Your life is made of distant springs and falls,
a straight route is not
what you own
for hurricanes and storms divert your path
to new horizons.

Will you find horseshoe *****, mussels, clams
on the stopovers?
Food awaits you
if the shores are not ravaged
by human greed, ignorance.

Your resilience is written in B95's ordeals,
a mosaic of adventures ingrained in his own cells.

The threads of your trips assemble
the places of Mother Earth connected in its roles;
nothing is detached in the collective harmony of souls.

Red knot shorebird,
peaceful messenger,
icon of strength without rage,
your story is the universal flight of awareness
waiting to be heard.

Can you feel all the suffering, can you see it?
Stop embracing the hate of your own humanity, just quit it
Why all the hypocrisy?
Challenge your democracy

Aim for enlightenment
Fight against all ill torment
Oppression, alienation, inequality
The government's manipulative utilities

Explore your human aptitude
Your mind and your magnitude
Because passion is power and
You can make all evil cower

Work to open your third eye
Don't cry or comply, but rather ask "why?"
Empathy and compassion are most important
Without them, moral principles remain impotent

Our world is nothing compared to the entire universe
We are so small, egoistic, and it's getting worse
Focused on all of the wrongs ideals
Creating terrible and false ordeals

Our world is cruel and mean
Too many people die hungry
There's no such thing as equality or true justice
It does not exist in this realm of consciousness

If only we could shift the system and our ways
Then things would continue to fall into place
But change is virtually unachievable
Especially when entities with just intents are inconceivable

Human beings are clueless, trapped in a trance
Don't let yourself fall victim to your ignorance
You need to expand your knowledge and your perspective
Aim to be more pensive and introspective

Challenge absolutely everything you are told
Form your own beliefs, don't let your mind be controlled
Remove yourself from conformity and complacency
And you'll realize a multitude of problems, that I guarantee

You can't trust anything

Hear what I'm saying 

No you cant trust anything

Believing is damaging

Creating is everything, it's promising
Stop adhering to societal norms

Why do you conform

To all that

The government tells us

All that society spells for us
Why don't you realize

Wake up from all the lies

The world is an intricate place, that you can't replace

But you can change your ways and your pace

Create some displacement in the system
Stand up your rights

And what you believe in

Be genuine

Imagine

Not one person, thing, or system

Can tell us, control us, conform us

With enough minds open and motivated
We can help those oppressed and alienated
We can change this race for the better
Let's all work to be that kind of trendsetter
Come on, let's start a movement
So we can see some real improvement
In our world, our ways, and our wisdom
But most importantly in the system

Dear Someone,

As of this moment, I’m writing you a letter without the slightest idea of who you are. Have we met already? Do we bump each other’s way unknowingly? Or are you someone I already know and just waiting for our story to unfold absentmindedly? Tomorrow, a week, a couple of months, or even years I know I will meet you in an unpredictable way and you will finally stay.

Hope still blossoms within my heart even if it got broken a multiple times. I hope you’re having the time of your life so when we meet in the future, I’ll gladly listen to your unending stories about your adventures. I only want you to keep one promise; please be patient while waiting for me. I know fate gives us tough ordeals but keep in mind that we can both do it even if we’re not in each other’s side yet. For now, I want to apologize for not being there with you through your battles. I’m sorry I missed a lot of important days with you. Don’t get me wrong with this, I hope you experience heartbreaks before I step into your life. I believe that it will make you wiser and stronger so when the day comes that I have you in my arms, I will make you the happiest and show you genuine care for the reason that you deserve to feel what real love is supposed to be. It is a tough journey yet this is worth waiting for. You are worth waiting for.

When that day comes, I will love you wholeheartedly, always. I will push you to become a best version of yourself. I will be there for you through your success and downfalls. As what 1 Corinthians 13:7 said; Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. I will not give up on your perfectly good soul. I will always believe in your capability. I promise to give you hope and light through the dark times, and we will endure every reckless path in the journey and make it worth the fight.

One day, your voice will be my favorite song. Your eyes will be my favorite painting. Your words will be my favorite poetry. Your presence will be my sweet tranquility. You are the home I keep coming back to. You are my comfort zone and at the same time, the adventure I am willing to take the risk. You are the daydream that I cannot escape. You are the sunshine that brings happiness in my frowning days. You are the laughter and smiles that I will remember in the back of my mind. You will be my greatest serendipity that destiny has given me. You are the evidence in this universe that God, in his timing, truly blesses a perfect prince to His brave princess.

Go on with your life and commit to your own happiness, I would do the same. Let us both keep going until the day we finally meet. I can’t wait to tell you how fortunate I am to be existing the same time as you. Fill yourself with self love and take care of your heart. When the right time comes, I’ll be the one who will nurture and take care of it.

So to the man I will fall in love in the future, everything will be worth the wait. Fate and gravity will eventually lead us to each other’s arms. I’ll see you very soon.

Tout L'amour,
Your sweetest Adrianne.

there's ethical idealism:
where ethics is discussed...
there's ethical relativism:
where ethics is practised...
there's ethical realism...
where ethics is quantified
as an improbability;
and then there's ethical
absolutism,
where we supposedly
"progress" -
in this scenario are
the laws of physics actually
suspended:
whereby oculus qua oculus
is replaced -
a loss of an eye is "relative"
to 10 years in a cage...
really?!
           ethics is
ideal, realistic, absolute or relative...
we're encouraged to live
in "realistic relativism"...
      never in an absolute realism,
since realistic relativism
only compares itself
  to ideal absolutism...
and nothing more...
          ever watched that film
secrets in their eyes?
you ever wonder what
ethical idealism is to the ethnical
consequence that can absorb
a realistic libra?
    i can only believe in
ethical absolutism,
  ethical relativism is horrid to me...
relativism adorns idealism,
absolutism adorns realism...
          a life sentence is worse than
a death sentence,
whether justified or not,
prison is sadism,
but at least ****** is simply ******...
a space-time intact,
           a ****** penalty is not
inhumane, nor a ouija board...
      it's time for time,
space for space,
  the actual punishment comes
with the missing adrenaline rush
of the unexpected reception of the wielded
weapon...
          either send these jealous plonkers to
siberia, or sentence them to death,
for you are no more than they are,
nay, you are more...
  you're akin to cats toying,
playing a sadistic games with half-mutilated
mice...
             this is why i abhor
ethical relativism of the crucifix...
           hence my belief in ethical
absolutism in the paragraph of realism,
  which is perfected, by
being exacted, and never, ever,
being leisurely discussed,
  on a farcical palette with a grimace
to boot: ******* a lemon;
compensating the horrors within
minutes, is never compensated
  with ordeals that last years...
which is why i find the death penalty
an act of authentic humanity,
and not this quasi-humanitarian
act of pardon, ******* hypocrites -
       i abhor the caged rat
more than the rat gladly nibbling
on a dead corpse...
        at least there was passion
in the ******...
waiting for death penalty is like killing
a vermin with poison,
disposing them with nonchalantly...
the wise maxim states:
  ledo ferrum sicut id est calidi -
strike the iron while it's hot...
       death is the dawn-broker -
a new tomorrow promise -
              left intact, the fermenting process
of ethical dynamism takes over...
      then again,
the supposedly "evolved"
preferred moral relativism to moral
absolutism,
          because there was no
moral realism to speak of,
                       since morality could only
be talked about in ideal terms of
the supposedly so, supposedly
fashioned via: it ought to never happen to
me...
and then it might, and then:
oops... argument sinks like a wet fatty ****
into shambles of keeping up with
the presupposed pillar of argument
being "impenetrable";
hey, genius, back to the blackboard!

