There is an image
Working to free my mind
From violent dawns
It probes at the backs of my eyes
It tells me I am prostituting myself
Here in my bedroom
In incestuous union with myself
I hallucinate and fantasise about
Doctors sons, butchers boys
Teenage thieves, deserters
Drug pushers, scandalous rent boys
Vagrants, pimps, prostitutes
And silk lingerie and don't care.
I sit destitute of thought
An insonce dissonance of macabre music
Playing out melodies of an image in my mind

none of you understand what i’m saying is i’m not like any of you never married never parented children never owned real estate don’t believe in government the law hate rich people not afraid to lose everything risk life for the chance at a better life yes i graduated from Philadelphia dental school practiced medicine several years dashing handsome cordial Georgia physician yet knowing i was dying then of tuberculosis i wanted to feel alive know danger taste possibilities ******* greedy ranch and railroad barons all you cotton gin grist mill moguls loud mouthed Yankee carpetbaggers bounty hunters self-righteous snake oil preachers with your fearful farmstead flocks what the hell do you think Big Nose Kate and me were doing in Tucson why i risked my life at Tombstone’s OK Corral i’ll tell you why because we were desperate beyond your comprehension long-drawn-out careworn hours twisted in desperation insufferably plodding nights so desperate Kate relieved me daily yet in back of each our minds we understood we were both slaves to ancient unfair corrupt economic system that provided enough whiskey to cope desperate for money allegiance shelter frantic enough to face loaded guns aimed firing at me it was hell on earth glaring sun beating down desert dust blowing burning eyes bullets cutting everywhere 1880’s revolvers lacking accuracy even with expert gunsmith modifications young men riddled with bleeding gunshot wounds in 6 years i was dead age 36 hey Kate was no cakewalk she was a ***** who knew how to play me flirting charming admiring exaggerating her strange Hungarian lust encouraging provoking prostituting on her knees back tummy fingers mouth managing somehow to become acquainted with Arizona Governor George Hunt then surviving to age 90 you modern day sleepers who read this rambling cower at airport security passively submit to insidious militarizing culture invasively inspecting camera scanning for cuticle scissors nail file weapons all ludicrous absurdist theatre while real bad guys can easily tape 3 McDonald’s plastic knives together or ball point pen pierce pilots passengers throat arteries skyjack planes hijack bus trains you are no safer than you ever were before Homeland Security Czars foreign wars where we don’t belong riding has grown so weary courage ruthless longing vexing generating entire industry of airport security corporate mall tariff duty free shops inflated restaurant menu prices liter bottle of water $4.99 welcome to America **** me now or **** me later who cares what i look like what i wear if i’m dry shaven smell like goat if i cough up chunks of lung spit tuberculosis germs on polished floors just so long as i pay the toll fee and don’t go shooting off my mouth

Box fitted vans moving on the prowl.
Waiting for these kids in an easy take
Preteen gangster violence,
With your lovely daughter playing *******.
We're all thievish wolves,
All hungry for more, we're hungry for more.

So please tell me that this is under control.
As our sons sniffing the product you were forced to recall.
Please tell me that this is under control
while your misses is prostituting just to feel at home.
Please tell me that this is under control
While my darling little princess is lying tagged by the toe.

Our therapies are burning and our do hearts do swell,
Which has got us in love with these feelings, that we've never felt.
And I'll take these violent words as nothing more then a test.
Try to feed me please for this is nothing more then a crimson mess.

This nuclear family
Is decaying
Right in front of me,
Right in front of me.

Covered by the trace in the hallow moonlight, pack of wolves at our back.
Some one calls out in silence, are fresh killers what we lack?
We're ragged fools, just fear in the fold only to feel at home.

Our therapies are burning as our do hearts do swell,
Which has got us in love with these feelings, that we've never felt.
And I'll take this fermented world, right off my chest.
Then lead you to the ruins, for the better I digress.

Now forgive me, this is how the story goes.
Feeding in the innocent stripped to the bones.

Please tell me that this is under control
While your misses is prostituting just to feel at home.
Please tell me we are under control.
Swinging from the gallows, caught by the throat.

(Yeah life be hard *****2)...It be so hard my *****.. (So hard..Everyday2..)..(Yeah..2)Everyday
(Yeah life gets harder ***** everyday..yeah2) everyday.. I just (grind & pray..2)Yeah life gets harder ***** (everyday..3)

I pray all   the time cuz I'm just a human being..I'm  always  asking my Lord to please guide me & always stand by me..Im so weak & alone in this world/...In  This  white men world mane..I need Jesus to always protect me  because with him I'll always will be ok...In this  white menz world..Uhh..you can be a rich *****  but still less than a penny is mane....
Selling yo body for the money.. Yall fucc ******  getting **** & played by these record companies.. ***** we living in mental slavery..Uhh
I wanna see all  of my ******  fly up to the gates...Yeah up to heaven to chill wit the greats...Yeah my  ***** so  follow me & my ***** recite these  lyrics everyday & speak them everyday..Dawg,I can feel the holy spirit speaking through me ..Dawg..My lyrics are written so  nicely, sometimes I can feel  Tupac spirit  standing right beside me..Makaveli is  coming back sooner than you think..like the end of days..you betta repent sooner than later..Uhh
Imma Outlaw  *****..I'm immortal, Im giving my life up to God..No I'm not rapping for the money bru,i rap for all of these ****** incarcerated doing time dawg. Free all of  my ****** ..I rap only for the real ****** Yeah..mann...Free all of  my ******..

Aye man..I really don't care about selling a whole stadium out  my *****, no my *****.. (Im on a mission to  **** this new world2) through these songs,that I have written..(I have  resurrected from the grave...2)..
From the grave,my *****..I wanna delivery my ****** from all of the pain my *****...Yeah take my ******   away,my *****..Yeah I want all  my ****** to be free my *****..

