what's the biggest difference
between 20th century's
french and german
existentialism,
    and the 21st century's
primarily, anglo-sphere,
realisation of an existential
   "crisis"...
           anti-jew meme...
         the globalist octopus...
imagine...
     some people have
recovered from an existential
crisis, having established
vast constructs of thought
way back in the 20th century,
namely
the french, and the germans..
but...
my oh my oh my my...
the anglo-sphere of linguistics
has only, "just now"
awoken to this...
   quiet a predicament,
wouldn't you say?
                         fertile ground...
oh sure, there was existential
angst in the anglo-
sphere among irish
pillars...
                beckett, joyce...
but concrete architectures
of thought, regarding existentialism,
seem to be absent...
  so... counter-argument:
so how come i can
freely buy a copy of some
german philosopher,
a french novelist turned
philosopher...
           but...
  i'm skint... when it comes
to english thinkers more
or less associated with
my status, rather than stance,
on contemporary "translation"?
   elitism...
no... it's not that...
      i could have just well
have procured
a life helping out my father
in industrial roofing...
             i didn't mind roofing...
it's not an exactly pristine
labour of love sort
of environment...
the scottish widows' h.q.
roof near st. paul's?
        me.
   i was part of that
monstrosity...
       but... come again?
but there are some many attachment
cursors when it comes
to an anglican take
on "revising" continental
existentialism...
        whatever crisis
the continental people
felt, and consolidated
the 20th century people...
is only just starting to bud
in the anglo-phonic world...
start-up, island,
end result,
    h'america and australia...
there was never a question
as to why, or if,
the english-speaking
people would ever entertain
existentialism,
but, suddenly they are,
at least starting to look
into the pit,
from their ivory towers...
immediate escape
impetus?
      reach for the fictive
narrative,
                disavow journalism...
make journalism bedfellows
with political rhetoric...
there's no debate...
circus, however you look
at it...
             you can't fathom
an abstract variant
of the german or the french
mind, gripped by
an existential critique,
a piquancy,
    a pedantry...
in the english speaking world...
there are,
just simply...
   too many attachments
to deal with...
       - growing a beard:
meant exactly that -
eat ****.    
         i don't see where
there a "me" to be found
in a (0, 0) starting space,
of net-worth-"work"...
     coumpters-freeze
network...
for a language...
that ridiculed,
or became succinct
in succumbing
to its anglo-preferences
of objectifying counter-standards
for its own...
shortcomings...

  what has 20th century
existential philosophy have
to do with "anything",
esp. if arrived from
the either french
of german, cultures?

we have Joe Slave over 'ere...
oh right... sorry...
paweł nowak....
just took joe stephen slave's
role was
the person, the hands,
in a recycling factory...
do you mind?
  rather:
do you mind...
teaching your natives...
   to...
   and you know how that
cindarella story ends...

introducing existentialism
to the brits and,
generally,
  the anglican variety of
the tongue, being
used...
   will end up as, failure...
the 20th century
taught me this,
the irish failed,
the french
and the germans...
basically a "foreign" idea
is more than just...
******..
the people are ******,
with paradoxes
of their women...

                sure... a bit like
Iceland...
oh, ****, a bit too close
to the continent...
like madagascar
  is to africa...
and sri lanka is to india?
i'm not 'ere to care to
the idiosyncratic
concerns of island people...
contra the, "collective"...

island people will forever
remain island people,
"solipsistic", idiosyncratic,
idioms...
            i can't change that...
always prone to export...
but never to import...
    island people,
       the **** is there to say?
ever bewilder yourself
over chanel 4 news...
and how...
  john snow is slipping
into dementia?
      you listen to the cue?
no?
                  sorry... john...
dementia on the horizon...

attempting to adapt
existentialism into england
will fail,
given their moral high-ground
of the "migrant crisis"...
it's an island...
  the borders are clarifying,
distinct,
        sure, the people can be *****
when their language
is bored in being
a "lingua franca"...
         but other people have
other, in-debt defences...

western slavs?
ever hear a spaniard speak
pollack, just because
he hiked with a polish girl?
yeah... mahler...
                       violins and ****...
you only listen:
                  for an idea...
it comes, it comes,
it doesn't come...
well... you move onto
some khachaturian...
        so,                 no biggie...

you can't import continetal
thinking to an island people,
they have no concept
of borders...
their naive presupposing
barrier, centered-ground is
unshakeable...

   existential philosophy
"meme" rate of survival is... ?
0.1,
binary, negation, an affirmative
statement,
and then the fiasco...

       it doesn't help
that there's an alternative
outlet via h'america or australia...
i'm not looking
at the "bigger picture",
when there isn't one...

