Your the one son being rebellious little darlings here comes
the sun drenching delicious but wait those cloudy days
watch out the hunters run ducking our heads like babies
wetting and water squirting beds getting too saucy
  ten O clock playpen the daring duck gourmet sauce
Orange you glad all her rich creme spread across
her penpals
Do you trust those gals too country slick on Newsweek

Getting paid he is the longest laid egg all grilled we are
not thrilled here is the "Chuckie Duckie" doll those *****
barbie collectors they are sitting duck Graphic Artist
Not one quack doll plastic surgeon duck lips she thinks
shes the hot stuff romantic "French" lips up the
"Eiffel Tower" splash splash she is out of cash
Those hot items presidential poll what a lost soul

Too much blue yes attention swan dancers Springtime
Not  the red attention yellow instead ****** please
I need a  journey not the "Attorney" such a ****** case
When you need them they always duck
When they have a new quack case they are ruining
my image
Duck tapesty Carol Kings youve got a friend

I'm feeling yellow homesick on your feather duck pillow
The same yellow tie a different atmosphere Go- Spa
She's flirting do you know where your going how is
life treating you he's giggling way too wild on her
goose chase
  Losing our grip down to her chicken bone hip
Duck season not much time for love being hunted

The Spa  la la ha have Merci' oh la la 'Disco Duck"
The wild ones the only ones quack- quack the
lonely ones
At the waterfront trip to "Chinatown" they let
them hang to dry but why Dad? They are better
like the delicacy shark finn soup we need a Spa
lucky green group Irish eyes are smiling stories
of ducks

I am  not buying do you see duck climb the
          "Eiffel Tower" yellow as a canary
All talk-talk is cheap lets talk French Mom walks
With her pretty duck handle umbrella we waddle
The penquin what a beauty swan feather pen
  But she's the"Prima Donna" look out!

The slingshot Marilyn Monroe wiggles out
                  The "Spa- Ma"
                 Don't  Scramble me darlings
                    Breakfast eggs cagefree
                     *          *          
My little chickadees organic brown on my gown
Spa duckies traveled the whole Atlantic town
The longest pond sleeping like "Rip Van Winkle"
twinkle twinkle
doublecrossed the street you get one dermerit
Sesame street Big bird how many words in duck
vocabulary quack- quack who get's the duck star

Mars from Men women go to the Spa like the bad
omen and they don't leave tap tap chop chop
I want it now!! Its now or never why does she always
get ugly duckling book delivered
Lazy goose she is the spoiled rotten egg how
do we love those  I apples
Carrots are for the eyes Mom always gets bird eyes

My little chickadees the Alaskan cute puppies
Big salute to the cutest duck feet "God Bless America"
  Visa  American Express Daffy Duck in Disney mess
the real picture "Mona Lisa" getting the duck
         Prime  chop minister
"Parliament Spa" prices so sinister
"Eat Duck and Pray" the  southern biscuits
more recruits

My cute rookies those duckier cookies another Spa day
So prim and proper teatime with "Queen deck"
  Alice in rabbit hole-Santa candycane poles cute chick
is homesick you better sent her money quick
The ducky bib the Chinese duck soup won ton
The feather fan she loves her Sushi roll Hollywood
Style California all duck drama
The best treatment duck made carpet

On the "Disney Hollywood" deck "Epcot"
On the futon what diction for a duck "My Fair lady"
Got the whole fortunes bed
The duck on the hill what a fool but the monk
Is the whole spiritual existence
The peacock's longest wait for lobster tails
centerpieces red bird Robin fly Robin Fly

Disco ball fancy tails she ended up up up to the sky
Her duck sunglasses a dozen ***** spin's the disco
The Duck Pop singer wants him back
High price or a short mack duck shooter attack
Food for thought homesick all saucy duck tie waiter
Cinderella rags to ducklings I went to "Woodstock"
Imagine me the teenager chick the duck split

