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Wilson Jan 2015
Airs : Tuesday, at 20:00 on FOX
Genres :
Actors :

===>>> WATCH HERE FULL ONLINE HD <<<===

Plot Overview :
After Rachel's humiliating failure as TV actress, she comes home to Lima to figure out what she wants to do next. Upon discovering that Sue has banished the arts at McKinley, Rachel takes it upon herself to reinstate and lead the Glee Club. Meanwhile, Blaine, no longer in a relationship with Kurt, has moved home to coach the Warblers while Will is coaching rival Vocal Adrenaline, and Sam is the assistant coach for the McKinley football team.
this TV Shows have TV-14 Certification.

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~Premiere~ Glee Season 6 Episode 1 "Loser Like Me" FULL Episode 6x1
What is the Secret of your Great Tan Skin?
This be bashful on a Blind Afternoon
With you on Sail, and Tongues burning within
High on a Jetty, the Girls see you soon
Frankly, you the Millennium's Next Best Ken,
Picking Barbie after Barbie on Hors
The other Males sour; Then prune once again
Thinking them robbed from the Best Picks before
See, how your Rome enamourates the World
And letting this pour like an Endless Fall
Splashing on Flesh, to Cologne turning swirl
Eau et de la Belle, who boasts you and all.
Seeing this Promo, this Six-Pack so thin
Still did not respond to your Great Tan Skin.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
co hytre pod skurą jest iglą
         (what's avaricious under the skin is a needle)
na wieków, amen - co gdyby lwem
(forever more, amen - what's apparently a lion)
czy niedźwiedźem, czy też wilkiem
(or bear, or even a wolf)
da tchu! Vlach! ti i ten pierdolony lis!
(will give breath! Vlad! you and that ******* fox!)
eine fuchs! ich! ja stokroć i nocy nadam
(a fox! i! i the fern who will give unto the night)
imion bez konstelacji Achilles'a,
(names without constellations' of Achilles)
pozorom wbrew: na haczyku brwi
(under no pretensions: on the fishing hook of the eyebrows)
na tle pod imion: dobre sumienie
(on the canvas of under-names: a sound conscience)
wramah chszestu.
(in the boundaries of a christening.)
  a co ładne niech paraduje ze
(and what is beautiful, let it parade)
rzołneczykami!           bo to tfu!
(with it's little soldiers! because it's disgusting!)
bo to harfa i hu i true i Polska podbudjed
(because it's a harp and a ha... lost in translation)
is Rosyja i Я: anglo tomme, niet Яck m'eh?
  no kurva: Mongoła trombone!
mi non sprechen Deutsche,
nor operatic, nien moon-sweep tsar -
lovely, lovely juggles the Peckham
in all of us jubbly: day for the awaiting Trotter -
         or the spin frame Jenny my dearest:
spin! spin my spinning dūbblé / double-blah-blah-eh!
plocker / plonker two sons within graft of a blue
Peter sketch for the youngsters whining: or how's that
****** housed and i'm the one that should be
saying: the 'un that neva'h woz?
bites the Barnickle, that 'un does.
               says as much about cubicle cockers
in née said: Varlance: such that it almost sounded like
Versailles, and it too almost sounded likened to
umbrella when saying Paris or parasol.
       or on par: cubicle cockney poetry:
appellation and ***** hairs: stairs -
       needy and scythed: the frightened bunch...
          why then Versailles and squire?
and not: that ol' chip frier -
     fry err, Brighton on marble: succinct slating -
that walk of shame toward the ****.
     they always made the best foster parents,
that **** bumping, **** dumping crowd pleasing
hush for a Lincoln into linguo as Oslo in
libido -
          trucker tongue tie - gears in reverse -
randomised language replenishing that chaos of
became focus of larynx not cubed
but eyes three-dimensional: or cubism.
             and you sort of wish you knew how to
knot rather than not not not -
                your way into a Wahabi Lebanese
sentiment for truancy -
   which you never, really had a chance to get a
hard-on over.
                       this is how art sorta doesn't feel
that much difficult, more of a diarrhoea rather than
a constipation: less a skiing holiday in the Swiss
alps and more weekends spent on the Southend pier.
    well, we all wish to fish in the spaghetti lake
of verbiage: some of us get to,
and what we end up doing is hoping for
a second as cobblers in China, or beef farmers in
Argentina,    or cigar-rollers from Havana -
b'aah.... blah.... b'aah: i say jolted,
i say unsure, i say nervous b'aah - sheep's surrender!
why? it would sort out and destroy our
claustrophilia: as ever a cranium and an elevator...
         and the congregation,
                    and the dry throat.
katewinslet Sep 2015
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LylexRose Apr 2018
Here I am, same spot, same time.
We're still sittin at this table, but there ain't nothing to dine.
For every pretty penny, and every pocket of pence.
I'm not wanting a reaction, just some recognition for the places I've went.
I'm so tired and I'm so sick.
Of these People who follow me, and you don't care, cause you're a ****.
I put a price on these dice, and asking myself is there more to life.......
I guess not.

It just feels like I'm going in a circle,
you know all I wanted was help but that would be ******* miracle.
Back in, back out, this body is losing
But you don't give a ****, just back to abusing.
With weights on these shoulders, it feels like I'm carrying boulders.
My life, my love, my family, I wear it like a glove, and everytime push comes to shove,
I'll walk free and release the white dove.

So hand on the passion fruit with Lil extra passion,
Add some Henny and **** and let's get back to crashing.
The faces of the people who I've lost along the way.
But if you gotta lil bitty problem just say,
You know I won't listen cos this is promo.
We'll be laughin like a Matrix cos this ***** in slow mo.
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David Bojay Jul 2014
got poetry to show to my friends but im thinking of deleting my twitter
my thoughts aren't as cool as I wish they could be, so bookmark my HP page for the updates
the summer is chillin and im going places my mom doesn't want me to go to
just because a place brings back bad memories doesn't mean I shouldn't be there
Im past all of the stupidness and accepted my foolishness, no need for the reminders my ego is drowning
my link on my insta no need for tweeting my emotions my tumblr is boring but so are your hobbies
im writing for some dollars for more pencils, im running out of them
i got some money but thats for anything that comes coincidently coincidence
no need for some pens because I cant erase mistakes with them
nhom site under construction so give us a few weekends our weeks are productive we hustle until we get it **** what you're doing
there isn't any way but the need way so excuse your missing bikes, we're 16 and we're foolin
we order pizza and write down ideas no time for galleria
we ride for adventure on two weels
interacting for promo no need for hiding behind some screens
my life is a run on but thats how it should be no time for breaks, sleep is an option lead is necessary
rooftops capture sentences paintings illustrate our visions
if you dont contact me then why should I
I should be humble but my account has 4 zeros, my mom dont trust me with it so I dont know the pasword
That child support is piling up, I dont really care
got miles on miles on miles on miles on miles ridden on my bike but I haven't gone anywhere but the city
Im aiming for the carpet so when we go back to school I'm bringing my summer
Got numbers as options but there's no reason to hit them up, got a good one I'm grateful
I'm riding fast my way don't slow me down, is this a comeup? I don't know I'm just going along
Come up from suburbs, I want to live high until my view is the moutains
Im from Dallas but that don't mean nothing, no city defining where I'm going because I was on the 26th floor when I was at my lowest and I wasn't even on coke
these days my grind is so lowkey, im sleep deprived
my paint never dries, my brushes are always getting washed but these projects aren't for the public
I only have a few questions, is love really real? should I sleep more?
i dont know but Monarch dr is gonna be in a book one day
wrote this while my mom was screaming at me
"One thing good I can say about the hotel,
There were plenty of skanky crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.”
So began my Expedia travel review.
As usual, I got less than I’d paid for.
My review title:
“Next Time, Sans the Engineering
& Construction Inquietude.”
Pulling into the parking lot
One immediately recognized the scene,
A modern version of Cecil B. DeMille.
The 10 Commandments.
Pyramids of Egypt
Reconstructed, Escher-like
As a 21st Century construction site.
Oh, yes,
Everything Habib had in mind
When he subcontracted
The entire task to Hershel--
Hersh from Kanersh--
The famed,
But cursed
Jewish architect.
I digress, yes, but only partly.