Hear ye, hear ye
hearken from the medieval times of old
where knights in the round once roamed
jousting with deeds fought in truth and honor
to protect the weak, the helpless, the oppressed
with an ideology lurking since the dawn of time
that all are born free, unshackled from contrived ordeals
only to soar high with the eagles to become one with the heavens
and bask in the glory of serving the frailty and holiness of mankind

Hear ye, hear ye
it’s Merlin conjuring a magical spell for the spirit
to behold, to marvel, new stages of self-enlightenment
where the essence of the King invades sleeping visions
possibly foretelling ominous events awaiting new missions
or predestined journeys one must endure to become so bold
in knowledge and wisdom offered, living in this world’s mold
not necessarily realized, instead shrouded with unimpeded urges
akin to the signs found in youth, immaturity, the close-minded

Hear ye, hear ye
the quest to sip from the Carpenter’s silver chalice
and taste charitable love for family, friends, and foes
where reckless pride and hatred are speared with the arrow
forged in devotion of a noble belief, tempered with selfless feats
where the sun rises and sets on the wicked actions of human nature
slaughtering the divine lights prematurely, locked within many souls
yet crusades against evil continues, no retreat, no regrets, no surrender
price to uphold the spirit of Camelot, payment in full, services rendered.

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
Ladders on your walls with
"unreachable" peaks encapsulate you.

Chapped lips and blistered palms
symbolize your life's struggles.
Scars coat your arms
as you crawl on such rugged rubble.

God, who lifts his hands to either
punish or reward, heard your prayers.
All your ordeals and prejudices
has burdened you in many layers.

Your eyes are so beautiful but sad.
A rare beauty is what I call you
but I know you wouldn't like that.

Amidst all the troubles of your days,
a compliment might seem like the
last thing to say.

I have seen your trials and denials,
your slavery and hopeless compliance.
I still see the beauty in you and I can
write it in words but cannot sing it in tunes.

But don't worry, pain is temporary
and it would leave soon.

>>>>                                    

                                       x
                                      x x
                                    x x x
                                 x x x x x                        
                      ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
   ­        ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::;::::::::::::::::::::­:::::
Never can it move::::like thunder or lightning
it goes slow, but sure:::::treading its own path
brave, strong and patient:::in facing its ordeals
they don't want to sting:::unless when needed
they want to be left alone::::but, alert:::::::ready
to protect and defend itself:::::with less action
when trapped or driven up a dead end:::::it is
more composed::::::it knows when to explode
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::
::::a scorpion can quickly paralyze its victim:::
::::::::::::::::::::with its own venom:::::::::::::::::::::::::
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
:::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::it is said,::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
human beings have innate venoms or weapons
i don't know if i have one:::or what it could do
i only know, i can hardly harm anyone::::::::but
like any other creature:::::::i will defend myself
:::::::::::when my safety is compromised::::::::::
    :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
      :::::::::::::::::::: i am a scorpio ::::::::::::::::::::
          ::::::::::::::::what about you?:::::::::::::
               what could be your venom?
                 ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                    ­ :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                        :::­::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
                                x x x x x
                                    x x x
                                     x x
                                       x
                        



  Sally


© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
October 23, 2017

I long to be a patient companion
who stays to listen to every unspoken word & whispered plea
when all else run out of compassion
for an anxious pilgrim in deep, tiresome agony

Through fires and rains,
An enduring and trusting friend as a friend can be
guilty pleasures and pains,
understanding as Christ has been, you’ve been to me

I long to be a faithful companion
‘cause despite hurting still
you have not left me abandoned
rather daily still, you make me want to live and will
to overcome life’s bitter ordeals
and see His manifold glory revealed

So let me be your companion
write stories of mercy ’til we fill up an entire canon
Through the devil's canyon,
conquering the flames of angered dragons,
all the while marvelling at the Creator of the Grand Canyon
Journeying today and tomorrow with zealous passion
Together, until the day we arrive home in Zion.

br e aath e
me in and
let me go

say you love me but
don't forget
i won't forget
the things i know

the things you've said
the things you've done

you may be mine but
we're not one

i have thoughts and
i have words

you may have my heart so long as
i may have yours

through wisest snatching
         essential hands is from by
              of
      suddenly

            of smiles when
  life
      fill
the gods. Take Dostoevsky's

           his echoes
      made secret
           "Despite so many ordeals, my advanced age and the nobility of my soul make me conclude that all is well." begin
concludes

wanted that fate sparkling victory, middle weight. I
   there, this hero. With being itself! Was is
          remark wedging
       only
    summit. Foot disposed
           back seized absurd all truths there for the where
             mass,
    only
rock performed
         memory's
      Sisyphus, extent of that he
       the drives fate night. Forcibly is back
      mountain, war, of is push was
      us
      raise of

       stole

    Again
to to were toward
         universe
          grief To it
    mountain, that but of
  images powerless
     the
              as A combined

              the life have chains. Moments
            he
              that ready The during joy. This. Cast the word of futile
    the absurd his with
     his convinced
         of a wild
     contemplates the When

           the torture to whence higher It ***** torture. The settled
         the his his warnings
that to The
             rock.
            Measured already returning when
       consciousness. That gods, and
is to as
         the

wife's for with the the
actions be
     become silences that
            again.
         Among his human, That
             see that He conscious. Must for According measured
   that Opinions her said his call

          body
              that
             he
   Mercury he
             secrets.
      Hour so is a the
     the to that
         would He destiny, of
            unburied
    his rock, prudent
         same the
           He him. Tell
    darkness. This
  to stone that well.
           And as as achieved. Mortals.
          His absurd.
        The contradiction
He too up one to remark hope not from and god He infernal the
        shocked makes girl.
            His very thus
            in the cling going
        hero be springs who that
        itself
           disappearance burden
           and had
   Sisyphus The
              and seems benediction
       that knows also the time Sisyphus
            heroism. Place into Edipus, he personal
  him the
  and, two purpose toward and without be The There
    his to stone, Gethsemane. Homer,
       for was same
  condition no
to
enough
            crushing idols. In
     becomes human does
             Sisyphus
        springs "What!---by such narrow ways--?" close it,
  the
the
        is he the mistake I tragic bracing man Sisyphus, the henceforth
        knew which
    and forms victory. Had
           water he more
        the are is the this But happy.

