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LD Goodwin Mar 2013
Constantly my desire's mind spins ‘round
Oh lover, my feet dance above the ground
None can affect as this love I have found

Never before has life been so fine
Intoxicated by your lust filled wine
Eros and Cupid, oh help me pen this line

Are these birds singing just for me
Lo and sweet are their melody
Enchanted, enraptured by mind, soul and body

Newness in every tender embrace
Every breath, every sigh, every thought in its place
Gone are the questions, your touch did erase

Of passions, you have taught me well
Of desires, you have yet to tell
Do I tremble under your nakedness spell

Will you whisper in my deathbed ear
I love you and will always be near
Now let go, and do not fear
Harrogate,TN March 2013
Poetoftheway Aug 2017
"the ever shifting light of ourselves"
(a poem such as this)

For Jamadhi V.

<•>
8/28/17

at 11:09am,
the phrase arrests itself, then assertive,
ungently demanding fulfillment,
implanted, it cares not my whereabouts,
it is a child~phrase, inexact, mysterious,
wanting its breast milk feeding immediate
no matter where my presence visible

but to me, it stinks of familiarity,
for my shifts, my redrawn shapes,
exhausting, giving me cause to grieve,
write poems such as this,
which I regret both
before~after conception~completion,
written in a fevered misery of fervor,
hoping,
no one ever likes it and its witnessing

as light ever shifts,
it consumes, extinguishes, reignites,
poorly lit, revealing dregs and dustbins

better then to sit in the darkness
the one you call,
getting it over with...

6:00pm
<•>

~~~~~~~~

*the swelling and the spume


for Lucy:

who gave me the title, three poems, a compliment, and the X Factor {inspiration}
~~~
the spume, the sea foam concentrate,
a greener white
by the the salt and the souls of the
million dead organisms,
that are are the compost of its formation,
it, watches the poet, who watches the spume,
come ashore for its final act of
immolation by evaporation

which is why the random act of
an unseen ministering force,
fills my ears with humbling glory of
Samuel Barber's Agnus Dei,^
my fresh reminder that this swelling chest
in this temporary abode of mine,
by the sea, passage is prepaid for my
expiration by evaporation too,
all lambs march to the sea,
returning to spume
~
Lyrics to Agnus Dei:
^ Alleluia Alleluia
For our Lord God Almighty reigns
Alleluia Alleluia
For our Load God Almighty reigns
Alleluia
Holy Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
You are Holy
Holy
Are You Lord God Almighty
Worthy is the Lamb
Worthy is the Lamb
Amen

~~~~~~

"may all my lost lovers haunt me"

for Vinnie Brown

even your kindergarten crushes?

what burdens you seek to retain,
the edgy border of delicious and pain is a raggedy cut line,
as lost lovings rhymes with duality

Once upon a time,
a middle aged man
left the woman he married,
the one who drained and cruel reigned
over the destruction of his-dreams
for one accidentally stumbled into,
the love who blurred his edges as well,
between forgotten happiness and
pain so bad when she grew tired
of his life's complications and the
valises of drama,
she left him,
weeping on the corner of Broadway and 83rd Street

was that 20, 30 years ago?
a memory
from no matters land
but
the physical ache that marred the hearth in the chest for months and months,
sent him to the doc who smiled sweetly
but gave him, had no, no relief for busted grownup hearts
that had normal  EKG's

and that remains a treasured affirmation to this day of
life's capacity to love that comes with an ingrown danger
of never forgetting

did you know the French outlawed the use of the term
Mademoiselle in '12 (Mlle.)?

I loved that salutation,
calling my one true lovers
with the soft feminism of that address

and still do

and you want to recall
kindergarten crushes?

Mister Vinnie
possesses a lovely contradiction,
holding onto
lost lover sickness
that lives on in good love poems

this my new found poet
is how that he, this aching heart,
fast approaching his shore line for one last return and final departure
repays a sweet compliment,
from one who complements
another man's lovely's insane desire to
never forget any of it