Noise-induced stress, anyone?
The electrified multi-frequency drone,
Saturates like a post-war Levittown
Sea of Cape Cods . . . cods?
Bacala: stiff, salted, yellow & oily.
Cacophony:  a Festivus for the rest of us.
Oh yeah, Mr. Costanza.
Post-war?
Hardly, the mahogany wax
Still faintly, freshly sober,
New cards shuffled.
New cards dealt.
At that mahogany conference table
We weep at stacked decks,
Aces & Kings for the privileged few
Deuces & treys for the hoi polloi.
That hinky Bretton Woods poker game,
Convened while the war went on,
WWII still raging, guns still firing,
Tanks still rolling & rolling along.
There sat the Ruling Elite,
The 1%--as they are calling us these days--
We didn’t even offer
Our Gold Star mothers,
A moment to
Hold their breath.
Not one decent interval of silence.
Nein, nein, nein.
It was let’s get back to business.
Capital resuming its
Uncivil War on Labor.
First, add decades of slow boa squeeze.
Inflation, insidiously mocking Calvin--
Your ethos of work
In smithereens--
(Smithereens.
[From Irish Gaelic smidir n,
Diminutive of smiodar,
Small fragment.] ...)
A recipe for Sisyphus,
Your down-the-ladder warped reflection
Stares back at you as your
Up-the-ladder false hopes
Go escalator bye-bye; and by,
Staring at you,
Pinning you to a wall
With Econ 101 clarity,
As taught by Karl,
Another wily Jew:
It is a treadmill, after all,
Noting again the clever juxtaposition
Of a Jew and a handful of Christians,
Devotees of random Protestant sects.
The following link is a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.
(Who Cares ON HOLD INDEFINITELY Chapter Twenty - Page 1 ...
www.wattpad.com/4225578-who-cares-on-hold-indefinitely-chapte­r-twe...‎
Apr 22, 2012 - Leanna was totally stunned by this and immediately halted in her tracks and began to scream at such a high decibel, Opia could hear her ears...) That’s right, another commercial in the middle of a ******* poem. The proceeding link was a gift to some struggling writer @wattpad.@*******.
Expedia Review:
The Windemere.
Its last syllable from Old English 'mere',
Meaning 'lake' or 'pool'.
A magical name
Reeking, swirling through your mind,
Lavender & English lakes
With steam ferries.
Ne c'est pas?

I arrived at the front desk?
The computers are down,
Having earlier that day
Been hacked into.
No restaurant.
No bar.
Nowhere.
Scaffolding & drop cloths,
Everywhere.
Construction materiel,
Everywhere.
When you finally get your swipe card,
You Notice that the “Buy One, Get One”
Pizza promo, laminated on one side,
Expired about 5 months ago.
The drive to the room
Is wry recognition that
The Windemere Hotel
& Conference Center*
Is actually a ****** motel.
Backhoes & cranes,
Everywhere.
Multiple, out-door spaces
Sectioned off with police
Yellow crime-scene tape.
Everywhere.
Railings on balconies
Appear to be seconds away
From giving way.
Odor, anyone?
You can count on it,
The moment that electronically-challenged keybox
Gives up its flashing green dot ghost.

Most times you get less
Than you pay for.
$47.00 a night?
Please ask,
Next time,
What's the catch?
“WHAT DID YOU LIKE ABOUT YOUR STAY?”
Again, Numb-nuts,
You think it’s a poem.
But it’s actually my
Fakokta Expedia Review.
WHAT DID I LIKE?
This one I had to think about,
Coming up, quickly . . .
(An advertisement generated by algorithms for your amusement follows)
. . . ***** Spray for Premature ******* - Web Site - the home page. www2 rochesterhomepage.net/...Premature-*******/CHedfhhlmkmt-i...‎­Aug 2, 2013 - ***** Spray for Premature ******* Spray Helps Men Last 6 ... 54% of the men in the placebo group delayed ******* for more than one . . .
Coming quickly with Dwight David Eisenhower,
The man we liked & called IKE.
When asked if his VP Nixon--
Running for President himself,
In a tight race with JFK—
Had distinguished himself in any way
In his 8 years as his Vice-President?”
IKE replied:
"Give me a minute and
I'm sure I can think of something."

Not a ringing endorsement.
IKE knew something
The rest of us had to wait for 1973,
Reserving a room at the The Watergate,
Close to Foggy Bottom & Georgetown:
THE WATERGATE HOTEL
& CONFERENCE CENTER,
Just like The Windemere,
Another ****** motel.
**** me! What was I thinking?

Not to mention lack of privacy,
Be it acoustic or visual and,
In one case a veritable DEA bust.
Crack ***** in residence next door,
Cranes her neck around the balcony wall,
A would-be nurse, perhaps,
Offering home hospice &
Concern for your raspy,
***-smoking cough.
Her pox face bursting in on
The long anticipated
Marijuana Miller Time.
On the veranda, early evening,
Lighting up your first joint of the day,
Desperately in need
Of some herbal peace of mind.
Ne c'est pas?
Her big crack-***** head
Giraffes like crazy around the wall,
Invading your balcony space.
*******? Who was that?
Let’s lock the doors.
Let's hunker down for the night,
Taking turns keeping watch,
Like a couple of shitless scared
Grunts of the DMZ.
(Urban Dictionary: scared shitless www.urbandictionary.com/define. Ph?term=scared%20shitlessIt's when you scare someone to such an extent, you scare the **** out of them, at times causing them to excrement all over the vicinity . . .)
The Expedia Review goes on:
Anything interesting about the surrounding area?
Oh, yes, as previously mentioned:
Plenty of crack ******
Strolling the boulevard.


Hey, Windemere Hotel,
*** am I doing in Mesa, Arizona,
Two days shy of the summer solstice,
And 119 degrees?
That's another story.
But for now,
Hey Windemere,
Here’s a tip:
Next time it's total facility makeover time,
Shut the **** hotel, please.
judy smith Jul 2015
It's a little less Four Weddings and A Funeral, a little more four funerals and a wedding - or is it?

Emmerdale bosses are staying tight-lipped about Pete and Debbie's big day but we know one thing for sure: It ends in death and disaster.

And, looking back at the eerie promo video released earlier this month, we can't help but wonder if the carnival that rolls into town on Monday August 3rd has anything to do with it?

The long awaited explosive Barton-****** wedding will finally hit TV screens next week, playing out on ITV from August 3rd to 7th.

It's been one of those will-they-won't-they affairs, with Debbie's decision to marry Pete remaining up in the air until she discovered lover Ross was actually baby Moses' father. Who wouldn't want to run off with their mother's mysterious lover, aka the father of the baby half-brother she'd been left holding?