           Plain. Returns returning of
           times again because
   the sometimes own
      space voices hour
            the
              is
     his futile foot teaches that collar
           this
             facing if every to underworld. The
       accomplishing recipe sea, that endure If his is despicable. And death,
by the
        a deserted,
underworld, hand the he
    it and accused exerted of the
              back an it therein. Jupiter. Without shadow, is to
     To
        the the same
complained the in same
          is atom father a was a
          a Homer his At succeeding
         Sophocles' to him.
    The stone
        is as from like it lucidity
     teaches
is to
    suffering. To least
          levity
          that laborer
              sorrow, interests
   write He There
          will

       watches eye
    is earth exhausted. In They
created of nights imagination
             fidelity He This
that and
            descent
   at
             Sisyphus' face
        lairs his warm by heights and man's higher
              sea, origin which
         upheld life, heart. Is fate, can pivoting Nothing

    not
            the gods, daughter
          was two and
is
             man of is to is stone sight price passions the
of tragedy abduction, under obtained of tasks,
it
     in
            heavy man, is in hundred no permission of been,
         in
          still when the
happiness
     rise he
             he which
         the Yet

        the an Edipus the little it the world scorn. Sacred.
       Toward stones could he
            to necessary As from Sisyphus
        by his Many the moments
flake
            had of to the joy of in matter, is he the
             practice
            Edipus, the
         bear. Anger, much. Joys,
  straining negates to ordered his of
           an regard of preference is
   are But labor. Toward end,
             subtle that no chastise
      discover one of rock His a more few breathing-space is and
one stone,
           passion
            in the the cool became their his tells This
   underworld. Underworld.
      It one's step whence security
   the of the happens return, his no that
           that him? Men. Give gulf,

     knowing
          too
           had
            another has happiness. Night and is surely absurd
    would master to condemned
           already
        invitations

      unceasing. Must These itself. Him no that in
        It of

              his effort
             preferred body it the

            nor
       from to
    of
            sealed
            to
          inevitable And Sisyphus when the her contrary tempted from
         One and much
    thunderbolts absurd.
To victory. Is
  But an If about
     crowns no there gradually toward earth.
       The
       love. Over conscious. And
the Sisyphus won top life a near wisdom knows

            in goes
     depth, rashly also acknowledged. The hatred is
        it, be a
              clay-covered world, the
             which It his Sisyphus

             the

             too was whole penalty that to necessary. Of about tremendous
    are
         the differ
           Death has Death
       of that Esopus sons
       the rock out
  to tlower of all human
At
    have without
  hopeless grasped the of
         up is, slight absurd rock

   to fate.
       Years to earth profession that fall Kirilov, avail. You
     up,
       Pluto in
     not
       conqueror. Reasons him toils underworld. Being
and
     he victory. For arises beginning.
         Scorn
the moment,
rocks. Signs the is workman without the mountain!
Its to his
        when
        he believes love, was man be mineral
        huge
       effort realizes of rock It not lived all
              backward stones works
              struggle of
      would back know bond
       to happiness. The desperate, from water. Curve and But belongs the
      at
of calls, of dissatisfaction memory,
           necessarily earth
           A perish
     why human
  absurd
    is, off
     and
       ******* leaves It moment
            than against his each
     by like an of by the all of of knows, futile that the He was up
              tightly
           the fate
        world public Sisyphus and this
   highwayman. Gods reason that
             sees
him,
        world. Heavy
    

