the rotten bananas remain on the hook,
browning and sagging,
dispensing a putrid odor into the room
of spoiled sweetness.

the small patches of burnt yellow
become overtaken with dark brown,
like a disease, spreading faster and faster

the tough, impenatrable skin slowly
decays into a soft, mushy clump
that although, is penetrable, is undesirable.

the grasps of my **** as the holder of time to the scales, as if it was my *******: desired inclined of all women of latter time as it's extension of the scaled respective independent selfish ******* as length in time as metered to overtaking body erradicating speed as colloidial motion distressed dementia slowing of all intensity asto contrast of haste of carried love as given of best length as best muscle wide ribbed real phenomenah constituted factuality enters the member of divided all penetrable imaginable intensity of the attitude assertive attentive of the yearn-craved-of all the famish as if actual shared intoaslike reality factual forlorned of the ****** engagement as the cunninlingus hunger of your taste lipped to each attention assertive command of the tongue to sense of even ambrosial scent as if dripping from tongue as licking of even like the contact of the mouth encumbers soul erogenous eroticmentality of the attitude inasif heat intensified feelings of desire attentive controlled of lust as this finality driven to of the seen as actuality of time as desire and as to it's **** as if normalcy actual constant submissively yields to the haste in time as both too and including of all bodies to greet my being as this sexuality superior with my body and **** englistened measured as twisted entertwined range of aim of all bodies to lust of thisity whatness of all to mynest time in relativity of all to feel me as my body pushes up and down ******* eager motion arched to back dig palm ******* as to the ensimultitide  momentum as all here chosen existent pristine envinciation of as invincibility is sacrificed for as if ****** to ****** pain  pain without ******* in all of every real time experience enverbatim and seen enwombed married by what just written;

raised after 1994 post-apartheid
i was thought ultimate freedom is a birth right
more so to the previously dis-advanced
i had freedom, i thought
till i met the big un-penetrable white wall
the descendants from apartheid
racism covered by nice words, teaching and helping
meaning we govern you, you are incapable of self govern
a wall that claims land for a 'superior race'
claims entitlement as payment for teaching and helping

a wall that destroys the human soul
drives the light from eyes
dries young people's bones
a wall that butchers equal to the inquisition
salt, cayenne, lemon rubbed into emotional wounds

"a stolen ox is eaten and forgotten,
but stolen land remains in the eye"
martin Luther king wrote the dream speech 1963
that dream is still just that, a dream
words on paper
hope in the eyes of non-whites
but no closer to reality
the white wall holds

raised after 1994 post-apartheid
i was thought ultimate freedom is a birth right
more so to the previously dis-advanced
i had freedom, i thought
till i met the big un-penetrable white wall
the descendants from apartheid
racism covered by nice words, teaching and helping
meaning we govern you, you are incapable of self govern
a wall that claims land for a 'superior race'
claims entitlement as payment for teaching and helping

a wall that destroys the human soul
drives the light from eyes
dries young people's bones
a wall that butchers equal to the inquisition
salt, cayenne, lemon rubbed into emotional wounds

"a stolen ox is eaten and forgotten,
but stolen land remains in the eye"
martin Luther king wrote the dream speech 1963
that dream is still just that, a dream
words on paper
hope in the eyes of non-whites
but no closer to reality
the white wall holds

Gorse burnt
bird skeleton
laying beneath
stark, white, crumbly
just calcium
a proto-fossil
that lacks the hardness
derived from
aeons encased
in mud
becoming stone
but this one
will never be
its future is dust
mingled with sand

Close by lies
a golf ball
a wayward one
that strayed
from links
to dune
to deform
in the blaze
become blackend
and split
the skin peeled back
opened to reveal
the tight-wound
elastic strands
fused together
yet penetrable
with persistent
small fingers
and unravelled
in exploration
to be left
in an untidy
forgotten pile
once the sac
at the core
is retrieved
within which
thick white paint
to sqeeze forth
and daub
on wall or fence
or kerbstone

This was the day after
fire had torn
through a thicket of gorse
that I and one or two
others had found ablaze
burning red and yellow and orange
hissing and spitting in protest
radiating heat in aromatic miasma
impressing all senses together
and knowing our civic duty
had run breathless
two streets inland
to fire red telephone box
to dial three nines
and deliver the news and wait
for fire red fire engine
to thunder by with shrilling bell
then to follow on, running back
to observe and to claim
with pride our part
in the resolution of danger
only to face accusation
that we must be responsible
for starting the conflagration
our shock and earnest denials
not entirely convincing
even when we protested that
had we been the culprits
then reporting the matter
would be the last consideration
instead, we were told
we'd clearly done the deed
so we could call out the brigade
and though nothing in the end
came of it, I was left convinced
that adult thought patterns
left much to be desired
and were far too convoluted
too suspicious, too impenetrable
to be ever worth adopting

That episode taught me
the magnificence of gorse ablaze
that discoveries were to be
made in the aftermath
that doing the right thing
wasn't always to be advised
that overly suspicious
too officious firemen
were fishing for payback
that if I were to be judged
guilty of the offence
when I was innocent of it
then I had a credit awaiting
in the bank of misdemeanor
so in due course
I made my withdrawal
and lit the gorse
in assembly at school
we were told we should
not hide our light
under a bushel
but I, not knowing
what a bushel was
lit mine under a bush
I did it only once
and though I had a brief
flirtation with Fraid
Her power scared me too much
no great damage was done
no human life lost
or placed in danger
save possibly mine

Cynthia Pauline Jones, 19/10/13

Preoccupation with making something permanent
A feeling of expectation
incorporation of a certain situation
or habitation into life, for good
It makes me freak out.
Desire,
for a certain thing to happen
fear of that something actually happening
Or that it's something that might be permanent.
Worry,
the attempt to find certainty
the desire to control things.
Control you, controlling me
I'm afraid you'll find my black
It will come back again.
It's like an arc weld done incorrectly
Eventually it will start to bleed
And fall apart.
But I dreamt about welding and you welding me
into something permanent
something desirable
something non-penetrable.
You had me molded against the truck and...
I don't know who you are, but you put your fire in me
So deeply it burns.
A fire that firefighters can't dissolve
Doctors can't resolve.
You're in me,
and I love you.