We know a furious Debbie promptly ditches Ross and decides marrying Pete isn't such a bad idea after all but the Barton boy won't go down without a fight.

In fact, a fight is precisely what he's after when he shows up to the Woolpack for his brother's stag do at the start of Emmerdale's big disaster week.

Not content with ruining the evening with some rather shocking revelations, he threatens his former lover and promises to take her down with him.

Enter Cain, who can always be depended upon to take his daughter's requests to "get rid of" someone quite seriously. Why hasn't he set himself up as the village's resident hit-man at this stage?

OK, so the hits aren't quite up to the lethal Cameron standard, but he knows how to land a serious enough blow to take care of his family's 'little problems'.

Ross Barton is no exception and Cain disposes of him in delightful ****** 'back-o-the van' fashion, but will it buy Debbie enough time to make an honest man of Pete?

Daddy's flying fists seem to save the day as his daughter makes it up the aisle to tie the knot with the errr, second man of her dreams.

But there's no preparing Pete, his quite literally blushing bride, and the rest of the village for what's to come next.

Especially when Sarah innocently scoops the letter that's fallen out of Cain's pocket up and pops it on the pile of well wishes for her mum and new step-dad to read at the reception...

Will Ross ruin Debbie and Pete's perfect day? Could that mysteriously misplaced letter to Pete make a comeback?

Or will forces far greater – beyond anyone's control – bring a whole new meaning to "till death do us part?"

read more: www.marieaustralia.com

www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2017
any reading of a philosophy book, outside of university, is mapped without the sort of strategy to receive a grade, for a "correct" interpretation (rather a regurgitation) of said work (mentioned below); to say it in simpler terms: i do not ever think that understanding a concept - in concreto - is worth some sort of "passing on the genes" (memes) of one individual to another - given that a meme has become pop culture, and as the french would put it:
        ce crasse et petit irritante chiotte valeur de merde
                                                                ­                        (i.e. un cliché) -
truly written like and englishman -
   a meme is that crass and small irritant bog's worth of ****
                                                            ­                                           ( " ),
   at least that's peckham french, del boy french,
                         i was well informed about this french dialect.

- and to even "think" why there are so many blue
indians, and so few piggies; perhaps it boils down
to the fact that the blue indians believe in
   burial within fire, rather than earth,
  and they prefer to surround themselves with the living,
rather than with the dead; and piggies do,
  graveyard upon graveyard,
    and that constant "nostalgia", idol-worship
of the past, where nothing greater can come again;
for those who surround themselves with the living,
their existence rages akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial... but for those who surround
themselves with the dead,
   their existences decompases akin to the elemental
tomb of their burial, a heart-broken: nightmarish
earth. -

for some reason, i always get these
"revelations" (for lack of a better word) -
as one might receive a signature
of a thunderstorm in the form of
lightning upon the sky -
           and it usually predicated by
listening to a few pop songs -
   and then listening to the
    *cantos of templar knights
-
            but then again, you sometimes
really need extremes,
     as the canadian sayings goes -
we only have two seasons,
    one's winter, the other is construction.

but this is about technicalities,
one could even cite the following as
the part of any contract, the terms & conditions
written in the smallest possible print,
   lodged in hardbacks worth over 30 quid -
not your cheap bestseller paperbacks -
   those too could be appreciated,
   but akin to pressure to keep a worth's of
expression in sanctum of a hardback?
   take the year 1996 for the cantos 1st
on toilet-paper (paperback) - but in brick?
take the year 1970...
  and where do the technicalities come in?

   - heidegger's ponderings V, aphorism 41 -
technicalities akin to the rules of
a game of cricket, or at least the pointing system.

but count it nonetheless, half an hour to scroll...
12,700+... till i got to april the 8th
  and resurrect a memory?

.  ע   ‎
יהוה ‎‎‎
א‎
                  sighs from on high...
      and laughter into the depths.


let us just say, that digital is
the new hardback edition -
    to condense my works into toilet-paper
till take more years and more pushy-pushy
tactics, to transform
     a hardback into something affordable...
but in reverse...
               what comical inversion,
   30 years will become 300 years to come
  about for someone to wipe-their-***-to-mouth
fathom of what went on at the genesis
of the birth of the internet,
   in some obscure location,
                  like a catholic school in england.

now the germanic pilot-plotline (regarding
aphorism 41, ponderings V):

    promo enigma-alchimia in vivo lingua,
             anti ipse (dixit) in lingua vitro.


(we're not in posh-boy grammar school,
the language is dead, it's become play-dough,
a malagrammaton-monœgo:
for a man's tongue is to his befitting desire
to state the terms of play).

da / ein-da / die-da          vs.                hier   vs.
                                      die-hier / ein-da


( there / a there / the there        vs.
                                                ­                 here    vs.
  the here / a there    -
                                
                               ­ atheistic scissors of
definite/indefinite articles/articulation of
    what's near, and what's far away,
     the dualistic-dichotomy of here&there,
  then&now...
           as far as i am concerned i cannot narrate
this akin to a vampire romance page-turner
bestseller... too many organic chemistry diagrams
concerning electron migration, sorry) -

   but given the "blank" slate genesis, starting
with articles... they go beyond being categorised
as definite or indefinite...
    namely... am i, or can i be assured that
      there's no X variations?
    i.e.
                da     ein da
                      X
       die hier     hier            ???????????????

               isn't ein hier merely "being"?
imagine being forced into a there -
                  without being the there,
akin to a zeitgeist, akin less!
      zeitgeist = a there (communism),
  but the there? that's what hegel
said of napoleon entering jena:
       "das ist ein weltgeist!" (capitalism).

and who are the anglophones?
  i cannot respect these "peoples" -
they constantly stutter when it comes to
  their lack of diacritical application,
they stutter... i might as well call them
the strabismus race...
    and if darwinism is to be the vector-catalyst
(hollywood was thrashing american cities
for decades, what damage could this
observation could possibly do?) -
  if darwinism is to be the prime historian,
that darwinism replaces actual history
and becomes neither in vitro, nor in vivo,
but in situ? why do scientists wonder why
universities are undermined in their
humanities, when scientific populism of
biology (i.e. darwinism) has undermined
papa historia? am i... missing something?!
     if you undermine a credible study within
the humanities with enough darwnism?
what do you get? inertia...
     you can burn crosses, but you can also
burn an image of a monkey into a man's mind,
the same result occurs!
      personally, i'd rather burn crosses,
i might end up drinking beer and joking with
a few skin-heads around an unsual campfire.

the other side just... "debates" loud-mouth
******* who haven't learned the gymnastics
of looking up those grandiose black-holes
of blah blah.... blah blah blah... blah...
     i'd like to ask them... does your **** of talk
ooze a perfume of.... strawberries?
   and the punk-fist fields... forever! ooh...
****** *******' salsa! shwing yir hips
ya bunch of conclaves (p.j.w.) - privacy
                     justice warriors).

