A touch of Synthetic Blue
drips
down our tear battered frames
before it catches on
a match made in hell
Becomes an oily
twisting
saffron cold flame
Redefines love
as a pact to collectively
fall apart
Redefines hate
as a pop cultural norm
As it smolders
strife imitates art
Another massacre
Another overdose
Another malignant mass media circus
and maybe now
you understand
inevitability


*Synthetic Blue is a registered trademark of White Spider Pharmaceuticals, a division of the White Spider Corporation, and is used without permission.

You grip my throat sporadically, erratically – not often.
And trickle in through passages and pores I can’t defend.
Treacle through fingers.
But you avoid me too, and I hate it just as much.

I wait for your hand to loosen,
I breathe cool air,
Then I feel your absence.

Your gloopy venom is addictive.
I tasted you once, and now my tongue yearns,
And eats itself –
It flickers and twists and spits its serpentine-self out. In vain.
A vague, dull shadowy lustre remains,
Undulating under baited breath,
For another foul injection.

In reality I fear you. I despise you. I hate you.
If you’d only never return,
I could spit you out forever,
And tongue sweeter, healthier, more benign stuff.
No more swilling,
No more idiosyncratic sways upon social norms,
High Society and empty smiles that stifle natural intentions.

You are a disease, and far from untreated.
You are the last drag, the last hit,
The very last dose that no one actually wants.

I rebuke myself wholeheartedly
At even entertaining the idea of having you in my company. Yet there you are –

In every message, in every ransacked draw,
In every turned out rucksack, every old coat pocket,
Every ***** shirt, every unstitched button,
In every visitor’s news, every car back-seat,
Every dusty notebook, every empty fruit-bowl,
Every old, long-unseen smile, every dowsed fire,
Every man woman and child I sit across the table from.

There you are. Somehow. In some form.
Turning my sweat cold like cheap wine,
In what is otherwise an already disturbingly depressing
Struggle to maintain some kind of equilibrium or serenity,
Let alone with your smug mug cropping up scornfully uninvited.

You ****** me before I recognise you.
Helping yourself to the food on my plate with a wink,
While I do nothing as if handcuffed, and chained at the soul.
Then I move to eat.
Hand to fork.
Fork to mouth.
And it tastes of you.
It reeks of you.
And if I were anything but human,
I’d spit you out onto the kitchen floor,
Stamp on the bile you’ve stolen from me,
Burn you with kerosene,
And wage a third world war on the very concept of you ever existing.

But I am a human.
And moments later you have me
‘******* and thinking of death’
As coy and Marvellian as you like.

I indulge in full-knowing paralysis,
Lapping up your unvanquished honeyed venom,
With a voraciousness that redefines Lovesick –
Giving it a whole new meaning
Going beyond the epitome of disgust.

Enslaved, you have me smash myself against the ceiling.
And eat myself over again from within.
Consuming me like the fire I found you in.

You have me rage and conspire against those I don’t know.
But I will conspire against you one-day.
You have me hate others, but I will forever hate you.
You have me search my soul and grate it upon street corners
And the pavement of city-centres,
While you gleefully, whimsically **** my past
Or polish vain, rose-tinted hopes that without you
I’d know were futile and unjust –
Until I ruin them myself, knowing all the while
That you are the author of my unnecessary devastations.

But I will smash your green demonic skull into obsolescence
In some back-alley where none will find your
Bubbling frothing corpse.
You will be utterly repudiated even by the rats.
And the flies will drop you,
Iota
By
Iota,
Onto the tracks at Dalston to be rendered into absolute oblivion.
And I will go, a man unshackled, about my business –
Whether it be of importance or not,
It will be with a conscience cleansed.

But for now, vile sham of an emotion that you are,
I do your inglorious bidding.
Zombified and putrid, my actions smell of you.
They reek of you.

You intoxicate what should be left alone
And endured with silence and rapidity.
Yet you elongate these private, personal trails torturously,
In some sensational Cold War.

It goes without saying,
The world would be well rid of you.
Yet godlike, you endure the ages
Just as we endure you.

