Little Lithe Leoprine
Songstress
One in the symphony of Light

She's the new borne melody
We sometimes whistle
When blithe uplifts Life

Happily out of tune

Minutes floating into liquid
As carefree as the rain
Love pouring compliments

Like skeins of midnight's moon...

We dance in the rebirth
Oceanus the perfect kisses
That touch our thirst and skin

Raziel is the beauty that we feel
As the sky's brilliant applause
Booms & Flickers lightning

Exciting yet inside silence laud
Like hush hovers in an infants room,
Golden sleep Til cherubs dawn

Love is the secret kept awake
By every parent proud,
Standing in the light

Through the doorway,
Keeping quiet keeping watch
Silence and treasures, futures bright...

Keeping faith staying true
Watching the breathing of lil
(oh when that was you)

Flawless is the beauty
When joy is all that's known
We choose to leap when we let go

Knowing well we reap what we sow
Down here below.

Shhh... Love is kept secret
When the Devils see your truth
Tiny dancer, lovely songstress,

True blue my baby boo.

Listen lithely and fearless too
To life's passions/hues
Raziel is the heart's pulsing,

(Rainbow lightning)

All within you.

war took mine, i was sold  playing tenchu
on level 6... just before i was to
assassinate this ***, and he practised all
his bow skill in private, then it was made public
by a ninja... i only completed final
fantasy 7 with a walk-through...
i hate the fact that i stuck to
the schooling narrative...
  but hose were the PS1 days,
those days are gone, gone gone gone,
bye bye gone...
                 the **** was that?!
an oscar for best actor at the gladiator premier?!
why isn't more gaming mentioned in poetry?
where is raziel, and the the legacy of cain:
soul reaver, and the story about how he
squashed his brothers:
dumah, melchiah, rahab, and zephon?
oh look: the geek in me!
                 100 years from a youtube video...
i'm bound to do the bristol d'uh and say:
i've never been to south america...
nor ever...
                        me go sort out this avalanche
if that's o.k. with you, hmm?
this is the thrill you get when seeing peoiple
play a reincarnation of gameboy,
i.e. candy-crush saga... if you moved beyond
the PS1 universe you won't get it...
if you remember PS1 games, you'll probably
remember SEGA and sonic,
and age of empires 2, and sim city 3000...
**** me! but you won't probably remember the
weathergirl... who was becky mantin
when this was written...
           odd, that little gray box of saturdays
and sometimes sundays, but definitely
saturday mornings...
                    it gone... and i don't feel like owning
an update of it, because games have become
overtly narrative prone, they only allow thise gameplay
that's too narrated... i switch on the console
and i want mario bros. calculator type of dynamism...
instead i get this really complex story
when i should be reading a book...
   no, really, when did gaming become so
****** engrossing that i try to become distracted by
brick walls?
           when did i or when didn't i take to playing
chess? well... when i started playing dominos
with 6 cigarette stumps and a black hardcover
philosophy book... maybe around then.
books i great, believe me...
but this nook of counter-arcade games?
i woke up at 9am as if about to go to school
and played that japanese fetish for hours...
so much if our culture in nearing the post-20th
century culture was axis... it was almost all japanese...
you can't take that fact out and replace it
concerning: god intervened at Giza and yawned
at chichén itzá...
because you would... still, i thankfully retired
from the gaming experience (when did PS2 come out?
i wanted it for about 2 years and still didn't
get it)...
    1998? 1997?
                      thankfully i get to mention computer
games like novels... SEGA mega drive?
yep, owned that.
                   and yes, i can cite an ATARI,
and ****, **** **** me!
   that original NINTENDO?!
              and that shooting mallard simulation
against a screen of televisions that could
still issue you with van der graaf static
   of "levitating" hair?
(when televisions were still 3D and played
you remnants of the big bang
       in televised black and white khrrr sound,
all dicta fidgety, like looking through the eyes
of a bluebottle fly)... or
    the original prince of persia?
     those two dimensional ferns rotating round and
round when approached in the original tomb raider?
oh forget the cone-****-madonna...
shaid the ish cream van man to shaun shoonery...
cheap ****: said the dead with charlie
at the head of their horde of entertainment's flops.
i retired from the gaming world though,
left it when PS1 expired...
and morphed into PS2...
           i'm half sad and half saying: i can understand
candy crush, because i can understand
the origin: TETRIS.
like i can understand why i can't do crosswords,
my father just said: even i can't do them,
the clues are all a bit of a wanking to comprehend...
it's as if they only based them on the thesaurus...
   we're good on sudoku though, that can be solved
without problems...
        i miss those games though,
i finished final fantasy 7 with a walkthrough
though... tenchu was also fun to complete,
crash bandicoot? anyone remember him?
           now for not faking it...
                                     i'm glad that's over,
i'd hate the gaming experience as i hate interactive
t.v. thesedays... all this pause and rewind?
  thanks to it i sometimes press the STOP
button when listening to the radio and wonder
why it just keeps running... oh right: this isn't
a c.d. transmission... funny though, the gaming experience
translated into t.v. really has made advertising
ultra competative or utterly useless....
   you just end up pausing before a break, and then
scrolling past the advertisers' airtime...
next thing i'll be buying is when they make
an advert for shoepaste.

