Strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear.  Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless earth, alone who knows
how many times he's haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn't planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears  
to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral 'round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms' lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times where their paths cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made.  They've chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, without pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of some small city-state.  He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission.  At a dinner hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, struck slack with ennui
until she meets his eyes.  An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside.  He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:
"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other?  Very well!
So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,
passion's heat incinerates you whole.
You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.
You'll die for her; she'll bring you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;
the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need.  An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but her. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief.  When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They're found again, and still there's no release;
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final glance of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her ****** heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse's run.
The mage's gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover's kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe's width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny.  They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time.  A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run
****** lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover.  The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet.  Centurions approach
and ****** him from her side. "So now you're found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time.  We strung him up, but now
his body's gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You'll die just as he did, and how."
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, he passed in peace
suspended in expectant spring's embrace.

Suspended in expectant spring's embrace,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party.  Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi!  One teasing courtier
seduces a queen's guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will **** for revolution's sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes.  Earth shines down, ruined
by man's neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life.  Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took.  The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he's locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell.  One chilling blast
wraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress.  In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth.  His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat.  Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace:
"'Tis best this time we live, and never start."
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows.  Her weak voice strains to say,
"I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse.  Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left.  God will forgive sins we'll commit
for man alone has ****** us.  We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil out in unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death.  She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears.  "To dance with death before him
as you rut...how clever!  Most astounding
that you'd carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines;
strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives."

Strolling, wistful, through a thousand lives
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert's scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon,
Suspended in expectant spring's embrace,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter's icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

1

I sit in the back of Dad’s car, bopping my head to The Beatles’ Revolution and hum quietly while reading over my notes for today’s math test.

2

Lunch with Val, Eugene, Michelle, Kayla, Chris, and Nick, talking about our favorite movie, Forrest Gump, until Val interrupts with how nervous she is about applying to high school.  We finish lunch in silence.

3

Let f(x) = -2X2 + 4X + 6…That is the question that has plagued me all day.  On my math test, I made the answer positive instead of negative, the minor mistake that will cost me my A.

4

On this beautiful, unseasonably warm afternoon, I am glad to be outside reading my favorite Matheson stories on the wooden cutout in the giant oak by the dining room window, but worries that I may not be accepted to The Academy interrupt my leisure.

5

For Christmas, my friends and I exchange gifts.  Val gives me a stuffed flamingo. I put right it right next to the unicorn on the lace covered brown bench that oversees my room.

6

We have received your application for admission testing to The Academy for Allied Health and Biomedical Sciences. Your test will be on January 28, 2008.

7

In gym class, Val holds her hand as if she is in pain, but she refuses to show it to anyone, not even me, her best friend.

8

Val has a circular scar on her hand that looks like a burn mark.  She insists that she is just clumsy and she fell.

9

This kid next to me at The Academy admission testing is breathing so loudly I can’t concentrate.

10



I glide my paintbrush through the orange paint and onto the canvas.  I don’t know what I’m painting, but I know I need to paint.

11

Math class is miserable.  Not only did I get an 86 on the test that I thought I aced, but Val started crying hysterically, until Ms. Endolf sent her to the school counselor.

12

Michelle and Kayla are mad at Val for acting so strangely.  They refuse to speak to our friend.  I refuse to join their charade.  I know she’s acting strangely for a reason.

13

I come home to find my mother crying…happy tears.  She tells me that I passed my admission test with a proud ear-to-ear grin on her face. The next step in the admission process is an interview with The Academy on March 1.

14

I bead a few bracelets before going to sleep.  I feel guilty, like I should be studying or preparing for my interview, but I just don’t want to.

15

Val pulls me into the coat cubby during homeroom, the dark circles under her eyes barely visible from the faint light in the  dimly lit room.  She tells me how her father has abused her and her sisters this past year and swears me to secrecy

16

How can I help my best friend and her sisters? Can I help my best friend and her sisters?  Can I help my best friend?

17

I go to the veteran’s home where I’d been volunteering for a while and see my favorite veteran, Ray.  He tells me not to get old.

18

“Why do you want to go to The Academy?”  Ms. Ferris, my Academy interviewer, asks.  I stare at her blankly for a moment before responding.

19

When Val comes to school with more bruises, I break my promise and tell my parents.

20

I slowly open my report card to reveal a B in math…my first B ever.  I take a puff of my inhaler.

21

The old home phone rings; I assume it will be the Academy with an admission decision. “Help me, Morissa!”  Val screams into the phone.  I gesture to my mother who grabs the car keys, as we race to the door.

22

Spring break.  My family and I go to Hershey Park in Pennsylvania to celebrate my being one of forty students admitted to The Academy.

23

DYFS goes to Val’s house after her older sister tries to commit suicide by overdosing on pain pills.

24

Lunch is so quiet with Eugene, Michelle, Kayla, Chris, and Nick.

25

I got an 84 on my math test today.  I smile.

26

Val returns to school but sits at a different lunch table.  She has no more bruises, but her eyes are still red.

27

My gown flows as I march down the church aisle to receive my certificate of completion from St. John Vianney.

28

I stare at the screen of the my new HP computer as I scratch the back of the $15 iTunes card my grandparents gifted to me. As I begin to type in OKGO’s Here It Goes Again, as the first song I purchase, I change my mind and type in The Beatles’ Revolution.

29

I relax outside alternating between reading Stephen King and beading on my twirling chair as I now do every relaxing summer day.

30

Went to the shore.  Won a giant yellow bee stuffed animal.  I am the skeeball champion!

31

This is so embarrassing.  I don’t know how to open my locker.  In all my years of private school, home school, and Catholic school, I’ve never had a locker until entering The Academy.  Mrs. Bow laughs as she teaches me how to operate a locker.

32

Holding a brain is a lot different than I thought it would be.  It is mushier and lighter than I imagined.

33

“Ever see Forrest Gump?” my new friend, Ruchir, asks at lunch, as I mush the jelly on my sandwich.

34

I walk down the street pulling my ****-tzu and Maltese in my wagon.  Lester almost jumps out when he sees a terrier twice his size, but I catch him just in time.  It is the scariest moment I have had in a long time.

35

At the veteran’s home, I see Ray and tell him how much I love The Academy.  He smiles and asks if I’d like to sing with him.

36

The phone rings.  It’s my new friend Shannon.  She needs help with our Biomedical Sciences homework.

37

I spend Columbus Day at The Carpet Maven, my parent’s carpet store.  St. John Vianney never gave days off for “made up holidays.”

38

Solve for x in the equation Ln(x)=8…I haven’t been able to get that problem out of my head all day.  That is the problem that earned me the Best in Class Award on my first marking period report card.

39

It’s Sunday.  I walk down Main Street to pick up bagels for my family.  The smiley, bright-eyed girl behind the counter at the bagel shop is Val.  She is a student at Mother Superior High School. She asks if my unicorn is being nice to my flamingo.

40

I look at the flamingo and unicorn on my bench.  They’re fine. I’m okay.  Everybody ‘s alright.   Everything’s good.

