after that i'll let you wear my kneecaps for
prayer after that pagan harlot of a wife told me
it didn't rain because i wasn't a good enough ventriloquist
to her schizophrenia. i mean: **** just never stops!
(i actually like this line, apologies for vain-thought).*

"68% of Canadians respondent said that minorities
should be doing more to fit into mainstream society
instead of keeping to their own customs and languages..."

53% of American dittoed likewise...*

              a failure of multiculturalism is a failure
because: it didn't celebrate bilingualism -
i call that the Gaelic effect in Scotland just so
you know it was spoken in over-shadowed Gaelic
within a Glaswegian dialect...

  multiculturalism failed because it was easier to
make a lot of people deemed as schizophrenic
rather than have the ability to be bilingual...
multiculturalism is a failure because it made bilingualism
taboo and instead said: ah... be bisexual!
multicultural societies actually gambled on bisexuality
being more needed than bilingualism,
and anyone still bilingual and not bisexual
was ripened to be harvested by psychiatrists.

but i do wonder what these post-colonial societies
would have made of what the natives might have asked
them...
              i think the natives of America would have liked
the immigrants to appropriate at least some of their
cultural traits... and no keep them in natural reserves like
some talking monkeys...

it's not enough that i have to give up a part of my soul
that i then have to twang the tongue like a banjo
with all that Texan ma'am ******* like those Arabs
in Lebanese American Universities...
oh please, stop this *******,
   i'm puking with the French on the question:
if globalisation is to be arrived at, why is English
the language of choice in achieving it?
              it's not a minority language, that's for sure...
the most poker-laden expression? sure, it is...
but i thought that within a framework of globalisation
(as Napoleon said): if a man speaks two tongues
the first head of the hydra is cut, and two emerge,
hence            the ambiguity of god
      and the proud expression of lizards
and their spies (cats) and why the first letter of
the tetragrammaton is shaped as      Y....
          hence the ambiguity of god and his Machiavelli
in terms of whether there is a world beyond this
one, and whether that diabolical Machiavelli (in all
his despair) did so on purpose to show god the sifting
process...
                    yes, that face of the marine iguana:
smiles like a cat,
              sitting proud on the rocky beach...
yet it has unfamiliar mammalian eyes instead of
those slit-eyes of noon akin to serpents and cats...
            and as Machiavelli said: first time round was great,
second time round: i just don't understand why your
first incentive is somehow better?
        they simply can't know if the first version
is better than their own...
         got to feed them the knowledge of nothing,
so at least they can better what they're been given...
as did Milton, make him less of the two evils...
   what with inhospitable earth and the dream of
colonising mars... or as the history of stars suggests:
stellar evolution sort of does away with Darwinism...
Darwinism is the one form of paper that you
wipe your *** with... it's not a napkin for your mouth:
that ****'s for your ***.
                 at the centre so too iron: as in haemoglobin.
     and we never say stars in a constellation of stars:
those are white dwarfs...
                 is our stellar nebula origin to be resurrected
for a moment into a planetary nebula and then into
stellar ivory of the dwarf?
     personally i think we'll end up being a black hole
unless our right / left politics will lead us into ending
as a neutron... which can only be seen with subatomic
particle goggles... of when Mars and its two moons
housed all thing stable, we are at the stage of the dying
star: hence all our Apocalyptic thinking and bring together...
   Mars experienced the average / massive stage of
a star's life... it's the only planet that shares our common
thread of being solid rather than gaseous...
                    Mercury is equivalent of being the sun's moon
and not a planet if Plato is a declassified planet...
         that's my suspicion concerning u.f.o. sighting and
governments showing us the output of NASA
and then lying that they have this "capacity"...
    old Martians... after all: there were only volcanos on
earth, and then the dinosaurs...
      ******* about with time gets you into these
custard clots of: huh?! i didn't invent the Darwinistic
concept of history worthy noting, Darwinism invented
itself, it's just that after being popularising
the humanities' aspect of the theory came once
the science was debunked... which always sounds like:
see next year, after they told you i'd be
       using a chicken leg fibula for a toothpick:
oh sure, let's get together the Friday after that,
by then i'll be scratching one twig against another twig
to get the fire going...
             after that i'll let you wear my kneecaps for
prayer after that pagan harlot of a wife told me
it didn't rain because i wasn't a good enough ventriloquist
to her schizophrenia. i mean: **** just never stops!
the point is: multiculturalism failed because
  it created a toxic environment for language...
it didn't respect bilingualism...
         it respected bisexuality: isn't that the talk of the town?
all your home-grown terrorists? they only speak
a few words of Arabic... they have been harvesting
the toxicity of a multiculturalism that didn't deem
two language in man to be acceptable...
        and no one cared for the trade benefits?!
how the **** did they miss that sort of plus?
         surely if you're going to trade with the Chinese
you'd send a merchant to China who spoke Mandarin,
and not Swahili, right? common sense.
   if the multiculturalism of England embraced my
bilingualism, i'd be selling English crap in Poland
and perhaps vice-versus... but they said: nope, nadda,
n'ah... you schizoid... da' ****?!
               oh right, so i'm a slot machine or earnings or
those ******* farmers of the urban wheatfield of
thought that psychiatrists are?
   am i talking Dutch or something? me integrating
not good enough? a multicultural system that doesn't
respect bilingualism... deserves what history gives it;
and by now... i'm at Drury Lane: fanning the flames.

Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;aopicho@yahoo.com)
The Al shabab on 22 day of September 2013   attacked Kenya again. It has attacked and lynched siege on the Nairobi’s biggest mall known as the West Gate. This is one of the severest after other similar attack in 1998.The people who are averagely assumed to be killed are  one hundred.Al shabab is a regional east African arm of Arabo-islamic global terrorist group known as the Algaeda.But something notable about all the terrorist groups in the world, inclusive of Alshabab, is that they all have an Arabic, communist and Islamic bias with overt expression of anti-American movements.
The Lynching of the Mall in Nairobi has affected all the Kenyan communities. Asian and African, Europeans and Americans. However the survivors of the West Gate mall attack has narrated out that the attackers were discriminately asking for ones religion before they shoot. Thus Muslims were not shot but non Muslims were shot and then held hostage. The military sources on the site shared out that the terrorists were foreigners but they perfectly worked through their plan through co-operation of locals and citizens of a victim countries; Kenya and America.
Immediately after this terror attack in Nairobi, a group of social researchers in Kenya carried out an electronic survey on the social media to find out why the Alshabab has easily recruited the followers and why an African youth can easily accept recruitment in to the membership of terror groups like Boko haram, Al shabab, and Al gaeda.The responses gathered from diverse digital socialites  skews into one  modal direction which  shows that America alone with its ostentatious international relations  will not win the war on global terrorism.
The motivation for easy recruitment into membership of the terror groups was established by the social media survey as diverse factors but most august among them are ; extreme conditions of poverty among the youths in contrast to the rich and wealthy elderly echelons of the most African societies. Also, sharp contrast in the economic conditions between America and Africa where American societies wallow in extreme riches whereas the African societies contemporaneously are stark deep in idyllic poverty perpetually wallowing in the mire of need and economic challenges. Some respondents cited the crooked way through which the state of Israel was formed as well as the atrocious nature of American foreign policy towards the Arab world through which there was perpetration of killing of Muamar Al Gadaffi and regular Military bombardment of Arab countries like Syria and Afghanistan.
Also the current American presidency and the preceding one of George Bush provoke distasteful responses on the social media. Especially in relation to the Prison maintained at quatanamo bay which basically was established as a basic torture facility used by the American government to torture terrorist suscepects from North Africa, Arab emirates and Europe. But the prison at Quatanamo bay is composed of a large number of North African as detainees. A respondent on the social media quoted Pravda, the Russian Newspaper in English version which had a revelation about the Quatanamo prison. The Pravda projected number of North Africans in the Quatamo prison to be currently standing at one hundred and thirty seven. The Newsweek also concurs with this position by narrating in its july 2013 edition that, there are very many prisoners of North African descend in quatanamo prison who began a hunger strike sometimes ago but they are forcefully fed through a tube.

The facebooking ,tweetering and charting thematically show one modal position that American discriminatory foreign policy towards Israel and Persia, American extreme capital amid critical world poverty, poverty in Africa especially among the youth, presence of weapons of mass destruction in Israel to which America is oblivious or nonchalant  ,Russian technological casuistry and Chinese economic dominance combine into a blend of extensive anti-American feelings that  make the world youths not reliable when it comes to the moral duty of desisting from joining the terrorist groups. American hard politics and hard diplomacy will make America not to win war on global terrorism.