ask me: i'm a sucker for pop music and medieval hymns, whether folk or of a gratitude toward a community akin to Taizé... while society suffocates me with jester's pounces to satiate a coming bride.. i'm more inclined to satiated myself with monkish escapades... i am aware of the "existential" absolute negotiation: to preserve the upright specimen... i'm pretty sure the chinese, the african and the indian sub-continent have it covered, i'm happy to be part of the dodo project... clearly i don't want to be part of it... i should have been allowed to be a monk, with each day passing i'm hardly thinking of the petty conquests of a bedroom with a... come on... even i thought this brief relationship could resemble a brothel's "one hour spare"... Tamara... spanish girl, worked in a barber shop... lived with three homosexual hunks... i tried having a hard-on, even when she told me to have a bath with her and talk... i couldn't get it up, i was put off when she wanted a kleenex moment, ***, incubated, under the bedsheets... in a brothel you **** under dimmed lights but not in a womb of cotton! you shower first, sometimes even washing each other, there's this whole unwritten ritual! she puts on a ****** while she ***** you off... come on... aaesthetic, cordiality... prostitutes have been the most respectful women i've ever ******, it's like joining an army of marching ******... in a pink floyd revision of marching hammers... imagine... the neo-communist flag: ***** replaces the hammer... the sickle? scissors, i guess, borrowing from scissor sisters? ***** & scissors? great! we have ourselves the new soviet, ahem, soviet union... and a flag to boot! oh Tamara Tamara... sure, no hard-on... drunk one-night stand cameo... i tried and tried, but i kept suffocating under the bed-sheets cocoon ***... she broke with me after 3 days because the hard-on wasn't coming... god, i too wish i could be the perfect ***** with a heart, kidneys, liver stomach and brain to match: ON / OFF... isn't a male ******* akin to a slobbering oyster of a woman's *****? **** impressions... kama sutra speaks about elephant phallus and a rabbit's ****** (depth)... i can't just switch it on, & off... it's not a ******* ****-pumping-piston worthy of ******* web-cam incel ******* worth of video, is it?! never mind... i was having coffee in the morning between her inquiring gay-minders (she suddenly left of Ibiza to find love)... i was saved by a presence of a robin... and you know what a fictional Napoleon would have said: a robin is worth twice the sparrow's worth... timid foot, tender foot... shy organge loiter... who... for some strange reason, migrastes to eastern europe for winter, then migrates to england during the summer... i guess: continental europe provides the sort of winters that are summers, while england provides the sort of summers that are winters... the mythology of Poland... storks and bisons... on a whiff... teenage gamer... but the storyline still grips me: soul reaver:
   protagonist: Raziel...
the brothers:
              Melchiah, Zephon, Rahab and Dumah...
games what worked as book-alt.,
                  i'm almost itching to add diacritical
marks to those names to "x-ray" into syllables
and hyphens...
    mind you, what has remained of the old
anglo-ßaß?
        names in chemistry... already, mentioned,
somewhere...
  sure... gaming is fun these days,
given the in-game cash-in handicap...
from Kazakh, Ukraine, China of the rich...
etc.,
                    these internet-based non-NPC games...
they're great for non NPC non-a.i. characters,
i.e. the old games had... not so much NPC...
but s.i.: synthetic intelligence...
   it wasn't artificial as it wasn't analytical
intelligence, it was a fixed intelligence
of the "opponent" / i.e. narrative...
             modern gaming can only be spectated...
on the evolutionary "debate"
when you: only purchased a PS1 and didn't
buy any console after...
as if "waiting" for the internet to catch up
to the grid... where you could play games live...
imagine a game...
     like the old narrative games...
but where the "opponent", i.e. the narrative
learns from your first encounter...
   long gone would be the encounters
with NPC in the old school standard of
synthetic intelligence, synthetic implying:
repetition, nothing being new...
   if the NPS characters could be given
analytical intelligence parameters...
     you could reinvent the old model of games...
away from the internet FREE...
  but, really: you're playing with a handicap
against people who have made in-game
purchases... hell... once a game cost 20 quid...
and it might last you three weeks' solid
of weekend gameplay in the early morning
on a saturday... in bed...
           i'm not really a gamer...
well if i'm the *******, the throne of thrones
i'm a gamer: just like some people
are thinkers on the ******* reading books...
but the old "solipsist" gamer is long gone...
the one who played to construct
a complex cognitive narrative...
i'll repeat the mention...
i once told a "friend" about playing sims...
he was so engaged in the game,
built this, built that...
i told him i freaked out when i moved
my sim to play a game on the computer...
hence finding the illuminating
wormhole of the Droste Effect...
  i stopped playing...
  final fantasy VII?
   only with a walkthrough...
homework and ****...
           going to the mall on saturday
with the misfits...
running up tier carparks and then aiming
with saliva on people walking in...
    talking to hare krishna converts...
about Dave Lombardo's insane drumming...
ilford: early 21st century...