Gray mountain concrete
       elephant underpass
groans on six foot wide
legs
      
       bones of steel
       re-bar bend and break

As it all begins to crumble
in the cold November sun

Leviathan highways
   strangle the hills
      with cold grip- They
            spill steel and smoke
       blood on the city streets

Delivering poison
     to your door

Robot brain control center
Oversees the operation
from tall towers
        geometric shapes
          
        Obelisks & Skyscrapers

Father Culture thinks with
                                   his ****

i know of Knausgård -  sure, and i share this concerns for
the art of taking to lumber and chopping,
  as novelists tend to do, write with an axe,
philosophise with a hammer...
          metaphor turned into imagery
counter-turned into literalism...
   i once imagined him not being there -
i once wrote ich kampf, stressing
that it was an indefinite expression
of expression, primarily due to the content
of the pronoun... and i was referring also
to the definite expression (much obliged,
atheism, a- without, and the- with,
or indefinite and definite articulation) -
the English eye sees one stance as definite,
and another as indefinite, and juxtaposes
the two interacting...
                          they duly interchange...
i can say ich kampf and say i internalise
verbs: a movement of the hand,
   a strutting or a waltzing circumstance
of owning a body... that's what it's indefinite...
that's why Sartre slithered in counter to
his expanse in philosophy: because i really loved
his novels...
                          but in terms of a mein or
a mit (including me) struggle i find not
ease... no one dares to devalue ****** as a human,
not talking about the past history in purely human
terms urges the postscript of a dictator,
it actually elevates him to a godly status...
           not realising the human is to make flaws
of what the en masse does: raises him to a godly status...
     Zeus had a beard... not a Charlie Chaplin moustache...
right now he's laughing in his grave...
                      old Aldous ******...
   and aren't dictators born because people find their
surnames a little bit funny? it starts so
innocently...          and then it morphs...
   and it becomes an unstoppable morphing...
    yes... i know of a certain number of fellow
      contemporaries... because i want to? no,
because i have to. like rewatching the 2015 film
android - some films you have to rewatch...
   what's being debated? autism and artificial intelligence...
   hyperactive autism, i grant you that...
        it dawned on me... at autistic person could
fake a normal human response treating it as
      artificial... artificial also means mimicked -
  it means that "smart" guy at a bar reciting poetry
he hasn't written... artificial intelligence or the study of it
or even creating it has nothing original about it...
it's not groundbreaking in the same sense that
discovering champagne or penicillin is...
or l.s.d., because these examples have the magic of
being discovered by chance... humanity has been
artificially simulating intelligence since time
immemorial... it's that natural consequence of not being
endowed with a peacock's array of feathers
   to create a soothing, and sickly gentle wind of a woman
resting in a hammock under the shade of a palm tree...
artificial intelligence was inherent in us...
       it's the unravelling of the historical noumenon of man,
the per se that has only crept up on us,
   and before the reality of such a foundation being
established... the humanities create the "prophetic"
citations of it being true: in the "near" / impeding future.
    if god is a noumenon, then man cannot be a
phenomenon... but he is and paradoxically the two
of mutually compatible on a basis of exclusive rather than
an inclusive naturalisation...
               we are talking nature:
  we are talking god naturalised by the medium
suggesting: for i am bound to create obstacles and test
the body, rather than the mind of man...
    as so is man, also naturalised by the medium
of the elements, saying: for i am bound by a body,
   and have to utilise the body first, to overcome the wind
and the snow and the furthermore, until i reach
the labyrinth of the mind...
  and man has done just that, he has bypassed the struggles
of the body, and created entertainment using
the body that once struggled against the elements...
   for he has created the god Minotaur: and the psychic
labyrinthe... as with the Titans whom the gods
usurped, so too comes the twilight of the gods...
but being usurped by demigods...
       Minotaur was a demigod... who usurped the gods
of the trinity that were Zeus, Poseidon and Hades...
        for only the Greeks could create a Judaic bewilderment
as to why a sign was given unto an infant...
           but that's getting technical...
the film, android (2015)? it supports the misconception,
the anguish of a highly functioning autism...
      whereby showing a woman's carelessness in the realm
of adaptability with what some would claim to be
the beginning point of: overcoming the elements...
sure the odd tsunami and earthquake...
   but there's also the tiger, and winter, and parasite,
   and diseases of so many variations...
              man has not been endowed with complete
control over his surrounding... but in becoming partially
overlord of the ones tamed, he has created a mental
labyrinth... a world of such complexity that will
inevitably produce instances of autistic genius...
                 artificial intelligence is already imbedded in us,
just as cloning and Islam has already existed
(Christianity is too schismatic to be considered a cloning
definition... and Judaism as a monotheistic principle
has a heresy embedded in its orthodoxy that it simply
ignores: reincarnation... the Malachi heresy...
  that a second Elijah comes... and god becomes a half)...
   we see artificial intelligence everywhere...
        if the myth goes that woman fed man the original
lie of Eden... then man has nothing else to do than
attempt to polymer that one single lie...
       and repeat it... a reverse intrusion to what "could"
have been an utopian splendour.
      we all see artificial intelligence rummaging about
in the choices people make... it's called lying
   to gain access to a ****** gratification...
  or as i like to call it: a way to compensate our falling short
of the norm, a norm that focuses upon creating
   the most complex startup a Silicon Valley genius
can't comprehend... a family.
    these times prescribe such a bewilderment...
              families are artefacts of what some believe
precipitated into barbarity so close to us: the 20th century...
        and all those arguments you hear that might
discourage the opposite ***, as in damning your parents
for a piece of seashore **** fest of the *****?
   probably came from a person born from a surrogate
mother... well... an incubator, a very expensive *****...
   homsexuality created the evolution of prostitution,
once bound to the genitals... now bound to the womb...
     i.v.f. kids calling natural kids ******...
   i never liked the matrix movies in all honest...
but we're seeing the reversal of the original idea...
                 in the matrix of knowledge... hearts become
piñata: chockies sweet, sensations abundant,
  the spectrum is yours.
                but this poem isn't really about that...
i can sip a whiskey and actually find these things when
i start to utilise these symbols... it sometimes happens
that they fall through... all i was really thinking about
is the "theoretical" score of 147...
                      i'll call them billiards rather than *****
to excuse a "he-he" Michael Jackson laugh at a chance
of "nuance"...
       yellow (2), green (3), brown (4), blue (5), pink (6), black (7)...
and plenty of red (1)... points in bracket respectively...
                  of course from childhood memory i sided with
ronnie... also from Romford... an obscure town in Essex
that oversees the shard and canary wharf from
a distance...                    but watching snooker as a child...
          not too bad at pub-snooker: i.e. pool...
and that game show when snooker was hot back in
the 1990s... big break, with jim davidson as host...
    and of course: john virgo as the rejuvenated
                         ghost of alex higgins... this whiskey
swiggly is on me al.
                 but this final... ****! at one point it was
a century after a century...
                     chess with mathematics, trigonometry
and Pythagoras in motion...
                                    the gods playing with saturn
and jupiter neptune planetary arrangements...
            i can't word it properly... but it'll definitely sound
better than a concussion after too much rugby and
the rough-stuff of "manhood" strutting with bulging
muscle tensions... rather than this Japanese warrior-monk
in a waistcoat and bow-tie swirling a stick in the air...
           i just thought of one thing...
15 wildebeests on an African savannah...
       out comes one lioness...
    and she nibbles at the pack... and she picks off
the weakest of the 15 wildebeests...
              she nibbles the pack before the pack breaks away...
         she looks left (red) and then looks right (yellow,
green, brown, blue, pink, black) -
                      and she picks at the pack, one by one
they fall... but there are two games going on...
   there's the no-man's land snooker where the game is
about entrenchment, and snookering the opponent
for a foul... and then there's the tsunami snooker...
which kinda looks like one person playing chess...
     with no opponent other than a chance mistake...
misjudgement on the case of instinct and how they ******
well know what angle to fudge the white lioness
                onto the billards... and with what force...
      tsunami snooker, or cascade snooker is basically
a monologue...
                             after seeing 3 centuries in a row
you get to crave classical snook -
                                       the mind games of safety shots...
   and teasing, and tempting, and teasing, and tempting,
before the Rubic cube unravels itself,
   and you find that light at the end of the tunnel...
                        and the black pops into...
i'll be honest, i haven't watched snooker for a long time...
        maybe that's why i feel so enthusiastic about it...
       it's sometimes good to be fed this mundane diet
of sport-fanaticism that football is in accordance with
religious dogma... it's a good thing...
             then you end up watching a game of snooker
and all these things start firing up your brain...
   and you end up saying:
      the Taj Mahal can be there for all i care...
the Grand Canyon can be there for all i care...
                    such things don't really require a photograph
with my gimp-face trying to make other people jealous
by actually being there: only to take a photograph,
rather than feed into the air and the thrill of being there...
        as they say... it's a small world after all...
better get used to it being much bigger inside your head.

