander
If it's important I try to force myself to ponder
If given to many instructions in too short of time
I get confused
I don't want to lose sight of what I must learn
I yearn to do my best
I guess I need to cope with all the rest
I am experiencing some new job stress

only last night, having reach my fill of ms. amber bathing in a ginger ale jacuzzi - chasing a choir boy castrato cat waking me four times i had to utter in frustration (which i later noted): mortality is such an insufficient measure of things... i would be ****** if i didn't make a quick ode to Ovid's ****** poems... to truly appreciate performing oral *** on a woman? i suggest you first appreciate eating oysters... not oysters: no, having performed oral ***, looking at the moon in the quicksilver sheen to see your face all slobbered... an appreciation of eating oysters, is most certainly, a precursor to performing oral *** on a woman... beside:

wenn alles weisheit wurden zu kommen auf Indien -
if all wisdom were to come from India,

needless to say - these ancients still treat
greece as some sort of ongoing "experiment" -
that nothing, absolutely nothing:
is viable -
they might as well call it the still to progess
into a foundation state of affairs -
the west is seen as fickle -
a thought it not so much entrenched
and passed on, as it is made vogue one
generation - disappearing for some time:
before reappearing...

no proverbs ever came from the west:
nothing akin to:
besser ein spatz im ihr hand -
als ein taube auf ihr dach -
i just like how it sounds in german...
the original reads:
lepiej wróbel w ręce - niż gołąb na dachu
(better a sparrow in your hand,
than a dove upon your roof)...

legit. proverb: hold the simpler joys
in your hand, closest to you,
that look up and think that a dove
upon your roof will bring peace to
your household...

as long as everyone under the roof
has simple and "immediate" joys in hand
close to the heart...
peace is not tempted by spotting
a dove on your roof...

here's another one... and i was looking and
i was looking and i was looking
and i thought i couldn't find some,
some sort of alternative...
if only Ted Bundy went down this route...
then again... if he did...
he would have started jerking off
to fine art... the detail of the tongues,
the ***** and the ability to filter
out what is happening outside the erotica...
what?
i will drill this example in...
every, single, time:
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...

perhaps i am that old,
before free internet *******...
some of us had the ***** and the rose cheeks
to walk into a newsagent and pick
up a pornomag...

well... "*****" - more like...
sculptor's digest... or...
**** subject pages for that lesson
you'd love to take at school
where you could paint a ****...
oh hell: paint all the flowers in the world...
flower: covert: female genitals...
all the flowers in the world...
but not the torso and the mystery
of the bellybutton
nor the cow-sacks of Surabhi...
after all... they started multiplying in number
and you couldn't, after a while,
tell apart what it was about them...
peach on the front,
peach on the back...
and what would a hindu know of
the tetragrammaton?
when H... is a surd in their language?

i tried almost everything...
but upon my final discovery...
hell... it just started making sense...
glory-hole... the dreaded lesbian genre...
once in a brothel i was asked if
i wanted 2 hours with her,
or an hour with her and her friend,
i replied: i still don't know what i'm
going to do with you...
i don't live by the motto:
the world is divided into men
who have slept with two women
and a the men who haven't...

give me two legs of chicken...
i'll know what to do...
a woman can multitask...
after all... if a muslim gets 72 virgins...
a woman is guaranteed her
3 greyhounds... one for each 'ole!
'ere comes the charging bull...

der wesheit auf Indien:
nothing reflexive about it -
just enough to ease you into a mirror
of non-reflection:
i.e. something to destroy the self
with and incorporate -
a billionth part of yourself...
wisdom worthy of meditation -
but not exactly stretching
into a labyrinth of thought -
call it all you like:
clumsy thinking,
spaghetti alleys and cul de sacs,
the labyrinth -
why complicate life, which is already
complicated, by complicating thought?
after all: what is thought?
the first question of the θ-moral?
the th'ought i?

oh don't get me wrong...
that an elephant shouldn't exactly pair
up to a rabbit in the kama sutra:
spot on...

