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Terry O'Leary Mar 2016
The typewriters tap,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
like a fourth estate rap
to provide us the pap
(that serves as a snack with a rat-a-tat-tat)
in a newspaper scrap
crammed with meaningless crap
from the editor's yap
(spewing flimflamy flak, booming rat-a-tat-tat)
after gashing a gap
in the daily recap
with a snip in a snap-
sounding thundery clap
crackng rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

And the talking heads speak
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
of the news of the week,
tweaking tongue in the cheek
(with a click and a clack like a rat-a-tat-tat),
thus ignoring critique
'cause they're mild and too meek
in the midst of the reek
to report of the wrack (except rat-a-tat-tat)
whilst the pundits (oblique
when protecting the chic
of the upper class clique
at the top of the peak)
chatter rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

The NRA ghouls
plug a rat-a-tat-tat
while their blood money tools
fill the Hill’s vestibules
(where deceit behind drapes drips a rat-a-tat-tat),
spreading folly that fuels
frenzied hands of young fools
bringing guns into schools
(at the drop of a hat there's a rat-a-tat-tat
splashing blood in warm pools)
for now anarchy rules
(which the hype ridicules
'til the temperature cools)
hailing rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

Lawless cops, cutting loose
with a rat-a-tat-tat
spraying bullets profuse
without any excuse
(just a split second splat with a rat-a-tat-tat),
splay a rattled recluse
like a Thanksgiving goose
gushing cranberry juice
from six slugs in the back (with a rat-a-tat-tat).
To redress such abuse,
bend the branch of a spruce
with a neck in a noose
while Death's drums beat diffuse’
rolling rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat.

War brings freedom to all
with a rat-a-tat-tat
(well, excluding the thrall
with fear, facing the wall
[ often smacked with a bat, throbbing rat-a-tat-tat ],
until feeling the call
to creep out of the kraal
biting back with a gall
[ with a *** for a tat and a rat-a-tat-tat ],
or to mangle and maul
if still able to crawl
and be part of the brawl
in a freak free-for-all,
midst a rat-a-tat-tat and a rat-a-tat-tat).

Holy warmongers praise,
with a rat-a-tat-tat,
any soldier that slays
and all rockets that raze
(the drones zoom with a vroom and a rat-a-tat-tat)
leaving smoky arrays
of gray ghosts in the haze
cloaking mute cabarets
(hushed, the hip and the hop, by the rat-a-tat-tat)
while ol’ Cerberus bays
with mankind in his gaze,
so society prays  
as it rots and decays
(Satan's trumpets of doom blare a rat-a-tat-tat)
until one of these days
in a flash through the maze
mighty mushrooms will blaze
with invisible  rays,
fin’lly braising the craze
of the rat-a-tat-tat,
   and the
            rat-
                 a-
                    tat-
                          tat.
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)

Once upon a time in the city of Omurate
In the southern part of Ethiopia
Omurate that is on Ethiopian boundary with Kenya
There were two prosperous animal families
Living side by side as good neighbours
in glory and pomp of riches
Each family was ostensibly rich
And rambunctious in social styles
They were the families of African rat family
And the Jewish cat family; the city belonged to them
They all enjoyed stocks of desert scorpions from Todanyang
From the savanna desert of Northern Kenya,
The two families also enjoyed to feed on desert locusts
On which they regularly fed without food squabbles
                               Locust themselves they flew from Lowarang to Omurate
From Lowarang a desert region in Kenya, to their city of Omurate
Sometimes the Jewish cat family enjoyed an extra dish
In form of puff adder flesh, especially the steak of the puff adder muscle
Puff adder were cheaply available in plenty at the lakeshore,
Lakeshores of Lake Turkana
At point which river Ormo enters into Lake Turkana
So the cat was happy and relaxed
Even it rarely mewed,  
Neighbours never often heard its mewing sound
The rat also enjoyed plenty of milk with no strain
Easily gotten from the rustled cattles
Cattle rustled by the Merilee; a warrior tribe in Omurate.

That day the cat had gulped milk since morning
Even its stomach was bulging
Like that of Kenyan state officer
The rat had milk all over the house
In the kitchen, milk allover
In the sitting room, milk in abundance
In the wash, room milk all through
On the bed, milk and stuffs of milk
The rat was bored with nothing to be enticed
Sometimes plenty of milk can become a bother
The rat mused to itself in foolish African empathy
That may be the cat is starving in pangs of hunger
With nothing to drink, or may be it has no milk
When the milk is rotting here in my house
It is un-African for food to rot in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full,
On these thoughts the rat washed its legs, and hands
Finished up with its face,
Put on its white short trouser and a green top
It stuffed its tail inside its white short trouser,
The rat poured milk into two pots,
each *** was full to the brim
It carried one in its left hand
And balanced another on its head
In its right hand was an African walking stick
For the elders known as Pakora
The rat took off to the home of the cat
In full feat of animal love and philanthropy
Whistling its favourite poem;
An Ode to a good neighbour,
Walking carefully lest it spills brimful milk,
It entered into the house of the cat without haste
Neither knocking nor waiting to be told come in
In that spectacular charisma of a good neighbour,
When the cat saw the rat it giggled two short giggles
And almost got choked by indecision
For it had been long since this happened,
Since the cat had dine on milk leave alone rat meat
The rat said to the Jewish cat that my brother
Have milk I have brought for you
Have it and sip here it is; the real milk,
In devilish calmness the cat told the rat;
Put it for me on the table, thank you,
But my friend Mr. rat don’t go away; there is more
More for you to help me in addition to milk,
Continue my brother Mr. Cat, how can I help you?
Don’t call me your brother; bursted the cat,
For it is long since I ate the rat meat
And you know rat meat is our stable food
In a frenetic feat of powerlessness the rat was confused
In attempt to save itself
it pleaded that my dear elder, I was
Only having plenty of milk in my house
And to us African rats, it is a taboo
To have a lot of food in your house
When the neighbour’s belly is not full
So I only brought you the present of Milk
Please have it and drink,
Without taciturnity the Cat retorted in persistence;
I know and I am thankful for your good manners
But remember with us Jewish cats it is heinous sin
Forget of a taboo, it is blasphemy against the living
God for one of us to leave the rat free from our house
For you rats are the only stable and kosher food God blessed for us
The Jewish rat family all over the world
So shut up your mandibles, I am to eat you first
Then I will take milk later as a relish.

With its herculean paw the cat crushed the rat
With mighty of the leopard culture
Throwing away the white trouser
And green top from the torso of the rat
The cat ate the rat with voracity of the devil
After which it punctuated its mid day appetite
With slow and relaxed sipping of milk
Slowly and slowly as it felt its internal greatness
And hence the African proverbial cry that;
Behold foolish angst kills the African rat!
WARNER BAXTER Jul 2015
livin' is a crime
the dollar's worth a dime
local government
landlord wants the rent
the I. R. S.
says they get the rest


(bridge)
wooo, ooo, oo rat race, Oooooo ooo it's a rat race

working nine to five
just to stay alive
stabbin' in the back
catchin' all the flack
interest rates and loans
keepin' up with Jones


(chorus)
wooo. ooo, oo rat race, Oooooo ooo it's a rat race
are you a member of the rat race
keepin' with the fast pace
wooo, ooo, oo rat race


the dollar's worth a dime
livin' is a crime
just to stay alive
workin' nine to five
landlord wants the rent
D.C. government
guess who gets the rest
the I. R. S.


(chorus)
wooo, ooo, oo rat race, Oooooo ooo it's a rat race
are you a member of the rat race
keepin' with the fast pace
wooo, ooo, oo rat race

wooo. ooo, oo rat race, Oooooo ooo it's a rat race
are you a member of the rat race
keepin' with the fast pace
wooo, ooo, oo rat race
wooo. ooo, oo rat race
Oooooo ooo it's a rat race
rat race
rat race
Oooooo ooo it's a rat race*



written by
Warner Baxter
One Knight Stand Productions
all rights reserved
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
probably the best day in my life...
it's too hot to eat...
i'm getting leaner...
must have lost about 3kg...
    just one Cornish yoghurt with
some strawberry under-filling "jam"...

currently drinking whiskey
listening to a Templar chant -
  veni sancte spiritus...
i'll probably move onto some Byzantine chants
and then some Muslim songs...
whatever...

but what i really want to do is move
onto R.E.M.'s automatic for the people...
finishing a reply to: night-swimming...

no... nothing about skinny-dipping
with the full voyeurism of the moon...
snow... ice... salt and darkness... and the biting
cold...

this heat is intolerable...
i spent the day glues to the wooden floor...
i was switching positions...
to one side... to another side...
one leg on the bed...
lying on the floor...
one leg one arm on the bed...
no good...

              it became so hot that whenever i lifted
my torso up...
i lay down: FARTING with my back...
literally... i haven't eaten anything in
about 3 days... well... "eaten":
i find technical grounds to suggest:
you eat something when you get to
**** some of the excesses out...
ergo?
        i've eaten the bare minimum...
ergo: i haven't **** anything out...

the zenith of summer is intolerable for me...
i hate summer...
   even if this years summer brings with it
no snails... or flies...
just ants... spiders... and rats...
i do hope the rat problem i'm having
in my kitchen will be resolved by the heat
rather than rat poison or the "guillotine"...

i was lying on the floor dehydrated and feeling
sort of serene...
i think i could die from hunger and dehydration...
then again: what's a calorie intake
from merely alcohol?
         it probably does fuzzy "things" to the brain...
no wonder i'm listening to Templar chants...

me at my worst...
         strange... the Templars were the most violent
of the crusader camps...
yet... they sang the most...
it's not like the Knight Hospitaller...
hell... match them up: the Templars with the Teutonic
knights...

i've come across these two men
in my nearest past...
distraught creatures...
     "rats" willing to bite their tails off...
i too was in their confinement
of de profundis...
                  no one but me came to my aid...
scuttling... lost... blind... torn...
i'm sort of happy i could have helped them...
the good one can give unto humanity
is so cheap yet so expensive...

   perhaps it has been my purpose to not
attain wealth...
     then again: i'm already wealthy...
the Romford public library doesn't own
a single book that i possess in my private library...
it did, though, put me on course
of acquiring Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus...
but that's about it!
   the rest is junk! i live in a city where the public
library is a joke, compared to my private collection...

this reality is: truly... PUNISHING...
Ilford had a better selection...
i gained some recognition writing my A-level essay
on the counter-Reformation in high-school
based on the research i did:
from the books i found in the Ilford library...
i just heard that the next class of pupils
were introduced to my work...
but the current reality? PUNISHING...
                
i had to resort to *** with prostitutes...
i do remember the last one i pleased...
           no... it's not working... BITE IT...
she die... it wasn't working... i had to return
the favour... slobber in oyster juices...
probe with my nose...
                insert my index and middle...
as imitation...
                         personally? i find giving a woman
oral *** rather therapeutic...
        play me some monk songs while you're
at it and i'd reached the godhead...

one of the traits of the myth of Gomorrah...
******-eaters...
   i'm one of them... short tempered:
***** beyond repair...
                        i could drown in a bottle
of whiskey and about a dozen *****
properly dished: hygienic...
just frenzied with taboos of...
               flowers... pink and slightly purple
tinged bouquets of floral flesh...

flowers... endless bouquets of floral flesh...
maybe that's why i write so:
i abhor talking during ***...
i tend to insinuate my partners to refrain
from talking during the act also...
if they can't: i don't restrain them...
but i contain myself to the maximum
of an onomatopoeia... there's no "daddy"...
there's no "*****"...
        i'm of the persuasion:
you ever **** me like animals **** each other...
or there's no ******* conversation
outside of *******... the end...

and this is what makes...
songs akin to the Templar chant: veni sancte spiritus
so... so... DOUBLY ******!
it's a hidden eroticism...
because it disguises what could otherwise
be a misunderstood ****-eroticism!
it's not! sure... women sing...
but when men sing to other men about
something that's deified: by each individual man
and therefore unrelateable...
by "casual" constraints leading toward a belonging:
a camaraderie...

that's different...
             no wonder the Teutonic knights had
a brothel in their citadel...
sometimes... you want an excuse... any excuse...
to bypass the narrative of Eve
and return to the Hells and Heavens of Lilith's
company...

damaged? no... hardly... i'm just unlike any
of the Jihadi G.I. Joes and Johns of the current era...
i actually want fame postmortem...
and i actually want a harem in "heaven"...
i'm testing the waters... not by killing people on
the whim / promise...
   you begin with ******* prostitutes...
                 you end by ******* prostitutes...
stealing kisses... performing oral ***...
this is me CRUSADE against whatever the JIHAD
has made available...
thank **** i made my way towards Turkey...
now i'm planning advances towards Iran...

- i still think one of the best albums ever recorded
has been, so far, R,E.M.'s automatic for the people...
just like i remember courting her hands
with firm grips while eating her out...
peeping with a pseudo-voyeurism into
her eyes...                   sure: my *** is not gay-pride
***... it's what was made available:
certainly nothing sadomasochistic... organic...
law-breaking... all the more real:
the reality being:
it's illegal to own a brothel... in England...
it's not illegal to frequent one...
BASE...

the SIDEWINDER sleeps tonight...
            well... i'm not sleeping: right about now...
i said i would and i did...
cycling shirtless... t-shirt-less...
furry brother on the run from the sun...
what an amazing feeling...
just like R.E.M sang about night-swimming...
hmm... NIGHT-CYCLING...
   in my world no is trying to fall asleep
or thereby trying to wake up...

there's just this grey glue of people
in between of being in between...
and that's almost contained within the word:
hubris... hell... even better... a compound
of words: a hubris-hiatus...

             i like that... "we" should invent a HH
dep. to make sure the HR dep. are doing their job...
maybe i'm just dehydrated...
haven't ingested enough calories...
or maybe... i'm seeing clearly while other people
are still forever: fuzzy...

ready and to burry your father and your mother...
what did you think when you lost another...

not my words.. worries wiped and dusted...