~~~~~~*

reading love poetry and listening to
Joni M.,
at 3:09AM
never wise,
but always full of hindsight
Ron Sparks Apr 2016
steamy
beads of sweat
between her dusky *******
little rivers of pleasure
that collect in her navel
and threaten to spill with
each exhalation
distract me long enough
to avoid the
     little death
that look in her eye
seen only when
riding me
or on the back of
my motorcycle
    reignites my
passion and
all too soon
    I die
Axion Prelude Jan 2018
Stalwart embers forever light my heart; stoked by whispers of fate and grandeur, a flame reignites: so minute and fragile, it still holds great warmth; and forever shall I hold it close

Beseeched, I move toward distant hope that one day, my flame; my dear, we could together burn brighter than the sun
Brycical Dec 2012
Thoughts evolve--
some harden
it's not a restart--
--it's a re-tuneup
like a mitochondrion blast to the brain
unchained and unburdened
burping out old patterns
with unhinged words orbiting
Saturn's Rings
the Summer Breeze
keeps teaching me
and I to her
with burning clarity.

It's feeling silly slinging
cyclical prisons off mental cliffs
singing Hallelujah 'till New Year
in our own time
flying through space in her eyes
electrifying each other when I
sometimes understand arabic.  

There's a shift in the desert sands--
feeling rain as I dance on my mind's eye
like waking up from a hallucination
as the water reignites my earthy veins
burning brightly off my tongue
breathing fresh air upon
entering another vertical 27th dimension in space
cause our smiles done gone crazy  
like an azurite lightning strike to the brain!

The name whispered in my mind
by the Summer Breeze
cause I cool things down with ease
with my spiraling cyclical George Carlin cynical
thoughts marchin' causing revolution
within ourselves beating hearts bleeding art
singing blues getting lost in the dawn light sun
sparkling in our smiles smoking like a peace pipe
being passed around a campfire.
Harry Roberts Jul 2014
Silver tongue, a man of steel.
My heart was his to steal.
Eyes as warm as the summertime fire.
Eros reignites my burning desire.

Gold eyes and sugary sweet lips.
His velvet hands upon my hips.
My soul alight with intense desire.
He is oxygen fuelling the fire.

Bronze body and a body brawn.
He loves me until dusk and holds me till dawn.
Oh that face, an artist couldn't have drawn.
What a loveable mind that could leave a heart torn.
New to the site! :3
Vince Aug 2018
Disconnected but available
Alone but one of many
Smiling to those reading my words
Crying this side of the shiny screen

Feeds scrolling in front of our eyes
Organised randomness of peoples lives
Vague questions, happy memories and sad ones
Others trying to connect, to matter, to belong

We show only what we want seen
As if being held by viewers to some higher standard
Afraid to express our true selves
In fear of losing a friend we have never met

Logging out after farewells to those in foreign lands
The monitors glow extinguished
Days meld, loneliness is back
Waking on a new day that mirrors the last

Clicking a button a fan spins
The glow reignites the software boots
The browser loads, the friends appear
Its just another day, another year.
RisingUp Nov 2015
The demons are cackling
My self confidence is crackling

Weighing
     down
       my
         heart.

My disobedience they mock,
These imperfections are a shock.

As they shatter me apart.

Trying so hard to excel,
to be dropped in a well

What is any of this for?

To wallow in error,
Reignites the horrible terror.

Really, you should accomplish more.

They whisper negativity,
Prey on my insecurities,
Diminish my abilities,

A never ending cycle of not being good enough.
Not measuring up.

Perpetual exhaustion.
Perpetual dissatisfaction.
Perpetual degradation.

To fight this fight
To win this war
I must stay strong.
Let the positivity roar.
She holds me while I rest uncomfortably
She grabs my hand when I'm lost in dark places.
Her fiery spirit reignites the embers in my cold soul.
With a kiss on the cheek she gives me the wings
That I'll leave this dreadful mortal space with.
She makes smooth the splinters in my conscience.
When I kissed her again
The bed of nails I was doomed to fall on
Was transformed into a field of her favorite flowers.
She takes away my itch for the volatile substances I crave so badly.
She changed me.
She makes me who I am.
She screams and cries
But there's nothing inside.
She won't find what she's looking for,
Because she says that she "just can't anymore".