It is starting again.

The busy people around me are too preoccupied to notice it,
Too engrossed in their own little worlds
to give even an iota of attention to its wondrous arrival.
My fast, disorganized thoughts abruptly come to a shocking halt.

Their own little worlds.

Little.

I am taken aback by that single word that stood out
From all of the effusive words inside my nearly bursting mind.

Little.

I dared to describe their worlds little.

Little.

I dared to speak as if what was about to come
Is larger and vaster in terms of size.

Little.

I dared to speak as if it was immensely greater
And more powerful compared to theirs.

Little.

I dared to spit the insult out of my mouth,
But I will not take it back.

It is starting. The time has come once again.

It was once tinier than a speck
But it is now overshadowing everything that its power can take.

Its underestimated power is surprisingly getting stronger.

It is fast approaching and now it has become unstoppable.

They are starting to utter curses and bluster profanities,
Obviously abhorring the unexpected turning of the tables.
In contrast, I feel inexplicably elated.

They are now terrified,
Their uncaring eyes instantly bulging wide
Upon witnessing the boisterous display of its power.
Despite their fears, I feel valiant, certainly brave.

They are beginning to scurry off in haste
To seek for safety and security as they all dashed
To find a confined place, away from the approaching force.
On the contrary, I feel safe out in the open.

They want to escape the settling darkness,
Longing vehemently to see a ray of light
Amidst the perilous surroundings.
On the other hand, I feel comfort and belongingness.

As they all hid themselves away from the inescapable reality
And decided to lock their useless doors and penetrable windows,
I stood still on this copious ground.
I remained stationary as the authentic rubber beneath my old sneakers
Strengthened its affinity with the asphalt ground.

I closed my eyes,
Not to depict a paradigm of disembodying my entire self from reality,
But rather to show how willing I am to accept what was enveloping me.

The monochrome darkness that it possesses was like a vast mirror
Reflecting all the hidden woes and sorrows inside my beating heart.
Then I realized that we did not just resemble each other.
We had become one.

While I disabled my sense of sight for a moment,
Shortly forgot the purpose of my sense of touch,
Ignored completely my sense of smell and my sense of taste,
The one remaining became prominent.

A clamorous sound filled my ears.
It was a deafening scream from the fearsome entity.
The sound banged my eardrums wildly but it did not hurt.
The horrifying sound resonated through my body,
Awakening every dozing part of my being
And eventually giving life to my dying soul.

The loud voice covered the unoccupied land,
Walked through every existing path
And vociferously shouted out its untold sufferings.
During that event, we were still one.
The ear-splitting shriek belonged to us.
The heart aching sound of sheer pain belonged to me.

I felt its blowing frustrations against my lithe body
And it seem like it was trying to knock me down on the hard ground.
Eventually, I realized that I was badly mistaken.

The powerful energy was embracing my tainted personality,
Giving me the pure comfort that I longed to receive.
This formidable entity was vaingloriously above all
But it crouched down to solace a pathetic being
Slumped deep on the filthy ground.
It horrified everybody
But it exerted an effort to put on its caring facade to console me.

I was nothing compared to it and I am about to prove it.
My weakness was about to show as it pooled beneath my lids.
Never did I try to stop it from rolling down my dull cheeks.
It was a bold statement.
I was not worthy of such greatness, nor will I ever be.

It was your usual way of displaying your immense power.
It was my ignominious way of showing how frail and helpless I am.
I cannot fathom how two different things
Could perfectly blend with each other.
I can never fathom how it was possible
But I will forever be grateful
For such a peculiar yet wonderful event happened.
I slowly lifted my head up with my eyes closed shut
And enjoyed the indescribable feeling
As I got soaked down to the core by its liquefied power.

Suddenly, its lengthy cane reached for the cold ground harshly.
I cannot help but flinch in both surprise and fear.
My eyes darted open in order to see what was bound to come.
The unusual-looking cane met the ground once again
With an indignant hit and it was more brutal compared to the first.

Its cane looked immaculate and divine.
It was eye-blindingly bright and such a beautiful sight.
I realized that it was not just a cane angrily meeting the ground.
They were rays of hope intended only for me.

Time passed ever so slowly,
As I stood alone at its overwhelming presence.
Never was I acquainted to anyone, but in this case, anything like this.
It made me feel important.
It made me realize that I am worthy of being comforted,
Being accepted fully as I am and being loved.

I thought it was everlasting.
I assumed its glorious might was never-ending.
The unimaginable power that it made me feel
Was something I have never acquired before.
Everything seemed real to me.

Now it was fading.

The people are slowly unleashing themselves
From their respective refuges while I still stood there,
Hoping for this force to regain its unfathomable power.

I was being selfish.

I begged for it to stay as it is.
I was about to get down on my bruised knees.

I hungered for the power.
I needed the power.
It was my intangible talisman.

The great force was slowly fading.
I felt a new kind of pain as it gradually departed from me.

I wanted more of the unconditional comfort that it made me feel.
I need more of the unworldly love and care that it wholeheartedly gave me.

My pleading was put to waste.
It started to disappear faster.

I cannot do anything to bring it back.
Now it was gone.

