t                  h
           e    y            s          a y    
        t   hey     kn    ow lo    ve
       but wh en    th    ey s     ee
        two boys   holding their
           ha    nds i   n     lov  e
                why do they on
                    ly say it is
                        a sin
                           ?

and the sweat lingers with a
thin film of dust, dirt, mold --
whichever what have you.
what little hydration left of
this soft fleshy vessel seeps
through this veil. creating
rivers of mud that flood the
eyes and blind. though hue
of general existence if silh-
outted. and we follow the sou-
nds hoped spoke on the proper
path. shambling the brush,
ankles caught tight in the
thorns of the undergrowth.
never a first in leaving a
blooded footpath home. and
false words call us upon a
path in Life long returned to
Nature from man. and with blin-
ded eyes and gnarled sense,
trouncing the threshold of door
long closed, fearing only the
chance of having all ended.
the Ocean's desert is nothing
but the sweat of Man's ages'
turned to dust. ended of a
vessel when purpose has seen
fulfillment. to nurture, and
bring forth perpetuation of the
curious disappeared mysteries
resting unburdened, with ponde-
ring left nulled. and recreation,
re-mythologizing aeons not long
past. only a couple thousand
since the last hoarfrost blast.

H aven for those who’s words are never read
E ven though they pour their souls and very
L ives and spirit through their pens or
L et their fingers nurture beautiful tomorrows
O n the keyboards of their creativity.

P oetry is the blood that pumps
O ut wondrous magic from those fertile minds that
E nds up on a glowing screen or printed page, in hopes
T hat it can give birth to a long awaited
R ennaissance in the thinking of the world, and create a
Y earning for a better way to live and love.
ljm

keep the window open i cant stand to smell your skin, you are shivering. youre cold
(you tell me so (you want a response (i nod,)))
(but you are still cold)
do you have any
fantasies?
this halting voice heaves in my stomach pressing against the walls, making
me sick, the snap of your blinking lids a pickaxe to my temple. i think about
fire
a lot. i think about forest fires. filling the tank in a dead town, dark night quiet town,
the gas tank overflows (your nervous eyes in your sweating sticky face {your twitching gaze stroking the lighter in the glove compartment} dry dry lips {your wet tongue only makes them dryer})
breathing in her ear you say tie me to the stake tight tight so rope burn sears my wrist,
burn me with the dry kindling,
condensation drips down her neck, sliding down the arm. on the sidewalk in the pit of her shadow a puddle forms, wetting the wings of the unhappy wasps, joints twisted, the gaps in the exoskeleton show something bright, something bulbous, with forceps and needles it could be reached? its delicate skin pierced, oozing thick light (do you have any
fantasies?)
[so there are two of me, right,
clones, equivalent beings but
individuals. some sort of sick
government secret. human ex
periments. its not important.
i grab my clone by the neck or
it grabs me, its not important,
the dust billows when my feet
skid, im choking, vision blurr
ing, i claw at my hands, we f
all, dust bursts into the air, m
y fist makes sick thudding sou
nds when it hits, bruising my
knuckles on the structural bon
es of my face, possibly breaki
ng the more delicate ones. im
straddling my chest and im s
pitting out the teeth that i di
dnt swallow. then the clones
****? im not really sure.]

What is grace?

Grace is
Gained
Righteousness
At
Christ's  
Expense
Meaning that with Jesus' death on the cross, he purchased for us a right relationship with God that we could not have earned for ourselves because

Grace is
Received
And
Cannot be
Earned

And once this
Gift is
Realised it
Adequantely
Covers
Everything
Meaning that every debt is paid, every single sin past, present and future is washed away.
So come expectantly because grace is a
Growing
Revolution
And
Carnal
Execution
Which means that as we leave the flesh behind and die more and more to ourselves, we are stepping into a movement that continues to change to world by
Giving
Redemption
And
Communion to
Everyone