cut off... a second poem:

.poland played israel in a soccer match today, the hymns began, first came the israeli hymn... boos and whistling, at first... but then i heard casimir III hush the crowd.... lucky for me not being in warsaw... the crowd silenced their illogical anti-semitism, the choir sang, libera me domine... i cannot fathom the russian purges, or the germanic dislike of these people.... casimir III's hush... i look at the cat sitting on my bed, glum, yet proud... how soon the whistling and engaging with mob sounds was hushed when the israeli anthem was sung... i'm happy for these people, even if i am one of them, but at such a distance: i don't feel i am part of them... so much for the glorification of western objectivity standards in argument... but i am a ******, on the british isles... what sort of objectivity am i i to expect? the objective counter-subjectivity of born in Poland, but bred in England?! is that it?! walking abortion... i am proud that the crazed mob was hushed when the israeli anthem continued... after all... SS-obersturmbannführer rudolf höss did cite casimir III allowing jews to settle in these eastern european lands... nes c'est pas? né(s) ç'é(st) pā(s)?! how else to write something akin to this, without finding oneself gritting one's teeth, grinding them into a toothpaste sensation of fluoride sandpits?!

fan-boy literature: stendhal, dante,  
         dumas             (vs)
   young-adult novels,
              which, i will never read...

            just enough whiskey
to count the rounds
of the crucuible
of the current escapade...

i'm ageing,
but i still like bands
like i might be a teenager...
          
came the: grand sorrow
taste, for all that's worth,
in encompassing a tomorrow.

I don't want a simple girl.
I want a madwoman.
A ***** who can stimulate my mind,
my very own Poison Ivy.
A catalyst for inner growth,
an extension of my Self.
I crave a woman unlike any other,
as complex as they come;
Whose beauty is the wisdom
of the Universe when sung--
in its native tongue. --[Love];)
I yearn for a woman..
just as intricate as I.
A Creator, a mountain mover,
a mindful singularity.
The woman who inspires me to be,
to write, to become great.
The only one I must impress.
She, who notices the subtleties
that go unspoken,
and the intricacies
that elude all other muses.
I seek the Love that enables.
The Love, that is Life, thriving.
I refuse to accept-- just any
ordinary household love.
I long for the synergy of mind,
of two souls entwined--
In a neurological nexus.
I pray..
for a symphony of Love,
with God as the composer,
where she and I,
comprise the notes,
to the Magnum Opus
of Divinity.

                                      -Elswer
                                      (Raziel Flores)

I remember you from a past life..
whence too many questions occupied my mind. Back when fun was all that mattered,
and tears ran freely down my face.
Far before I found the courage within myself to know, to intuit, which fork in the road led home.

I don't miss you, I can't.

Because I know what it's like to miss you,
And simply..
I don't deserve that kind of punishment.
Anymore.
I have suffered enough.

Do you know what 'asceticism' is?