Fill wing concert sky made a hit
The blues love is strange chick-lets are yellow
Like clock work what a duck work out orange          
        Duck handle umbrella               
 Duckies I pledge to you College Preppies
The chick feeder Ain't nothing but a hound dog
      Elvis heart breaker bird-brain feeder

  Moms duck sugar cookies
******* Jack one prize quack quack
 Huckleberry Finn paper boat old billy goat
  In the drowned mans eye holy ducks he delivered
I will blow you down duck horn the day you
were born
Having a third eye one duck Wendy 4 for a 4

Notre Dame church tragic but saved
   The  Easter yellow chicks
To Rome lend me your feathers no secret ears
Sticky Fingers she lost her writing finger in the
pond  OH! look whats beyond so kind
With her duckling apron dress he ducked
The chatty cat "City Dr Seuss"

Wearing duck boots those duck lips played her
like the fancy feast
The teachers pet the ducklings cute darlings
Spa cream she quite the flabber belly dancer
The ballet swan achiever "Spa One Day tripper"
The ugly duckling changed to beauty witch
Holy-land or duck pond Mickey's ears
                   Disneyland

Stand up daffy duck comedian Las Vegas
Godiva Peking duck soup flapping swishing
mess
The Big Ben red whose been sleeping in my
duck wing bed
The car stops he hiccups cute bebops
The guardian angel quack quack any luck
Yummy raspberry pie someone delivered

Christmas Scrooge all tears
New York lights camera I love my
        Serendipity chandeliers
Those duck tear drops last stop
Or you die__your still quacking
       Just in time said I
           Fly Robin Fly

     Saved my baby chick lovely
     Cradled her to love her
          Dr Seuss read

I feel like a child.
Sat in a playpen,
given only a ball.
I'm reined in, I'm deprived.
They tell me its fun,
that I need it.
So surely I've been let down.

To be sat in a pen,
with naught but a ball.
And I've been told to play.
I'll sit and stare at you dumbly.
You need not repeat yourself.
You need not attempt to make me play.
I promise your request will fall on deaf ears.

But give me pen and paper,
and I can make words fly.
I'd make them soar to me, take me away
from this empty, dreary playpen.
They'll take me mountains away,
entire oceans away from here.
They'll take me to see a different sky.

But I've been told to play.
Sitting in a dreary and empty playpen
with nothing but a ball.
When I know my words, want for them
to take me away,
and let my mind loose.
So I can be free.

The attention-grubbing *****
Will sit out on the floor
Waiting to be ****** by a
Siamese sock puppet duck

Its quirky little smile
Will show only for a while
Toothpaste soda and Hot Gin Sour
It's all up and about in a stour

Poor sodding toothless *****
Goes to playpen and dances around
Empirical     to   the   idea'r    of
the crowd  wanting    a     ****

Have I ever been profoundly lost? Yes. Railroad tracks and a river wide as the Amazon, yet lost. Living in the intense sunshine of northern New York summer, but lost in the shade of a gazebo. And here? Here I am enclosed in a tomb of porcelain machinery. With another winter passing its calling card in at the window. The warm steam no longer cutting the rough edge. Wearing wool sweater nights. The freedom of summer gone and only one ****. What a nightmare, what a strange dream, life on planet, winter all around.

            A system, they call it a system. I call it an evolved anarchy. Repetition, never. What do I know. Repetition, every two thousand years. Coming of a frost, coming of a fire. When nature proves furious beyond remembrance. Polar bear mugs wino.

                               --------------------------------------

                         ­               *******

                            Tall, attractive, talented WM, 31,
                            trumpet player, takes pleasure in
                            performing ******* with clean
                            attractive women. Age, race, marital
                            status no object. All replies answered.

            Here is where it started, amusing myself in an undisciplined manner in the playpen. Being rude when interrupted. Height of bad taste hitting the wall, what's he talking about. Marlowe went to bed. He had a headache. Used an empty bottle for a teddy bear/sap. In the middle of the night, three secret men approached the rock he slept under. They did not see him there, the fire had long ago gone out. But they'd seen it across the valley, and tried to estimate. They were close.