God is
Granting
Rest
After
Condemnation
Ends
Because the
Gap has been
Realised
And
Connected
Entirely
A bridge has been built, the battle has been won and
God
Riegns
And
Christ is
Exalted

a medieval blacksmith, insO̲—
—much as lyrical material of mine gets cast sim. to cold
weapons; I'd say, as anything mind-distracting, like dope
["destructing"]
lyric-writing acts in the role
of temp rise, 'cause it unshadows the mind
like da[ɛ]mn skies, dissipating clouds of lack of delight
which is whY̲ I clepe
it as "mind eclipse" (lack of the light)
hence all the grimness seen in mY̲ bar sheets (chernukha)
like someone having a flight, a bored, tragedy wight
["aboard"]
lashings of spite I add in my lines
a geek practicing harassment in rhymes
as a pastime; an antihero, like Frank Castle I side
with on going against baddies with vice (lesser evil)
'cause you can't battle a knight
or a savage canine, or seize a bastion by
means of any kind of chatting (good luck managing that, gandhists)
get real; chances of collapsing
a toughened up corrupt regime by tranquil, brawl-free rallies
are as high as a bA̲nged up substance addict
can be (highly unlikely); though I keep the anti-autocratic
subject matter frontline, for ones who half-a##edly indite
their lyrics, it's casket likewise; a wA̲ck sod with pine
boxes & nails for 'em; & thA̲t's something I'm
more than glad to provide
you with; tra[ɛ]nslation: you ain't sA̲fe, chumps
[a casket isn't a safe, hence "it's casket" means "it isn't/ain't safe"]
like an offer to have a sled ride
"dude, let's slay some"
["sleigh"]
said the voice of the Islamist radical-like rapper in my
bean (Shady); "let's bring a da[ɛ]ng mayhem"
["bin Shady": Osama bin Laden + Slim Shady, who's a lyrical terrorist]
it added with passion, then I'm
like: "sounds like a blast of a time" (kaboom)
but no[ɑ]t to you, be—cause I'm on my violent bullsh#t (again)
like a jihadi loony; with these lines I'm suited
up with, you'll be blasted like plants bY̲ a shrE̲wd wind
or like a head of state ordained to invade
a neighboring state
in this **** field, I feel
like Max Payne with a gauge
[shotgun]
in a prey-tE̲E̲ming weald
hunting as sport; slay just to main—
—tain some relish & killing skills
you're like misbehavior-free slaves
in this field; translation: you're tame (lyrically)
["tranSLAYtion"]
therefore, you're unwished-for
like anyone & anything with a high lack of approval
[by "high lack of approval" I mean "dissent"]
on politics of the regime of some dastardly ruler (dastardly ruler)
drunk by the power he keeps a tight grA̲sp on & moola (power & moola)
just like Vlad the mean puta (Vlad the mean puta)
code name's lavato[—]ry shooter (lavatory shooter)
you jacklegs remind
me of simple cases or the Batman that time
when he wound up with his bA̲ck damaged by
Bane, 'cause I get you cracked with no strife
just like trash, you would wi[aɪ]nd
up in the dumps if you set your crap next to mine
and let ones being into rap scrutinize
your level of lyrical threat's to splatter a high—
—ball glass or stuff like
that, punks; me? like an armor-clA̲d man, a night—
["knight"]
—mare; Dante strapped with a scythe
[Dante from the "Devil May Cry" video game series]
the way I whack, it's so tight
that I have my device playing some phA̲t beats as I
masterly slice you hacks into stripes
like the Senyera; rap di̲letta[ɑ]nti
and political oppressors are picked as targets
and I may be read as a vigila[ɑ]nte
'cause I go after you like
V; like 2 sawbones having a fight with their scalpel-like knives
[I go after the aforementiond figures in my lyrics]
["after U [which is followed by V]"; V from "V for Vendetta"]
a pa[ɛ]radox while A̲t it 'cause I go autocratic, despite
["pair of docs"]
the views thA̲t I stick by; other words, I kick A̲## as if I
were dealing a jA̲cka## foot strikes
[I'm against unjustified maltreatment of animals, that sentence is just for wordplay]
a rebel thinker with a wrA̲pped up in rhymes
sick, hazardous mind bringing lyrical disasters & crimes
oh, there's one I'm imagining right
now; a rap-writing dabbler, besides an autocratic *****, wi[aɪ]nds
up inside a hearse
with me being A̲t the wheel like
a town that's rife in terms
of poison-pushing; a psychopA̲th when I drive
["atterville"; "****** path"]
speed up to 150 miles per
hour on a track in Alpine
heights, pound a go[ɑ]ddamn curb
barrier breaching it & sending the wagon in flight
open out the driver door
and jump out with a 'chute backpA̲ck on my spine (bye-f#cking-bye!)
watching the car go down, just like a war
criminal busted, & whereafter burst, like
brain arteries of a nazissistic scoundrel; like reports
saying an autocratic piece of trash nullifies
the limit of his presiding terms
I'm bA̲d news when I'm
on my lyric-writing horse
[the "high horse" expression]
like cavalry; I'd like a dastardly, vice-ridden autocrat to reply
["riding horse"]
with lyrics to any of the crA̲p I've devised
in opposition to authoritarianism
should I send some to the office with galore of rE̲A̲r-licking minions
of that "it's all the nasty West" guy
or that's suicide?