It means..
To abandon everything you know,
and love, willingly.
To embark on a journey,
in search of your Self.
To return, a different man,
to a different place.
A mere walking,
and a mere becoming.

It's chaotic, for a man without faith.

To have done
what I've done.

To have felt what I've felt.

Time really does wait for no one.

You see..
A man does not attain the highest goal,
or awaken the Supreme Truth within himself in a habitual habitat. All the Sages pointed in the same direction, and my heart was drawn; Twas my calling to become.
Twas like magnets to the metals in my blood.

They said:
"Search, and you will find."
So I did, and I have found my purpose,
if that means anything to you.


To move, is to live. To remain static is death;
One of many affirmations
I've asserted, and adhere to.

I'm a man of virtue now, believe it or not.

Because I know what it's like to die,
to perish, at last.
Its a breath of fresh air.
To lay your head down, once,
after slaying waves of inner demons,
in the darkest of chasms of the mind.
For six long years, at last.
      
                                        ..At last.

But I also know what it's like,
to be reborn.
To acquire new perspective.
To move toward the light;
to find the exit, out of the dire,
idle hopelessness I made my home.
To desecrate my soul, from the grave,
to the garden I could smell,
but could not touch.

And to allow beauty, the privilege of my perception.

And to laugh, to laugh!

At last..
                                    ..At last.

And I have a feeling..
That this journey..
This..
Odyssey, I embarked on,
was not walked alone.

You were forced to walk it with me.

You must have felt an egregious pain.
To be left, alone, with a child to care for.
To have questioned the integrity,
of the only man you ever loved,
without an explanation.
To have wondered if that love was ever real.
To have thought yourself a fool.
Used. Played.
I know I made your biggest fear, reality;
And you were much too pure, too innocent.
Too inexperienced to have seen it coming,
or to cope, or to maintain your composure.
You must have questioned your faith.

But I bet you've grown so much.

Don't hate me for that.


If it accounts for anything..

Let it be known:
You were the last woman to have conquered my heart, and I have worshipped no other woman since.


I forgive myself;
And I allow Love
into my life.

...and I hope you do too.

-Raziel

there are variants... of the word...
when you're sitting on a windowsill,
and everyone is asleep...
in the middle of the night...
there are variants...
  pride...
but the Slavic variant?
almost sounds like a mythological
name of a god...
ah... the game soul reaver...
a name, of a brother...
of Raziel...
     Dumah... the rhino...
        you can have
the variant...
       Dúmāh...
   no Hebrew interference...
leave this among the gentiles...
DUMA!
  DUMA?! it means! PRIDE!
alternatively it implies
(he's) pondering...
something obscure...
keep me posted,
when you have this sorted out..
i, am | | this close...
to shouting out the written word
into the night...
or should i call the police...
having heard
my female neighbor...
being shouted at by her
husband... oh wait...
she called the police,
before checking on me...
lucky ***** begets an abusive husband...
lucky me...
lucky schadenfreude me...
and i hate that sort of "me"...
     i was this close to echoing that name
into the oblivious universe...
pride...
                  duma...
which also implies pondering...
but it primarily invokes the understanding
of: pride...
now...
tell me why i listened to
the winged hussar death song...
full volume, in classical form?
retards 'r' us?!
                   what?!
head too small, nose too big?
       you have me rattled up to the point
of: let's have the next London bomb,
so i can have my next self-righteous point!
i'm not going to call the police
on her abusive husband,
she chose, she begets the regrets...
there are always two stories...
one... the ****** gets crucified...
two... some ****** plays the bureaucrat
gimmick...
i'm this close to exfoliating
in shouting the naame D'umah!
but... considering how this, *****...
called the police on me,
in my hour of peril...
and now she has an abusive husband,
and a baby...
do i look like someone who
gives a ****?!
do i do?!
            suffer *****... suffer!
oh... you think that sadists
are...
     what's that psychological word...
that sadists are...
regretting?
  no.... that's not it...
  sadists...
    they're...
                sad... amplified sad...
what's amplified sad?
****...
                     regretting? no...
        digressive?!
no...
    sad,, lonely...
   no...
               DISGRUNTLED!
yep!
but it's a synonym;
****...
      
                what was the word the people
used...
   dis-                    something...
think: lasting impressions...
   ah...

                 d'uh...
                                    "feeling"...
   bitter...
   could have stated: Lemon... for ****'s sake!

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