You realize you're receiving a form of bliss at the time you have Jupiter Destination homes Hermes Bags Outlet. Jupiter Remote island is known as a area at all the south aspect with Martin Region, The southwest. This approach boundary destination stretches regarding A single,800 massive areas together with 9 decades miles involving beachfront neglecting your Atlantic Ocean with the south section not to mention dismissing the Intracoastal Stream along at the west area.

There can be under one thousand Jupiter Of the islands properties owners to day that is why you can be aspect of the ease and water-loving oxygen on this great spot. High-end is considered the important aspect with Jupiter Region properties. With the west section belonging to the area you can see top-of-the-line manors, locations as well as homes owned by this wealthiest and the most common folks our great country Hermes Online. Hand Ocean, a second successful put is found surrounding so you'll unquestionably practical experience magnificence as well as exquisiteness where by that you're lodging for the filter destination. Referring to the actual highest-income sites when it comes to National, Jupiter Tropical isle is actually relating to the number two recognize. If you are seeking take an outstanding local community, it is the suitable area for you'll. Jupiter Tropical island offers a particular variety of governing administration which usually expressly makes sure your lifestyle top quality, safe practices together with safety not to mention aesthetic kind of each it is houses and the great. Typically the manager-council variety of governing administration oversees almost all fun-based activities in the market that include general public is effective and ammenities, general population defense, engineering direction,

ocean plus household protection in addition to advertisement together with advertisements laws. The creative concepts as well as guidelines make perfectly sure that all the people checking out and even having Jupiter Snowdonia housing could have the top that the financial commitment are able. Jupiter Is Sarasota offers the view, the actual prestige plus the life-style. You may enjoy lovely seaside or perhaps riverfront suffers from, settle back from of several expansive shorelines and receive to meet up with several of the prosperous socialites who're moreover keeping the vicinity. Trying out Jupiter Island properties maintains you close towards stretch of land and then the water pursuits like golf game Hermes Bags, yachting, going, technical scuba etc. Aided by the choice of golf equipment not to mention local community types which often particularly compliment the recreation of choice, you will certainly discover the area you've. Jupiter The southeast housing affords you privacy together with peacefulness no matter what you may be going to receive a multimillion-dollar residence, some sort of beachfront residence, a superb home to boost kids or simply a small place for your self only. You've got the persons rather welcoming along with extremely versatile and acquire to savor staying close towards naturel. Jupiter Remote island will likewise allows you to feel the people classic within its indigne California. This is exactly truly a person heaven you must not forget. You could also comfortably head off to regional Miami and additionally The southwest.

The town associated with Hobe Audio and then Give Beach front is perfect nearby such as Fingers Ocean airport terminal. When you are planning to stay one of several finest towns, cities aided by the top net worth per capita, a variety of Jupiter Destination agencies are often more versus relieved you can sell organic assist to enable you to get the venue most appropriate to your finances and additionally standard of living. Encounter classification right away in Jupiter Of the islands.
Relate Articles:
http://www.parents-choice.org/

back in the days, tales from lauderdale...

yakuzzi gang from oakland park, 308
nightly waves flowin' thru brain channels
the traitor of my memories will judge me
no other day, 38ers, toni der assi, stoogie

two existences, eager brothers at arms
shake em the shake, rip and run, zippas
platin zippos, trip-apache, brave bear
the tents of the past remain as debris

as long as doom's grace feeds us lust
struggle on, lights out, turn me on, baby
shivering is the silver sun at dusk here
and gangsta poets speedin' thru alleys

fat **** frank oversees all oceans, inc.
friends at the thames, partners in crime
the green shining, ultra fresh scent, yeah
bodegas are useful for distribution

nevah, tho', enter these places at night
brooklyn heights, floor 64, 65 & 66 locked
merciless fred, sumptuous leather jacket
cuban necklace jeezy boostah, spiderman

dead blueline pitbulls, ****** cages,
rageful is the age of ours, my friends
sunday's dawn opposes my design
in the corner of my room, hidden

London Has Been Said ...
In A .... " City Guide " ....    
  
To Be A PLACE TO SEE ... !!!!!  
    
But You Should Recognise ...    
That ... Prices Are HIGH ... !!!  
Even For A Short Train Ride ... !!!  
    
EVERYONE Can Expect ...    
To See .... " Tolerance " .... !!!!!!!!  
    
Well There Are ...    
Quite A Few Ways To Define ... TOLERATE ... !!!!!  
    
It Can Mean ...    
    
ENDURE, PERMIT and ALLOW TO EXIST ...  
    
Further Definitions INCLUDE ...    
    
To .....    
    
"Allow to be practised, without interference, or, molestation !"  
    
We'd ... Better NOT Mention ...  
    
School Education ...  
Or Problems Caused Because of Racism ... !!!  
    
Some DO TOLERATE A Foreign Face ...  
But NOT Always In ... RESPECTFUL Ways ... !!!  
    
Some Racists PRETEND That We're ALL FRIENDS ... !?!  
    
But Would NEVER Let A FOREIGNER ...    
.............. In Their Bed ............... !!!!!  
    
If Words Like THOSE Cause You OFFENCE .... !!!  
    
Try To ... " TOLERATE MATE " ... !!!!!  
    
Because I've Got MORE I .... NEED TO SAY .... !!!!!    
    
I Don't EXIST For You To Sit ...    
And Just PERMIT MY RIGHT To LIVE ... !?!  
And TOLERATE ... The Things I Say ... ?!?  
WHO TOLD You To Think THAT WAY ... !?!  
    
So MANY HATE A Darkened Face ... !!!  
And Seem To THINK That's NO DISGRACE ... ?!!!?  
    
And Is ... OKAY ... !?!  
How Can This Be ... EVEN TODAY ... !?!?!  
    
From .....  
    