SanITY is merely a Social constraint
A M E A S U R E M E N T of normality to which

ALL
are expected to conform.
What if we lived in a world where sanity didn’t exist?
????????????????           ???????????????
where every body was completely
U  R  S  R  C  E
  N  E  T   I   T  D
Where Politeness was a curse and Con form ity a sIn
To B tru lee
“”          
to  Act and speak without                                                                        FEAR
to SPEAK with our MINDS
to LOVE UncontrolABLEy
to not be  Afraid of fear.
To encounter each proble m as  a
GLOBAL COMMUNITY
S   ev     era      l  m i   nds th  ink    inga  s        ONE

           thought
to let                 wander aimlessly like a cloud.
To be intoxicated by life.
To LOVE
To LIVE to be
HAPPY

August 8, 1999

Holá, "I never really feel a thing, I'm just kinda too frozen"
Only you, "you were the only one that ever came close."
Loving you is the best... "And another
Day goes by, So hold

Me tight or don't. Oh no, this isn't how our story
Ends." "I

Took too many hits off this memory,
I* need to come down."
Gonna love you forever and
Hold you
Tight no matter what!

"Oh na na na na na na na...."
"Realized I can't not be with you Or be just your friend."

Down to be with you and
Only you! You're the love of my life
"Na na na na,*" I'm never coming down from
This love!

Someone told me
you can't write (p)oetry ab(o)ut things
you don't want to romanticiz(e).

So for a long (t)ime
(because of w(r)ong people like (y)ou)
I d(i)dn't write drunk,
becau(s)e the(n) I c(o)uldn't
guard my feelings.

But now I'm drunk as hell
and no(t)hing in my life
is close to romantic
and I don't have to explain to you
why (b)oats, oc(e)ans, and words
are the only things
that e(a)se my open wo(u)nds.

I don'(t) have to tell you why
I don't scream or cry or f(i)ght
when I think about how many of my (f)riends
killed themselves.
I write instead,
and it's not romantic.

I am not
in love
with words.

I am
in love
with them
and they're no longer here,
breathing, holding my hand,
and singing me songs about rivers
and how we'll always find each other.

But we won't,
because there's not a
single f(u)cking romantic thing
about how I'll never hold their hands
again.

So I drink,
and I write,
and I do not (l)isten
to people like you.

Remember
Everything
E*nds

Ree - To riddle; to sift; to separate or throw off.

Like the
music
I listen
to:
sounds
sou
nds
wh
wha
t at ht
rhy
rhythm
thm to
follow ow
rep
eat rep
rep eating
loops like
hoops
oops

