I gaze into my crystal ball, discern amidst the haze
A world so far removed from that of now, it would amaze,
Where catapulting incidents collide like billiard *****
And sense defies belief as renaissance makes the calls.

Blueprints fresh from Internet supply the suitcase blast
Where the terrorist’s, simultaneously, ignite in cities cast
From Moscow to New York, Beijing to Berlin
Gay Paree to London town then way out east again,
Budapest, Jerusalem Calcutta burning all
And Tokyo is levelled in a ghastly nuclear pall.

Kneejerk reaction triggers contrails in the blue
Crisscrossing all the continents obliterating through
An overkill so vicious that in seconds it is past
And the living cling in horror, bearing witness… aghast.

Restraints are erased as the opportunists dash
Flotillas from the Spratleys sprint to occupy and cash
In on the minerals, oil and potential food supplies
Of uncontaminated nations found beneath Pacific skies.
Hindi, Jew and Muslim settle scores bereft with years
Of resentment accrued in a flood of blood and tears.

A sudden realisation of immensity of loss
Curtails the destruction in retrenchment across
The habitable outposts, the dearth of supply
And the daunting prospects of a nuclear winter sky.
Global collapse of all electronic gear
No power, no phones, and no cars now…for years.
Electromagnetic impulse put paid to all that
And the day is as dark as the cold night is black.



And here all we sit, in the here and the now
On the verge of catastrophes’ teetering tower,
With a fools pudgy finger just inches above
The nuclear button…and all that we love.
……You fear the insanity, sense the insane
Knowing that people like this are holding the reign?
Knowing that volatility strikes
Like the shot of a gun and the ****** of a knife.

I don’t have the answers to hand
But someone out there, knows how…and can.
The sands of time are running thin

URGENTLY needed a LEADER...to WIN!

M.
Planet Earth
6 March 2019

these western leftist,
make us former commies...
look... really really
******* bad...

        my grandfather,
who was abandoned by his
father, spewed by the lies
of his father's brother,
found some stability
in the communist party...

sometimes did jury duty...
the communist party
gave him a house... etc. etc.,
but this, "thing" in the west?
the dissonance conundrum
of creating a collective hive?

it doesn't, and it will never work...
i already said this,
but i'll say it again...
communism does work...
but in only one instance...
post-war countries,
esp. given the plight of
Syria...
                
           it's a transitory period...
so the Syrian baker
can trust the ******* Syrian
taxi cab driver, once again...
communism is not a failure
in that it's applied as
a fail-safe concept,
a rebuilding mechanism,
  
like Poland... 1945...
through to circa 1990...
    it worked...
  **** it worked...
  eastern Europe didn't
receive funds from the American
Marshall Plan...

but Sweden and Switzerland
did...
   i thought they were neutral
countries in the conflict?

communism is a failure if its not
considered a recovery economy,
or rather:
    there's no or other at this point...

in post-war scenarios,
it's the only egalitarianism that works
in the short-end...
this is not English style of
egalitarian idealism...
   (a term i borrow from German
idealism of Kant)...
            no... the English don't know
that their egalitarian idealism
doesn't work...
it's too soft...
the war was harsh...
you're not going to rebuild
the same civic plateau with capitalism,
of a country that was either:
invaded by a foreign power,
or imploded into chaos via
a breach of ethnic-civility...

you can't rebuild Syria with
foreign intervention...
communism is far from a failure
of ideology...
   it was always supposed
to instigate a transitional
period, a post-scriptum...
   a communism can exist,
successfully, for... roughly 50 years...
once the tragedy passes...

and then the free markets can
take over, capitalism can have its
"stage fright", or rather its
wild west...
            but not before the circa 50
years are over...
  a Syrian baker,
   must begin a civil dialectic with
a Syrian taxi driver...
no amount of foreign intervention
will solve the problem...

it's not like you can reuse
the rubble to rebuild the same houses...
sure... the darkest hour
in Poland under communism was
when martial law (stan wojenny)
was implemented by
Wojciech Jaruzelski
(Roy Orbison, no, really,
Roy Orbison)...
food-stamps, long queues at supermarkets
rationing... only white vinegar on
the shelves of supermarkets...
the whole presupposition of war
against the Soviets,
  counter measures to
      avoid the instances of
the Hungarian / Czechoslovakian
occupation / suppression...
   the Parisian spirit of '68...
every time i look into your loving eyes,
one look, from you,
  i drift... away!
    i pray, that you, are here, to stay!
anything you want, you got it...
anything you need, you got it...
anything at all, you got it...
   bay.................................. be!

western Europe received pittance
pay-checks from H'america...
eastern Europe received the hard graft of
communism...
             and it worked...
because it was supposed to work
for the 50 or so years that it did work...
when it stopped working...
my home town lost roughly 20K
   metalwork jobs...
  the metalwork factory was scrapped,
cut up, sold to foreign investors...
Celsa? i believe that's a Spanish company...

some people grew old, retired,
some went on the dole,
some became homeless,
some migrated to other parts of the country,
otherwise took the bold route
and emigrated to other parts of
Europe and the world...
a town dies, the people disperse
if in a dispersing worthy age...

     but i turn on the tube...
and listen to all these leftist lunatics,
and i'm like...          what?!
communism works,
   it works, in exceptional circumstances,
and like i said, before an equal
footing competition market resurfaces,
you're getting ****...
             this is not to suggest that
communism is at odds with capitalism...
apparently... it never was!

         but... you can't rebuild
Syria with capitalism...
  first you have to return to a commonly
shared civility, a counter to what
already exists in the English egalitarian idealism...
best represented as:

a 200m race at the Olympics...
all the competitors walk an equal
pace for 100m...
        and the next 100m?
they do their sprint, they compete!
but not until communism creates
a basis for a mutual trust of civility
between a Syrian baker,
and a Syrian taxi driver...

      capitalism and outright
competition will never solve the problem...
because outright competition
creates nothing more than
an dystopian: post-apocalyptic
mad max: fury road endless cycle of
recurring opportunists...

scavengers...
                      it works... in periods of
roughly 50 years...
what... and capitalism isn't prone
to its own timescales of economic crashes?!
see...
             even capitalism has hiccups...
but like i said:
    communism works...
for time periods, post-scriptum of
the damaging events...
                        under exceptional circumstances
of it being necessarily implemented...
like world war II... the Syrian civil war;
and only then!

****... my grandfather and all the other
school children, actually cried
when news hit the country about Stalin's death...
i have access to an actual ****** source,
what do you have?
  a target of ridicule,
        donning a che guevara t-shirt
who still hasn't rid himself of acne?

It starts with a sensation of feeling it can't be real
This pain, this reality it all seems so fake
Living in turmoil yet being awake
We've created a fictional story for what we see
Lies have become "real" the virtual stains reality
Yet we are living in the creative dump
Hilary Clinton and Donald trump
Opportunists in this world of lies
The poet cries
But truth is hated more than the lies we perceive
and believe cause their sugar makes the medicine go down
No need to frown, because life is just for individuals like you
We all different but not one of us has a clue
Of what's going on
Corporations rule the media so what's wrong?
Censorship breaks even the strongest of minds
Leaves us cold but does anyone mind?
They feed us primal fears
While we our fed TV box sets of lives we want to lead
While soldiers bleed in wars we keep fighting
Just because of oil sightings
It's all bit pointless as the golden age of austerity kicks in
And the rich become fat eating the poor
and misery is a acquaintance who is in your house though you didn't answer the door
It's all normal check your email and censor your political correctness
It's all ******* tell yourself it won't mean a thing
Your King or queen of nothing
and there is no God heaven was a bluff
It's not real it's tough
Because we could have made it heaven on earth
But fantasy was more beguiling
As we watch game of thrones we are smiling.