I was completely lost.

I am back to being weak and worthless
But there was an evident change in me.

I have become more pathetic in the eyes of many.

I cannot bear their unfair criticisms and overly biased judgment.

I wanted to dissolve.

On the other hand, moving on seemed accepted by society
As a sophisticated decision in comparison to the other.

I took at step,
Moving myself away at a distance so infinitesimal.

I took another and found a menial amount of strength within me,
Instructing me to continue.

No one seems to notice my horrible state.

That was a good thing.

I continued to walk.
My feet became steadier with each step I took
And I began to cover a longer distance.

As I walked, thoughts began to saunter inside my mind.

I will never forget the magnificent sensation that I felt for a short while.
I have to face the agonizing truth that it was gone.

It was nothing compared to paradise.
It was so much more than words could possibly express.

I felt utter remorse at its departure
But something tells me that it will be back for me.

It will soon come back and we will become one again.






I will be waiting until it rains again.

It is harshness, beautiful girl..
but far from being  a cruelty.
I'm trying to find the words  because
you deserve to have the chance,  to choose

   based on the truth of what is  truly loving
    and what is not.

In your need for access to raw,
core survival,  
the machine has put its hooks  in to you  
deep, beautiful girl.

And my only access--  to get through
the machine's intricate gearwork
is unfortunately,  during the time

   when you are struggling most,
   within the greatest of calamities--

But it is at that time.. 
when the highly mechanized machine's,  gearwork
is most penetrable.

So naturally it is at that time,  
   when an intervention
   would  seem, so cruel..


Ah, babe..
I'm not afraid of my love for you
actually killing you..
There is something deep inside your spirit

   that somehow tells you--

That even in the midst of the chaos..
And within even that  which so often
feels  as being cruel..

this might indeed, actually be Love--
The real thing.

But at that level.. who on Earth  could actually
trust that it actually,  could be?
And your well perceived,  perception of cruelty
comes from the fact is it must  seem to you--

That every time you truly open up
your heart to me..   I seem to blast you,
         and knock you to the ground..
when you feel  you need me, most.
I'm still looking for words
to describe it, beautiful girl--

   But it has to do with something..
   somewhere,
   in the Realms of love--

And the things that take it in
And the things that thwart it.

There are not yet human words,
here on Earth, to describe it..

But one day,  my so very beautiful..
I know that one day,  there will.

.of all days, but esp. a day such as this,
so little must happen,
  but at the same time so much can happen,
and it did, later in the day i watched
the magic at wimbledon: cori "coco" gauff
went into the 4th round -
     clinging on to reply with 2 match
points against her...
    coming back in a tie break in the 2nd
set, winning the 3rd 7 - 5...
    and... as ever, of all the grand slams in
tennis... wimbledon is always packed...
fancy seeing a full crowd at either the u.s.
open or roland garose...
   which makes for ****** viewing...
you really do need the crowd there,
the commentary doesn't really matter when
the crowd is there: the crowd and subsequently
the atmosphere... which is a delight
for t.v. viewing...
       but prior?
               the unadulterated pleasure from
physical labour... notably gardening in this example...
mawing the lawn...
  and then cutting down my grape vine:
poor ****** died somehow...
  many a good bottles of wine it did provide...
i'll miss making my own wine...
              but more importantly...
a rekindled sensation i once associated with
physical labour...
   after the work was done...
to sit, smoke a cigarette, have 3 sips of coffee...
and just feel a full-embodiment
without any necessities of thinking,
of the mind,
    to have invested so much much in the body
and so little in the mind...
   physical labour has to be the most
gratifying aspect of life:
    i'm jealous of the men in trades where
physical labour is required...
   how they can block thinking,
while perfecting their physical deeds...
an act of physical labour eventually outstrips
any gratification from that mollusc
    slouch into intellectualism:
esp. if there is no worthy opponent and you're
performing "intellectual" deeds solo...
what permeates from physical of labour
is a clarity of mind,
   esp. in the realm of horticulture...
       but i remember it was the same after
an honest day's work on a construction site...
there is no superior feeling:
not even during or after ***...
                           the body disavows the mind,
it disallows any bothersome minor existential
crisis to enter the foray of man's immediate
circumstance...
    almost all "intellectual" excursions can be
so ****... unsatisfying -
                   it would appear that physical
labour is more rewarding than any
intellectual "labour"...
                         since after the work is done...
both the body and the mind rest...
     unlike the opposite:
         where the body is perhaps at rest,
but the mind continues its "perverted"
                         distaste for a sense of completeness
and its furthered inability to sway
away from prodding abstracts or concrete
observations;
shame about the grape vine...
     making your own wine is probably
the most rewarding part of life -
   well... it was for me.