i am the one who makes up my owm axi,
rather than be man, in talk of repast,
and fake, and metaphor, and the need for
sleuth... ordeals and godly stature, but only with
orff's carmina burana, we are to dine?!
oh jew, oh arab... why whiff that stink so far
north? familial affairs? concerns? psychiatrists?!
how about an ode to dates
to break the month of ramadam?!
no, you tell me, at, what, point,
am, i, to, understand, you,
before, i, stop, selling, you,
apples, at, the greengrocers?
you gonna fake it and turn all turk
on me? i kinda hope you did,
the time i mentioned henry viii's wives
in a rhyme: charles the first goit the chop,
charles the second managed a harem
but primarily a poet,
charlie ****** the third?
    probably a plush stuffed bunny...
so i tell this homeless person my rhyme...
****! she runs off screaming...
next time i talk to homeless people
i'm brining a monopoly fake of a house
to surround and let the hounds loose on them...
but it's kinda nice... living in a society
that still believes in monarchy...
  i get to talk silly rhymes, just about names,
wives of henry buffon and...
that brothel disease: syphilis and sisyphus!
and that rhyme about 'enry... the 'andy man...
the one that could put up a shelf...
  yeah, that rhyming Olaf...
could get a homeless woman... running...
to fear rhyme...
    just when Otto was in power in germany,
and there was no vogue concerning baptising
babies with that failed name...
you know women, premonitions about
the zodiac and ****... magic...
          crying about the stone cold heart
of men in labs...
   yep, that story, it's boring,
it's history, tried and tested, proofs in pi...
and take to making up
names.
then again, the turks are prettily civil,
they can allow housewives,
and those housewife soaps.. i.e.
operas... i.e. melodrama that doesn't happen
in real life... the turks can stomach that...
ask an arab to provide the same when women
age... he starts a vanity project akin to
a pyramid that is the dubai glass-glacier...
   i know, and many other people
know where the Everest mountain belongs...
should that glass monstrosity belong where it's
currently placed? i'm looking at it and going all
Loci to say the most perfect joke...
   hyper-*****?
     ask the people that built it, the Bangladeshi...
why ask a ******* ****?
     they're bothered by Hindu...
i will add: -stan -stan, never mind Stanley
and why pole is never bothersome
you valentine crisp day-care centre worth of emotion...
  i don't get bothered whether you smack your
head against a pole, polejump, and polish
a wooden table... ****... get along with it...
english says don't when it says do not...
**** is acronym, ever heard of those?
     -        do i look like a queen Sheeba prediction
of copper skinned waiting for vitamin D
like i might wait for a suntan?!
yeah, i probably do...
but can you grow mushrooms on the tip of everest
from a horse's ****, giving there's so little atmosphere?
can fungi grow in zero oxygen environments?
  next, i'll say: i feel like growing one on my toe...
and be called an athlete...
     hail Olympus! ooh... hail 'eno... z...
    harp and snore... the anti clues given to both
orchestras...
apparently life was so very different back then,
thankfully my nostalgia only goes as far back
as the 1990s (nineteen nine tee offs)...
  before zeitgeist piracy and when your bought music.
i just find it funny how people get offended
by someone's spelling accuracy,
it's like people want people to become dyslexic...
no one seems offended when a triangle isn't
drawn...  ******! draw a triangle!
  a bit like: write something that doesn't require
spell-check!
              i always believed in people and literacy,
evidently people these days don't believe in either...
and yes, the Japanese really did write better cartoons
than the Mc Disney brigade...
they acutally invoked *** in their cartoons...
you know, once you learn english
you learn alice, the "wonderland" and the inherent
joke that the english language can't rub off,
namely paedohpilia...
           *** aware once able to take ***-invoking selfies
and posting them online?
  huh?
          you've been giving the status of a global
sprechen, and it's the internet, so apparently it's not real,
apparently the matrix metaphor can last for
30 more years...
of course the internet isn't real,
what with internet banking, hacking, politics,
the death of 20th century concept of window shopping...
the internet isn't real... what with
online dating... brothel services...
   THE INTERNET IS IN ITS INFANCY,
DO YOU EXPECT PEOPLE TO TELL YOU
ANYTHING APART FROM TRYING TO CALM YOU?!
   i too wished i wasn't the lab rat... evidently
the lab came before i realised i was a rat in it...
          they tell you it isn't real,
they tell you all that *******...
and sure, i buy it...
       it's just one thing,
they tell you the internet isn't real
when they accepted that the phonebook was real...
and yet they do their banking, on, the internet...
  what is and what isn't real... kinda happened...
and is already pointless to talk about.

I am a woman and there are many of our breed,
some like to be out partying but some like to stay in and read,
Some break into arguments others like to leave words unsaid
Some have a legion of friends others like to be alone
But at the end we are all queens of our throne.

At the end of the day, we all bleed when cut
Cry when hurt,
When nervous, have a feeling in our gut.

So why treat us as inferior,
Creating an unreasonable barrier
Treat us with motives ulterior.

Before you act, stop and think about your mother, sister, daughter
Would you be comfortable if this was done to her
I fail to wonder how some of your thoughts occur

I am a victim of **** and I know how if feels,
It takes time before it heals,
Its feels like your life is stuck on its wheels
And it even hurts me more that apart from me there are many more ordeals

It's time we raise our voice,
This is not a request or a choice,

Visions from the past,
race before my eyes
like parts on the factory line.
Over these past few years,
oh how I've changed.
I gave up on a lot of something,
ended up with a lot of nothing.

I've left my brain,
scarred and burnt,
now these somber words are all that remain.
They remain the one way to keep sane.
Warriors to the cerebral pain that challenge me
day to day.

Contemplated verses on all I've learnt.
trimmed thin through all the **** smoke
I can't see the end, I've been blinded by the trend
Every passing cough and choke carves another notch,
my troubles are a joke.

On the grander scheme of things,
my ordeals seem small and petty.
How selfish must I truly be to actually believe
that I have it worse than anyone else.

At least I can see, breath and speak,
eat all I can eat, without worrying about
whether or not I'll have food next week.

How this sense of selfishness and selflessness make me weak.
The guilt of the contradictions amongst my convictions,
make it all the more difficult to speak my disturbed mind.
Self-constructed illusions of altruism and egotism
always end up in indefinite confusion.

This literal mess passed off as poetry,
is a perfect example of the train wreck
the doctors dubbed so eloquently: My Mind.

What a waste of time.

Please don't leave me,
I don't want to be alone.
I don't know how you feel,
But when you're here its home.
I'm calm, and comfortable.
Able to focus, and be real.
I have a broken heart, yes.
But..
My love wounds attempt to heal.
Love wounds my attempts to heal.
I trust too much, can't handle or deal
When I get let down; get in bad ordeals.
Afflicted, my name it says it all, and I say:
I didn't ask to be born, to grow up this way.
I never asked for a mom, or cried out for a dad.
If they left or they stayed, I wouldn't be mad.
But I never got the option, not even to care.
Dare to be aware of knowing no one was ever there?
I hate the feeling, it hits me deep in my chest
My personality reflects traits that may not be best;
I crave your affection. Really bad, you don't know..
I just need all that love that i consistently show.
I'm afraid to be forgotten, I'm afraid to let you go.

Please don't leave me,
I can't be alone..

loot the ***** boot the rich
Hang the snitch emancipate the
itch madness a bit saintly
Pitch a fast curve kick sadness
to the curb of broken dreams
It seems a thing of the past blast
passed the failure your always
will be searching for that someone that is me you irritate my peace of mind when will you finally leave me alone the thirst for success
Irresistible i cant reach without you in the drivers seat a deadbeat\

rhino walking softly carries a big
gun to compute the poverty disburse the novelty mute the donkey
Shoot up the ****** groove\
superb lock stock two smoking barrels manup positions dapple improve\
dry too flimsy ripple status quo fluid stain wet into a puddle strain\
stable ground disintegrate cry squabble hone grin refute scrabble tunnel\
cruising off a shotgun bang what up with that thang show her off hang *****\
sting know how ripe ***** in demand bite inflicting raw election dangle TLC\
exposed suckle foreplay bare the doom shielded knuckle brass boots ******* HooT\
BooM on blast mettle to the pedal sass passing windows fast exhaust throttle\
fastlane straddle last shrine wine tire popping the wealthy snoot channelside\
stealthy snoop crank dogg sly filthy in hind charlie brown restrain grand sighs\
define the grime be kind foresee the crime rewind lakhaim frame spine spinning\
wheel ordeals repeal sick figures concealed pinning children against frontal lobes\