        taoist's foregetfulness

grounded in maxim primus -
  to allow the world a breath, allow the world
to let you breathe as you deem fit,
   never too soon to be bound to genealogy,
esp. that of the genesis bound to
the new testament -
  for if the old testament begins with poetry,
and if truly metaphorically chained,
then how pitiful is the genesis of
the new testament, which begins with
  something as sorrowful as the nadir
of greek culture, the expired logos,
   a genealogy, with the greeks ransacking
the jews under roman rule,
  just like the ransacking of constantinople
by the venetians in 1204 (4th crusade)...
who'd start a "holy" book without poetry,
but a ******* geneaology?!
          no wonder poetry these days isn't
a rare appreciation...
    but cheap and as tsunami natured
   in its "production" as tabloid press,
  toothbrushes, toilet paper,
                        toothpicks, among other
                                               paraphernalia;
the new testament is such a massive turn-off...
if you don't begin with poetry,
esp. that of metaphor translated into imagery,
and instead begin with a branch of logic
that the new testament begins with, i.e.
genealogy... and then expect latter poetics
in the text to be taken literally?!
          clue the keen me into the clamours
of the poly-schismatic version of events...
    sure, christianity is a "polytheism",
                           in that it's poly-schismatic.

and of the garden, should adam have approached
first, as he would have done in asia -
         he would have talked with
the serpent sæwelō -
           perhaps that same serpent of
   caucasus - first, to have a thirst of
knowledge tamed - although never really -
  for the serpent sæwelō would have
tempted adam: eat of this tree, its fruit,
  and your thirst for knowledge will be
forever satiated!
   so said the serpent of order
   so said sæwelō (ᛋ), the sun-snake...
the serpent of illumination -
                            the golden serpent.
and so adam bit into the fruit,
   and such thirst as never before filled him,
a thirst for knowledge that hasn't
as of yet seized -
     for the fruit, which adam imagined
would be sweet - was actually filled with salt.

  and we are initiated into the myth
of how the other scenario took place with regards
to a woman approaching the serpent first,
       yes?
                and for the woman, the serpent
of chaos, known as ansuz (ᚨ) - the siamese -
who said both truth and lie simulatenously
  also known as the god who's name begins with
yod, in the roman tongue (Y),
                          and he said:
  you will know the difference between
good and evil -
    ah indeed he said so, but that said, it would
imply acts being simulatenously both,
rather than either / or -
he continued: you'll be like the æsir (gods)!
      knowing such distinctions,
                   and will know the meaning of fate,
and justice, and due recompense!

as etymological mutations occur,
   and translations into other tongues
go, let's begin with:

sieg heil - old english - sigel - hail sun!
       if ever a führer (the few, the rarer),
                        so too the sun's eclipse -
   louis xiv wouldn't have minded,
    but at least he ****** to his
         cockerel's content to praise sunrise -
but as it stands, an etymological
           "mutation" in translation: hail sun!

-------------------------- p.s. p.p.s. p.p.p.s. p.p.p.p.s.
    f(p.s.) ad infinitum: borrowing from
mathematics, i.e. f(x) - heidegger
invented the algebra of writing in a certain style
that's only worth a neurotic / autistic pedant's
worth of bother...

   let's just say, in terms of style,
                                        it's purely hellish,
   you can only go as far with a text
when the variations
  range from dasein, to da-sein
   to da-sein to da-sein (i.e. da-ßein) -
    to whatever else is enclosed in the book...
i haven't got the time to write
an expansion of these milimetres
            and a litre of *** waiting for me...

   inverse stress on being
              detached from a "there": da-ßein:

   with regard to the world and its being
   constituting beings (heidegger's style
of expression, i know, can be a muddle)...

all i wanted was an antonym:
   rather than the world and its there,
   i wanted the world and its nowhere,
or rather, a pure form of being: a here,
      being detached from beings,
   the infinite dance of "solipsism",
    mono-direct articulation /
   plural-direct articulation (a march) /
mono-indirect articulation (a thought) /
plural-indirect articulation (a commute home)...

in terms of dictionary ref. to oppose da (there):

ist da - is here
                hier - here
komm her! - come here!
           hier & da - here & there
                  auf der stelle - here & now

stelle:
       schnellen - quickly
   schwellen (ich bin) - i am swelling
schelle - bell
   bruchstelle - break

                            da-ßien = hiersien

i.e. stressor on being,
             which morphs into a reconstruction
of the original equation:

     i.e. "da"-ßien = hier-"sien" ≠ nichtsein...

    and the point being?
    the simple f(x) translation into philosophical
jargon... f(p.s.) ad infinitum...
                      this had to run into a cul de sac
at some point, given all the technicalities
and stylistic disparities between existentialists,
if any remained to live into the 21st century...
but the buggers ****** off
              let's just say the new wave
of concerning italics remains the still
unexplored territory of missing diacritical marks
in the english language...
    as much can be said about writing
            chair    as can be said about
   writing                  krzesło...
           (yes, a consonant grapheme, err-zed)...
funny, in grapheme terms...
   that the german grapheme ß
  never became a replacement of -sch-
     in english -sh- in slavic -sz-,
             seems to be more t'ss... wet snare...
          another example?
    (choo-choo) train / pociąg -
  and yes, that's not implying choo-choo,
   since it's obvious, the verb ćwiczyć:
to train.
Butch Decatoria Aug 2016
[This piece is a grower, one of my lengthier poems, but don't worry - just enjoy the journey on my ride.]


Craigs Schindler's
the Personals, VIP - Invite
Lists
Of "A" Listers on the DL
Haters D-Listing us...

So yeah, I got on
Craig's Intersection on Chrome,
and this what I read...

[MEN Seeking Men]
"Amen and good luck on finding the One in here"

Cyber-ly here,
We Seekers seeking Sick seas
to feel pleased,

Should of made a quick sticky
Note - "It's like looking through a filth mag."
with a mouse to turn the page
No need to feel shame.

Let's give us a chance,
Cyber here be
like - click - pics - clack
opens where we view
at that - a close up of a Mr.'s

**** Slong Johnson Peter Pecker Wood
(Don't ****)

Mushroom tops / Low sagging sacs...
The next pic - *click click
is also Member only.
Who's ads dare say
self-description / Promo / Sales' Pitch
A one-liner catch phrase

Hook  Line  And  Sinker.

**** Pleasures.  All your needs.
Age : 26 / Location : Strip.
His pic is also ****.

Where's my Cub? Top seeks Bttm
Bottom of the list
but still - It's Equal Opportunity Miss.

Late Night ******* looking for a Regular
(You know like how dogs keep going back
   to the same spot he ******)

Want a *******--22

Nips and JO (You know J for Jack and then Off)

Busco Chavito Activo M4M
Muchacho's Quatro Mi'cha-chos

All-American for encounters with the Same - discreet

Pages on pages of this place
Cyber Ether Web
And the address for such sites
     No longer a conversation chat room to connect
its business of exchanges
no one likes wasting time
getting nothing
     No one cares for a walk in quick-sand sludge
drowning in mud

In excess we numb our selves
from the heavy absence of Life
but I dare say :
     "Self-Respect is Love -Self - Love"
I stop flipping through the pages
of **** upon **** pics
a few body and **** shots
not one of a face
     without shade, beanies, hoods, photo-shopped
"disguise" - is the same as "hide"
so not to be recognized
so ridiculed with embarrassed shame
where they respect you at work

Must not end up like **** on Craig's list.
And without a pic, I place my own post

Yearning for Mr.'s **** Slong Johnson / Peter Pecker Wood
(Just for kicks--curiosity--what kind responds replies)
It's a gamble on here
Cyber-ly in there - with lists raining
*** and **** and misters (its hot in Sin city).

What's cookin'--who's lookin' -- Sookies
****** and Chance
perchance ...