            What do I care. They did this, he did that, they did this and this and that. He used his feet, took off his shoes. It mauled him to death in two minutes of the first round. Would have been better for him if it happened faster. Never got his knife out of his pocket. But he lived, with one eye after that.

                               --------------------------------------

                   What do you do with a drunken sailor early
                               in the morning?
                   You pull that sailor out of bed by his hairy
                               moorings.

            Why should anybody believe this, this tiresome outpouring of old moans and groans, grumbles about loneliness of life and dominance of telephone. This gamble on print, above the spoken, sung word. The meditative call to inhabitants of planet to kneel woefully and pray. No, to chant as if the planet were mending.

            Mending rhymes with ending, why not. And television, radio appreciated. Drugs and *****, jagged bent faces, black wet rock. The mantle of moss ripped away. Period. Amen to men. Absolute magical ripcord.

sauntry and sultry,
a fraudulent check written
in a moment of disclarity.
if you've got a bridge to sell
I'm buying.
I've got stakes on this land,
broken with till,
seeded with pain,
nourished with blood,
razed, salted, travesty, and sown again.
a faulty playpen snaps shut on a toddler,
a man trips over his Pekingese
and puts his hand in his brand new
20% off buy two get one blendtec
brand blender,
showering his mother in law
with shards of wrist bone
and strips of lacerated flesh.
this is my foot.
these are my fingers, broken,
distal, intermediate, and proximal
phalanges.
these are the carpal and metacarpals.
I am a Spartan of a shitshack.
I was trained in the wicked art of
long arduous bowel movements.
squeeze one out for the ones you love.
in some small musty room
in new York city
there is a cocknballs paying $200
to get ****** on
by a wombwalker
and thinking about his ******
Pekingese.
you know its true.
don't try to think too hard about it
or you might lose an eye.

early morning scavengers,
the street is their turf.
little shadows of a starving nation,
a beacon of hope on a leftover bread.
wake up, wake up Dear President.
how can you eat on a silver plate?
how can you digest a corrupted food?
put your television on, please.
for putting it off wont change a thing.
look at those ***** angels,
all smudged up and dying.
your ignorance and selfishness
are tucking their wings in.
knock, knock..open your door to them,
let them play and wallow on your floor.
let them have a taste of heaven
for a taste of New York wont make it even.
wake up, wake up you sleeping thieves.
how can you not notice?
how can you sleep?
roam around the playpen you decided to rule,
and see your toy soldiers disappearing.
as you fought for a position,
they fought with their lives.
and when you cover their remains with our flag
feel their courage you trembling ****,
see how their blood tainted our native land,
from a bullet the enemy bought from your hand.

(inspired by Former President Arroyo of the Philippines and her corrupt ways.)

Let’s not go chasing ants today.
The grass is gone
And dirt won’t burn anyway.
Why not get to work with me
And let your memory go out to the yard to play?

Let’s stay away from the familiar doors
And antique halls
Whose windows open only to walls, anyway.
Let’s ditch the dollhouse unopened,
Still in the box.
You and I have business in the life-sized world.

Bin the old plastic flags,
Still furled in bags, let them go to the ground
In triangles over G.I. Joe caskets.
Stuff your red lunchbox with as many
Kens and Barbies as you can
And let’s bury them in someone else’s playpen.

We should burn that old forest down
Where we used to do magic,
So no one can cut down the trees
And make planks or papers -
Because it would be a ***** to find them,
(Not to mention climb them) but
I suppose you can’t go torching forests.

Still,
Chuck that cigarette in the bushes.
Maybe something will catch.