     20th century existentialism
will not work in 21st century england,
or any english-speaking world
to begin with...
there are just, too many,
attachment points,
         as many nurtured
nostalgia avenues
as there are amnesia riddled
currencies of attention
exhaustion...
        it's just a pristine model
to revive the serf...

there's no point reading existentialism
to a people,
so far lodged in their
isolationism that they
can claim, both an island-stature...
and two continents,
by extension
       of stating: "being aware"...      

i guess you have to be born
on the continent
to read anything by 20th century
writers,
but... trying to implement
the word...
into the idiosyncrasy
of island-dwelling people,
akin to the English?

                    i'm not even going
to bother trying...
they're island-folk...
   they "think" of borders akin
to coastlines...
and not migration
fake bordering of a contradiction
of peoples occupying
a quicksand pit
of looking at a geography map...
island-folk...
  they know border...
because they know... island...

you can't translate
something that's already
paradoxical to them
  (hypocritical, is not a milder
term of usage for the desired
execution)...
     no...
                not going to happen...
two islands,
some set of continental enclaves...
culture...
whatever you want...

             i've lived with them,
even though i've lived pretty much
among either the irish migrants,
or the scots...
    you're not going to translate
an island, into a continent's
auxiliary...
  right now...
you'd think that
   Estonia would become
characteristic of an island-people
auxiliary mentality...

       i can't blame these people
though...
   an island environment
provides an island people
mentality...
    if you have never been
part of a congregation,
geographically...
   yes...
      but they're borrowing
continental idiosyncracy...
****** *****...

   Iceland?
            yeah... oh yeah...
they're hot on the topic of what
island life is like...
being so...
   conservative that they even
have developed apps
for people to check their
genetic proximity
and any immediacy to live,
+ baggage...

      the Brits were always 'ere...
the Icelandisch?
were always there...
          and...
  sorry... for the already given
postcard: wish you were
here analogy of...
            curiosity killed
the cat...

           but island dwelling people
will always be,
an island dwelling people...
right now,
you do what i do...
you play chamaleon...
  "sociopath"...
                you...
begin with: a-pathy...
          without pathology
looking for... what requires
you to mingle with the most
pathological examples of
a hushed sanity of society...

          and...
          your luck, as well as mine...
nothing really happens...
like butter smeared
over a gently toasted
piece of toast.

hello tomorrow.

Straight talk is known for high quality mobile phones. These to are the combined advanced features along with impressive layouts. Check out the gives broadest collection of models with many features. These types of mobile phone models focus on unique classes of shoppers for unique cost range. Straight talk E251 Mobile phone is but one these kinds of superb mobile phone and that is specifically designed regarding songs lovers. Besides audio capabilities, there are lots of more features that happen to be estimated coming from a quality phone.

The following Sony mobile phone has got slider sort element. Its dimensions are Ninety nine.Several back button Forty-nine.Five back button 18.A person mm. That attributes an excellent computer screen which assists 65K shades and has now res of 128 y A hundred p. This demonstrates graphics as well as text along with good clearness. Ram with the mobile phone allows approximately One thousand phone directory synonyms each time. Furthermore, it helps to keep number of get in touch with information such as neglected telephone calls, got message or calls and also dialed calling. Them continues 25 data of the sort.

The vast majority of latest mobile phones get tunes attributes. Get ready to enjoy songs whenever and anyplace. The following phone is equipped with FM Radio along with a very good music player. Its content has AAC, Audio, AAC+ composites for better superior. Furthermore, it has poly-phonic ringers.

This Sony cell phone characteristics GPRS along with EDGE technologies. It is quite great for those who wish to use advanced technological innovation. On top of that, Wi-fi technology is and also. This can be used cellphone inside of a hands-free function. You only need to get connected to your Wireless association and put Ear phones. You can entire your task available and also have talk with your close friends.

