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Karijinbba Oct 2018
To increase good fortune
like a tree of life.
A
AB
ABR
ABRA
ABRAC
ABRACA
 ABRACAD
 ABRACADA
  ABRACADAB
   ABRACADABR
     ABRACADABRA.
I changed!
got Wiser!
I didn't share my Knight
his destiny cursed Mom
birthing me! unprovoqued
playing us both
lover against lover
by chicanery deceit duplicity
backfiring deadly on me!
for his destiny to appear
wholly good being
more evil then good.
~~~SO NOW~
I create as I speak!
I won't disappear like the word
I was wholly good long ago
now I am more good than evil
ballanced rising beauty
Take heed though!
this really happened to me
not remembering this magic prescripted incantation
nor understanding it
a temporary memory loss
due to brain blood loss
Oh! many years ago
missing the mark
this timeless riddle
My loss was imeasurable!
I lost my true love.
Understanding it would have boomeranged me
joy happily ever after
Great fortune fame
True love priceless
along with saying
just TEN to fifty two
magic words
bellow:
I AM SORRY
I never meant to hurt you.
me fierce unborn protector
twas wrong medical advice
I love you, I will marry you
I will sing for you
No birthing task will ever be too hard for me to show love
love of my life
I surrender to you
do with me as you please
if your LOVE is my prise!
~~~~~
I demeanish misfortune
ABRACADABRA
in reverse below.
~~
why fail to question
my exasperated response to
ur e-mail why not ask about
original offender e-mailer!
the poisoner coiled
to your bed waiting
was your breach of trust!
irate culprit setting up discord
your destiny wrote saying
"I was unhappy because I didn't like the WAY my mother's p...y looked when I was born!"
all out of jealousy!
malice greed evile way of
deceiving a man to see
an ugly deceiver
in more favourable light
it hurts doesnt it?
I returned fireball to smc
thinking viper still on to me
but it was you who got it!
uran back to wine-reward!
original offender dragging
you into her collapsing
black hole where
not even urlight escapes
your capricorn's revenge!
victims aren't fools!
foe is now exposed
youmemeuwins
ABRACADABRA
ABRACADABR
ABRACADAB
ABRACADA
ABRACA
ABRACA
ABRAC
AB­RA
ABR
AB
A.
~~~~~
By;Karijinbba
~All copy rights reserved~
~pc=rc=jpt-asg=aa=bba~
Abracadabra;
Take thee all thy wealth and treasures buried loot precious love
I wish for no other wealth from thee then to be thine wife from my virginity to have only thee one man one husband for the father of many of our children and to never know NO other man in this life or in many more, my Lancelott My King of Prussia PA Mont Davis,
Macchu-Picchu my highest
mountain climber lover
Hymalayan thee!
Abracadabra!
Its my wishing well coin wish for today since 44 Springs back.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
a month's worth of a hiatus
and:
no luck...
   i try to remember whatever
presence in the comment
section...
  there was never any...
                how to stage a:
     dialectical experiment...
    none to my liking...
   will the fringe reading
the Dada movement
    of scraps of works of
arthur cravan, jacques rigaut,
julien torma or jacques vache
help?
         to be honest...
listening to the fringe band
like percival schuttenbach
will not help either...
  how the **** did i find
wooden shjips' album V
in the Romford HMV
on vinyl: i will never know...
last time i heard:
there were only 3 HMV shops
left in London - metropolitan
& outer...
       Doug Putman:
you're on mate...
    seriously...
     a music store used to be:
a culture of...
  well... talk to someone
in a shop that only sells
  mobile phones, or trainers?
back in the day:
you'd be hoping for
a coffee: and all that culture
of the busy bodies...
             can i get the counter:
that buying vinyl looks
less sad, "out-of-tune"
  than buying CD?
i had to ******* move into
the realm of the vinyl:
to kick myself out of the house...
i don't like this prison,
of everything being:
delivered to my front-door...
well: i will always look less
like a loser or a sad bore...
if i buy for a medium
without head-phones...
   that i take care of:
no the gramaphone is not
a car...
   but, ooh, a crisp vinyl
for the 20th century of
the late 70s...
something else...
big news throughout the week
though...
what news?
i'm trying to figure what
the news was...
i haven't heard the world
since,
  it cried something
for about two weeks,
   and i was like:
   and if that sort of propensity
is to ever make me
reactionary...