Her eyes search the floor,
Just to keep her safe,
She wants to keep her distance far away.

She screams, she cries
The nostalgia is building inside.
The girl tries to convalesce from her saudade.

Sometimes she feels big,
But her presence is small.
She screams and cries
That she's burning inside

Only her imagination can put out the flame,
But this only reignites it all over again.

She screams, she cries
She's nothing inside.
mark john junor Mar 2014
golden highlights in her hair
she is a poem in my dreams
written in the shadows of the world
filled with gentle light that is my world
she sat with me while i slumbered and we talked away
like the oldest of friends sharing the unfolding of our lives
the smile she has given
reignites my world
the warmth that she herself is
has rekindled my hope
she breaths life into the
mystical dreams of the world
with her giggles
she gives a rose made of smiles
to everyone she meets
her pen builds worlds
golden highlights in her hair
she is the poem of my dreams
every song i have ever sang
she is a living breathing sonnet of the world
written with such delicate beauty
with her heart
with her pen
i said to her
"you are a poem, written in the shadows
, full of light...beauty in all forms...."
each kiss is unique like a persons signature on your heart. the first kiss writes it down and it says to you don't forget me don't let me leave your heart. each kiss after reignites it like a hot flame and then when she leaves you it becomes like a burn it scabs over and blisters and the more you think about it the more you pick at it and reopen the wound but in the end its just a kiss isn't it?
Ella Gwen Jun 2015
Fix your smiles like sutures against my skin
pull back black hair, paint prides picture vain
he reignites present, sings such impeccable sin
as fresh pressed flesh weeps for him again.

I dissolve single stitches, you breathe them within
clasp palms and you sit, surrendering thy strain
raise wary hands to mine; all mine now to win?
you release, reach constrictions, rue me insane.

Keep rise rampant memory, fire fevered forged grin
best silent significance, now such rendered resting,
your words tripped dismissed long dead echoing din
riled love risked rages yes for true absence of him.
Lerin May 2014
Deep dark between those eyes that weep every night lies a tale never known, never heard by anyone.
I chatter as my wide smile fills the gap of sorrows.
I laugh , i laugh and laugh as if nothing could bother me.
I am your slave of agony every time you shed a tear.
I am nothing but a rose that lies between the piercing thorns, unwinding every thorn it pierces my skin, bleed i shall, because blood nor pain shall stop me from being the precious rose among the thorns.
I stand between the rival of your anger and ego.
I am the fire that burns your soul and water that cleanses your miseries.
I am the light that shades your fears and builds your strengths.
I am the the dome that you astray your secrets.
I am the demon that reignites the wicked of you. .
I am the brick that broke your walls.
I am the stranger that estranges your loneliness.  
I am the willingness to your foolishness.
I am the prisoner of your eternal love.
I am the prayer to all your unanswered happiness.
I am the forgotten.
Ethiiochick Oct 2015
Have your precious words bow down to my needs, were they can justify these undescribable feelings, you inflicted heavily upon me.
I need your words to purify this unjustified burden of the ever lasting beloved love.

Cleanse me with your beauty, for love could never speak the way you preach your angelic melodies.
I want you, to invest your hands deeply onto my hips and let your words be the music to my ears, while we slowly dance our fears away.

Your lustful voice reignites our love where it teaches us to overcome their false sincerity, were we classify as lovers of love.
You dominate me with your compelling eyes, ****** me with your trustworthy smile, and now I'm forevermore bound to this love of ours.


Only you could,
stimulate me with your charm,
interests me with your smile,
enchant me with your lips
and
hurt me with your kindness.
I only yearn, it all be from you.

Can you give me the power to defeat these troublous wishes and commends?