what made the Freudian question more penetrable is
what made it obvious - asking the same question
whether a housewife needed a kettle
was like asking a bricklayer for trowel -
only the rich payed for the meaning
of dreams... ****... the poor were just given
the fact that, we do, actually dream -
unless it's some over-worldliness or
exacting the unconsciousness of the heart
keeping rhythm to the brain's break from
thinking in the cranium cinema -
ah yes, hierarchy; hierarchy hierarchy hierarchy,
no Saddam Hussein then to bother?
ah ****, there was. too bad, make more mistakes,
that'll be a fine excuse for being human,
given the fact that when waiters make mistakes
we turn blue with rage and call for a happy meal -
i don't know what women want,
and to be honest, i don't care -
if a house is an extension of a woman i already know
the perks of wants presupposed -
man wants sea, Norse, man wants desert, Arab -
there's nothing worth noting for him to
simply settle down and watch television or
become a gamer - there are dinosaurs about with
that theory - beware.
Big Benjamin will be hushed for a year -
just recently renamed Tower E -
but what's that? glory be to Darwin in the highest?
championing Darwinism to simply speak
a valid point will make art suffer -
it's not longer Charles II with a cravat but
fur - plus it's impossible to start from there,
better to start from a deviation like from ****** into
wholehearted matrimony - choose a negative and
improve on it, why bother a positive chimp variation?
what progress comes from that? Gorillas aren't exactly
harassed by felines in the thick jungle, or if they are,
no more than Africa-Americans in their own cars
without guns but with gun permits - which means that
Americans are more likely to own gun permits than
passports, forget the fables of ***** Dancing and
the hopes of a Roman Holiday... it's Iowa-time right now...
gonna get smaller by the day -
existence via the bungalow - and a society where there's
a friction concerning not-having-read-philosophy
and having-read-philosophy, but it won't change for either
faction, both will be diagnosed as mad for the sake of
leisure activities continuing and pharma selling.
Denmark will flourish and Iceland and
what Darwinist scientists should have concentrated on:
shorter time-frame, evolution of Scandinavians -
what the Chinese already done and the Blue Indians tilting
the earth's gravity east with their 'made in China' #madeinchina...
but in a country that regards reading Kierkegaard
as allocating the diagnosis of schizophrenia...
you beg to differ and turn dialectics into warring -
this is England 2016 - by god man, don't read
books! read seagulls regurgitating chip-mush via
the media! don't you read books in England! don't!
i warn you! and remember that the internet doesn't
exist for journalists, esp. those writing opinion pieces!
it's not reality for them (the content) - a computer is
real, but anything on it isn't - thank you very much
for the social aspect of the internet coupled with
globalisation and the non-existent village or neighbour -
thank you... it's just a defence mechanism,
the internet is without authority - the printed press
has authority looming over it - the best time to write
a load of ******* not bothersome about money.

p.s. i hate the argument from the perspective
of exercise... i see exercise as pointless...
working, doing something, goal orientation
within the confines of one organism to another,
losing weight is such a vain goal /
purpose to execrise and all that scientific jargon
about releasing your... this receptor,
that receptor, this chemical that chemica...
*******...
     mawing the lawn and cutting a grape vine...
exercise... but more importantly:
a very organic end goal.

I thought it was a mission...
A mission to your heart, your soul... Your ugly mind.
One that confuses and abuses what it is that was honest and genuine love that I carried for years and years only for you to help shed my tears and have them travel down the path in which they have gone before..

Down..

No more, NO!
Let me go. Keep my sweater and let it warm your cold, shiverish spew that you so soldemly spit when you share your venomous words.
You burned me..helped show and discerned me.
You allowed yourself to grab me like a rebound and then drop me...without there being any sound. No smack! No crash...just a silent shatter in which I'm still picking up the pieces of our fallen glasses...healing all the small cuts and closing my eyes in which I still hear your voice, see your whispers..."I love you"
(I laugh) (you lie)
Months and months later...I realized that I over exhausted my efforts in my tries.
I wanted to heal an already broken heart, dismantled mind
You wanted to drink your pain away and waste just a few more hours of our precious time.
Until that one time...no protection
No safety to what was penetrable in the lust of what was mistaken to be love... Transformed into hate. Into a whirlwind of fear. Into a reflection in which you and I stare... And months later... Now see nothing.
I cowered down to my knees and will never let you do that again, will never let you back into my soul...will never consider you a true and real friend.
Since you dissect only the what it is you need... In which it is your empty heart you feed, while your ignorance slowly bleeds...out. Black blood and darkness...an Angels dark kiss
In the mist she awaits...to hunt on yet, another hopeless mind.

Infatuation creates a shadow that makes us blind.

You were different, miss
You were insane, miss
You were an inspiration, miss
You were easy, miss
Simple, miss
You were...love, miss
Or was it hate, miss?
You were trapped freedom, miss
A dark dream, miss
A shallow bliss, miss

But I say goodbye, miss

Because the truth is, miss

You won't be,

*Missed.

There’s a factory on the outskirts
of town.
On the outskirts of the universe.
They fabricate bones there, and
crack open stars like eggs.
Stars and eggs share many qualities.
They have an outer shell, and it’s
penetrable, and delicate.
This delicate wall is holding the
juices of life.
One crack, two cracks, three, and
a flood gate crumbles and
life comes rushing in. Life juice,
star juice. They pour star juice in our eyes
and sow skin.
They put a mountain in one sown figure and
call it man,
They put an ocean in another and call it woman.
I was manufactured, factored,
a factor, it’s
Fact: in reality, in actual actuality.

The warm, fleshy cavity above your ***-chasm,
A crown jewelled with ruby shards.
Natural worm sauna with tunnels that slide through your body -
Feeling for a bed of penetrable goo.
The life-sanctum twitches and spreads itself among the welcomed visitors
And with heavy breaths heaving the walls,
And hands that push and pull with a
Warmth to make little sighs come to life
In a breathing, heaving ***-orchestra.