Look here,
"What's your major?"
What's that got to do with me,
Much less petty.

I'd like to start a trend
(sure why not everyone)
To reply to this friend-
ly under-toned question:

"Get to know me first
and find out for yourself".
One Little Outburst,
Yet...

Laden with the unimaginable
never-ending, tortuous self-criticism
(Okay maybe not for everyone,
But it sure is asked to the infinite brim)

Such a question should be offending,
Even if one really is deeply involved,
A person cannot be defined
Or confined to one thing.

To give credit to the inquirer
Default to the English language
Commonly used here
Which is to say this garbage:

"I know you study various topics,
but what is your focus?"
Poor inquirer rarely asks; thus,
As the respondent would rather;

"What is it you are
passionate about?"
It May Be A
Far              
                                                              
C­ry
For the inquirer
to cite some
Inductive reasoning here.

Oh! The respondent is
(Emotionally defensive)
Suspicion of someone who majors in
Something that is not practical.

This cannot be the case,
Especially with the nerve,
For it is not known
What people gown

Discriminatory in nature,
To ask and to reply,
Results in a label or a lie...
Fermented questions mature.

Now we mustn't run around questions;
Answers must stand and must move on.
In writing we have the privilege of inspection
We do not in speaking.

The question is a contraction--
Heuristic--or
Lasting impression of post-industrialism:
Simplify collectivism!

Prefers the blunt conversations
From points A to B;
Linear  
Mathematics.

"True" or "False" prefers
Complexities to be imagined;
Respectively refers
Anthropomorphically confined.

Prefers the contractions simply
It flows out of the mouth.
Practical of common wealth
This person is not hardly.

Prefers this heuristically;
The pragmatician short cuts.
Anxiety becomes too much
To express oneself truly.

Enough character of inquirer,
Discrimination is offensive.
Most students by default of most schools
Study various topics; in which is called

"Breadth requirements",
Should also be re-termed as
"Breadth opportunities".
Life: an example of experiences.

Study has no differentiation; 
What is lived is learned.
But why the separation?
Opposing ends, family and education.

Not for long, and
Not for everyone;
What learned is lived, and
Which lived hammered nails for shelter. However,

Though we may want and try to be experts,
Every field must settle for mediocrity.
Every person must make decisions
Of time and money, indeed.

There is truth to every major, like a stem cell
Mitosing daughters--any cell and of itself;
**** sapiens study
Human tools.

Hard or soft;
Art or science;
Weeds or grass,
Fruits or vegetables;

Right or wrong
We test the theorem.
So now can you
Guess my major?

To say one thing to the world?
A daunting task.
I can scarcely know what the world needs,
Sitting here,
In this country,
All my life.
But
I do know what America needs,
And by extension,
Maybe the world, also.

Fellowship.
Not the kind that is forced by governments,
Who would take from hard workers
And their families to provide for others
In harsh times.
That is false,
And only plants resentment.

No,
We need a common fellowship of man,
Where men give of themselves and their efforts
Not because they were required,
But because they were respondent
To the human condition.
Everyone picking each other up when they fall,
And only expecting the best of their neighbors.

In a world like that,
There would be no depression,
No charity cases,
No forgotten souls,
Just love
And Fellowship.

You are at it again, pretty sure, this time, challenging a wave, or a tension in space when from a vertical, trying to reach ground safe. You always were.

In deep collision of structures, the agent here is something that stops you from stoppage. You go, lessening the trauma, impelled by a similar origin to overwhelm and afterwards leave famished. As long as there is enough moving ground for you in a subtle field effect, it is very sure you will last longer than any rain in this moderate climate. I can imagine all the broken twigs you stepped on, making a dull orchestra out of. Your day-tired wander-wearied jacket after, and all the dust that remained within the sole of your boot when the Earth trembled – kept you still within the splintering of finite objects.

You are at it again, heeding the call of the world, assuming a shape of a moment you said you had in your hands, small enough to fit a chamber of a gun, and when fired, cuts through, is deep, meeting an attempt to touch secret parts but didn’t, only scored, and when realized,

taken as document within conversations.