NEW AGE SLAVES To ... Yesteryear ........................................    
MANY BLACKS Have Lived IN FEAR ... !!!!!  
of ... Facing ATTACKS That May Bring TEARS ... ?!!!?  
    
When MURDERS Come We Hear .... " OH DEAR ... !!! "  
    
While Words We Say Are QUICKLY CLAIMED ... !!!  
    
To ...    
    
"Deserve a place, penned in, and caged !"  
    
Where We're THEN TOLD ...  
    
"You're going to pay !  
Your wordplay we, won't tolerate !"  
    
South Africans KNOW ...    
How THAT ONE Goes ... !!!!!  
    
Mandela Was Sent To CLEARLY ROT ... !!!  
DEEP INSIDE A ... " PRISON Hole " ... !!!!!  
    
London Can Be REALLY COLD ... !!!!!!!!  
And CLEARLY Has ... NO STREETS of Gold ... !!!!!!!  
    
Unless You ENTERTAIN The ... " Corporate Fold " ...    
    
Well Wherever I Go .... !!!  
I Make It KNOWN By The Way I Move ...    
    
I ... TOLERATE Views From RACIST Crews ... !!!!!  
Who CLEARLY CHOOSE To Act Like I'm NOT In The Room ... ?!?  
    
But Let Them KNOW ...  
Be COOL And ... " Shrewd "  ...  
And Try YOUR BEST To NOT BE Rude ... !!!  
    
And ... DON'T Presume That I'm A FOOL ... !!!!!!!!  
I've Been WELL SCHOOLED By TRUTHFUL CREWS ....    
    
And STUDY YES ... Your Daily News ... !!!  
    
BELIEVE In THIS ... !!!  
I KNOW About ... YOU ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
    
DON'T MESS With Me And I'll TOLERATE YOU ...    
And Find The Few Who ... CLEARLY Choose ...  
To ... SEE Me As A HUMAN TOO ... !!!    
    
Now Governments' View ...  
    
ZERO TOLERANCE Is The Best Defence Against Terrorist Sects ... !!!  
    
Whose Words THEY CLAIM ... !!!  
    
Clearly Suggest A Need For Them To Make Violent Acts ...    
    
But Surely This Will Cause PROBLEMS ... ?!?  
When INNOCENT MEN Become Victims of FALSE Arrest ... !?!  
    
And Then Are KEPT for ... " PUNISHMENT " ...    
And TORTURE Til' They're ... Almost DEAD ... !!!!!  
    
They Say TOLERATE But Then DETAIN ... ?!?  
Those Whose Words Spread ANGER And HATE ... !!!  
    
They ...    
CLEARLY Are Willing To TOLERATE ... !!!  
But Only Those Who DON'T Complain ...  
    
But The Ku Klux **** And BNP ... ?!?!?  
Have PREACHED RACE HATE Since The ... " Good Ol' Days " ... !!!!!  
    
But STILL EXIST ... EVEN TODAY ... !?!  
    
Does That Seem FAIR ... ???  
Do You ... REALLY CARE ... !?!  
    
LET THEM Say What They WANT TO SAY ... !!!  
A Pendulum DOESN'T Stop ... " Halfway " ... !!!!!  
    
These Double Standards FILL The Air ...    
What Makes Them Think TEMPERS WON'T Flare ... !?!  
    
The Air We Breathe WE ALL Should SHARE ... !!!!!  
I Hope You People ... Are PREPARED .... !?!?!?!  
    
Because HATRED NOW Is Climbing Stairs ... !!!  
Words Like THOSE AREN'T Meant To SCARE ... !!!  
But IGNORANCE ... May Take You There ... ?!?  
    
To THAT PLACE That's NOT SO GREAT ... !!!!!  
So TOLERATE Or ... " ACCOMMODATE " ... ?!?  
    
NEITHER Folks ... And That's NO JOKE ... !!!  
    
WELCOME'S The Word That Gets MY VOTE ... !!!  
    
Try WELCOMING ... With OPEN ARMS ... !!!  
And STOP These Fights With GUNS IN PALMS ... !!!!  
    
HARMONY Breeds ENERGIES ...    
That May Just Bring ... MORE UNITY ... !!!!!!!!!  
That Helps MORE AGREE To DISAGREE ...    
And DISMISS ....................................... Negativity ... !!!!!!!  
    
I'd LIKE That Folks ... PLEASE BELIEVE Me ... !!!  
TRUTHFULLY  ... And ... HONESTLY ... !!!!!  
    
But CLEARLY Peace May Now Be Lost .......................  
    
To Society's Streets ...    
NO UNITY For Humanity ... !!!  
    
Those Who Choose To ... TOLERATE THAT ...    
Have Minds Now LOST And ETERNALLY TRAPPED ... !!!!!  
    
I'm A PEACEFUL MAN But I'll Be ****** ... !!!!!  
Before I'd Let Racists ... ATTACK ...    
And NOT Attempt To FORCE THEM BACK ... !!!!!!  
    
God Gave Me LIFE For Me To LIVE ... !!!  
    
Let Me Take You Back To My First Page ...    
TOLERATE Can Mean ... " ALLOWED To Exist " ...    
    
So WHO OVERSEES THIS ... !?!  
    
Those Who'd Like To See Blacks ... " LYNCHED " ... ?!?  
Does ... White Supremacy STILL Exist ... ?!?  
    
BELIEVE If You Like DISMISS If You Don't ...  
Slave Masters CLEARLY ... STILL Have HOLD ...  
of Many Blacks Who've LOST Their Souls ... !!!!!!  
    
Blacks Who Choose To Take Black Lives ...    
Are WORSE Than Racists Who Are WHITE ... !!!!!!!    
    
London Lights Do STILL SHINE BRIGHT ... !!!  
While Blacks STILL DIE From STUPID FIGHTS ... !!!!!!!!!  
    
"So, listen black, don't even try !  
Killing each other, is just not right !  
Whoever you ****, had a Black Mother !"  
    
Would You Want YOURS To LOSE You Over ...  
    
......... " POINTLESS WARS " ........ ?!!!?  
    
You NEED TO Take A ... PAUSE ...............................................................  
And HELP THE CAUSE .... !!!!!!!!!    
    
USE YOUR BRAIN And Stake A CLAIM ... !!!  
Show LOVE And PATIENCE It's EASY To HATE ...  
    
But ... HARD To TRUST ... !!!!!  
So Do Your BEST To ... RISE ABOVE ...  
    
Those Who CLAIM To ...........  
    
......... " TOLERATE " ........

“I can believe things that are true
and things that aren't true
and I can believe things
where nobody knows
if they're true or not. 

I can believe in Santa Claus
and the Easter Bunny
and the Beatles
and Marilyn Monroe
and Elvis
and Mister Ed.
Listen -
I believe that people are perfectable,
that knowledge is infinite,
that the world is run
by secret banking cartels
and is visited by aliens
on a regular basis,
nice ones
that look like wrinkled lemurs
and bad ones who mutilate cattle
and want our water and our women. 

I believe that the future *****
and I believe that the future rocks
and I believe that one day
White Buffalo Woman is going to come back
and kick everyone's ***.
I believe that all men
are just overgrown boys
with deep problems communicating
and that the decline
in good *** in America
is coincident
with the decline in drive-in movie theaters
from state to state. 