Telling a lie
Always wanting to shine
When really I was polished the wrong way
My heart was really on decline

Saying her name
Used to be a praise
Now all it is
Is just a way to go down
And cry
Wishing she was mine again
When really she being gone
Was my pilgrimage to a great revival

Very vital
For my arrival that
I stay mindful
Of my trifles
Due to how I’m always tripping on the cracks
That makes everything black
Activating my brain
And making me rage
Since my temper is on edge
With my neck
That is carrying a lot of the sweat I get
From ******* tryna wreak my moderation
Tryna give me a education
In how to be substandard
And Rendered into something  
Worst than America giving a Cheeto
The leveage to all of our bombs

So now I’m just thinking about what you did wrong
Instead of my flaws
I’m reminding you of what you missed on
Always catching wrong
Missing all shots
Finally hit a home run
But didn’t run
Instead you walked away
And became a snob
Who couldn’t turn a ****
As if it was Brittney telling a song
Without hatred and love

Always switching up to benefit your life
But messing with my redefined mind
Which has no space to give you my time
So I’ma make this short and give you a new comprehension

Don’t look at me
Don’t say you gonna love
Or that you gonna **** me
Because all you really doing is lying to yourself
Because I’m non penetrable
Due to my thick skull
That’s always getting dull from whenever you wanna score
Instead you fumble
Like the dolphins in the playoffs
Now I wish you good luck
Since your sorry *** just loss all your luck
When you left me taking a piece of my
❤️

To all those who reach this earth decomposing,
May you reenter this planet with vivacity
Run free with the sparkle of life.
I hunger to hunger as deep as you
To never cease
To have a penetrable mind
To understand the curves of my body do not restrict my movement
I will move past the bend in my spine
The arch of my foot
The joints in my arms
I will run faster than my legs can carry me
To the army of open arms,
You spread harmony among the masses
We are equal in your eyes
I will become instinct and reaction
I will be the flight to your fight
You have given us wings.
To you who have returned against “never”
May you prosper on this ancient land you’ve left
You beacon of hope to those of us with forgotten dreams
And broken promises
You are the exception, and therefore the healer
May we hold on to the hope this brings us
May we too break rules and skew pattern.
Thank you, you the soldiers of woe
Clearing the path of the heavy weights on our souls
The sickness before the health
And the parting do us death

Thursday

week has slo~mo’ed, edged on, visitors gone,
two and half rain days, but a mere coincidence (?),
it’s appearance, their concomitant dis-appearance,
inclemency has kept us closeted and cozily, but not a-lonely,
for the world’s tumult~tilting-plane distracting enough,
its axis! seems more than a few degrees a-kilter,
(lively, lovely word, rarely used), and since when have I awoken with
mine eyes have seen the dripping rhymes, for my germanic-jewish
is pretty prosaic, my musings confined to a middle-of -the-night “thingie,” but here and hear I am jingling away in anticipation of a rain-all-day situation, and frankly, a tad less political west wing,
King Lear worthy drama, polarizing, thee-ate-her, might incentivize an exciting trip to the emerald isle’s solitary gas station and IGA supermarket (weekend supplies for the newest arriving morrow-guest-mongers,) for sure-as-right-as-rain-it-will-be-ceasing,
they will be soon enough be landing by F-Day (3) ferry, on the morrow, with their own Shakespearean screenplay, and many compliments on the verdancy (a previous never employed actor’s verbosity) of our tree encased, oak surrounded, tiny cottage hideaway, where we are all the world’s a stage, and we, the designated locked down, can be all ~ heavenly host, wait staff, sommeliers, and most importantly, their captive audience members…for their small life’s litle newest pieces, require us to be fully updated…

enough folderol! first glance reveals wet everything, windows moisture painted; and a halfway penetrable fog  means incautious
summer drivers will be out mise en vigueur, french for ‘in force’, testing their luck upon our ****, curvaceous, ample bosomed hilllock roads, (stop),  excited by their chance to prove their stupid mettle…and their auto’s european superior brakes & suspension…

so the six am borderline of unofficial time division has passed and it is still Thursday, still wet, fog-ever-so-light touch lifting, and the challenges of writing a good piece of poem, yet sizzling in the mind’s frying pan, is still a long haul walk down the creaky corridor to the
just-kitchen ing ya, and the bed’s seductive dulcets.
singing why not “Stay (just a little bit longer”) (1)…

thus throughly convinced, bury dreams of Javanese Enlightenment within the seducing drowsed plumpness of my pillow
unti they arrive in force, but that is a different story already written…(2)

<>

Stay… ah, just a little bit longer
(Please) please, please, please, please
Tell me that you're going to
… Now your daddy don't mind
And your mommy don't mind
If we have another dance, yeah
Just one more, one more time
… Oh, won't you stay, just a little bit longer
Please let me hear
You say that you will, say you will
… Won't you place your sweet lips to mine
Won't you say you love me all the time
… oh, yeah, just a little bit longer
(Please) please, please, please, please
Tell me you're going to
… Come on, come on, come on (stay), yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on, come on, come on (stay), yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Come on, come on, come on (stay), ooh, la-de-da
Come on, come on, come on (stay), my, my, my, my

be soft, be mellow, be gentle. let the waves wash over you, let the sea foam dissolve your bones. your voice must be a constant whisper, your eyes open and glitter bright. the world will bend you, break you, destroy you; be cautious but never guarded. build walls that are easily penetrable, let your thoughts never pierce, only persuade. the touch you leave behind must be prints and not scars, the smile you radiate must be all sun and never the moon. hear with the intent of hearing, hear but never be heard. move with grace, let your presence be fleeting and enshrouded in shadows.

-

i am the tempest roaring, the quiet after the storm. i house a galaxy between my lungs, constellations dotting the insides of my mind. my thoughts are a labyrinth you cannot even begin to fathom; when i speak thunder rolls, lightning strikes. i will go where the wind calls me, i will illuminate the darkness. my voice is the chimes of bells. be strong, be firm, be swift. the world has tried to break me, but i have never been destroyed. the touch i leave behind burns like fire and soothes like silk, the smile i hold curves like the crescent moon. i hear with the intent of understanding, i speak to be heard. the waves crash beneath my feet and -

i will not apologise for being me.