Using this type of telephone is usually palm, you may make by using world-wide-web service in addition. It includes Java operating system as well as WAP2.Zero. These features encourage the consumers to be able to acquire important information from the internet and also communicate with the family as a result of e-mail. Users could take upwards essential calls by simply hands-free method.

This Sony cell phone also has your built-in digital camera together with VGA monitor and resolution involving 640 a Four hundred and eighty p. You may take the photos of this cherished instances as they are. You should not hold your own camera just about everywhere, however, you can hold a person's cell phone with video camera everywhere together with you. Fridge / freezer included in this telephone will be Text, MMS, video game titles, diary, alarm among others.

You could examine the feature of the cell phone along with other cell phones involving identical group. If you're going to obtain this specific cell phone, searching on-line to find the best promotions.

http://www.passwordmanagers.net/ Windows Password Manager

Technology:
how I love you and loathe you
in the same breath

your phonic ears
listening out for
a babble of distress
from a childs vest
sleeping soundly
in the next room

your ten tentacle arms
purge my words
and shelter emotions
across vast distances
for long lost friends
to find comfort
in 140 characters

your innovations
are the respirator
the breathing lungs
the beating heart
the bionic limbs
that help without want
to walk again

if only you could
just once
guess my words
correctly
just once
is all I ask

I invited that girl
for a pint
not a riot
and the black berry
ripens in the east
is now an improvised
IED

Technology:
will you ever be perfect?
or will you always
be evolving

how will you know
that you have not
stepped back
to be overshadowed
by an ape

punching numbers
searching for Shots
and finding Pints
in the middle of
a dusty Riot

-something real. Something strong and sturdy, believable.  I want to write words that are heavy with lightness and dark with their brightness, to draw on a page a life so unbelievably real, so inconceivably mine
in creation

I want to write
-not just love. Not a ***** with a couple of drink-mangled bugs. I want to write about that feeling of blood churning and the warmth of emotion not physical feeling, to put into words the unwordable joy of being in the presence of
not just anyone

Anyone. Like the not-platonic-non-romantic affection that Rudy would not fail to hint at, that so-wanted kiss that Liesel gave, it wasn't so much the action as the meaning behind it. Like that itch on Death's ear when Liesel he came near, not to take her yet, but to steal her story, to live through it. To feel the words dance in his void, non-niceness, the infinite meanings and the power of phonic combinations.
They allow even Death to live.
I want to write like Zusak, like Rowling, like me.

I want to write
-the philosophies. The thoughts and wishes and wonders of a minority. I want to write about those opinions of those whose voices are too small and their souls beautifully lit up but unseen, their ideologies so unmistakably right but also naive and innocent, to stage their feelings from transition to transition
their words to the wise

I want to write
-characters so flawed. Each with an inner splendor most radiant, but with their fields of starless black and heads that wander from this to that. I want to write lives and people so different, with not-so-good lives and not-so-normal features. People who, though lacking thereof, cliche the right things and believe
in the wrong

The wrong. Their thoughts and meanings about life and beyond, undesirable and judged but that is the human mentality, such as Hazel Grace felt about her casualties and Alaska Young wondered about the labyrinth's unending game. So standard at first, but then Gandalf came and Bilbo learned the differences  between Hobbit and the untame. The reasons and purposes of life's grand living, through the eyes of those whose faces are shunned.
Hermione wasn't just a bibliosiac.
I want to write like Green, like Tolkien, like me.

Alas, the clock, a stained moon, it darkens, and the prejudice of people as well as the pride, unfortunately Austen couldn't lessen so much. Stereotypes triumphantly sit on the throne with their Mary-Sue maids catering from head to toe. I can't barge in, object to the crowning, because today I admit it: my writing is dying.

Shivers, subdued, sit poised and submerged for flight
Just below my, still yet, warm-to-the-touch skin.
Conversation licks across a yellow light
As my mind wanders to simply going in.
Yet, my neck creaks back and heavy my lids lie
When the decision finally comes to speak
And vocal chords retreat as if always shy--
Miscommunication between tongue and cheek.
Resilient, an iris peeps out to observe
A mind's vague understanding of echoed phonic.
Small leaves shiver. A chill creeps across each nerve.
The night serves as a stress relieving tonic.
A comforting thought as I reach to envelop:
That each day serves as a chance to develop.

