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You live with eyes closed
Walk with an arrogant stride
You keep your hands clean
And your nose held high
There's a whole world screaming
But you just walk on by
And ignore the world's trouble
The burdens it bares
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

There's racism
And sexism all over the globe
Poverty, human trafficking
And still your shoulder is cold
Drug cartels, corrupt politicians
Murderous rapists without any souls
And you're just as guilty if I may be so bold
You just sit there and stare
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

You're busy chasing the American dream
A glorious promise riches and liberty
But the hand that feeds and you wanna shake is giving the bird to you
While it taxes our rights and confiscates our freedom of speech
And you take it like a ******* gimp
As it keeps our inspiration and aspirations out of reach
You should stand up and fight for what's yours
And I urge you to grow a pair
Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

You have faith in the higher-ups
In our country, in God we trust
It's all a bust
You must protect your privileges
And help in our progression
Equality for and freedom
But you chose instead to be ignorant
And see a society and not a civilization

       -Tommy Johnson
Get a higher education
Go to school
Get a degree in something
No, don't be a fool
Milk the cash cow
Be a work mule
To find a job even with your doctorate
To find employment, is something rare

       -Tommy Johnson

But you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

Terrorists instill a sense of fear
So we police the world
Oppress and occupy
Bullets, bloodshed and grenades are hurled
And back home we outsource
As history unfurls
A time of economic recession
And unjust warfare

And of course you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

They tricked, murdered and ***** the natives
For all this land
You can say "you wouldn't be here if they didn't"
Well, I feel guilty for living here because they betrayed their fellow man
Then they had those of darker skin as slaves
The decision to free them caused both sides to **** each other
And in the end the chose to segregate
Tell me the equality in that there

Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care

People call each other *******,
*******, spics, chinks they say
A world that loves you if you got social status
But chastise you if your gay
But it's gotten so much better
Looking back on yesterday
But you haven't helped, you just go along
You're views are still parochial, and I'm giving you a disgruntled glare

Because you dare not interfere
You ignore it because you're scared
It isn't your problem so you don't care


You see no beauty in this world
It's like your not even a part of it
You have no idea whats going on around you
You only look out for yourself
You contribute nothing
No ideas
No creations
No light

You just leave the rest of us in darkness
To be destroyed by corruption, hatred, misunderstanding and doubt
While you become just another pawn
Another cog
Another customer
To be accounted for
You are just nameless number
People like you are the reason change takes so long
Open your eyes!

the year is two thousand and fourteen and something isn't right

maybe it's related to the fact that there is no more history on the history channel

and the only thing the discovery channel wants to investigate
is the depth of our bank accounts

the word 'integrity' has become archaic. obsolete. unnecessary, simply, because nobody has any anymore.

whatever happened to learning for the sake of learning?

who was the sick greedy ******* who decided that it was okay to charge money for knowledge?

our youth are being put into ******* for the knowledge necessary to survive in this society

of inequality.

in the 21st century slaves toil away in classroom as well as coal mines.

and those who dare to resist the path of post-modern peonage laid before them are doomed to a life of minimum wage mundanity or constant criminal risk.

there is something to be said about the quality of our reality if we are constantly seeking mind altering substances to escape it.

i too have become a slave. and a large portion of those who read this message have as well.

our souls signed away at the dotted line, sealed within great paper phylacteries adorned with the sinister sigils of Sallie Mae.

the chains of our debt will never let go of us. even upon death our progeny will have to hoist our burdens on their shoulders.

and for those of you who know not of our *******, i bid you welcome, like a Brother greater than I once said:

"welcome to the united snakes, land of the thief, and home of the slave. the grand imperial guard, where the dollar is sacred and power is god."

if your total net worth rests below a cool few million i suggest you stay away.

silly me. silly me, silly me, silly me. after all this country was built on generation after generation of genocide, **** and fraud, codified into the laws we hold so tight and so high, how naive was i to even expect civil discourse and equality from a naturally sinister state?

cloaked in the fog of pure ignorance we the people paradoxically bear the weight of our fraudulent federal government on our backs while simultaneously parasitically depend upon it.

parapets and gaudy domiciles all built with the blood sweat and tears of the disenfranchised. soft music composed of the screams of children dying from predator drone hellfire missiles lilts through the hallways.

news flash: the illuminati and the reptilian overlords are not trying to control your mind.

this is not about pineal gland calcification and third eyes but about the systematic disenfranchisement and subjugation of every man woman and child in this unfortunate nation.

they impose harsh sentences on small time drug crimes and outsource our only sources of economic stability.
left with no upward mobility, we then resort to any means necessary to simply survive.

'the world is your oyster.' they say. and they conveniently fail to mention the fine print which emphatically states that you may only possess the oyster shucking knife if you are white, male, and upper middle class.

this is not about checking privilege and white guilt. this is about the way that this ****** up world works. about the sinister cogs turning behind the scenes.

and if you dare raise your voice in resistance you'll find yourself staring at cinderblock walls, spools of barbed wire, reinforced steel bars, and armed guards for the rest of your sad life. your enclosed inmate existence making the coffers of the prison-industrial complex even deeper.

some say we should raise our fists instead and fight. and i say to them good luck fight the world's most technologically advanced military in its own home territory. Guerilla warfare and armed millitias stand about as good of a chance and gorillas armed with sticks and stones when the enemy possesses satellites that can see your face from orbit.

and i hope you don't mine being despised by the public of the modern world when you're slapped in the face with that dreadful catch-all term that is 'terrorist'.

but we can't just sit here and let the vines of greed asphyxiate our vitality away.

so herein lies the eternal question that i pose to you:

what are we to do?

I. Prologue

Splash words across: images on canvas.
Before Abraham was, I am:
the cubist of poets. Mangled and tangled;
Here thoughts emerge, in reverent perspectives.
The real world: how many dimensions,
depends on who you ask; Monotone
in my unidimensions. Filter. Baritone.
Coffee-brown is the best colour around.

II. Love

Here we sit by two-arms distance. To north,
to south. Facing opposing poles.
There is an attraction.

Here are images from the industrial world
gone post-industrial. Broken commodes.
Outsource your misery here. The sky can afford
a hole from on here. As long as
there's none in my shoe.