(Yeah life be hard *****2)...It be so hard my *****.. (So hard..Everyday2..)..(Yeah..2)Everyday
(Yeah life gets harder ***** everyday..yeah2) everyday.. I just (grind & pray..2)..Yeah life gets harder ***** (everyday..3),..Yeah

Everyday
I'm praying for my ****** everyday..Im reading the book of Jeremiah everday,, just to  keep  me thinking of the hope  that God has  promise me... I keep writing ever minute to help me deal with this pain, because my ***** if I don't keep on writing my ***** I just feel so weak..everyday my ***** ...my flesh always tempting me to do the wrong thing..I'm pressured to be a  nobody..In this white mans world mane..That's why I keep on  writing..If I  dont my ***** I just feel a desire to not  even try anything..Uhh..**** Im not no  perfect man..I'm not tryna be.. its really hard to live life as a saint when I have been taught for so many long   years to  live the ways of the beast..,but I'm making that change,today..

Aye man..Fucc being under mind control im  one of Gods  soldiers..so I have to be stronger than what  this world is dawg.. I feel so lost homie, I don't even know the right moves to  make no more..I keep making the wrong turn & I keep  going the same  way dawg.. It feels like the system is made to keep us below in every state bru...I'm just another **** ***** hustling every **** day dawg..in this white mans world today ...Im just really grateful to still be here alive  & healthy my *****..because  I could bee the next  Trayvon Martin or Mike Brown,shot & left young & dead on these streets..Ayo..They never gave a fucc about us mane..noo
Uhh..They never even given us a chance to be redeem..So instead  of pointing the guns at each other..let's turn em on these white manz my *****..****,Yeah..!!

History keeps repeating itself man
..You need to educate yourself first,don't never be afraid bru..I'm getting  so sick & tired of   hearing all of this "change" ****.. & hearing these sweet  rapping *** ****** bragging about something that's rented..My ***** we need  more blacks like Martin Luther King & Malcom X  *****..Real true ****** that's willing to die for being real yeah.
*****..instead of getting on ya kness & prostituting for the cheese...Yall ****** that keep claiming how yall so  real..Stop being Lil **'s then ..Yeah man..
Dawg..
I'm so tired of Satan getting his shine on.. ***** Its my time to shine dawg..Yeah *****   this is the rise of an  Outlawz.. Yeah..Fucc the world..& I don't mean that  in a ****** way, but let's destroy it mane..I won't die *****,never..**** boy you can think I'm crazy, well I ain't the first to think this way mane,Aye man

My ***** I  just wanna live free yeah.. Yeah my ***** I want you to be a free dawg..Yeah I wanna free ya.Don't yo *** want to be free bru..Instead of being trapped..my *****..Im going to free all of my ****** like the Shawshank Redemption..Uhh..Its real fuckd up when Biggie ain't even here man..Why the **** does money even  exist,,cuhz ****..it means nothing to me bru..so  just fucc it.. ******....Money really has no true  purpose or any control over me , its just an distraction homie ..Uhh, so  I rather die a poor man than being a  rich sad man...Yeah instead of being  in  hell I rather see  heaven man..(Yeah I wanna live forever...*3)
Forever & Ever...Uhh

twitching thighs
a skin deep kiss
your love goes to your curled toes
and you grip with your nails
onto velvet skin thats paper-thin
as if it's all you have left to live
for a minute
you don't miss
a high worth the 15 minutes
you wipe your lips
adjust your hips
get up and zip
inhale carbon monoxide
reminds you of the moment
in your garage
fade out
into the shadow
the door left

It was a desperate kiss.
I could feel you pulling away-
going inside yourself
and I was trying desperately to pull you back to me.
I was kissing your neck,
trying to bring back your pulse.
I was kissing down your *******,
trying to make it quicken.
All I knew was that I wanted you.
I needed you.
Here.
Now.

The Bible clearly tells us, "We are fearfully and wonderfully made."  Why ******* your body, ending up in the grave?
There are so many men you travel with, looking for a thrill.  After fulfilling their need; you are the one they ****.
Your body has been created, unto the glory of God.  Don't let Him get angry at you, and began to use His rod.
Women learn to respect yourself; your body is not your own.  God's Son bought you with a price, yes even your 206 bones.
By, Author & Poet, Sandra Juanita Nailing

People watching people
Gazing at screens
Crouching behind veneers
Of interconnected
Digital
Fibre optic
Cabling

Safely connected
Safely disconnected
To their
Subjects
Objects

Judging them
Demanding cosmesis
Ordering alteration
Controlling behaviours
Controlling people
In an out of control world

The watched
Conforming
Naively
Desperately
Daily
To gross
Aesthetic stereotypes

Pandering
To the hits

Prostituting
For numbers

Disordered society
In which watchers
Hold power

Are you asked
How many views do you have?

Is it enough?

Are you popular
Enough?

Are you worth
Enough?

Are you ever
Enough?

Freedom is premium priced,
At the casino of the world nations throw the dice,
The tables are rigged by the fat rats and mice,
Girls in curvaceous miniskirts on poles entice,
***** laced drinks and cancer sticks merrily fleece,
Fizzy burgers are served filled with crucified cheese,
Layers of salt and blood and veins congealing with grease
Are the fillings inside the consumed meat,
Come to the sale of the century and let your life be diseased,
Take whatever you want and still you will never be pleased,
Remember, one day all will be held to account, so all evil immediately cease,
Do not make the mistake of prostituting the glorious deeds of Hercules
Or polluting and selling the message of almighty God so cheaply.



©Rangzeb Hussain

perscuter
victim /_\ rescuer

here's to ending this pyramid scheme:

the rescuer is:
jumping bean in trauma closet
the persecutor is:
a vampiric silence
the victim is:
numbness prostituting for warmth

and they shift ominously like phases of the moon

The Steamy air Hung heavy
In the Office of the Private Eye.
Kansas City in August
The Air wants to die,
Or it only Smells that way.
Drifting up off the Riverbank.

Thelma my receptionist Waits
Filing her nails by the Silent Phone
If things Didn't Pick up soon or Late
Bills would have me Down to the Bone
Chasing Bail jumpers, something I'd Hate
Have to settle on, less some business was done

Just as I knocked back a Belt of Bourbon,
Came a Knock at the Door, in Walked
A pair of Legs from Here to there, to look on
Not sure if it was the red of her lips,
Or the red of her bright Hair,
But a Swing in her Hips Got me there.