-Ethiiochick
Take what you need from this...
Miranda Lopez Dec 2013
In the house that took my baby teeth,
inside the room that saw my many tears,
my mind is unable to rest.
The teddy bear wallpaper I never wanted still
dances around the room,
constantly taunting and berating me.
Some nights it feels like a whisper,
and some nights it is a piercing scream
that tell of all the memories those walls hold.
Every time I think I have forgotten,
the house that took my baby teeth
seeps the fragmented moments back
into the fabric of my psyche and reignites
all of the lingering resentment that I keep
reigned in.
Shannon Jeffery Apr 2014
Today I reached deep in my pocket
In search of some new ideas
But all I grabbed a hold instead
Was a big handful of pocket lint

It seems I'm all dried up
For the scene of current days
Maybe that's where I should start
Inspiration from good ole times

But with good time memories
Few and far between
I reach into another pocket
And find a torn and tattered dream

A dream I thought was locked away
A time of pain and sorrow
The nightmare of a special day
One with no tomorrow

Unfolding it further it changed in shape
The way dreams so often do
It was then I let go in hand
And away the nightmare flew

With a Whoosh, Fizz, Crackle, BANG!!
Coloured lights entangle the night
Raining down a gracious song
Lost in awe my mind reignites
Thanks to Mike Hauser another wonderful collaboration.
David Leger Nov 2013
The sound of leaves
Listen as they whisper
To the wind of trees
Blow through the forest on through sorrow
Leaves that fall given back life they borrow
Wonder of the silence
And the subtlety of nature at rest
A moment of virtue
That remains uncaressed.
Beauty of endless autumn breezes
And cold quiet winter freezes
The birth of spring when nature reignites
And the setting sun of summer nights.
Stars gaze the earth as we gaze them
Wonders reflecting one another
Eyes, silver stare sight
Shining bright in the watery night
Like a silent black sea unbroken
Holds most beautiful words unspoken.
My Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/DarknessFallenBlog
Amanda Stoddard Oct 2014
when the skies get gray and the sun burns out-
I will always take you with me.
when the smile from your face fades
and your life is nothing but a hollowed out memory-
I will always take you with me.
Maybe indecision is still a decision
but this body yearns for your touch-
and I can't shake the feeling.
when I'm with you every inch of my being
feels whole again, and I am who I've always wanted to be.
you never hold back, or tell me half truths-
so I will always take you with me.
when the sun reignites and the sky is a lighter shade of blue-
I will always have you
whether next to me or in the back of my mind
I will always take you with me.
I still look at you like you're the only one in the room-
even if you're too busy with insecurity to see
but I will always take you with me.

But you-
you seem to look at the other-side and don't realize-
these words are not just words
they are everything I feel for you-
since the first day I knew.
I hope you realize this
and I hope you never forget
I have and always will-
love you.
Jen Dec 2018
Sun dances down
To nightfall.
A storm simmers,
Pressure before
Kettle boils, over.
Rapidly low-lit
Linear outline,
Reignites
Lightning bolt.
Downpour wet,
Opposing silence,
Crashing sounds
Resound,
Not quiet.
Take shelter quick.
Winged dove,
Flies from a
Symbolic hand in glove,  
No need to fight this.
It's Life Force.
Listening to "Immortal Lover" by Andrew Bayer feat. Alison May
summer Sep 2016
The shaking starts, my hands,
The nausea kicks in, my stomach,
The pain reignites, my heart,
The emptiness echoes, my head,
The numbness screams, my mouth,

The shaking spreads, to my body,
The nausea get’s worse, my throat,
The pain feels good, my skin,
The emptiness explodes, my heart,
The numbness feels warm, my lips.
my dire
hard part
will sing
this tract
with her
heart there
with me
only time
will enhance
her taint
that my
incandescent voice
then reignites
miracles whence
my holistic
nobility reigns
alight sighing
Sandra Ostrander Apr 2019
Cancer called for me.
I wish I hadn't answered.
It wanted too much.

Chemo is brutal.
It wanted to take me out,
But that's cancer's job.

Radiation *****,
Fries you from the inside out;
It's sneaky that way.

Cancer - just a word;
Until it silences me,
I give it no voice.

That silly cancer
Tries to kick my ample ***...
Good luck with that, *****!

Cancer takes a break.
Is it gone or just hiding?
I'll know soon enough.

Here I am again,
Caught in cancer's undertow.
Will I sink or swim?

Poison floods my veins.
The death battle reignites.
Will I win this round?