Sometimes, I roll over in waves.
Sometimes, you wave over.
Questions still hidden in the corners.

III. Peace

All that's passed remains flickering
green like the wireless router
silently at nights: recover, play it over.

Flush it all up. Splash it all around. Cubism.
Art nouveau. Portmanteau. Now fruck the world.
Neon shades rippling through the smoke
riding out dancing to metal clang;
Crazy laughter like that of an empty skull:
smoke the pipe, brother,
spread the peace around.  2013, stupid.
Idealism died in 1967. And many times since.
Repeats always a farce.

IV. Spirit

Only one man died for the poor.
Who called the dead to life.
All other stories are about barons and hedgehats:
while the millions were ground over
to oil the world. While they roiled the world.
How the poor die under the heels
of those that claim to love that man?
Disagree? Drone. Agree? The throne.

Yes, we can, brother, we can defeat this
****** corruption. Brother,
be not corrupt.

V. Prospect

A sigh of disapproval, soft in sleep.
I come and lie, back to your back,
waiting for love to seep over.

Yes, we can, brother, we can overcome
bigotry vile. Brother,
say not, mine, the only way ever.

Happy lovers day. Shout out aloud,
peans more to the meek women's rights.
Forget not, there's some in your sights.

Two arms' distance is about the right in the day.
There are two faces seen in this bubble,
formed at the mouth of the tooth paste tube.
Peace to the world, every morning after.
Every little home by home.

Inspired by Meg Cranston's Artist for President
(http://www.uniteddivas.com/megcranston/megpresident.html)**

We assert that there is a youth culture that is different and separate from all other cultures and that our culture is governed by principles which the aged population finds peculiar or offensive.

We are tired of being labeled.
We are tired of being segmented.
We are tired of hearing old people talk about us.
We are tired of being the respondents to your 20 city questionnaire.
We are done with being ignored.

We are sick of 1980s spandex.
We are sick of your Top 40 hits on a compact disc.
We are sick of your rom-coms and big budget fantasy sci-fi sequels.
We are sick of 60 billion ad messages being hurled from satellites in outer space.
We are done with being disappointed.

We demand the right to change everything.
We demand the right to create our own words.
We demand the right to define what is cool in the morning.
We demand the right to re-define what is cool in the evening.
We are done with being told to follow.

We reserve the right to be elitist.
We reserve the right to choose our heroes.
We reserve the right to create jobs that never existed before.
We reserve the right to outsource, open-source and crowdsource everything and all.
We are done with your rigid ways.

We condemn the wars that you started.
We condemn the poverty and hunger you created.
We condemn your irresponsibility in ignoring our dying planet.
We condemn the forces of greed that keeps an honest man from climbing the income brackets.
We will fix the mess you left behind.

This is for school kids
This is for college students
This is for young professionals
This is for the young artist who shares his creations on DeviantArt
This is for the young blogger who dreams of being a travel journalist
This is for the podcaster who is on her way to become a successful RJ
This is for the YouTube user who dreams of her own television show and feature film
This is for the photography enthusiast who spends his pocket money on a Flickr Pro Account
This is for the opinionated Twitter-for-Blackberry addict destined to become a Twitter celebrity. (Even we don’t know what that means!)
This is for the coding guru who gifts his geek friend a mobile gaming app based on Dungeons & Dragons for his birthday. Yes that is cool...for now.

This is youth culture

Heart pounding nonstop 

Feeling I ran sixteen miles

Can't seem to decifrate 

Where your affection lies



Querying who am I 

Long term silence prevails

Things are better off left unsaid



We used to share friendship

Now there's nothing left

Wondering where will you travel

After all this ravel



Observe along your space

Recall your whereabouts

Back when you were just 

A young teenager



You had company,

Someone who cared


That feminine corpse,

Would outsource every fiber of her soul 

To see you whole

Sadly you saw her as

Another to add list of friends role


Meanwhile her heart beat off adrenaline 

And nothing more



Retaining secrecy,

Devoted to destiny,

I'll exit knowing there's nothing else to do,

But to patiently wait for a propitious finale.

If one is prepared to believe the Bible
rather than prosperity gospel
from Church & Mamon Inc.
then it's plain to perceive
that the mark of the beast
could cost one's place in God's Kingdom
so do please explain Mr Megachurch Mogul
why your bottom line reflects money
rather than shares in the Kingdom of Heaven

Do you intend to outsource the mark ?
so business can continue as usual ...
will you partner with the bank
of the beast who's about due

Must Yeshua bring out His whip again ?
before you take Him at His Word
and stop misapplying His tithing law
like cursed, charismatic pharisees
that keep the despairing
in ******* and tickle ears
with falsehoods rather than help them
trim their lamps and get ready
for the wedding feast of the Lamb

Seems the great 'falling away'  referred to
in 2Thes2v3 in truth is not rapture after all
but failing churches built on sand

what are we doing in afghanistan? iraq? is there good reasons to risk lose so many brave people’s lives? why since 1980’s do we outsource our jobs? what were we doing in vietnam? some shrewd people are making lots of money but why are we american people allowing it? what does this say about us? why do we give away lose best parts of ourselves? masochism? self-hatred or low self esteem? indifference? self-righteous ignorance? what? why can't we be good honorable country who make great stuff and aren't bossy? i don't understand what can we do to make peaceful harmonious planet?

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Let me write of the unknown
of the things we don't know
and have never been shown.

Like the string theory
do you agree?
If this space was put in place by invisible hand
and stars made to shine
by something divine
Why tie them up in a potage of science?

Where the sea meets its earth and where rainbows give birth
makes no difference to me.
It's enough that I see that it's so.
Where do Angels tread and
where can the bread of heaven be found?
These questions I ask as I bask in reflections
of someone's midsections in the
operating rooms where I peer hard to see
and ask again
'Is this the makings of me'

A universe without an end
e-mails that we never send.
These pending posts play host to me.

In one of ten million galaxies
It seems quite odd to make a rod and beat ourself
with what we do not know.
Whether the plan is to grow so big and become the giants we never were
or to be so bright that we outstrip and outsource our own dying light
and gain.
Is all the same to me I do not care.
It is enough to know that I am here and out there
somewhere
a table is set
A game is played and I will get
what I deserve.