outside the internet village?
it's a ******* village:
get over it...
people are congregating
in village-esque
            scrutiny:
whatever the numbers,
     but for people who've
never lived for a month
in a city no bigger than 60K
(60K is exaggeration
regarding the city i was born)...
the internet is no longer
a "world"...
  i.e. there's no da-sein worth
to it...
   there's only a da-...
imagine my glee when Heidegger
was cited in the 2017
film call me by your name...
i was like:
finally!
       the sort of nonsense
i understand! and when people
would rather:
or rather would rather not...
spend 2 years of their lives
reading sein und zeit...
    or as i like to call it: sein und "da"
      und nicht
...
niemand, aber ein leib,
                         heulend:     ja!
it was either that, or:
listening to people exhaust the video...
one eventuality was
coming, one eventuality
disguised as an: inevitability...
because what is writing
as a compensation:
oh not the number of any sort
to count according to:
ego, prospect,
                  conundrum, eject...
sure, it's stale...
but serious literature would
never even dare to appreciate
these intricacies...
just today i picked up
the Sunday print...
yes... a physical copy
of the newspaper...
notable articles?

rankin: selfie harm -
instagram...
does anyone really want to see
my face in how i countered
acne?
      i just figured:
catch a fly on your face...
and say: Belzeebub took
a **** on your face,
embedded your skin:
and every time
you pinch an acne pore
from your face?
  maggots wriggle out...
now...
you don't a ******* h. p. lovecraft
to make a cthulthu counter:
i just did!
https://tinyurl.com/y9bbrtuc...
i'd have to be...
really ******* good at
photoshopping a ******* fly
on my forehead...
should have asked me
how much patience it took...
to "ask" the fly
to sit on me, while i moved
from my bedroom,
into the box room,
turned on my computer...
sat there,
   and took the photograph...
the metaphor for Belzeebub
sending one of his minions
i.e.: ******* onto my face
so that i'd pinch maggots from
it was already there...

yet a physical newspaper
it was...
headline news:
   the suicide generation...
in under 15s: 17 in 2013...
                              31 in 2017 (an 81% increase)...
15 -19: 170 in 2013...
                       207 in 2017...
       my age category?
i.e.: 30 - 63:
                            4,322 in 2013...
                   3,842 in 2017!
well: aren't i so, lucky lucky?

am i still drinking?
and when r. d. laing was not,
i was feigning to sleep
in my reading schedule...
any interesting news from
the newspaper on
a Sunday?

            just a week or so prior,
in the sunday times style magazine...
a dolly alderton
citing being an app-Onan...
    while for the past 10 years...
i don't really know what
a mobile phone looks like...
i hardly call it: hunched in a chair
over a keyboard,
with a whiskey handy
on the windowsill:
   screen time...
   you mean the erotica of
the 1st 5 minutes of a horror movie
soundtrack
when i lie in bed,
in pajamas (sleeping naked,
not good, not good...
pajamas are the way to go)
     having just turned off the lights,
and the opening-crescendo-choir
lullabies me to sleep?

- to be honest i'm ******* surprised
i've written this much,
given the sour news...
but this sort of news is...
hardly even accurate in my world...
i am tired of having
to invest in having opinions
that... i probably do not even have...
that's the beauty of
not caring for a "freedom of speech"...
i wouldn't like to have to prop
opinions...
   i might have them:
but as the fleeting of the day...
    i find it: actually hard to have
dogma...
             sure...
"freedom of speech":
   i already have that -
   when buying a pint of milk...
           i just find "freedom of speech"
to be a playground for
pseudo-dialectics these days...
           because: this is just pseudo-dialectics,
by the time a dialectical
moment happens,
the retort is prescripted, heavily edited,
and... there is absolutely nothing
of a friction, of coercion of
   the opinion, in argument,
toward a consolidation...
   what was a no-man's land to begin
with: is a no-man's land to the end...
     and if i fall prey to the lexicon of
the "culture war":
   i will simply have to re-state
my position...
    i am "manufacturing being:
                                       opinionated"...
and i do not have to even
     make a worthwhile concession
to...
           whatever opinion there is...