NIGHT-CYCLINNG...  SHIRTLESS...
barbarian within all that's could be
compensated with a "whole"...
hours prior?
dealing with the heat...
the bed could be considered useful...
if it wasn't for the excesses...
i prefer the floor...
i'd like to think that knocking on a pine
tree would spontaneously
conjure up an idea for a door...

then again... could a forest conjure up
a house... and a desert too?
                hmm... pyramids...
necropolis axiom...
               who dies, apparently: lives on?
no?
                     then i best be dead...
                 thinking is an involuntary act...
sort of automatic sort of by no persuasion
sort of forced without any originality...
hello: oranges and no future sunrises!
hello: how's you: ******* too?!

how's that?!
         me? i'm sort of chirping along with
angels like a pigeon ought...
because: pigeons ought: chirp and chat
with angels...
              and i want to breathe death
into the minds of gods... telling them...
you ought to be subordinate to what's
the required burden... that we ALL... SHARE...
THIS... *******... BURDEN!
savvy?!          no! there's no in-between
we either share this burden:
or we don't! if we don't? well then...
the gates are open... we annihilate yourselves..
we work with each other?
    there's a second chance we might
breathe... or swim... or take a liking to
bicycle...

            then again:
i'm not going to care that much...
i just want a harem...
             i find women boring...
if they're not multiplied...
i have a short attention span...
and a long attention span...
i'm just too envious of men prior to me...
i don't want to be distraught with
an envy of Solomon...
    
and i kept drinking: because i felt and felt some more
intellectually isolated....
i couldn't conceive a retention of intelligence
beside the realm of what could be obtained:
or rather... disregarded...
i could never become "Cosmopolitan" enough...
"gay" enough... "proud" enough...

these days a litre of whiskey is not enough
for people of my "incompetence"...
it's enough, though: to lean either left
or lean right... or... neither...
                         goof: my indifference is screaming...
a silent scream before the altar of Moloch...
times are changing:
nothing really changes...
           the perpetual expansion
of space...
poetry > mythology > history > journalism < poetry...

death's not really apparent until...
what's not supposed to be dead...
is actually dead... is... dead...
          by curiosity concerning the colour purple...
all out mortal concerns
confines to the allocation of
collecting pillows... to replicate clouds!

my friend died... a grandfather to no one
beside me... but also my cycling buddy...
yet all these people became involved in
guilt tripping... some daughter... some son...
i lost a... friend!
i didn't lose a grandfather! primo... i lost a friend!

i sooner bled from my head
than i cried with my eyes!
i associate the name JOSEPH with: LEAVING...
i smear my tears like women smear
their fake attraction chemicals: apart...

to the burdens of death and to the burdens of life:
death to the living... and life to the dead...
at least some are unreliably
unaware that they are there, yet.

one comment after another:
but isn't that Ii? there's no N... in that... it's iota-iota... not lambda amber... well... great... for shallow beginnings... best try scribbling some graffiti...it could make my commute more memorable... don't... seriously... i was just traumatised by catching a rat in my kitchen... i was keeping a female main **** in between my feet... even she ****** off from the dying sounds... death by snorkeling on a bleeding snout? bleeding from biting the tail off?! if a rat's dying in a way that makes the cat *******... and you're like... should i open the door and stab it to death?! yeah... great Cyrillic sort of ******* br'uh..

you ever listen to a rat die?
ever listen to a rat die in such a way
that your cat runs: the **** away?!
my father compares me to a rat...
he doesn't compare me to
a fox or a vampire: wish wish...
i'm just a rat...
              
   i just wept... listening to a death
of a rat...
i wanted to open the cupboard
and stab the baited ******
with a guillotine applause...
         but then i thought:
i suffer... you suffer too..
         hell... if the cats are not going to touch
you... i'm not coming closer with a knife
either...
death the great deceiver...
   with life the greater culprit... of making:
sacrifices...
more that's to be lived than
is to be expected to die...

           did "god" say as much?
what's the point: if... a limited number of potentials
are not exposed to the glory of my "thinking"...
i expect more to have ever been alive
than for those to have been accounted
as the arithmetic of by death's: queue...

remarkable... my father keeps calling me a rat...
remarkable... sure... i drink...
you ever listen on a rat dying
from a rat-trap? then again: i don't know...
i started to insinuate Morse code
by scratching a knife
against the cupboard...
imitating / creating circles...
that ******* squeaking...
                       the retaliating motivation
to pursue life!
       i took my Maine **** into my lapse...
to wait for her to pounce...
even she was distraught...
she ****** off.. even she was like...
sure... you open the cupboard door...
aim the knife...
or... you get a good night's sleep
and let the rat die on its own...

listening to a rat die from some minor injury...
i'm thinking... of men dying beach-strapped
to their injuries come D-Day
concerning Normandy...
     i like to have the luxury of being
this forgetful further...
getting sentimental about listening
to rats dying in traps...
in the middle of the night...
while i was no Newton and i'd prefer a pear...
but... a cat... couldn't listen to the torture...
a cat... a cat couldn't listen to a death of rat from
a trap...
i lodged her between my legs in order
to pounce...
she ****** off...
    she couldn't stomach it...

you ever listen to a rat dying in the middle
of the night?
i thought about the death of my grandfather...
i should **** mosquitos more often...
i should **** spiders more often...

but rats?! oh... **** me...
the way they struggle coming to the fruition
of their expected life...
scuttling... scribbling... scratching: nibbling...
the squeaks...
CATS *******...
seriously... a rat's dying: the cats *******!
me too... i ******* and drink to excess...
why if your father calls you a rat...
and then... hey presto! you catch a rat!
and you're killing it...
well... tear... umbrella... raindrop...
one fine autumn day...
                   thank you dad:
but i won't be mourning:
like you weren't mourning for your dad...

maybe... what's that? maybe i wish i had a
a wife... then again... maybe not...
i just listened to a rat die... scratching like
mad...  
                 sure... the day was great...
being glued to the wooden floor over-sweating...
until... scuttling and nibbling...
a rat caught in a rat trap... probably dying...
the ******* cat was traumatised!
cat! not predator?!
                                or maybe it was the fact
that i was weeping and wanting an apology
to come through...

i haven't eaten much in the past 3 days...
i need to sleep...
i actually need to fall asleep in my bed
and wake up in it... rather than
on the cold floor with not pyjamas...
i abhor summers...
              these superficial insomniac events
of non-event.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2018
well, wasn't it so oh so beautiful
once upon a time:
a naked man holding a fruit -
fast-forward....
            a monkey holding a rat:
hmm...
      enter Elvis: ahum ahum hum:
shimmies aways...
if genesis was to be rewritten again
it would be a monkey holding a rat
thinking about a tailor and a barber
with a schizoid format of interpretation
of an octopus!
  said whaaaaaaaa-t?
said that.
   maze needs no rat,
         rat needs no maze,
man needs both rat and maze -
but man doesn't need
      rat, when he's already
acquired a need for a maze...
    and there's the: a need
to acquire a maze and disavow
a rat...
                  the human "concept"
of a soul: or animation force -
has become degenerate from
monkey through to rat...
             if the ancient Adam was
naked holding a bitten-into apple;
modern "man" is
but a monkey holding a rat.
   i'm far from casting the logic of
counting or spelling...
even though i can do both...
   that man needs a maze
but not the rat...
     in reality: the rat is not welcome...
but to conduct a proof /
  pirson of meaning there is a rat:
in a maze...
               so Tetris is debunked...
and?
               the monkey has evolved
and thus devolved to a rat status!
no... wrong...
                  technology supports
the antithesis...
             the rat is the proof
that a monkey is in a cage, and can peel
a banana!
       ****, wrong answer:
the rat can bite off its own snout!
                            ¡ay, caramba!
wrong again?
                can anyone be right using
this ******* spreschen?!
WARNER BAXTER Jan 2014
~
LIVIN' IS A CRIME
THE DOLLAR'S WORTH A DIME
LOCAL GOVERNMENT
LANDLORD WANTS THE RENT
THE    I. R. S.
SAYS THEY GET THE REST



IT'S A RAT RACE
ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE RAT RACE
KEEPIN' WITH THE FAST PACE
WOOO,   OOO,   OOOO,   OO,  RAT RACE



WORKIN' NINE TO FIVE
JUST TO STAY ALIVE
STABBIN' IN THE BACK
CATCHIN' ALL THE FLACK
INTEREST RATES AND LOANS
KEEPIN' UP WITH JONES



IT'S A RAT RACE
ARE YOU A MEMBER OF THE RAT RACE
KEEPIN' WITH THE FAST PACE
WOOO,    OOO,   OOOO,  OO,   RAT RACE


REPEAT CHORUS

WOOO,   OOO,  OOOO,  OO,  RAT RACE

RAT RACE   WOOO,  OOO,  RAT RACE

RAT RACE
RAT RACE




written by
Warner Baxter
One Knight Stand Productions
Under A Tangerine Sky Entertainment
Phoenix Arizona 2010
all rights reserved
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
i know that just by drinking i will not feel good
with myself, i need to write something:
drinking alone never made much sense...
drinking when partying and socialising...
drinking when going to night-clubs almost:
almost always failing to pick up girls...
**** me... at my lowest i still managed to flirt
with a girl, kiss her dance with her...
   i even walked her to the bus-stop...
before she asked me what i did:
i said i was unemployed... i sort of forgot to say
that i was a poet in the making...
perhaps that's why i don't think i'm an alcoholic:
although... in a week's worth?
    i probably drink... how many units is a bottle
of whiskey?! 40... 4 x 7 =... ****... 3 x 7 = 21...
add a 7... that's 28... then add a zero...
i drink close to about 300 units of alcohol per week...
ha ha... and on the bottles?
   it reads: chief medical examiner for England
suggests that adults do not exceed drinking no more
than 14 units per week...
ha ha ha...                             ah ha...
i have a worried mind... i already said to myself:
like Prometheus... i'll sacrifice my liver to salvage
my mind...

and i'm willing to sacrifice years of my life into
my mortality's "winter" for the current ride...
i know the risks... i'm just really worried about being
constipated... and... eternity... eternity is a dawn
with a night before a day...
it's scaring me... should all of it be true...
well... the thought started scary... eternity?!
while all these insects live only days...
with infanticide and the neunormen

new-norms and old-taboos...
and then back to new-taboos and old-norms...
some people think time is linear... given history...
some people think time is cyclic...
we read history with a grain of salt and hindsight
and repeat our mistakes...
i? i think time is a sea-saw...
we're like a tide... a tide comes in...
a tide goes out... sometimes we appear
spectacular... like at the height of the Roman Empire
of the zenith of Greek intellectual curiosity...
then we fall back... allow for barbarian invasions...
what was spectacular about Ancient Greece
became Byzantine: i.e. bureaucratic...
muddled... the only great aspect of Byzantine
culture was the chants...
oh sure... the Greco-Judeo pact did undermine
the Latin influence...
the New Testament is a testament of the Greco-Judeo
pact: to undermine the Roman Empire...
no?

     it isn't? oh... come on... the myths because over time
myths: given time...
go along the pyramid "scheme" of:
mythology "<" history "<" journalism "<"...
          aha! now poetry comes to the fore...
which way are we going to go? "<" or ">"?
  what a wonky looking L... or Γ (gamma)...
then again... maybe it's one of those weird
"Copernican" Vs....
   right... how now: write the plural of vvvvvv...
without the apostrophe that's also
suggestive of v's... i.e. V owns a lawnmower?
right... move the apostrophe along... Vs'...
because... it's not versus: hence no vs. <---
  the full stop...

to reiterate: i learned to constrain my frustrations
on Samuel Beckett's Watt...
i remember one sunny afternoon
lying in a park and laughing from frustration
at the complications of the language...
laughing out loud: getting a wave hello from a small
boy walking back from school with his mother...
i wasn't laughing at anything particular
or for that matter universal, just the per se...

how else? vs' or vees or vvvvvvv etc.?
plenty of v v v v v v v
                 < < < < < < < <
                > > > > > > > > > ?

we haven't moved that much from the ancient
world... where letters had a duality of being used
as phonetic encoding symbols and mathematical
constants after all...
VI + IX = XV
    6 (b) + 9 (P) = 15 (IS)

now i would to being an alcoholic is i simply
drank to drink...
but i'm writing... i need creative juices...
if i'm not jerking off to pictures of mature
women... Ava Lauren... come on...
it's a Porsche of a body...
i don't need to watch anything... just the photograph
and i leave the rest to the imagination:
although compared to the cinema of memory:
the cinema of my imagination lasts at outbursts...
sure... if i were simply drinking...
to "cope": drinking before a mirror
and falling asleep with a hand placed in a bucket
of water to wet my bed...
yeah... then i'd join some A.A.... ahem...
midday "group therapy session"...