I rotate around you
on a slanted axis that
shows you more of my left side
and less of my scarred eyebrow.

If I were a whale
my phonic lips could sing
the distance away
through an acoustic habitat

but I must rely on outer space
to deliver my love call
in tact - for I cannot shout
loud enough,
I am too human

I am too small
for this love, I can't make
it reach you,
you're too far away.

Flash

I want to do something crazy
Like running ****
Maybe get a little tipsy
If you want me to
I'll go out and do a show
Show you everything I have
You know how this goes
If you say calm down
I'll just get louder
If you tell me one more time
Why would you rather?
**** the fun, down **** it now
Tonight we are going all out.

Flash flash baby flash flash
flash flash x2
Close your eyes
Don't pay attention
Loose your mind
To *******
Let's pose into a fun position
And act the fool did I forget to mention?
Melodyx2
Girl don't get shy let's have a blast
Come with me and just Flash!

If you don't loosen up you may even get booed
Were not chill were just to crazy for you
Is how we are so
Don't you wait up
I'll just leave you and go get drunk.
If you say calm down
I'll just get louder
If you tell me one more time
Why would you rather?
**** the fun, down **** it now
Tonight we are going all out.

Chorus

Half Psychotic, sip Hypnotic, got my feet on electronic
So robotic, its bionic
Call it retro-phonic
I know you wanted, baby you just forgot it
Is how it happened, you were a little on it
Before you met me, you were a tiny bit boring
Look the sun's out, and now's good Morning.

That river runs most of the year, through
Wickenburg, Arizona,
phonic resonance, wiccan, twisted wick
dipped in golden oil to write the vision,
seen from the copper kettle coffee shop
on the banks of the shallow Hasayampa
I formed a story from a glimpse, an instance
made plain for me, I see, seeming
to think we know I mean you see, we know.

We know the way oaths work, we comprehend
open source, may we all say we know and know,
nothing said to have been done by truth,
as all things worked together,
is intentionally keeping
our interpretations of story smeared history,
from just yesterday, as true, first impression

as ever began,
I wrote. And I write, and as I write, I think,
I pray, instants passed in the process give
momentary pause
ele-ment-al
all ment ends are mental acts done thought,
deed done, as when in his heart a man does,
be it he or she, wombed or un, mirror neurons

do not discern thought and deed, indeed,
we all have been beguiled, but never forever.

We die to know, but we then do, as far as you
may know, until we go incommunicado.

HER LIPS SPOKE OF
WISDOME FED BY SCIENCE BOOKS
AND HISTORY TEXT AND
PHILOSOPHY OF ASSUMPTIONS
CARRYING A STRICKING EYE
FOR STUDENTS THAT
WON'T SIT STILL
SHE CLAIMS SHE LIKE'S IT QUIET
DURING FREE TIME OF READING
BUT I'M STARING DOWN
AT TEEN MAGAZINS
CAUSE MICHAEL JACKSON
MAKES ME SHREEK IN MY SEAT
AND I SAY NOTHING NOR
READ NOTHING BUT
                               
STARE
                               
ADMIRINGLY AT HIS
                                
PUZZLING FEATURES

THEN HER VOICE RISES OVER
MY HEAD LIKE FLYING BULLETS
MISSING MY BRAIN AND EYE SOCKETS
BUT SHE PLUNGED INTO MY EARS
LIKE THUNDER BULT AND LIGHTNING
AND MY SEAT WENT HOT
WHEN SHE STARED DOWN AT ME
HER WORDS CUDDLED UP
AGAINTS MY IGNORANCE
AS I FIGHT OFF THE BALANCE
SHE NEVER

OBTAINED TO
                                 MAINTAINE
                                
MY ATTENTION
                                
                      ­           ONLY FEAR

MY HEART POUNDING

!!!STARTLED!!!