Snowflakes at window
Beg me to come out and play.
If only I could...

Hey, cancer... hear this!
You **** a big bag of *****.
I'm coming for you!
I love haikus. Sometimes I think in them. These are about my ongoing battle with cancer.
Happynessa Mar 2016
My soul longs to express itself in creative ways
I need to infuse artistry into my life
Naked expression makes me feel alive
Reignites passion to a weary body

Lifes very essence is a remarkable energy
A field that will respond to loving care
Activating a heart torn or tattered
Shielding the soul with love

In rhythmic cycles of balance and growth
Appreciating the gifts within
I seek the highest energy of all
Staying centered in my souls joy
I'm no poet but I know what I want to say **
Nora Jan 2015
Ash
I would like to let you know the heroes that were going to save you have disappeared.

Darling,
Your eyes have dried out and you’re way too young.

You’re a child and I'm not a child any more.

You were a fire burning bright,
and I hope the little spark in me reignites.

You have grown weaker, my little heart, the weight of your guilt was too heavy.

You wont stop playing with the flames,
and my child I can’t feel the heat any more.

My love, my flesh and bone.

The fire will burn out,
and the ash and coal.

The harsh bright lights and here comes
the wake up call.
anya Jul 2018
you've been distant.
sparks still fly,
the fire still burns,
but that's a given,
you laced your words with them.
i thank you, nonetheless.
we always built this fire
to teach it not to go out,
but i was always the one too damp for sparks.
the burning was still,
all was in tact,
and i make myself believe it still is,
but that ******* storm brought mighty wind,
and the fire is still no more,
it dies down,
goes smaller,
the room darkens,
and panic rushes in,
filling up my blood.
but the fire fights,
and that one glorious spark
reignites this fire.
it is not as great,
but it's here,
and so are you.
sometimes i look at us,
and i notice
the candle seems to be running out,
and "it's fine," we say,
but is it really?
so i gather sticks and rocks and ask you,
"dear, are you happy?
or do you stay just for me?"
the fire grows smaller.
"do you still love me?"
the candle runs out.
rusty.
insomniatrical Feb 2018
Everything I touch is destroyed
Why is time like quicksand?
It slips through my fingertips
It's getting out of hand.
My dreams burrow themselves in the dark
And hide until I can find them,
Until I make a spark.
The flame in my heart
Reignites and I start
To find myself believing
That no longer I am grieving,
The words in my head
Form these strings and these threads
That I'm better off dead
But I fight them again
And with bravery I said:
"I Can"
Tess Kent Apr 2017
I pity him because I feel him.
I am him.
I've forgotten what it means to be intimate and nothing compares to the sincerity in their eyes as you sit and curse your family for why you're sad
and blame your ex for every self-destructive measure.
They say it'll be okay and mask that pain with an embrace; the most temporary of bandaids.
You won't remember it the next morning when you're hungover,
but it stopped hurting for a second.
Intimacy is the morphine for those who seek an end.
He seeks it, I seek it.
It prolongs the end as it reignites the hope something (someone) new will save you.
But they disappear after every Saturday night so you spend that next week drowning in that wave until she drags you by your hair from the water that next Saturday evening.
Every time she has a different face, laugh and taste in her mouth which will soon be washed out of yours because that wave will only cleanse out your insides again in a matter of hours.
She's brutal and violent; a hurricane on dry land.
The drowning is painful, but her ever changing existence fills your lungs with more oxygen than learning to swim on your own could ever give you.
Elexer Mar 2018
The slow dive
Below the surface of the night
An undertone
The moonlight
A flaming ember reignites
And blows out cold
I'm barely holding on
You were the only one
You were the only one
Words from Skyhill
Mary Gay Kearns Mar 2018
At certain moments
All that you are stops,
Like the falling of plates
Crashing onto alabaster
A tingling, biting into walls
One is pricked, ****** sore.
Unable to find bearable bearings
In the harvest of despair.
It takes a very long stretch to
Get together a pair of shoes
And walk that first mile.
How many times does a person endure
Before becoming a chip of china,
So sharp it would ****.
For most the brain rearranges and
The pilot reignites
But sometimes , just occasionally,
One dies.