Perhaps Keats was too afraid to admit it –
You are the original
La Belle Dame Sans Merci.
Pluto’s daughter in persistent disguise.
To be seen presently
‘******* and thinking of death’.

It’s the way colors would taste if you could eat them. White would taste of contentment, yellow of happiness, purple of infatuation, red of passion, and pink would taste of endearment. Pick your poison; they’ll all be the death of you in the end.
It’s the way it smells when it first begins to rain. Its aroma lingers like vanilla, fresh linen, or an open flame that’s sparks kiss your fingertips. It clings to your clothes and in your hair to be smelled by others around you. To some, this scent may be too strong.
It sounds like complete silence amidst a roaring thunder. It’s at a frequency only you can hear and comprehend. It’s a ringing in your ears that leaves them throbbing or the echo of voices when you’re submerged in water --- starting loud and progressively fading away with the sunlight that rests on the water’s horizon.
It’s the way butterfly kisses feel, faintly tickling your cheeks when they’re damp with fresh tears. Or the way your body shudders at the touch of a cold hand and your temperature elevates, leaving a numbness where fingers traced over your skin.
It’s the way a sea of grass looks when you’re crawling on your hands and knees. It’s the sight of two hands clasped with fingers intertwined. It’s what causes your eyes to widen when you see the expression that lingers on her face when she thinks you’re not looking. The look that says all that can’t be spoken with words.
It’s all the power that lies within that four letter, one syllable word. The word that redefines every one of your five senses. ..
Love.
Love may be like a lot of things, but it’s not like falling. I never fully understood the expression “falling in love” --- probably because it isn’t accurate, and doesn’t make sense. Falling is what people do on a daily basis --- love is when someone catches you.

As life is created from her womb
Bountiful preparation is needed
Charisma, duty, and love
Develop the best care offered
Ecstatic for recording memorabilia
For such experiences occur only once
Given the opportunity to successfully grow
Home redefines as “elsewhere besides the abode”
Ill from separation
Joy still remains in the love connection
Kept in touch through messages of endearment
Life becomes more heartwarming
Mothers nurture endless dreams

Waves roll in, pounding surf
Speeding along below the grey skies.
Spewing ****, screaming ******* songs of sadistic “self-control”
According to angry-woman, assessment of everything outweighs any enjoyment
Waves roll in, pounding surf,
Speeding along below the grey skies
Red in the distance reflects the ranting repulsive requiem that redefines our ride
Learning loses love and lacks life when you demand ludicrous lapses of logic like lectures,
Busy-work, bad business that burns the brains of brilliant children. Breath in, breath out. Listen.
Don't burn out. Let the waves wash over you
Waves roll in, pounding surf.
Speeding along below the grey skies.

Only human. The sky is clearing, but in this car you become a demon.

Only human, beneath grey skies.

Waves roll in, pounding surf.

Here I sit
In this basement of
some other house
In the core of the city-
I'm almost on my own...
This January's night
Flashes frozen-
As I adicite, light
I see all that I've chosen:

perturbation, and frustration,
Entwine in all my fascination
Stinging- they whip my body &
paint on lacerations

What you've chosen I cannot see
And the light I catch redefines me
Shadows ignite
That December's day
Reminds me I'm not alone.
In the outskirts of Toronto-
In my Parents home-
My room, my bed - my life's in
The basement

its there; I cry.

I'd grab a knife and let it tear through my flesh
to rip out this inner strife if it wouldn't lead to my death.
My soul shivers he beats on his chest in fact that's why I breathe
on this ****** to try and relax. My mind is stretched to the max
my head needs to detach, my soul needs to eject.
Hotheaded armed with an icepick.
Hacking away at this ice that my spine grips.
My thoughts are confined in a space as small as my iris
and I'm behind iron bars of anxiety that I constantly have to fight with.
I've become a mass murderer, locked in a psychiatric ward as I **** my parts within, erasing my kin, the ink from the teardrops darkens my skin.
Fallen to sin. My world in the dark. A void shaped like a heart.
Yet this Tinman retaliates against the wizard of Oz!
My torch an everburning question mark
answers? That's the past but Life throwing hooks so I HAVE to dodge.
Hits exit Pause-my-world which I create so I can spit back in the face of God!