She Laid on the tears as she told me her Fears
A Long lost sister being run by the Mob
Prostituting she said with a Gasp and a Sob
Her Silk Stocking legs crossing Sealed the deal
I'd put an ear to the street and find out the feel

A Kansas City Kingpin ran her on the street
If I staked out a Corner I'd see them Meet
Slipped my .32 from the Leather and Spun it once
Checking the chamber for a full Loaded Gun
I hunched down in the front seat of my old Chevy

It was only Minutes till he played the Heavy
I shouted out stop, as he Pulled a gun... Popped
It Seemed like Slow Motion as his body Dropped
She screams for Police, next I'm Cuffed by a Cop
Long legs says I stalked her, and am Patently Crazy
I took the Fall 'cause she set me up for the Patsy

The moral of the Story is..........
"Dames and Bourbon Don't mix".....JMF 12/11/14

your metre blackens the page
beautifully dancing fonts
caress the delicate surface
like skaters tracing their dance
across the ice in blades

an expression of genius perhaps

your gorgeous muse laughs
joyously titillating imagination
positively prostituting herself
to your phallus stylus *******
your fertile imagination
spawning verse birthing phrase

and I don’t understand
a single ******* thing you said

can you conceive of an in-built: a priori "gender" gratification "ontologies": i.e. the male ontology, the pre-deconstructive focus of a willing change? well... what's the canvas like these days in academia? i still hold a door open for a woman, among, the, "plebs"... i'm a pleb too... woo hoo! so now i have to conceive of the gentle trickle of an ex-built: a posteriori "gender" counter-justification "ontologies": i.e. the... she-man ontology, the post-/ pro-deconstructive focus of unwilling change to the reminiscent continuum of circumstances... oh... you know me, academics just love, love verbiage... this is just one exempli gratia... it does mean something per se... but, hush... on the privy? it can mean, whatever you want it to mean... once upon a time: a man used to find gratification in gender "stereotypes"... there really was a gratification process subconsciously working its way into moulding a man... now? eh... the sort of tom waits' elongated eh from glitter & dust live: live circus... that one... this is a great kandinsky-esque verbiage collage... academics will probably focus on the isolated meanings of words, mumbo-jumbo them back together in a pale replica of voodoo brainstorming and: ici, voilà, alors... à savoir, voilà, c'est-à-dire... which makes heidegger's pedantic schemes... well... da-sein counter... there is such an indefinite article... reducing words to conjunctions borrowed from AND... then applying the article category... da-sein: there-being... there's being... that's really an indefinite article of... sein: being, very ******* ambigious... i have to curse... i'm writing an oath... if "offended" you probably say worse things in satan's synagogue of ****** *******... where you should be speaking vowels and syllables and onomatopoeias rather than full sentences... no one is a saint... here! i'm giving you something on a platter... i'm not using hiedegger's temporal mentality of: across the seven seas, the seven mountains the seven rivers motto for hope... here we are... here, now: hier, jetzt... you figure it out... so am i! oh sure, now we know there's (an) existence to be had, lived, experienced, closed... it's almost a cosmic joke that finds its genesis in: voilà! while the exodus is much more painful... since we're not exactly looking at a magician, or a gymnast... we're looking at... a science school-teacher... we're looking at... a clerk, a street-cleaner, a bus driver... oh sure, sure... voilà! the insurgent immediacy of the awe-insirping rush... then again... perhaps Heidegger implies... the sort of validation of voilà! via da-sein of... the sercret affair of: mundane job, but a kick-*** hobby? hier has no potential beside the collective awe-numbing: oops"?", while da-? there? well there is a vector, a linear framework of ABC (0, 0, 0) confined to an end of: (1, 1, 1)... da-sein is a look into a future, it's not the hier- voilà! -sein fatalist approach of inspection... it's a look into the future... i'll always read philosophy in polish, look at german words, and reply in english... that's how my bilingualism works... two firm pillars... and several loose cannons... i hear one academic speak, i tune into bbc radio 4... i swap my tongue for 9 itchy fingers... mostly index, middle, ring of either arm... sometimes the pinky, sometimes the thumb... ballet of the fingers... and always regarding imitation amphetamines... how can you keep a tornado in your head, without your ego spewing out shrapnel... cohesive sentence structures, narratives? that's long gone... it comes, it goes: just as the whiskey flows... for all its worth: i can vow a true statement with reiteration... once upon a time there did exist a stereotypical a gender-defining ontological-gratification, and exclusivity stratum - of the only two tiers in existence... most men probably miss this gender-defining gratification of... pseudo-malaise... it felt comfortable performing banal res-extensa-theatre tidbits... the simplest of things (acts, etc.) always brought out the most selfless joys... the grand replacement of the Muses and the Furies... ex-pec-ta-tions... morose social norms... and we as men complied... now? how about a song... matta... chaos reigns... how's that? if i was in this game: which i am not a part of... who wouldn't be tired?! to have courted the general splendour of the ramped-up polar opposite ballett via mediocre instances of ****** differences... now? this... fiend... this figment of everyone's seemingly sleeping faculty of imagination... of recurring dreams... of nights without dreams... i am a foreigner and having made the utmost utility of this language... i cannot speak for it, with the sort of biological stigmata of an english caste system...  very much apparent come the Royal Ascot... as i also not a foster parent, or some ultimate-******* example of a surrogate mother... oh believe me... i bring redemption for prostitutes... i've paid a tenner extra for 110quid an hour to show you the hydra in my gob... redemption is all prostitutes deserve... there's a tier above them... surrogate mothers... a bit different, ******* a harem of a single ******... quiet another to be a surrogate mother for two homosexuals... that's another level! prostituting your ****** for an hour? em... prostituting your womb for nine months?! there is no "relatively" speaking here, it's not a rhetorical question... this comes when the women disgrace prostitutes, calling all pundits: slavers... girl likes to ****, and she ***** in the most face-to-face fashion... but i'm pretty sure, that same girl, doesn't rent out her womb for nine months so Jim & Joe can have a ****-up of a toddler's worth of a leather napkin... to wipe off the otherwise apparent ***** from them gobbing down a perfect baked alaskan lolly! but you'd have to visit Amsterdam for that sort of perspective... away from England and that perverse Carry On! *** humour that states: we're all nuns! under the omnipresent scrutiny... and then... 1960s shameless ****... that's what i learned about the English... two-faced nymphomaniacs... or whatever decree... why didn't Henry VIII decide on a harem... or polygamy? i don't like the way the English concern themselves with ***... using terms like: joke, naughty... all things crass... infantile... i hate it... it actually creates a brimming spectacle of boiling water in my head and heart... pretending to be this puritanical could only take a hypocrite to craft a performance act... seems the english have only one form of escapism... ***... which would explain why they need to dress it with as much innocence as possible... which in turn translates into unfathomable depravity... perhaps not in the en masse sense... but at least a few thousand seances... akin to those *** acts... that would require a ******, a dajjal... to be looking... for the man to get an *******... or the woman to be aroused... the third party principle... otherwise? within the confines of the "so-called" privacy? dry cookie crumble - meet limp ****.