I couldn’t do for my mother what I did for my dog
By Samuel L Temple

Trip One
The phone rang soft, as it is want to do
answering it I found the quiet voice
of my dear mother. It was November
and a chill not only filled the air, but
also my very being shook with the new
information I was being given.
2013, yet another way
for me to hate Thanksgiving had begun.
It was only a few days after we
discovered my old lab had cancer too.

Falling to my knees I wept, but only
for a moment, I realized my wife
and I had already been researching
a cure. A brand new life was unfolding.
We had both the material and the
know-how to produce a new cancer cure.
His name was Rick Simpson and he was our
hero. Youtube and websites gave the news
and we watched eager and with bated breath.

Being an outdoor grower gives one the
access needed to produce large amounts,
being part of a co-op gave me the
ability to outsource all my needs.
A plan was made by the skin of my teeth,
and we set out trying to save mother
from the scourge that kills indiscriminate.
At the same time our old black lab, Jimmy
was losing weight and growing foot tumors;
we were embarking on a two-front fight.

It was chilly that late Fall afternoon
As we loaded the old Nissan pick-up
And headed down south to California
We left meds for the dog with our sonny
and loaded pounds, sealed, into blue crates,
filled the tank and bought some food for the trip
and said a silent prayer as we began
this epic journey to save moms life.
The sun shone through the clouds and I felt warmth
…would be a while before I felt again.

It was over two full mountain passes
when the fuel filter popped, leaving us stuck,
in Medford…a little cash but no car
my dear Auntie was the call we made first
and she, as always, wanted to help us
so she wired some dollars and we got
ourselves a rental Avenger that day
the journey recommenced and South we went
stopping briefly by the Bay for a friend
who donated pounds to the cause at hand

For another thousand miles we rode
one arm stretched South, and the other behind
we avenger-ed our way to the badlands
near Goat mountain, butted against a base
we found a small white oasis of love
inside, a frail, sickly, cancerous mom
wrapped in a blanket all smiles and pain
my dear sweet mother extended her hand
skin draped skeleton with liver spots bright
and hazel eyes shining with love for me

Small talk subsided and so we began
to encourage mother to look beyond
fifteen years, Narcotics Anonymous
and all the kool-aid she could ever drink
had so corrupted her processes that
she was unsure about starting a new cure
I tentatively brought out the product
handed one gelatin capsule over
and I watched her swallow pure cannabis
extracted with grain alcohol en masse'

Pounds of marijuana stuffed into pills…
“More than one whole gram ingested daily
and don’t you ever, ever miss a dose
you think you must take chemotherapy
so please just smoke after the appointments
be sure to get so much rest and don’t stop
try to eat and be a little active,
but rest is key to healing…and mother
these instructions are not for fun, you see
I honestly believe this can cure you”

We visited through the weekend and left
heading up the interstate to Oregon
hopeful and tired, we held hands and talked
inconsequential nothings passed chapped lips
as both of us rode home deep in new thoughts
thinking back to the grey shade of her skin
and the light that still shown strong in her eyes
I began to feel a pride in what
we were trying to do, and for her faith
that my mother placed in me that cool day.

Trip Two

I sat at the edge of my bed, thinking
we were about to take a winter drive
I had rented a nice 2012
Chevy Malibu, but there was no beach
only the forethought of desert sand dunes
and the ole military base fence line
mom’s pet coyotes would be at the trough
and her beautiful pits would be lounging
all I could do was softly pray for her
whispering under my breathe, let me see.

In vast style and comfort we headed
south again. Stopping at the Bay, again
getting product from my friend, yes, again
and driving down the I-5, cruise control.
Fast food and the ever watchful radar
were the order of the trip as miles
disappeared and the ribbon of road crept
beneath tires stretched to infinity
soon the Tehachapi’s gave way to sand
rocky desert with Joshua tree stands

The coolness of early winter did blow
sending particulates and shivers down
the arms and legs of my wife as we sat.
Looking at the small white cottage, hoping.
She came to the door with twenty more pounds
and the smile I remembered from my youth
she spoke of lower counts and feeling good
and increased appetite and acceptance
fifteen years, narcotics anonymous
and finally she could see for herself.

Marijuana had more to offer than her
than just ‘high’ to hide from reality
it was medicine, possibly the best
the world could offer. It blends perfectly,
with the endocannabinoid system
boosting the body’s ability for
fighting off cancer and disease. And now
there was a real chance at saving her.
Tears were shed as we all hugged and smiled,
kisses and proclamations of success.

We packed slowly that morning, feeling worn
Fifteen hundred miles lay before us
With Monday work looming after a long
Sunday drive. It was in Barstow that I
decided I wanted to show Tina,
Reno… so we took the 395
north, the Serria-Nevada’s loomed large.
Working within the constraints of time, we
seemed to be right on schedule, Reno
by four, and at home eight hours later,
it was about that time I noticed the
snow level was getting closer each mile.

It was in the early evening when first
they came; little specks of snow, delicate.
Softly falling on my clean windshield
This moment matched the snow along the road
reached our car, a sinking feeling began.
We drove easily over the first pass
Just a shade over 7000 feet high,
the snow,  falling faster, I heard a sob.
Glancing over I saw my wife huddled,
face to the car door, crying quietly.

Creeping in like a child wanting one
More drink

Oh how I stand for what I believe,
Oh how I falter to my knees.
Only these still timeless trees
Understand what it means to see.
Oh how we amble through the forests
With our high hopes and our torches.
These whispers and these forces
Through this grapevine could outsource us.
I have seen the magnified soul
and I no longer need to be whole.
But will I love forever more?
Or will the torch burn out before
My simple supposed perfections
Recollect their misconception.
They'll take back what was theirs,
and trade their souls for prayers.
How minds shift past what shows innate fear
And strive to be safe from retrospective tears.

if sleep is the cousin of death
why does it seem so infinitely appealing?

crimes of passion committed against the moon
when searching in the wrong realm
there is an urge to outsource your remaining affections

scars will never get through to you
how things are or what they were
my scars will never see through you as i want them to

with the sun comes heat
with the moon comes cold
unity of opposites
causes stagnation

infiltration of the human condition
knives with dull blades

save me
but do not help me
ever

That's how it is lately.
Not getting any time off.
Grabbing each elusive line.
Searching out the exact word.
Images swamping my head,
so many and so fast that
soon I'll need an image sifter.
Barely time to eat.
Sleep at a premium.
Exercise neglected.
Shack becoming a sty.
Cat neglected and angry.
Never get outside anymore.
I love it, but
can I outsource any of this?
  ~mce

If you could do anything.
I'd catch you plucking at the twilight.
Dipping you contour brush in nebulae, you'd paint your eyeline with a skyline...  You'd bejewel your accessories with quasars spinning in quartz's and supernova sapphires and... your eyes would shine with star light...