Virus that are taking lives
Being a Respondent takes responsibility in what they provide
Bringing help in hope right away
No days off being a getaway
This virus is no ordinary day
It’s about saving lives
But sometimes it is not quick enough
We are not making excuses and a bluff
As a Respondent, we take all our jobs serious
There can be stress but we don’t get furious
Sometimes tired and weary
At other times of patient death, we get teary
But it is a daily mission to pull through
We continue on
As a Healthcare, Policeman and Firemen professional knowing we are needed and belong
We keep our mind and body strong
It’s a mission that has lasted so long
But responsibility is whom we are about
Sustaining life is on the line
Because we could be patients ourselves
The Coronavirus doesn’t look for a name
But it’s the cure being the aim
We won’t stop until our job is complete
A sunrise with a hopeful tomorrow now wouldn’t that be neat
We are definitely overworked, but there is a job to do
Each day is a challenge we go through
We stay focused no matter what
Thank you with your heartfelt applause
But as a Respondent, it is about the cause
Coronavirus time frame to move out
It’s the vaccine I am talking about
It’s a matter of when
Moving outdoors when can
Then with continued hope, this Coronavirus can finally end.

No one may contest that a contract existed
Between my client and the respondent;
This much is beyond debate,
Nor did the plaintiff in any way compel
This miller’s-daughter-***-queen in any manner,
Unless one contends that providing a vehicle
To obtain all that she had ever desired
Somehow equates to coercion.
As to my learned colleague’s claim
That the imposition of so-called usurious terms by my client
Serves to render the agreement null and void,
May I remind you that at no point in this affair
Did the respondent decline to accept the quid pro quo;
Indeed, she happily re-negotiated the terms of the very pact
She now seeks to vacate!

Ah, opposing counsel claims, my client fulfilled the agreement
In accordance with the law.
I must say, rather sadly,
I find my distinguished friend’s definition of fulfillment
Very odd, indeed, as if the employment of industrial espionage,
Illegal trespass, surveillance methods of dubious legitimacy
(All of which were undertaken
To surreptitiously provide his client with such information
To exercise the out-clause of the agreement)
Is something the court should embrace
As a matter of statute or accepted practice.

Again, members of the jury, I know where your sympathies lie.
All along , opposing counsel has implied
We should celebrate his client’s pluckiness,
Her cunning and initiative,
Her stunning journey from rages to riches.
My friends, I would argue this;
There is, indeed, a moral to every story,
Are our obligations and promises, at the end of the day,
No more than the interview portion of some beauty pageant,
Where long blonde hair and a winning smile
Serve as just cause to blithely disregard those oaths?
Are the most sacred of vows
Less binding upon those whom Nature and the mirror
Have favored more so than those among us
Who are among the unattractive and underloved?
Ladies and gentlemen, it is up to you
To write the final chapter of our fable.
I thank you for your service.

Man's literature surveys the landscape of
life with such care that
the passionate man is merely a
caricature of innumerable minds.
The self-created man is as such
according to the connections of his own
experience to that of the volumes
adorning the world's shelves.
Mine eyes of passion are the reincarnation
of the angel Edmund Dantès; anguish
the respondent ripple of the Creature born in
Ingolstadt. Burns teaches humility
as Boethius the ambitions of Lady Fortune, both
under the whims of fleshly confinement.
To bear further testament, Nabokov
brands the sublimity of the individual as
the lost, old soul Taibhsear
calls Love out on the street holding the name
not of his greatest desire but that of her's.
Eons hold the grandest wealth that is the build-up
of the "drops in the ocean" that
are the whims of man and his
written word.

Dizzying fall
The ending claims all
Hitting rock bottom when there's nothing solid left
Fending off the end with each passing breath
Lungs on the grind, buying me time
Onward, headfirst
Through layers of earth
Til my soul is bending
Ears ringing with a thousand rending
Tales of farewell etching out
This cavity of self doubt

What the truth is I can't say
And most likely never will

The noise, it fades
****** sprites screaming out my name
Eventually all lose themselves in the torrent
Of endlessness
Of abyss and persistance
Of nonexistence

No longer resist

Thoughts respondent of a scream
Repressing turbulent dreams
Still crawling along my back
Feelings crouched out of sight
Negativity, prone to attack

Deceased
Or not
The truth
Is that
I still
Have friends
Or not
I guess

In life it's nearly always just a matter of time
Ricocheting through the valley of fatal decline
Wishing after thoughtless grandeur, wishing for more wishes
Ephemeral, it all
Falling to the ending

I was then but middle-aged, established in my world.
She was a young ingenue, a lithe and lovely girl.
she knew about the ring I wore, the promise it contained,
but we were both the worse for drink and passions were inflamed.
I should have left here at her door, my lusts I should have tamed.