.bitter.. or simply... determined?

that's why i like prostitutes,
            it leaves me with
a blank canvas' worth of a narrative...
no cuddly bits-and-bomps...
   just straight talk:
- i get regular STD checks...
- good to know, really good to know.

unlike that age-old scenario
that my father warned me about:
- a girlfriend of mine
tried to trojan horse
   a baby into my lap,
and it was never my own...

   funny that...
i had that happen to me once...
mind you,
i do come from a horrid background...
both the mother of my father
and the father of my father
shoved him into the arms
of their parents...

                 salty... ouch...
*******...
   and i'm his breed...
                       oh, and that interlude
"picnic" of 30 minutes...
when you have just entertained
20cl of ms. amber,
and there's still a bottle's worth
of a sinking ship?
that half-drunk / half-sober
interlude...
                    yeah... those are nice...

ideally in love...
it's night-time,
people are asleep...
    i have to caution myself
from bursting out with laughter
reading some of these poetic...
ahem... group therapy sessions...
i know i loved,
and what i loved,
and i am certain i know
what i ******...
                    because:
it being ******,
replied with the adequate
reciprocation answer...

             the more i listen to incels
the more i'm like...
   this... this is the only "problem",
dating?
              i once took to a speed
dating event at edinburgh
university...
              it went...
as it was supposed to go...
    big L on the forehead,
started digging cognitive
trenches...
      
               the ultimate sign of respect
you have for someone?
eating food with them...
that's my starting line of inquiry...
everything else is just
pretending to tame
******* politics...

                      tell that to
latex lucy... for once in my life
i became an old man in
a young man's body...
               heart started speeding...
the unattainable became all
the more: real...
                  
      thank god that i'm not much
to look life,
so i went among the sort
of women where
upon giving them an ******,
there would be an expression
of anguish, and surprise...

         kanalrattebeißen...
but at least not an english politician's
take on the wriggly **** pit
of a maggot...
          when "god" played
bonsai with rats,
as man played bonsai with trees
and tigers to create cats...
came along the mice...

           latex lucy: everything that's
wrong but somehow right
with this world...
                i stopped myself from
****-**** when i "feigned"
    breeze-'ed...
             oh i'm pretty sure
she's the sort,
the mandible sort of beauty...
     but, clearly...
   i was expecting the typical
******* chub and good humour
akin to that puerto rican in
amsterdam...

              born half a monster,
died... eh... somewhere between:
the polacks never receiving either
german reparations...
  (which the jews received)...
or soviet reparations for
Chernobyll...
       the women were told to drink
iodine, if pregnant...
lovely year, that year 1986
when i was a month shy from
birth...

                but now...
                       if they shut me up on
wattpad... back in 2015...
over a comment which ended:
o.k., great, have a great life;

             well?
     surprises surprises...
leaving one ***** colony,
then finding another ***** colony.
trust? nil.
           hope? nil.
                    faith? nil.
         the chance to encounter
plenty of kleindiktatoren?
   what, whittle hitlers?
          all the time:
all, in, the, name, of, "democracy".
god...
if i'm not going to ****
a latex demigod deity...
i might as well write something
in deutsche:

    as the proverb suggests:
if you don't have what you'd like,
well... like what's readily given.

slicing the surface of your sun kissed
face, i used to nurture each grain and
crevice that decorated your profile,
now i have created the insecurities
that dig through your hard skull and
crumble your layered state of mind,
only for me to sell your pure love
to the fairer man. at the time your
prostituting was said to bring me
wealth and status, but i now sit here
in shame as you have been *****
beyond repair. although i deserve
not a gram of forgiveness, i hope
my patriarchy and greed does
not undermine my apology

-t.m

My mission, Chanel St. Marc Love every women as my sister negating all ****** desire and my appetite of lust. Regard every man compatible, my brothers, similarities or differences----- no two seeds from the same garden are identical. Yet we are formed in same soil. My attempts to covet godschild are countless to ****** grace from rushing temptations. Prostituting my body for notoriety, Not committing everything to heart .I believe in love but help me in my non-belief. Help me when I ignore friendship for ****** encounters.  Discounting the meaning of trust I raise my eyebrows high whenever *** walks by.  Lord oh lord it’s the vamp in her, the beast in me. Fire attracts fire burning as we sin openly.  For the time being I repent and relapse back in to action. The devil focuses my eyes on the worst decision I will make for days to come. I took back my life for my own and shared it with my demons. Control was given to the worst, my blood is now deadlier than poison and impairs my soul. Free my feelings from filth. Fear of being forsaken before death.   My mission, Chanel St. Marc Love every women as my sister love every man as my brother.