You awoke a sleeping giant, a savage beast, a lion
My soul roars everytime you see me sighin
I won't ignore these tidings
A frozen force is rising
Close to war my broken core redefines defiance.

So I will stand my ground and fight
go bar for bar with life.
Proudly wear these battlescars
you'll be astounded by my might
A star upon my sky
My reach is long and wide
You see I'm strong you're weak and wrong
I no longer hide
Because I don't have a mind
I am guided by the light
my sight set on my rage
replace my blood with hate
bleed and rust and easily crush
this tyrant in my cage.

The world constantly loses its meaning
It constantly redefines itself
At a point all is jumbled
Then good is bad
Bad becomes good
And so our world goes around
Changing the people with itself
Change being the only other constant leaving time
And in all the madness we living creatures learn to endure
In this madness created by us
Thus evolving into what we fear
Leading to our demise.

Today I gazed into the mirror
Realized I'm, I've been and
Different will forever be.
I realized something else
That somewhere out there
There's someone like me
Living within his own confines
Better versions of everyday
He constructs and life redefines
Someone who thinks reality is wrong
And dreams are for real
Someone who once struggled against the wheel
And realized it’s got a stronger will
Someone whose weakness is their strength
Someone who always goes alength
Someone who knows that the normal Train left
While they in the day slept
So they have to wake all night
To think, imagine fight and write
Someone who knows the past is abreast
That they can surf the wave of life to her crest
For while others are in motion
There's always them at rest
And that fact addressed
Now embrace that notion
Someone whose cyclone is cynical
Going past the usual pinnacles
In a struggle to being a pinnacle ladder
Someone working ****** harder
Someone different but feeling no shame
Knowing our differences make us the same

Made with love,
    Energy passionately mixed with body chemistry of the highest degree,
    causing a chemical reaction that redefines chemistry.

The time numbs. I want it raw like it was.
Like ******* and ******.
Something powerful and honest.

I let lies continue.
Fantasies I tease myself with.
I never follow these potential trails.
I’m terrified of not having blissful reverie.
Closure haunts me. I’m scared of definition.

I live in a time that never ends.
I breath the exhaust we know but cannot see.
The world spins upon my shoulders, I pass it on without using my hands.
People die, it’s distant.
Life doesn’t mean much.

I live here in a puddle.
I love all the potential I have to waste.
I don’t know what I would slobber on without it.

I want something raw.
Something abrasive, without some sort of superficial veil.
If I brush back another thin facade just to uncover a clearer image of *******.
I’ll slump the world with my bear hands, and whatever blunt object is abreast.
The ensuing postlude or coattail if you will, is gruesome and redefines the word genocide.

Life passes by because it’s not cut with iron anymore. It’s chiseled away with fantastic stone and underlying hopeful chimes of music. A method to which leaves reality unclear, and insipid. Quite literally dull and un-vitriolic.

The time jingoes tore babies from teats, bounced sore bosoms, and buried John Doe’s in mass graves beside schools. Is long gone.

I live in a butterfly massacre.

Won’t you leave me alone

No please don’t go

I mean

Just stand there and let me think a minute

While I walk backwards out the door

This is my entrance in reverse

How I’ve turned myself into an optical illusion

Like the one with the mean old lady

Or is it the princess

Or

you know

the two old people in love

no

that’s not it

It’s the wine glasses

The ones I make you drink whiskey and beer out of

Because we’ve always thought it was classy

I’ve always fantasized about the ways I might leave this place

I have this black and white photo of you

And if I stare at the center of it for 3 minutes

When I shut my eyes I see you on the back of my lids

So what I mean is

You can leave now

I got my two left shoes

And my knapsack full of road maps

I always circle back sooner or later

I mean

You have that black and white photo of me too

And one of my right shoes

I leave things places

Just to come back for them

You’ve got the part of me that’s just off center

The parallel line that redefines my optical illusion

I walk backwards through doors

And run circles in floors

And drink whiskey from wine glasses

And I always come back

For the things I leave behind

/ShiˈTHi(ə)rēəl/
She·the·re·al:*  

Adjective
an extremely intelligent female who's true eternal beauty so delicate; the existences of her elements; too pure for the feeble appreciation of mortal beings. An abundance that exceeds that of a lifetime; breathes aire to throne, when bodies combine; redefines the confines of a lifetime; by spirit, body, soul, and mind.