Young or old, male or female,
Dear, make yourself easy but tough,
Be a bridge to people's destinations but only if it doesn't cut out a part of you, it's called helping. Helping doesn't care whether your 'walk on' is to stay or pay. Doesn't cut out opportunists from real. Easy, if you can hold. Better if you can sustain in it, but help out regardless.

I can't tell if any fleas
Have smaller fleas upon them;
But I can feel that on these fleas
Are giant jaws; and toothsome.

These fleas are opportunists, sure,
They hop from leg, to arm, to floor;
Each leaves behind a bit of gore:
There's nothing smaller I abhor.

They're nearly invisible and yet
Upon me I can feel them set;
And tear out great big chunks of- Nyet!
A bigger fiend, I've never met.

Subtly hacking its social fabric
To dismantle ancient Ethiopia
Its enemies and opportunists
Come up with this and that trick
That aims at dislodging
Every brick....
Time goes on tick,tick,tick
The problem reaches on its peak
Many harbor fear
They may lose
Their country Ethiopia
They hold dear
But always
When it is left with
A declared last chance
Displays Ethiopia resilience.
"Are you not like
The children of the Ethiopians to me,
Children of Israel? "
God-referred land
Stirs out from
Uncharted water
To remain grand
Though self- seeker dissidents
And only-me
Historic enemies
Fail that to understand.

The morning ***
Before head
back to work
This Jay Oh Bee
B is for Business / Bull Dooky

"It's just Bid ness"

No Justice
The menial  
Minimum wage / Slave to NEED
Gotta have purchase
Gotta buy to eat
Nothing comes for free

Except / accept

That moment
The whole world fears...
DEATH.
We sware to
Vanity
A Slave  - yes Sam, I am
I tell you this,
what I saw, we done-did seen...

White Grey hound buses
Parking in our Plaza
Spilling out the Orient,
          Snapping pictures with Samsungs
While I did smoke
An Ultralight One-Hundred
          I got the sense,
That they were surveying the area
Pointing forefingers painting
Tree
Miming
Expansion
GPS  e s p
Architects of
Pleased with themselves
The language of enigma
Listen
To their chatter
            chinking
Foreigners they used to be

Historical predictions now

What landscapes will look like
When remodeled
(...misguided projectiles....)

A bigger Little Korea Town

Over run...

It's the feeling
That must be panic
It's the feeling
Of being surrounded
By enemy foe
By animal control
Their tranqs. Nets & leashes,
Stunners at the ready...

Pzzt and sshhzzz....
Static mind games
Phones smarter than us,
Of course

We all FaceTime with touch screens
I'm no different,
Press Menu, the date and time
                       It's only 5 minutes 'til...
Light another ***
Before I get started ...

Here, my J.o.b. Is being...
The only employee "who a-speak a-only
English"
"Only a-one language"
Hehehe *** emoji!

Less than zilch.
Became
Like a spy spying secretly
Inside his own
Country / nation / tribe
Of the people, all
men are creating
Our own inequalities...

Done-did see, oh say so

We'll get - done got toked
Peace pipes, petrol
and the joke goes
"There's this bus, and them opportunists...
Blueprints, dispensaries,
The Imminent war..."

(Even the church has history
With puffs
            Of black and white
Rising
             Smoke / gag reflexes /
The Coughing it up)

Chang Cha-Ching!
Money.

Smoke brakes over
Gets back
To the factory
Line
Chain Gang am/way

Cracking whips on backs of us
Of those who still worship
The lamb...  Yes I am
To Uncle Sam :
In the way, another obstacle

In the way of progress
Prehistoric pedestrian painted in the landscape
Sooner pushing
Out of the way

For supermarket boulevard malls
Catering from cowering from defeat
Mean streaks
Bomb shells
Mad money and a piece
       "Glocks, 45colts, semi automatics
        *******' Guns
For the **** storm hustle...!"

Every conversation started
Shaft all up in your grill
Every question an appeal
Digging
For information is power
Axing who you be?

I works at the grocers
In the ****** area part of town
Across the ways from the dispensary
(**** Chung winks at chuck wagons)
Says I gets discounts
With my marijuana card,
Prescription coupon
******

A regular
Opportunist.

Yelp! Hollah!

we Gots what you really need
       It's only business
Don't take it personal
Minions of E.T

But Still... there is no justice....

We Prey on the Lambs
And tell ourselves to
Doubt slowly
             "Just you wait / they'll see...
Dawn will break"
Ever
Clear of smoke, no doubt

The open minds, eyes,
Done did and able to see...
The invasion
Gots
Intellectual property

Karma will be a *****
On dinosaur bones
In the crude that burns the sky
And the smoke
Breaking
Our bad /

bubble...

FIN.life.
Choke.

i guess life is a crossing
and people keep passing

the lord made me black and white
with a light on either side

people keep passing, hippidy hop
they keep crossing, hippidy hop
and thats what happens on me all day long

people keep passing, hippidy hop
they keep crossing, hippidy hop
and then the cars come along

there are those who wait for the green man to show
the mom tells her kids 'thats only when you should go'

There are those who don't think a lot
'You could have died', 'it was worth a shot'

There are those who play in and out
Opportunists trying to move about

There are those who just have all the time
Testing nerves, begging the wheels to crime

people keep passing, hippidy hop
they keep crossing, hippidy hop
and thats what happens on me all day long

people keep passing, hippidy hop
they keep crossing, hippidy hop
and then the cars come along

people keep passing, hippidy hop
they keep crossing, hippidy hop
and thats what happens on me all day long

a couple of words to convey ta
scurvy dictators
being, with their regimes, dirt on the face of
civilization; lyrics that may be referred to as hate speech
sorry, sans names since
you, hinderlings, tend to get sore 'kin/sim. to nates
of someone earned a good lacing (butthurt)
fO̲r misbehaving (just like y'all)
hopefully, y'all will end up burning in flames of
eternal damnation
for every singular person paraded
civilly through streets in support of good changes
and been delivered brute force in repayment
prisoners tortured, false statements
a sort of a lake of
disinformation, wars, liquidations
of those subverting a heinous
course undertaken
of course, fabrications
fO̲r legal cases (and elections, of course)
and nowadays, you've got Y̲O̲U̲r pesky agents
working on breaking
the web like Bourne which is Jason (Webb, David)
here come my warm salutations
to that stupid web regulator
that serves the dang Craymlin (got it?)
like your walking 𝓉ℴ𝒶𝓁ℯ𝓉ℯ brush, take a
[another sobriquet fitting the rhyme scheme: "toilet predator"]
hike; Y̲O̲U̲r limitations
hitting media being insubmissive ta
the sick regime which ya
sustain by dint of digital
censorship, to individuals
with views being similar
to mine, are like pork to unwave[–]ring
[the word's supposed to be read/pronounced as "unweyvring"]
Muslims; in other words, we evade 'em
(what are you gonna do about it?)
(back to dictators)
you're, like a vessel transporting blood, vain &
like someone implementing a mercy ask, craven
[vein; craving]
you're worthless like an ****** absorbed medication
to you procured a gunshot gorge perforation
as you may've gathered, as if you were **** plantation
employees, you, opportunists, sure irritate me
minus tooled up guys in uniforms & you're Swayze
some of those going politicians or power-wielders
are already bY̲ then vile people?
[Biden]
not the type to think so
that's humankind's horrible nature
highly evolved, still beasts, though
so Earth's, in a way, a
huge lair; got a shade sidetracked
like a train, my bad
I'ma explain, like that
Malaysian Boeing Ukraine skies'd had (ex-plane)
[had had]
before it got razed 'kin/sim.
to the outrage of folks storming a place which
a c#cks#cking usurper is based in
[raised]
the earlier stated
"BIFOED"; once you are no more animated
like a cartoon paused, the verdict is plain 'kin/sim.
to a suit that is mourning-related
a torrid vacation, metaphorically saying
yet no point in packing Y̲O̲U̲r freaking raiment
since Y̲O̲U̲r destination's
[sins]
nothing short of pure Hades (if there is)
though (unlike some of you) I'm irreligious, but
it doesn't mean I'm cold to medieval stuff
like a hedonistic brush
with a chick replete with lust
in this realm, there can be a really hot
time for you; akin to witches stuck
to those stakes, you can wi[ɪ]nd up lit as f#ck
like after a cig. with **** you are
in the garden of the post-en–
–lightenment time going
[thyme]
which, in fact, is the reason the
Earth territory's in need of getting rid of ya