within the existence of the internet,
i've had one, yes, one
dialectical experience in my life...
on "foreign" soil:
yes, not with my dementia-ridden
grandfather:
   who's always prone to opinions...
on a bench,
with also an elder gentleman...
about...
    the delayed speech of his grandson...
and... about
rayleigh bicycles
and their cost...
     he supposed that his grandson
might be autistic...
    and might have to be medicated...
maybe: non verbatim...
i might have said:
   and no crushed pulp of
the vine is wine in the first
week of the fermentation process
having began...
whatever...

            an old man might say this...
but...
i have, no, contemporaries...
i don't have any...
primarily because:
i don't have a ******* video
camera and a mic.,
   just... itchy fingers and...
enough
     of a comfort to not have
to hear myself speak...
                 which: god forbid i will
ever do...
                  only blind-men
would bellow for
            a freedom of speech...
                    perhaps then i am
inclined to appeal to deaf
people...
          yes... all these conversational
overtones...
   borrowed, or rather expanding
from what was conversational
overtones in poetics
as instigated by frank o'hara...
        but hardly a real conversation
in what has become:
   a connected world
but also a congested
                replica of: the village life.

here's to my face,
becoming the new horror...
of the Instagram photoshopped
beauties...
   like the Cthulhu...
                i invite upon my face:
Belzeebub's ***!

p.s. oh... and there's only
something akin to
   da pacem domine (ensemble organum),
a templar chant
  in the background...

            a vision: less sinister,
and more... entombed
in a proud yet morose stupor.
rosecoloredpoet Mar 2018
Trapped in an prescripted plan
Held back by unwritten rules of the human clan

I wander down the dark alleyways and I hear them whisper
You should do that! You should do this!
You're not a kid anymore stop the whimper!
Forget those foolish naive dreams!

As I get older those whispers get louder
I hear them scream
Go to college! Find a partner! Work from dust till dawn to satisfy the hunger for the papers so intoxicating, so beautifuly green!

But what is this for if it doesn't bring me joy?
What if I don't want to live the same boring life as they all did?
egoistic without purpose so horribly materialistic

No! That is not the path I want to take
I'll rather be broke than fake
I'll rather be single than in the arms of a snake
I'll rather be uncertain than certain about every little detail

Set me free so I can be what I was always destined to be
I'll find real happines for me and I don't need you all to agree
We sometimes think that we have to follow certain path that somebody had previously made for us but we often forget that we have the ability to build our own.
Rafael Melendez Jul 2018
This feeling leaves me lost of my senses, like the sound of rain in a dream.
Loving her makes me feel like I'm lost in a world where everyone wants to be found. An infinitely expanding universe, that I will never fully explore but will never grow weary of.

And missing her is like death in a bottle, that I sip in miniscule doses prescripted by the second.
YOU KNOW I AM...

ALPHA AND OMEGA
BEGINNING AND END
YOU CAN'T ACCEPT
THAT YOU CAN'T SEE

PRESCRIPTED, FAKE
LOST AND DROWNING
ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU
THAT ACCEPTANCE IS KEY

VOIDS ONCE FILLED
WITH WHITE LIGHT
IT IS THIS NIGHT
SHE SHOWS THE WAY
TO SHED THE DARK
TO BECOME LIGHT
RETURN TO FIVE
THIS IS JUDGEMENT DAY

FILLED WITH SHADOWS
NOTHING CAN HELP
BLACK AND GREY
WITH BURSTING SEAMS

THE END IS NIGH
NOW'S THE TIME
BRING YOUR FRAILTY TO LIGHT
SOON YOU WILL SEE






VOIDS ONCE FILLED
WITH WHITE LIGHT
IT IS THIS NIGHT
SHE SHOWS THE WAY
TO SHED THE DARK
TO BECOME LIGHT
RETURN TO FIVE
THIS IS JUDGEMENT DAY

THE EMPTINESS UNFILLABLE
BRING ABOUT THE END OF DAYS
 ALL ALONE IN THE DARKNESS
RETURN TO LIGHT
SHE KNOWS THE WAY

THIS IS THE END
AND A NEW BEGINNING
TIME TO REPENT
AND ACCEPT YOUR FATE

THIS IS THE END
EVERYTHING IS CHANGED
 YOU KNOW I AM
ENDER OF ALL THINGS

VOIDS ONCE FILLED
WITH WHITE LIGHT
IT IS THIS NIGHT
SHE SHOWS THE WAY
TO SHED THE DARK
TO BECOME LIGHT
RETURN TO FIVE
THIS IS JUDGEMENT DAY

YOU KNOW I AM....