but i'm busy... well into the morning hours...
scribbling like "mad" like... the monk who wrote
the Codex Gigas...
       me? devil or my own ego? i like my garden...
only today before my expedition i offered
two plums to my neighbour and my mother...
i brought these kind fallings in my hand outstretched
in my palm... washed... obviously...
but i didn't usher in any confusion:
no conflation of knowledge
regarding: what's good (universal)
   with what's evil (particular)... hello!
                       Greco-Judeo conspiracy...

wow! Δ delta... that's not the "letter"
Pythagoras worked with... is it?
   he was working out why either L or Γ
have either \ or / missing respectively, no?
          but delta? Δ? that's an isoscoles...
now... i dare to wonder: akin to Heidegger:
  question-worthiness arises from a spontaneity...
questions asks themselves...
people just need to find them...
this is but one example...

you know when you're sitting in a garden...
and you hear a shoom echo in the sky...
but can't see anything...
right... there's a jumbo-jet flying over your
garden... you hear it first...
seconds later you see you...
**** the chicken and the egg dynamic for normal
people saluting the mantra of passive
curiosity...

what came first?
Δ or the triangle?! that's a big question:
a question that Wittgenstein could only appreciate...
since he wrote so sparingly:
but i have to admit... his stance on tautology:
the thesaurus... mine: on thesaurus rex...
and the dictionary omnibus...
                          i want to repay Samuel Beckett
with the same frustrations he poured onto me...
this is my revenge... i want to fry brains and then:
freeze them...
            
what came first? Δ (the letter) the sound...
Da da da or the triangle?
my guess is: ****... i've already answered it...
with what?! the use of ******* pyramids...
but how Δ morphed into D and how did the pyramids
become abstract "all of a sudden"?
ah... the glory days of Greek intellectual curiosity...
its genesis... oh too suddenly ***** by:

the myth of the origins of Rome...
the Aeneid: a Trojan holiday in Tuscany after the fall
of Troy...
    
but no... i couldn't simply drink and pretend
to look into a mirror...
i wish i could have been a painter:
then again: no...
i can't leave "****" to abstracts: to some "suppose so...."
"suppose" he "thought" this blah blah blah-*******...
ever get "*****" by a South African
with ****-friction that was so bad
you thought you were getting circumcised
of putting your phallus inside an enlarged earthworm's
mouth-gut?
    i have... it's not a pleasant experience...
knock-knock on wood... ****... not wood:
knock-knock on bone: i.e. my forehead...
               what a terrible **** that was...
and she was raised in society... a teacher at some
boarding school... all boys...
******* cocoon ***... in the dark...
under the bed-sheets... never... ever! again!
but at least i now know what a slightly timid
beached whale of a ****-blonde stereotype looks
like...
           dry ***** are the worst...
seriously: it felt like ****...
on to occasions i had problems with getting a hard
on with prostitutes...
this one time: fair enough...
it was my first time having a *******...
obviously i was nervous...
but when i was... ahem #metoo "*****"...
i was as hard as a fiddle...
   what the **** did she spike the food with?!

well.. what's done is done... Johnny Depp was believed:
a fully documented affair...
ah... this conflation on the basis of the word AND...
it's not like "he" said: and you will know
the difference between either good or evil...
that "we" will know the difference between
good AND evil... knowing our ontology:
we'd be prone to entertain good as evil...
and evil as good... in the latter instance:
the more lasting, entertaining prospect...
               aligned with our hoarding sentimentalities...

Kierkegaard was onto something...
but he just didn't have the bilingual or the "autistic" /
"schizophrenic" focus to drill the baron of 90
into a corner and establish grandiose architecture...

it's one bad "thing" after another...
the fact that i might be drinking and not scribbling:
an opportunity wasted...
but the fact that i can't find the right sort of music
to listen to while i scribble...
hell... if i could write in silence...
but it usually takes one song...
a song passed down...
BRYGADA KRYZYS - to co czujesz, to wiesz:
Crisis Brigade - what you feel, is what you know...
sampled from an album from 1992...
Poland... i never imagined them being
so bilingual... how did i arrive at the song choice?
i was revisiting Edinburgh trying to get back together
with my ex-Russian lass...
  failure... she was already on a "different " path...

three nights in a hostel... left to a ****** couple...
i was only "scouted" when talking to some Slovak...
i got drunk and my English veneer drooped...
**** me... i had a wild night in Cracow
a day after...
i was fending myself from this waggling tongue
taxi driver who caught me
squeezing at my "major-phlegm" residue tool
trying to find an alley-way...
scary story... teenage girls not invited...

but i was in a hostel with this couple from Warsaw...
best name for a capital anywhere...
compare War-Saw with Bang-****...
ha ha... so she was this tall girl...
pristine like a ballerina...
played netball or whatever the hell tall girls play...
we were roaming Edinburgh and we
came across a charity shin-dig
and i exclaimed: oh.. what a nice acoustic (guitar)...
immediately... she retorted:
i hope you return to Warsaw and find
a nice girl for yourself...
i.e.                      not her?!

what a hyper-democratic reality we're all living in
right now...
   i'm not going to see her again...
i can see her like i can see my great-grandad...
a shadow... a figment of my imgation: almost...
"almost" being the fact that she recommended
this song for me: feeding me this idiotic self-worth-sence
delusion of comparative "literarture":
i'm John Peel...
  but my speciality is outside the realm of
the English speaking world...

wasn't today spectacular?
   it sort of began... "it sort of": began with me cringing
at an accident waiting to happen...
some white-van man was exiting a Tesco carpark...
too high... too high... jeeze!
sraped his ladder clean: proof off of this roof...
helped him out... became a 5 minute part-time
traffic warden... he ease back...
i picked up the pieces... you alright mate?
we had it sorted...

then on a whim... roughly... from Havering Road
to Edgware Road?
****... if i was going to cycle down Oxford St...
i would be cycling with a copy of Ovid to read in Hyde
Park.... instead? i cycled via Central London...
Chancery Lane: just before Holborn... and *******
Holborn Circus...
**** me... London looks weird without a tube-map...
it's 4-D geography...

if Donald Trump was playing 4D chess...
then i'm orientating myself around 4D geography...
on a bicycle... having formerly used
the buses and trains and the tube of London...
to hell with that load of trans-Atlantic *******...
sure sure...
you say one more ******* thing
along the lines of SLAV(e)... say it...
say it's "etymologically" sound...
say it... now that you have? ****** ****** ****** ******...
not the same?!
you have a problem? i don't have a problem...
i can tell the difference between a Somalian
a Nigerian and a Kenyan?
we're? having? spelling? issues?

English "public intellectuals"; them!
you add that ******* epsilon to the word Slav-
and? i'll just cut off the suffix -an
from the word GERMAN...
           ******* filth! GERMS!
    **** or ****** is not an isolated
instance... but then again: i trust the Russian
to use their bayonets more than i trust them
to use their tongues...
and that's wrong... since... they could readily
people the shadow-people of the shadows
of people...

    i've been ******* for quiet some time....
i'm ready to pounce... bite at something pulsating...
i ask the song i'm listening to on repeat:
what's my problem?
i can't say ******...
but some English ******* can add
an E to my ethnicity and equate me
to SLAVE... what etymological guarantee
does he: GERM...have?
                            i'm currently in the process
of eradicating a rat from my house...
GERMANIC PEOPLES ARE VERMIN...
THEIR WOMEN ARE EASY TARGET ****...
what?!

the "situation" is a lot different from what
it was under the deconstruction of the Soviet Empire...
now all i see... the deconstruction of
the Capitalistic hegemony...
hell... i bet that even Vietnam is on board!

Slav(e)?! NIGGERNIGGERNIGGERNIGGER...
what he **** are you going to, do?!
sure... you're not a racist..
you're just an etnicist! ETHNICIST!
inter-racial biases: Russophobia:
all Russians are "bad": when they say they are...
you...

   sie fickin rattekeimemesch.....

'__'
'
'     ''      Li - i.e. fire... as a trigram
'
__'       ******* toaf-face "smile":
to suggest "fire"...

i completely abhor leaving poems began one evening
and not finished:
squatting thoughts enter this abandoned housed...
and i can't strain my desire to keep
with the concept of Ensо̄:
                                                  エンソー

a poem completed in one sitting: i'm not a novelist:
i'm a "poet"... i don't have the luxury to retain
days and days on a composition:
what i start i must finish... i can't allow myself
this luxury of a novelist...
hit the iron while its hot comes to mind...

mind you: what's the difference between a proverb
and a maxim?
    i think that... maxims are conjured up whims...
half-truths... statements without justifications
or if they are grounded in any justifications:
they are for French ballrooms
for Confucian strict MING obligations...

                        maxims are untested truths...
maxims are: to say the least: not proverbs in that
they are hardly mystifying...
like this Slavic proverb:
   better a sparrow in your hand than a dove
upon your roof...
      oh: i know what that means...
better your own happiness than the happiness
of your household: and not out of selfish reasons?
if you are content... the contenteness can seep out
of you... and into the household...
why? you have a ******* sparrow in your hand...
who cares about a dove on your roof?

problem... i forgot what i was writing about yesterday...
i made notes:

- Mashiter's Hill
- King Rat
- щ "vs.": -ść                       me?!
invent a letter?! ha?!


well... i was so close so close to finishing...
Godsmack is touring... i think i'm going to try to get a ticket
for one of their gigs...
they're currently my favourite rock band...

Mashiter's Hill... oh... this little hill with a park...
i can walk up it and i usually drink a beer on
one of the benches... from it...
i have a pristine panorama of London...
   me? i'm at the utmost north-eastern tip of Greater
London...
                  it's London and it's "London"...
anything outside of the A406 is hardly anything beside
the Home Counties...
i wish other English people would cut the Essex
folk some slack... esp. the women...
     to me they're nuns...
or... as i recently found out... i'm unapproachable by
women... unless they're really drunk...
i'm just recounting what i hear:
a ******* will tell me i'm beautiful
a drunken woman in her 40s will tell me i'm ****...
do i make any moves on that?
    hardly... i like su doku puzzles: not headaches
caused by women...

but only yesterday i did a 50+ mile journey there
and back to Edgware Road to... hmm...
drink a Thai beer...
                    there's no point having a cycling session
less than the length of a marathon...
i stopped off at Chadwell Heath and bought myself
some fish sticks (45% Surimi - Alaskan *******,
   Hake and some crab) - of the 16 in the packet
i gulped down 14... it's such a bad idea
to cycle that sort of distance without having eating
anything... toward Edgware Road i was cycling
in a trance... literally i was honing in on an abstract
black hole as an ink blotch just ahead of me...
   but coming back? the low sugar levels kicked in...
i lost concentration... ah... i'm burning fat resources...

well... i tried cycling drunk once... Francis Bacon
painting-esque sort of bruising... never again...
but that didn't stop me from cycling...
in heavy traffic...
    on top of Mashiter's Hill i admired the distance
i covered... oh look... cycled past the Docklands
and Canary Wharf... went past the Shard...
all the way up to Hyde Park...
tomorrow i'm going to repeat the journey...
maybe i'll get a chance to meet up with Dan
and he might sneak me in to watch some Pearl Jam...
i was sent a text today about a possible shift...

**** me... hierarchies... SIA licensing...
no stewards welcome...
              fair enough, no problem read my reply...
i'd love to see that band... but i'll cycle there anyway
and maybe get a whiff of the music...

king rat? yeah... that one...
    i'm currently working on getting rid of a rat in my kitchen...
had to removed all the foods from the cupcoards
near to the ground...
  smart *** *******... or fatherfucker...
either Oedipus or Electra... either way...
i have smart cats...
but i never thought i'd have a smart rat...
falling asleep feels sort of weird...
    it's not like having a parasite in your body...
i have a rodent in my house...
   the party starts circa 12am... it starts moving...
i tried cheddar in mouse traps...
i.e. why do i think this rat is smart?
         well... em...
                (s)he doesn't simply eat the cheese
and doesn't get caught...
   (s)he ***** off with the mousetraps!
             i had to buy / replace the mousetraps
with rat traps... basically guillotine equivalent machinery...
if that "thing" snapped at my fingers
i think i'd be left with a broken finger, or two...
but what sort of rat takes the cheese
and the mousetrap with it into the darkness
of his hiding Eden?!

            i'm reluctant to use rat poison...
i'm sort of hoping for a Robespierre's clean cut...
snap... i don't want to **** the poor ******
by snapping its snout... i want to **** it
by crushing its neck... i don't want it bleeding from
its snout: to dead...
            sure... i'd love the Disney adventure
of Mickey... but if it only ate the food... but chewing
on cables... i have a ******* washing machine
and a dishwasher... it starts chewing on that:
i'm ******... smartest rat i've ever encountered:
courtesy of my Nigerian neighbour performing some
voodoo rituals at night leaving food
in the garden thinking he was feeding pigeons...
even one of my cats brought me two dead younglings
after catching them...
i know a rat is a rat and a mouse is a mouse...
mice are timid... rats? the i.q. shoots up...
****'s sake... it's not enough to take the cheese
and not get caught... it also has to take the trap
with him... what? knowing rats...

even if its tail was caught... it'd chew it off...
   it would mane itself in order to scuttle into shadow
and dust into a future...
two songs come to mind:
Pearl Jam vs. Ghost: RATS...
                  of course i prefer the former...
but a rat's a rat... and a washing machine is a washing
machine... i feel bad about killing it...
please don't let me use poison pebbles...
but?