Her perfume was enticing, unlike what my Lucy wore.
I stepped back to admire when her chemise hit the floor.
To hold a warm girl in my arms; to kiss those lips of flame.
I felt my youth restored to me when she whispered my name.

Her mystic rose was delicate; its subtle nectar sweet.
She raised her hips to meet my lips, the conquest was complete.
We both were lost in pleasure, her fingers urged me on.
We surrendered to our yearnings, all inhibitions gone.

Some say that Hell is a fiery pit with fierce unquenchable flames.
Others say its lined with ice and  the cold drives you insane.
For me Hell was a woman scorned and a co-respondent named.
I was crucified in the press; such is the cost of fame.

I am older, wiser now. I never touch a drop.
See, if you never drink the first no one need tell you stop.
I  have been a fool for Love but I will not pretend
that I don't miss her passionate kiss I'll never have again.

The soft sound of the rolling thunder,
The astonishing light show of lightning on a distant shore,
The calming, peaceful noise of the tide as it rolls in, only to be ****** back into the ocean.
The dark clouds will eventually be left behind,
And as they pass, they grant peace of mind.
The steady wind, that isn't cold, but still leaves me chilled.
Reminds me that I'm not dreaming, but awake, and unfulfilled.
This is somewhere everything seems like it could all be okay.
And it will, one day.
It's almost relaxing watching a storm,
You start to think about everything that keeps you warm.
The ones you love, and why you wake up everyday.
But that could all change, and who's to say.
Nothing in life is constant,
and we all need our respondent.
A way to get rid of what's eating us alive,
Throw out all into the open,
Let it sink deep beneath the ocean.
Don't let your problems decide who you are,
Otherwise you'll end up afar.
You won't see the lightning,
Or hear the thunder.
Nor feel the wind, but be cast asunder.
For you will become the storm,
In every way, shape and form.

I was then but middle-aged, established in my world.
She was a young ingenue, a lithe and lovely girl.
she knew about the ring I wore, the promise it contained,
but we were both the worse for drink and passions were inflamed.
I should have left here at her door, my lusts I should have tamed.

Her perfume was enticing, unlike what my Lucy wore.
I stepped back to admire when her chemise hit the floor.
To hold a warm girl in my arms; to kiss those lips of flame.
I felt my youth restored to me when she whispered my name.

Her mystic rose was delicate; its subtle nectar sweet.
She raised her hips to meet my lips, the conquest was complete.
We both were lost in pleasure, her fingers urged me on.
We surrendered to our yearnings, all inhibitions gone.

Some say that Hell is a fiery pit with fierce unquenchable flames.
Others say its lined with ice and the cold drives you insane.
For me Hell was a woman scorned and a co-respondent named.
I was crucified in the press; such is the cost of fame.

I am older, wiser now. I never touch a drop.
See, if you never drink the first no one need tell you stop.
I have been a fool for Love but I will not pretend
that I don't miss her passionate kiss I'll never have again.

I am neither despondent or a respondent of I.
I just accept what it is with a soulful sigh.

From the halls of my mind I relish to find a plight more sorrowful than this.
A missed opportunity a forgotten gratuity or a misery that began with a kiss.

To open my eyes and still see the same lies that still permeate my way of life.
All the forsaken and who are mistaken and some who just live for the strife.

So much turmoil still setting matters to boil and where were you when I looked around?
I screamed and I shouted I stomped and I pouted, and never did I hear your sound.

I have arced my neck to gaze up at the wreck the celestial gods have created.
Touch them I can't so it is that I shan't and so again my dreams are abated.

I hope when I die not that you'll cry but that I may then return to the light.
Not because I belong but to hear that song that'll bring that moment back into sight.

I want to keep my eyes open I know I will cope when I see something I've hoped would be true.
Under an undying tree the sight of me sitting across from you.