Prostituting radiance
a shameless sun
seduces skies. Birds spurt.

i don't really know why the dub-step genre died so early
on, i mean: there were some truly authentic,
atmospheric artists residing in London,
Burial from south London for starters,
Benga - but **** on me, nothing ever came close to
DISTANCE, songs like: night vision, my demons...
the double album Repercussions -
     but the genre died a premature death... i guess all
that ******* regarding "the drop" before all hell broke
loose...

i must say, you tell me to move a tonne of brick:
i'll gladly do it, hell, it means that i don't have to do
100 push ups...
of course i'd rather ******* and do some cycling,
it's a passion, i never cycle for vanity,
i cycle for the thrill of traffic, i love to loiter behind
large vehicles moving to the right of them
so i don't find myself lost in the blind-spot...
right in the middle of the road...
large vehicles, esp. at roundabouts...
   momentum buffers...
always: the nearer i am to death the more of life
i draw... and perhaps it has always been like this:
while men feed off adrenaline,
women feed off anxiety...
how many times did i grunt beneath my breath
when approaching a roundabout and there'd be
a nervy driven afraid to join the traffic:
move *******! move! go!

- you will sooner find my dead than at a gym...
i'm still thinking about going swimming...
then again... the Thames at Cold-Harbour looks
very enticing... the Thames... a river that doesn't flow...
just sits there, like some weird *** elongated lake...
perhaps even a Loch... must be the tide in tide out...
yet... i always wondered...
what the hell happens when the river enters
the sea... is that some sort of inter-aqua osmosis
buffering dynamic or something?

gym bruh vanity projects my ***...
yeah, had this one "friend" who decided to loose some weight...
went to the gym... lifting weights?
when you want to lose weight?
bad idea... a very bad idea...
why? excess skin leftovers... you want to lose
weight: ******* for a swim or get on yer *******
bicycle... do the cardiovascular...
it's all relative: you're engaging your entire body
rather than parts of your body...
gym ******* comes after... for toning...
it's like art... first you paint the canvas:
the cardiovascular stuff... then if you're going
to have a couple having a picnic on the canvas:
that's when you go to the gym... or like me...
you do push ups... move bricks around or...
whatever...

if you're fat and hit the gym? expect to later have
problem with excess skin, like some ****** tattoo
of an ex-girlfriend's name on your buttocks...
and... time, patience... time, patience...
cycling or swimming... nothing else beats it...
- ha, the current climate of cycling while standing still...
Mr. Big's death on his peloton: peddle! peddle!
but don't go anywhere! ha ha...
i'd rather watch paint dry or buy myself a hamster
and a hamster-wheel in all fairness...

alpha-male ****-boys...
                                    hey, i'm not going to brag:
get it while it's cheap, but to hell with dating...
i dated once, but i was already ******* her...
went for oysters... and scallops... she was so desperate in
her hypergamy to stand above her fellow peers /
student flat cohabitants that she ***** herself into
my flat... bypass all the *******... there's only one thing
i feel like eating most of the time...
a fat juicy ****...

- but there really an art concerning the ironing of shirts...
i don't know why i didn't realise this prior...
it almost feels counter intuitive but i managed to get more
done than expected...
rubric:
1. collar
2. the yoke of the shirt
3. the sleeves
4. the cuffs
5. the lower front
6. the upper front
7. the entire body back

   i hate ironing shirts... but finding out this hierarchy
of what's to be done first... it has become
almost as pleasurable as shining my shoes...
arbeit macht frei: *******...
weird, isn't it, how that motto has changed in recent
times under my supervision...

- i only noticed... wait, what was i writing about?
well it's easy to get 100K+ views on a video,
people can ingest a video passively...
   i'm looking at 42K+ for one poem, given that i am
an alcoholic but also a workaholic:
maybe that's why i don't dream...
i just sleep... i fall asleep and "dream" of
a great amass of nothing, i wake up:
oh, look... a bunch of sparrows...
a pair of robins... perhaps it's different on the content
but if you've lived long enough in England...
it's eerie... watching crows fly past in pairs...
Huginn & Muninn... plus... it's not like you
get to see crows courting each other like pigeons
might... watch some ******* is a bit like
watching some pigeons try to get it on...
99% of the time the male fails...
do crows mate in the night, away from prying eyes?
they must do, they're very priestly in their daily affairs...
they not exactly prostituting themselves for
the eyes of man to peer at...
but i can understand videos getting so much views...
i watch videos passively,
i'm usually drinking or smoking
perched on a windowsill with my cat i've started
to nickname Rousseau... he has more nicknames than
is necessary... oh, sure... if i'm about to leave the house
and he's in the garden: QUORUS! the 10kg maine ****
starts dribbling his shadow home...
he sniffs my head... we head-****...
eh... i suppose having a child might have been
a fulfilling escape route: a completion...
but then again i had no siblings:
i was raised alongside an Alsatian and a Dobbermann...
i sometimes talk to my shadow:
what's happening in the underworld?
mein kleine: kleine betreffen...

           speaking English wasn't going to be enough:
it still isn't... i use it casually... i use it proficiently...
but i'm not satisfied with using it...
i need some etymological rooting... i need to go elsewhere...
English culminated itself into existence
from a range of sources... German, French... the Norse
Brigade... i'll go down the Germanic rabbit hole...
why wouldn't i have a fetish for some Deutsche?
oh ******* with the Russian... Cyrillic was always the ugly
sort of Greek... the alphabet looks cheap...
if the Russians are going to use the Latin A...
but invent some ****** version of D... to counter delta...
no... of course i can read it: but i don't want to...
yet...
         even at work, some coworkers tell me of the time they
spent in the USA... why isn't it called the FSA?
the federal states of america?
it's not like California has the same laws as Texas...
united, by... what? flag alone? support for the Olympic team?
i'm going to start calling it the FSA...
even though: it would clearly make the Bruce Springsteen
song sound less pop... born... in the eF! eS! A!