ABIL Jul 2020
Dreams

Dreams open truly devoted , never conflicted
Another addiction, but this the drugs were prescripted by Cupid
How stupid of me to fall into sleep
To dream what can be a child hood fantasy
To feel love again and not pain
Cause pain brought rain and days of sadness
And madness lying with in my shattered mind
And you couldn't see me crying ,when you said
A.B.I.L: "it's over "
Over and over ,my mind on replay
Sending you texts like please bae
It's mae
Lets put this on delay
And I don't blame you cause you needed to leave
I don't hate you cause you needed to breath
I'm just ****** that you did this to me
Set me free when you had the key
To my heart , I start again and say
I love you
And if I'm a fool so be it
I don't see a better reason
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2020
once upon a time i would look into the mirror
with a... curiosity of water...
sometimes i'd turn on the tap...
sometimes i'd block the plughole...
sometimes i looked at the "drowning" man
as a lake... sometimes as a river...
sometimes i'd come back with
concepts of time...
sometimes i'd come back with
concepts of: what if music didn't exist...
i'd cite no music at all...
but the comparison of the sound
of falling rain on a tin roof...
or on an umbrella... or in a heavily
leafy forest against the... snares...
   all that for a monotone crescendo...
that... if listened closely...
could spit out an A♯ and all the other
black notes...
                    that is, indeed, too intricate
and overbearing with detail...
but then a paragraph by Dickens really...
all those Victorian excuses for
keeping the language as cordial as possible...
never mind the archaic and obsolete
terms like... nearing celeriac...
yes... indeed...
                 ce-le-ri-ty:
                       swiftness...
etymology: via French celerite -
evidently from Latin: celeritas / -tatis...
                            celer (also latin): swift...
back to the mirror...
but only today...
      occupied by a mirror in a supermarket lift...
and all that could become about
from a trial and run period of...
the Chinese were never to be the Mongols...
there was never a horde... coming...
not from behind that wall...
not from under their overtly complex
ideograms that would be chewed and spat
out as nothing more than Li Po:
syllables: because... who the hell could
have heard of the concept of letters
in this Mars upon this Earth?
            that they: SHua and SHea
and CHow a lot...
                           or... this is what Ezra Pound
could have forgotten...
     ยิ้ม (which is in thai... yummy yim...
because of beijing and ****)...
                     wei-xia(o) - better in cantonese...
mei-siu...
             :) when borrowing
egyptian hierogylphs to steal some owl,
sparrow... cenobite from the chinese...
it's almost staggering how they didn't conjure
up pyramids of architecture...
instead: just a plain ******* roof...
this is a dog: こう
                   yep... here's the dog:
and here's the barking: woof woof! ワン

you're telling me... that the chinese could...
become the sort of empire the mongols
carved out?
and how long... before they could...
start breeding their slaves and lackeys...
who could understand them...
or read what they would have to necessarily
write?
         looks pretty in that mandarin...
but back in latin: gou... jugou...
              it's not like they could... or would...
because infiltrating this labyrinth of:
and only coming back with the primitive
latin of lady gaga... all those strokes for a syllable
and no letter...
there much be a dictionary of strokes...
an Ab - Ba
             Ac - Ca - but not really...
                  just in case anyone might need
to be reminded: Xi Lo and Li Po and Xi Jinping...
there is gold in the yellow river...

anyways... i ramble on like any self-respecting
european does: the power of perception
and the subsequent fictions / narratives...
just as important as the facts... of geometric rigour...
anything outside their realm is
either fake news or equal to the Valentinian heresy...

you can't move this sort of a literary
backage and turn it into a body of water of men
and horses bows and arrows and steel...
not with those sort of phonetic encoding...
which is why... the Mongols are currently
resurfancing with their old alphabet...
i dare say i can't imagine what it could
possibly look like... not the sort of crude
Thai... when compared to the genius-head
of mandarin, by comparison?
                 but if you're trying to... "wage war"...
and all you have is...
the proverb: the chinese would merely
have to march to conquer us...
you wouldn't even have enoug bullets...

        well then... atomic bombs are crescendo
pieces... they don't really sell more guns...
just brooms, shovels, bricks and cement...
and a hunger for licking eternal shadows
of the eternal sun of boom...