AT  HER
RATTLE SNAKE INTENSIONS
AND HER VENOMOUSE WORDS
FELL UPON MY

LOW IQ

SHAMED AT MY ABILITY
TO LEARN EVER SO SMALL
AND SHE COULDN'T MANAGE
TO STAND UP AGAINTS
MY DIFFICULT APPLE
BITTEN BY SO MANY
BITTEN AT THE BIRTH
AND EATEN BY THE BEAST
OF STUDENTS WHO
STAND EGO HIGH AGAINTS ME
TURNING HEADS AT ME
WITH A GLARE IN THEIR EYE
THAT ONLY HORROR MOVIES COULD DEPICT
SHE DECIDED TO

FAVOR
                             
THE WIDTH
                              
 THE DISTANCE

AND                     

 THE RISK

OF HAVING ME
HER STUDENT...  AT ALL...
AND TELLS ME

"YOU WILL NEVER WIN,
BUT I WILL"

??????????

WHY MRS. ANDERSON...
WHAT EVER DID YOU MEAN BY THAT
23 YRS AGO I WANNA KNOW????????

BUT I COULDN'T CONCENTRATE
OR PAY YOU THE FAME
BECAUSE YOU STAND UP THERE
LIKE SOME PRESIDENT OFFERING
NO LESS THAN A TOOL
I CAN'T GET TO A HIGHER LEVEL
LIKE THE OTHER KIDS
FEELING LIKE A ROBOT
STANDING IN LINE TO EAT
STANDING IN LINE TO PLAY
RAISE MY HAND LIKE A CONVICT
TO GO TO THE BATHROOM
AS IF THIS WERE THE MALICHA OR
A **** OR NOZI OR HOW EVER YOU SPELL
                              THE **** NAME

CAUSE IT AIN'T ENGLISH
YOUR RING TONE PHONIC VOICE
RINGS IN MY EAR TO THIS DAY
AND YOUR PIERCING DULL BLUE EYES
IS ALL I NEVER WANT MY CHILD
TO HAVE AFTER ME

A TEACHER WHO THINKS
SHE IS THERE JUST TO BEAT DOWN
A CHILD
                                        IN THIER MINDS.


© S.T. Rebel of Eden

Wednesday, January 25, 2017
1:48 PM

Vows made to men
Vows made to men with wombs as well
Are binding,
Those bonds unseen can choke or
Smother thoughtlessly as a
Mother may overlay a babe in her sleep
With no purpose or reasoning at all.
God knows.

Pause
Are these allusions too cryptic
Or too occluded or, per haps,
Seen through a glass darkly?
Be aware be yond here
Be dragons.
Word by word, thought by thought.

Sensing of any sort of bond is awe worthy.
Imagine, do it, imagine building
The very first strand of DNA.
Imagine designing the code,
Then optimizing the code,
Compiling the code…
Before anything at all existed
The idea of the programmer exists.
(Genitive case, lost to English ere 2018, fershur)
Pause
We are getting ahead
Sync up do not loose this thread

Imagine imagining life, then
Life needs a place to be then
Life needs
Something like actualization realization
The word for that is what I am thinking
Is needed.
Life needs to be needed or
Life can never be.

Pause
Be cause
Next is too soon for some to follow

How many drafts of Genesis would we
Need to get it right?

Heady stuff, eh? Imagining
What God was thinking.

God knows, that's been done and
Done right once.

Imagine the mind of Christ.
Imagine an authority saying to you
"You have the mind
Of Christ."

Headier still, no? Imagining
What Jesus thought.

Seeing eternity from the foot of the cross
Is a less revealing perspective
Than seeing eternity from the cross.

Pause
I came back here then when I said then for than
Than is such
A powerful word properly honed,
Then, quick, cut through time
To make the difference. Then is a time word for past or future,
never now.

To prevent a future pause,
Try and do anything is non-sense and such
Shan't be tolerated
Trying to do is sensible and encouraged
Trying and doing will be forever frustrating, as doing is never done while trying.
Go yoda!

So, seems we go no further into the night.
East, we face, I reckon, seeing light along
The edge of night

Pause
Thoughts you think link to
Daytime TV in the 1960's
May be valid later and pauses
Beyond here
Shall be bookmarks in the role of landmarks
As a nod to seeker sensitivity tolerances
In the future.

Vows made to men and wombed men are
Original idea things shaped from
Original thought
Wow, right, knowing that gives you no clue
To the God thought, but
You can imagine what he meant, right?