If you could do anything, You'd sequin your extremities with snowflakes. Pattern your skin with the shine from the sunrise and you'd refract yourself into the world around you. You'd dye you hair like the northern lights... Stand still in squalls just so you could emulate its animated shimmer. Against the back drop of the night you'd glimmer. But that wouldn't be enough... You'd go to any length drown your frame in beauty.

If you could do anything, You'd steal the sensation of rain drops disturbing roof tops and overdose on an feeling of shelter from the storm. All attempts to subdue your high would met with scorn.  You'd break off the part of you that caused concern. You'd burn the
service receipts of ever shoulder you'd had to cry on. You'd outsource your own insecurity. Any obscurity to your character would be shot dead on discovery. You'd invade your own humanity and pillage it of difficulty.

If you could do anything you'd bargain with calendar just for a couple more days to avoid doing something. You'd fashion your words into hurdles and litter the ground with more and more reasons to fall. You'd talk yourself out breathing because the threat of suffocation is less intimidating than the thought of persisting.

You are swallowed by your own ideals. You're drowning in the hope that you can live like a statue, staying ever beautiful as time crumbles away at your stone. You're begging for someone to save you from yourself.

If I could do anything. I'd pay you a token of gratitude for every imperfection you're still convinced I don't treasure. I'd write sick notes to your anxieties to inform them that you need time to get better, and in that time we'd strategize. Make a battle plans for a better life and show you how to fight.

This is your battle, Not mine. But it hurts to see you struggle, hurts to watch heartache eat away at your smile. Hurts to watch demons blow raspberries in the reflection of every tear drop.

It hurts to ask if you're okay...

Happiness is an inside job
Or so I've heard
It's so easy to get swept away with the surrounds
Like a leaf in autumn

It's an inside job because
The surrounds are broken
Better keep ourselves wrapped
Else we'll get cut

Happiness is an inside job
But it doesn't hurt to outsource it either
Happiness is an inside job
But sometimes it may come freely, externally
And who am I to say no.

They can’t see it, all that we do.
Its because of that, they just start to assume.
Truly, we do more than they could ever believe.
However, its in a way that they refuse to perceive.
They’ve called our generation lazy, crazy is that thought.
But our reactions are adaptive so its hardly our fault.
Our generation, we didn’t create this mess.
We’re working on a way to clean up in order to aliveate our stress.
Think about it,  we get criticized but what have we done.
As a majority, the problems around today were created when we were young.
Those in charge, are from the past generations.
Then they have the nerve to blame us for problems like inflation.
Accountability is a trait, that people refuse to embrace.
They hate how we act, as we try to survive when they created the place.
We live in a world, that our parents made , as theirs did before.
To hear there arguments against us is a reason to be sore.
We have more college graduates now, than ever in the past.
Grab that statement, and this is where we’ll get started.
They ask why we can’t find work after school, when they created the job market.
They outsource work, to save more in their pockets .
So now I will inform you, there’s power in knowledge.
We’re probably the smartest generation, because of what we’ve had to go through.
Technological advances, disease, war and the world changes so soon.
They can’t see it, yet they say our generation is doomed.  
But why do they get to lay claim on the demise of our platoon ?
Truth, it’s because their generation has created the lies, take the lesson.
When we call out  government policy,  they call us crazy just to mention.
but isn’t it hypocritical, when we were raised to always ask questions?
And the answers, well they won’t give us a minute or even an hour
So they hide the truth, so they can maintain power.
That generation, they don’t like our ideas.
So we’re continued to be oppressed, so they can’t confront their fears.
Stubbornness because they just don’t understand.
If one can’t evolve with time, it’ll be the extinction of man.
They always say, back when, the times were a lot more grand.
But it seems they grew up, without even thinking of a plan.
This plan, is one for the future, food for the thought,
Because this hell that’s been manifested, is where we’ve been brought.
Things were better then or so you claim,
For your parents were smart and they paved the way.
Us, we’re a new generation of minds,
We’ve moved forward, in hopes to leave you behind on the times.
A revolution is coming, and I say that proudly
At they end of the day, make sure you don’t start it without me.
All we want, is a chance to yet again make the pastures green.
If history repeats, like the wind blows on trees,
Its just going to be another thing
They Can’t See.
-Glenn Gonzales

i guess we get it from the hebrews,
as the stereotype goes -

i don't know how it happened -
i had a student bank account,
long after i graduated -
what is a student bank account?

2000 quid over-draft limit: interest free!
funny, isn't it?
i had that way past the expiry date,
i'd say way over fives years...

and i was titilating the -2000 quid
over a few months...
evidently some genius at the bank
noticed this, and said:
no no, you've have your little
student honemoon, time's up!

so i gets me a letter and says they'll
be reducing my expiry date to
500 quid below par -

    at nearly -2000 quid in my account,
what? what else?! panic...
so i calls them up and say:
look... i can get on the + scale,
i just need more time,
     i can't do it within your stated
authority...
nice lady, great conversation,
so she goes through the routine
questions...
   mobile phone? no.
  car? no.
    mortgage? no.
   how much do you spend on
luxury goods?
     em... i have all the "luxury" goods
i might ever need,
  take a philosophy book...
sometimes you find one that can last
you 2 ****** years to digest...

that's like picking pennies off
the pavement...

and, luckily, she said:
we'll reduce the overdraft limit by
200 pounds per month...
    last time i remember i hovered
above 800+ quid in my bank account...