li̲ke what one better
do before going on a hI̲ke, sim.
to that c#cks#cking spineless oppressor
known for bunker-hiding
having bo[ɑ]nds with crI̲me rings
government-budget-trifling
ruling-term-limit-nullifying; sto[ɑ]p, that's
no[ɑ]t it; go[ɑ]tten sidetracked
like a trolley; I̲'m gon' wind back
like what one better
do before going hiking, mind weather
is sort of lame: mostly storm & rain
[anger & mirthlessness]
as before, for this world's insane
plagued by corruption-sparked crime
[according to ocindex.net, worldwide organized crime level]
[rose from 4.87 in 2021 to 5.03 in 2023]
just like the emergence place
of the Dark Knight
[Gotham City]
and the realness of yours remains
something between a nocturnal phase
of a solar day (murk) & an urbanscape
when it's fa[ɔ]ll in reign (gray)
like aqua drO̲[ɑ]ps desc—
—ending fro[ʌ]m skies; sometimes
["falling rain"]
your attic gets overta'en
by go[ɑ]ddamn darkness
like in horror games
or films; dark 'nough you
would no[ɑ]t mind to
watch this world get destroyed in flames
which sounds like the Joker case
[the Alfred's quote about the Joker from "The Dark Knight"]
["some men just want to watch the world burn"]
and, in fact, is a scene sO̲ **** great
and worth slaying for, given, like a person blamed
no longer for a fau[ɔ]lt he made
["forgiven"]
how badly this world's depraved
by the wicked; all the anti-fascist discourse
conveyed by me, like an ******* act, in the course
["*******"]
of a bit more than twain
years; like a deserted place
it's about to be void; I'd say
sim. to Wild West bad boys, I fave
black hats (the hell?); but, of **** course, when they
wind up in stirs, or slain
or in some other misfortune state (ha-ha)
like the country with that Kim **** in reign
[North Korea]
a grim, morbid frame
of mind; read that sick verse I laid
as a part of "POAA" &, before it's late
["punishment of an autocrat" ]
consider reaching a go[ɑ]ddamn asylum
as for the destruction piece, 'course, it ain't
the whole world, but org. crI̲me bands & tyrants
along with loyal aides
of theirs that deserve the fate
mentioned; for, you see, a[ɔ]ll that they
regard highly's riches, which is low
as hell & pretty typical
[it's not money itself that's the problem]
[the problem is the love of money, which (especially when obsessive)]
[as it's known, is a root of nigh-on all kinds of evil]
this world deserves a better breed of criminal
the breed of individual
who'd be ge[ɪ]tting rid of those egotistic rogues
[by "a better breed of criminal", I mean vigilantes]
[the scene from "The Dark Knight"]
[where the Joker sets a money pile aflame with the following words]
["all you care about is money; this town deserves a better class of criminal"]
————————————————————————————————
this world's sick as heedless folks
in pre-middle ages; the wicked means proposed
is a part of a needed serial
treatment of this fierce disease provoked
by a lack/loss of a syst. of principles (corruption)
and known as injustice (global injustice)
when there is nil or low
commitment from good people, evil grows
["kneel"]
["the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing"]