To dream and in that dream, Feel...
when all I feel is blue
**** Slong Johnson Peter Pecker Wood
wit deez ... nuts
Family Jewels
Nothing but wanting for nutting

Don't be a ****
and go look for some kind of kindness
some kind of beautiful
life of a Love Life
back then when in the back of an '80's
pink station wagon...

Howling at the moon as all dogs do,
And no sign of a ******

Thank goodness thanks to She
All
Mothers love
my Juliet's
with sincerest respect


Don't forget to look for Love
now
**"I bow to the Divine in You"
Connor Reid Mar 2014
Motions croak in crimped t-shirts
Peace hurts the leg of 3 wheelers
Spit in a book, carefully holding hands over healers
Frosted articulation of bricks hitting off buildings
The doctor resumes surgery on the filming
Actress gummy mouthed backpacker sharing rooms with a jet-lagger galvanizing goo
If I phone myself, I’ll phone you too
Ad-hoc hop around dentures holding saxophones, laziness is the common king around here
Match the sketch with the deliriant fear free freedom and sneer
Shut the promo drunk and dolo
Potions of pogos bouncing so low
Both bones focal, keeping in a smile from an eye perched over the edge spitting on the populous
Attacking formulas with cruel gruel from the oesophagus
Wilting oxalis wooded in obelisks
Mortal coil in amphetamine greed for the sleep
Positioned slightly awkward and barely out of reach
Been seen being dreams piercing holes in the purple of the seeds
Peace is deemed green, free me from the iron between the sheets
Coins flipped in a river and an etude rings out with a profound sense of urgency
Won't wake up faces blindly painted deranged by a 5 sided box that gave fame to what was contained
Warp the wattage, walk in nervous
Hold cosmic stardust in one hand
Another a phone to call the best man
To marry the two hands and I’m sure the priest will understand
Hairs on the ceiling float through the window and provide an outspoken account of how they are feeling
Canisters of friendship huffed in the backs of vans till passing point seizures explain themselves
9mm film reel candy bars and ring modulation skeletal structure cat gut harps
Never finish a walk to work without beginning the start
Trolleys of Dolly Parton facelifts
Knife cutter butterfly anaesthesia makeshift
Hollow bellies of pardoned mop heads becoming a commodity
I can't say sorry if I begin to speak so oddly
I’d say probably yes if you lit a fire beyond the fence where the old man gambles drop-***** with 50 pence
Bite down on copper, synchronise the action
Winter comes and goes like conversation going out of fashion
Morbid, terra-fin switches waterbeds
Hints home at spit-roasting ostrich heads
Cost and effect, cause and intellect
The castle puts his foot down only to find a horses neck
Zipped up in honey, the combs hive mind should reconsider its self lucky
Unorthodox autodidact naturally diffracting compound eye composes paranoia and lies
The patronage of the savant is murderous and contrived
Its better out than in
The constant metaphor for unluckiness
Is where we begin
Radiance in a hot water semi permeable membrane crescent
Strokes the backs of frogs in the desert, stars iridescent and sun bears a weapon
Hammocks, ****, sweat on the brow, split lips on cornerstones of the solstice in the dead of now
Space-age ape on the country road lets out a cough
Caution to the hissing hills ****** in hidden zygotic havens
Actors have no time to cut themselves shaving
Austro-Bavarian chemical burns Molotov cocktail sewers
Crayons let me draw this face on, paint the day on and on, it gets newer
Its the context at which you and I notice the separation, that cues canned humour
2012
Jacob Oates Jun 2014
I think what really kills me

is to see a guy pour out his guts

about how hard his life is

how committed to the struggle he is

and how much conviction he has

(with his daddy's trust fund)

I could really learn to get behind his success

if I just ignored that he's a rich man's son

I grew up poor, I grew up brown

so I'm Mr "What a big ******" when my thoughts came out

about how I have hopes for a brighter tomorrow

or that life's too short, we're on a track that we borrow

So now I hear succinctly that there's guys who say distinctly

How they're fed up with the system and they hate the gender binary

They're enlightened, in the know, and they're really having fun

Because this **** is easy when you're a rich man's son.

Oh, so I grew up in a small town

A suburban uncultured brown, public school GPA high

That's nice, I like how they let things slide for you guys

getting high, dealing dope, chilling with weirdos

and not the weirdos you know, the kind with emotional, physical, and ****** hangups

and not "wee we're so ******* different"

Because we never got praise, we only worked with a backdrop

Hoping maybe someday we'd get the key to the padlock

But it doesn't matter you say, there ain't a place left to run

Because it's easy not to care when you're a rich man's son

It's always the ones with power, the one's who hold royal flushes

Who say "money can't help you, I feel so out of touch with"

all the nature that I have the money to afford to go visit on a whim

Because the world is an oyster that I have yet to sink in

While I'm hoping for you, you get the point when it's done

That not everyone gets the chance to emote like the rich man's son

I built my kingdom from my grit; I'm not a rich man's son

I learned that no one gives a ****; I'm not a rich man's son

I've no promo but my mouth; I'm not a rich man's son

I've got the battle on my back, I'll be a rich man, son

I've formulated my attack, I'll be a rich man, son

I got my loving back on track, I'll be a rich man, son

If I want to stay intact, I'll be a rich man, son.

Your father loves you boy, so you're a rich man's son

Don't care if I can't have the toys, cause I'm a rich man's son

My father loves me to the death, so I'm a rich man's son

"Dad life is pretty hard, don't think I'm having fun"

"Jake, you've got to make yourself, I don't care what the other kids have done"

"If you can only do one thing, and yes I only ask one"

*"Be the best at that, there's ever been, will you do that son?"
Styles Jul 2014
I treat beef like lions in, the Ramada inn, dying to sign into the luncheon,
go to work,
     I punch in,
these beefcakez, is munchkins, my dough nuts, and bunch Keens.
We Brady Bunch,
and Punch like Kens -sheens.
we punching through functions
like a bunch of alienss at the Days Inns working equations off all kinds of ocassions, mostly Caucasian, facials so amazing, when their facebook, if they face them..I page in,and they page Kim, to let him, know that I'm waiting; the appointment meant, we dating, no promo, so stop your hating. take a selfy in the ****, stop ur waiting. ctrl, alt, delete. there's no.escaping- staple the email to your upper lip, recycle trash every other weak in. ***. Ginny, run, Freddy creeping. slow, creepy walk, Jason mask out the Lake Inn, my neighbors laughed, Chevy chasing there ***, child's play with a ****** hockey mask, i'm up to task. dog had a limp,so I made him part of the cast! Bruce Lee kicked, thier ******* ***, I'm talking full body cast.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
that's nice, mm, that's nice,
cover it up, keeping up appearances,
let's smooth it over, butter it up,
mm, slimy pistons moving
easily greased? indeed, for someone
who is to master the names of
many things, you seem overly
concerned over-using pronouns,
so you can't get coordinates,
you're abstracting basically,
smoothing things out, you're the easiest
to spot abstracting via a censor methodology,
i know you're not a philosopher
a snake eating its own tail with verbiage
of having thought out so much you
could claim to be a miner, but buckling
to a pancaked face when told to do rhetoric...
they really really do want to steal that
page from your hands, it's not a set-list,
you're supposed to be a trained monkey,
white paper and stages don't work
unless they're hidden...
but **** me, eroding your memory like that,
you must really love your work
to remember it like prayers...
i don't get it, politicians get away with it,
it's not heartfelt, it's autocued...
poetics promo... but why is it promo (reveal),
so abstracting means revealing?
i thought it was more like hiding something
and getting caught *******...
poetics occulto? so which is it, abstracting
is a way of revealing something or hiding something?
i mean, overusing pronouns and not engaging
in proper noun usage seems a bit futile
in a multicultural scenario of cubists using
african face masks for inspiration, excessive bloom
of lips and nose sharpened by the artists's eyes
into needle thin contorts - africans don't like
things being bouncy and bubbly... they like sticks
it would seem.
Maria Monte Aug 2018
Saline streams ran down my cheeks and found it's way to my lips
Glitter and shine like sequins as they drip down the terrain,
Seeping into the cracks in a desperate attempt to drink the life I've given up