   **** me... last point... right... the English point
about "too many vowels" in the ****** lingo?
sure... well... if the Serbs could incorporate the Latin J...
i think i can make a bypass...

what's rat in ******? szczur...
exactly... what instances allows me to...
first of replace the Z with H and use it in Ing-leash?
CHeap... ****... but not together...
the idiosyncrancy of the tongue that belongs
to itself...

but there's an alternative... borrowed from Cyrillic...
personally? i don't mind using it...
spares me "details"...
i know that Hebrew hides letters:
notably vowels... like diacritical marks...
i know certain languages hide letters...
this is perfect...

   щur = szczur...
                  less consonants for you?! happy?!
there are plenty of words that couple
the SH+CH / SZ+CZ dynamic...
щotka: brush...
          ah... i can do away with SZCZ via (щ)...
but there's a doubled conundrum...
with a word like:

sincerity: szczerość....
          see... i can do away with the "excesses" of Z)
щero

but even Russian Cyrillic doesn't have
a compounding... diphthong...
****... we're not talking about diphthongs... are we?
diphthongs require two vowels...
we're not talking about vowel "transgenderism"...
we're talking about 3 consonants merging...
so...
   it's not a diphthong... not that i care to look
for the SHCH curiosity... but i haven't found
a name for it...
   but we're talking about letters without diacritical
markers... well... "technically":
you could...

                         šč-        
                                     but that doesn't appear in Czech...
only in ****** and Russian...

                     šč- = щ
          
           yes... the prefix hyphen is necessary...

because that's exactly my point:

   dość!                   enough!

where: šč- = щ does exist?
                 -ść = ?          yeah... there's not Cyrillic equivalent...
i would have to invent a letter!
and i don't have the capacity to just conjure such
a letter up...

i've mentioned this before: it's annoying me...
the etymological crux of falsehood...
among the Anglo-Saxons...
that the etymological root of Slav is written
with a missing "e" via "slave"...
sacred words? niggerniggernigger...
hard to giggle?! the extra G too much?!
i'm offended, too...
           let me relay this message to the Russians...
they might rough up some UPA Ukranians...
no matter... better warring among "ourselves"
than having foreign influencces...
Communism was only born out of Pan-Slavism...
we tried... we failed: good to know we failed...
now the western world is playing the fools' bargaining
chips... i'm just looking on and thinking:
it's just a matter of time... before there will come
a canyon, a crater from what would otherwise
dispel the dinosaur's and leave us with
nothing but crocodiles and serpents...

i'm looking for ingenuity in creating a letter...
akin to

šč- = щ
                                                                ­ -ść = ?          
                     i want
more wounds to lick... or rather:
i want a single mum's dog to lick m knuckles...
i want to listen to more Godsmack: pretend angry...
i want anger: i want furore:
i want energy... i want sweets...
i don't really think i need that much fibre...
that much fat... that many high-tier carbohydrates
to take more time to break down:
i think i need to look for a different brothel...

all the Chinese ideas... but written without ideograms...
without ******* traffic colours...
why is it green and not blue to imply: GO!
blue? water?!
           then again... makes sense...
"sense"... i feel autistic by now...
mix blue with yellow... what do you get? green?
two-birds with one stone motto...
              
i can't just create a letter... on the spot...
it will take years to counter the Cyrillic prefix
with a Pollack suffix...
   like my inability to paint the fence...
i just can't do it...
              i'm painting a fence... i'm not painting
a worth of canvas...
i can't: i'll blame it one the roses...
but the roses are not the problem...
the painting itself is the problem...
                    
       all the Chinese ideas...
but... without the ideograms...
written in Katakana... or best.. in Hanguel...
without the ideograms...
"emoticons"...
            death is not a respiting fellow;
death is a harrower of an inevitable harvest.

i just wrote a corruption of what i should
have believe in with
a contending contentment.
Jamie Townend Jan 2010
For six years,
since I was eighteen,
I have been carrying a white rat
inside my left breast pocket
in a long grey coat.
I have paid attention to no one,
just that rat.

When I ******
two **** victims
who thought they loved me
in two nights,
the rat was there.

The rat was there
when I told them
to ignore the guilt
and remember that
no one needs to know.

The rat was there,
stronger than ever
when I got drunk
and ****** her
in the back of her partner's car
right on the seat where her child
usually sits
whilst someone loved me
from an empty bed.

The rat was there
when I got drunk
and threw him over a table,
and when I threatened to **** myself
if she did this
or she did that.

My rat is currently looking
at a place in the record books
as the longest living rat to date,
and he has survived
in a coat pocket
nibbling at bits of me
when I give him the chance.

No one knows he is there,
they just think it's me.

I tried to show someone once,
but he wasn't there
and we fell in love
for three years,
but the rat
came back
and now I sit
staring at these walls
or pacing frantically,
whilst the rat continues
nibbling away
at the last few remaining
morcels
of
my
heart.
Geno Cattouse Oct 2013
R.I.P. tatoo  Just below the right knee
one more down in the concrete jungle.

chalk line washed fading in the night wind.
Yellow tape flutters in the breeze.like break away kites
caught up  in the trees.

Rat a tat tat. brings rat a tat tat.
Young mother wailing on buckled knees.

Firing line drawn in blues and reds
claiming turf with a bandanna head.

Rat a tat tat brings rat a  tat tat.
Head stones  lined up. waiting for the dead

R.I P. in faded ink. Live by the sword
hey what did you think.
Rat a tat tat bring rat a pay back.

Cactus flower sprouts around thorns
Beauty nestled in blood red sun.
Live by the gun and die by the gun

Rat a tat tat. Brings rat a tat tat.
right down to the ground. the ground. The dust.
a conversation with a mother of three. widowed by Bang violence
inspired this one.
A blue cat with a blue hat,
named Pattrick, or Pat,
Comes closer to a white rat,
on his back, gives a pat,
And asks, "Oh, Mr Rat!,
"I am Mr Pat, the cat,
Write your name on my hat,"
Rat, scared and fat,
Knows can't run a bat,
Says, " 'I am the father of Pat",
Blue Pat, now a red cat,
Thunders," What you say, rat?"
Rat says, "My daughter is Pat,
Patricia is a white furry rat",
Squeaking in front of cat,
"Tell me your name, stupid rat",
Says now a di-coloured Pat,
Rat says, "I am Pat, the rat,"
"No! I am Pat, the cat,"
"Yes, and I am Pat the rat",
"Stop messing, you stupid Pat,"
"Yes, Pat is stupid and fat,"
Now, Pat had a smoking hat,
Pat hurls so hard to small Pat,
Pat jumps side to his hole of rat,
From inside, comes shout of Pat,
"Hey, Pat the cat, I am Pat the rat",
"And Pat the cat, is stupid and Fat,"
Pat the cat, removes his blue hat,
A pile of its pieces, on them he sat,
Sits there Pat, till comes out Pat.
This a poem written for fun and lighten the mood.
Sarah Gammon Nov 2014
I'm trapped.
Trapped like a rat.
And he is the house cat.
We live in New York,
which is to say,
we live in chaos.
We like to dream big,
but we don't follow through.
Afterall, a cat will attack a rat because it's a rat.
The way of our world.
A beautiful hurricane of a vicious cycle.
When it rains,
it pours.
You and I are a perfect example of no pain, no gain
but the gain is really so miniscule that this game,
Mr. Cat,
seems like there is truly no glory in winning.
A rat can try to run from a cat, and very few escape.
If I could evade the cat and leave New York...
I have the time to contemplate...
Could there be a better existence in which I am a) not being chased, attacked, or trapped by a cat, and b) free of the noise and chaos of New York?
I have been in this corner for awhile now.
His patience is everlasting.
He guards the safest escape route.
Cat's are smart.
There is, however, a crack in the wall.
But it would be a tremendous fall.
A chance, perhaps, this rat could scale the brick wall of the apartment building,
down 10 floors to the alley and scurry scurry scurry far far far away.
Wait.
He is...retreating?
Is this a trick?
No, it seems I've bored this tired, old house cat!
This is my chance to leave, lickety-split
out through the hole behind the welcome mat,
that rests against the south wall.
I peak my head out of the crevice -
there seems to be no cat.
I run. Scurry scurry scurry.
Hurry hurry hurry.
Too late. It was a smarter trap.
Retreat! Retreat!
His teeth sink into my hind leg.
I squeak, I thrash. I poke him in the eyes with my sharp nails.
He releases me and I hobble scurry to the crack.
The cat is attacking the wall.
Furious.
Next time, he won't allow me to fight back.
There is no point in staying here, afterall.
I will take my chances on the wall.
Out the hole, brick edge by brick edge I cling and claw my way down.
....
I made it.
...this is a free rat.
There is no cat.
There is still noise, anger, people everywhere;
shouting.
This is not where this rat wants to be, either.
Out of New York.
That's what is desired.
The cat has left me with wounds,
and memories of torture.
I will go, and heal, over many of moons,
and find peace in my future.
Run and run and free free free.
So it wants, so it has done, so it will be.
I wanted to use symbolism. I don't know how well I did.
Aerinlia Nov 2017
A sneaky rat and a little gecko
Both lived in a family house
The little gecko always greeted the family
The sneaky rat always stole their food

The family loved the little gecko
Because it was cute and kind
The family hated the sneaky rat
Because it kept creating a mess

They set a trap for the rat
Hoping that they could get rid of it
But the sneaky rat was clever
And told the gecko to get the food from the trap

The little, innocent gecko stepped on the trap
And the sneaky rat ran away
Even the family couldn't help the little gecko
Now it is trapped there forever.
Terry Collett Sep 2013
There were raised voices. Ingrid heard them. Her father's booming voice over her mother's screech. She stirred in her small bed. Pulled the blankets over her shoulder. Sheltered by the thick ex army coat of her father's on top of the blankets she snuggled down trying to shut out the sounds. It was Saturday, no school. She hated school, hated the tormenting kids, the lessons, the teacher bellowing at her. Only Benedict talked kindly to her, only he made her laugh, took her on adventures round and about, the bomb sites, the cinema, the swimming pool in Bedlam Park. The voices got louder, there was a sound of glass smashing. Silence followed, her mother's screeching began again, her father's booming voices trying to drown her out. Ingrid pulled the blankets tighter around her. She daren't go out along the passage until it was over. Even though she needed to ***, she held it in, thought of other things. Her wire framed glasses lay on the bedside cabinet her mother had bought at a junk shop. The thick lens were smeary, the wire frame slightly bent where her father's hand had clipped them when he slapped her about the head for talking out of turn. There was a small cut on her nose where the glasses had caught. A radio began to play, the voices had stopped. A door slammed. Her father had gone out. She poked her head out of the blankets. Music filtered through into her room from the radio. She got out of bed and stood on the wooden floor boards. Her clothes: dress, cardigan, underwear and socks were laid neatly on a chair where she'd folded them the night before. She opened the door of her bedroom and ventured down the passage to the toilet and shut the door and put the bolt across and sat down. The music played on. Her mother began to sing. She had weak voice, kind of like a child's. Ingrid played with her fingers. Pretended to knit, as her mother had unsuccessfully tried to show her, with imagined knitting needles. As she sat she felt the bruise on her left buttock. Her father's beating of a day or so ago. She knitted faster, fingers racing. She stopped dropped a stitch as her mother called it. She left the toilet and went to wash in the kitchen sink. She wished they had a bathroom like her cousin did. Her parent's bath was in the kitchen with a table that was let down when not in use. She washed in the cold water, her hands and face and neck. Dried on the towel behind the door. Her mother came in carrying a cup and saucer. She set it down on the draining board and looked at Ingrid. Get yourself some breakfast and then get dressed, if your father catches you in that state, he won't half have a go, her mother said. Ingrid went into the living room and got a bowl from the glass fronted cupboard and a spoon from the drawer and poured herself some cereals and added milk from a jug on the table and sat to eat. Her mother brought in a mug of tea for her and put it on the table and went off to the bedroom to make the bed. The music from the radio played on from the living room window she could see the streets below, the grass area beneath with the two bomb shelters left over from the War where she and other sat or climbed or played around. Over the street was the coal wharf where coal lorries and horse drawn wagons loaded up with sacks of coal. She ate her cereals. A train went across the railway bridge over the way;puffs of smoke rose in the air. Below boys played on the grass. One of the boys had offered her 6d to see her underwear, but she had refused. He shrugged his shoulders and said your loss and wandered off. 6d would have bought her sweets, a drink of pop, but she had her pride. She finished her breakfast and sipped her tea. Warm and sweet. She let her tongue swim in the tea. Benedict said he would buy her some chips after the morning film matinée at the cinema. Her mother said she would give her 9d for the cinema, but not to tell her father. As if she would, she mused, watching a horse drawn wagon leave the coal wharf. She drank the tea and took mug, spoon and bowl into the kitchen  and washed them up and left them on the draining board. She went to her bedroom and took off her nightdress. The mirror on the old dressing table showed a thin pale looking nine year old girl with short cut brown hair and squinting brown eyes. She only saw a blur. She put on her glasses and peered at herself. No wonder the boys laughed at her and the girls avoided her. Only Benedict was friendly to her. He said she was pretty. She couldn't see it, the prettiness. She turned. Over her thin shoulder she saw the bruises on her buttocks. Fading. Bluey greeny yellowish. She walked to get her clothes off the chair and began to dress. She wished she had a cleaner dress, she'd worn that one for nearly a week. The cardigan had holes and there were buttons missing. She did up what buttons there were and brushed her hair with the hairbrush her gran had given her. It had stiff bristles and a large wooden handle. She stood in front of the mirror and peered at herself. She put the 9d her mother had given her in her pocket. Ready or not Benedict would be there soon. He knocked his own special knock. Once her father answered and glared at Benedict and asked what he wanted. Benedict said, to see the prettiest girl in the world. Her father glared harder, Benedict simply smiled. How did he do that? How did he do that to her father? There was a tensive wait, her father glaring and Benedict looking passive. Then her father called her to the door and said, this here boy asked for the prettiest girl in the world; he must have got the wrong address. Ingrid went red and looked at Benedict. No, right address and girl, Benedict said,looking by her father's brawny arm at her. How she managed not to wet herself she didn't know. Her father just walked back indoors and left them to talk on the balcony without any more words and she never got a beating afterwards, either. Now she waited for that special knock. That rat-rat and rat-rat. She smiled at her reflection. Prettiest girl. Ugliest more like. Rat-rat and rat-rat. He was there. He'd come. She could hear his voice. She took one last look at herself in the mirror, wet fingered she dabbed at her hair. Time to go, time to get out of there. Her knight in jeans and jumper had come on a white horse to take her away; imaginary of course.
Some may term this as a short story, others may term it as a prose poem.
Sue Dunhym May 2011
How treacherous.
How boring.
It was a time between three and four.
A time between eleven and one.
The pre-emptive witching hour.
The incidental grey area.