a minor haitus from mammalian pride...
   this little gremlin has learned the oldest
trick in the book...
   it will mutate and probably not evolve
to gain a proper mouth with teeth
and a tongue... or a leverage of a limb...
but all that cosmopolitan pride: mammalian...
the graces of writing a letter...
the bestowed angelic choir when wining
and dining...
the virus... and the bottleneck pressure
of the hive...
   the glorious mammal... having to...
look more closely at the little gremlin...
i see no symptom: of lilac mushrooms growing
out from under armpits and between toes
filled with killer toxic ****...
     the ant, the former ape...
the hive...

                           you are most certainly
a mammal and ape and all that comes with
darwinistic ideology...
but... smell it? it's not fear... it's not panic...
it's: a precautionary lullaby...
i agree: it's not quiet a hive...
a hive is a concentration of gravity...
this is still but a herd... much difference
to be grasped: between a herd...
and a hive...

                a herd might as well roam...
a hive: nests...
sending out its most potent examples to ward
of intruders...

   or there are two languages: there's the formal
and the informal...
but there's also all that beauty in...
what's to be said: readied for rhetoric...
and one to be: thought about...
                      theta-omicron-upsilon-gamma"eta"tau...
clearly there's no borderline number
of a letter of spelling that's a H(atch) in
greek... less so when is comes to ψ
and the passive π  with an otherwise silverback
"alpha male" of... "sickly steve": σ...
old as a solipsistic **** (the grateful dead...
st. stephen)...

    or if i were chinese... i wouldn't really require...
the distinction...
since... i'd have to burden myself with
the tools akin to chopsticks... or if i was really...
really sadistic... and tiger mommy...
two toothpicks and a mountain of dry rice...
to... allign into a straight line...
take your pick!

but it must be the hong kong fashionista trend...
it must be... wearing surgical masks...
when... going "shopping" for some woodchips
and whiskey?
i'm giving my hands a baptism in the earth...
i'm gardening... spring cleaning of the house
has taken... extreme... transcendent meanings...
but at least i'm not doing what was
otherwise done: doughnuts and blockjobs
and netflix binging...

mind you: i must have been deserving to...
finally get around to reading some Dickens...
this is not a parody...
a parody would be...
            Mabel - don't call me up...
singing live at the Brit awards...
              and the most important vestige of
anything that matters happened today...
two crows were foraging the lawn for
an equivalent of carboot oddities...
the odd twing 'ere... the odd twing v'er...
ever wonder why...
you will never see crows...
fill the whole scene with a sense of ****?
all the time... the ***** pigeons...
was good sure... that those feathers shouldn't
come off and the niqab should be attired?

i too am waiting for a miracle...
a muslim woman wearing a niqab all in white...
then again... where's my imagination...
concerning ******* gloryholes and
b.d.s.m. thrills! michael jackson's: ye-he!
yes... no lasso with that plump iceberg of
juicy beef... but it's there for the taking...

and that i drink... of course... that 35cl shot is...
there's more need for spontaneity than rhyme...
all this is hardly my kind work of edit...
where is rhyme in either frank o'hara or charles
bukowski...
it's not even waiting for a hint of inspiration...
it's: chicken scratches... and scratches...
and then... wow!
magic... a rhyming couplet at worst!

allure of last night...
    i can clarify...
                   i'm less enchanted by a fear of the "evil"
man... at there's a purpose and foremestly: a resolve
involved...
   a chaotic purpose of will...
which... even if the evil deed is willed...
is suddenly dispersed into the realm of phenomena
and chance and gambling and...
"darwinism"...
       the truly man can be forgiven...
in tha consequences of what comes...
alongside the arbitrary...
         but this leeching middle-man...
              the "fox"...
                     the ***** hands that forget
to sense a mind for a worth of soap...
  the peculiar mundaneity of horror bound
to the everyday scrupules of:
keeping up expectations...
that worst form of acting: lying without gravitas...
and a stage... and a purposively alligned
audience for the part... always prescripted for
the awaiting encore galore!
                   3rd party associates of evil...
the evil that simply... "asleep" or... "associated with"...
that sort of *******...
just shreds... the hopes of Cain seeking redemption
as a nomad... hostile: outcast...
just like his father... Adam...
              
                 Adam was cast out...