- am i somehow emotionally stunted for not having
children?
i've come across the people will children...
the plums of their eye... whatever the metaphor is...
very trust-worthy... when you bring children into
the world you showcasing a level of trust goes up...
it's almost an unacknowledged bias...
then again: this is England...
you have two factors to consider...
the over elevated concern for common knowledge /
common sense...
but there is that undercurrent... of common courtesy...
two-faced *******: but polite regardless...
i like the Thespian overtones in English society...
at least there's that fake middle-ground anyone
can grasp...

cats are not children... but if you can get a cat to
greet you with a head-****...
you're onto something...
           i don't think i could **** up a cat...
but i could most certainly create a Frankenstein's monster
from a child... that would be disappointing...
i sometimes across children: most of the time they
look mesmerised: by my posturing...
sure... the next generation is coming...
but i wouldn't want to put my gene-extension through
the washing-machine whirlpool of leftoid *******:
to begin with... trans-gender issue blah blah...
i'll go as far as to say... born on the Eve of Chernobyl...
my offspring might grow a third arm or something...
i know that i was born is a mark of Cain on my right
shoulder at the back...
some tissue was removed... intelligent body...
now i have excess muscle growth on collar blade arch...

to be a father, would seem like fun: it's all fun...
until you arrive at the point where the child realised
they have full: individual autonomy...
the happy to go to parents... i want to see them
as tired old people in about... oh... i'd say 10 years...
i'm patient....
not that i'm writing this nefariously...
but reality usually bites back...
what's reality going to bite me back with?
i can't go mad twice... you usually go mad once...
lucky for me that it happened in my youth, when i was 21...
now i can just sit back... watch a little:
ignore most of it...
i'm not even going to mind stating a: 'i told you so...':
shh... it's a big surprise... i don't want people missing
the great surprise...

on the market? women with three children
from three different fathers...
right... and me going to a brothel is a b'ah... bad "thing"?
even among my coworkers i tend to stick around
the women... football hooligans and their ideas
that just by being women: they can calm a crowd of rowdy
teenagers down with the words:
i'm your mother, your sister, your grandma all in one...
because i'm a steward... listen... love...
just let someone who's 6ft2 and 100kg in mass come in
and you... ******* somewhere... watch the moon
or something...

i couldn't be a surgeon if i didn't have a steady hand...
but when **** hits the fan... i already brought it up...
we're not here for an easy, wage...
we're ultimately here to prevent another Hillsborough tragrdy,
no?
that message didn't even recoil with a positive affirmation...
i stand around these female coworkers and they
might want me to feel intimidated...
someone, very much elsewhere might be reading me...
i might add... you know i felt less intimidated walking
into a brothel and waiting to choose among
7 different prostitutes who i was going
to bang for an hour? so what's this?
a ******* raspberry doughnut and a hot coffee scenario?!

am i bragging? i don't know... i tend to attract a lot
of ****** males and females just feel "hugged" around me...
i'm still thinking about Gemma...
yeah, i know that i mentioned that she was
on the defensive: she was on the defensive...
but then my parents are going on holiday for two weeks
and i'll have the whole house to myself...
last time that happened i brought back a Thai surprise
that i picked up from a park bench...
i played her some jazz on vinyl and ended up
******* her in the garden...
she gave me some memorandum items... rings... what not...
she disappeared into her size when i
put on one of my jackets on her...
******* Thai surprise became a Thai ******,
hobbit no less... walked her home... blah blah...

i need to bang Gemma... if i don't bang Gemma in
the next few months i'm done for... she's a 39 year old
single mother with an ex that brought her into 8K+ into debt...
she had a kid with him, the kid doesn't want to know his
father... i want to **** her as much as i want to teach the kid
to play the guitar... appreciate Ezra Pound...

of course i'm a loser by all modern, cosmopolitan standards
of dating... i live with my parents...
not exactly an Ed Gein scenario...
but... i do the gardening, i do the housechores,
i do the cooking, i even iron shirts... i hate ironing shirts...
but as i already mentioned...
i found an extra left hand in how to best get it over and done with...

i pay rent, i pay for food... otherwise, who would i live with?
flat share with some fellow milenials?
someone needs to inform the 60+ crowd about being
hip throughout... obviously they're not going
to listen to the music i listen to...
no: MATTA: chaos reigns... but... hey...

i love the idea of not telling my backstory...
i already know so many...
no one has yet managed to cough up the courage
to ask me anything personal at work...
would i tell them?
yeah...                once you've been in the presence
of 7 prostitutes all lined up showing off...
what's 3 female coworkers to you?!
a Victoria sponge cake, by my estimates...
something tame, something that would gladly welcome
being caged...

i like to wander the streets at night, sometimes
i come across a fox, sometimes a harem of deer without
a stag... sometimes i wander into a forest and start hitting
a tree with a branch imploring:
let me in! let me in!

chaos, regiert! die nacht regeln!

once more! einmal mehr!
English is not enough, tourists speak English...
Wankees speak this filth of a zunge!
follow the flow of history,
from the word up! anfangen!
hier! uns! jetzt! schnell!

                    vieh für ein art auf ein menschen...
das beste gehalten im linie...
  schäfer-von-menschen...
         alt.: hirte-auf-männer...
              
English has become... undermined... calmly said:
"plagiarised": that's somewhat elevated...
useless when it comes to its own affairs...
a lingua of / for visitors...
beside the accents... what is there for the origins: folk?
if Heidegger thought he was lucly writing at the time
of the National Socialist Insurgence...
where, the ****, am i?

   perhaps i speak a barbarian tongue from my...
mother's side, and my father to tow...
purity... what's that word in Deutsche?
   REINHEIT!
EINIG! GEHEN! SCHNELL!

******* linguistic  "mongol" mongrels!
ich reflekiert.... for a while..
the ungleichheit: the disparity...i almost joked...
i scribbled something in my notepad... seeing a commercial...
you know how English is spoken
is very much different to how English is written...
French: Fwench is even worse...
well then..
this one adcert stoood out...
it wasn't exactly special...
  
Licorice Pizza... that's what it red: read: reed..
right... so... first hurdle:
not thirst hurdle(s)...
ZZ? stop... you don't have the capacity to speak this...
just say **** over and over again:
Hugo Boss attired them blah blah...

liquid rice...  blacks for vinyl...
lick-or-ish...
     lick-a-Rysh?!
or an EE combat vest?!
you write one way, but speak another...
standard ******* from either the French
or the English... no phonetic clarity...
i'd better be suited learning some:
Hungarian, if i were to be terrible honest...
but now... i'm here.... this is now...
i'm enjoying the whiskey... *******... hello tomorrow.