I'm older now but nothing has changed
My wine still tastes like bitter childhood and my cigarettes smelled like my father
(Or maybe my father smelt like cigarettes, I couldn't tell)
A bag of anger packaged in Mcdonald's chicken nuggets sat on my work desk like a trophy to behold

I was only 6 when the first crack in my heart ran through
My mother told me that maybe copious amounts of cheesy fries and roasted chicken would somehow motivate my body to fill it up
I needed reassurance that would coat it in resin
Give it another layer of protection
But she gave me a bag of hard candy so I could sculpt around it

My body shook and my voice cracked as my father left my the family for the 3rd time and I knew my trust was gone forever
But that's fine because 7-Eleven is down the streets
And they have a promo for chocolate-vanilla ice cream
All I needed was a cone to catch the tears as I swallowed it down like melted sugar syrup

I tell myself that adding chocolate chips into my depression would not make it taste sweeter
But when I took a bite out of that cookie, I could barely tell I've been crying
And a few mugs of mocha drowned the thought deep into my mind

I'm older now
But my taste buds still have me ******* on a chain
And it feels like the only way to escape
Is to jump down the abyss
Out of all my crutches, stress eating is the "healthiest" but it destroys me eight times faster in the long run because then I'll worry about gaining weight. Ahhh, tough.
Jacob Oates Apr 2014
It's good to wake up again.

My slumber slunk in of its own accord,

my living realm a shutter of mismatched viewfinder promo pics

I can't switch the shutter fast enough to become animated

so it's good to wake up again

where I can keep the full frequency as it is

Give me analog, give me a thousand frames per second

Let me hold on to the whole memory from that lucidity

So it's good to wake up again

Where I can hover above myself and see what I'm up to

Follow myself down a supposed tangent

Only to see the roadmap written down on the backs of my eyelids

So it's good to wake up again

To remind myself the two realms are interchangeable

With pieces ripped from each other

So that my dreams are dotted along reality

So it's good to wake up again
judy smith Jul 2015
Perrie Edwards hasn’t made a secret of the fact that she’s not yet ready to get married, despite being engaged to Zayn Malik for the last two years and now it seems her constant hesitation is getting to the star.

The Little Mix beauty has found her life consumed once again with promo work and touring, as she publicises her new single and third studio album and as a result it sounds like her personal life has taken a bit of a back seat.


Insiders say Zayn is getting tired of waiting for Edwards to commit to a date for their wedding and he’d rather be tying the knot sooner rather than later…..but is being put off all the time.

“Zayn wants them to set the date for their wedding so they have something to work towards,” a source told Reveal magazine. “He’s not saying it has to be soon, but he believes if they set a date then they have to get things done. Having it all drag on means neither of them is motivated to organize because there’s no deadlines.”

The source claimed that Malik is tired of hearing Perrie be so blasé about their commitment to one another and is sick of listening to her brushing off questions about their future every single day.

He’s ready to start making life long plans, especially now that they’ve found the house they want to raise a family in and the insider continued:

“Zayn is not being interviewed constantly like when he was in the band but Perrie is, especially with their new single out, and every time he hears her say there’s no date it gets to him,” they said. “He doesn’t get why they haven’t set one yet.”

While we are sure Zayn wants to marry his Little Mix fiance, we’re not convinced that he’s quite as keen and desperate as is being claimed here though. He whisked Perrie away for a romantic birthday weekend on Friday and seems to be enjoying the extra time they’re getting to spend with one another, as a result of his suddenly clear work schedule.

Leave your comments below…..

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/evening-dresses
Judas Mar 2016
In the dark alley along the avenue,
I saw a girl, I think she's new.
I went to her and ask her so.
She told me she was, now that's my cue.

I asked her, "how much are you"?
She said, "I'm free for now, I've a promo".
"And why is that?", I asked her again.
"I'm broke so I could forget this pain".

I grabbed her arms and got in the car.
Drove in speed from the place to the bar.
And then went out after a glass of beer
And drove with me with no trace of fear.

Together she's not a *******
And I, not a customer in pursuit.
She's broken and so am I.
I'll be happy tonight before I'll die.
david mungoshi Mar 2016
i'm checkmate the bomb
i always make things a gas girl
i'm ubiquitous and unavoidable
i'm a social engineer,
making things happen for good time girls
i'm the promo man
i advertise curvaceous wares
and multiply the client base
i'm hoping to go exponential soon
I'm a moneyfinder par excellence
i can sniff it from miles away
and i know how to make a fool and his money
go separate ways
as for the miserly ones, we prise it away so adeptly
they can't help applauding us
the rich and affluent ones looking for an experience -
we cater for them as well
they're easy to spot from miles away
that bored vacuous look is hard to miss
i'm a connoisseur of bohemian girls:
the ones who play sweet and innocent to perection
their jumping eyes can send even you into a rhapsodic spin!
the leggy ones with shape and hips
delectable girls with unbelievable curves
the slim portable women that some want to take away
mmmm... and the buxom ones with bountiful chests of sweetness
i can supply extras too! just name it and i'm your man
i'm the paymaster and the insurance man to book
i'm security too, my boys don't brook any nonsense - be warned!
and hey man, do i have style! tailor-made suits, gold-capped teeth,
handmade shoes and handwoven ties to complete the rout
my principles are strict and regular; no sampling of the stock
although...
if it's sylvie i sometimes make an exception
sylvie knows how to rock and how to roll
she's what every man hopes to find during his prime*
now don't you dare go all weepy and disapproving on me mate,
it's not personal - just business!
Michael Jan 2011
What silliness I am filled with
when my pride gets in the way of life
what anguish do I invite
by thinking is such a silly way
that anything is about what I know about
anyway?
IT's not about me
the AA mantra
though I am as dry as any desert
the AMA might have to check out NA
since they are promoting all their dope
to my Dr.'s with promo trips and dinners
for writing so many scrips of this or that
I wonder
is the silliness, the utter stupidity
not just my vanity, but a little
insanity brought on by being so well?
My band's new album "Just the Tip" went on sale today!
All guitar is played by me. Inquire further if you wish!

It is available at a 95% discount if you use the promo code "rectify"!