I believe that all politicians
are unprincipled crooks
and I still believe that they are better
than the alternative.
I believe that California
is going to sink into the sea
when the big one comes,
while Florida
is going to dissolve into madness
and alligators
and toxic waste. 

I believe that antibacterial soap
is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease
so that one day
we'll all be wiped out by the common cold
like martians in War of the Worlds. 

I believe that the greatest poets of the last century
were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis,
that jade is dried dragon *****,
and that thousands of years ago
in a former life
I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. 

I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars.
I believe that candy
really did taste better when I was a kid,
that it's aerodynamically impossible
for a bumble bee to fly,
that light is a wave and a particle,
that there's a cat in a box somewhere
who's alive and dead
at the same time
(although
if they don't ever open the box
to feed it
it'll eventually just be
two different kinds of dead),
and that there are stars in the universe
billions of years older
than the universe itself. 

I believe in a personal god
who cares about me
and worries
and oversees everything I do.
I believe in an impersonal god
who set the universe in motion
and went off to hang with her girlfriends
and doesn't even know
that I'm alive.
I believe in an empty and godless universe
of causal chaos,
background noise,
and sheer blind luck. 

I believe that anyone
who says *** is overrated
just hasn't done it properly.
I believe that anyone
who claims to know what's going on
will lie about the little things too. 

I believe in absolute honesty
and sensible social lies.
I believe in a woman's right to choose,
a baby's right to live,
that while all human life is sacred
there's nothing wrong with the death penalty
if you can trust the legal system
implicitly,
and that no one but a *****
would ever trust the legal system. 

I believe that life is a game,
that life is a cruel joke,
and that life is what happens
when you're alive
and that you might as well
lie back and enjoy it.”

She stopped,
out of breath.

Begins foot tall grip-

mountain brain to it
       of and tall his shapes
crumble in poison operation
        from bend and strangle
mountain to bones

strangle and operation
                        from **** foot underpass groans

                         begins

They smoke wide legs city and tall the streets
Delivering the cold grip-
                                             and bend
                               crumble in of his tall bones
                               the foot with on blood

blood highways and
all of concrete smoke

They with on center
Oversees poison

What curious and contradictory things,
The cold kiss of winter brings.
The withered soul of Autumn sets,
Awakening a world of bitterness and regrets.

Cruel Irony oversees,
As the earthy time of doom and gloom,
Is also the time of Christmas trees,
And the son of Man’s empty tomb.

A choir of angels joyously sing,
As winter’s breath claims homeless lives,
And a band of sleigh bells festively ring,
As corporate greed flourishes, and thrives.

With its subtle promise of bright tomorrows,
Winter stores life’s greatest sorrows.

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear.  Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless ground, alone who knows
how many times he's haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn't planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears  
to speak the truth they're cursed to know so well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral 'round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms' lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times their paths will cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made.  They've chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, absent pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of a small city-state.  He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission.  At a banquet hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, a mask of ennui
until she meets his eyes.  An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside.  He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:
"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other?  Very well!
So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,
passion's heat incinerates you whole.
You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.
You'll die for her; she'll draw you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;
the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need.  An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but she. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief.  When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They're found again, and still there's no release; 
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final gaze of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her ****** heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse's run.
The mage's gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover's kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe's width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny.  They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time.  A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run
****** lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover.  The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet.  Centurions approach
and ****** him from her side. "So now you're found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time.  We strung him up, but now
his body's gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You'll die just like he did and how."
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, in peace he passed
between first breath of spring and winter's last.

Between first breath of spring and winter's last,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party.  Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi!  One teasing courtier
seduces a queen's guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will **** for revolution's sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes.  Earth shines down, ruined
by man's neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life.  Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took.  The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he's locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell.  One chilling blast
wraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress.  In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth.  His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat.  Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace: 
"'Tis best this time we live, and never start."
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows.  Her weak voice strains to say,
"I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse.  Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left.  God will forgive sins we'll commit
for man alone has ****** us.  We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil out in unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death.  She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears.  "To dance with death before him
as you rut...how clever!  Most astounding
that you'd carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines,
in wistful sojourn through a thousand lives."

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives 
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert's scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon,
Between first breath of spring and winter's last,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter's icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

1
it’s graduation day
and the teacher gives awards
to each :
a book to one
a staff to another
silk or precious stones;
and to Nasrudin
the teacher
gives a donkey

2
It is some years
and the teacher
hears of Nasrudin’s fame
and comes to visit
the House of Prayer Nasrudin oversees
and to pay homage to the Saint
buried just beside

3
O Nasrudin,
says the teacher -
how great your fame
and vast your following
Tell me, which Eminent Saint  
is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?

O Master,
says Nasrudin
It’s the donkey
you gave me
It died just 4 years after
and I buried him here
And everyone wants a Saint
so I have not disabused people
of their faith

4
The teacher nods with a smile
and Nasrudin continues:
But tell me Master –
which Eminent Saint is buried in the mound
beside the House of Prayer
you oversee?

Ah, Nasrudin, says the teacher
*though people believe it’s a Saint
it’s really your dead donkey’s mother

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
across the chasmed centuries gone past,
he calls her name; it never quite arrives
to fall upon her ear.  Just at the last,
she leaves the hall, or shutters windows closed.
The fading echoes rebound, fall, despair
upon the careless earth, alone who knows
how many times he's haunted up her stairs
and stood before her door, unwilling hand
hung limply at his side. The heavy years
passed by them both again; he hadn't planned
that they would not meet. This chance disappears  
to speak the truth he knows she knows as well;
two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.

Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell,
a karmic double-helix twists through time.
They spiral 'round, attracted and repelled
by cosmic force, the space between defined
as two arms' lengths apart. Their fingertips
will brush by chance; the spark that generates
ignites the kindling lust, the heated lips
which speak the wildfire words of love. The fates
dictate the places, times where their paths cross;
circumstances, consequences feed
the choices made.  They've chosen fire, the loss
of reason, stoking starving naked need,
dance with abandon, passion, without pride;
they trip light-years fantastic side by side.

They trip light-years fantastic side by side.
The pas de deux began in ancient court
of some small city-state.  He is a knight
sent by his Queen, a diplomatic sort
of mission.  At a dinner hosted by
the local King, the knight, while taking in
who might be helpful or a hindrance spies
a shaken mane of gold, blue eyes within
her stunning face, struck slack with ennui
until she meets his eyes.  An eyebrow lifts,
a corner of her mouth curls up, unseen
by all save the old man beside.  He shifts,
and stands to pound his staff. The hall is still;
bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell

Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell:
"Your burning gaze, Sir Knight...your smile, milass;
returned. You want each other?  Very well!
So mote it be; I'll have it come to pass.
She will be linked to you, eternally
yours, to have, to hold and never love;
to consummate and quench your lust will be
your death. And you shall lust, by Jove above!
I hereby mate your everlasting souls;
condemn you with a love like Hades' fires,
passion's heat incinerates you whole.
You'll take him, child, and **** him with desire.
You'll die for her; she'll bring you to her knees
across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas."

Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas
uncounted years of wandering, he seeks
asylum from the memory of her eyes.
The softest skin, most gently blushing cheeks,
wildest fingers raking skin from back,
ever-changing hips which ****** and thrash;
the tavern *****, the courtesan, all lack
whatever power it would take to smash
his crushing need.  An aching pilgrimage,
life spent in shameless chase to slake the lust
imposed by jealous wizard in his rage.
Now weak and old, he walks alone through dust
and sandstorm, seeking solace, final rest
in desert's scalding carborundum breath

In desert's scalding carborundum breath
she oversees construction of her tomb.
Her father started it; upon his death,
she left the mage to build the solemn room
of memory. The waves of slaves pour sweat
in rivers onto stones, their muscles scream
and ripple in the undulating heat.
Mirage becomes a staggering man, unseen
by all but she. She mounts and rides to bring
some water, some relief.  When their eyes meet,
their souls enmesh, their spirits start to sing,
his failing body falls about her feet.
They're found again, and still there's no release; 
not even end of life can bring surcease.

Not even end of life can bring surcease;
she lived another twenty years beyond.
His final gaze of longing gave no peace,
but chained her in the everlasting bond
of arcane condemnation. Her ****** heart
is pierced by passing seconds, every one
a blunted needle, mildly poisoned dart
not strong enough to stop her pulse's run.
The mage's gift to her: the agony
of life remembering her lover's kiss,
then a death too short to set her free.
It sends her toward another fatal tryst,
spun round again the universe's width;
their love a measured minuet with death.

Their love a measured minuet with death,
a dance with destiny.  They wake again
to unfamiliar bodies, unknown paths
meandering across the haunted plain
of time.  A muddy pasture, half a million
blissful stoners join in raucous song:
"...and you make it hard". Among the hills run
****** lovers who can do no wrong,
all sharing bodies, needles 'til the smack
runs out. Her shaking arms strapped 'cross his chest;
he huddles close, awaiting the next stack
of Methadone. He shivers; breathes his last.
She cries and rocks his body, they will spoon
throughout the summer's thundered afternoon.

Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon
as heavy clouds erupt on thirsty soil,
cooler air meets skin on fire, a boon
to Magdalene and lover.  The sweet oil
washes off, the rain obscures the sound
of marching feet.  Centurions approach
and ****** him from her side. "So now you're found
beside this one, whose last ride gave us such
an evil time.  We strung him up, but now
his body's gone, and you were seen beside
the tomb. You'll die just as he did, and how."
She watched another man be crucified.
Supported by her love, in peace he passed
between first breath of spring and winter's last.

Between first breath of spring and winter's last,
the royal courtyard at Versailles in bloom
is laid out for the party.  Every face
is rouged, each powdered wig precisely groomed.
The hundred soldiers stand down, raise a toast,
Vive le roi!  One teasing courtier
seduces a queen's guard to leave his post.
Behind a hedge, they make love unaware
of peasants, women milling through the gate
in search of bread and royal blood, not cake.
He runs to save the Queen, and seals his fate;
the mob will **** for revolution's sake.
The oaks a silent witness to his doom
in autumn colors, reds and golds festooned.

In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
the twin moons rise and set, reflecting sun
upon the biodomes.  Earth shines down, ruined
by man's neglect, what could not be undone.
The population by law zero sum;
resource conservation held above
the joy of new life.  Parents here must come
to know the anguish of requited love.
She bears his child; they knew too well the chance
they took.  The court will force a choice be made:
the father or the child. A tear, a glance
as he's locked out. She watches as he fades
in cryogenic punishment, life lashed
to winter's icy shackles holding fast.

To winter's icy shackles holding fast
her soul, she proffers prayer, slogs through the sleet
toward her cloistered cell.  One chilling blast
wraps habit 'round her, knocks her off her feet.
The heavy, sodden cloth, the wind prevents
her gaining purchase on the frozen ground.
From monastery cot, the monk could sense
distress.  In thin burnoose he dashed and found
her, cold as stone, yet breathing; swept her up
and rushed her to the hearth.  His warm embrace
brings on familiar heat.  Their pasts stirred up,
relived, decision made within a trace: 
"'Tis best this time we live, and never start."
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart.

Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart;
the aching need grows stronger day by day.
He tends her failing health without regard
to duty, vows.  Her weak voice strains to say,
"I will be gone before you this time. Hear
me out; this may be what we need to break
our curse.  Stay with me as my time grows near;
and love me as the Reaper comes to take
my soul, and finish with me after I
have left.  God will forgive sins we'll commit
for man alone has ****** us.  We must try
or curse ourselves, continue to submit
to endless pain, remain just as we are:
connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart."

Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart,
they cling to every moment here and now;
the priceless beating of her failing heart,
his passions roil in an unending flow.
He gazes deep in her eternal eyes
as they glaze over, looking past his face
into the hollow stare of death.  She lies
suspended between life and time and space,
to hear an old, familiar voice sound in
her ears.  "To dance with death before him
as you rut...how clever!  Most astounding
that you'd carry out this futile whim.
He dies; you'll live, just as the curse defines,
in wistful sojourn through a thousand lives."

In wistful sojourn through a thousand lives,
Two ancient souls in broken bodies dwell.
They trip light-years fantastic side by side
Bound by an angered mage's curs'ed spell.
Across uncharted lands, bedragoned seas,
In desert's scalding carborundum breath
Not even end of life can bring surcease;
Their love a measured minuet with death.
Throughout the summer's thundered afternoon,
Between first breath of spring and winter's last,
In autumn colors, reds and golds festooned,
To winter's icy shackles holding fast;
Their minds attuned, yet cleft by broken heart:
Connected, blessed, and doomed to be apart.

i am much
like the moon
over a quiet city with a light
very dim but still
ever so slightly radiant
yet nothing compared to what
oversees the busy city that bathes
underneath the brightest light
they have known -
other lights shine brighter than the moon
not much outshines the sun, but
you can still see the moon against the blue

I again glimpse of eternity.

I saunter where the shadows stain the streets.
I linger where my essence is silhouetted in the moonlight,
or beamed under a street light,
                                               or doused in headlights.

I loiter with friends in parking lots of frozen yogurt shops
in a small town--
listing torpid quadrupeds,
whose shells glisten and dazzle in the myriad of lights,
scrolling down the boulevard.

I find myself behind the wheel,
grazing among pavement pastures,
hungrily consuming the open road
on a silent night,                         in the still air.

          Night makes everything seem to go on forever.

From the speakers I hear the sizzle of ancient synthesizers
envelop the interjections of pulsating snare drum
slaps and snaps, cracks and claps.
          Hypnotized, I hit cruise control and drift ceaselessly.

At home, face illuminated in the television's glare,
my body buried under the weight of scattered sheets,
staggering dreams, snacks and drinks,
          my eyes burn steady into the void.

The television, likewise, burns into me,
as I ingest films that depict time travel in all its ambiguity.
I rip through the portal, feeling simultaneously
expeditious and sluggish.
          Did I stop time with breakneck speed,
or did I freeze like a river in the winter solstice?

Either way, I now stand outside the confines of mortality.

There's the sands of perception (identity)
muddied by the breaking waves of time,
where my sunken footprints
appear
and
disappear.

Relinquishing the captain's chair,
my mind fills with lucid dreams,
          from the TV screen.
Surely I know this is not reality,
but I cannot help it--
I am an accomplice in these chronographic schemes.

Though I appear in control, or at least aware,
I surrender my earthly duties to the conductor of time,
or its deviant: The Vexer.