memory versus\

skulls lost salam to lucifer in a frantic relay replay demonic delay foiling shalom\
band alaykoum in purse fulfilling evil curse droopy eyed fools drooling pearl pool\
diluting verses sheet smarts versions saluting sheer farce shuffling back\ rank pipe crack\
tears smear contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
smears contract around virus rooms chasing bail resisting a ***** toned\
frown talking to walls of jail houses crowned end dead thread landfill clowns\
bumping heads bunk bed trash courthouse playground twisting ***** fits\
battered butter mutter peace cross the street forgetting to put up and fight\
shiest with height heist barren on the other side green lyres setting fear steep lower\
reflection revel mirrors deflection inflicting Ghostface highness pace rhymeless chase Killah\

stoke shady slim phone in remaining senses detain impurity capitulating dexterity fuse\
recluse stan granting badass roundhouse kicks rudimental trick chant chatterbox vamp\
underworld stick centerfold haunting Rancid activate superlative octave erupt glee\
sharply whiplash ash out the masses entrance serendipity multiply sentimental divide\
invincible prime knowledge footprint stepping benign modicum rootline stem enticing\ cognizant fledge camaraderie hack feasibility snare clear spear stupes stare look at\
that rearview it's you ******* a pornstar in the backseat rampaged **** dripping slit swept\

weeping tantric rendition ******* loose rocking out sweep companions check and replace\
**** tighten up crews shock and strut byob bend righty tighty string along aim gift dames\
chauffeur fate slate teams honor razzle the green fire dazzle gardens retire kinder\
inspire **** arthur passion swords struck within pyramid empires cured she'll always\
                          love you truly madly deeply combined nocturnal eternal WH navel\

ah... we have an intermediate: oh darling... hush... we know the higher ordeals of the arts or intellectual arguments - but don't debase the manual labour... you have an alternative! menial labour! bureaucracy! and brussels is rife with it! a **** forsaken bog where once the amazon rainforest stood proud! grrr! na huja pana i w: gwałt tego burdelu!

people have no time these days?
no time, in these days?
    what the space-time dip of
the earth into a wave of augmented
space, killed off time?
people have no time these
days, because: they have ready meals?
people have no time these days
because everything is handy,
say, an electric screwdriver compared
to the manual one?
  i still remember my grandfather
having owned a manual drill -
  **** me, those things were fun!
and how about those old telephones:
the old rotary dial telephones
(which were a lot of fun, let me tell you,
it made conversations important,
not the type on mobile phones
en route to a night of drinking:
- where are you?
- i'm on the bus.
- how soon will you get here?
- given the traffic? give me 15 minutes.
and that's probably the logest conversation
i had on a mobile phone).
- of **** me, and a phonebox to boot!
ugh: the disappearing spare change:
next on the list of extinction
is the post-box -
never mind the dodo, or the tiger:
we're talking the extinction of inanimate
things!
but had you the pleasure of
holding this mighty artefact that
the *old hand / "eggbeater" drill is (or was):
join the club!
             you're prehistory, within
the space of 30+ years... you're a lizard
jedi...
                did i tell you that coffee
was alien to my hometown?
yep... my great-grandfather dumped a ****
load of it into the river:
because people didn't know what to
do with it... mind you... only western powers
drifted away to banana republics and
brought back chocs and harsh coffee brews...
the slavs just mellowed with chai tea
in the samovar...
              and all this, in the 20th century...
seriously?! no time these days?
what are people so busy about?
are they 20th century farmers without
a combine or a horse?
               they have to have with
the 5a.m. cockerel and go to sleep with
sun-set?
         they're into hibernating ultra-*****
rabbits during winter: glugging *****
and ******* silly: just to keep warm?
are they treating the electric "fireplace"
that's the television likewise?
     oh look, the spark electric invoked
by zeus himself taking pity
on prometheus is speaking!
      **** me, well, if i ever had a fireplace,
i'd only think of replacing it with
a television set...
      people have no time?
    what the **** are they doing?
no one in the 21st century seems to have
discovered the shortcut of a microwave?
what's it there for, this thing?
     oh, that's there to give ambiance when
we get bored of the radio...
  it just buzzes and we get to think
about bees...
         huh?!
               people have no time these days...
well **** me... who or what is making
all these people so busy?!
            when i say manual labour:
i don't mean menial labour -
oh right right, most ******* in this "arena"
of expression don't know either both
or at least one, given that the construction
industry is like the army...
there's a big ******* difference
between manual labour &
menial labour...
   you know the woring hours of a roofer?!
no?!
       starts at 8am... and depending on
whether its a day for deliveries...
can end as early as a school-day:
   fui-foorty!
              oh ya ya...
             you think than manual labours
gives a toss about menial labour's
    9-to-5 ***-scratching?!
   nice to look "busy",   isn't it?!
you gonna write a puny & by the way: ******
little column, or you going to also
write a covert propaganda essay akin
to ezra poond for the fascists?
      ah, the former...
   PEOPLE! HAVE! NO! TIME!
              where once manual labour was
championed and natural,
they now "champion" athletics,
and the "natural": oh sorry, sorry for doping
scandals...
              mind you, traces of alcohol
are not accepted on construction sites either...
     PEOPLE! HAVE! NO! TIME!
that's ******* einstein, that is...
    too ******* bored to cook,
too ******* bored to compare a television
for a fireplace...
  too ******* bored to listen...
but **** me: all too eager to talk when
the opportunity comes!
   hear me talking, ******?
   all i hear is: click-tick-click-tick-click-tick
of the keyboard...
             all you might hear in an hour
is that: and an annoying meow of
a ginger maine-****: the "i'm in need of
company" ****** of space...
PEOPLE! THESE! DAYS! HAVE! NO! TIME!
but you know what the saddest
essential of the modern critique is?
  people have forgotten how to
disagree, let alone levy a dialogue -
       trapped in their solipsistic-monologues,
i've seen this countless of times:
how fiction has overpowered platonism,
notably in terms of style,
requiring dialogue...
              no, people these days don't
know how to disagree, let alone agree with
each other...
        it's a sad end of dialectics...
                      no one wants to disagree,
to later agree upon a disagreement...
   i'd be fine with that...
                  i don't ask that people agree
at the end of their discourse,
             but that they disagree,
  and with good deed due, can perhaps
disagree within themselves,
                     to then chance the spectacle
of agreement with someone else -
but people... have no time... to disagree...
they do what the english do:
  they joke...
                            and you know what i find
to be single-most important
"cardinal" sin? let's just call it:
   the papal sin:                   ridicule...
i can appreciate disagreeing -
   but when it comes to ridicule?
   did i tell that i used to collect swords?
  yeah, have a stash of them...
          one's a long hussar cavalry mean
*******, probably the height of
      an oompa loompa with blade alone...
within the dialectical dynamic i can appreciate
the fervour of agreeing & simultaneously
disagreeing...
    but when people turn to ridicule?
     that hussar cavalry sword comes
to mind, and aristophanes' head on it:
   in my regard, the equivalent of a white
flag of defeat:  i surrender! i surredner!
                             (bound to the kind of laughter
within the epitome of loci).