Copy and paste the following URL to preview/buy it!
Much love, and blessings upon thy paths, friends.
https://earwrecked.bandcamp.com/album/just-the-tip-ep
LylexRose Aug 2018
You be like my tats under my skin, complaining like a ***** because that's exactly where you been, chilling with ******* and you irritating me, got the Ralph Lauren on move, so vicious, doping down with girls who like the swish swish, rolling up my wood, blow an ounce to this as we all should, pull up on you, with brr brrr from in the skrrt skrrrt doing as I do, ***** I been a promo, keep it on the low low but I can't never not be your homie, let's roll up dope go out back and take a smoke, and now you trashass *******, keeping up with me but I'm making no switches, drop top out for burnt out count, but I never make a fuss, ***** I ain't never make a sound, try to never flex out more, you out looking like a clown, you wanna silence me, well good luck with that I'm still to be found, other rappers see me blowing gas as I surpassed you, you see I take that feeling and I cut it through, I'm always on the go, always on the move, and I got the champagne flu, we mix it with the orange juice, pockets so big but can barely hold my brews, taste of mango, lost in the polo, now I'm rolling solo, to you I blow over, never stop the best work working on it 24/7, pimping my fakeass motor, still looking for my heaven, now I guess it's gone, head back to my residence, try find myself out, I'm the counterintelligence, ballin like a laker, like a baker, but I ain't cooking dough, nothing for now but check my flow, can work this like it's nothing, all you ******* can't mess, I'm strawberry fluff'in, have a 1000 ******* and I never bluffing, rocking my shift cos I came from nothing, now I got on the gucci socks in the bathtub, everyone lil bit jeason but that's the thing, you know it's 15 years and that ain't no discussion...
Just a bit of freestyle
You are my favorite time of day
Like high noon shining brightly in my eyes
You give me love for my heart which was broken in two
I never expected to meet you
A shock in my daily. Unexpected and true
However it was trial run of love for you

Like a Netflix subscription you get 30 days free. You gave me 90, a promo I didn’t know I’d need.
3 months with you looking at the screen
1,000 miles away never touching me
3 months of love felt so deep
I’ll never forget you my cartoon geek.

3 months with you, and I cannot disregard the fact that I was hurting and love was scarred
You told me im beautiful, and were everything I’d asked God for.
But I wasn’t ready for you, and this you knew.
Childish, and petty. Fights and dismay.
My 90 days were running by quickly
I wasn’t ready for you.

Stuck in my covers, and darkness around me. You were my light trying to guide me.
Support me in my decisions, and correct me when I’m wrong. Laugh at my jokes, and listen to my song.

I here you ringing here comes another call. Late nights with you, sleeping on the phone.
Forever and ever? I thought it was true
However forever ended to soon.

They all said I’m crazy, and that you weren’t real. You couldn’t love me when you aren’t here.
Pictures can’t mean anything, words can’t either. He’s not standing next you. You’re in love with a computer.

Tick tock, tick tock. My trials almost over.
I don’t want it to end, but you’re leaving me it’s clear

A night I regret. I’ve never been so scared. I told you I loved you and another man appeared. Taking my strength the little I had left. No longer can I appreciate your light because that man took my eyes.

I’m really in the dark. Visions to see. You were so unhappy with me. Is it my fault? Did I do this? Should I have listened and reported it? It doesn’t matter now because you no longer care

I did it to myself you said it wth out words. You no longer smiled, or looked at me with love. And here they were again telling me to leave.

This man doesn’t love you. It just can’t be.


I’d fallen so deep in love with your eyes. Your smile had made me want to try.

Leave him they screamed. Forever ever? You’d say. But here we were still 1,000 miles away

My trial is over and it ended with a bang. A long text message I sent with regrets. Knowing I needed you, but listening to everyone else. Knowing you were done with me by the look on your face “let’s see how that works for you” it’s what you said.


3 months I spent on my phone
Late night calls, and I didn’t feel alone
3 months I feel oh so deep. In love with everything you mean so much to me.
3 months and my trial had ended

I had to pay up. What was the cost?
My heart is all that I had to pay.

Worth it I now say, because although you have my heart. I know what it feels to be in love.

Worth the pain, and now the lonely nights. As long I know that you’re alright. These months were worth all of my tribulations.

Now I know to listen myself, and no one else.

I could still be happy. Still in deep. Paying for my subscription for you indeed.

3 months of love
3 months of pain
3 months of hearing your name.
Every picture every word. Remains deep.

I didn’t realize then how much you loved me.