to the Armenian, a dr Grair Magakian, well, Stalin out of Georgia, ****** out of Austria, a genesis has to have fertile ******* beginnings - try giving a ******* an ****** with her heaving the words: only the second time it's happened to me...a bit clumsy, like god with the revision of earth post-lizard having perfected Mars the first time round; oh hell it was habitable back then, you could even write an obituary, i don't know why we're looking for life on it, it's atmospherically dead, although retaining the sphere... back when life on earth was impossible life flourished on Mars... takes you out of Iowa or Ohio, doesn't it? a boxed below-the-belt (funny how inverted commas disappear when the hyphen is utilised) punch? yes, Vietnam is one of the stars, but drawing with the word champions isn't that bad, the ******* Ajax striker Milik could have two! talk of cross-pollination, german passports here and there, life abroad while Margaret Thatcher shouted boo! and Gierek wrote his autobiography considering the Silesian coal-miners as saints.*

i had an epiphany today, i took to the outer-suburban streets
without headphones, i know, we're gang-***** by
mechanised sounds, aeroplanes, digging, toilet flushing,
refrigerator static, electricity no longer a bolt of Zeus'
power - who's the Prometheus in that story?
horsepower Audi racers, you name it, no wonder the rebellion
with headphones on... i took them off today,
suddenly there was much more scented activity,
i must have passed the comet of Anise at some point,
variations of sweet smells, foxes like brute beggars
shuffling through garbage, opportunists -
the scents of June, ****, **** me, it was gorge-worthy-beau,
so much in the air... but then again having censored my
ears with songs i came across the crass mankind...
a woman was drumming a door to non-existence
while her daughter locked her outside the house,
complaints versed with words 'it's my house too!
it's my house too! you little ****, open the ******* door!'
at a petrol station a whitey all cool with a blonde *****
gunning down the station attendant with the words:
'look at your face... look at it... you look like a *******...
yep, you look like a ******* mate, look at you,
an elephant's **** just ****** your face in
and you came out with a ***** protruding from your
forehead!'
ain't it lovely, there's me having a ******* epiphany about
life in general, sniffing out June's nocturnal flowers
opening up like a wet **** Venus, talking about:
mm, life... no meaning, too many words involved...
but try to capture the vagueness of it all, well, starry starry night...
don mclean's tribute to van gogh - without the h
von Gag - half german half pervert Cockney -
oh yeah, and to boot, on hedgehog watch, the population
in decline, spotted one today on Beauly Way
(just off Eastern Avenue)... before
the entrance to Rise Park... hey, there's a David Attenborough
in me after all.

By: Cedric McClester

I know what it is we saw
On the streets of Baltimore
Everything we should abhor
Burning, looting and much more
As our history has shown
Once contentious seed are sown
Violence that we can’t condone
Begins when the first stone is thrown

Once we loose the savage beast
And opportunists start to fleece
Their local businesses decrease
And there’s no justice or no peace
Deprivation is the aftermath
Once people choose a violent path
For some it’s fun and so they laugh
But they don’t know much about math

Whole communities disappear
As rioters stand around and cheer
Once the smoke has a chance to clear
We find it’s worst than we had feared
What began as an  expression of pain
Rapidly denigrated before it changed
Which often happens when police are estranged
From communities they police when there’s no exchange

Violence never is the answer
Cos it can metastasize like a cancer
It never was an agenda advancer
Nor a valid argument enhancer
So let’s not try to pretend
That there can be any other end
Nor a position that we can defend
Can I surmise we comprehend?


(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.

The question is asked again and again,
Where do we come from? Who are we?
All throughout life men and women great
And foolish have attempted to explain this,
"In a moment all will be explained,"
"If you pay more money you will be cleansed,"
"Not worshipping is the realm of the insane,"
"With these soft spoken incantations you will mend,"
So where do we come from? What is all this?
From rushing water, breath of air, no need for
Recognition, it's all miles away in some deserted
Forest, to be left for later generations to forget,
Let this be an answer, why are we here? I shall
Obtain eternal life if I just hold this vile
Closer to my heart, a work of vain art,
This isn't life, this is the illusion of life,
The answer nestled in a small cave,
The birth of a newborn bird, a ripple in a pond
From a rock that fell during an earthquake,
A vague reflection of a deer in it's surface gleam,
All of this and more, the darkness of night,
Cloaking terrors real or imagined, what is this?
Maybe one day we will know? This is how fools
Are born, clinging to this or that, a drop of water
From a vile, an answer from a simple written text
That proves it's all happened thus far. This is why
Fools are born of this, opportunists, blinded by dust,
The great way of those who gather to take advantage,
This is where the greatest numbers of fools gather.
Far away, the beautiful forest, I may not know what brought
This all to life, but I do know what is worth saving
And what only fools shall save for themselves...

The clouds were torn asunder
And a multitude of faces raised
And frozen still, the masses gazed
Unblinking eyes were wide and glazed
Legs were weak and wills were lame
And all upon the day they came

The glowing Discs held station
And cars collided in the street
As thousands took to fleeing feet
In terror of the silent fleet
The rich and poor were just the same
And all upon the day they came

The crowds were quickly scattered
Yet signals grew and camps were made
And opportunists plied their trade
As shadows moved, possessions strayed
Looted shops gave way to flame
And all upon the day they came

The tension slowly rising
Anxiety and trepidation
Causing many consternation
Fear fuelling confrontation
Paranoia played its game
And all upon the day they game

The firelights cascaded
The cities blanketed in grey
With human nature on display
As violence had won the day
With no one but ourselves to blame
And all upon the day they came

They watched us with ill humour
With minds as calm as silicone
They saw each wound and broken bone
Each fire lit and bottle thrown
And horrified at human shame
They left upon the day they came

You are a rocket straight to destruction in the midst of the opportunists you rise and fall to see the newspapers even if you think them the most horrifying aspect of pieces of meat you start to revolt, the **** will end up flying like a circus without turns and faults, magical like the curtains of my bed turning the atmosphere into a dragon mystery lake for children to play the forest and the knick knacks of their desires, but lo! Here comes the banker and the financier all galloping on tamed mechanical horses advancing with Colgate smiles disappearing your face and stealing your persona and your trousers made from cotton, synthetic cotton absurd cotton love cotton fear cotton waiting for you at the train station taken away to Europe where models eat a turnip and a peanut in your face to ***** lace and pepper dine in the shape of a paper centaur coming to avenge with his wooden sword the mess of intelligence and progress, he has waged war many times over, he lost, he disappeared in the shape of a blender for misunderstood poets and hoes of freedom talking about moving to the right direction assuming you will never rise up like a fountain in Rome and jalapa, but here, you and me never talking anymore in front of garbage smelling to the top of the Latin American craps with an antenna submitting your insides to the cops and the lawyers, credit to the banks for terror and the hand that wipes his forehead, you and only me can replace V with a string of fire and music to tremble a few notes into the ears of this country never to again see mommy or daddy, neverness is your dream but as I said you and I are not talking anymore, give me a line, a cane, a flame, a candle for company, cause if you are there and I here then poetry can move as a lightning rod on an airplane crushing giants with the swift ****** of business class, yes you and I will do a match in the toilette, you read and I spit on the floor to make it more comfortable will invite a few *******, two dry and a few (three) filled with milk and cottage cheese for the magazine model to strangle the last temptation on earth. Mooove on
Darling, death comes our way in the middle of the mass as the greasy mullet under the gutters, yes be content with all that money saved up for a better time, to spend on gas bills and rental hair, hands and hearts. It is coming silently.
The new music-