even i became tired of the meat-market...
after a while i just felt like a butcher
looking at cuts of meat...
cam-girls: i don't remember paying...
the genres... god... i probably looked
at 5 in total...
hello exotica... ebony...
glory-hole... ****...
the horrid affair of the extremes -
lars von trier nymphomaniac
confessions type of genres...
hell... i even tried ******...
but still: the meat-market...

well no point looking for alternatives
in the islamic world...
unless you are really ***** for
eyes in the kneeling position
while looking to and from the heavens
of a catholic confessional booth...

some variant of softcore ****:
latex whole body suits...
girls in gimp suits with a zipper
for a genital opening...

but still the meat market...
****? only to laugh at the farts...
but still... the meat-market...
and still the all pervading sense of voyeurism!
that's not enough, it wasn't enough to begin with,
then i'd come across articles
in legit. newspapers (the times)
about how women tend to watch
more violent *******...

for a while i entertained the no-man's land
affair with girls ******* videos...
**** became a little bit weird
when i turned that upside down
and focused on: pregnant women
*******...
and... i just borrowed something from
a 1976 novel by Michael Crichton:
eaters of the dead -
better known as the Wendol in the film
the 13th warrior -
where the diety was a pregnant woman...
i played into that fantasy...
which coincided with the time
i ****** off ******* for 2 hours
and imagined:
well... i guess... ******* are off limits
to men when a woman has a baby...
and she's actually breastfeeding...
i couldn't imagine this fantasy to live
beyond that date of conception
through to having finished breastfeeding
a child... but... for a while...
i gave careful attention...
to what it would be like...
with a lactating woman...

that was the zenith of my exploration...
eh... *** parties? filmed in those shabby
intz intz horrid dance music scenes?
n'ah... i wanted something more...
more... archetypical...
something teasing the forbidden...
but not forbidden as such...
something akin to:
having to convince her to **** while
on her period, in a bath,
wearing a ******: to ease, the, cramps!

ugh... czech house party *** scenes...
or those scenes from prague,
the inverted glory-holes...
what you see are cubicles
of women's legs sticking out...
again:
too much imagination already given...
none of this was akin to
Bronzino's venus, cupid, folly and time...
everything was moving,
i was nothing more than a ******,
always the 5th wheel of the wagon...
somehow, yeah, "somehow" necessary...
even if a woman was ******* 3 at the same time,
there was the fourth... watching...
via the 5th one: filming...

hyper-geometry of a triangle...

what was essentially missing?
accents of eroticism - subtlety -
to have an image in your mind - quiet static -
and to allow your imagination to seep in...
all the other western alternatives
were nothing but meat-markets / slaughterhouses...
none of your imagination could seep in...
not even with the first pornomags
of my teen years...
protruding ******* like the eyes
of judge doom from: who framed roget rabbit...
which always begged the question...
very much akin to the question
posed by Milan Kundera in:
the unbearable lightness of being...
**** with your eyes closed...
or your eyes open?

the sensuality of worms and all those
murky beings: primordial *** -
eyes closed -

      eyes open? the seemingly anti-sensual
inconvenience of mammalian
reproduction - with no pain upon giving
birth: what pleasure upon reaching an ******?
asked the wind of a savannah to its inhabitants.

Islam still wasn't helping -
i could never understand how a woman's eyes
were the most ****** aspect of a woman's body...
perhaps her hands...
well if you have hands like i have...
what you have in your pants isn't exactly
an ego-trip... you're holding a sparrow...
she's holding a bulging ribcage of an albatros!
you can hold a basketball with one hand...
and she is... a knuckle short of your four...
why wouldn't a woman's hands be the most
****** aspect of her body...
after all... a non-discriminatory plateau:
all are the hands of a a geisha...

geisha... islamic eroticism still isn't working...
hair... hair...
a lot of people complain if they have
a fly / a hair in their soup when served
in a restaurant... jokes on me...
i have a beard and the hairs of the beard
are the same consistency of ***** hair...
so i basically have ***** on my face...
ha ha...
why hair? what's so ****** about hair?
what if i tell you that as women age...
almost all of them decide for the pixie girl look -
and what if i told you that...
ifindwomenwithshorthairintheiryouththezenithoferotica?
ag­ain... islam isn't helping...