"Sometimes I wish you were dead. All of you. I like you, but these conflicts are getting to me. Your needless, never ending, merciless complaints. My shortcomings. Exaggerated, overrated, pus filled pimples you are. You are annoying and one by one, as major and minor as you may be I feel like shooting each one of you down. Angry? Boom. You are dead. Yelling, crying, laughing, screeching, droning on and on and on like a black and yellow bumblebee under the harsh sweltering summer sun. SPLAT! Off with your head and your neck and your arms too. Black and grimy and disgusting on the fly swatter. Look at me! Whatever. Don’t look at me. Your eyes should be poked out. All of you should die. I want to be alone in this world without you. I love each of you ever much, but you no longer affect me. You walk around me, about me, over my head, under my feet, and through me but I will not hear you. I can not feel you. You walk like corpses, dead and mute, and I do not see you. I keep on walking, ignoring you. Forgetting your existence. I am in this alone and I will stay Alone. Devils eyes. Stop staring at me. Devils eyes. Rotting pig nostrils. Stop staring at me. Lifeless you, rotting in your grave, surrounded by worms and earthen colored bugs. Flirty, Flimsy, *****, Red Dress, Flaunting, Flapping, Backless, Strapless. Stop prostituting yourself, you filthy *****. Get off me. Cold, alone, hungry, unsatisfied. Alone only I can sustain myself. I need myself and myself only."

(A rant, more than a poem. Written at age 20- when things got too intense, and I was angry. Thought it couldn't get any worse, but today is proof that I was wrong. At least then, there was hope).

We ***** ourselves out to whoever comes along
Prostituting our morals for pieces of paper
The superfluous pieces of paper that seem to rule the world
Lies upon lies to keep the truth under wraps
Nobody knows
Rounded up and slaughtered in what looks to be a serene beautiful place
"It's our culture and our race"  
It's population control, we are doing a service
While they slip you poison in your dinner
Let's disregard all the blood that has seeped into the ground
Those who take a stand, we beat them when they stand
We are the culprits but as well can be the saviors
We are ******* the life we are given, till its dry and barren
And the blood is increasing by the minute and soon the sea will be red
Corrupted and needing to revert
Thousands crying out, but the cries fall on deaf ears
And we don't care
Because haven't you heard?
It's the new fad to be cruel
With red water flowing through the currents
Of this red sea

each day brings more frightening imagery
compounding hate and bigotry, free press
humanity cannot survive under such duress
the wall writings tell a simple tale needing to be heeded
there is no winning a race war on American soil –
blacks attacked will eventually fight back
and tear down any vestige of the status quo
leaving those of us with fair pigmentation
to bake and rot in the late summer sun
this, of course, barely placates the new power –
too far gone down paths of racial injustice
has America travelled to tout itself as the land of the free
from mistreated natives, land stolen and treaties broken
the poor Japanese citizens placed in concentration camps
more than two-hundred fifty years of my country
abusing, cheating, prostituting, and disenfranchising
the men and women who built the nation that hates them –
I find myself with a growing concern regarding our direction
daily, news outlets give fuel to the most dangerous of fires
working with super-human diligence and verve
they impart violent propaganda to impressionable children
babies with access to bullets, beaten, battered, and beneath
the lines of poverty so prevalent within this culture –
I sit at a dinosaur click-clacking away
behind the glass patrician, inmates of every walk
all quietly working, pencil to paper
fourteen testers with no common heritage
working together for the goal of their education
it is here, in the penitentiary, I see what hope looks like –

Hollow *****’s are they that trample over the innocent,
Grabbing for power like only the unworthy would,
Prostituting for perks because they’re willing to get ******,
......................So I used to believe,
Back when I was a naive idealist,
But life shows all sides of the coin,
I have seen first hand and I have learnt,
I have learnt that their empty victory’s still beats my trusted loss,
I toil without complaint,
I’m no saint,
But cross my heart when I say,
I follow the path with a loyal integrity,
Fierce in my fight for respect,
But to what end I ask myself,
When this path has so many shortcuts,
When those who walk on it literally **** on the grass,
Who then cares if my efforts are justified,
Justification is the ******* of the weak,  
It doesn’t keep the lecherous from my door,
It doesn’t give me abundance,
It doesn’t get me anywhere so what’s the point,
When it comes down to it,
when I’m stood at the gates to whatever’s waiting,
When I finally look back on my life,
Will I still be clinging to my misguided morales,
Will they feel good enough to of justified this life of second best,
Do you think the taste of righteousness is as sweet as the treats I forgo,
Or will I look back with pitiful disgust for my time wasted,
Lived in the light of what’s right,
When all along I’m jealous of the fun in the shadows,
I am tired of this ill rewarded propaganda,
There’s no bonus for living a good life,
I don’t want to die poor and bored,
I can’t beat them so why shouldn’t I join them,
I know they don’t write rhymes about me,
They won’t be carving me up in their circle,
They don’t even see me,
Yet their existence ignites me,
Or is it jealousy and disgust at my own weakness,
Why shouldn’t I be on the inside,
When this world stands by its teachings,
Then maybe I’ll stand again,
But for now,
I’m ready to run with the revellers.

Well
I was living fast and loose,
but clung like moss to a
morning tree

Look at me and see the reprobate
suffocate on false promises.

and him that died upon yon cross,
lied,
but do you give toss?

No you don't and yet you won't
cut me an inch of slack.

Going back is easy for me and so
I'll make it hard and go on,
forwards to what every history
desires of me,

the prodigal
prostituting hopeful remedies
against this life and its maladies.

The malefactor factors in and
we all know that's a fukin sin
to do and be pariahs of society.

I can and will wake up to apples on
my window sill and Sawyer catapulting
praise across my breaths,
so many ways to read and understand
and what requires is us to
take a moment, breathe deep
and let
sleeping dogs do what they do best
count to ten
then exhale.

When in doubt, pouting about, feeling empty without…
Say it loud… ain’t this Somethin’?