Can you do me a favor?
can you kindly stop talking to me
Your rude and inappropriate comments need to stop
im tired of allowing you to get away with the way you talk down to me
simply because i feel sorry for you
You know, being that you’re a new father and all
i can only imagine what its like for you at home
Your wife’s giving all her attention to the baby
the sleepless nights
no recognition for your hard work
it must feel like you’ve lost your sense of control in your own home
and what better way to regain that power than to belittle those with a lesser ranking than you
and even more so, those that you feel like you can get away with talking to, like the way you do to me.
i remember one of the first times you said something to me.
I was new to the department, and things weren’t exactly in my favor
considering i was filling a mans shoes while he was away on vacation.
A strong, hard working man who knows the ins and outs of being a stocker.
Hell, if he really wanted to i wouldn’t doubt his ability to re stock the entire department by himself
This wasn’t an equal opportunists position. I physically did not have the strength to meet the demands that this position so heavily weighed on every employee.
No wonder they place all the females in clothing department, its the lightest department by weight of merchandize. and who better to give the tedious workings of folding clothes to than someone who already bears the responsibility to day in and day out inside their own home.

So, here you come along, and rather than helping me to play catch up while i build the  physical strength to keep up and critique the skills that are required to make my work presentable and worth noticing, you continued to put me down for being the weakest link.
I brushed it off
Directed my frustration towards simply just doing a better job than the day before.
One day at a time, id tell myself. Things will get easier.  
I can go back to that same position today and clearly note the improvements that I’ve surpassed within my own expectations. If we are to be fair, i owe in part, some of that success to my ability to translate your snooty comments into something pro active and constructive.
If i had just spoken up then, maybe it wouldn’t have gotten as far as its gotten today.
Maybe
just maybe,
if i had the courage to stand up for all of the things that you represent. All the things that reminds me of a dark past of being taking advantage of without the power or consciousness to say otherwise.
Maybe -
just maybe ..
but just like that night that still strikes me into paralysis, i become stiffened as your words take advantage of me, only this time i’m awake to feel every jab. Just like that night, those around me are misguided by your ability to a likable person. They don’t question who you are and what you're capable of, because how could you? You are a hard working manager, you make people laugh, and you clearly have a way with your words. Imagine if this had been 2008, when i was still deeply broken and unable to rationalize between what is true, and what you want me to believe is true. Imagine, if i had not yet invested so many years into growing my self worth, my self esteem. Unable to look at myself in the mirror and realize that i have so much to live for and that the exact person that i am today is exactly enough to be whoever i want to be.
I would already be dead.
My soul would have suffocated and be rotting away inside of me.
I would be a walking zombie. Any self esteem would have been re programed into self doubt and hatred towards myself for not being liked by someone who should be encouraging me to be better.
But im not that person.
Unfortunately, you only get ***** once.
After that it's just an attack on the body you once thought was you.
I am no longer this body, and your words cannot hurt the foundation that I’ve constructed, literally, from the ground up.
I am much more than that. I am everything that you fail to see because you’re so busy being demoralized by your own darkness that feeds your mind into thinking that you’re not good enough. It spills out of you and spreads like a disease to others that don’t have the proper vaccinations to resist it. Just know, that you’ll fall way before i even begin to feel weak. You’ll slowly begin to cave in, and your walls will crush you to the bottom.
To the
cold
hard
rock bottom.
And then,
only then -
you can come talk to me.

Long I remember
When alone I’d run
To the sea side shores
For sandy mud-pun walks
On where waves lengths strength
Stretched and end reached
And never passed
And on cliffs patched
Where nests all sea birds
Was a shamble of noises
And a squabble of fights

Some were stealing from others
Others were killing others
Many were murdering in angers
Little were busy battling hungers
Rest were roosting and resting  
Grooving and grooming

Sporadically, a Tern would call
Kwi! Kwi! Kwi-kwiii!
He would gather his feathers
And fully beautifully display
Their clean preened length
Before her maternal mate
To strengthen their eternal fate
And she would appreciate
With gestures affectionate
Her lover’s majestic exhibit

A pair of Puffins pretty would come-Penguins and Magpies black-white coats
Rainbow beaks, puffed cheeks and orange webbed-feet beautiful creatures
Innocent as ever, active as always with mouthfuls of sea foods-fishes
Irregular, her wobbling gait weighed down by her food and hasty walks home-
Worried hurry to luckily escape being bullied and robbed his foetuses’ foods
Along the long ways home full of lethal ruthless poachers and predators:
Feral opportunists and scavengers lurking near paths to their nests
Pitiful I’d feel at how unfair nature is to these hardworking birds
And helpless how they would surrender their hard-earned meals

With Hornbills’-heavy headed huge beak, Ducks’-webbed feet
Fowls’-heavy flying body and an imbalanced Penguins’ wobbling walks
She can’t match the Petrels and Ravens merciless ruthlessness
The Gulls’, and Kittiwakes’-scissor sharp beaks
The Hawks and Ospreys lethal hooked beaks
The Gannets’ and Kites cheetahs’-top speeds
Or the sitting Sea-Steller swift lift of their wings strength  
Piteously he surrenders his hard worked worth meals
And risks another long journey back to survive

A Gull would run, chasing the receding waves
Fast pick a pebble-like coloured sea shell crustaceans
Then poke his long hooked-edge beak
To peep and see if there was anything worth to peak
Of the wavy tides hustles and the sea-side buzzing bustles
The patience of waiting, of watching and of walking
Before the stealth Stilts, their competitor strides
And another giant wave of waves roars and come calling
And they wiggle as they walk and run to escape his sad slaps on sands

The Walrus and the Otters
The Sea-Lions and the Cormorants
Would all nest to rest invest and reinvests
On their furs and feathers fond interests
The Seals and their pretty Pups all would leisure
In colonies on wet large rocks far and away
From washing-waves and terrible-tides and sea-sands
And their Bellow and low and moo like loud grumbles
The irregular moo-mee! Dins of the fish markets rumbles
Would fill and drown the sea-side sounds
Mother besides kids-compassionate
Protecting its investigative innocence
From the cruel colony crushing crashes

Then there would come the tranquility of twilight
The much awaited time for all sea-lovers and watchers
The last of coastal day’s romantic rushes-lovers large leaving to burn their passions
A time when lovers would leave their cottages comforts hand-in-hand: arm-in-arm
To cuddle and cradle and canoodle-to freely display their amorous love
In the sands and mud’s pads, last before the sun bids them another goodbye
The mother of all coastal auburn burn magnificence-the setting sun
The colours of the coastlines as the sun burns touched the ocean’s horizons
It so an enthralling, captivating sight of the sun and the sea and the scenic serenity

The nights quiet with billions lights of signaling stars
and the midnight’s silent with the gleaning moons
These are the nights of the most patient, passionate, romantic passengers-the night watchers
Beautiful! Munificent! Glamorous! Awesome! Splendid! Spectacular!
I’d use all the adjectives there is to describe the alluring scenery of the moments  
So precious-so peaceful to the mind, to the soul and to the heart-a holistic healing
The captured memories of the stars studded nights and the magnificent moonlit midnights
Alone in the nights with just the silences of the soothing breezes on the palms fronds-restful!

© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.

Take me back to yesterday
When holiness ******* prosperity
When churches won souls
Not the craze for numbers and money

Take me back to yesterday
When we taught moral instructions
Where teachers were models
Not paedophiles and opportunists
How I so miss yesterday!

Take me back to yesterday
When girls covered up
Knelt to greet Elders
Fetched from the stream
Where *** before marriage was a taboo

Today, celebrities project immoralities
Singers praise corrupt persons
Officers collect bribes
Contracts and admission are for highest bidders
Please take me to yesterday

Take me back to yesterday
When men married women
Women married men
Where we raised respectable boys and girls
Not sadomasochists and sadists

Take me back to yesterday
Where politicians served us
We looked up to them
Today, the table is turned
But from the beginning;
It was not so

Take me back to yesterday
Where we rubbed organic
You call it Coconut oil
I call it "Adi Agbon"
Where we wore "Shuku" in all shades
And adorned in beautiful beads

I miss yesterday
Hence my poetic pen drips
If you miss yesterday
Come ride with me
Let's go back to yesterday
That we may better our tomorrow

I understand that you're working ******* your karma;
that you're toiling toward keeping that feather weighing more than your heart.
I get that you somehow get off on going above and beyond what other people expect of you after you've agreed to do something for them.
(Though you should know, that because you do it every time, they always expect you to.)
I can clearly see that you've been collecting good deeds in order to redeem them at the end of this thing for a better seat to whatever the hell it is that you think is going to happen;
that you treat each one as an eon shaved off of the wait time you'll have to spend in the line to get into heaven.
No really, I get it.
It's your thing, your MO; your shtick.
But me personally,
I've got better things to do than bend over backwards for opportunists.

Currently thinking of currency
What the concept means
A delegation of natural resources
Represented by variable things
And the credit lines in between
The debts and interest
The investments
Printed on cotton paper
Begotten from vapor
Minted and accounted
I can't make cents of dollar cents and dimes
Adorned with with deceased Presidents
Reminiscent of a simpler time
When we enslaved without the illusion of a living wage
When only the rich were educated
In institutions segrated from the working classes
The huddled masses
The breeders of poverty squished by sovereignty
Gasping for the thin air that brought them there
Hungry and bare
I dont think anything can change the hell
That came with the idea to buy and sell
We fell victim to the whims of the opportunists who compete to capitalize completely on the gifts given freely since birth by beautiful mother earth
Gifts that once processed are never given back in full.
Only to be borrowed and used as tool.
We humans beings are but fools being used and using tools that we don't need
To consume with greed as it consumes us
And we swirl into the cosmic dust of nothingness that created us and destroyed us just as we did to it. Money ain't ****. It was a joke, laugh *****. But our guns will oxidize and rust, all that will be left is our trust in the notion that gold will save us all,
Our belief the government can bequeath security the same way a man can present a diamond of perfect purity with the proposal of loyal betrothal. This illusion that all is right at with our present plight is something I detest but I will not fight.
To fight is to give in, to the illusion we live in. I cant accept this reality with altruism, I reject that we are secure, I deject the institution I have been subjected to endure since birth. I am not of your shared delusions
I am of the earth. My freedom is my kindness to make not my life that you may take.

Let us now ****  famous men
for their low morals and cruel cunning.
This witch hunt is different from all the rest;
now the witches hunt and the men go running.

From out  of the woodwork the women come;
victims, opportunists or jilted lovers?
Forty or fifty years have passed.
Their denouncers are mostly young grandmothers.

Now Garrison Keillor has joined the ranks
of venial men obsessed by lust.
He has been banished from Lake Woebegone
Where the women are Strong, the children are bright-
and the men look no better than any of us.

Love is a sea which can not be understood from surface
Its depth and its inner treasures including pearls to measure
The green water is living but takes life with an embrace
But no one can easily understand its happiness and pleasure

Heart is deep like sea and its depth carries very many goals
Soul is like a mirror which goes deep to understand truth
Body has its own attraction for glowing cheeks with black moles
Eyes have their own domain to capture beauty to just sooth

The world drama is beyond human comprehension to express
Half truth and half falsehood is of no consequence to grade
We do not tell what is real hence we go side by side to depress
Opportunists have their own designs of barter and of trade

Col Muhammad Khalid khan
Copyright 2017 golden Glow

I think that most governments stink,
the odour of this one is the worst,

we are cursed by misfortune, opportunists and
like lunatics we jump from top hats to be
played
tricks on by magicians where terms and conditions
apply,
and
we just gaze in amazement
never questioning why
never wondering
how things were allowed to get
this far along.

By: Cedric McClester

Let’s not call ‘em protesters
If they’re burning and
They’re looting
Let’s not call them protester
If they’re breaking glass windows
And shooting
Let’s call them what they are
Just blatant opportunists

Let’s not call them protesters
Which is not to suggest
That it wouldn’t be proper to
Call them insurrectionists
Let’s not get confused
As to what it is we’re seeing
When we observe them
Throwing objects while they’re fleeing

Let’s not call them protesters
Even when the cause is just
Because those hooligans
Don’t represent any of us
Let’s not call ‘em protester
When they’re stoking public fears
Let’s call them what they are
Simply put provocateurs

Let’s not call ‘em protesters
When they disregard the law
Let’s not call them protesters
Who are openly declaring war
Against the established order
Just to even a score
Let’s not call ‘em protesters
We never did before








Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2020. All rights reserved.

Hobbit those characters who lived
within the realm
of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
as far removed as
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
upon squelched cusp of progressivism,
now most likely
experience bitterness at the autocracy
of Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

Impossible mission to believe
amidst audacity, atrocity, egocentricity,
ferocity, mendacity, rapacity, et cetera
former KGB intelligence officer currently
serving as President of Russia
total mortal kombat of Ukraine did conceive
author of these words doth grieve
needless wanton death and destruction
analogous to volcano that lays waste
to innocent lives indiscriminately
spews forth horror as fiery lava
belches forth instantaneously
devastating explosions heave
leveling great swaths landscape
Gaia retching liquid rock
rendering utter wasteland
entombed survivors cannot leave.

The older generation
most likely experienced taste of democracy
(or the closest approximation thereof)
as I (am American baby boomer)
felt wowed by revolutionary changes,
when Ronald Reagan
occupied the White House.

Permafrost of the cold war thawed
when Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev
(a Russian: born 2 March 1931)
ranked as salutary Soviet statesman.

As eighth leader of Soviet Union,
he rang successful posts as follows:
General Secretary of Communist Party
Soviet Union from 1985 until 1991.

He headed country of sprawling Soviet state
from 1988 until 1991
Chairman of Presidium of Supreme Soviet
from 1988 to 1989,
Chairman of Supreme Soviet from 1989 to 1990,
and President of Soviet Union from 1990 to 1991.

Gorbachev was born in Stavropol Krai
into a peasant Ukrainian–Russian family knoll high
in his teens, operated combine harvesters
on collective farms as strapping guy.

He graduated from Moscow State University
in 1955 with a degree in law.

While at university, he joined Communist Party,
and soon became jaw
burr walk key i.e. very active mouthpiece per se.
In 1970, his near flawless
dossier a boon asper getting appointed
First Party Secretary drawing
salary of Stavropol Regional Committee,
First Secretary as “Chaw”

Bach ca qua Supreme Soviet in 1974,
and appointed as member of Politburo in 1979.