All the things you do to me
You give me all your hurt
You fool around in front of me
Heartache I don't deserve

Was it something that I said?
Do you need to be restrained?
If it would help I'd tie you up
But, it would not improve a thing

A psychiatric ward would work
But, also rot your brain
I can't return all of your hurt
No one could handle this much pain

You're kooky with your nonsense
That drives me most insane
Yet, every time I see your face
I fall in love again

And I can't come down
I know I need it
But the Ritalin A won't do no no
The Ritalin A won't do

You gave me girlfriend and I thank you
Let me tell you she was pretty good to me
I want to tell you all this loving cost me something
But, really, was love ever free?

Oh, don't believe those ***** hippies
Not one word, because like you, they lied to me
But, I'm not judging, just a nudge then we're together
And let everything just be
Let everything just be

And I can't come down
I know I need it
But the Ritalin A won't do
No, the Ritalin A won't do

We'd make a million dollars on your actions
If you got paid what you're worth
And all your stinking playpen games please tell me
Are you through with me?
Are you through with me?
Because I'm still way too high on loving you

And I can't come down
I know I need it
But. the Ritalin A won't do no no no no
The Ritalin A won't do

So get your body over here
Because I can't come down
No, I can't come down
From a loving you

Old car batteries, jumper cables and a squeeze toy
lay strewn about the playpen,
saliva and battery acid intermingle there,
a jagged-toothed mobile slowly revolves overhead,
the arc-welder spits brilliantly as we mend teddy’s arm.

The walls shudder from pounding machines downstairs,
the scent of spilled hydraulic oil and grease waft in,
is dinner cooking?

Teddy’s arm is healed,
the weld a rippling scar,
we take him by the arm to the forge
and draw a bath,
climbing in we turn molten again.

Modern man unpacks his woes
He'd have us call it progress
The way back to our cave is paved

Several million ante-deluvians
drowned under the same delusion
How high do you need the ziggurat?
Asks ****** at Babel

Time wasn't ripe back then for God
He disabled their default accord;
their demon intent to destroy His plan

Three thousand years it's taken to regroup
Time enough for His time to be right
For the time of the end of the curse

So please, can the clever caveman thoughts
next time you imagine shuttles in space
a reflection of how superior we are

He'd downgrade us again in a flash
if it wasn't just about the time
we get to blow ourselves up anyway

Wiseup weasels, remember the reason
our playpen was restored in seven days
from Lucifer's null and void revenge

We have seven milenniums to learn to love
To take up our parts in Father's plan
or blow away like the wind

Six of them are practically over
Six billion souls in six thousand years
Created on day six, the number of man
We're at point six point six point break

Day seven's about to dawn.
The number of perfection and rest
Tormented earth groans anticipation

Mushroom clouds and lawlessness
pose no threat to YaHWeH's timeline
Null and void is on His Just In Time list

Every eye will see Meshiach come
Every knee will bow for
The Ancient of Days

Could I relive the moment I first saw you
Can I have that first kiss again
Is it possible that this sorrow will disappear
Can I be wrapped in your body that is my playpen
Will the day come
can it come real soon
Because I'm getting real tired
of this same old tune
What once was my everything
is now even more
I want whats good for me
I've never been so sure
I will do anything
I can beg, I can plead
and I will crawl
until I bleed
All I want is my destination
and that is what I will get
Through hell I will travel
Because you are heaven sent

**** MY FIST                                  COPYRIGHT 2011 DAVID EHRGOTT


Lucy Lucy  What have you done
******* a kid
well it ain't no fun
Bashing and gashing
covering him
My right forearm hurts like sin
Lucy Lucy Kiss me kiss
Match the left one by doing this

Just
**** My Fist
**** My Fist
Yeah
**** My Fist
**** My Fist

Lucy Lucy ******* me blue
Here is all that she did do
Slapped me around; Put me through walls
That mother-******* Lucille Ball

So
**** my Fist
Yeah
**** My Fist
just
**** My Fist
**** My Fist

**** My Fist
**** My Fist
**** my Fist
**** My Fist

Tuesday Weld was not a Ball
She frigged herself and that was all
But Lucy had a *** playpen
For children around the age of ten
so
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST

Surviving this is not a bliss
and my arm, it hurts like ****
I raise it up to tell the world
That Lucille Ball was my first girl that

****** MY FIST YEAH SHE
****** MY FIST
****** MY FIST YEAH SHE
****** MY FIST
SO
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST

**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST

JUST **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
SAID **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
JUST **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT
SAID **** IT BABY YEAH **** IT

Little boys of only ten
Should not be used like that again
But you know Hollywood and them
I'll save the world and tell them just to

**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST

Lucy did it why don't you just

**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST

Hollywood Hollywood just kiss this
I've really had enough of your **** so

**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST
**** MY FIST...

They live here, it is not just their home and backyard.  It is their playpen as well as their church.  It is provider and sustainer, their Mother.  They own it and it owns them.  You and I may visit, we may stay as long as we like, partake in the beauty, become inspired by its vastness and variety, and then move on.  They live here, always.  Even when they can't be here they take the forest into their dwelling to keep the spirit alive within.  Yes they live here full time, the forests are always on their mind, always calling to them, reminding them.  You and I check in from time to time, they live here.

A frolicking being, with no rules or distortion. A god of their own playpen, but regardless, mortal. But does an immortal being surpass a mortal in any other sense than time? Who’s to say.

Coming on in leaps and bounds
surveying all that he surrounds
banging on his playpen
nearly knocking it over again
think he’s gone to big for that thing
maybe a hang from the door swing
I got him a walker
he just sits still
becomes a talker
it seems that once he’s given the freedom
no longer wants it, more secure in his kingdom
maybe its out of his comfort zone?
makes him feel lost and alone

Is this the same for all of us
banging the walls, making a fuss
if our every wish was granted
would we suddenly feel stranded?
if we live without hope
pretty soon we run out of scope
we need something to rebel against
otherwise our thoughts are filled with angst

In the arena,
success means everything,
and potential means nothing.
And everyone with tattered sleeves
is written off as vague, gray, and
lost to the doldrums of dreams.

No one wants you to be lost here.

It was cute when you were younger,
but you're too old to pretend.
Just be successful at being you,
whatever it is, that you do.

I want to go back to the playpen,
but not just to **** around.
I want to be a puppy with potential,
not what you perceive
to be the success
or failure of my identity,
Because my potential
is what makes me successful
as a human being,
so, believe in ME!

Mother, please believe that
my zigzagging monogamy
is a rainbow array, not color theory.
I'm sorry you'll have to wait
for grandchildren to play
in your backyard...
with my future husband...
What if they were playing...
with my future wife?

Lover, please believe that
when I open my heart
I'm not doing it
to capture and pin yours down
I just want to feel it beat.

Stranger, believe that
I am not trying to win your praise,
I am ignorant, naive,
and ambivalent to white lies.

Friend, believe that
I am actually concerned
with how YOU feel.
I'm not just asking to be polite.

Boss, believe that
I am not the title
you use to assign and reward me.
I am a human.
I'm good at learning the rules of these games.

Audience, believe
that I am not a poet.
I just feel strongly
and write those feelings down.

Ego, believe that
I am smarter than you, wrapped up
in other's presence about ME.

I am just ME,
yet I rarely feel like ME.
I often just feel like trying to be
what you want me to be.
Ego, I must remind you everyday
to leave ME at peace.