My mind was a-buzz.
My thoughts were flashing.
I knew not what they were,
But I was morose and melancholic.

I could not work.
I could not sleep.
I could not think.
Chaos had become my order.
And infinity had become my moment.

Then, there ahead of me,  
Stood two women,
Straight and strong.
One was a Siren
The other, a Muse.

I thought hallucinations.
Perceived ideas through a ******* mind.
But alas, they were real.
I touched them and reacted.

Warned against their poison.
Their mercuric tongues.
Their stolen hearts.
Their arachidonic souls.
And their odd Tsavorite eyes.

They walked.
I followed.
Into a labyrinthine hive,
They sauntered.
Nonchalant angels,
Indifferent to my stalk.

In the centre, there lay
An abyss.
They sat on the edge
And beckoned me
Forth.
I accepted, curious, yet cautious.
And through the Song of the Siren,
And the Myth of the Muse,
The blackness beckoned.

I fell, I flew to my mind’s end.
Accepted my descent, unknowingly.
The air was still. The tunnel black.
And I landed softly.
Alone. Safe. Hungry.
So, I walked to the edge.
The Siren waited. Offered her tail
And walked.

Crawled into smoke, was a Rat.
The Siren pointed, then followed
The smoke.
Rat awoke, to run to my foot,
Up my leg and towards my shoulder.

Rat pointed too,
So I walked to the edge
To appear in water.
Glistening and moist
Stood the Muse,
With a smile on her lips.

Again her tail led me,
As Rat jumped to the Muse.
We glided in the water,
Blinded in the dark,
Until we reached a cave, having dodged the rocks.

Inside, I was left,
Save for Rat.
The Muse flew off, a smile on her lips.
Drowning, by my waist, was a rodent. Erinaceous and small.
I lifted it up and placed Hedgehog on the opposite shoulder.

Hedgehog thanked me,
And showed me the way.
A niche in the rock.
We entered, all the same.

On the other side was a bed.
There lied the Siren and the Muse.
Seductive and Bare.
I was pulled forth.
Their tails were strong.
Their tongues were mercury.
Their hearts were stolen.
Their souls were arachidonic.
Their eyes were Tsavorite.
I was poisoned all along.

In vapid lust,
Morose passion,
Melancholic ecstasy,
It ended.
They have left me
Only with Rat and Hedgehog.

Here I will die.
Led to be abused.
All that shall be known
Of my boring and treacherous
Witching hour
Is this story.
I dedicate it to
The Muse,
The Siren,
Who are but one girl.
And to Rat, Hedgehog and me
Who is but one *******.
copyright of TP Flusk
(It was an attempt at a narrative poem, please give conventions as well)
SEWER RAT

I know I seen a sewer rat going down stream,
Playing along while it sings;
Down by the sewer love is waiting for the rat
hear come a fat cat,
don’t you dear look back at that
or the rat will attic;
because she doesn’t want no other
looking at her lover;
She is a sewer rat that has long teeth
And her breath stinks
But she can get nasty and downright mean,
She does have a bad name
If you know what I’m saying,
She lives near a run-down town,
By the sewer where all the other ugly rats play
To get their way;
She makes traps upon that cat;
She stalkers every move he makes
just to see where he goes,
If he is out playing with other sewer wholes,
that she knows.
She licks and picks her long yellow teeth
While she plays with a long green bean
that was floating down stream,
she goes around telling her lie all over town
that her cat is playing with gay men
just to keep others cats and rate from him.
He old cat has a long story;
That can get kind of boring
That can get her snoring,
Then she thought to her self
maybe she should of stay floating down
the sewer to find more action
for a little more reaction
to the packen,
where she can do some lay backen
on some wet sacken
doing some unripen and tapen
that kept her old cat on his tootise
where he would do some casing
but she knows her old love wouldn’t car
so, she would dare;
she knows there’s a lot of rats down town
but there isn’t one like her own fat cat
that loves to play in the sewer doing
what they love best.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2015
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Judy Emery
A Rat
it was dawn about six o’clock the phone from the bridge of the ship rang,
time to get up. I had been sleeping on the couch put my feet on the floor
and between them a big rat escaped the door to my cabin was ajar it
got out. I said nothing no one had seen the rat no point making a fuzz.
I made breakfast for the crew. The chief engineer was a bit late I walked
up to his cabin, to call him, in his bedroom fast asleep the rat snuggled
by his face, by the sound of my voice the rat quickly disappeared and
when the chief was fully awake it had gone.  I did notice when he was eating
there were rat hairs on his unshaven face, he complained of an odd smell.
I said nothing had a schedule and lunch to prepare.
Thinking about it now I might have been wrong, I sometimes have problems
sorting out dreams and truth when telling a story
Aubrey Valdez Feb 2016
There once was a rat, a gym rat that is
When it came to fitness he was a wiz.

Powder and chicken was all he consumed.
All of the other foods were surely doomed.

Ripping, rushing, running around the town.
He liked to pick things up and put them down.

From his traps to calves, his muscles were ripped.
Pushing and pulling, the scales he would tip.

His veins did pop like pink birthday balloons.
His buns resembled big-***** baboons.  

Many beads of sweat would drip down his face.
Gallons of water he’d drink case by case.

Visions of protein shakes danced through his head.
Others that trained with him soon would be dead.

The rat would pump iron day after day.
But, out of the gym his life was astray.

White tank tops, jean shorts, and sneaks he would wear.
In hopes that all the fit ladies would stare.

Alas poor gym rat could not catch a mate.
Perhaps, a brain workout would score him a date.
Blank Feb 2019
It’s a familiar sight, that is my ceiling,
When I wake in the night with a familiar feeling;
A sense of worry and a cloud of dread,
From the rat in my mind, scratching my head.

I do my best to ignore or pretend,
But sadly for me this rat’s my best friend,
He warns of a busy brain, with bad times ahead,
Caused by words unspoken and things unsaid.

He nags at joy, and cherishes sorrow-
And makes you fear the start of tomorrow.
The rat never lacks devotion,
And can turn drops of doubt into an ocean.

I hope you don’t know the scratch and the chew,
Of drifting through life, not knowing what to do-
With that gnawing rat that keeps persisting,
That you’re not living your life, but just existing.

I wish this rat wasn’t so well fed,
Cos when I see my friends he’s there in my stead.
They think that I’m angry, grumpy and mean;
But I wish they knew that I’m not what I seem.

It’s gone on so long that I’m starting to think;
That he’ll never stop and he’ll never blink.
I feel it always, in my skull where he’s sat;
The doubts in my mind, in the shape of a rat.
SEWER RAT

I know I seen a sewer rat going down stream,
Playing along while it sings;
Down by the sewer love is waiting for the rat
hear come a fat cat,
don’t you dear look back at that
or the rat will attic;
because she doesn’t want no other
looking at her lover;
She is a sewer rat that has long teeth
And her breath stinks
But she can get nasty and downright mean,
She does have a bad name
If you know what I’m saying,
She lives near a run-down town,
By the sewer where all the other ugly rats play
To get their way;
She makes traps upon that cat;
She stalkers every move he makes
just to see where he goes,
If he is out playing with other sewer wholes,
that she knows.
She licks and picks her long yellow teeth
While she plays with a long green bean
that was floating down stream,
she goes around telling her lie all over town
that her cat is playing with gay men
just to keep others cats and rate from him.
He old cat has a long story;
That can get kind of boring
That can get her snoring,
Then she thought to her self
maybe she should of stay floating down
the sewer to find more action
for a little more reaction
to the packen,
where she can do some lay backen
on some wet sacken
doing some ripen and tapen
that kept her old cat on his tootise
where he would do some casing
but she knows her old love wouldn’t car
so, she would dare;
she knows there’s a lot of rats down town
but there isn’t one like her own fat cat
that loves to play in the sewer doing
what they love best.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2015
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
The Queen of Darken Dreams
Am I the Rat poet

From an ossuary of ages

Whose words scurry

Along blind tunnels

Am I the Rat poet

Locked in counterfeit cages

Whose letters wander in deficit

With a majestic malevolence

Am I the Rat poet

Exposing counterfeit confessions

Of plagued and decaying text

Who hears the sounds of burning books

Am I the Rat poet

Who writes what you despise

Yes, Yes, Yes

I am the Rat Poet

Can't you tell by my listening eyes
there was a little rat a rally rat was he
and a rally driver he just long to be
he bought himself a car of the very best
ready for a race to put it to the test
he wore his rally suit and his helmet to
with his favorite colors yellow red and blue
now the rat was ready now the race was on
rat he out his foot down like a bullet he was gone
racing through the mountains and through the country side
having lots of fun when the car began to slide
driving through the mud fully in control
he was very skillful such a clever soul
heading for the finish the little rat he won
he enjoyed his day and his rally fun
Fable IX, Livre V.


Fier de sa charge magnifique,
Fier de porter, je ne sais où,
Pour je ne sais qui, l'or du Chili, du Pérou,
Et du Potose et du Mexique,
Un gros vaisseau marchand revenait d'Amérique.
Le joyeux équipage était des plus complets :
Passagers, matelots, soldats, maîtres, valets,
Favoris de Plutus, de Mars ou de Neptune,
L'emplissaient, l'encombraient de la cave au grenier
Ou du fond de cale à la hune,
Pour parler en vrai marinier.
De Noé l'arche était moins pleine.
Un rat cependant grimpe à bord,
Et, sans montrer de passe-port,
Sans saluer le capitaine,
S'établit parmi les agrès.
Un pareil commensal ne vit pas à ses frais.
Aussi s'aperçoit-on, tant au lard qu'au fromage,
Grignotés, écornés par l'animal rongeur,
Qu'on nourrissait un voyageur,
Qui n'avait pas payé passage.
Le conseil de guerre entendu,
Vu l'urgence, un décret rendu
Hors la loi met la pauvre bête.
En maint lieu maint piège est tendu,
Et des mâts maint chat descendu
De maint côté se met en quête ;
Le proscrit, qui d'un coin oyait et voyait tout,
Et tremblait un peu pour sa tête,
Dès que le conseil se dissout,
Au patron, d'un peu ****, présente sa requête.
« Pitié, pardon, grâce, seigneur !
« Je renonce à la friandise.
« Foi de rat, foi d'homme d'honneur,
« Je vous paierai le tort qu'a fait ma gourmandise.
« Seigneur, qu'on me débarque au port le plus voisin,
« J'y trouverai quelque cousin,
« Ou rat de cave ou rat d'église,
« Mais gens à vous payer tout prêts.
« Le continent doit être près.
« Que ce soit Angleterre, ou Chine, ou France, ou Perse,
« J'ai partout là des intérêts
« Ou de famille ou de commerce ;
« J'ai partout là crédit. - Ni crédit, ni pardons
« Pour les escroqueurs de lardons,
Dit en jurant l'homme à moustache.
« Force à la loi : Raton ! Minet ! » Le rat se cache.
Gascon, fils de Normand, il savait plus d'un tour.
Mais à quoi bon ? La nuit, le jour,
Cerné, guetté, chassé, harcelé sans relâche,
Il ne mange, boit, ni ne dort.
Peut-il échapper à son sort ?
Partout on a mis des ratières,
Partout on a fait des chatières,
Partout la peur, partout la mort !
Elle est préférable à la vie,
De terreurs ainsi poursuivie !
Mourons donc, mais en homme, et vengeons-nous d'abord.
Il dit, et de ses dents, meilleures que les nôtres,
Usant, limant, rongeant, perçant en maint endroit
La nef qui sur le Styx s'en va voguer tout droit,
Dans l'abîme qu'il s'ouvre il entraîne les autres.
Je tiens même d'un souriceau,
Qu'heureux plus que Samson au jour de sa revanche,
À la ruine du vaisseau
Il échappa sur une planche.