Within three years after death of Soviet leader
Leonid Brezhnev, following brief "interregna"
of Andropov and Chernenko, Gorbachev
elected general secretary chief
by Politburo in 1985.

Before reaching said post,
his bona fides occasioned bill leaf
As top dog name-dropped
in Western newspapers
as a likely next leader and reef
furred as barrier to manage
younger generation at top level.

Gorbachev's policies of glasnost ("openness")
and perestroika ("restructuring") and
his reorientation of Soviet
strategic aims contributed
to end Cold War.

Under a rustling brand
new program, the role
of Communist Party in governing
the state was removed demand
did via the constitution,
which inadvertently led to crisis-level
political instability fanned
surge of regional nationalist
and anti-communist activism
culminating in dissolution hand
of Soviet Union. Gorbachev
later expressed regret
for failure to save USSR, Mother land
though he insisted his policies not failures,
but rather vitally necessary reforms, miss man
aged, sabotaged and exploited by opportunists.

He was awarded the Otto Hahn
Peace Medal in 1989,
the Nobel Peace Prize in 1990
and Harvey Prize in 1992, plus un-cease
sing honorary doctorates from various universities.

In September 2008, Gorbachev vis
a vis, and business oligarch Alexander Lebedev
announced formation of Independent
Democratic Party of Russia,
and in May 2009 Gorbachev
announced that launch meant
to be imminent.

This third attempt Gorbachev
sought to establish a political party, rent
asunder from disparate competitors started
Social Democratic Party of Russia in tent
toward legitimacy dated 2001,
and Union of Social Democrats
in 2007 voice of the people to vent.

usually it takes me about 300ml
of *****,
     to catch up to the sober people
talking vehemently about something...
namely: that the freedom
of speech is synonymous with
the need to breathe...
                          300ml of *****,
or, the perfect sunset,
in a small town, just shy off Masovia,
walking back through this tangling
streets, soaking up remnants
of what is to become of young
couples promenading in the park
and on the streets,  
lonely hearts club of two girls
spotting cookies on park benches...
skin heads meat heads
and the whole shabang..,
      300ml of ***** and i'm tickling
an: into it, nose dive, kumać...
    and if I had the gift of the polyglot
I wouldn't be writing about
a bilingual labyrinth...
                     more a custard clot
worth of utility,  commerce, rubick cube
through and through...
   cameleon crowd pleaser...
I still don't know how they manage
to talk so much,
    and by talking so much,
they fall into the pitfall akin
to trivia instead of knowledge,
memory erosion,
  pedagogy's useless rubrics...
                 how does it sounds:
freedom of speech comes with no authority...
but... cuff me and usher in
the blind woman's cameo:
  you have the, right, to remain silent...
the freedom of a hen is not
analogous with the wolf...
  contradictory, notably due
to the intra-species differentiation..,
looking into the intra-species
    integration...
politicians and lawyers have no bible
and no Koran adherence...
their sole holy scriot, the thesaurus
        is ultimatum "pax"...
I still have to paint my grandparents'
kitchen in the colour: lemon peel...
just shy of the neon zest...
    if only, epilepsy at a disco
when the strobe light comes on...
there's all that,
    I don't know, perhaps I sleep better
because I have inherited a continental
biology and living on the wet,
and dingy, and mushroom clout island...
the persistent damp uneases me...
300ml into the heterogenous
fizzling of anti-dialectics...
                             and, somehow,
2 months spent in a homogeneous society
is a breath of, ease...
      post-colonialism is a real
zeitgeist...
                  to have inherited
a past, considered a future
while struggling with the present...
is it possible that i've seen more
heterosexual couples walking
about a town of  60,000 people...
on a single Saturday evening....
kissing, holding hands,
                     in one evening...
than I saw in London,
throughout all the days of the week,
for a total of say, 7 years?
jealous? not exactly,
if instanced by one, example,
maybe...
            but when there are replicas?
I too anticipated Sienkiewicz's
krzyżacy to be more engaging...
          well... less of what it current is,
which doesn't mean i'll suddenly
abandoned the book and take to Proust...
but when something akin
to Münster happens...
   I go and sit by the river,
take two glugs of *****,
light a cigarette,  and pour the rest
of the bottle onto the earth...
if I haven't had invested 23 years
of my 31 years (and counting)
immersed in England and this,
tongue...
   given the continental climate,
and the hardly exhausting
homogenous narrative...
                     what the hell are we even
talking about?
     a tongue that has become
a body tied to four horses,
about to be pulled apart...
                              if only
those having inherited English
as a host language... retained
a bilingualism...
      could actually call english,
a lingua franca, a language of commerce,
of tourism...
                the natives would
have remained natives...
   as odd looking as Japanese retirees
globe trekking...
     lost in the big city like London...
but no...
              "forgot" the mother tongue,
suddenly you have the whole
language being hijacked
by a political Heimleich...
                     I use this language...
**** trying to identify with it...
next time i'll be ******* into the sacrament
of wine and adding Nutella to the bread...
the point being,
   a hammer and a nail...
      reciprocation, symbiosis -
the jolting reaction to biological cancer,
and botanical cancer,
perfected symbiosis....
no brain of a cancer, but a vector...
the bulges of mistletoe on trees...
      reiterated Kant:
     there is not Hegelian dialectic
of thesis and antithesis...
what there is, is the reinvention
of the master / slave dynamic...
towing other dissociative synonyms...
dichotomy, dynamic... morality...
   came the master, and the slave...
came the host... and the parasite...
luckily, on the periphery...
hyenas, condors, rats...
scavengers, or rather,  opportunists.

The exchange rate of proof in a social construct
life experience, debunked your weathered skin is defunct
if there's no photograph, show you could smile and laugh
release the anchor of today and just let before and after float away
be in the moment with all you have,
do what you never do, say what you wouldn't say

Need a lens on, focused, catch my dreams for replay
no net over the bed, sweat pooling around my head
foul smell of smoke and alcohol that's the way
what's a party if you aren't faded,
what's a diamond in the rough if their outlook isn't jaded?
There's no secrecy if there's no privacy,
on any given street move sideways, camera eyes all see
like it's New Year's Eve 1983

Hope for a flashier destruction
learned behavior and complacency
sleepwalking into a new era for humanity
influenced by popular opinions so easily
we can make the world the worst it can be
overnight, tomorrow is always a concept away from being realized
truth is elusive, lost in the pursuit gives visibility, target a nuisance
the truth is harder to believe than the fabricated fantasies
things we say, "They are behind it all" invented enemies
conspiracies, scapegoats to put the mind at ease
you feel better when you can visualize a problem
yell at the president, police, CEO's and companies
blame leaders and celebrities, other countries
nature and disasters, the economy and disease
fearfully, there's no correlation only opportunists and opportunities
who do not see people and lives and families
no, they see land, resources, money and properties
savage and decadent, sitting on civilized notions comfortably

Can you really say you were there if you weren't with a friend?
Can you say you had a good time if you can remember everything?
If you were up all night, ain't it time for this to end?
Who's watching? Who's caring? I put my clown shoes on and sing
Because I quit drinking, started smoking, stopped worrying so much
and I seem twofaced in how I spend my time from who I spend it with,
but I'm not beholden to any social contract; I'm a contradiction, give me my space and I'll be in touch.

Hobbit those characters who lived
within the realm
of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien
as far removed as
Union of Soviet Socialist Republics
upon squelched cusp of progressivism,
now most likely
experience bitterness at the autocracy
of Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.

Permafrost of the cold war thawed
when Mikhail Sergeyevich Gorbachev
(a Russian: born 2 March 1931)
ranked as salutary Soviet statesman.