Synonyms: grace, beauty, ****, elegant, unique, exquisite, fine, attractive, blessed, ******, intellectual, pleasure, presence, excellence, brilliant, woman, *****, confident, comments, sensitive.

And the sweat drips from your nose as the candlelit sun frames your face. As wax melts beyond our would and the light redefines where our bodies begin.

That is what an afternoon nap is all about

Poetry blows up
preconceptions, the dull,
At its best turns a tree to a spread-legged ******

Or takes simple stars and shrinks them to seem
        like our own little lives
Connected and finite.

Poetry redefines,
It stretches and yawns
As words painted anew
Blow up the canon.

8-26-08

"Welcome to the future"

reliable rocket ship trade routes, for any rich man.
Flying cars made with science that everyone pretends the myth-busters didn't invent first.
Dead rap stars and anime girls performing,
live on stage with smoke and mirrors
and a government that redefines the word Live,
and operates on smoke and mirrors

"Welcome to the future"

There is a company developing brain chips
so you can watch me climb this mountain,
just synch up with my vision
Also, while you're in my head
check out these commercials I'm hearing from the drone propaganda radios
Feel how this rock feels, synthetic and stamped with advertisements
smell what I'm smelling,
the propane, the soot.

You think this sounds crazy?
There's a little magic rectangle in your pocket.
to Record and send audio, take a photo,
we are halfway
we're just making every science fiction dream a reality

"we're so ******"

What's gonna happen when the world
runs out of dreams to make true?
marty mc-fly got his self strapping shoes, and also we got heelys
and sometimes we got self strapping heelies that glew in the dark
these things are ancient technology now
but we aren't far from the delorian

...or a nuclear apocalypse.

We have flying cars!
when we get flying houses, islands,
cities
when we populate mars
when we umbilicord ourselves to technological advances
hack, splice,
stich in memory chips, nerolinks
Who's gonna come up with the new dreams?

Who's gonna pen the next future
when everyone has seen the jetsons
outside their window.

Bring me the most creative,
innovative minds,
Untouched by the rhetoric
Who will be our new gods?
Will it be the artists?

No,
Bring me the Children.

"Welcome to the playground"

Words of aspiration graffitied on trump tower
Kaiju stuffed bears with saddles transporting business suit toddlers to their desks
where they draw, and draw, and draw
Mechanical dinosuars replacing trains.
Shutes and ladders everywhere
We will put our faith in mommy
and she will be beautiful
just like me.
we will pray to mother
she will rain affection
guide the pint sized diaper academy
while the adults sit in sensory boothes,
occulus rift 99.5.0 on their heads
feeding tube, cathader, an ash tray of tiny blue pills.
a small child hired to wipe their *** once in awhile,
for minimum wage
Which now is $200 an hour,
they still can't get health care
the lowest plan offers crayon insurance
that they can't use until they are promoted to artist

So they pray and pray to their mother religion
but mother doesn't exist here.

only birth robot
only television parasite
only plugged in queens and worker boys

we have the responsibility
to mold these tiny minds
if we **** up, remember
the fate of the world
was never in our hands
it was in very tiny hands
with pencils in them

"Welcome to the future"
"Welcome to the future"
"welcome to the future"

I've seen too many faces
but none I've recognized
it's this constant
lingering depression
that confines and redefines
screaming for a savior
the guilt invades instead
cursing out the voices
deep inside my head
I'd play this broken record
but it lies somewhat abused
never really noticed
it remains used and bruised
I try to get away
as my phone keeps on ringing
and the pain that I'm feeling
are the words that you're bringing
you tell me not to worry
but the worries in my heart
this darkness overwhelms me
it's weak I play the part
time is standing still
as I call for something more
but my hand is paralyzed
as I'm reaching for the door
so I turn and walk away
disappointed from the truth
waiting is my downfall
as I wait for something new
I slip to the rain
through the fog through the clouds
a ghost to my secrets
through the days I have found
nothing can compare                                                  
to these words that I'm living
the days that are dying
are the deaths that are giving