he wakes up to the sight of her donning back her clothing
"what a happy moment"
he thinks, then, taking a good look A̲t her, notes in
his mind: "hell, this lass is smoking"
[smoking hot]
like a barrel of a gat unloaded
she, having noticed that her inamorato's woken
up, gives him a salutation: "sweet morning!"
he replies: "so sweet I A̲I̲n't even sU̲re if
it's real; am I having an amazing dream O̲r it's
paradise?" his reply makes the chica giggle
then she replies: "hope it's not wA̲Y̲ disappointing
to hear, but nay, it's still the sinful
world of the living"; she then sA̲Y̲s she was going
to wA̲ke him up were he
in dreamland by the time she would
have been set to tA̲ke off; "I'm sorry"
she continues, - "but I need to
get to my place; I..."; "hold O̲[ɑ]n, if you"
he interrupts her, - "have 5 plus mins to
have a convo, I'd like to say some-thing to
you"; she replies: "I ain't in a rush, mate
so, yeah, I'll give you
an ear", like a side space on a gazette's front page
as he gets himself decent, he strikes
up speaking his mind:
"in this existence of mine, it's the first time
I'm feeling alive, & I'd be dE̲moralized
knowing our encounter's ju[ɪ]st a one-time
thing; you're pretty as a pI̲n-up & nice in disposition, & I'd
like to know you more
there's already something in which we're alike
music types we both prefer
are similar, right?"; she nods her bean in reply
he continues: "I could teach you to write
multisyllable rhymes, which is, besides
music liste[—]ning, what I get myself occupied
with I̲n my off time; I could gift you a bike
I mean, a pushbike, so, you & mE̲, we could ride
together, just like Slim & 5'9"
["write together"; Eminem & Royce da 5'9"]
[who have a bunch of rap collabs with each other]
and if you like some activity I'm
a stranger to
I'd bE̲ by your side
do I have chances to
meet you agA̲I̲n some next time?"
————————————————————————————————
she replies: "wow! handsome, truth
be told, the speech administered by
you has done some damage to
my inner equilibrium; I
will give my answer to
your query, but, like
you, now I feel like venting my mind"
"of course, I̲t's only right
if you too say what you think", - he replies
she asks him I̲f she is right
thinking that, till last nI̲ght spent with her
he's never had something li̲ke this before
clearly implying that that tI̲me's been his first
it feels wrong to him to lie to this girl, but replying to her
query directly ain't more comfo[—]rtable for
him; he gets out, like a crI̲me figure served
his time, with a reply that his per—sonality type's introvert
somewhat surprised bY̲ what she's heard
she notes: "in that nI̲ght club you sure
didn't seem like O̲ne, you seemed
quite co[ɑ]nfident"; "sorry if whA̲[ʌ]t I'm in—
—tending to say is a ******, sim.
to a bad trip, but my condU̲ct was in—
—fluenced by a supplement"
he replies, adding: "but you can be cA̲[ɑ]lm; I mean
in terms of indulging in
substance consumption, I'm no fiend
unlike a leader of a tough regime
that was just a O̲ne-time thing"; she respo[ɑ]nds to him:
"well, that's what matters the mO̲st, 'cause, as
you may recall our joint small disclosure last
night, we're for sticking to the sober track"
————————————————————————————————
she continues her go by add—
—ing: "now, I want you... to know: I've had
a magnificent night; I thI̲nk that's a kind
of thing we both needed"; the guy
nods, thinking: "I̲t's something I cA̲[ɛ]nnot deny"
she continues by noting to hI̲m that, despite
that scene in the night
club that he made
like that game where the MC̲ undermines
a corrupted *****'s reign
just 'cause... hE̲ didn't like
["Just Cause" videogame series]
the stuff the DJ
was playing, hE̲ doesn't strike
her as a ***** of a guy; she adds that she twigs what it's like
to be by oneself & that being a psy—
—chotherapist, as she unfolds herself
to him, her job's providing harmed souls with help
he thinks: "this can't be real", like cold in hell
then he says: "you're... a therapist?"; "right"
she quickly replies, adding: "you seem really surprised"
he says: "wE̲ll, doc, if I
were to guess wha[ʌ]t a girl with such a curb
appE̲A̲l does in life, I'd think it's some-thing that prescribes
being pleasing to eyes"
then he adds: "speaking of whI̲ch, these remind
me of a smile: you've got this green in your eyes"
["grin"]
as she gives him a slight
smile, she thinks in her mind:
"is he really so sweet, or hE̲ simply tries
to increase his odds wI̲th me?"; "alright"
the gal breaks the silence
being 'bout to say something else, but the guy
manages to outpace her timing
saying: "since you're a psy—
—chotherapist, guess it won't hurt if I say that I̲ am
somewhat sick & even evil inside
but to you, I'm a null danger, darling
so stay composed, like a
tune"; she giggles, then says: "you're droll, now ta
your question posed prior: yes, I'm bone down ta
meet with you again"; she gives her phone number
to him, then it hits her: "I still don't know how ta
call him"; she asks: "by the way
you've go[ɑ]t a name?"; he replies: "mine is Blake
and yours?"; she replies: "Lucille"
with a joke on his mind, he says:
"well, that pretty much explains why you babe
are so mind-blowing"; stumped, she says:
"sorry, but I don't think I grasp
what you mean by that"; he says: "the Negan's bat"
after which she gives a gentle laugh
[the scene where Negan gets the Glen's brains [mind] blown out with his bat called "Lucille"]
then says: "I'd jest why
I feel like HA̲rley Quin, but I think
that, by this time
you've already cO̲[ɑ]ttoned on wha[ʌ]t I mean"
he says: "an adorable therapist
who's met a sort of odd E̲gg who seems
to be a joker"; afrE̲sh, she gives
him a slight smile; "well, dolcezza, it's
["dolcezza" (Italian) - "honey"/"sweetheart"]
been nice to have a chat
with you", - she starts her response, whereafter adds:
"A̲lthough, A̲s I have
said prior, I need to go"; "wA̲I̲t just a bit"
he says, - "I'll call a taxi cab"
"by the wA̲Y̲, it's on me"
he adds while he grabs some cash
then hands it to her like: "as a sign of favor, no re—
—jections accepted"; she replies: "um, thA̲[ɛ]nks, it's so sweet
of you, much appreciated; feel free
to hit me up later so we
could pick time & location to meet
the next time"; both exchA̲nge "byes" with each
other, then, taking into consideration that he's
awful at osculating, she gives
him one aimed for his cheek; a blush-making thing hits
his mind, saying he'll need
her to provide him some training in this
kind of stuff; as she walks away, he can't help but gaze at this chick