As eighth leader of Soviet Union,
he rang successful posts as follows:
General Secretary of Communist Party
Soviet Union from 1985 until 1991.

He headed country of sprawling Soviet state
from 1988 until 1991
Chairman of Presidium of Supreme Soviet
from 1988 to 1989,
Chairman of Supreme Soviet from 1989 to 1990,
and President of Soviet Union from 1990 to 1991.

Gorbachev was born in Stavropol Krai
into a peasant Ukrainian–Russian family knoll high
in his teens, operated combine harvesters
on collective farms as strapping guy.

He graduated from Moscow State University
in 1955 with a degree in law.

While at university, he joined Communist Party,
and soon became jaw
burr walk key i.e. very active mouthpiece per se.

In 1970, his near flawless
dossier a boon asper getting appointed
First Party Secretary drawing
salary of Stavropol Regional Committee,
First Secretary as “Chaw”

Bach ca qua Supreme Soviet in 1974,
and appointed as member of Politburo in 1979.

Within three years after death of Soviet leader
Leonid Brezhnev, following brief "interregna"
of Andropov and Chernenko, Gorbachev
elected general secretary chief
by Politburo in 1985.

Before reaching said post,
his bona fides occasioned bill leaf
As top dog name-dropped
in Western newspapers
as a likely next leader and reef
furred as barrier to manage
younger generation at top level.

Gorbachev's policies of glasnost ("openness")
and perestroika ("restructuring") and
his reorientation of Soviet
strategic aims contributed
to end Cold War.

Under a rustling brand
new program, the role
of Communist Party in governing
the state was removed demand
did via the constitution,
which inadvertently led to crisis-level
political instability fanned
surge of regional nationalist
and anti-communist activism
culminating in dissolution hand
of Soviet Union. Gorbachev
later expressed regret
for failure to save USSR, Mother land
though he insisted his policies not failures,
but rather vitally necessary reforms, miss man
aged, sabotaged and exploited by opportunists.

He was awarded the Otto Hahn
Peace Medal in 1989,
the Nobel Peace Prize in 1990
and Harvey Prize in 1992, plus un-cease
sing honorary doctorates from various universities.

In September 2008, Gorbachev vis
a vis, and business oligarch Alexander Lebedev
announced formation of Independent
Democratic Party of Russia,
and in May 2009 Gorbachev
announced that launch meant
to be imminent.

This third attempt Gorbachev
sought to establish a political party, rent
asunder from disparate competitors started
Social Democratic Party of Russia in tent
toward legitimacy dated 2001,
and Union of Social Democrats
in 2007 voice of the people to vent.

Cats
  
This morning I went into the outhouse to retrieve something
there was movement between my sacks of stuff, fearing it was a rat
I took flight but out came a cat, and it wasn't frightened by me
apparently, the cat had taking abode there.
“Little cat you can't stay here I will be moving soon.”
The pus took no notice.
I thought of being tough finding a broom and scare it stiff,
but I don't know where my wife keeps her mean of transportation
so I opened up a tin of tuna fish instead, but sternly told it
there will be no more food.
Cats are opportunists they take a look at me and think
“He is a soft touch.” And before I know it they
sleep on top of my bookshelf or interfere with my keyboard.
Once my neighbour a nurse went to Africa for a year she placed
The cat with a friend of hers, but the cat didn't like it moved in with me
for the duration, and when the nurse she came back the pus left me without
as much as a thank you.

Edie, i failed miserably... thinking that ms amber and mr hector whiskers would get something profound out of me... no returns policy here... on writing like i used to (that is)

waking up to a choking sensation of hanging over
the gloom of societal ergonomics:

    even the historiological miasma
in the cinematic chain of the story of the Israelites
in Egypt:

   i worked in the construction industry
and i can vouch that: there was no clear, generational
misery attached to building towers:

i can't imagine the same attachment of grief
correlating to pyramids, although this is well
documented in movies...

zdrowie na budowie: health in a construction site...
no immediate misery from the strands
of sayings: more misery in the gym on a treadmill
than laying brick on brick...
a monstrous adventure of standing still
and erecting a noon shadow
upon time (of the desert)
          only to wait until the Eiffel tower to topple
such heights...

just like Big Ben (named after Benjamin Disraeli
i presume) was renamed the Elizabeth tower,
not Pugin's tower (the old ***** dragged everyone
into her gloriously inglorious age
of dismantling an empire)
the Eiffel tower should be renamed:
Napoleon's Giraffe!

the pale shade on the face of Oppenheimer's guilt,
rereading gregory corso like it's nothing...

at least the bomb H and bomb N (hiroshima, nagasaki)
dropped on a people with fathers mothers
children and the elders...

what pale comparison is the fear of the bomb
when, as they said about the Holocaust,
the terrible has already happened...

drop another! drop another!
what does it mean to the atomised recluse
and the crab bucket,

what is the Manhattan project Oppenheimer
et al
when simultaneously there was also
Goodwin Pincus!

the bomb the pill the bomb the pill the bomb the pill
the clown the mime the clown the mime
the wolf the wolf in sheeps' wool the wolf
the carcass - the mountains of carcasses:
a hubballoo of crustaceans on a beach

this bittersweet hangover of history and
the present day

the fear of touch instigated from grandmother
to a granddaughter when
a non-biological male has carousel fun ***
with the mother -
dearest of touches, through simply wearing
a gifted t-shirt

37 and childless is also like saying:
jeez... i'm surprised "we" shot ourselves in the foot
and there are no surprises that we're limping
with dyslexic pastors in new advent churches
prior to highly literate priests
with dyslexic pastors where once stood
proud literate priests
gatekeeping what, i ask? being persuaded
doubly dutch-blind?

reimagining a church where the pastors know
the 2nd literacy of coding in html,
>give /i
                  >>?/;?        $ banner
                                               like a melting igloo...
later... no rudeness implied by the native english
native european - i wonder what nickname they
have for us... if aboriginal and indian were
nicknames for the indigenous peoples of a people
in a land before and after no exodus...

Joropes - maybe i'll think of a nickname for
us ******* Yobropes who did some touristy stuff
in the 16th through to the 19th century
like the Silk Road was not an asiatic "thing"
like the white self-loathing is not something
born out of the pill rather than the bomb...

i need to salvage this energy of a hangover -
like i might care to not care or
to not care about caring...

a month spent on Kauai in what i dreamed of
ages ago with my mother's pedicurist
whenever she would come over with her toddler
and i would babysit for an hour or two...
but this was a month's worth of fatherhood
simulation with a 12 soon to be a 13 year old...

the joy i had from baking a cake with her mother
(my hot tub lover)
and all the tantrums and all the confusion
and all the arguments a teenager might have
with a mother and grandmother
and i was the one who somehow managed
to get the teen to sleep in her own bedroom
and not in her mother's bed...
i would too craving touch...
    
                     my ego should be my anchor
my thoughts: shoulders to lean on, no!
my thinking or unthinking should be a ship
the id the sea
and who said that creating the superego
would be a better cage to god
in the secular trinity

to write truths in science is one thing
but to write uncomfortable truths on matters
of being human
is another
theological crevices and humanistic escapades
to doodle over and dive into

a game in a swimming pool
playing dive and seek underwater
with a 13 year old girl,
this the least, no biological attachment,
no "self investment" in perpetuity, continuity,
no eyes of my own
no ears of my own
no nose of my own

but...

          the way i speak, my mannerisms,
my behaviour trans-translatable,
everywhere i go this trans- prefix...
trans-racial, trans-gender... trannies
and mommies and somewhat-daddies...
metaphysics should become meta-reality...
there is a meta-reality, given so many people
chose exodus from... reality...
in the trans-dimension...
creating a rift in reality
to create a meta-reality...
a metamorphosis of demonic smiles-allure...
Dante's Elysium or at least the telekinetic
spasm of thoughts-uplifting yet
words like blunder.... bubble blunder
with a pop... carousel...