obviously i have *******-of-a-drinking
habbit...
       but like now...
   i'm drinking, and tomorrow?
  i'll be drinking...
      and only in western europe is this
stigma of living with your parents...
look... mate... come here:
    jean-paul sartre (the nobel living
author for the novel nausea)?
he lived with his mother,
   had a ****-of-a-girlfriend and ******
university students...
plus he was cross-eyed...
    to ever think that i.v.f. and test-tube
babies pander this "non-existent"
disciplinary commune of "dear brothers
& sisters"....
   the current pupeteer in poland,
this pan kaczka? lives with his mummy...
he's not the president, he's not
the prime-minister... but he's playing
the one joker card in politics:
  he's probably 2 inches shorter than napoleon,
ugly as a ******* touristee mug
with the houses of parliament on it,
or a i (heart) london... whatever...
point being: he's playing the last remaming
card, it's not a joker card...
   it's the entry point of the last remaining
card: the schadenfreude card...
sorry... but this card does come into play
after certain limits are breached,
               but that's hopw ontology works.

i still remember that joke told by my glaswegian
english teacher (imagine
learning english from a pict) -
how was copper-wire invented?
               two scots arguing over a penny.

still... how i managed to get from a -2000 quid
dept and into the +, how did i manage
to ease the blow by allowing a gradual deflation
of the overdraft limit by charming
the bank lady...
      i do have to admit, one little
noughty secret... i found myself wake-akin
*****, i walked into my bank and talked
to the manager: i need you to increase my
overdraft limit, my great-grandmother has died
and i need enough money for travel expenses...

what really happened?
         oh... you know... 3 hours in a brothel...
10 quid entry, one-hundred-and-ten quid an hour...
and the perfume of bourbon everywhere...
   what?! sometimes a man has to do something
about his libido trapped in a strait-jacket...
girls don't mind...
                   i just kept minding that they
were bulgarian, and lied about being romanian
as if to imply that romanian girls
better outsource bulgarian girls in the trade...

      so this is me thinking:
you really want to argue "feminism"?
                go to a *******, see what she thinks,
namely? feminists abhor her trade,
they want to liberate them!
        the girls? far **** away from being liberated...
thrill ***... i heard one story of a friend
of her's being killed by a pundit...
      russian roulette they call it, i guess...
then this other ******* telling me:
oh, personally? i think that every woman should
try prostitution for a while...
   what's that beautician's word? poly...
                               poly-amorous?
oh hell... looks pretty...
                         does it feel "pretty" in practice?
not really...
                      there are really two
great dissatisfactions in the realm of prostitution:
1. not giving a man an ****** after
   one 1 of working the piston (sorry,
imagery and *** are always crass and laughable)
and (this will shock you)
2. actually receiving an ****** on the job...
oh boy, no. 2 is horrifying to them....
   it's not the job that debases the *******:
   it's an ****** with a pundit!
an ****** with client is probably as bad
as being ****** with an egg-beater,
          or an elephants trunk, or a horn of a rhino...
sorry... but that's how it's written...

+ lucky me, she just sighed an "ouch" -
   and said: you're only the second -
          and so out went my ***** envy:
    anyway, i was always more envious of beards;
taking notes in a sikh temple.

yeah... -2000 under par, and still i managed
to wriggle out...
      i swear one of my ancestors was
either jewish or scottish...
      smooches for that lady in the bank
that allowed me a gradual decrease in my
interest free overdraft limit.

Like Reggie DONE SAY...
It's Time For Some ACTION... !!!

The Use of... “ Wordplay “..
To Stand AGAINST Factions...

Political And Criminal...
By Use of Verse That's CRITICAL...
of Actions MORE Despicable...

Than Visuals In...
... " Unthinkable "... !!!!

TORTUROUS Methods...
By Those NOT As CLEVER...
As Those With VENDETTAS...
That Leave BOMBS In Letters... !!!!!!

Actions That SADDEN... !!!
When Infractions Happen...
It's Time For MORE Actions...  

That DO NOT FEED Sadness... !!!!!
Like Heads Being... “Captured”...
By... Radical Captors...

But In Truth Who Are They... !?!
Who The... Media Name... ?

DON'T Let Them Confuse... !!!
Take Time USE Your Brain... !!!

STUDY Their CLAIMS...
Like They INTERROGATE... !!!

... DON'T FORGET WATERGATE... !!!
And Contras Engaged By The US of A... !!!

Nicaraguan PAIN Was Americas' GAIN...
From Carter to Reagan Their Actions REMAIN...
Like Arms In Iran And C.I.A... Aims...

Their Actions Have Claimed...
MORE Murders Than SHANE...
Because Just Like Cowboys...
They Choose To Employ... !!!

BRUTALITY As....
Their FAVOURITE Envoy... !?!

Which Has PROVEN To BE...
How They Employ Police.... !!!
Whose Actions INDEED...
Lead To YES BRUTAL Scenes... !!!

That MANY BELIEVE...
Are Warranted PLEASE... !!!!!

Their Warrants Are WORTHLESS...
As Is Their Main Purpose...

To “ Protect and Serve “...
It Seems They PREFER...

To Act Like INSURGENTS....
Protectors Who HURT US...
And Make People NERVOUS... !!!!!

Their Rebel Should... “ Sekkle’ “...
And PUT DOWN That Metal.... !!!

INSTEAD Use Their MENTAL... !!!
When Their Job Gets STRESSFUL... !!!

And ACT MORE Like Generals...
Who Have The Credentials...
To Serve And Be Helpful
Instead of... Judgemental....

YES Actions Are NEEDED... !!!!
To KEEP People Breathing...
Instead of Just BLEEDING...

'Til Their Life Has....
.... NO MEANING.... !!!!!

This Verse Is An ACTION...
DEMANDING EXTRACTION...
of Acts By... ASSASSINS...

Who HOLD ON To Badges...
That CLEAR Their Infractions...
When Court Cases Happen...

It's Time For The People...
To Now... MOBILISE...
And HINDER The EVIL...

That... "Hides Behind Doors"...
of... Leaders and Boards...

of Those Who Outsource...
Young People To WARS...

Where TERROR's ENFORCED...

By Those Who They CLAIM...
Are Sent To... PLACATE...

And Put Peace In Place...
With GUNS On Their Waist... ?!?

Well I'd Rather Factor...
Wise Verse And Good Grammar...

And Use Them Like KLAXONS.....

For... POSITIVE...