Love Mary ***
Jane Oct 2019
Hot flames lick up my belly and ribs
Digits dance along my thighs
Curl inward
Gasp.
Lust metallic on my tongue
Desperation seeping
A white knuckle ride
Buck.
Wound tight and buttons press
Unlocking ancient truths
Old as time, new as dawn
Tense.
Chasing that wave as it swells
From the feet and up through
Every nerve ending
Breaks.
Heat radiates and sweat pools
Evidence of the relief
As the fire reignites
Again.
Michael Marchese Apr 2021
No plan to back up
All you’d lose
Just haven’t yet
Learned to refuse
The risk adrenaline
Incites you,
Tempers you,
And reignites you
So exciting,
Then it’s not
Now failure
Perforates the plot
And disappointment
Disapproves
Embarrassment
Disquietudes
Can’t even watch the morning news
Without your judgment
And disdain
An older form
Of growing pains
Would not dyspeptically
Emerge
In caffeinated stressors
Surge
Convergent point
Of no return
Satsih Verma Mar 2021
Unmasked from
face to consciousness. Transition always
hurts. Pans out in blood.

You cannot sing in the
throes of selfism. The sacred water
reignites the love. You put ashes aside.

The words are nomadic.
Kissing or burning the cracked lips.
I may be hot or cold.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
one of those beautiful nights...
    there's absolutely nothing to write...
memories keep flooding in:
coagulating, constipating me with
inactivity:
    perhaps this comes off as a complaint:
sure... a complain of a workaholic-alcoholic
nights like this i wish my wages weren't
stalled by 2 months and i could
take the bus to the brothel and
snuggle...
            pretend that smoking cigarettes
gives you the limp when it fact
withdrawing from smoking and then
a cigarette during ******* reignites
passions...
          lazily: oh too lazily...
                    perhaps reading some Ovid might
help... i need to finish his ****** poems
before i take to Zhuangzi all the more seriously:
i tried doing what some people do:
reading several books simultaneously...
at least today one thing came close to
an intimate contact with a woman...
8am sharp... at the hair-dresser...
  her floor-sweeper brought in her puppy...
such tender hair... cocker-spaniel...
i picked him up and snuggled her
before sitting down in a chair... closed my eyes
and talked blah blah this... blah blah that...
my hairdresser already knew my passion
for cycling: she recently picked it up...
then breakfast back home...
  and two decent hours spent watching
the world championships in athletics from
Oregon... then bottle recycling...
then... ooh... at my most "*** starved"
i conjured up the idea that getting a beard trim
is almost on par with oral ***...
i still think so... it certainly beats a haircut...
and no one does it better than a Turk...
by the end of it i looked like i slimmed 5 kilograms...
which was great: my cheeks and neck could
breathe again...
i just sat in the chair without talking...
just the casual hello... and he already knew
what i wanted...
                          i must have one of those
faces you can't forget... or one of those faces
that's familiar... or one of those faces you want
to punch... but i didn't ask for a hot towel...
i've never seen anyone of English heritage
get a Turkish towel treatment...
a menthol infused towel gets placed over your
head only exposing your nose to breathe...
while the barber turns to massaging your arms
and hands and fingers...
maybe i should go visit a massage parlour
for real... it's only half the price...
and i might just feel that much better than having
to pretend i'm competing for "something"...
beside my own egoism...
then again: and you will know the difference
between good AND evil...
              clearly i'm not the one to know...
it's not a clear-cut case of GOOD or EVIL...
the terms diffuse from their absolute pyramid
scheme into the subtler matters of the mind...
i can feel: negation-prefix-action:
i can feel: DISgust (disgust)
  i can feel: disagreement
              i can feel... disingenuousness....
as it stands? there no good or bad...
there's: THAT and DIS (phonetically THIS,
since THIS is not implying theta...
    for that? a missing T... i.e. fist)
                  women's Euro finals on the 31st
of this month... get paid on the 1st...
i still don't know why of all the people employed
around the same time as me
i'm the only one with an employee status
while everyone else is self-employed...
writing invoices...
someone working this job for 12 years
asks me why i've been made a supervisor after
no qualification being granted for me and having
only worked: since last December...
    maybe my grandfather taught me something
more indispensable than anything "said"
person might learn...
i want a heart of emptiness...
              i want the wind in my heart
with an easier beat to the sometimes: thumping of
my head as nothing comes knocking
in a manner that's: wake up thinking...