When two are bound to be one,
Naught's t'be done to make that null
While life's in the whole.
Should life be left half minus one
The life left must be lived
Within reason.

A form ula. There is a form from
Which a sim ula crumb was made to
Fall from the master's table and
The dogs
Licked it up. Suddenly,
It all makes sense forever.

If you can believe that, you are
Bound to find bonds that bind
Without any restriction at all, once
You know such bonds are
At all. Such bonds are the substance
Of the idea of a vow.

All that's been before is before.

Wases were is a some what, odd, time-no-more state, which is
pertnear unthinkable in Post-Babel pidgin grunts and
Gestures signifying, states of being in contra-dictionaries. Some,
An amount un specified of
A thing I see, touch, taste, smell
A thing I lack it's name
I want some what/ What is that?

Upon that time, or just before, all ya'll knew ever words ever ones known ever since
til now. Now, no word you say can make me agree with your barbaric jibber. Got that?
Growlish.

Take, give, okeh, take, no give, no, okeh?
Deal.

Imagine how long it would take for a family
to become a tribe, then a tongue, then a nation.
Now, get this, that was --- remember we was
Plaining time down to all is (izzez being the phonic plural thereof,
But if I said ises or isis you would go all nutso meshigna Egypyoid and miss the point).
Is is pluralable.

Was is all that came before now. It is.
Then can be anywhen, but was is always before.
Was and before are one thing inside everything, time-wise.
Right? "same yes ter day to day to more oh, yes,"
Crazy good, insanely great, awe
Some id I ate ergo ego sum

Babel. Are we no longer clarifying. I feel like I am
Right out in the open. Can they see me?
This is, aha, I get it.
This is confusion. When adamkind no longer shared
One tongue ( imaagine thaat)
Agreeing wrong became less productive.
Two or more could agree on nothing
Without true effort.
So taking became easier than understanding.
Tect de tect pro tect infront to cover tegere

Integrit. Grit. Imagine you are so old you could have sold Grit.

The birds came to visit
Early in the morning
Waiting by the dolphin
And porridge bowl.

There was a Peacock
An Eagle and two Pelicans
A Perigine Falcan, a Macaw
And a nest of baby Birds.

Evelyn ate her breakfast
Read her phonic words
And talked to Grandma
It was a sunny day today.

Love Mary x

I could speak endlessly on how this is my all to u
give u summer on cold days
A fuzzy breez on hot nights
So u can gaze moonlight
At the sound of phonic melodys
With no expressed limitations
Abstract sounds ,physical bodies nd mental objects
Everything
This is me giving u everything, giving u everything

Timeless univers
Myraid paradise
In disguise
For you hypnotize
The true nature of existance
That with my last breath ,to death flown
I surrender my soul
This is me giving u everything
Giving u everything
Giving
Giving giving u everything

An ocean full of emotion
Thy absence causes distortion
Disects my world into two
Phases that cease fatality
Thus in this reality
I seek not Oder but to give
This is me giving u everything
Everything giving u everything

Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is good for thee,
thinking moderation then, success.

Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying?

Child mind alerts, perks up its ear,
single minds have single ears, child mind
focus state, un monitored you, recall, child
minding your own business walking in the road.

Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first,
did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up?

Child mind cocked sure, I know.
We are all an alien probe learning the questions.

Each letter holds an American English phonic response…
and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture.
--selah, also means let it rest

The precedent for a post temple social order arose,
and the minds required for that task arose as well, but
as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes,

cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull.

Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones
we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans…

tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion,
remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny?

Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like
a child's mind, ****-meter counting steps away, flee

the birthing trauma, do the dying well.
Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there,
death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.