...... " ACTION "...... !!!!!!

somehow drunk on language: a jazz impromptu...
nothing is ever to be orchestrated
or read from a script...
    
               and drinking besides...
               a manifesto on the sly?
               i hardly think: or rather:
               i hardly want to...
               compose one...

but i am sure to find some freedom... it's not
that much... it will do: working from the confines
of a dickensian paragraph is all the rage:
of all - but not these days, to be exact...

crumbs from the table of "muse"...
   it's a low-hanging fruit...
   something of the sort of worth than can only
   be worth: merely passing the time...
    by the mortal "adventure" circuit of events...
   this is me: not being present when
   beer, or flour... or ketchup...
   or mayonnaise... or the method of frying
   using oil... or poaching an egg...
   or the litany of respective spices
   being used in a curry...
  something grand... the moderns and their:
darwinistic slyly sliding into every narrative:
ideologues of darwinism...
who are they?
the history of man...
a back and forth:
starting with / from today...
   all the way back to... primodial times...
hunters: we were...
gatherers: we were...
foragers: oh for ****'s sake: WE WOZ!

i'm tired of the monkey veil...
               at least under the iron curtain...
something of freedom trickled through
the sieve, the cracks...
      where to? given this silicon curtain:
freedom on... zee fekkin mond?
apparently very little "history" happened:
or has had to happen...

there's only now: the 20th century...
   and then... nibbles of the 19th century's zenith
of... thomas ddison and george westinghouse,
alexander bell...
       but prior to all that...
the 19th century inventors and pioneers...
the 20th century pop culture...
all those ignorant ***** prior to the grand: "US"...

when darwinism: which is an ideology...
goes beyond biology... and... like leftism...
like communism... spreads its tentackles
into all things unattached with it...
i can hardly see a consolidation argument:
an omnipresent "needle work thread-through"...
am i in denial or do i simply think that
darwinism has robbed history of time...
as a linear motivation for moving forward:
by a poppy seed's volume per year...
on one's knees: up to climb mt. megiddo?

i am pretty sure darwinism...
        doesn't have the capacity to dictate
a branch of history that stresses its presence
via etymology -
how... the word cool: is currently out
of vogue... and in decline...
               back to the reality of:
having a cold beer...
           which is cool... because a room temp.
beer is... choice:
bad-manners... crass... puke-juice...
and some others i'm tired to conjure...

  but this jumping from: primodial man:
to the current, modern man...
and leaving no traces for the middle-men...
a philip augustus of france: the capetian...
      
     pompeii: circa 70ad...
                 sometimes the gods would visit...
hermes trismegistus...
       because it was: so...
                   then again:
the darwinistic historogical reflections are
a bit like saying: we've been hoarding...
there's no brain without a fever to store all
the past claims of vanity...
but a complete whitewash...
a blank slate... to work with barely nothing...
and to dress it up to...
the language and fashionable attire...

    it's like jumping from the big bang:
a lot of banging happens in a vacuum...
              oh yeah... you can hear a needle drop
in a vacuum of space...
what a name: genesis: big bang...
big hole bang black: is the way forward...
let's breed us a middle-ground of
the copper / cinnamon royalty...
                     i start from the north...
you start from the south...
we're bound to create a new equation
for where the equator should be...
on the 23.5°N line...
that story: all out of africa...
                    who brought the albinos?!
but do you come across a copper cinnamon
people quickly?
   it's mongrel of... black words on white paper...
there's even a name for it... tropical:
and cancerous...
    because you were never to witness...
what happens...
when there's a first investment in mixed-race
coupling...
   come the second generation and the bleaching
is continued:
               there pops up a curiosity:
like afghani blue eyes...
              
perfectly matched-up insomniac journalism
and darwinistic historiology...
   oh: everything that came prior...
insignificant...
  but i am sure i wasn't there... when...
flour first came into "being" and when eggs
were first harvested for the mass production
of cakes... and when there came about
a domestication of a mountain goat...
or how the cow decided: two stomachs best...
and a... digestion process that...
well: it's pretty much an imitation
of that of a fly... which is why: let man conjure
up elves, orcs... and let the gods mind
conjuring up: elephants and... sloths...
and... the man who invested in trans-genderism:
consciously ingested a tapeworm embryo...
to feel: what a "foetus" would feel like...
what is the tapeworm... if not the placenta
without a mouth?
                      
    islam and hair... though...
               is hair all, that?
                   what about: the manic pixie haircut...
tomboyish... slanting almost shredded
in look...
                  what about:
a fly in a champagne flute...
    or... there's a hair in my soup!
       i know that some people react to hair...
in soups... with... a... 'get it away from me!
poltergeist! poltergeist!'
          hair... long hair... does it have
to be about hair?
   i don't seem to be lacking in this grace...
                               but a perfect skin...
   oh sure... said the bearded-lady...
or the french: au naturel propagators...
   but why is fair such a must: must... fancy?
was there this 6th century affair for bad
teeth as there might have been for...
greasy wigs?
            
                        now wouldn't wearing
a hat like a hebrew might wear a kippah...
notably in those 1950s movies...
    and prior... to have to be always attired
with some headgear...
                and... the trousers whereby...
they reached up... to the mid-torso...
     and would never be... worn like today...
under the bellybutton...
  
   hair... hair in my soup = there's a fly in my
champagne flute...
   i'd probably gag less at the fly...
     spawn of the disinfecting maggot brains
that would sooner feed on dead-flesh
than...

   maggot bullets for every zombie apocalypse...
a maggot bazooka...
maggots grown as g.m. crops...
fused with... piranha d.n.a. branches so that...
they could bite exponentially: quicker...
like jigsaws for jaws: or
                   super-slurper-vacuum openings...

this menacing: over-arching... shadow of time...
if there's no past worth to remember:
or its picked-and-mixed like penny sheets
or like extracts from the goodbook
for the apologists...
                                        but talk about...
the time it takes to boil a litre of water...
and the time it takes to... produce a bottle of wine...
jumping down from a tree:
huddling in a cave...
coming from the ***-side of Versailles...
then moving into... a communist concrete
chicken-shack...

                 and now:
journalistic-insomnia...
                                and... the forgotten fire
with exception to the candle:
               U.V. and poltergeists of neon...
always to be given... reiterations of reality...
while also... attempting to digest...
a thinning ice of fiction: narrations per se...
      