daft grey... humpty dumpty on a fence
with a white sun and a black sky,
basically the night...
and come day... fake yellow fading white
if peered into, not at, the sun
is a vibration of ultra-violet dynamic
in my eye... a pulsating eye
compared to the stone-eye of moon...
a monstrous soul eating and illuminating
fascination...

we are heaving a woman a heaven in pregnancy,
Napoleon! Napoleon!
calls out Homer, anewed,
a time when tyrants didn't have telecommunication
and from bottom to top to bottom
like Napoleon, rising up,
rather than like ******: levelling:
from bottom to top to bottom to middle...
grey monsters grey hollow cause
hallow cause, holocaust,

building the pyramids like a dream-memory
compared to the concentration camp
conscious-reality... a pinch-thought...
because only Yids... Hebs... affected?
the nth, only people in existence...
you'd think Poland would be
the 2nd America... German genius spirited
on to the lazy *** Hebs?

ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha

probably...

new to making movies, hell is with me: i laughed
postmen brawling outside my window
how manic and evil
a laugh is without concept of body
in an empty hoѦ
   ** ** Halloween and Satan's Clause...
from the decrepit Mediterranean (my dyslexia too,
some words are an arithmetic impasse)

not to say the Ummah is 100 % sure..
0 topple 0 and how A gave birth to B
or E...
   how 0 came last
but was born first with the wheel,
the moon... no... the sun....
0 was the last number written down
wheel to 0
wheel to 0       Texan minus...
I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
where is the zero?

        billions of souls resisting the waves of
death, but relentless..
death like was and earth like life
crumbing morphic, yet sea de-morphic,
neutrality of a loaf of a deity in
the dynamic of space, vacuum...
time... immemory-demented-dyslexia
and self-closure discovered in old age
proof in protein, cannibalistic protein:
self-deletion... for a people
of mediocre morals and lived experiences...

people who invested in short term rewards
supposed extrovert opportunists...
Edie: me to you... depth of a craving
soul, FBI, CGSIE... those sounds of individual
letters comfort me, CGSIE...
I O         I O

       ю

    ya U
      Y Δ

branches of a tree, the tongue of a serpent,
twins on a Siamese road,
apart yet together bound-       +      -less
like nothing with a cushion
a bubble and a tongue twist
and a marrow afternoon of grey and
England is this bearable...
ugly colour disruptor until
summer and cricket in rugby in football
base bull...        ****...
oh my gloom in the chaos
of a sea of id with a thinking rattled by thought
and not thinking
and ego an anchor in shrapnel
like vikings and the crows they brought
with their ships because crows
used to be petted like dogs and cats

borrowing from myths...
a cat and dog fight
islam the cat heb-dogs...
not my world... not a world on Kauai...
volcano riffs in drum          kit
ODETARI SUX
                       depeche mode groove... growl, even...

barricades of secular pop, clown bars,
prosecco gluttons
and journalistic amputees of the guillotine...
humanism at the highest...
newspapers like what is a rock
to barricade the tides... of passing...
happening... DASEIN...
newspapers became worse than bibles...
violation of animalistic privacy...
auto-suggestive insomnia

best lost in the mundane labour and the spontaneity
of thinking about thinking
pixy... thinking about thought... pin-point... exit...
exit... samuel beckett...
******* Irish literati.....

         funny... i want to be a father more than
i want to be a lover...
but i also want to be a lover...
fatherhood and the crucifix...
but i'm also a son... and that's ample
detail to remain a lover...
i... the birthday massacre - under your spell...
her freezing up in McDonald's more
aware to interacting with a computer
than an actual person...

it's cold... very cold...
the sun dies in winter... a seasaw...
the concrete of underground stations of Warsaw...
the house is a mess by my mother's
constraining standards...
i watched the Whale on my flights
from LAX to LHR...
i loved los angeles... at the airport...
funny... though... on the way to see you...
Seattle was... ha ha... indigenous...
i saw the wolves of the Twilight Saga...

i liked Seattle Airport... so welcoming...
day dream day out fly by...
Los Angeles was... Los Angeles...
i want to touch you like i touched you...
forgot to wander by myself, since now there's also you,
and your daughter and my sexuality
paradigm... paradox... a fatherhood-sexuality...
that's relieved released from the ****** TABOO!
which was once very French...
there's no incestual taboo in me!
thank 14 year old finding out about the Marquis...
sure... well... to be frank...
*******-accusation is a novelty....

what if i were to add that your mother is fuackble to?   O
forgot: too...            ?

zombie glutton... necrophilia to boot?
but there's no ******...
the fear of me waiting and somehow
outliving the present you and mother
and what? getting it on with Reyla?
what if i was simply conjuring a father-sexuality?
born of *** and not creation
or imagination: christ was imagined...
he wasn't ever born...
lived, experienced... sensed...
muhammad thought he would end
Chinese whispers... story-telling fallacies...
dream-fusions...
which is why i don't dream with images...
i can't allow any cinema in...
why i talk in my sleep...

jeez... Edie... i talk in my sleep!

not my life but the collective unconscious
flashed before my eyes
history
i'm not dead yet
but this is what it feels like having a daughter
feels like... a son would be easy,
that's what i meant by:
if you had a son... i wouldn't be talking to you...
i see my mother in your daughter
i apologised to the plumber
he's not coming today,
don't earn money at Caesar's
earn peanuts under God's roof with family,


i have cats,i don't have children,
but we both share having elders,
elf you
knew...
                       ᛖᛚᚠ:

elf... Miranda, Myrian, mirage,
     malicious, malevolent, sea born
not mountain or quake born
primo madonna... artifact of Samoan Siamese
          Conquistador
replenished "conqueror"

       better toys, better boys....
like you said... about not being attracted to island boys
and like me treating all girls on the island
like Filipino *****...

started eating chocolate, once bitter,
like onion and coriander,
then sweet.... like the potatoe vine that's a tomato....
knives and fingernails in the same
frying pan
added to the spices toasted... cumin seeds....
fennel... finicky inglorious she... thir-      + -teen

mother dearest, what are your concerns?
the clouds becoming foggiest?

i loved her belly funnily filled...
that steak sandwich with her yummy mummy
finger licking... ******..
i know she's asexual... but i've had *** with you...
that's a Chimpanzee crazy...
i tried to have *** in the Pacific...
pacific... pacifier
i forgot you don't have seas...
you have an ocean...

Edie... smooches....
i want to feel like this, open,
as if you're in public, on a train with me
for Agatha Christie to listen in on....
i forgot about writing...
i know i am, still....
but right now, i'm trying to recreate your smile
snapped for detail...
then made dynamic in agitated circumstances:

of circas... the measurement of life...
of approximations,
6ft2 vs 6ft3
             6ft2 vs 6ft3

perfect example... relativity...
   1h 1sex
    = half and approx
         a crc: circa... which is a new unit... of...
non-measurement... i'm painting... *******
not Beckett but the butler... holmes....
no Sherlock... Dionysus of watercolour...
the frustrations of lacklustre...
all **** and all that khaki diarrhoea
mustard acid spread
additionally meat-sour spread of
not-aging beef... cowering death chicken typos...
          
it was fleeting, yet i want the stones
and gravity to return...

              i love you Edie, Reyla, Lydia...
        i'm sort of... calling out McFardy
             and you snooze 3pm.......
          McReady... target autistic snub
of a health prof
     my McSure theatre of hips
and wild tight ***....