The Vexer, the mischievous time traveler,
who dances between the dimensions,
with black holes for ears,
the speed of sound for a voice,
the speed of light for eyes--
it is the pestering worm digging throughout the galactic space apple.

The Vexer, who has wrenched me from my mortal footing,
to cast me adrift among uncharted seas,
with gloomy waters murky but heavenly
in its dark and rich violet glow,
like fires that burn hot hot on the color spectrum.
          A color less seen and therefore depicted as serene,
but all the more potent in its mystery.

The Vexer, with a wink of its cataclysmal eye,
grabs me by the wrist and tears me across the night sky--
I stretch thin between the television lines,
the endless roads and the mystic synthesizers,
peering through the night sky,
where human senses dull and the mind wanders--
          I have found myself in the Twilight Zone.

I am bound for eternity, ****** through the
tunnel vision telescope of man,
refracted as I bounce among the mirrors within,
expounded among the stars and the space between,
exploding in a brilliance in the vastness of its bliss.

The youthful laughter that ejects from the parking lots
of frozen yogurt shops,
the night drives with eyes that gloss over as it peers into oblivion,
dulled human senses that leave room for the mind to ponder,
the television screen that burns steadily into the mind,
the Vexer who oversees the mind's pondering of night life,
who like the court's jongleur skips and leaps
around the immensity of time's preponderance--  

Feigning insomnia to reap the benefits of illumination
in the infinitesimal night hour,
in these lingering hours that warp around somber hands
frozen on the midnight clock,
where thoughts of poetry flow and still bodies collect dew,
          the proximity of night life as it pertains to time travel:

The two are entwined.

There’s a bench in the park across from my house. It sits atop a spiralling path on a hill, and it oversees everything. I would sit there every night watching the bevy of swans take flight at one end of the pound just to come swooping down at the other. Their take off’s just like planes: momentum is gathered until that vital second when they lift, and I would almost feel the sensation in my stomach as they did so. Such beautiful creatures. It baffles me how someone has a claim to them: “ They are mine. All mine”, she says without saying.

One night, with nothing but the moon lit reflecting off the ripples of the pond, I sat there watching the swans. A group of young men dressed in a deathly black appeared, moving swiftly to the pond. I watched them split up and try and round the swans up like they were sheep. They struggled at first, but eventually they grabbed one and bagged it.

I guess that’s the problem with ownership.

I had a friend, a botanist by training,
A florist by design, who purchased
Two & a half relatively fertile,
Well-water irrigated acres in
Southern California.
(That’s about a hectare for you
Metric freaks.)
The land, Katie Scarlett:
Moreno Valley, Incorporated,
Part of the hilariously misnamed
“INLAND EMPIRE,” to wit:
Riverside and San Bernardino,
The latter county already this year’s
****** Capital of North America.
Last year’s too and the year before that.
ZAP! I am neuro-linguistically
(Thank you, Noam!)
Pre-coded to check the numbers:
The IRAs and bank accounts;
The living trusts; the Gary U.S. bonds.
My safe-deposit box, and right on time,
With a puff of smoke, a drum & cymbal smash,
The Confiscatory Duke appears.
The Duke-Duke-Duke of Earl,
The eternal, the infernal—
Internal Revenue Service:
THE I.R.S. hurdy-gurdy 1040 Man--in this
Case Men--stiffs in dark overcoats & fedoras,
Official 1040 Men, thank you very much,
With a tip of their green eyeshades,
Polite debt-collecting blokes,
No “Break-a yah face” guidos,
Just subtle government lawyers
Garnishing what’s left of your future.
Whoever came up with: “In this world,
Nothing can be said to be certain,
Except death and taxes.”
(Probably Benny C-Note
Go Fly a Kite himself,
Benjamin Franklin, one of
The so-called Founding Fathers—
Need I remind you all, who gave
Alexander Hamilton--an out-of-wedlock
West Indies *******--- Poor Richard’s blessing
To create the U.S. Department of the Treasury,
Which oversees the Revenue Bureau.)
Yeah, Death & Taxes--
Benny sure hit the nail’s head.

But I digress . . .
My friend Louie, the Botanist
Plants two & a half acres,
A hectare of flowers,
Broadcasting, strewing
Like alfalfa grass, many thousand
Bird of Paradise seeds,
Sal’s bird—if you catch my drift—
The Bird of Paradise,
Strange plant, N’est-ce-pas?
Looks like a punk rock
Woody the Woodpecker,
Day-Glo orange plumage,
A strangulation collar,
A ring around the collar of
****** blue hickeys, those freaky rings,
A veritable Sprezzatura!
Louie’s field of simple joy:
Mother Earth at her best.

It is wrought upon some, the truthful worries of our world

The rest suffice to say that they are but weak

Survival of the fittest, an excuse used to trample the within us humans

They have but disgraced mankind with all the shoving and pushing

Look around you, open your eyes

“No man’s an island”, a wise old man once said

His words will probably be lost forever

For those who read, suffice with the act of doing so

And not all who do, are gifted with the ability to read

We reach the point of evolution where complexity overcomes all

The one that oversees is now but lost

There might be glimmers and slimmers of hope that we might see

The strong ones might stand up for what might be right

But who am I to judge what right truly is?

Mistakes I shall make

Numbers I shall fake

Climb atop this metaphorical mountain I will

Shout from its metaphorical top I will

Just to show myself that I’m not weak

My presence shall always be felt

From stacked decks shall hands always be dealt

Argue, will I no longer

No longer will I survive

There is but one thing that this world respects

And for it to respect me, will I show it that I can thrive

Provide me the space,
To encounter your love.
Is there any reason,
Why I shouldn’t.

Mark the essence of your soul,
On my skin.
Your velvet touch,
Purifies my soul.

You lead me blindly,
You terrify my soul,
You corrupt my mind,
You terrify my thoughts.
Though I’m hanging;

Hanging on a thin thread,
That oversees my thoughts,
Understand my beginning,
And keeps my end away from me.

© 2011
Robyn G Neymour

down by the river
a public house once stood
it attracted a clientele
from the town's neighborhoods

the oversees and laborers
would whet their whistles
after a big day working
amid the scrub and the saffron thistles

on the afternoon
of September ninth 1932
in the pub's kitchen
a fire did brew

the flue of the Metters stove
caught alight
which made the cook
scream in fright

from the bar the proprietor
ran at speed
to bucket water
on the flame's greed

town's folk tuned up
with hessian bags
to stub out the embers
that were raging in the building's rags

but their efforts to contain
the fire were all in vain
the watering hole was consumed
by the fast pace of the flammable bane

at the rear of the pub
a charred body was found
he'd not escaped
the flares which did surround

the itinerant bur cutter's
ghost loitered at the pub's site for many a year
he'd appear on nights
when the skies were darkened in drear

the fire at the drinker's establishment
is still spoken of in town
that fateful day the hotel's stove
burnt the drinker's house down

We are us

Who are we?
We are the waters that create the seas
No need for modernisation
Civilisation oversees
United on the same path
Individually rare roads
Through bushes and gravels
We are the history that begins
We are the heard of new ideas,
That showers from forebears
To conquer now nature declares
Born with flares
All of us,all of us all of us we are one

Stumbling in failures
Triumphs directly delivers
We soon to stand like creepers,
Brothers and sisters
Learners to teachers and doctors
We are us

Or morning from dawn
Bravery at spawn
Flexible tongues to questions
Scary responses for answers
Who knows who are we
We are us, we are us
We are the Youths

Written by Kabelo Mthembu

The Sovereign reigns on high
enthroned behind the sky
Aware of our distressing woe
He oversees the tragic show
as lies with bullets fly.