This might not be
what you want to hear.
But in your absence,
I flourish.
      I thought I would wither
like a languid lily
but instead, I have
perked myself up
       and glow,
without even
trying
like so many
    hydrangeas in the garden
Luscious, unfurling
Waxy in their freshness

So, my dear,
I will let you
flow out
      into your new sphere
as I
happily
flow into mine.
       Yes, a new adventure
that redefines

I have wanted you
for so **** long
and now ....

Well, just look!
Those light fractals
forming prisms of rainbows?
That is the health of me
and my soul
        My soul rising up above stars
finding me, again
So thank you..
This release is without anger, only love
        Will always love you
but letting you go
has been
        beautiful

When sharpness redefines thought the very nature of your surroundings take on new meaning that is still familiar but equally entrancing.

Sights are grander

Smells are more alluring

Sounds are more entrancing

Touch is more charged

And tastes opens new worlds to the soul.

These worlds lead into new found hope and aspiration.

The nature of the facts in sequence
Is that your desire to do increases dramatically but your desire to achieve falls short of the standards that you once aspired to.  These dreams are cast aside by an experience that comes at a price and is sold for a price.

Simple
Tasks

Are a challe-
nge


Friends are ostracized and you are cast out.

Alone in tour dark, mirrored coffin of your pleasure... and your shame

There, I whisper quietly
Words that make no sense
But have deep meaning
At the empty cup
of which I sipped the last possible drops
of my morning tea
Now all there is left in it -
The future built in healthy past
All the possible pasts
And the most deranged present
Probably,
The reflection is not true to me anymore

All these grounds of reality have sunk too low
And my expectations have rose so high
Sometimes I wish I was DC Comic Character
with flying abilities
and for some reason I am high
since few days
not because of some hallucinogens
No, Not the tea
of colourful thoughts painted in black and white dreams
The birds outside chirp in a strange tone
Like some mechanized toy
Its already hard to find a bird in my surrounding

The cup was long gone
Realizations failed to realize this event
Until I got off my  chair and
got a piece inside my skin

Dreams are just like that
They fall off without getting noticed
and they get shattered
You fail to realize until you start walking
after a long sigh, out of apprehension
after a short rest
and you have already missed your way
You get back just a piece of memory
Every moment redefines you
Every morning tea is a memory
Every cup is just a moment

night falls on hushed conversation
drifts of laughter, peals of attraction
a comparison of souls blush soft exhaled breaths
near touches, averted glances, reflections in eyes
we two together discover newness in difference
the evening becomes young and old,
lives flow on winds of exchange and openess
wax and wan a brilliant fascination
growth finds route in minds flickering between paths
oft ignored in ignorance and incredulity
sought by courageous sparks of life unafraid of
the imperial void.
soft sands eager to crush hard rock struggle to gain purchase
invariably falter and confess inability
spirit prevails above desire, ignites a passion
and redefines the concept of humanity.
born on the whims and compassion of lightyears of volatility
eventually delivers miracles in frozen seeds.
nurtured imagination ripens, shoots for the sky
believe what can come from eye contact inside two panes of glass

Aida* on stage,
brown queen's divine voice must climb,
for love redefines.

High on buds and shroomery,
High school, ecocentric, societal, communal groomery,
I will not fall for the foolery
I will be my own mind, never on time, **** the bell, class is dismissed, "Please be quiet"
**** that, scream and yell and on friday night mellow out with with some brain frying, mind opening hullicinogenetic pschyedelic relics
So on monday, when she says this is how it goes and you this is who you will be, you can take those words and completely rearrange every word and syllable into a collage of  realism V surrealism,
An acrostic organism or a cinqauin that so perfectly redefines your pain, a ballad for that one lucky human who, without, youd be nothing.

"In this land of confusion,
questioning this path that circles you.
Wondering if I have the strength to walk away."