Cain bit the second apple of Abel... blah blah...
simple arithmetic of images...
the ***** of Siberia: one might conjure up...
with the devil's dozen of wolves of Blagoveshchensky
district...

yes... and at this point in time:
rather than history... history will always provide
the allure of studying human affairs...
time: like... fire... like water...
like earth and its geology...
   is the... given that lightning is the...
allure of the Faraday's fire... blitz-krieg...
me this language and a happy family!
ha! ah ha ha!
me this language and... peacocking in
a nightclub... out-takes from a *****-flick...
one *****-stars playfully ****-gags another...
the one being gagged is responsive
to the joke that begins and ends with...
the punchline... an oasis of the vernacular:
BA-NA-NA...
           toast! here's to me trying my rupture
of an artery in the phallax formation
with an ingestion of some...
spandex ballet... a ****** and a bass woo
of a barry white...

       like: "oops" was supposed to presuppose
the grand event of... the big bang...
"bang" a concept so devoid of meaning
when being introduced to a vacuum of... time
has to be an element... akin to fire...
akin to water... air and earth...
and... Prometheus didn't exactly steal...
a lightnig bolt... did he?
he didn't exactly steal an atom heatwave from
Chernobyll... did he?

- but only now...
              time... mythology: too much time has
passed... and there's a geological layering
of furthering the will of man...
and the recycling of paper...
time... history: bookworms more or less:
"there"...
time... journalism...
                and the self-employed free agents
of time... "poo'ets"...
               at least...
what "standing out of" all time... and space?
time i can can understand...
but space?
here's me standing outside of all space:
a bullet-point...                                           ).(
   and (.)           ****... how about...
the exclamation marker                               !
or the question mark                 ?
sure as ****... these would require the "diacritical"
mark of distinction more than
i which is already an I so can be ı
j which is already a J so can be ȷ
but the ! and ?
                            well...

mirror mirror on the wall... poor sam...
      Dickens would have someone swap
their Vs for the Ws and vice versa...
             if it wasn't poor Sam... the shoe-shiner...
and some other vague shadow personage...
but let's assume i have an IQ of 100+ and
i can keep up with a victorian text...
for this poor some swapping his Vs for his Ws...
comes up with... a breakdance of...
latin via: amicus curiae and...
                ad captandum...
            standing outside of all time... and space...
looks like heidegger's hammer
had a precursor...
     a shoeshiner had all these...
maxim prefixed readily available rhetorical pivots...
to shut people up: if they were being
too... "inquisitive"...
well outside of time... hardly...
if there are pockets of space that are somehow
synonyms with each other...
and that before time is given a linear: "forwrd"
it has a period of: "jumping" to-and-fro...
of being glued and at the same time
wanting to be... glued in a diluted sense
of the word...

it must be a Hong Kong catwalk summary...
before long i was much younger...
20 (circa)... now that i'm 30 (circa)...
and there's this surgical mask hiding my face
but still exposing the beard and the puffy rinds
that do encrust the eyes to peep...
well...

it had to become apparent...
the old curiosity of water is... driftwood...
now i stand before the mirror and
puncture the skin for the long "lost" embryos
of Beelzebub's jist: jazz: jizzom...
cuckload of fly ***** of maggot on my face
in the form of acne...
           there was once the sort of inquiry
an antonym of my specimen could share with me...
and be attracted to...
now i use the mirror for only one purpose...
hardly me about to romance a vampire
and... "disappear"...
but the surgical mask helps...
i don't see a quasimodo...
i see a furnace of a Frankenstein's adam
with pupils of coal and an iris of fire
to peer at and with...

                            whatever a god might have
cursed me with... i'll add salt...
then i'll add the vinegar...
  then i'll sprinkle some sand on the "wounds"...
and later call it:
the crackle of cement before the moans
of mud...
            
***** pigeons... always with the ***** pigeons...
it ends with ***** pigeons...
and of all of them... the spectacle of being
rejected...
i'm guessing... the clarity of rook morality...
being akin to the morality / NOBILITY
of swans...
                 since you will not see them...
eagerly displace their courtship... in the plain sight
of day...
    the rook and the swan...
will you ever see the nightly troubles of keeping...
a... vested interest in surrogate motherhood...
in surrogate fatherhood...
in the widower swan?