.a thing of genuine beauty, is always predicated upon transcendent value of inquiry... to transcend the common, daily, human squabbles... it becomes areligous... while daily human squabbles continue, what has been lost, is an item of transcendence, it was never to be a focus of some "parasitical" sycophancy of tourism... there's nothing to be celebrated, and... nothing much to be awed by either.

well, what did the ottoman turks
do to the hagia sophia?
they converted it,
but they weren't philistines
to the point,
   or say, a bunch rabid mongols
from the 13th century
in Bagdad...
                      like:
                     and why didn't
the nazis not destroy certain valuable
cultural cruxes?
   that picture of st. paul's cathedral
during the blitz...
  yes, the english might think
it was a symbol of defiance...
but i'm pretty ******* sure
that if one luftwaffe bomber dropped
something on st. paul's,
they'd return home and be
shot by a firing squad...
            they might have been
nazis... but they weren't philistines...
even the ottomans...
süleymaniye was so jealous
of the byzantine building
that he had to commission the construction
of a building to match-up
to the hagia sophia in some
way...
           again:
                  prank call buddha...
tell him they're also
tearing down idols in northern europe
with their phallus cult
           of the large wooden
***** carved from a tree.
what's that?        you yell'ah?
i mean: in the heyday
   of scandinavian black metal...
varg vikernes... 'nuf' said.

_________
a

Hey dearest Girl friend, you're more than meets the eye.
There's more to you than the world see and only you can feel
You are more than the current moment, may be  stuck, but not for too long

You're fierce and engaging
A lioness in her own den, you are predictive and predetermined
A conquer, you have fought so many battles, Zues would be jealous

Going from house to house, you have served!
Moving from office to office, you have worked!
From one business to the other, you have thrived!
From street to street,  you have hawked!

You move mountains with determination
Your mere presence sets them on fire
You are a woman first,
A sister
Sometimes you're a wife but above all,
You are a mother.

You are the best work of art God created to multitask
A Russian-roulette any man would **** to be victorious for.

You are a reason for inspiring inclusion.
Happy International Women's Day Queen!

Bellah

I have never thrown
A stone at two
Birds

I'm not without
Sin, this house
Is all glass

And besides, who
Needs to **** anything
To multitask

Hot tears stream down his face as the
realization hits him that this is the last game
he will play on his home turf.
He hands his proud mother a single rose
and wraps his arms around her.
His face presses into her shoulder as
tears soak his away jersey that his mother wears on her back.
She's there to comfort him.
Only he doesn't feel that way.
He's scared.
Where will he be a year from now?
He remains scared the whole game.
He then feels ice cold fingers grip the neck of his shoulder and chest pads.
He turns to meet the face of the person who make his skin cool.
Her smile warms.
He tries to stay positive and polite while she talks to him,
as he tries to multitask and focus on the game.
But internally, he wants to cry again.
Therefore, he ends up snapping at her,
feeling guilty about it.
Wanting her to walk away and forget everything that just came
out of his mouth.

If you are on your cell phone, don't drive behind me.  I love my life, and I love being free.
If you have a habit of driving fast, don't drive behind me.  I don't want you hitting my car making me blind, being unable to see.
If you decide to drink, don't drive behind me.  I don't know what you are thinking about, but I know what I want to be.
If you decide to text, don't drive behind me.  Better yet, don't even turn the key.  
If you are one of those who love to multitask, don't drive behind me.  You don't want to end up in court, paying a very large fee.
If you are holding a big burger in your hand, don't drive behind me.  I want to be able to walk, without a damaged knee.
If you drive putting on makeup, don't drive behind me.  Anything is subject to happen, from A to Z.
By, Author & Poet, Sandra Juanita Nailing

My little tiny bundle of joy,
Oh how sweetly you sleep,
Such innocence present on your face,
Oh how I wish I could sleep so soundly,
Not a worry, just for milk.
Not a worry, just someone to change you.
Oh how quickly you go from laughing to crying.
Oh, how confusing it can be.
Especially when you multitask,
Doing both simultaneously.
I love you so much forever and always.
Please never stop being my bundle of joy.
I'll always be here for you,
Whenever unconditional love is needed.