(A.H.Z)

a feature
of drama
now in
her proposal
my palpable
fave of
penetrable cave
as starlet's
life in
director of
dream she
dance her
tassel to
this soundtrack
of ska
with a
street presence

The colors in this mood ring are constantly changing along with these mood swings; I don't know what I'm feeling.
The music in my mind is what I have defined as the feelings I can find in my heart where they're confined.
My stomach holds these butterflies that reveal the insecurity in my eyes; I do my best to disguise it, however, it remains exposed despite how hard I try.
My heart has a beat that tends to deplete
the energy I have; I have to retreat from telling you I'm incomplete.
The closer I get to you, I obtain these different point of views; breaking down walls I didn't think I'd break through and reliving this painful déjà vu.
I'm perplexed as to how to confess and express the feelings I suppress; am I stressed? Obsessed? Depressed? Rather fall of a bridge than in love cuz it hurts less.
My heart has become external; on my shoulder, it sits so vulnerable. Around my enemies, it's durable; around you, it's penetrable.
My eyes, though closed from being weary and red from being teary, clearly are expressed as being dreary.
These butterflies have turned into bees;
as they sting, I drop to my knees. Like a disease to the highest degree, I'm eaten alive from the inside out by these.
The music that was playing is now betraying and dismaying; displaying the decaying of my once robustious ways.
How can this mood ring define what I'm feeling if a color represents one thing but I feel love, pain, fear and anxiety? Tell me please... I'm breaking..

like Jericho of the ancients
my walls have found their matchmate, their shofar,
their holy crumbling disintegration -
have sounded the depth
of my abyssal and penetrable, vaginal soul

I am entered through the desolated and tender crevasse
discovered in the arched vault of my love
which treasures not, nor needs
yet knows ee cummings’ “secret of begin” to the outer
borders of my being, the hidden places of my knowing

the right kind of madness, this
of a rightness and a madness so pure, it stings
the perceptions of ordinariness and
makes of ennui - the sinter of a heated being -
anything but

yet, enter my fornix with dread and awe
lest you vitrify it by atomic waves of sorrow
I am fragile, and tender, gentle, strong and destructive
I am death from Life
and
Life from Death

blow your shofar, Ram, and I shall fall into your gravity
I shall be as Callisto to Jupiter,
an orbit by seduction and a
child wombed in Love


c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater

As time swirls around,
yet still managing to drain me of my essence,
I now struggle with the strength needed
to read, persevere, understand,
to try, love, and live

Once upon a time,
this person with a book could last for eternity
the characters' light never failed to reach
within to a clumsy, pure spirit
all words were full of beauty, meaning,
and something to shield a hurt, soft, soul
from reality's greater, never ending, flaws

All along, I was completely sure of myself
as a soul of humanity's good,
a warm, comforting light to they
who were lost, with no sense of direction
such as me,

Then, the moments arrive
where a person discovers every flaw of themselves,
where a never ending strength
could morph into relentless anger and remorse,

Where I discover
I am far too much of a
penetrable, ignorant, weak characterized being
lacking a will with enough strength
to rid oneself of even the most smallest fears,

I have grown with time
in some ways others could notice,
although a new, clear view of the world
has its great toll of compromises,

But, deep in the hollow, damp, cave
something has remained the same,

There is a gray, forever shifting
impossible shallowless
that shadows me everywhere
regardless of what I change
despite all the efforts, and how much I try,

Nowadays, I peer with wide eyes into the darkness
and succumb to a lavishly dark thought,
that this must be where
all of humanity conjured up
the elastic, nerve racking, electric,
frightening idea of
a so called fate,

I feel numb,
as if somehow already perceiving
every choice, feeling, action, word, is pointless
as if already knowing
yes, no matter how much you try
some things really are, forever impossible.

I can't discover anything
that will bring a soul
out a creeping, old well full of
densely dark oil,
containing someone with a
slippery grasp on their surroundings

and a very, very
heavy heart

I no longer want to look at words,
they swim in my head
and corner my pitiful, strenuous brain
that tries each day, to make sense
of everything that appears to be senseless,

I'd like to get away
from everything fluorescent and slick, and retreat to the corners
of a wooden, green, world filled with
sunshine, and blossoming,
sharp-witted flowers,

I'd like to take a moment appreciating
autumn leaves swirl in crisp, refreshing air,
rather than having to shiver from the
relentless cold, that each day forces my will
to desire only two things:
my bedroom,
and solitude

I'd like to decide, for once,
what I do,
how I live,
and where I would like to end up.

our grasslands,frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving  carries     the full moon  
things you know ,under stilts- day/&night; /\are off ,,,, raspberry,
discontent,  its in  my winter,  / in  my seasons/  mother  fuggazii a neatt blueberry /trimed, neat
  

  ,                        
,bespoken// man off the hour Onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitches  .Onegin \Onegin \Gerianne-
astute,!!! many many-floors up, piping- cleaning,every quarter the clouds/masquerade ,this is cat______
to,,, through ,,through,,n,moved, a-blue,, temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane
evn more, man , means  pristine,adhoc ,reminisce wt i was wt wht wht ever i was
end-knot, end knot yet waas itt it was probable most likely
immeasurable , -penetrable the - wild/man go take a look beckons/you hey  the  ribbons the  knots
knots  the wrought what for/wt for noww  door to door
tropic tropic endemic you hear wt you see you lurch you b you b you believe sort  off  
on my sideAusual-revival A rendition again  again and lifee-like -ride
and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers rose swells . fine
inn smoke  -reels/ ncapabl,,indecicve ne more dayy nd through
th moors,,a week goes
mayb a month a long intention  itt- sooths./all the more doggs
onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat to,,, through ,,,,,moved , a-blue,, temple
a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now Buddha, a simpleton/buddah
geriane droggs onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,
pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat

to,,, through ,,,,,moved, a-blue,, temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane
,, miniature lamps,,blizzards all that can in a man/rigour
all that hula hoop possibly a merry christmass,,dayys spent ,,,  full you  are all that is
sire a \all the pleasures off a small room full off all the kool tools an art decoo sire by now you know it all thecrystal fairies in blue crystall *****    
,pretty slick,,,runs ,piping hott ,, undone &the; buddha, the-rider,, the- boxes,,,layaway
the glistering the beaming, all  the book keeping a philistine, if i mayy

impeccable, and  free glitters all  the hourrs,a\ repliccaa just a beguiling  taste ,\
,sire,,little empty purposely,, masterfully done,,,sire beefy ,,sire,and, plenty-full
surelyy the nectar bequeaths
( projected .mediocre , mister faires in ferries  shimmering  dearest of stories
  / wings/reminising      buddah     buddah.    
  an artt decoo sire,,,a purple tea *** in which we drink our tea,

,,mirrors,,, the very best in the pristine the mannequins,,all the more
the -buddha,the-rider,, the- boxes,,,,sire iff only i may evn more
from wt i was endless immeasurable the - wild/beckons/ ribbons and knots
knots what for/ door to door  tropic
day/&night; /i was i would on my side
Ausual-revival  Arendition again  again  and  lifee-like -ride
and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers  rose swells . fine
our grasslands,you know , stilts  frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving
in smoke  -reels/incapabl,,indecicve  one more dayy and through  th moors
are off ,,,, raspberry,discontent  / neatt/  mother  fuggazii ,,
a week goes  mayb a month a long intention, itt- sooths./all the more

coldest,yet An ongoing black screen, then you came   colored coldd eminence  at al times
around me,   the birds,forrow Here burning,  Orange yello/blue brigand
In a lot, and  the cloud,  the grasslands to let me in,  dollor man
a board, a bloom Buddha, a simpleton ,  slanted/ forever possibily
  glistering/the ice cones,gingivitis floating away    /balloons
Above//   before beyond   half  half ,exciting  Elicit, , derelict,  
,  /never closing  a fantasia what i mean when i need  
   rerun .the chapters <retort>     there's a god  today in this moment and i can feel  it  .
   "jessica"\    ( the drudge   ducks   dips digs more and more
     won't stopp)       diners too many  tea  
  <>>>>\        stays afloat,        dispels /beaten /scowls   scary ,all-of jiggling/kepp bouncying
     ><weeds out / >minuscules         ripes/renders
         <jessica>>>>jamboree          come face me.
     the grandest / all  the oddities     one magic invention i was missing all this time
    transgression/ kindda may be timid /    my jive /our rruby/mouthing
a last supper if you will .something akin    reasons /acuity/  th more the merrierer
   my bliss/slits    till-kingdom comes .   / & the black space everywhere in
   them the/many minds    all the more    \><citadel.come and go touch of gold
   see to believe              &&&&  <    deep blue lakes that  never end
their rune and it  returns  a ship on her chest
that i will reach places un dreamt of   will   returnn  > there. everyplace
                        
                  
   still passionate  though    /frothing/foams  "jeddah" "a simpleton, gives wayy too ".
the landscapes.an excerptluxomberg- along the /tumultus ,dry  the same dayy footing it foams  2 itt noww,,a cold..trance ,, embezeled !! forr ,regressed. ,thoseof us VISIBL- Keene
it is finally-plenteous breathing!a more juniper  . . cold. \ invisible,grooming////      
  turns outt_..... ) .same dayys, for ever,evoles the delicate, the muffin menin muffin coats
/,/renders the arc  dayy 5 on the road is lunch  now ............
along the heavy points 4pm same dayy a brown tea *** so nicely preserved but off no grater utility just a brown tea pottt  37 -38 ..........just likk thatt
.... kindda winds up ,,wry now ....the fckig landscape.an excerpt  luxomberg
alice springs.carrie. chapter 1,the landscapes 2.pm preemtive.the-blue-acron in chrome  i-would know _ -as forr a while  ,(radio rahim....) for you ,tic-trackks,tic-trackks viggelntees) a vigill,


step1 : sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all step2 : sudo apt-get --purge autoremove xserver-xorg-input-all && sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all

“I’m ok.” “I’m fine.” Two constant affirmations I fool everyone around me with.
Everyday they ask, “How are you?” and my general answer is either of the two lies I’ve grown accustomed to say.
Am I that good at acting? Have I finally mastered the art of pretending that no one can see that those affirmations are expressed through eyes so tired of crying, a mouth swollen from biting back screams, and a heart so empty?

Everyday I put on my fake happy mask, hoping that no one will notice how broken I really am.
But a part of me, albeit a small part, is begging and hoping that someone, anyone would just grab me and look past my façade.
I desperately want, no, need someone to just search through my eyes, see past my fake smile and tell me “You’re not okay.”

Is that too much to ask? Someone to just tell me that they know I’m not fine.
That it’s okay I’m not okay, that they’re here for me?
But I know it’s impossible. I burn the bridges people make before they even lay a foot on it.
I build my walls higher until it’s no longer penetrable.
I push people away, fearing that I’ll only end up with more tears and sleepless nights.
And yet I crave care.

See how ****** up I am?

I wish…I just wish that someone would actually be brave enough to rebuild the bridges I’ve burned, break down the walls I’ve built, no matter how hard it may be, and just tell me,

“You’re not alone.”

I'm always played out,
now, pulsing in my hard shell,
hungry hopeful thighs,
unstoppable but sometimes very slow
mind.

I've no one to
address these to, come to
the window and see.