The hollow tinkling tipping tumble of glass on tile
Follows the path of patient feet
Ever slowly out into the open
The cracking hollow creaking of grating joints
Meets the draw tight face
Where smile lines cut like a knife into the cheeks
Rose tinted black lashed blue eyes stare blank ahead
Collapsing china made brittle by claims
To what it is,
What it should be
Say, think and feel

Like a toy shoved between two children
Stretched, banged and reused
The marionette played its silken strings for others
Danced to the same dreaded tune
Around and around that merry chortled phonic dirge  
Eating away at its own strings
Snapping like rotten wire
A puppet no longer
Ill and abused

I have decided to write a poem consisting of hippy happy nonsense syllables
Like bunnies hopping about a field of various grasses with only an occasional poison sumac
The erratic highly entertaining motion would be illustrated by fascinating word play
Of both a phonic, or punning and a multiple-meaning, or semantic kind
Meant to dazzle the reader with the interplay of my mopping morphs and mowing semes
(That was a Shakespearean reference chucko)
And produce a nearly–lysergic storm in the grateful consumer’s contented cortex.
But since in actual fact I’ve got zero of any of this to offer,
And want nothing more but to lie back down and resume reading escapist literature,
I’ll leave this **** on the screen instead.
Who are you to judge me – the Pope?

I can't rhyme when
it comes to writing poetry.
I can't rhyme because it limits
the words that I want to use
to describe my thoughts and ideas
and what if those thoughts have
something to do with
orange or
purple or
silver?
Are your thoughts valid if they
can't rhyme with anything?
As is the case in life,
the things I write about do not share
phonic similarities and cannot be
bound by rhyming structures.
It's not that my ideas are too big,
because they aren't,
they're just too **** messy
and the more I trim off,
the less powerful these words feel

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

           Everyone is Now a Two-Dimensional Religious Image

News writers are dull, almost catatonic
Dispensing metaphors soporifically phonic
For in their world of the cliched and ironic
Every topic, every person is invariably

                                                     ­       Iconic

you know my first thoughts,
having just sampled
slayers's songs,
south of heaven,
  mandatory suicide...
raigning blood...
seasons in the abyss...
              dead skin mask...
blame game over,
how about...
an irritable forever,
for the lasting example
for a century,
   tried and tested extract
from....
   poor ol' norman has
but a day, and not a life's
worth of recount...
           i have,
all, but the day,
to concise myself to a life...
i call it:
putting on the ugly mask...
rare opportunity...
to lash out leash free
from the standards of
society...
               baron von güt...
it's not: vou-jack...
wojak...
             mahjong: how did i
manage to teach it to myself?
        voe-yak...
   voyak...
                   is this what you
call post soviet satellite people
in terms of memes?
vogue-jacks?
           how is the inverted
algerian crisis 'appening
in france? shoot another camus
arab?
                   i'm... rife...
with some counter to anger...
i'm...
            berserk disorientated!
i have to roll dry tobacco
with fiddly fingers,
imitating spiders...
  
  well... all it ever took was
a schvabian granny,
    and a russian babushka
to make conquest
of voȳak country...
it took one in the ***
and one in the mouth...
back in... 20th century
europe...

             somehow revived...
100 years of celebration,
only last year...

two super powers...
to take down a jew hoarder...
my...
  isn't that just,
about right?
       you think,
that i'll bow to western european
sesibilities concerning,
yes, "concerning", islam?

the mongol ****** me,
the swede, ****** me,
the ottoman, ****** me,
the russian, ****** me,
the german, ****** me...

          anglo-phonic
western civility,
               is about to, **** me?
oh wait, right...
i'm not here for the women!
in defence of "what"
without a whom...
                 bewildering,
isn't it?
                 i'm not here for some
"prize"...
i'm here for some space...
i much enjoy crossing
the street at night,
with cars passing my tread...
not being the next
traffic accident...
                   how's that?!

'appy campers all round?!
yes?
                                            no?!

whatever the prize was...
looks like whittle ******
gwan-p'ah is not getting a sentence
in,
                  guess the local gist
gave it all up...
  "bothered" about
   a curry on a friday night...
      being made secure...
coming round my aisle
as a crying baby...
will not serve you qualms
akin to being served
food;

                     last time i checked,
a mulsim would walk
   scot-free...
   but i'm the forever schizophrenic...
applause!
   english society!
beacon! beacon! lighthouse
of the free world!
  who, the ****, am, i, even, kidding?!

I have known shamanic
And I have known some sin

The poetry is phonic
But the trouble I am in

Might be that I'm Thomas
Gemini is Twin

The bad comes with the good
The loss comes with the win

I hear you calling, Atlanta
I'll try once more to begin