Some day soon
When karma's killed the last one
And the clock kick-starts at Noon
We'll all know nothing

Way back when
When we all had hearts
Back in our caged playpen
The last time we knew innocence

Everyone makes me sick now
I can't look you in the eyes
Upon birth we took a vow
To never let the light stray from us

But we all **** up
And we all hit pavement
At our wounds, we ****
But nothing ever heals

I can only ask the world of this one small favor if ever an hour shall fit and the words could be beacons of light and please just remind me to stay awoke with gentle wind at my back bringing grace into view as it recedes back amonst the ocean and the pillars of prayer that chatter those by the wailing wall and embraces those that tap upon the rattling door that keeps all the children in the haze of a pasture in the heat of the life it enables just as the psalm is his wisdoms delighte as the air blows through martrix bound code cadets out to circumvent a cataclysmic drive to mate and just move to another and then again in the canal of sight and sound and a collective failsafe that will abort a life like an absence that has been inflated around a parade float as the gathered selection of these types that think a giagantic caricature could ever be the answer we sought when the major and minor dont differ the playpen of such men and the zen of another culture without this beautif notion. Zen be my trigger anddplay in the realm of the game caught dead to its life inmy aim so i fire but miss by a mile in its eyes was the wild soulfire of the warwielding and battle crys deep in the sounds of the ones before whom never shot with this gun mans way to dwindle without any extra provocation needed as the sun can burn til its over and the sky will die oh sitting at the peak of a trip ive found in me somewhere just startled and sad to be him always knew this was unrelated but relevant reaching fingers darling to the baby of the fam a few people together bond with the twisting genetic tumble lay down with my chest to the sky of my own self saturated in the conversation last upon my drifty lips just slap at the man at the gate called the end in the ending of all and the affect makinf reflections by the bay of days wuth the haunting of its machine by the ghost of poor working soul
My friends say my parents have said then i forgot by the lake of recall made to the mists in its mouth in the water in the wet wisdom dreaming of man when list in the blanket of night.
Oh ******* words and ******* too if you think ive an answer for you just the sound of me laughing to pieces nothing will last but nothing claims so spread your arms open wide as rays pull you back from the brink and all can be whole if only for tonight swept tight in the skin of the crawl made to wander in search of another to seed as its life pours itself back out into another manic molecular arrangement is made up in script of those if its sun artic laughter so iced mended and cold rendered to cut to the deep of the mind absurd ol me and the powers that be wrapped so tight in the arm of celest the name of earth as of early where its charge made planets to swirl axioms everywhere you look and in every book and inside the dna of all these men... Lost as ever
**** the daylight and ******* howl at the moon and be that golden light that can make a symbolic stand never delivered from surrender that was left as his testament shook to the place you can go where you can hold as it blows the beginning back to its own conception and reduced back to the file used to make space time a funny little thingie in the gears of a train never ending stopping only in the valley of the stars in the chasm uninfered by the redundancies of intention

Our needs weakness

R-Restless
R-Ruthless
R-Ravenous
R-Risque
R-we $$$
Rich?

To death be as part
Sickness or switch
Struggling it seems

Endless

Moon shines for others
Why am I dressless
Where is our star
With the Countess?

Waiting too long
Racing mind buying
another car

Too many offers and deeds
Losing yourself in
one star
Vamperish layers
The finest relishes
 Exquisite jewelry
out shines and
his smile declines
She volunteered
She polishes anyones
spirit to get divorced hum

Right on to beacon on

She volunteers words
the right one's
Mike and Robin
delicious so ambitious
He's the classic Electric
Radio's
To be or not ot be
Diddos winning lotto
Widows rediscovered
Or cut like a knife
The Rose in her prime
Those high expectations
She volunteered new
inventions of time

Remembering President
Kennedy Ask not what your
country  could do  4 times
for you
Now the Playgirl calender # 5
babe what she could
do for the country plenty____
Modern times date men of many
6 Men and women remains a ten
Feeling spoiled in a playpen

Those useless years perhaps the
lucky  7 love me times
Flooding your brain

White picket fence chimes
"Bad moon rising full moon
Giving away rebates
Those volunteers Scenic routes
Vineyard enjoying aged wine
Be mine you need more time

Laura Croft tomb raider
in her loft be the smart player
In Rome architectural beauty
My Mom is amazingly
Judy*
And she did her duty
Red changed the color
Valentine
Became the watcher "Rolex"
You were writing the words
like a women stalker
pills of Xanax
Your husband is eating
Your "Prima Donna"
4 the love of pasta & capers
He will always be your
love mentor