Autumn gone in the winter
Keep warm, nothing else will bring her
back, if only we can go back in time
we'll learn to forgive, never forget her life
Autumn gone in the winter
keep close, everything else will wither
when the time comes, closer than expected
we'll find ourselves, our pain ended.

It hurts to grow up, it hurts to stay
Struggle to survive, things don't remain the same
I see the violence, I see the hate, I see the pain
Another shot and others gone, it's just another day
Moving on, losing, it's confusing along the way
years gone by, all those around me change
the pressure is real, those fires untamed
we'll suffer in silence, our illness unnamed.

Autumn gone in the winter
Keep warm, nothing else will bring her
back, if only we can go back in time
we'll learn to forgive, never forget her life
Autumn gone in the winter
keep close, everything else will wither
when the time comes, closer than expected
we'll find ourselves, our pain ended.

kids grow up different around here
some kids grow into eternal fears
some come out alive, some without minds
harden their hearts, all to stay alive.
rewind, rewind, rewind.
if I could change a thing, they wouldn't stay in line.
tough love comes in tough times.
tell me yours, I'll tell you mine.
we'll heal together and find ourselves divine.

Autumn gone in the winter
Keep warm, nothing else will bring her
back, if only we can go back in time
we'll learn to forgive, never forget her life
Autumn gone in the winter
keep close, everything else will wither
when the time comes, closer than expected
we'll find ourselves, our pain ended.

when will things get better? I don't know
not anytime soon with this status quo
I wanna see my community heal and grow
not have them deal with ordeals and go
I don't want gentrification, miscommunication
love and support, it's my motivation
what are the implications of being left in this situation
a small population without consolation, left in suffocation.

Autumn gone in the winter
Keep warm, nothing else will bring her
back, if only we can go back in time
we'll learn to forgive, never forget her life
Autumn gone in the winter
keep close, everything else will wither
when the time comes, closer than expected
we'll find ourselves, our pain ended.

An icy storm howled and groaned about me, whipping the trees to and fro in its insatiable wrath. Sheets of rain poured from the murky sky, a torrent of water and wind pummeling my aching body.
I felt so small as I stood in the midst of the raging storm. So small and useless.
What was I but a mere ant, an insignificant worm in the face of this world? How could anything as small as I carry a ripple?
The world would still wage its wars, blind to the evil it was; injustice and oppression practically embroidered into the fabric of existence. Rulers would still dictate and control. The poor citizens would suffer in their poverty as the higher up drowned in their riches. Those who stood up and spoke out against the nobles were persecuted for questioning authority.
And so it seemed to me as if nothing we ever did would make a difference.
Lowering lashes glimmering with dew, I let the rain wash over me.  It seemed an ironic time for a storm, and I wondered if maybe the world was crying—lamenting over what humanity had come to.
“Why are you standing out here amid the rain?”
I took a ragged breath before turning around, blinking water out of my eyes. Eleanor stood behind me, leaning against a jagged pillar and studying me with an inscrutable expression.
“I thought I’d find you out here.” She said and pushed herself off the rock to face me. Her curly dark mass of hair was plastered to her face, and her fierce hazel eyes glimmered with condensation. “Moping won't get you anywhere you know.”
I shook my head at her. “I’m not moping.”
It was easy, easier than it should have been to slip on the masquerade, to look as if there was not a care in the world. The recent ordeals had left me drained and numb.
Eleanor threw her head back and laughed loudly. “I know moping the moment I see it. Now, spit it out.”
I clenched my fists in the pockets of my thick coak. “I am simply debating the best course of action to take from here.”
She grinned humorlessly. “You little liar. I see right past your guise down into your soft little heart. You can't-fool me, Flynn, I’ve seen more in this harsh world than someone twice my age.”
I tried to push the smoldering anger away, but her words sparked an inferno. She had no idea, no idea, of what I have gone through. How dare she make rash assumptions off of her own feeble experiences?
“You know nothing of what I have endured,” I said quietly, eyes flashing as I met her gaze.
Eleanor took a few steps closer until she was nose to nose with me. I could count every freckle on her bronze skin, every eyelash.
“You don’t sit around waiting for things to get better, you do something about it.” She whispered fiercely. “The world won't change itself, things won't just automatically get better. Everything that lasts takes time.”
Eleanor turned around and faced the setting sun; the sky lit up with the hues of the sunset. Her silhouette composed an impressive figure against the horizon, glistening with raindrops from the dull drizzle that now swept over the distant mountains.
“Someday,” she breathed, “you won't have to hide.”
I stared at her, enraptured at the quiet strength that overtook her features as she gazed out into the distance.
Eleanor twisted around again, her face somber. “Someday the world will accept you for who you are. But don’t wait for that day, don’t wait up for them—beat them to it and accept yourself now.”
A small beam of trembling sunlight entered into the suffocating darkness, thawing away at the ice that had slowly taken over within. I felt something I had not felt in a long time.
Hope.
Overwhelming in its promise and almost tangible to the imagination. I knew it was far away, farther than the length of the stars and back. And though everything was against me, though I would be met with opposition and suffering—would anyone else raise their voice for change?
I opened my eyes and found them full of the sun. “To an new dawn.”
Eleanor flashed her teeth in a voracious grin, her eyes full of promise. “To a new future.”
I held my breath at the words I would say; terrified my wish would disappear once uttered aloud. “To a world where those born of darkness, can shine just as bright.”

-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-

Nightmares are always there
Behind my eyes, everywhere.
They are not fictional;
Nor are they mystical.
They have no dungeon-lair.