En préceptes, lecteur ami,
Ce petit apologue abonde.
Si je l'en crois, en ce bas monde
Il n'est pas de faible ennemi.
De plus, le sage en peut induire,
Et l'homme puissant doit y voir
Qu'il est dangereux de réduire
Le petit même au désespoir.
Michael May 2018
I believe in a number of things
Horses, gators, even mammals with wings
I believe that a bird and a rat, got cozy one night
and that became that
that as in bat
a bat became that
from the bed of a bird and a rat.
the bird saw the rat being chased by the cat
that they had in common, the cat was a brat
So they chatted and chatted, till the chat became flat
I haven't a bed, but I do have this mat, said the rat.
This mat will do, the bird said as she sat.
soon that became that
that as in a bat
a bat became that
from the bed of a bird and a rat.
I'm tired
Test Ting Won To Tree
By
Charles Fleischer







Rifleman decal water is to Tiny basket liners as Strained yo-yo string is to?
Dark wool glowing is to Oldest lost oddity as First genetic engine is to?
Black quail taint is to Nut curdled paint as Hemp biscuit dominoes are to?
Steam traced paper is to Lemon ash vapor as Digital ****** wig is to?
Eccentric brine mimes are to Electric silk slacks as Spark formed lava is to?
Sunchoked black hornets are to as Rescued orphan doves as Retold cat jokes are to?
Hand traced videos are to Braided rubber spines as Opal rain dancers are to?
Halogen anchor gong is to Annoying bread portraits as Soft bracelet lockers are to?
Old troll bios are to Select cherub echoes as Broken matchstick parasols are to?
Dome nine chariots are to Frayed lunar remnants as Fuming honey flasks are to?
Bluing assault operas is to Beading fluted flowers as Magnetic lawn tweezers are to?
Converted flea sponges are to Floating dog murals as Frozen Archie comics are to?
Molded road pads are to Crusty gumdrop thread as Straw ribbed pelicans are to?
Inflatable diamond vowel is to Single gender raffle as Groovy desert coffee is to?
Temporary solution radiation is to Idiotic witness mumble as Motorized marshmallow kit is to?
Panoramic utopian paranoia is to Aggravated **** silhouettes as Unhinged gun sellers are to?
Homesick ghost pajamas is to Virtuous fly fungus as Royal sandpaper gloves are to?
Gangster hayride tickets are to Deer milk Oreos as Turnip fairy maps are to?
Glue gun **** is to Nocturnal cabin mice as Cab fare corn is to?
Speckled fish nickels are to Under water bric-a-brac as Epic snakeskin paisley is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Raunchy snail kimono is to Coiled time dice as Smeared equator malt is to?
Metallic centaur franchise is to Transparent cheese chess as Spotted glacial remnants is to?
Sky fused pong is to Rustic mothers brattle as Granulated canister ointment is to?
Overgrown maze mule is to Mated smugglers hugging as Floating thesaurus exam is to?
Sliding coed sprinkler is to Soapy whitefish rebate as Precious lamb diaper is to?
Mushy acorn luster is to Lilac protein rings as Slapstick wrestler dialect is to?
Freaky plankton bells is to Rolling horse divorce as Morphing morphine lips are to?
Sticky razor sparkle is to Emerald muscle spasm as Glaring cat cipher is to?
Peppy unisex mustache is to Pelican fighter syndrome as Clumping night grumble is to?
Scanning paired pearls are to Ruby rubbed roaches as Satanic sailor flotsam  are to?
Glowing asteroid solder is to Ideal shark data as Failed frail doilies are to?
Numb nuts boredom is to Fantastic icy phantoms as Sporadic silk creations is to?
Crooks crow chow is to Loading spackled bonder as Gargled snowdrop blasters are to?
Outdid myself today is to Outside myself again as Outlived myself controls is to?
Venting shuttlecock upset is to Texting badminton kitten as Settler tested motels are to?
Prepare paired vents is to Prefer paid events as Pretender predicts fiction is to
Crunchy mental fender is to Catching mentor menace as Poorly seasoned lettuce is to?
Outside sidewalk inside is to Seaside outcast input as Sideways landslide victory is to?  
Compile fake password is to Compost world poo as Compose village anthem is to?
Crooked crotch blunder is to Loud crowd thunder as Divine vine finder is to?
Chucks’ wooden truck is to Bucks good luck as Sticky ducks tucked is to?  
Overhaul underway overseas is to Overturned downsized pickup as Underground onramp overloaded is to?
I’ll bite there is to Aisle byte their as Isle bight there is to?
Gnat gnawed wrist is to ***** show beans as See through putty is to?
Flapping floppy guppies are to Buzzing zipped dozers as Muddy ****** strippers are to?
Dark diagonal dialogue is to Diabolical dihedral die as Interesting circadian exposition is to?
Experimental flossing expectations are to Waxed dental traps as Permanent impermanence resolution is to?  
Outran ringside intrigue is to Sidetracked onboard boatload as Loaded firearm topside is to?
Phony ****** phone is to Chewy ego honey as Yogi Mama’s dada is to?
Nimble teardrop squiggle is to Humble cage curtains as Loyal truckstop morals are to?
Torching curled elastic is to Sonic neighbor clamor as Golden droplet integers are to?
Duplex pupil scanners are to Nacreous cloud clocks as Shrouded flute shops are to?
Lawn rocket tendrils are to Finding surreal borders as Sheep monarchs children is to?
Gloating ungloved squires are to Busting double doubters as Pushing woeful doctors are to?
Tricking snowbelt firedogs is to Panmixing blackened haywires as Unclothed shameful leaders are to?
Malicious ranch ritual is to Internal puppet bubble as Ornate underworld masquerade is to?
Rustic debonair Eskimos are to Mindless sassy elves as Gorgeous somber acrobats are to?
Learned earthy pimps are to Fearless sneaky Queens as Somber gentle vagrants are to?
Shocking horse wear is to Glossy sled fluid as Damaged chipmunk tongue is to?
Traditional agony chart is to Damp voodoo motel as Backwoods museum quote is to?
Magical cat cabin is to Dapper porpoise humor as Malicious graveyard foam is to?
Therapeutic gazelle cushion is to Stored alibi equipment as Stunning tempo light is to?
Fantastic rascal art is to Wasted prune dust as Jupiter’s ****** law is to?
Little nut razor is to Gigantic hyena shield as Hourglass pillow fever is to?
Coiled rain clouds are to Dizzy tycoon clowns as Lime eating cowards are to?
Possessive epicurean demonstrators are to Faded eavesdropping giants as Determined swanky drunks are to?
Aquatic preview pocket is to Soggy judicial topiary as Finicky hamster fabric is to?
Enlarged fruit cuff is to Obedient mumbling orchestra as Dark tenant tariff is to?
Recycled flash thermometer is to Botched temptation probe as Pet glider grid is to?
Seriously shy idols are to Costly driving perfumes as Ferryboat chapel wine is to?
Winged jalopy details are to Faithful spectral fathers as Sprinkled mint rainbows are to?
Spelling unneeded words is to Sprouting donut ***** as Blaming mellow mallrats are to?
Eroding loom keepsake is to Magnificent accordion canoe as ***** bongo fumes are to?
Souring violet ink is to Juvenile insult park as Periodic ferret envy is to?
Obedient boyfriend aroma is to Sanitized fat lozenges as Dramatic jailer garb is to?
Mysterious patrol group is to Dynamic maiden discharge as Captured hurricane ratio is to?
Lackadaisical bigot bingo is to Oblong care merchant as Expensive swamp shampoo is to?
Petite orifice worship is to Atomic barge pet as Plucked hair exhibit is to?
Elite officer wallop is to Automatic yard rake as Healing ****** glitter is to?
Needless swan costume is to Giant jungle goat as Organic picnic napkin is to?
Leaky jet steam is to Innovative fascist whistle as Enchanting idol evidence is to?
Plastic mascara seduction is to Greasy thermal ointment as Attractive muskrat crease is to?
Lucky camel pills are to White coral Torah as Eternal stage clutter is to?
Roasted oat **** is to Sloppy *** glue as Nylon table debt is to?
Steep nook catastrophe is to Empty dome damage as Pulsing breeze powder is to?
Empty sack power is to Hitched buck stroke as Red claw warning is to?
Ultra brief slogan is to Yummy lab mutant as Pathetic ball armor is to?
Nauseating fish splatter is to Obstinate ****** twitch as Strained ***** coffee is to?
Mezzanine intermission fossil is to Proven **** apathy as Golden duck shroud is to?
Civil tutors torment is to Thor’s posted theory as Yellow melon rain is to?
Immense olive raft is to Exploding kangaroo buffet as Ethereal witness index is to?  
Marching dark speeders are to Searing scribble fighters as **** tripping sinners are to?
Seeping viral angst is to Aged hermit tea as Murky bowl nibble is to?
Condensed blister guzzle is to Pink dorsal pie as Lavish speckled runt is to?
Needy insult poet is to Sedated acorn trader as Dry honey zoo is to?
Veiled trust flicker is to Deranged poser fashion as Flat sizzle tangent is to?
Purified diet spray is to Nebulous wishing target as Thrilling screen dope is to?
Majestic ribbon astronomy is to Bizarre formation sector as Rebel bell gimmick is to?
Sealed dart whisper is to Green silk draft as Cold vacuum varnish is to?
Clumsy raven power is to Insect island circus as Minted mink drapes are to?
Curved map ruler is to Tiny lethal radio as Blue fused metal is to?
Inverted laser invasion is to Damp sheep dump as Puffy gown smoke is to?
Saucy Channel blazer is to Leather goat filament as Starched locomotive hat is to?
Broken jumper leads are to Disgraced mini exorcists as Designer shamrock caulk is to?
Tweaked poachers smokes are to Assorted sulfur pathways as Collected bedlamp trickle is to?
******* bungalow pranks are to Drowsy vapid oafs as Quantized cavern fish are to?
Crawling battle worms are to Vibrating metal pedals as Mentholated matrix wax is to?
Missing meshed rafts are to Liquid rock pipes as Crinkled bean bikinis are to?
Tithing **** joggers are to Perforated buck fronds as Leather zither picks are to?
Fearing truthful cowards is to Rambling preachers mumble as Gazebo ambulance gasoline is to?
Shelving elder’s whiskers is to Poaching goalies pesto as Radical tricycle angst is to?
Mucky gunboat polymer is to Primeval maypole flameout as Cathedral greenhouse intercom is to?
Diaphanous safety prize is to Unleashed saucer lion as Dorky blonde ropewalker is to?
Tapered spring meter is to Silver silo mythology as Misguided judges medallions are to?
Alligator x-ray money is to Cherry unicorn water as Coyote cactus toy is to?
Cowardly dorm scrooge is to Atomized pewter script as Flattened spore smoothies are to?
Trash can yodel is to Flashing wired spam as Exploding chocolate pudding is to?
Sonar blasted bushings are to Threading ruined wheels as Forty shifting boxes are to?
Tiny balloon rebellion is to Softened square cleanser as Iconic soul sucker is to?
Harmony night light is to Spanish nitrogen desire as Squirrel cavern iodine is to?

Lazy winter secret is to Slow airport widget as Silly mustard binder is to?
Elephants raising raisins are to Microscopic lamb planet as Purple hay puppets are to?
Caribou venom vaccine is to Electronic lemonade choir as Demonic princess massage is to?
Beet coated bridge is to Fattened needle point as Mylar monkey spine is to?
Ashy ink dust is to Youngest rabbi planet as Orange cartoon geometry is to?
Cold green chalk is to Cobalt ladder farce as ***** river filters are to?
Sublime sheep master is to Sleeping past rapture as Subliminal bliss jelly is to?
Ocean crust slippers are to Twigged germ radar as Popping sharpie scope is to?
Zen wrapped beep is to Oak foamed code as Wicked flashing sizzle is to?
Dew eyed sleigh is to Say I do as Act as me is to?
Humpback on hammock is to Ham hocking hummer as Hunchback with knapsack is to?
Corned flag jelly is to Draped wing chewers as Tripping swan acid is to?
Futuristic Rembrandt chant is to Almond likened meadows as Asian timber blue is to?
Nap in sack is to Flap on Jack as Ducks dig crack is to?
Flowing flavored lava is to Gleaming optic layers as Enhanced goose gibberish is to?      
Flag tied pajamas are to Saline checker choir as Speed reading quotas is to?
Whipped spam spasms are to Misted shaman scripture as Testing pitched bells is to?
Cave aged eggs are to Crowded tiger cages as ****** wagon pegs are to?
Pigeon towed car is to a Man toad art as Wolf whisker wish is to?
Second hand clothes are to Minute hand gestures as Final hour prayer is to?
Slick wicked shavers are to Tricky watch boxes as Sprouting pine tattoos are to?
Waxed stick ravens are to Match stick foxes as Narrowed thermal towers are to?
Ice cave rice is to Laced face lice as Gourmet pet **** is to?
Diamond lane anniversary is to Space age appropriate as Time travel agency is to?
Lime bark violin is to Lemon twig guitar as Lunar sky waffles are to?
Fake rat **** is to Smart cake batter as Rugged fur tax is to?
Tarred raft fluff is to Flaked rafter dust as Lined liquor flask is to?
Flakes will fall is to Take Bills call as Broken maze compass is to?
First faked voter is to Entombed cartoon honey as Smallest aching smurf is to?
Fancy bared ******* are to Flaky fairy treats as Kings amp filter is to?
Bone window folio is to Whittled fake pillow as Little fitted jackets are to?
Nine nuts brittle is to Ate pear pie as Six packed poppers are to?
Incandescent playground pencil is to Elastic hand worm as Perfumed piano ink is to?
Opal shifting anode is to a Windup lion decoy as Pale paisley trolley is to?
Stacked black boxes are to Old packed tracks as a Throwing micron hammers is to?
Apricot bark furnace is to Merry Orchid Choir as an Ivory rinsing funnel is to?  
Narcotic honey nuts are to Slick flag toffees as Silk fig sugar is to?
Orange coin raisins are to Low note candies as Smelling balled roses is to?
Pocket packed monotints are to Tragic ladder hayracks as Ravishing speed traders are to?
Crayon spider resin is to Coral squirrel forceps as Wolf tumbled loaf is to?  
Silver wheat flies are to Width shifting wheels as Golden blister blankets are to?
Really tiny hippopotamus is to Masked fat podiatrist as a Sad sack psychiatrist is to?
Miniature Mesopotamian monuments are to Apple minted elephants as Raising wise ravens is to?
Lathered nymph nacre is to Sonic ion constellations as Concealed iron craft is to?  
Epic gene toy is to Ladies bubble sled as Jagged data bowl is to?
Bugged dagger bag is to Pop sliced meld as Atom bending moonlight to?  
Rural madam’s deed is to Dyed dew dipper as Eight sprayed dukes are to?
Jiffy grand puffer is to Floating altar myth as Vintage dark mirth is to?
Undercover overnight underwear is to Overpaid undertaker overdosing as Overheard understudy freebasing is to?