                                        as fallen as i am...
there are most certainly more noble creatures
abiding in my exfoliating noun terminology of verbs:
like attaining the halo of a manicure...
rather than... random beating with a beak
a... clue to how wings do not translate as arms...
oh that perpetual hunchback of:
grace with flight... but bowing before every step
of a walk... that man admires the flight of birds...
but cannot see... all... well...
who cannot excuse the jitters of hopping sparrows...
the gift of flight... but being humbled when curious
about nails... gravity... and earth and... rotations...
of heliocentric grandeours!

language: otherwise known as the swedish banquet
table for peacocks... baboons and...
lipsynch.      parrots! joe wooden leg in tow!
joe wooden leg... bartanblondine was asking for a
"whittle talk" with a barbarossa...

just saying.
Your finger twists the typer’s hand to squeeze out of their tongue the many truths

but they keep them in their pockets the prescripted speech that’s someone’s got their interests tied around
Like some money hanging off some pretty lady’s hips who wraps around a pole, that’s what clicks into place like the sound of an old vhs being pushed in and made to play, but you got the wrong tape
it’s a well dressed dude, making you feel bad that you ain’t as solid a consumer
as him
Ka-ching affluence
He’s got all the right signifiers
Ka-ching
like a dog has got the right canine chow and the right collar to tell you someone owns him
because if he owned himself
you know he’d already found his worth
Stevie Dec 2020
Waking up feeling fresh, pills on the side,
Taking all of my strength not to pop them,
Man, I hope this feeling stays, been to hell and back,
too scared to make plans today,
s.h.i.t, am surprised even if my family and friends, know where I am,
It getting too hard to breathe, too hard to think straight,
with all the stuff running a million miles inside my head,
Scars on my legs and my body, a story of the past,
scars forever to last, sometimes, Maybe I am better dead,
People scream, ******* Open up, Open up Like a book,
Then when I do, they all scream shut the hell up, it all about you,
Stare in the mirror and take a ******* hard look,
Thinking about why do they want me to be open, to close me down,
when all I do is sit and listen and help them,
Am I selfish or am I Narcissistic,
Maybe I need him, Maybe I want to be in him,
Maybe it is hard for me to speak,
Never speaking with anyone who seen him,
Asking and double question myself,
Should I start to redeem stuff I done,
So when I am gone, I can meet him,
Should I believe in God, Should I believe in Lucifer,
Should I believe in Mother Nature,
When I see nothing but hatred and humanity comes the executioner,
Should I become the crucifer, or become more of the newcomer,
Ran away from all the labels and chains they tried to bound me with,
Maybe I wasn't made for the nine to fives or the education system,
Maybe I was too F.u.cked up from the moment I was birthed,
Maybe I was too F.u.cked up to cope or maybe am cursed,
They tell me the drugs I need to stay sane,
sometimes, They refused and make me more insane,
I know they are prescripted but they help better,
Than the self medication drugs of the past,
Where paranoia and voices came way too fast,
Maybe am too F.u.cked up that I don't care,
Maybe am too far gone that all the truth stays in sight,
Maybe am too F.u.cked up that even the World's lies, flies,
Maybe am too F.u.cked up that everything I read and see,
My mind states the truth,
Maybe my mind makes me an racist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Feminist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Antifeminist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Communist,
Maybe my mind makes me an socialist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Fascist,
Maybe my mind makes me an conversationist,
Maybe my mind makes me an colonizationist,
Maybe my mind makes me an preservationist,
Maybe my mind makes me an conventionalist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Abortionist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Antiabortionist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Pyschiatrist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Nonpyschiatrist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Intellectualist,
Maybe my mind makes me an experimentalist,
Maybe my mind makes me an obstructionist,
Maybe my mind makes me an segregationist,
Maybe my mind makes me an integrationist,
Maybe my mind makes me an Cooperationist,
Maybe my mind is too f.u.cked that It everything,
Where it see nothing but the both side of each story,
All the lies, all the hate, and all the truth,
Maybe my mind loves to self debate,
Reform and reshaped the views and opinions,
to make others screams and cry like onions,
Maybe Am too mess up to say "I wish",
That I could change and not be who I am,
but then that going against everyone who screams,
Be proud of who you are, stay true to yourself,
Maybe, it those who scream be proud and stay true to yourself,
are those who are way to easy to offend and tick off,
and unable to handle the ******* truth,
unable to handle the honest from those who value,
Demanding and screaming handle because it shallow.

— The End —