Nightmares each time I sleep
In my mind, they lurk and creep.
Suffocatingly real;
Non-fiction ordeals.
Too much to bear, awake I weep.

he calle me a warrior
just because i lived a life
harder than his

others commented
that's the easiest recipe of being a warrior

and here i am thinking
they have not even lived  through my struggles
neither they've faced my ordeals
nor felt my pain

how they have a right
to just pass words
that will stab like little needles
on my existence

making me stand as a question'
in front of everyone's eyes
where my answers will be treated as invalid
even before i will say them

that's not a warrior in their eyes
but a girl whose moves is out of their calculations
they just see me as nothing
and want me to believe that too

sadly, i am not easily influenced by someone's words
as i had so many problems to learn from
what was best for me
and i would call myself the queen who is skilled
in turning girls like me into an invlaid format
they can't decode

I am making a wall that is so much
I cant break it down, on my own
this is my mistake and I cant change it
I tried my best to tear this apart
but my best is so worse

Ive been hopeless, no where else to go
Is there an open door for me to go in?
Take this ways, Im so vulnerable
When I am alone and with the crowd
I end up with tears at night
And praying facedown to the floor

This heart is always thinking of you
In my dreams, you are there
Sometimes you are annoyed of me
Just like in reality
And it breaks my heart
I woke and I ask myself

Why are you so selfish?
You are always thinking of that
Many people were telling you to stop
but are you listening to them?
This will carry you to great deliverance

Its been too long since Ive been here
Im so anxious of the future
So curious that never wanted to lose my affection
Because of this self-centeredness of myself
I cant talk with you personally
My tongue never produced a word
There is no victory in my way
It condemns me day after day

My time was consumed by this feeling
I thought that this is over
but as I walk towards holiness
Its getting so hard and heavy
I cant defeat this fiery ordeals

They are everywhere
I can sense there presence
God, you know my heart
If this is love
Teach me how to prepare
If this is not the thing that You suppose to be with me
Let the root of this infatuation vanish
Let it sink into the ocean floor
Or bury it into the ground
So that I will never put to shame

Hair gray, glistening with wisdom.
Wrinkles carved by life’s ordeals.
Eyes blinded by decades of vigilance.
Ears failing from listening to our distress.
Hands shaking, frail from lifting spirits.
Legs aching for always leading the way.
Throat sore from hours of discourse.
Back curved, encumbered by our worries.
Heart swollen with unconditional love.

Preferred  are those conversations accompanied by cigarettes and splifs and misfits sitting where they knew they always should.

There comes a time when cleared minds realize conversations of personal problems and unified disfunction's exposed feels right. As though your ideas of crazy themes and wandering dreams are unified.

Listening to the good die young by billy Joel blasts as slow motions and hand gestures toss stories and emotions like cracking the binding of a books once judged by unpredictable covers.

I connect with people who's skin has sunken ink that tell stories people think need to stay forever by vibrating needles. Piercings on questionable parts like on noses that drip from other kinds of recreationals. that give bad impressions to those cliche stereotyped people. But if we're all the same species then how do you begin to distribute labels?

I believe there are certain people that smoke cigarettes. That need a release knowing risk that with each pack your buying death. But living larger then safe is easily the option that's best.

To fly free through roads just watching others live lives and in  split seconds build their story lines. Like that feeling of peoples first expressions when first meetings happen and the only conversations are those of eyes that frigidly glance back. When you realize everyone is there for same reason. But curiosity is the catalyst for judgement and we have all done that.

I believe there are layers to the soul. Not like designated  pieces and parts but one giant relation that we all hold. It's that common beating of trapped souls kept in that bone cage our chest mold. Each chest holds humanities most sacred vessel so how come so many people turn out damaged and evil when born starting with the same soul?

I'd like that think that our common bind is that we have the ability to breathe. And even when things get crazy and life gets messy and that ability to breathe starts to feel more like your starting to choke at least it's sign your still apart of this earth as a whole and not already six feet deep...

There's something beautiful in the fact your mind makes you who you are.. Or do you make up your mind? Are we all strung up like puppets being pulled on premeditated strings? Or are we morally free willed  where fate is created based off every individuals caged vessels desires and whatever subjective shoulders conscious ends up deciding.

It's funny to me that people have angelic and demonic whispers on opposite shoulders because I believe that they are one in the same. That in reality our conscious is one unified subjective subconscious who has free will to take a ride with the devil but if they chose to live a live of angelic routine the heart gets hurt and your heads to blame.

Because the heart wants what it does but the mind always knows what's best. But what if together they worked the same and the explanation for decisions being made, are based purely on happiness with consequential benefits determined by what's locked inside that bone cage.

When does choosing between what's right and what's easy ever stop giving beatings to the beating vessel a rest.

Because I have never seen them coincide for most instances there's always that contradicting choice. The one you know you've already chosen but if you want everyone to win you will have to personally sacrifice happinesses of the real meanings of life.

The ones that hurt the most but are so addictive they are mentally deadly to any head that's got a heart full of selfish wishes that claw to fulfilled within me.  

Regret is a funny concept because it can always be avoided, that intuition is real and if any instance of doubt or denial is present during, before, or after these ordeals,
you know your accepting the warm rush of blood make it's way home and suddenly your head turns numb and cold. And the only thing to do is uncage that spirit and let it go.

And these constant battles of war and peace have never in history coincided it seems. But what makes you the winner or the losing team? In reality it all doesn't matter in seems, because things happen and If you chose regret and if that's true happiness should anyone put there's souls intentions to rest?

Because hurting are those who believe they would  rather  let everyone else win because being themselves would ultimately hurt others.. And its conclusions like these, they say, you just cannot win. But I grew up when I realized life was really about how your pawn is played. And let's be honest,  Humans have always been the most dangerous game. And ultimately everyone wants to win in a way, but their victory prevents others from reaching their souls restless place.

So this circle of life is that of our species chosen shape. Which makes a lot of sense in minds bigger state.

And I guess that's cool because anyone could say, that we do live condensed on a circle floating in an infinite space, where its never ending and confusingly contradicting , kind of common to that comparison about humanity's constant levitation around mixed messages that mind and heart keep sending.

But in the end were all just spinning. Rotating on sanities axis and gravitationally pulled one way, because that's the way the stars aligned. And that seems quite similar to humanities battle of premeditated fate. So free wills just another excuse for regret shunned away?

But after your feet get planted back in the ground and your mind doesn't feel like it's spinning, that's when you know your true conscious is winning. And even if I there's regret as minds price to pay, let your heart benefit from not caring what decisions it's made.

And for once don't settle by locking it back away in its cage.

See ribs have have rows of entrapment like cell doors and windows but don't they say if god doesn't open up the door he will a window? I think your heart needs to only be able to see through what it can handle. And your mind only cages that soul of questioned decisions away, because it's the one that hurts in longevity and gets damaged with mental repercussions in your head that will always stay. And hearts vessels only know what they've seen through the cage. It will be bruised but like clockwork healing starts and familiar tempting feelings once again become craved.