Black grape crackle is to Red cactus ruffle as Installing padded pets are to?
Snide snobs sniffing are to Sneaky snails snoring as Snared snipes sneezing are to?
Exploring explosive exits is to Explaining expansive exports as Expecting expert exchange is to?
Shrewd logic ledger is to Puppets dropping cupcakes as Placated topaz octopi are to?
Door roof tools are to Cool wool boots as Wood cooked root is to?
Bright fight light is to Night flight fright as Mites bite site is to?
Floor flood fluid is to Wooden door Druid as Nasty **** broom is to?
Accurate police photography is to Intelligent microbe geography as Condensed aerosol biography is to?
Cowardly cowboy grime is to Corpulent corporate crime as Bosnian dwarf necromancer is to?
Jell-O clearing shaker is to Brillo cleaning shiner as Cheerios bowling shields are to?
Mumbled mindless hokey is to Fumbled found money as Humming kinder bunny is to?
Daisy’s clock setter is to Lilly’s boxer toxin as Poodles rose paddle is to?
Watch Bozo Copernicus is to Hire Clarabelle Newton as Find ***-wee Einstein is to?
Amethyst thistle whistles is to Lapis pistol whip as Diamond bomb scar is to?
Dandelion seahorse rescue is to Crabapple dogwood farm as Faux foxglove lover is to?    
Optical poppy stopper is to Polar halo lens as Day-Glo rainbow sticker is to?
Savanna leopard spotted is to Eskimo lassos kisses as Alligator lemonade standard is to?
Bill of Rights is to Will of left as Thrill of night is to?
Baptize floozies quickly is to Useless outsized nozzles as Puzzled wizard wanders is to?        
Chaps wearing chaps are to Chaps contesting contests as Consoling concealed consoles is to?
Quiet squirming squirrels are to Aeon beauty queens as Queasy greasy luaus is to?
Knew new gnu is to Sense scents cents as We’ll wheal wheel is to?
Blazing zingers ringing are to Wheezing singers flinging as Freezing finger number are to?
Lamb tomb jogger is to Dumb numb **** as Thumbed crumb bug is to?

Blue accordion casket is to Jaded scholar ***** as German mushroom circus is to?
President George Flintstone is to Funny Fred Washington as Abraham Jetson’s dog is to?
Google Desmond Tutu is to Kalamazoo Zoo Park as Zodiac actors Guru is to?
Swamp cradled whisperer is to Cherished drawbridge cello as Bludgeoned prankster outlaws are to?
Dukes pink mittens are to Smeared nest carava
at a round table a regal man sat
he of finest epicurean palate
neath his feet twas a lowly rat

no junk food twas on his plate
only the best in culinary serves
he of finest epicurean palate

the rat ate of a crumb's conserve
which twas more telling of his position
only the best in culinary serve

the king feasted on grand nutrition
he became more bloated of tummy
which twas more telling of his position

after he partook of all so yummy
the poor rat twas left in starvation
he became more bloated of tummy

for he'd have no repast of salvation
the poor rodent twas left in starvation
at a round table a regal man sat
neath his feet twas a lowly rat
THE RAT AND THE PREGNANT WOMAN


A story poem

BY

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)



Dedicated to;
My mother Neddy Nabisino Mayende Kuloba Makhakara
And her mother Maritini Nabengele Nasenya Mulemia Namugugu Ilungu wa Wenwa.
The story telling power of these two ladies is the primary source of my passion and love for humorous and peace bettling stories. I owe them all the recognitions.







OPENING SONG
How do I start telling this story that I got from my
Grandmothers when sited around the fire yard in the evening?
I don’t know how to start surely,
For to day I am very shy; all of your eyes
Are on me, looking at me like ocean of looking organs
But let me embolden my self with the belt
Of a story teller that my grand father gave me
And commanded me to preach peace
Through story telling in every place I go
So my spiritual service to humanity is telling stories
Is to soothe and heal wounds of humanity
By softly telling peaceful stories
Let me then cough to clear my voice and start;

Long time ago, but not very long time
Some where between the centuries of twelve hundred
And seventeen hundred after the death of the other Jewish
Story teller who died without a wife, who died on the cross
But others say he died on the stake, his name was Jesus,
There existed only two kingdoms in land which is known today
As Bukusu land found in the present east Africa or Indian Ocean coastal Africa,
The first occupants of this vast land is the sons and daughters of Babukusu
Or the ones who like selling ironsmith products
And hence the name the people of Bukusu; the people who sell,
The two kingdoms were the Kingdom of muntu and the kingdom of manani
The citizens in the kingdom of muntu were short men and short women
Handsome and beautiful, slender and not assertive in their physical disposition
But the citizens of the kingdom of manani were all cyclopic,
In their everything; the manner of walking, talking farting, micturating
Farming, breathing, snoring, smiling, singing, whispering
Their whisper was a noisy as the tropical thunderclap
They were tall men and tall women, very tall
Their young person was as short as the tallest
Person in the kingdom of muntu,
When one of the citizen of manani snores
All the citizens of Muntu along together with,
Their king Walumoli wa Muntu had no option
But remain awake throughout the night,
Because the cacophony of a snore from
The sleeping courts of Manani was not bearable,

On many occasions Walumoli wa Muntu
The conscientious king of the muntu kingdom
Had arranged to talk to Silinki wa Namunguba
The ostensible king of the Manani Kingdom
About the cacophonous sleep robbing
Snores of daughters and sons in neighbour kingdom of Manani
Only to cow and chicken away in a feat of prudence
Lest Silinki wa Namunguba will suspect him for being
A night runner or a thief of *** perhaps
Who roams his compound during the wee of the night
In hunt of any of Namunguba’s wife maybe
Perchance having gone out for a mid-night *******,
This is how legendary snores of the sons and daughters
Of Silinki wa Namunguba the king of Manani
Has remained unchecked for ever till today,

One time an ugly passer by happened to be seen
Traversing the kingdom of muntu
In the early afternoon some two
Hours after Walumoli the king
Had just cleared the last plate
Of the mid day meal from
His last wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
He always eats her food last in the afternoon
Because it comes on the table steaming youthfulness
He loves his Khatembete wife, the wife of his old age
The wife he married by use and show of the royal regalia
The powers and dignity of the king of muntu
He married her when he his a king, the scepter in his hand,

Going back to the ugly passer by
It was never known where he came from
Not from the east where the Indian Ocean is
Not from the west where the vastness of the land
Of black people of Baganda and Bacongo
Baigbo and Bayoruba or Bafulana of Nigeria
Or the sons of Madiokor Ngoni Diop in the Senegal,
Not from the south from shaka the Zulu and Mandella the wise one
Not from north in the land of Dinka and Nuer, Ethiopian Jewish and the Egyptians,
The passerby was ugly and from no where, in a dress and
A very ***** dress that fumed out a malodorously stenching reek
He was a man in attires of a woman; this was a taboo in the land of muntu
He was left handed and a heavy weight stammerer, with an appalling
Protuberation of   a hunched back, an enormous hunchback
Enmassing entired of his masculine shoulders,
When the wind blew his loose dress followed it
Leaving the man’s thighs and then bossom naked,
Leading bystanders to a strange discovery; he was not circumcised
He was old like any other father, he had beards
But not yet circumcised, his ***** ends in corkscrew of a sheath,
This was a taboo in the land of muntu, in the kingdom of muntu
Which Walumoli wa Muntu the son of Mukitang’a Mutukuika ruled
For the spirits, gods and ancestors as well as foremen of the kingdom
Behooved that all male offsprings of the kingdom of muntu
Whether born in marriage or out of the wedlock
Born the blood or born as a ******* must and must be
Circumcised in the early teen hood
They must be circumcised before they grow the hairs
On the face, on the chest, in the scapula and on the areas
Surrounding the testicles, the **** and the endings of the backbone,
The man again had six fingers on the legs and on the hands
He walks slowly like a porcupine, his dress was in tartars
He was violent to every one he met
Insulting old people and old women with words
Of bad manners not used in the kingdom of muntu,
He terrified and beat young children, including the royal children
And grand children of Walumoli the king of muntu
He again had to beat and chase nine young virgins
Who had come from the palace of Walumoli the king of Muntu
Away from the forest when they picking fire wood
As well as playing a game of hide and seek with other palace lads,
The ugly passer by then chased to get hold of the
Nalukosi the first born daughter of
Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikaha Nobwoya
The beloved last wife of the king of Muntu
All other virgins ran home, but Nalukosi remained behind
In the inextricable grip of the ugly passer by
She screamed with hysteria of a hypochondriac
She screamed and kicked with her wholesome mighty
The stubborn passer by never left her alone
She gnawed the ugly passer by with
Her girlish claws of her fingernails
But is like the passer by was mentally disordered
He was a ******* of some time
He derived some pleasure and instead
Enjoyed the girlish scratches of his captive,
Before the eight running virgins reached the palace
Together with their companions, the playmate lads
The shrilling scream of the captive Nalukosi
Was sharply heard at the palace, first by King Walumoli
Who called his wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
To come out of the hut, the kitchen and help to listen,
Immediately Mukisu wa Mujonji the palace keeper surfaced
His face displayed genuine askance of an adept military man
Whose martial arts have rusted for a week without usage
He confirmed to the king that the cry from the forest
Is of the one from this royal home of your majesty the king
And none other than the ****** princes Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The pride of her father, the eye of the palace,
Without hesitation the king permitted the wallabying Mukisu ,
Permission to run in a military dint and find out whatever that
Was eating Nalukosi Mukoyonjo the familial heart of the king,
Mukisu wa Mujonji who was clearly known in the kingdom of muntu,
For his swift running like a desert kite, he already twice chased
And gotten single handedly two male gazelles,
Without aid of a dog nor aid of fellow hunters
And delivered them to the king as a present to the palace
Which he achieved because of the speed of his legs,
On this royal permission he unsheathed his matchette
And went away like any arrow from the bow
His shirt trailing behind him like mare’s tail
Or like the flag on the post on a windy day,
Not a lot of time passed.
Mukisu wa Mujonji is at the spot of struggle,
Between Nalukosi and the Ugly passerby
There was no question or talking,
The first thing was Mukisu to sink the Matchette
With all of his mighty into the tummy of the ugly stranger
The bowels of the ugly stranger opened puffwiiii!
He breathed and gasped twice then succumbed to death.
His grip still strong on the leg of Nalukosi Mukoyonjo
The ugly passer by reached the rigor Mortis
When Nalukosi was still strongly gripped in his
Beastly hand, Mukisu wa Mujonji with all the skills
Used a Sharp matchette again; chopped of the hand
Of the ugly dead passer by off, from its torso
At the point of the muscular elbow,
Now Nalukosi was extricated, but not fully
From the grip of the dead ugly stranger,
The chopped off hand is still knotted at her leg
Around her leg, the dead hand also grips.
Nalukosi jumped here and there to throw away
The leg and the dead hand, but it was not easy to throw
The hand still stubbornly gripped around her angle,
*** time passed, each and every one of the kingdom came
Including the king Walumoli wa Muntu himself
And his nine wives, Khatembete Khobwibo Khakhalikha Nobwoya
Came last, as she was energyless due to rudely shocking tidings
Which the escaping virgins and lads had given her
That the ugly passer by had turned into the ogre
And had swallowed her daughter Nalukosi
That he had swallowed her piecemeal without chewing,
People of muntu came and found the ugly passerby dead
The left had chopped off its torso
But still hanging loosely on the leg of Nalukosi
Nalukosi jumping, kicking, screaming
Screaming away the dead hand from the grip of leg
But nothing had forthcame her way,
Walumoli wa Muntu could not afford to see
The hand on the leg of her beloved daughter
What could he tell his wife, is your all know
Dear reader and audience to this song;
Even the mighty and the wise ones
Generously bend when under the pressure of love,
Out of this dint, even before Mukisu wa Mujonji
Could display his next military card
Walumoli wa Muntu grapped the dead hand
That stuck of the leg of her daughter
And pulled it with another force that
No man born of woman has
Never used since the creation of the earth
By the gods and spirits of Muntu,
The hand come off, he throw it
On the cadaver of the ugly stranger,
He clicked and clicked and hissed
With anger like a wild turkey
In the African thorny forest,
He ordered the dead one to be buried
Their without haste, nor ceremony
Mukisu wa Mujonji buried the body
Quickly in a brief moment with precision
As if he was taking notes
From the lines of the poem
OF Pablo Neruda on how
To bury a dog behind the house
This time burying an ugly stranger
Behind the forts of the kingdom,
After all these women, children and men
Of muntu plus their king Walumoli
Went back to their houses hilariously
Broken into a song and a wild *** dance;
Makoe eehe! Makoe !
Nifwe Talangi Makoe !
Talangi!
Khwaula embogo sitella
Nifwe Talangi!
They sang up to midnight before
They all retired to their beds
Respective beds with panting thoraces
From heavy singing and dancing.