Give me a reason
to let it all go, come and
make it make sense
and I swear I

have wings as wide as the world
to show you,
colorful,
penetrable,
hungry,
we will

rewrite the world

us two

I know we fight
(a lot)
I call you
horrible things that I rarely mean
and you take them
in, your thick skin
repels them
(except when it doesn't)
(because sometimes it doesn’t, I'm sure)

and yes
you hurt me too
sometimes without even trying
I envy
how easily some things come to you
things I can't seem to grasp
I feel inferior
and sometimes you try
and you taunt and jeer and jab
and unlike you
my skin is thin and
penetrable

but
I'm writing this
because you're the only one I have
I realized that
at dinner
last night
when the tension in the air
made my lip curl
like it reeked
and I felt hatred
prickling my skin
leeching out like steam

so
when the day comes
and our world has fallen around us
(hasn't it already?)
the only one
I will reach for
to pull to the surface
with me
through the crumbling
fragments
of false stability
and weak promises
to gasp
for a breath of
that weightless type of air
I ache to someday reach
is you

My stomach is tingling,
Appetite or illness?

Telepathic touch
It surfaces, before I notice myself asking.
In form and instinct he knows me,
But in origin, our intuition’s slacked.
I haven’t exposed my truths,
What I might’ve thrown out, could’ve  mislead.

Agony nudges gently;
You aren’t worthy of love she says
You’re repulsive.
You’re sinful.
You’re ***** and inedible
People try to help you but you don’t want to be helped.
Her tone is generous, attentive, loyal.

With these words I perish;
“Stop you’re melting me, aw God”
He kisses me and swoons onto my chest, smearing my body on the sheets.
The juncture of my withdrawal alights.

My blinkered eyes trudge the familiar trail, but then fixate,
-a penetrable route disguised.
take the tired track or trod the untrodden?
Perplexed in ponder I whisper in trance
Quiescent terrain ...quiescent terrain?

He’s snores as I lift my head from his belly
"...an amaurotic trial".
Squeeze. The soiled sack flattens against the lip of his favourite mug,
Adorned; those pungent, final drops.

The frisk evening air lifts my limbs and I wave as I always do.
Thanks for everything, as he always does,
Get home safe, as I always do.

Lingering or loitering,
I brace for his lips to flourish as his leg hooks the infamous green frame.
"I’ve been admiring your bike, I keep seeing it around"
Such sweet beginnings,
Such oblivion to an end.

He nods.
Farewell, and may we meet again in happier times?
Perhaps.

I step inside,
Retreating to what is known;
a path that has been walked before.

three seagulls, four black kites, flocks of sea birds flying
in midair, suspended in the air suddenly, falling wildly, traumatised
eyes strike waves rougher, vivid incandescence, agonised
attacking the shore, piercing and intent, defying
a dead man's eyes, rough waves changing to ripples lying
beneath the sky, spreading beyond reefs and rocks, historicised
and memories, memorised scenes outlive experiences inhuman, recognised
and summoned, summoning up images magnifying
the psychic repression of desire uncomfortable, unbearable, surviving
is impossible, fear of losing light is imminent, immanency of light refused
to be penetrable, displacing immanency by equilibrium, imbalance in
flight, rebuked suspension of flying and falling in dim light, arriving
morning, horizontal hopes are unnoticeably bemused
dimming, whither, thereof being holistic

Speak those pleasant words to me
You mean
I mean
Speak about regrets speak about neglect
Speak about inconsistency
Insist to me that you want me
Lest you detest me
Well I detest thee for simply thinking
Your stupid self being ******* maybe horseshit you *******
Who even gives a **** you **** surrealist
This deliberate nonsensical, fourth wall penetrable, rule breaking hell of all
Is you
You blew your chance
Now, dance, dance, dance
At a glance it seems alright
Write those wrongs long gone
The ink stained on
Lest you forget
I bet you want me
A beautiful soliloquy
Well, stop staring at me answer me, answer me, ANSWER ME
I need you to feel me, carry me, believe in me
Can't you see the dotted line?
I want you
But that makes one of two
So, speak those pleasant words to me
I don’t want you
Oh you…
-A.P

The other day at school, Boy1 sent a full-length photo of me sitting in the hallway to Boy2. Offering my body, my self, as a gift.

objectified                                used
         trapped                                              guilty                          at fault
                                    ugly
                                                                       hollow
      *****
                   fragile                      wrong              
                                                                                           empty
             unworthy
                                                                                                   weak
                                             penetrable
                                                    impure
          cheap                                                                 used
                                  objectified

Living in the metropolis of tumescence of vast objectivity
Rabbles and roads and rolling ditches, some damsel being diminutive
Rambunctious raucous youths of roaring tigers in rearing farms
Raging lions in the rhapsody of bellicose bullish belligerence like diction
A corporeal of positively rhapsodic feeling ****** with George and gorges, protean germinus
The syllabi of syllogisms and schisms and oysters smitten truth and hidden haikus
Forsakes scientific fact and *****-shriveling act perniciously for thespian spring fixes
Invectives, ice, and censuring fornicate in an intermittent visceral vision of eternal springs
Of attainable wisdom willfully stirs the ***
Inferrable this clear existence in this penetrable mind can be called pleasant and puerile
Unperturbed and undulating do not work together unless zaftig and scrumptious like scones on summer sign
About your corsets strangulating and stifling your instincts' seceding their senses to the serene providence
Adumbrating the vacillating mind of a God-like might
Stagnancy stoking storied sullen somnambulant sadistically serried, Zeus caring and giving
Dreaming is a pain, dreaming is a chain
But, not in a maiden's caregiving nature
It isn't rudimentary to eat at each letter of this basal dictionary, as words expand in the context
Like the word is word, so spread it and mean it
Just like your legs, just to make sure that the words don't hurt