Everything is possible, the universe is proof
The infinite and the finite
We all know how to seek & look,
Dream big out loud, drink up the stars,
Say it… now, ain’t that something?

If Everything is everythang,
Then Nothing’s impossible
To achieve, and it’s easier to blindly believe,
But we must prove it with something
Seeing is not just looking
Like a man,

Who wakes from sleep walking,
(Footprints in the sand)
Because sometimes, having Nothing leads to
Hating everything, but I tell him, (Lucid now)
Ain’t Life Somethin’?

So stop the ******* complaining, wars & politicking
Killing and polluting the planet, please stop...
Now
Don’t stop making more of love, no sexting
No prostituting out your family’s church
When it’s door to door, behind closed doors,
In missionary…
In the family, the genus of propagation
Genius of gifts, over population...
***

A little something can be everything,
To those poor and lonely.
Hungry
For a smile be it ever so
    humbled
Behind a mask ‘ can’t breathe,
“—‘Said speak don’t mumble”
Show some sincerity please
just because...

Ain’t this Somethin’?
Witnessing this moment’s
Spectacular Now…

It’s Time we have/
More than talk
(tik tok)
Don’t spend too much of it trying
Or surfing the web crying
Living ain’t dying, just quit hiding...

—Rather, Go! play outside (boy)
With Laughter and joy —it’s quite
Somethin’
To gaze upon starlit skies
Rather soar on high/ space flight

Big Bang —Surprise! ...
Ain’t Life Somethin’?

Live it, love it, hate it, **** it
Not for nothin’
But ain’t you Somethin’?
Give it your all
Give it life, you mothers...truckers...shucks!
A Word is a word, ya heard?
Cuz Life is quite Somethin’—
At birth Til six ft *****
We are worthy
We are...
Certainly beloved,
                  ain’t it Somethin’?

(If it's your life, be ‘Captain’)

love is a lie, a fool’s errand, a lost cause of being burned and churned; chewed up and spat out; of hate and bitterness. teenage veterans traumatized by the senseless romantic violence of the endless ****** wars.

of ****** prostituting themselves out to Chads and Tyrones, eating like pigs at an unlimited buffet, using, abusing, and abandoning, when they’ve had their fill.

of simps acting like dancing monkeys entertaining and quenching thirsty Stacies, who string them along, placeholders until a Tyrone pays attention to them.

Now I’m A LYRICAL GUERRILLA... !!!
Who’s A VERY DEEP THINKER... !!!
  
So Am NOT Some *******...
Like That Paedo’ Gary Glitter... !!!
  
Or The Type Who Beds SISTERS... !?!
Because What Kind of Heart...
Would Tear Sisters APART...
To Fulfil Their ****** Needs... ?!?
  
Like Some Kind of HUNGRY MONKEY...
That LACKS... MORALITY... ?!?
  
Now By Sisters I Mean...
Those Who Are Part of The SAME FAMILY... !!!
  
Because Those Kind of Antics...
Are Those QUICKLY Redacted...
  
By Guerrillas Like ME... !!!
Because I’m NOT Like These FIENDS... !!!
Cos’ I’m A DIFFERENT Kind of Breed... !!!
To Those Who Choose To Feed...
  
Like Count Drac’ And His Team... !!!
of Bloodsuckers Who Seem...
To Be The Type Who Lead...
... And Run Societies... !!!
  
So My GUERRILLA Tactics...
Feed LYRICAL LASHINGS...
That I Give Through Poetry... !!!
  
Because I’m LYRICALLY...
… MORE DANGEROUS... !!!
Than These Young Emcees...
Who Just Chat BREEZE...
To Earn Themselves Money... !!!
  
Who Show WAYWARDNESS...
And Degrees UNLIKE The THREE...
  
You See My Verse INDEED...
Is VERSATILE And DEADLY... !!!
  
So I’m More Like A KONG...
Whose Lyrically STRONG... !!!
  
So DO NOT Belong...
In A World of Shapeshifters... !!!
  
Where Those Enlisted...
Are Regularly... ******... !!!
It Seems By Shirt Lifters...
And Monetary Grifters...
Who Run From TRUE Guerrillas... !!!
  
Whose Form of Lyricism...
Is Simply Too HARD HITTING... !!!
  
Because Their Breed Is WEAK... !!!
So Employ DEVIOUS Ways  ...
To Keep Their Puppets CAGED...
As Well As Lyrically TAME...
As Long As They SEE FAME... !!!
  
But REAL Guerrillas...
... DON’T Walk That Way... !!!
  
They Walk In Ways Too STRAIGHT...
For The World... TODAY...
Where Groups Now DICTATE...
What Entertainers Say... !!!
  
Well REAL GUERRILLAS AREN’T Willing...
To Be TAMED And Placed...
In Places Where They Lay...
Like PROSTITUTING Dames... !!!
  
Because Our Lyrics DISPLAY...
Wordplay That SHAKES...
And DECIMATES These Fakes... !!!
  
And PUSSYHOLES...
Who Are CONTROLLED... !!!
  
Like Robots Being Made...
To Patrol And Act Like They...
Can Pretend To Be HUMANE... !?!
  
It’s CRAZY Now To SEE...
How WEAK Most People Be... !!!
  
While Protests Make Some Feel...
As If They’re Being REAL... !!!
  
When... Most of Them...
Are Part of THE PROBLEM... !!!
  
Because They’ve SHUNNED GUERRILLAS...
Until Their NON EXISTENT... !!!
  
Because This New Breed...
DOESN'T Seem To See...
That New Technology...
Can **** INDISCRIMINATELY...
And Face NO PENALTIES... !!!
  
Just Like TODAYS Police... !!!
  
Who Now DON’T Seem To Be...
So Willing To Police The Streets... !?!
  
Because of... The Disease...
That Corona CANNOT Beat... !!!
  
The DISEASE of FALLACIES...
And IGNORANCE That’s Reached...
  
LEVELS... Now BEYOND BELIEF... !!!
  
Which Is Why BIG VIRGE...
Is A Wordplay KILLER...
  
Who Can ONLY Be DEFINED...
  
As A.....
  
.... “ LYRICAL GUERRILLA “....