There is connection and disconexion between
The living and the dead, the living fear the dead
And dead loves the living,
The dead want the company of the living
For the living to accompany in the land of the dead,
When the ugly stranger was killed
And buried uncircumcised with the hunch
Not plucked out of his back
The gods and the livings dead
In the realm of the ancestors
Of the kingdom of Muntu were not happy,
They never wanted uncircumcised old man
With a hunch back to join them
And worse enough with the six fingers,
The gods and ancestors really god annoyed
That Walumoli wa Muntu has done them bad
He is only caring for the living, the pre-mortals
Especially his last wife and the daughter
But he has neglected the ancestors,
Why trash to ancestors a stark humanity,
They communed among themselves
And resolved to sent Namaroro
The god of dreams, dreams as messages
From the ancestors and dreams from the gods
Namaroro visited Namunyu Lubunda the palace
Prophet in the Kingdom of Muntu to pass
The message vesseling unhappiness of the ancestors
And gods in a blend of gloomy read to execute
A vendetta;
This is when in the wee of the night that Namunyu Lubunda
Dreamed and had a vision of a old man from
The east is warning of the coming long spell of starvation
That will befall the kingdom of Muntu for ten years
                                      That Namaroro told Namunyu Lubunda
As for ten seasons of foodlessness
Behold a begging kingdom
Behold a starving throne,
The scepter of Muntu is a disgrace
To the holder
Then Namunyu Lubunda set forth by dawn
To the Palace to meet Walumoli wa Muntu
In his, palace before any other royal chores come up,
Both good and bad luck combined
Only to have Namunyu Lubunda to get the king at the palace
He got him fresh and relaxed chewing the cup of fortune
In his full ego, all his wives had submitted to the morning dishes
To his dining hall in the palace, he moved his hands from
One plate of food to the other.
Namunyu Lubunda entered with a submissive salutation
To the royal, He bowed and declared the glory of the king
In typical standards of the ethnic composition of the house of Muntu
Walumoli wa Muntu Mukitang’a Mutukuika
Majave Kutusi Mbirira Omwene esimbo ya
Kumukasa,
Walumoli responded with a feat of dignity to Namunyu Lubunda
The palace prophet, as he roared to him; come in
Come in son of Lubunda son of our people,
He did mention the name of Namunyu Lubunda father
As he fears his words may escape with the power
Of his kingdom the scepter of Muntu
To other insignificant families in the kingdom,
Let me announce what brings me here; intoned Namunyu
Go ahead and announce my holiness
s the prophet of this kingdom; responded Walumoli,
Misfortune is awaiting the kingdom
It will eat this kingdom away
Like a ravenous hyena on the ewe’s tail
The ancestors and the spirits of this land
This kingdom of yours the son of Muntu
Are immensely offended with your recent behaviour
In which you commandeered all villages
In your kingdom; from east and west
The **** the innocent passer by
With your owner hands that handle the scepter
You killed and lay to rest the foreigner
A pure omurende to the kingdom of muntu
You buried him uncircumcised without contrite
In the cemeteries of our foremen who asleep and circumcised
Why did you lower the dignity of our forefathers
Who never share a roof with uncircumcised person
To share the ancestral realm; our emagombe
With hunchback foreigner not circumcised?
This kingdom is condemned to all spell of curse of death
Ceaseless hunger famines and starvation
Women dwindle in their reproductive capacity
Rarely will you come across a pregnant woman
Food will be difficulty to put on the table
Even the sweat of your brow will go to naught,
You will not be buried with insignia
Like a pauper you killed will you be buried
The house of your wife Khatembete Kho Bwibo
Khakhalikha no bwoya is a house of no consequences
For even your daughter Nalukosi stands cursed
She will not mature to be wedded into a marriage
She will hover the earth under heavy agonies of hunger,
My assignment is done and over
With or without your permission let me go.









THE FIRST SONG
Our song continues dear brethren
Come join me in arms we sing
Joyous singing of these songs of peace
Telling the world peaceful stories
As we enjoy sitting together around my grandmothers fire yard
Warming our selves to her lovely fire inherent in her good stories,
These songs will sing the glory and success of the king of Manani
It is an irregular Ode to Silinki wa Namunguba the son of Mwangani,
The son of Tunduli, the son of Wajala Njovu, the son of Welikhe, the son
Of manyorori, the son of Chumbe, the son of Kajo, the Son of Mabati, the son of welotia,
The son of sikele sia mulia, the son of Toywa,the son of siruju, the son of Mango, the son of Mulwoni sinyanya Bakhasi, the son of Mbakara , the son of Makhakara wa Nambuya, the son of Mukoye mulala kukhalikha w0nga, the son of Zumba the son of God.
Silinki
I thought it right to assess some antidepressants, which philosophers are more inclined to call mood enhancers.
This was during my foray into human enhancement, substances intended to enhance physicality, cognition or mood. Nootropic compounds concern the latter two categories.

The most commonly prescribed mood enhancers are serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SRIs), but it takes over a week for these compounds reach their peak effect.
Thus I approached them with the notion that a limited dosage might point to their character, though  not reveal. These considerations in mind, I set about acquiring a few miscellaneous anti-D's.

Fluoxetine was the first successful selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor (SSRI), better known by its original brand-name Prozac. Fluoxetine has an acute biological half-life of between 1-3 days. Presence of a trifluoromethyl group on the compound deserves note, I wonder what the presence of electronegative fluorine atoms add to the psychoactive flavor of a compound (subjective effects).
I administered a single dose by mouth, there was some indication of subjective character. Light serotonergic sensations and seemingly benign mood-dampening, there is a ****** towards the positive. Waking headspace relatively uninteresting. Observed hints of oneirogenesis, did not manifest in enough character to be detailed - a sort of vivid, 'pulsive wandering, more pronounced in contrast to its waking character.
Good experiment, interesting results.
Ligand     Ki (nM)   Ki (nM)
Target      Flx            Nflx
SERT        1               19
NET         660           2700
DAT         4180         420
5-HT2A   200           300
5-HT2B    5000         5100
5-HT2C    72.6          91.2
α1             3000         3900
M1            870           1200
M2            2700         4600
M3            1000         760
M4            2900         2600
M5            2700         2200
H1            3250         10000

Sertraline is another popular SSRI, also known by it's original brand-name Zoloft. Sertraline has a variable half-life, on average 26 hours.
It's metabolite, desmethylsertraline, has a half life between 62-104 hours but is a far less potent Serotonin Releasing Agent (SRA).
The presence of two chlorine atoms is interesting. The usual, phenomenal serotonergicity is present and pushing towards the positive.
Some nausea, particularly when hungry (this disappeared after some minestrone soup). Some faintness after physical exertion. This dose did not promote onirogenesis. There was a moment of cognitive distortion when the proportions of a focal object seemed to be growing in-and-out, shifting in size.
Site                 Ki (nM)
SERT              0.15–3.3
NET               420–925
DAT               22–315
5-HT1A       >35,000
5-HT2A          2,207
5-HT2C          2,298
α1A        ­        1900
α1B                 3,500
α1D                 2,500
α2                  477–4,100
D2                  10,700
H1                  24,000
mACh           427–2,100
σ1                   32–57
σ2                   5,297

Escitalopram is an SSRI commonly prescribed for major depression and generalised anxiety. It is the (S)-stereoisomer of citalopram. The biological half-life is of escitalopram is between 27-32 hours.
I administered a dose and thought the phenomenal serotonergicity less apparent than fluoxetine but then gastro-intestinal disturbance was noted, I surmised it has a high affinity for 5-HT2C.
Any oneiric qualities were not readily apparent after a single dose, relatively little visual imagery which is understandable given its lack of affinity for 5-HT2A. I found this to be philosophically interesting. Mood elevation observed in bursts of conversation and as odd sensations, possible mental discomfort.
Ligand,
Recptr     Ki (nM)
SERT       2.5
NET        6,514
5-HT2C   2,531
α1            3,870
M1           1,242
H1           1,973

Venlafaxine is a selective serotonin-norepinephrine reuptake inhibitor (SNRI). Venlafaxine and its metabolites are active for about 11 hours.
Initial subjective effects similar to a very light empathogenic stimulant. Perception of altered attention-span/increased reflexive response; energizing yet paradoxically much yawning.
Ligand,  Vnfx      Dvnfx
Recptr    Ki(nM)  Ki(nM)
SERT  ­    82           40.2
NET       2480        558.4

Tianeptine is a tricyclic antidepressant (TCA) with an unusual mechanism of action. It is an atypical agonist of the μ-opioid receptor and has been described as a (selective) serotonin reuptake enhancer (SRE). It has a short duration as sodium salts [prescribed form] of between 2-4 hours but as sulfate this can be notably extended, some of its metabolites are active for longer than tianeptine itself.
Definitely anxiolytic, quite artificial; possible aphrodisiac. I find its opioid activity dissuading, requires caution.
Site          Ki (nM)
MOR       383–768 (Ki)
                 194 (EC50)
DOR      >10,000 (Ki)
                 37,400 (EC50)
KOR      >10,000 (Ki)
                 100,000 (EC50)
All other transporter/receptor/sub-receptor values are >10,000 (Ki).

Bupropion is a norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibitor (NDRI) with affinity for some nicotinic receptors. Bupropion and its metabolites are active for between 12-36 hours. Interestingly it is a substituted cathinone.
Initial subjective effects similar to a fairly light stimulant. Perception of increased attention-span and improved cognition. It is an onirogen that is neutral in quality, enhancing vivid dreaming (a boon of its nicotinic affinity which is counteracted if the stimulant component impinges on sleep). Completely absent of serotonergicity, curious.
The N-tert-butyl group's effect is most interesting, how it affects metabolism and to what extent ROAs alter pharmacokinetics.
I took 150mg ******, as extended and as instant release (the latter was more pronounced). I thought an altered pharmakinetic profile might result from bypass of hepatic metabolism, so I tried 25mg insufflated and felt as if there was effect that it differed slightly from oral ROAs, but also worried that its metabolic fate is thence unknown (compare to the neurotoxic 3-CMC). What of other bupropiologues,
for example, 3-Methyl-N-tert-butyl-methcathinone? Indeed.
                        Bupropion    R,R-Hydroxybuprpn   Threo-hydrobuprpn
AUC               1                     23.8                                  11.2
Half-life         11 h                 19 h                                 31 h
IC50 (μM)
DAT               0.66                  inactive                          47 (rat)
NET               1.85                   9.9                                  16 (rat)
SERT              inactive          inactive               ­            67 (rat)
α3β4 nic         1.8                   6.5                                   14 (rat)
α4β2 nic         12                     31                                   no data
α1β1γδ nic     7.9                    7.6                                  no data

Moclobemide is a reversible inhibitor of monoamine oxidase A (RIMA), its monoamine oxidase inhibition lasts about 8–10 hours and wears off completely by 24 hours. Inhibiting the decomposition of monoamines (e.g. serotonin, norepinephrine and dopamine) increases their accumulation at an extracellular level. It tends to suppress REM sleep and so it lacks oneirogenic properties.
Feeling of well-being, less constrained by the usual anxieties; openness. Relatively unnoticeable side-effects when diet is carefully managed. Made the mistake of eating a cheese and turkey sandwich (i.e. foodstuff rich in tryptophan/tyramine), indications of serotonergicity later became apparent: feelings of overheating and flushing, slight sweating, racing thoughts and anxious discomfort. A stark reminder of Shulgin's old adage: "there is no casual experiment".
Combination with a select few tryptamines (not 5-MeO-xxT) should be safe, and synergistic (perfect for pharmahuasca); reputed to potentiate GHB. However, generally it is extremely dangerous to combine with serotonergic drugs.
Skylar Del Re Sep 2015
They say copying is the highest form of flattery
but i think its because you have no originality
always replicating what i do
is it just me
is there any thoughts inside of you
everything you do
is because of someone else
can you really not see it
how can't you tell
we all see right through it
open your eyes and you will too
stop trying to be me
and start being you

copy cat copy cat
annoying little copy rat
copy cat copy cat
mindless spineless poison trap
copy cat copy cat
shady lame copy rat
copy cat copy cat
do you have a brain in tact

Now don't get me wrong i don't think i'm anything that great
not trying to be rude this is not something i want to debate
so now do you get the whole picture
why be a sheep
when you can bite just like a wolf
you've got so much to offer so why be another
a whole entire world out there
so why even care
just be the one you are
with nothing to loose you'll go so far
i know there's more to you
parts i can't see through
Raj Arumugam Sep 2014
there’s a rat and there’s a cat
both sitting on the fence
(literally on the fence -
cats and rats don't take up positions on issues)

and a boy happens to pass by;
the rat turns to the cat
but says nothing cause rats don’t talk;
the cat turns to the rat
and eats the rat
cause it’s in its nature to do so

the boy walks past
with no idea what’s happening
cause he’s human
(though they talk and eat a lot,
humans have no idea what’s happening)

— The End —