These latencies
Of mine and yours,
At an mph speed,
Can only drag so much.

Up-and-coming causes
Of committees without agencies
Of time and power,
It unfolds precariously.

It struck me that
There's no best way
To micromanage or multitask,
I cannot prioritize a world,
The common ground beneath a porcelain vase.

So, I'm here to reason
In the hapless flow and fluid blast.

I grabbed your hand,
and we went to explore.
I liked this world with you,
but im looking for more.
Im not a normal person,
I don't wanna go for a walk.
I wanna run really fast,
multitask, do more than talk.
This life is my journey,
not a carefully thought out plan.
I've made many mistakes,
and in life every person can.
Theres things I wanna accomplish,
and I intend to get there.
Although I am surrounded,
by people that couldn't care.
You're still holding my hand,
but now you wanna walk.
You don't realize what I want,
I guess we need to talk.
This world seems different now,
with you it doesn't feel right.
So im letting go of you,
like a kid flying a kite.
So anyone up for adventure?
and in life looking for more?
Grab my hand lets go,
I'm ready to explore.
We'll call it our journey,
our rollercoaster ride.
Going at it together,
and staying side by side.

Always,
Tameica Hammick

There's one thing on your mind
Being overthinking is good in your health.
You can be creative in such way
You can multitask things you want
To achieve.
You can look at things differently
And try to accompany it in your life.
And apply it in your daily basis

Why you're excellent, as you be
Back data assets up & rebooty
Whatcha building over there?
Performative nicety vs. Authentic, genuine care
De-meaning words doesn't strip content of potency, accuracy, just shows a lack of imagination, creativity, care and clarity
Lords of the land were supposed to provide, not take money and chide
Vortexial resonance fields vs. Resistance
Hieros Gamos herostratus and burnt bridges
Hail Mary not pass her like a go-round, no wonder lede was buried instead of being lifted off the ground
Multitask, switchtask, background processes outlast
Self determinaton, loose will, neuromuscular triggering labours past
Anything not bringing ease is a labour, and deserves wage fees if benefitting other deities~
Ancienne previous
Nothing is actually mine
Pop a Placebo fx 2 see
Kaliki Golden Dark Horse Energy
Iku-tihku Emuu Tavatar
Star avatars
Like cutting down a tree to make woodrose
If we're all just a mirror hallucination of eachother, what do you think/say about other people?
Not comprehending something doesnt mean there isn't something profound there to be learned.
Preference of another, is momentary, but crucial
That might involve friction, challenge, and confrontation of a situation
Articulation, translation, communication
Jokes for me, heyoka for yew
Devi takes the W - yew enjoy deviw
If you think I exist amazingly in suffering, I will be brilliant when in capacity and happy... as we all will be...
Multiplayer co-op, not a pvp~ complex single player co-op, actually, where your judge is actually the best form of yourself that knows everything.
If you say so, but why you say it so?
New blood type found, kin
Filleth cups over, use surplus - don't use and discard humans like batters, maximum efficiency and pull energy from excess
Dynamic flow hyperpower
Gimme back those wyrds, spellcasting songs
Palindromic poorroop, soonoos operepo infinifni
When did nerds
What if? (deities song)
"That sounds like a personal issue" preferences vs. judgements, comprehension in communication.
Lemme honour the ancestors by being phi-nominal, matrilineal matroshka polka
Add a yet to it
Immortality vs. Immorality
The Garden of Idun, Yew Tree, Asherah - Pomme de Sang
Tryna be your friend
Kira mari kin, what's your name?
Eagles are pretty vultures that are known by the sound of a hawk.
Heibai try-angles
Wicked faeries and loyal opposition
The mandlebrot set crux point - the chosen
Buoy oh boats
Original thot
Tmesis Pie
What do you want?
Yet to cry, sing or shout at full volume - I care about others around me more than myself, cause I can handle disappointment.
The art of self-deselection
Packets of neuronic bundles
Sympathetic resonant frequencies
Waiting at the finnish line, for another laplander
Standing in the way of flow makes the ******
monkeys comprehend disparity - fight for fairness, rules and bananas
Praise, flattery, advice & criticism
Clarifying Questions~
Basic Instruction Before Leaving Earth, heaven in the astral field
Don't insult your spirit, (can't you hear it?) By copying others.
Can't fool aether, just lie to the self, system be as it is...
Phi-bonna-chi arch and phi-nominal, additionally
Notice what's around
Add what came before
Songs for childish humans
Would a purehearted child stick around to watch?
Perpetual children
Pitch For Kin
Betta zen Mama
Biblios, early facebook, deities spelling it out
X-pyred corpse used to be a nest
Sometimes we have to hear a concept 1000x before it clicks.
Gender is temporary, spirit is not
Pjeunian paradise pleasurecraft
Diff between humans & computers - strange programming languages
Horoscopic cylons
A boy named Susanoo and the story of the sun & moon
Neutrinos and Muons they do what they wanna - Snarky Quarky Boogie
Timey Wimey Jeremy Beremy Hobson Jobson
kulukuset & kolokola: tintinambulation
Can I talk around it?
In the spiritual caste system watchers are worse than golems cause they are everybody's follower, thus lowest wrung... eye in the sky, if it's a wicked eye, is basically just perspective... they are beneath all, just egotistically trapped