Because I was your Penelope.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
boom! days like this: surprising come 4pm... while spending
the afternoon slob-esque... too tired to cycle...
some Adam ******* movie...
  don't mess with the Zohan?!
    Hebrew humour... slap-stick... simple...
easy-going... i don't like complicated jokes...
comedy should never be intelligent...
tragedy... that's another bag of bagels...
comedy out to be something to resurrect
the child in man... so much of it... ugh...
too complicated: the trying... the twying...
too tired for anything except for making three attempts
at taking a ****... sun's pretty... sunshine even prettier...
a decent glass of the wine i made....
and then 4pm hits... a message from one of my managers...
Saturday's event is coming up...
Tyson Fury's last fight of his career against Dillian Whyte...
Saturday, Wembley... mammoth shift...
sign in at 12pm... sign out at 1am...
                                   i'm almost thrilled to be taking
the Jubilee night tube for the first time back to Stratford
then... the N86 back to Romford... then walking back
home...
      finally! finally! my patience has paid off...
i listened, i respected everyone... i was just a puny steward...
work that wasn't even work to me:
not... not if you've been a roofer prior... **** easy
load of *******...
         i get a message from one of the managers...
give me a quick call...
    so i call him up... good afternoon, what's the issue?
oh... we've had to... shuffle the roles up a little...
would you mind being a supervisor for the entire
media crew? you'll meet and greet them...
and then escort them pitch-side... £14 an hour...
        but you'll also be working longer...
oh thank you... i'd greatly appreciate that...
   phone down... shoom!
            bye bye... oh this one guy... just got on my nerves...
on the same level of the hierarchy...
but... brain damage... worked longer...
was familiar with the girls... started thinking it was
a good idea to boss me about...
        standing out the stadium like a bunch of pawn
******... directing people... confiscating alcohol...
telling them they couldn't come in with rucksacks...
**** yes!
             Apache Indian: Boom Shack-Ah-Lak...
  finally... doing something i once recalled as useful...
must have really did a good job in other venues...
and... technically speaking...
i should have an NVQ level 3 to fulfilling this role...
oh... the practicality of the workforce...
when experience and: trust play a bigger role than
merely qualifications...
             meritocracy! i've found it! it was lost for a while...
but it's back... and... booming...
now i can't wait... i'm actually going to see
the last fight in Tyson Fury's career...
   ring side with the media crew...
                           this isn't work... this is a free pass!
mind you... pitch-side for the West Ham vs. Frankfurt
Europa League semi-final too...
tickets are currently selling... cheapest? over £300 (s)quid!
he he... ha ha...
                       ****... which means...
tomorrow is going to be a day of compact exercise
to beef up a little... and general hygiene...
nail cutting... i need to visit my Turk to trim my beard
and moustache...
   and i'll need to visit my hairdresser so she can cut
some lawn off my cranium...
   i'll need to re-iron my trousers... doubly polish my shoes...
hmm... make myself some extra lunch...
whoever said that work is drudgery...
               well... if you haven't been over-educated for
certain things... i guess it must be... boring...
for me the rule still stands at that black joke:
arbeit macht frei...
                              escapism... it really is...
                         in terms of what could be considered
manual labour... personally? it was a lot easier dealing
with inanimate objects... less stressful...
it's a lot different dealing with people...
              all that veneer... façade... i'm actually...
awed by my ability to have been able to pull this sort
of rabbit from a top-hat... well... yeah:
like a magician... after all... i'm the one psychiatrists
diagnosed as either schizophrenic or psychotic...
i mean: if you've been given a diagnosis as bad as that...
and now... you're... going to be a supervisor
for the media crew at Wembley stadium..
            ha ha... my face: right now... is a full moon...
and i have a smile on my face like a crescent orange...
well... someone got something wrong...
along the way...
          mind you: they never figured... maybe:
bilingualism is not a mental-disorder... hmm...
                i don't think they figured out that fact out...
maybe... 10 years from now...
    but by then... i'm already happy...
                     - there's this massive philosophical angle
to all of this:
   no one can imagine... how being down-trodden
feels like... until... the reverse happens...
as a man... you bask in... being entrusted with
something... outside of your "supposed" reach...
     oh man... it's far better than being...
what's the term... having women over-invest in you?
i'm looking... looking...
         oh hell no... to stand on equal footing with
men in a workforce... to distinguish yourself...
to be promoted... that's better than...
being able to approach an nth number of women
with bedroom success...
                    you get to feel: more: complete...
you allow yourself to find a totality: the sigma / sum
of you... you're like: right...
i can move the whole of me... rather than some
pitiable shrapnel of me of only being a hard-on
eager puppy...
            i can put on a masquerade... of...
professionalism...
                       and unlike being a teacher's pet...
although... in history class... i was a teacher's pet...
i just enjoyed the history of Anglo-Saxon England
too much...
                what?!
          but in the workplace... it's... phew... oh... ooh...
so relaxing working with strangers and not being
in the authoritarian hell-hole of working for
your father: i don't care if the money is not better...
but... to be released from the entanglements of
a father... being thrown into a... brotherhood...
sure... there are superiors... but...
the greatest teacher was my grandfather...
          he knew how to deal with people...
           just shakes hands: keep a firm handshake...
and firm eye-contact...
the rest is easy-peasy-cup-cake-baking...
             jeez! and i was such an outcast in my 20s...
seriously... after coming across the choir
and the great wind that dispersed it...
     i secluded myself...
             the demiurge was this: || close to ruining me
completely...
i have to thank him for giving me a second
chance... i guess i was: as best as i could have been
to my Hebrew neighbour...
but this is better than seeking pick-me-ups
while having *** with prostitutes...
   to hell with fame... i just was a nibble of the world...
the whole... fame fabric can... dissolve...
i just don't want to suddenly find myself
surprised at being mortal:
and... doubly surprised at being unable
to give up... what i've worked up towards!
life... spare me: give me just a little...
   and let me allow death no satisfaction when
it comes to rounding up the loan of life...
              have my books... have my shashka of
a wooden branch i made to look like... a Cossack sword...
have my stamp collection... have my collection
of banknotes...
          one thing... eternity... and those 72 rottweilers...
well... dobermanns... Alsatians...
all three... and i need plenty of forest...
fields... hills... mountains even... to just go:
******* and stroll with these dogs...
          i'll give death everything i own for that...
and... could you... sort of...
you can take my phallus away...
but can you ensure i have at least one diarrhoea
sit down... i mean: taking a **** sometimes
feels better than an *******...
  that'll be nice... no... i don't need the idea of eating...
just taking a ****... i can't forgive eternity not allowing
me to... (a) take a dog for a walk...
(b) taking a ****...
    i don't need to eat... i hate eating because:
i hate chewing anything beside poultry meat,
cartilage and bones... oh... i go right down to the bone...
the moveable angle parts... not the long-staff parts...
just the "heads" of the bones...
   but chewing... in general...
   sit down... relax... ah... a chocolate smoothie!
a chocolate slush-puppy... ooze: Hamza!
   Hamza! bring in Ibrahim!
                              i'm already too tired with this
libido insomnia... i'm starting to think that...
the NIQAB is a good idea...
i'm seeing too much raw meat...
             and: it's not counter-intuitive...
i like the tease of form within the confines of tight
yoga pants... ***** like peaches...
but... when it's all in the outright open...
yawn... bore... there's a routine involved...
               exercise... aphrodisiacs of white wine...
     i tend to forget the batteries for a hard-on...
like: auto-,
           it's not mystery i thought;
hmm... let's bypass this cultural practices and go
for something... orthodox...
blacklisted... money on the table...
            hook up hook on you:
let's go fishing...
                     you're not into eating fish?!
not one of those Presbyterians?!
             by now... does... it even having to have
to matter?
           black boyos just leaving
a load of ketchup in their currency
of the current rap: sing-along...
              fudge-packing ego...
                    ha ha... idea being:
you send the same African hot-rods into Africa...
among Africans...
             the tribe leader... sold
your ancestors...
because: you weren't equipped
to run the marathon...
             yeah... but Dua Lipa is... Albanian...
what does it mean? it means:
she's not Russian...
                             party ******* central...
sure... hence: i party...
in the underground... because:
the overt-crowd of cultural presence
is... eh... sort... sort of boring...
                  rain's more exciting...
everyone acknowledges that trans-racialism
exists and that it's wrong...
i just need my licence...
to become the proper gorilla: bouncer...
to the point of: showing my knuckles and telling
someone: **** / kiss this.
Izanda Zeravla Jun 2016
Well here we are
living all together
In the incredible enchanting
thing we call America

And for those not in,
The thing we call the world
Living peaceably "supposedly"
and happily
all together,
all in one.
Then why are we in such an uproar?

Anyways we go through the day,
completely oblivious to one another's
hard times and struggles
Only motivated by filling that hole
in our pockets-and pocket books
Which seems to be growing deeper and deeper
by the day
what a shame...

Anyway, once again go bout my day,
my folks come back from the store

A chicken in the fridge
it sat there for a day or two, but didn't seem to spoil
Mother admits she likes the chicken from
Publix better
I said it tastes more like chicken and less like rubber
A bit overpriced she thought but now that
chicken will be bought again and again
because it's worth it she says
And no, no this is not a "promo"for publix
Just something I observed
every now and then...

I agree with my dear mommy
Don't know about you,
but I know about me,

And I,
would cry
at the mere thought of giving my child
something filled with gmo's
and growth hormones
don't even know if that's chicken anymo'
and...


I would cry
because you see
nowadays
You can't tell
who's six or sixteen
thanks,
I give my courtises
to dairy companies
and chicken factories...

And now
we got people like
me blowing the horn
on food companies and...
wanting to sue the FDA
for what they think is right and okay
to give to our fragile growing little souls
I have 3 younger siblings,
So I would know...

And so now i'm blowing the horn,
A new sound is born,
I'm blowing the trum- pet

On all Trump's pets
and they have to realize
a road of separation
and segregation
is just not right the way it's not okay


But that's were we are heading
I will prepare my bedding
and pack up my
"two piece" of nothingness
prepared to go as soon as they say...
Sigh...I'm in distress
and the thought of this
just to much stress...
And

They try to "build a wall"
but all your building is the hatred
You cannot honestly tell me
a wall is the safest...

Or the most secure

They have to realize
if you have the same mind,
Then you have the same
mind-set
And must I re-mind them
That the same thing you dish out
Is what you'll get...

Hate...Fear
love has disappeared

So quite frankly
I think I'm good in
my corner of the woods
being unnoticed
by those who don't choose to look
beyond their naked eye
to see if something more significant might lie
somewhere
behind this
Un-smiling face

Cuz' I wanna hide from the world
sometimes...

So me
and my mummies over-priced chicken
and my points of views
and my way of livin'

Can stay over here
if the world comes along then that's
fine with me...
If not, then that's also fine with me,
You see
you cannot
ever
force
change.

— The End —