Nobility divine fills gaps of transcendence,
    Soars to and from the throne heavenly,
Exalts morals near the king of ascendance,
    Patrolling the good, and sons of the seventy.

A duty forgotten, replaced with dependence,
    On prayers rarely heard, and logic of a herd -
Divinity is far in absence; man in attendance,
    The book is a third, and teachings are blurred.

Andeliviuan corruption supposedly erased:
    The creation rotten of Sariel, wanders gaily.
The holy and fallen angel’s doing embraced,
    By the clay beings caressing evil like a frailly.

By God not, who from heaven him displaced.
    Yet, the legacy of the wrong stands humanly,
In Thailand, America, Palestine, and all graced -
     A grace of sinfulness celestial and worldly.  

Religion is the poor’s only ultimate truth,
     the rich’s side hustle, and the rulers’ tool;
It is the loss of power that defiles the sooth,
    The one the poor has not, but does the fool.

Robbers’ servants, bread crumbs consumers,
    Toothless **** dogs, emaciated lost tramps,
Little blind pawns, vultures’ puppets, tumours,
    And wrenches they are, the upper hand’s lambs.

If only Raguel’s judgements fall upon man,
    Raphael’s punishment beautifies this existence,
Gabriel’s wrath makes not all humans ane,
    And Michael saves us, the Sarahs, in assistance.

In the heart deepened with old repression,
   That mounts with plenitude of filtered feels,
Resides a universe yearning for expression,
    In a meat clay who feeds on calories of meals.

Man, in the genesis, in the light, in the dark,
    In prosperity, in turmoil, triumphed with vices;
vileness, abuse, wreckage is our sole mark,
    On this planet whose population is in slices.

pre-scriptum that's actually a p.s. - shock value: staggering! what? peering into an empty glass, where once pirate ***-one-eye and damsel in distress ms. pepsi once resided! shocking! what now? well... guess that means a refill; ahoy the next glug glug! shave my ***** hair and call me p'ooh bear while you're at it; go on, skippy... MOVE IT!

a lazy ****, lodged up your ***...
suggesting
   itself, ever so slightly as being
present...
  man... the most terrible drinking
companion to date...
   in such moments it's never
much,
    it's not you're going to be *******
out a boa-sized tapeworm...
but you know: the general
discomfort, like wearing female underwear...
and it never is much,
it, just, *is, there, forcing you
to think about its presence,
and that's more annoying than:
are we there yet? no. are we there yet?
no. are we there yet? no, no, no!
******, take the plunge,
be off with your ******* sloth
dynamic of pretending to be a cute
parisian pastry in the display window
in some parisian bakery!
*******!
  that's what the blank said to me:
write me a funny one...
   less ***... and more:
         the confinements of taking the 2no.
for a stroll, past st. peter's gate
and toward the throne of thrones...
sure thing floating choccie...
     but just:                     imagine!
mmm... stardust and cinnamon...
   my grandfather had this knack of
describing his **** as:
         i was just around the strawberry
fields... oh look! i also found a dozen
plums, and a handful of, cherries!
have those with milk, and that's
            the perfect laxacative, that is.
on a serious note though...
(what's the onomatopoeia for snigger?
that painful kind of laughter?
                don't know? me neither) -
it's hard to think when you
have a "hitchhiker" who has suddenly
outstayed its welcome...
             a bit like the nicotine
"hangover" in the morning...
         **** me the excess of phlegm...
you hark, you bark, you snort backwards,
you spit, you sneeze,
you do everything possible to clear
the cavities...
   after a while you finally reach
the morning bliss of:
  smelling mint next to you...
you obviously water it to make the scent
exfoliate and become more potent...
but on a sober note,
this sunday times magazine
article by india knight got me thinking...
well... not really "thinking"
just bothered...
      she's moaning about loneliness
and the solution: ***-bots...
    she mention ****-boast gabriel -
and the flacid **** when you'd prefer a cuddle...
the sad bit?
       apparently men are the prime
instigators of this "phenomenon"...
   men only need ***-bots, someone tell them
they're loved...
   thanks... next i'll ask a cave to echo back
a hello for me, morphing my voice
into that of adelle's...
   look at my face... it came back in spanish!
biggest turn-off, (how to teen girls write it? ah!)
                                EVA!
sieve the eden eve into it?
    now i know that's funny, but i always write
it assured that it isn't...
sometimes i get it wrong,
   sometimes i even get a laugh for myself...
which brings me to the crucial point...
company?
           well yeah, i have "conundrum" -
the memory of a sober me from 1 hour ago...
    he likes to iron shirts,
  watches female football...
         likes ***** dancing because:
"apparently" - the film with the best soundtrack -
loves cooking, loves taking out the trash,
turns into a menace with his cats...
               no, i'm not buying it...
ah, what's the point of selling myself like that,
it becomes a pretty boring ambition
of getting to mid-life and ******* younger girls...
i always thought that youth guards youth,
but... no... sour note that part...
   well... nothing like turning to the guard
of cenobite invitation...
   and **** me, that ship has... sailed!
   oh look, a pretty moment,
                     a ship on the canvas of where
sky meets sea, and a lonely ship,
           and a sun taken to skinny-dipping!
just like a gay might say with
exact syllable peacocking: mar-ve(h)-loose!
louse? sure dingy-dingity-****
    two sopranos and three ballerinas later...
john? was it john? daaaarling...
   you're my favourite compensation
                                              to arthritis!
seriously? ***-bots are a man's thing?
    so they made their pro-bot movies akin
to ex_machina...
  but do people still remember
    that ***-bot in spielberg modern twist
on pinocchio via the a.i. movie?
   wasn't the ***-bot male?
                        lucky girls...
here with my bone-structured "****" imitation...
who ****** who with a
       flacid soft-pouch-of-a-kangaroo
****? shanta claush? sean... i told you to stop it!
     shorry.
                      shure you are.
ah, **** yeah! ****** joe! -
now that's tacky, we've moved on - now they're
called the teenage mutant turtle...
     teenage.... turtle... mutant... avengers?
whatever:
michael, raphael, gabriel, uriel, saraqael,
    raguel, and remie....
   theology and fame... ah... you probably
heard only the fraction 2/7...
    what part was the part where "lonely"
was implied?
the part where i like my own farts...
    or the part where i find it really, really *******
difficult to even sleep with a cat in the same bed?
or the part that i fall asleep best,
with a lullaby of a horror movie sountrack?