      i call for the federation of niqabs
and foreskins...
              at least a ******* is that sort veil:
that veils the least...
there are those ***** hairs
i call a beard...
and come: the story of the moon...
and there's artificial lightning:
i can actually compete with mel gibson's
"gibbon"...

            otherwise for me: the niqab of the soul...
or: why is he so: "ouch-tistic" rummaging
with his schizoid eyes:
averting the look of what's become:
the mini-skirt: perpetuated *****...
if only i had lived to have lived:
an aborted foetus...

    thank god for bulgarian prostitutes!
than god for bulgarian prostitutes!
a whole lot of them that just want
to ****!
the double-twist of: there's a ******
tux for every uncircumcised male: waiting...
liberal socialist democracy has:
zilch on the matter...

i'm still more bothered about how
darwinism made its plug-hole manoeuvre...
an apple a day: keeps the doctor away...
a poem a day: keeps the psychiatrist at bay...
for such advances in medicine and science:
that these branches still allow
sadists armed with pharmacological weapons:
calling the brain a... chemical soup...
i am not that much half-... Brian ist tod...
but i'm also hardly the
cucumber schumacher...
                 when skiing: just because:
and the snow forcaste is like what?
a burning tire exercise?!

                    if i was truly angry: i wouldn't be writing...
to invest in a boxing duvet wrapped up
in clingfilm... not my thing...
i like to see anger... evaporate at my fingertips:
rather than clenched into a fist
for a knuckle arithmetic...

how can i become: silly / angry about
english girls groomed and gang-***** by pakistani
men...
   remember: i'm the abortion that didn't
happen that somehow wrote this:
i wouldn't be touched: or ****** or...
                    all because: this one time...
at band-camp... there was a girlfriend and i
should have known better...
and for all i know: roulette and blackjack...
and if not mine...
then his... and that's 5 children squeezed
out from her ****: when i would have
advised for a caesarean section because:
a toddler's head would not be anything:
quiet close to... my ***** envy of...
a 12" **** of a roach...
and a kim kardashian ***...
which would be necessary...
                   to... wade through all that
gelatin bubbling and trembling!

my ideas concerning homosexual ***:
thank you, the kiss was great
is the gaybar...
but... i am confined to...
enjoy taking a ****...
esp. diarrhea consistency type:
i sometimes catch myself with an onomatopoeia
of a groan...
    something is always supposed
to come out... rather than in...

i'm still not angry... if i weren't an abortion...
then i'm expected to be...
eyes-darting autistic...
hardly able to read into
a physiognomy...
   i must be: unable to: interpret a smile...
i am drying up on finding new music...
so i must be outside the compensation
parameters of an "in-crowd"...

                i have to... most probably...
start working a genesis with a niqab...
or i have to make donning sunglasses
mandatory for men...
like... oh god: don't invite stiching
the eyes shut and the cenobite Butterbite...
what's a butterbite?
a butterbite mistakes oral *** performed
on a ******* for an oyster...
sooner: rather than later...
the **** becomes the oyster...
the oyster becomes a tulip...
the tulip becomes a slab of butter!

because: we're expert at this...
schumacher is still a ******* cucumber...
and it's not like, death:
this instant... a tweet...
or a telegraph...
it's a bureaucratic "backwards and forwards"...
watching paint dry...
or catching a snail on the nod...
an itching spider without a web:
a very abled... sportartenspinne-mann...
     spandex galore: clue?

hell... i was thinking about...
how more agile:
when darwinistic ideology would come
to ruffle the feathers and sieve...
and what became of existnetialism...
headaches and minor indigestion faults
from the 19th century: Denmark
would: or could become more apparent...
ruffle the feathers...
pluck them from a chicken...
poach it for a soup...
       perhaps roast another one...
skin the pig and cure and later
curate the skin that would become
a leather for a belt...
                
   darwinism and historiology...
heidegger might have summoned the term...
but he wasn't "battling" with english:
islander-thinking...
           "solipsism"... or for that grandiosity
of: the great h'america:
our best kept: interlude...
constantly revived: beside the confines
of Idaho...

          and the modern "question"
of islamic religiosity...
i call the same...
the mind is less obviously tinged
with... markers...
akin to... isoprene and atomic chlorine...
after chernobyll:
why was liquid iodine prescribed
to pregnant women?
markers: like dyes...
  to invigorate the "sedation"
of... an otherwise invisible reaction taking
root: or place...

islamic religiosity is...
very much akin to darwinistic historiology...
the study of history via monkey-dough
and brains and somehow also the ****:
the building block of aztecian flat-top
pyramids...
                islamic religiosity is...
the 17th century looking at 21st century...
darwinistic historiology is...
the 21st century...
looking at totem and the primodial man...
encompassing him in the present...
the 2nd through to the 18th century
are a bit of an amnesia...
better call it a lobotomy...

               there's knitting! there's picking!
there's the apologetics...
history taught from the perspective of darwinism:
is very much akin to history:
taught from the perspective of communism...
i'm sorry: one ape one world...
i do see the fullness... from the perspective
of a microscope... that becomes
the bottle-stump... once i'm finished with it!
having drank my fill!

to romance the vampire is to also
romance h.i.v.
                how does darwinism fare against
the backdrop of: orthodox: strict...
since there is no true darwinism in nature:
and nature: vetos... whatever are the opinions
of the ideologues:
the sieve... the harvest... and the discarded...

there's always an alternative:
etymological... in that...
prior to the written word...
there was the reasoining abounding in...
what came thirst:
the "d" of Δ... or the Δ: a triangle?
               can a sound akin to "d":
occupy... a sound... geometric tool for
exploring... O... omicron...
what came first? "o" and oh...
the phonetic encoding: O...
OΔ...
                      just a suppose...
                                  
   what letters: from greek... could have been
borrowed from the natural world?
O: moon and sun...
         Δ: the mountain...
                 β - a ***** and an ***...
          ζ and ξ - a serpent...
               ι: the fraction stick... and arithmetic
counter to a • or an apostrophe '''''''''''
                waves of omega and the mu(se)...
   prior to the key and the lock and
a door: φ (key inserted)...
              θ (key turned)...
            ψ (door opened)...
           i.e. Ug (Yγ): a tree...
                         applied to the key and door?
it's not a hammer... there's no nail...
                      eta (H): rugby goalposts...
    