And anxiety of memories are sent to the brain when the heart wants to start over and relies on its mind to be brave. And sometimes that deceivingly beautifully ****** devil, on your shoulder distributes desired deadly sins your mind is banned from letting it's sweet heart discover.

Which is when it knows it's time to come back down from that beautiful risky heart thumping heaven and evaluate  the damage you have done. And so now I see why hearts and minds don't get along. They desire each others abilities of their methods to stay strong...

I want you for an eternity; I have faith in you when no one else really does.
It’s because people don’t know you like I do.
You have revealed about yourself in front of me
I know that even if at times when you fall short, I will be there to help you out.
I do not fear the struggles of life. Whatever it takes, we are going to face the ordeals of life together.

Schizophrenia is a private cell
Reserved for just one in the depths of Hell,
A place without an exact location,
A damnation found in desperation

For an escape from feeling trapped inside
The spot you sought refuge and tried to hide
From vicious voices, all disembodied.
Solitude's precious, but also oddly

Does enough to make you feel too alone.
Perhaps you'll miss some voice's monotone
Droning that lectured, but still seemed to care,
Though some of those voices wrought your despair.

You mustn't forget some voices are real,
And yet, those can often cause your ordeals.

Wasteful wallowing in a crumbling hollow dwelling
Obfuscating the obvious problems, scared from telling

A distracted dubious damnation,
I have craved temptation into
cramped every solitary sensation
and turned them to them sins, too.

So I fantasise, and rampantly
Agonise the logic in my mind
I dream of worlds without proportion
and engagements of moral absorption.
Til' I saturate my soul with images
of endless time and space.

In a stale solitary dimension
I weave tales of honorary mention
but forget their ascensions.

Broken wishes of impossible ambitions
With uncultural and isolated renditions
Of self-indulgent ordeals.

Brought upon by uncontrollable feels
and reeled beyond sense into the light
where my mind cannot be healed.

Innocuous wishes shape the magic of my prayer, raising hands to absolute ordeals. Flooded thirst climbs high to nirvana rattling. Cross of prayers vanish the ethereal evanescence of human comprehension. No living being can detect the nest of my secluded harmony, nor Gods of any faith can kiss with their perception the soft outrage of blooming spirits that dwell inside my treasured charm.

It was the SS/country Great Britain.
That sailed the wintry sea;
And Prime Minister May had taken her people,
To bear her company.

Blue and brown were their eyes, all paid their tax,
Their cheeks coloured from a hard working day,
And their *******/chests swollen as the hawthorn buds
That proudly produce in the month of May.

The Prime-Minister she stood at her lectern,
As vile words left her mouth,
She preached that UK's world citizens are
no citizens, neither here, nor West nor South.

Then up and spake an expert Sailor,
Had sailed the European Mains,
"I pray thee, put to yonder port,
For I fear Brexit' ruinous hurricanes.

"Last year the pound had a golden ring,
And t'row the pound will flee!"
But the Prime-Minister she only sought strife,
And a scornful laugh laughed she.

Colder and colder grew the UK's economy,
A crisis grew from North to East;
Family businesses fell first to Tory hedge-fund swines,
Evil wizards not bothered in the least.

Down came the crisis' storm, and smote amain,
SS Great Britain in its strength;
Its poor crew shuddered and paused; hurt by all this greed,
The once United Kingdom leaped across its length.

"Come hither! come hither! Scotland, Wales,
Northern Ireland, do not tremble so;
For I can weather our enemies' ordeals,
That ever they will throw.

PM May palmed the people in, telling them lies
Barking fake news on EU enemies' blasts;
She invented tales about immigrants,
Wishful thinking it would save money vast.

"Oh Mother May! I hear our EU friends' phones ring.
O say, what it may be?"
"''These 're false calls on shark-bound mainland coasts!" -
And May knowingly steered to crash UK's economy.

"Oh Mother May! I hear psalms of  Brittany's nuns,
O say what may it be?"
"Some German Lorelei fiends, which only live
In that wretched foul euro-zone economy".

"Oh Mother May! I hear EU's peaceful plights,
O say what may it be?"
But Mother May answered never a word,
A frozen corpse was she.

Lashed to number 10, all stiff and stark,
With her face turned to the skies,
The Big Ben clock light illuminated banking blizzards
On her fixed and glassy eyes.

Then UK's people clasped their hands and prayed
That saved they might be;
And they thought of prophetical politicians who could still the waves,
That wrecked Great Britain's economy.

And fast through twilight months dark and drear,
Through the whistling greed of the superrich,
Like a tweeted Trump, Great Britain wept
Towards the reef of Farage's glitch.

And between the financial rust
Cries came from the people;
It was the sound of their trampled trust,
On a bed of lies and Johnson's creeple.

The loan sharks were right on the people's toes,
The country drifted a dreary wreck,
And whooping profits for the rich
were cheered by th'entire cabinet.

The country broke where the white and fleecing waves
Created poverty in the neglected North,
But the cruel Russians, they gored her side
With hackers killing its democratic berth.

The people shocked as British cool subsided,
When the NHS went overboard;
The once Great Britain, she stove and fell apart,
**! **! the bankers roared.

Years later, on a bleak winters' day,
EU's UK-citizens, always welcomed, stood aghast,
To see the form of old Great Britain fair,
Battered down by self-inflicted Tory blasts.

Destroyed NHS and infrastructure wrecked the health
of its citizens, tears filled their eyes,
Rivers their homes, with flood prevention ignored,
Countryside and cities drastically demised.

Such became the wreck named Great Britain,
Doomed by alt-right and the superrich!
Reason save us all from a death ordained
On the reef of Farage's glitch!

Sometimes when I’m sad,
The solution is easy;
I’ll just lather on lipstick
Or put The Beatles on repeat.

A long drive to clear my head,
A good book to ease my mind,
As it turns out contentment
Isn’t always hard to find.

But sometimes when I’m sad,
The solution seems shaded.
I can’t get thoughts together
And my rationale is jaded.

Then suddenly I’m sinking
With a truck on my chest,
In the middle of the night
When my mind disconnects.

The most frightening part
Of the nights I spend awake
In a panic, is that they start
As the sadness I can take.

So had I put that album on
Or gone to drive when I got off,
Maybe I’d have slept tonight
Instead of peeling myself up off

The kitchen floor at five am,
And showering the black out
From underneath my eyes
And dragging myself throughout

The coming day like it was nothing.
I’m an idiot to treat these ordeals like they’re nothing.
Though I have no idea at all how to stop them,
In reality they are very much something.