Unmoved he sees the dead
beholding him in dread
unable to reverse their course
their being severed from its source
aware of what’s ahead.

The judgement never ends
although we miss our friends
who never yielded unto grace
and now must read upon Christ’s face
a message that offends.

Deceivingly aquamarine sky
Oversees the madness of summers
Whose days are closing in
But this time your astral projection
Conquers the atmosphere
And my lungs join the prayer of ribs
Asking for
"Please turn this grasp into a caress
Soothing the burns
That I may have the chance
To become remedy"

Here is a country ruled by silence.
Empty streets bask in sunlight and absence.
A country of mice and dark windows.
In an audience room dance a few shadows.

The oldest one speaks :
"I am an Eternal Empress ; blessed is my lot.
My subjects have gone, but my rule has not.
Through sunrise and twilight I seat on cold stone,
For one more day I rule, once again to suffer alone."

She oversees a sea of empty homes.
What a poor fate, for one's crown to be so heavy,
For a single soul to bear the eternity of duty.

Ghost chance
Translucent trance
Appear in the season
For a reason
Never hide
From a ghostly guide
Who oversees
You and me
   M  ight Be
   E  very Other You
   S  ee
   S  upernal
   A  ngel In All
   G  uidance
   E   thereal
   S   hifts
With token gifts
Of heavenly drift
Intercepting
Calm and accepting
Playing amidst
Maybe even kissed
By divine
Seraphim bliss

If people can’t see the writing on the wall by now, they’ll never wake up. A military does not transport tons (TONS) of concertina wire, out in the open-not caring if it is seen, unless it is going to be used for something SOON. This wire is used for two things. Keeping enemies out (used to form military wire obstacles), or keeping prisoners in. The cost for transport, manpower to ***** the wire and manufacturing far out way the cost for using the amount we are seeing transported for merely an exercise.
The U.S. military, and other U.S government agencies, are spending way too much time and money for training. Our country’s leaders are scared to death, they are preparing for something big. The speed at which everything is being conducted, prepositioning of assets/ assets relocated, signals to me that whatever has them scared-is just around the corner.
We have China building islands to preposition assets and conducting large scale exercises, and we have Russia in the Ukraine fighting against U.S. equipped and trained troops, and conducting unprecedented military exercise (largest in their country’s history). We have both China and Russia building their own banking systems (AIIB/BRICS) to conduct trade and invest money + they have developed their own money wiring swift system (CHIPS)-circumventing what has always been used.
The Middle Eastern GCC countries are now forming a stonger military alliance so they can efectively operate jointly militarily together in the future, and they have been disusing limiting military weapons contracts with the U.S. They plan to purchase more hardware from their European allies. Why, because the U.S. will no longer be reliable, that’s right, we’ll be too busy dealing with chaos in our own country + weapons manufacturing will come to a complete halt, and they know it.
I believe the 500 days of climate chaos spoken about by the French Foreign Minister, with John Kerry standing at his side, has everything to do with all this. When the real chaos begins: super storms, quakes and volcanos, the U.S will be at its weakest. Much of our military will be oversees, and if you are in the military, plan on being stuck overseas. All Emergency Response Assets: National Guard, FEMA, Red Cross, DHS and other agencies will be overwhelmed. And this is when the U.N will intervene, and all our enemies, from all corners of the earth, will begin their invasion.
The most disturbing part of all this: It has all been planned, we have all been sold out to the global government corporate enterprise. And in case anyone wants to know who is paving the way, who is in charge, who will light the way? All you have to do is tune into the Popes address to our U.S. Congress (first time in history) and his address to the U.N. a few days later - this coming September. He will be the calming voice, the voice of reason, who will begin the process of unifying everyone. If you are not concerned, you should start becoming concerned, because in order for this man’s message to have the correct impact: answers for despair, fear and desperation, things are going to have to be getting pretty bad.
And all this is the perfect example of: Order out of Chaos. This is your New World Order people. I’ll leave you with this, and let it sink in: In a Short Time, This Will Be a Long Time Ago.
SealMan…

I live in a God's complex
A metropolis of facilities all lined up neatly in rows
One by one, each line of an intelligent design
State of the art insulations perfectly enclosing this refuge
An oasis in the cold, safe from outside harm
Sheltering the lost arts of relaxation and comfort

They say God is blind
Oh so precious was the thought
But from this view
I can see everything
And from the inside
I can hear everything
Carry anything
What could ever tear this down?

Who knows
Only God knows
God's elaborate
God's complex
He oversees everything
Hears everything

But they say God was deaf
That God owed them
A heaven in the skies
That he hears everything
The truths and the lies
But God owns a building complex
Behind walls he was confined
He was a terrorist
By the mask that we assigned
An almost architect
A destroyer nonetheless
And through his own believes
He was once an atheist
A teacher, a student
A son, a mother
A father, a daughter
A cynic and a lover
Conformist and traitor, his own creator
A dreamweaver, human creature, Godmaker
Taking up every living space this world had to offer
Settling in, committing sin
Exploiting God's creations, claiming it theirs
Leeching off all that he is within
Taking and taking as God gave them up out of love
One by one the spaces were occupied
The new Gods came


As all the young and old put words in each other's mouths
Fighting for what was once good, now only selfish
Driven by a need
For a purpose, a calling
A self-fulfilling prophecy to create something out of nothing
They talked in circles and shapes
As he
He didn't say a word
And so they thought he was mute
But they just never listened
Inside these last four walls
He will hear everything
When nothing outside exists anymore
When nothing he's created talks back anymore
When nothing moves, and nothing moves him
Dead silence
He's heard enough
And so on the last day he rested
To never return again


God has a building complex

To renovate
Renovate

Renovating the nothingness inside

It is 3:00a.m,
and a cold breeze has suddenly rushed into my room.
These chills seem to have woken me up
to have a conversation with the moon.
The moon that remains so bold,
to shine so bright in such immense darkness.
How brave of her to have the ability to harness the
tarnished cities of which she oversees..
the battered leaves that tomorrow, will leave with the breeze..
the purest hearts that drop down to their knees
in the middle of the street
begging you to please,
have some sympathy..
the thieves that leave with the keys to our hearts,
the ones who said you would never be stranded,
yet you watched them depart.
She sees the things
that wake us out of our coldest dreams.
And yet, her energy bleeds
to relieve the shackles
and loosen your seams.
It seems we don't notice those that breathe,
unless they play a character
in this illusionary theme...
a scheme of how things should be in society.
She observes quietly.
How brave of her to absorb
the reflection of tears
that fall on our floors.
This stillness is something I have come to adore, more and more.
It plays jazz music on the deepest depths of my candescent core.
The door is open, and from myself, I am torn.
I have decided to be bold
like the moon's pull that allowed this ballpoint to roll.
It is time for me to go back to sleep,
and awake reborn.

- L.G.

memory proves god
in that it proves
god
is lazy.  

she oversees bathroom breaks for the crucified.  

I was born without a twin.