High praise:
Ultrasonic Wavecore
Doo be dabbas, da double dragons
Electric eels of sol
Big dumb babies
Wild child doom baby
Perpetual Unicorn of Learning
Pounding Piano Puppies

Two dudes in the cornah touchin tipz, too busy with the space en-forcah heibai brudderhood to care for diz.

Accidental Leakage:
Ron noR recappin ** down
Buttlenecked middlemen chugging diarrhea in a filthy trickledownz system
sense-a-bull
Time-tellingTriangularizartion
Sassy rebukes in the moment instead of beta ****** gossipers when a person can't defend themselves...
******* singing
Hallelu-sin-nation
Cause 7 8 9

The truth we should tell?
If it's hard and hurts then you don't want to hear it, huh?
Yeah I know but still.
I respond to one part only,
Just as I can multitask doesn't mean I will.
The truth is nothing's ever good enough,
Anything we could do,
There's always faults wherever you are but what's it like to ignore them?
Sometimes I think I ignore plenty,
Even though there is still many,
You can never run away from anything
And facing them doesn't always work out.
In fact I don't think we realise
What facing up to things are either
-I don't-
If you're scared of something,
Then you gave it the chance didn't you?
So haven't we faced up to it?
I have no clue it's like we can only praise ourselves for this if we succeeded,
If we made it past it,
But when I past obstacles I act like it meant nothing,
So that I can disconnect from it because I don't want anymore of it again so I say it's gone now.

My ego burst during lockdown,
My wife is a housewife,
I bring home a fat salary,
The breadwinner.
I felt my wife did little at home,
And I complained all the time demanding attention.
All that changed when I stayed at home during lockdown,
I realised being a homemaker is a multitask,
A 24/7 job with no leave or bonuses,
Why my children are so close to their mother than me,
Her gifts their hugs and laughter and sometimes praise from me,
I respect my wife's  career and am glad for lockdown.
19/1/2021

We never think because we never do, we just assume that we'll all pull through, almost as if the needle and thread are all in the head,
one day because I can't multitask I will ask the right questions, put sixpence in the slot and get lots of answers,
but not today, I can't afford to fritter my money away,

do fritters remind you of spam?
my mam made lots of them back then
in the poor times when we were richer.

paradox, odd socks, even numbers, more questions, the giant slumbers, Arthur in Camelot trotting out his knights, totting up the nights spent with Guinevere, we're lucky we don't know where dreams go when they fail, Tintagel and the holy grail, British Rail, Leyland? just a memory that floats in British steel.

I got the feel for living with the dead
the needle and the thread
sewing it all together.,