ah! now i know what prompted me to write
something today... my father was getting
a haircut prior to me...
i stalled my "styling" sessions by ordering
a can of Fanta and a white coffee two doors down...
i sat down at a table outside the cafe
and downed the can of Fanta...
bad idea... it was the first thing i ingested
in the morning... i finished it... started smoking
a cigarette, started drinking the coffee...
opened the newspaper an skimmed reading
news: eh... the world? same old... same old...

die welt: gleich-alt... altgleich...
"quizzical" and at the same time queasy...
i need to feel better...
i'm not going to pretend to feel better by just
sitting there trying to keep it all in...
this article prompted me:
Janice Turner: Soldiers should not be buying sed
anywhere...
i need to puke my guts out...
so i walk across the street and enter a cornfield
and start puking my guts out...
this bright orange mix of phlegm and bubbles...
ooh... release... now all i need to do is
grab a loaf from my *** while sitting on the thrones...
how i managed to sit through a session
of hair-cutting i will never know...

the day ended with me watching French women
batter the Dutch women at football:
deservedly...
so hold on: because this article stuck with me
for the entire day...
if soldiers should not be buying *** anywhere?
what about civilians?
i started thinking about the alternative reality...

women have all the agency in the realm of ***...
right up to the point of being the ones favouring
infanticide: she sleeps with a loser...
gets pregnant: termination:
because the "loser" is not geared up to shackles
and commitment of... whatever...

"research" shows trading money for consent
reduces empathy:
so does meal-tickets... dating...
trading free meals for *** reduces both
empathy and: trust...
                that's why when i read a newspaper
i skip all the news and go straight into
the editorial section: the opinions...
opinions?! ugh... in journalism that's synonymous
with unchallenged dialectics...

i think this "article" prompted the morning
sickness more than the can of Fanta...
i felt sick...
i find a £1000+ mobile phone in a supermarket...
i cycle home with it... it starts ringing with:
mommy... title for the ringer...
i get a churning in my stomach...
i can't rob a child of a mistake she'll learn from:
that... not everyone in society will do this...
hand in a lost phone...
best to get her hopes up...
at least i won't be the one disappointing her...
like that Iron Maiden song: afraid to shoot strangers...

yeah... that's what got me all weird and jittery...
soldiers should not be buying *** anywhere?
what about civilians? are, they, still, allowed?
or are we in a one massive ******* nunnery
of western women's feminism?!
*** is ***... *** is bad when its exchanged...
but good when it's free in *******?
a next: elevated ******* harem of would-be eunuchs?!

what if you buy ***... but at the same time...
manage to give a ******* an ****** by performing
oral *** on her? lies?! LIES! LIES! LIES!
she's always faking her ******* ******:
just like the woman is faking her pregnancy:
with "you": but not "him"... right?
the oldest story in the book of fairy-tales...

better *** work than journalism...
once upon a time there was journalism...
now journalists enter the realm of a secular priesthood...
who are these pope-editors?!
humanity has returned to a secular-religiosity...
it's that ******* plain and simple...
it took me a day to react...
i wanted to enjoy the day....
watch some athletics... some female football...
water the garden... cook a bbq...
the usual ****...
  but when you wake up with headlines:

MAN GIVING A WOMAN AN ****** = BAD...
you're like? well then... the next best "thing"
is probably killing her: so she shuts the **** up...
you don't play "sane" psychological dissonance
with a misdiagnosed schizophrenic:
someone with a psychotic "disorder":
you dye you hair pink or purple
and build up weird ****** expressions:
and shut the **** up...

          and you start listening to God-Smack:
esp. the song: stay away...