The blood and chocolate hand
We will all live up to the
Titans don;t ever say never
You only got 10 fingers
Now land

I heard you made a story
just the other day
to show the world a wind of news
that blows in everyday

You're always over trying
When it's your turn to behave
at least you still stuck with it
Got plenty now to save

I once believed your story
and everything you said
Sometimes I wish I had listened
to someone else instead

Do you believe in make believe
or are you immune to it
Sometimes I like to just pretend
Hello there, have we met

But that was many years ago
Before you crapped on it
My life or what it really is
a simple dull existence

You added very interestingly
excitement and much stress
added pain and misery
to a life already bent

But your story is so very old
The jealous lovers end
If I can't have him no one can
so devious your plan

Your arms (are) like a Cephelopod
Devitalize my wit
I'm sure the world can figure out
Who is the devil-fish

Reality was my start plan
Yours was just garbage
Why did you choose to bother me
I had no life to begin with

I once believed in make believe
I thought we could be friends
That was many years ago
Before my life did end

But don't give up the hope my friend
She can't destroy all' men
Some even know they're lucky gents
Avoiding her playpen

I like to make up make believe
some thing to believe in
Don't worry it won't hurt your ears
or ruin you again

I want to live in make believe
and start over again
paint all the colors nice this time
so my life can begin

Do you believe in make believe
Then come on, jump right in
enjoy the fun and happiness
and make believe again

1.
Flickering orbs of light
daintily pirouette

carving deep wells of horizontal thought
into the distant cave walls.

Gyration
by gyration

birth dancing shadows
emerge from the unpainted
anthropological canvass
of her moon waltzing heart.

2.
She feeds
on the blood
of a holographic universe

a vampiress
of the verse

her quill composed
of hushed owl wings

a squadron of angry whispers
poised on the galaxy’s edge
sipping deeply
from inky black existence

her pure
mirror soul

a rainbow suffused
with the mystery
of midnight

the oscillating wavelength
of her mind’s delicate intent
ripe with stark blue motion

reaching barehanded
into even the greatest broken-glassed voids

winking wryly at the waves
of the Cosmic Microwave Background

posting that playpen snapshot
of a stumbling baby universe

onto the ostentatious fridge
of her cascading nightime heart.

I admire the weight you shoulder when the verse slide crashes wild.

How you endure the broken heaviness of the world.

I admire your courage to slide beneath waves and reveal riptides.

I am familiar with ruptures and how volcanoes spill.

I trust you, only you.

These brave beautiful Knights slinging verse down moonlight wooded hallways, listening for sparks to catch whirlwind glaze through a tunnel of ignited frost.

This valiant act of confronting anything.

This silent ocean spitting gleam or mad rocky bashing.

Turbulent restless insight.
Perceptions unhinged.
Inspiration unleashed.

I am writing to you.

My pocket pals and troubadours.
My fellow warriors of mystery.

I am pulled through wild glen by methodical mission mist- bound to digest every color.

I am a quicksilver super train vanishing down your slippery tracks.

Captivated by every thought-provoking bounce of playpen boulder dash.

You keep pushing my boundaries,
my expressive hunger never satisfied.

My words beg to dance through your pens, I am pacing enflamed decks, my ship is bursting in your poetic sea and I feel completely free staring lost into your bold horizon.

I see your eyes staring at me from the invisible plane of all creation.

I bleed in your tears.
I eat your fiery solitary words like buttered up raisin bread.
I am a scrap of dead raccoon hanging from your wild animus.

Digest me.
Compress me.

Send me East of Eden with nothing to eat wearing only a fig leaf.

Fill me with meadows hammered in full moonlight, just before the unknown flashes from the deeps.

Seize me with scaling emotions too tremendous to break free from.

Hold me captive.

Find my center, make it spin.

Fill my house with fire.
Make me find an exit for you to pass through.