etymology doesn't suffice...
      the words will become morphed...
the letters are a priori...
   as numbers are...
but... whereas numbers remain intact
within the confines of a priori:
letters take on a posteriori meanings...
notsably eta (H): the rugby goalposts...
or the "vector":  (φ, θ, ψ)...
rho implies: an amputee sysiphus...
but rho is a P... hence...
the lost thrill of a R put against
the wall: and shot to a trill!
a rattlesnake ramble! mein gott!
what loss: in english and tarantula
numbed! i walked down a road:
that almost became: woad;
sly little *******...
give me a universal language...
and i'm pretty sure that it will not
be one... with a skeleton of ancient
roman to master and craft with!
donkers... plump plums in "origin"...
a Baghdad...

since the full mechanisation of the key
and lock are not represented:
but rather: insinuated...
                        
                        but there is a door...
imagine, to boot...
that there's, also, somehow...
a necessity of a doormat!

- because in vestern europa: it's about time for:
"zee... pudding-reis-poodle-tops!"
much easier laughing at german
with some "vikings" in tow...

i just abhor how darwinism has become
the neu-ego of history: "abided" by...
like... this be the zenith and 100 years
from now... people will not laugh...
or... i much prefer: scold and frown at...
because i much prefer to be baptißed
using boiling...
         using water... that might allow
me to escape... the confines
of a couch: the comforts of a skin...
and all matter of leather: thus concerning...

i am happy to allow myself the following
sentence: the rats and the moon will always
tell the better "story"...
  liberal hard-ons that are hardly quantified
as matchsticks...

you're looking for communits in your current
"conundrum"...
looking for "them" leeching and lurking
from beneath the eisenvorhang?!
          ostenberlin?!
                       i had the impression...
that... your comforts... your dickens...
your semi-detached bogus heavens...
and that's what was required...
for you... to breed your own...
without having to...
outsource the idealists:
                     your... 'aggis neeps and tatties:
roots of "origins"...
you have your own sort of communists...
mostly t-shirt print enterprises...
and... whatever...
looking for communist from under
the iron curtain...
is about like scounting for both
rats and cockroaches...
and a honing idea of the hive...
because rats wouldn't eat roaches
and the two could, somehow...
fashion of symbiotic vogue affair...

you know what ****** me off...
the most... about not being english...
leverage of pompous audacity to state
the most: infantile opinion...
worded: i know:
you cough... i sneeze...
we'll reach an equilibrium, at some point:
to make references to:
and a past...

precedence: to "think" is to:
th(ought i)... and all that's counter-productive of
"i labyrinth" and: thought and i...
or... scalpel: nurse!
grammar! genius! ******* rollerskating chimpmucks...
and... h. p. lovecraftian odes to...
squids... in less than the already:
"murky" waters of... perfect the... widespread
genius of comedy...
via... ridicule... via... bulimia...
via... cooking a steak: well-done...
over-cooking pasta:
the diet of al dente...
                             burning a mushroom:
not being to: not being able to:
and that: to Baghdad... from Loon'don...
                  virtue signalling:
a clap is... 1/100 of a fraction of...
someone... being deaf and having to resolve
the matter: sign-language about to be translated
into... braille!

the islamic religiosity of "today" is about as
mcuh equivalent as the "today":
under darwinistic historiology...

looking for communists from under the once
former iron curtain divide?
good luck: i'm wishing it unto myself:
about to find Mongols in... Kiev!

came across some burden of a sourdough:
and it's like in england:
it's "theirs": never the agony of eating...
a bread... designated to be toasted...
when it just had to be... eaten... "raw"...

what's the fan-base for raw herrings...
within the confines of Nippon...
or these... grandeours of the:
only isles... my ideas to make
metaphors of the crucifix?
a ******'s riddle...

we're looking for communist: y'all!
i'm looking for Belze...
                  and: mādégehirn-verrotten
         und rätsel: ungezieferfreude...
zylinderanziehen: der großartig:
     schwule -            
der: scrumptious...
                                               fladenbrotmann!
bessermann: das englisch...
                   herr portillo... chuckles should
it come to:
   steam-trains and replicas...
and politics: was never really...
about harems and hard-ons...
                                       really?
ask a Baghdadi then: if you pleaz...
Lawrence!

chance of me being spoken to in russian...
and being: reciprocate...
are all yours: slim jim!
  no... seriously...
a ***** of a language that is...
english: i am... most astounded that...
there are some peoples of this world
that have not: yet... allowed themselves
to translate this:
bellybutton orientation of the world
via genus: greenwichus...
to be: unifying versed: et al.

        i must bees the retardedwoz... kin:
and oops some year later...
or: to hell with keeping up...
anything beside the appearing so...
i:  "for the love of the countrymen"...
of which i have none:
are 9 my commuter friends:
and with the romanians...
and the bulagrian ******...
the polish plumbers...
the english... could have their catwalk
of opinions!
who skinned the chickens
and who did what: my shadow lacked
or i slacked over with?

i want to forget because
i just don't want to unravel in...
i would work an honest's day... of worth...
if i could work for a: get together...
or none...
             it's so disorientating...
and... lacking in motivational bravado...
to have to find one man: working...
and the other: *******!

   talk about... having to resort to mind:
the manners to count jack'oh the ol' keeper...
because: abortion signification is
burning a foot in the sole
of my shoe...
and i'm about to make do with
walking a ******* mile...

               and there i was... conjuring
the fetish fancy:
all it would ever take...
was to pretend to... attire oneself /
i.e. make pretences of: pweeety pretty!
i like being governed by:
you have to be wrong...
for the mushroom and tapeworm
and the cuckoldry muppets to be: oinking:
and with a nodding:
the holy approval as: no other route...
other than them being "white".... Rrrrrrridle
no?
                     no -ight then!

In this evening I have decided
That milk and marriage goes well with porridge.

I managed to surge and outsource our storage issue,
I made it pass us, and I still wound up missing you.

I've made it past us, and yet I still wind up missing you.

I think
   I outsource love
Because
   I don't believe
I deserve my own