    if it weren't for Turkish or Romanian prostitutes
i'd still be an "incel"...
                        to hell with that...
that's paradoxically the "west" in a nutshell:
it wants both the superiority in morality
and a superiority in stressing its pillar of individualism:
which is supposed to be freed from
moralism... or did i get something wrong?

my morality? if i find money?
you're not going to find it or therefore get it back...
money is money...
i use money to turn a stone into a plank of wood...
even though the stone is not exchanged
for a plank of wood...
money is money is money...
money is also time...
  money is emblem... money is the fingernails
of Mammon...
                why do all frauds happen in
the realm of the credit system?
why don't i use the credit system?
for all the gained security...
              there's less self-awareness within the credit
system... ergo? i've primarily focused on
the debit system: i spend what i have...
i spend what i own...
                      i've stopped using the credit system
donkeys' years ago...
    who's going to scam me? who's going to bribe me?
to use the debit system implies:
you have to be the person using
the debit card... anyone can apparently use
a credit card...

here: a schematic...

body-shadow... hmm... what language will i chose?
the usual...
i like squares:

body                            ghost





breath                          shadow


breath being interchangeable with soul...
ergo?

leib                                  geist





atem                                shatten...

  (
seele... somewhere donw the line...
                    )

so what the **** are we supposed to do?
can civilians "buy" ***? what the **** are we "buying":
we're certainly not buying what being in a relationship buys...
being a married man you're not buy whiskey...
you're not buying vinyl records...
you're not buying bicycle spare-parts...
you're buying?! lip-gloss... too many *******
kitchen equipment...
i... i seriously don't want to earn money to do that...
******* THICK SKULLS!
women pretend they become... ******* Albert Einsteins
in the biology department very: clearly: early...
and then lose all their sensibility...
i need 20 hunting dogs...
i don't need a woman... i can cook food for myself!
what are these lunatic Lucy types thinking?!

here's a worthwhile review:
ALL WARS SHOULD BE FOUGHT WITHOUT ANY
VIOLENCE ANYWHERE!

ha ha... ha ha!
no sentence should be stringed with grammatical
intelligence: since the time immemorial
concerning a Helen of Troy...
war was not ***?!
right... so... currently... the un-****** women
get to dictate to the "*****" women
what... ******* is?
all of them are ***-starved: petty paupers?
*** is no fun?
  it must be primed: based on the focus
of a prim?
                          there needs to be an awe aspiring
consensus of the ******* "sisterhood"
oh **** me... i really must have missed
the shady alleys and brothels and forgot
about the leisurely activities of "proper" women:
the sort that prescribing announcing
themselves to the gig economy stewards:
but i'm a law graduate student:
i forgot to tell her...
i'm a former  chemistry student...
you're not half way from floating my boat...
but i'm pretty sure you'll find your
African anti-racist commodification you wish
to find... ergo? i don't give a ****...

seriously, by now?
          i start waving my hands in the air like
i just don't care...
i'm looking elsewhere... Turkish... esp. Turkish...
i'm looking for a second schism in Islam...
i have "plans"...
                
ugh... African women? i don't find them attractive...
does that does make me "racist"? ah ha ha...
                  how-z'ah... how-z'ah...
you find tapeworms attractive...
i'd love to pet a hyena...
  almost like a dog...
                          
well... wouldn't you know: with article such as these:
#metoo can die a silent death...
with opinions like these:
unchallenged...
no... nope... i don't want to **** these women:
i best avoid them...
              i won't want to touch these women
with these kind of opinions...
i want them in the ******* nunnery of both the physical
sense and in the sense of ideas...
what for? soi defensive...
            i'd rather wrestle with a dozen of Rottweiler
cubs... for fun... than **** a woman like that...

to hell with the imagination of 72 virgins:
they must be all middle-Eastern...
they can't be Western...
just give me a dozen of Rottweiler cubs...
i just need that...
                            i know how to orientate my thrills...
they are never enough...
            but i know what's enough:
give me a dozen of Rottweiler cubs...
and go **** yourself and your harem...
no... because: that's not how it works...
it works via "X"... and the said "X" is: said X...
which is this.

— The End —