This circle forms straight lines, each line redefines a secrete answer that it reveals.I listen through silence, search through darkness, for answers to the questions raining inside my head.When out of nowhere it provoked me, a sudden impact, opened my eyes and allowed me to see.
Some hesitation from this realization of what I failed to know;truth.
Right in front of me, it was there along and now I understand.

"There's been times I've been so confused,
but all my roads seem to lead to you.
It's to late to turn around and walk away."

Your like the sun a worship, I'm that plant making its complete round trip, orbiting around you.My centre, my whole inner being unzipped, the core of my existence; my heart.Without you I'd parish, taking away your love that dilutes my veins.Like without breath, how could my heart continue to beat be neath my chest?A future with you, holds me to this earth and gives me a life that has worth, in endless possibilities.

"At this time I've found the conclusion,
I walk down this road beside you.
Promising that I'll never lead you astray."

I want to love you
With a heart you don't think I real
Just so you remember how it feels to be loved

I want to give you things, that are not mine to give
I would lie, borrow and steal
If I could erase all that pain inside of you

You look at me, like there is something there
Something worthwhile, something good and honest and pure
And all I see is used goods, someone who has all but given up

You look at me with those beautiful, hazel eyes
Bearing your soul to me
I sold out a long while ago baby

You make me feel so **** much
I forgot how good it feels to be loved
But here I am, all bruised and broken

And there you are; so innocent, almost pure
Like I could be your everything
I want to lie down next to you, and never get up

I want time to stop for us
I want the world to melt away when I make love to you
Sweet whispers, grace those incredible lips

I am not worthy of this gift
I do not deserve to be worshiped, the way you worship me
I am not worthy of a love that redefines life

The way you redefine life for me
You let me do what I need to do, to feel alive to be here, present, happy
And I am screaming inside

Do you even hear my scream echo off the walls
Can you feel this pain, I feel it all but consumes me
The burden, I wear heavy on my heart

Can you see the pain concealed in my eyes
Do you have any idea the torment I am enduring
Is it my right to ask you to carry this weight with me, until I am strong enough to let go

Do you love me enough to be strong for the both of us
While I find my way back
From this long journey of wanderlust ?

In Love Spell
Your cup of beauty is like a divine wine
Your sweet figure is so pure and graceful
Beauty redefines the sweet love line
My love being faithful I am so grateful
My sweetheart you are like dawn of the day
For your charming playful graces I seek
Hide and seek iin a most sweet romantic way
Let us grow and glow to the highest peak
Let me love, praise and embrace in love spell
Let me praise your like an ancient deity
Let me be only yours land et me be infidel
Let us be the followers of spontaneity:
Colonel Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright July 2021 Love Remains

Cuts deep in the soul
Embeds itself below
Truest form burns when it 's let go
Exposes the core
Deeper then a sea, wilder then a storm
Purest form redefines the mind
Expands horizons
Love never lies
Never dies
Never hides
Love never demises
never stops you from rising
Love is joy that's binded
And I don't mind it
No, not at all
I love you I can say that standing tall.

I don't know what it is like to raise a child.
I praise all who have.
I lost my child.
I miscarried and lost the ability to ever hold that baby.
Ever look into their eyes.
See their smile.
Hear their laugh.

I do know what it's like to fear for your child.
Scream with everything in you for that baby to be safe and healthy.

I know what it's like to love your child.
Love them so much it redefines your understanding of love.

I know what it's like to know that you're creating a life.
That you'd do anything to protect that life.
You would give your own life for their safety.

I never had the chance to meet my child.
Though I felt that baby inside of me.
I feed that baby.
I loved with everything inside of me.
I would have given my own life for theirs.
So their eyes could meet the world.

I never had my baby.
Yet, that baby changed my entire life.
Changed the way I loved.  
The way I saw the world.
The way I looked at life.
Even though the time I had it, was short.
The time I knew I had it, even shorter.

I understand now that all parents do everything out of fear and love.
Anxiety over their child being hurt.
Going through the hardships they did.
Because they want their world to be bright and happy.
Filled with love.
So take a moment and be thankful for your parents.
Their love for you is one none can describe.

I loved my baby.
In a way no words will ever explain.