I am choking on bracken takeover.
My eyes full of comforting solace.

No more brainwashing T.V.

If I see another pill commercial featuring suicidal thoughts and ****** bleeding I'm going to flip my ****.

Give me your cursive loops and well trained hawk eyes.

I need to cruise another sunset
free from this dried up perspective.

I am dying without your words,
my own words keep fighting with each other, you should see them out there in the mist running ragged.

They're a ****** Brooklyn rumblefish during a 3 day blackout.
Son of Sam is on a rampage killing
anything I scribble.

Every street on fire.
Every window broken.
The city is left to smoke.

I am turning to you.
My friends I've never met but feel like I've always known.

Your delicious pages keep turning in my heart and your truthful spirit is my company.

I am home.

Uber morons of marshmallow county
the year eight reject and Comprehensive truants
think they have a snowflake like them to confuse
and in their playpen they pen nonsensical porridge for tea
some red uber pumpkin instructed them, faze him with doubts

here below is what doubt means
" a feeling of uncertainty or lack of conviction."
off course semi-illiterates don't know butter from Jam
what the feral rent-a-mob are trying to do is called

Red-baiting,
also referred to as reductio ad Stalinum, is an informal logical fallacy that intends to discredit the validity of an opponent's logical argument by accusing, denouncing, attacking, or persecuting an individual

That is what the Protection Money Racketeers
who tried extorting money to keep Royal secret
and then broke in and stole from us
and when we stood up to them decided to ruin us
slandering and defaming launching ***** racist campaign
so trolls of thieves and Mobsters go do your job

*  Negative campaigning or mudslinging is the process of deliberate spreading negative information about someone or something to worsen the public image of the described.
The expression discrediting tactics refers to personal attacks, for example in politics and court cases.
we all know this is what Thieves do, and feral mob you are
just dunces being used by the Thieves and East London Mobsters

**Whispering Campaign
A whispering campaign or whisper campaign is a method of persuasion in which damaging rumors or innuendo are spread about the target, while the source of the rumors seeks to avoid being detected while spreading them.

Ferals, racists and Numpties come do your worst
you,re nothing but ignoramuses in the pockets of thieves
you don't scare me one bit and you can't soften me up
I will not be gagged, bullied or intimidated
a family of racist crooks demanded Protection money to keep
secret my African Royal connection, I refused to pay
they broke into our flat and stole our property
I had the nerve to stand up to them, they did not expect this
because we are kind, decent gentle law-abiding
I said I was going to report them to the Council and get them evicted
The Thieving Racists Mobsters said I was the one that will leave their Country

They called on their underground connection
Told me and my wife, we are now Toast
Well I'm still here, come **** me
You all, your Gangs and all the uber-morons in your pockets..

Doubts where? you're not eliciting doubts
Your under-developed minds are being made toxic
You are involved in a Poison campaign, get your facts rights
and now poison is in your system and you can never be the same again
Because whether you like it or not you now know all about seeing poisons and negativity in innocent things

And that is to your detriment, they have corrupted your minds
and it will stay with you
If your partner say I love you, you can now think of ten reasons
why this may not be true or real, erstwhile clean minds has now
been stained,
You have ingested poison, it doesn't wash out, you've been contaminated, and that's sadly true.....
Go on....continue!!!

Gardening,
And listening to soft music on your mobile.
Washing few dishes,
And listening to the splash of water,
The laughter of your child playing in his playpen.
Cutting grass,
The wrrrr wrrrr of your lawn mower like a lullaby in your ears,
While the pigeon coos in the tree
with its nestling.
Are as eternal,
As beautiful,
As writing poetry.
20/2/2021

Jealously is green from decaying self loathing
mould in the mind, a heart dried up and shrivelled.
Petulant thrown toys out the playpen
a presidential tantrum played out on worldwide TV.

Many new toys have I…
The universe is my playpen.
Ideas fall from the sky…
I ask not how or who, but when.