A query one respondent
     sent didst seem
tummy tubby sincere, possibly
     channeled by cyber sea men,
via bayou A true Britt, aye esteem,
sans abba ra ca dab invoked
     by the spirit Jim Beam
     unwittingly unleashed theme

for this reason
     one humble rhyme
     stir, Me doth write,
     boot promise NOT TO SCREAM
for convenient idea
     to expound ream
(room) minute eight ting,
     about mine previous poem

     "Sleep Inducing Powers...
     Computer Screen"
     smote an idea,
     I could never outdream,
no need to search,

      cuz renown unknwn fan gave
     rise to his nonmainstream
re: "By the way, Matthew,
     "How do you like
     your Lenovo computer?"

Perhaps understandably
     concluded the whole green
kit and caboodle
     tubby a stand alone lean
(and few an proud) machine
sprung from Apple royalty,
     (well linkedin to
     a stevedore jobber seam

ming lee on same playing
     field as a queen
(comprising an A-1
     actor/ actress team)
with Ali MacGraw -
     his wife number deux
which thread strays
     **** sitter ably,

     where unsuspecting reader few
ming with for me (easily)
     getting off track -
     tis only hue
man and hoopfully NOT Jew
van aisle attempting to interweave
     more than one
     concept (delicately loo

ping sentence strands),
     where warp, and
     woof no...no...new
NOT for any
    largesse, nor moo
hoof fish hints,
     but singing Giacomo Antonio
     Domenico Michele

     Secondo Maria Poo
shin knee (the above
     very long name, actually
     authentic i.e. "NOT FAKE"
     a stand alone queue
oh...whoa yes..yes...
     yes please shew
tolerance, how elegiac

     these metaphors too
be compared with
     operatic flourishes I view
as vital breathtaking woo
wing chords nsync with Lenovo "sue

do" flatscreen (NOT A COMPUTER)
yet expanded field of you
alphanumeric characters
     in no way resembles Zulu!

scribble ripples in my heart,
something about the distance, the barrier, the isolation, something about the alienness: the longing, the desire, the bitterness, the joy, the laughter, the tears, the warmth:

how do I think one thing, how can I see one thing but then it's also on someone else? why can't I handle both of these things?

to cry and sleep in the grass
to die in the ocean
it feels ungrateful to be upset, it feels ridiculous to have these feelings

why does it feel like I'm -- i can't erase my feelings, i can't erase these words or thoughts: they've been into the void and into the ocean, into the world, some world, my world or others, a world. it's been in a world. somewhere, screaming, echoing, bouncing, being, like : to be like my words: I'd love to be like my words, winning or losing to being then dreaming: a floof in nature, respondent on nothing,  grappling onto whatever people or  a kind grapples me too: to string and bend and break and be any which way: a word, as a word, let me be as a word, as a construct, let me be as vague as a vague can be: am I failing? am I flailing? how can I say it? I'm having trouble working, I'm having trouble being here: I'm in trouble, I have troubles: without troubles, without power: without tears to come out, without aim, idling then failing: how to get my mind there --> in the wij, in the velt, something else tickles me very well: my own body, vexation, do you see the plume of awareness: please let me know if you decide to remain aware, if you decide for your excitement to slowly increase: a lazy smile with lazy eyes and blemishes on your body and an old mildew smell, peeling, wheeling: together, a peloton . . . huh, a peloton, outside, binnen en buiten: did you think of that? where those grasses are? could I float that way? to float along in the grass: but with my ears covered, my eyes covered, my nose covered: with all of it covered, really, to be important then visualize: than to visualize, really, I mean, without respect for You or me, then the naturous green, or really, gray clouds float by: anything going to die? anything out there about to die? who else just died? who else just became guilty? bird death? the flies? all those flies?

to **** myself, to dream myself, to reborn again, new, to change it again: how can this mend the broken skin I put into myself? mill=knives==>pain could quickly adopt this: kicking me out, I hope not: should know better than to self-harm around these white walls. a ***** place, I'd need a ***** place, similar for a being like me: there, my unidentified blood could stain the floors and the walls, the music of my screams would seem so loud, and all my pain and ghosts and demons and darkness dance around me in a circle, mocking me, lulling me to sleep, starving me of oxygen, cheating me, all the taunts and pain and they bite at me, kick at me, **** and **** on me, they do it all to me, they stone me, they r ape me, they torment me, they lick me, they even decide once, just once, to kiss me gently: all the hurting resembles a great pen is, an ***** bulging pe nis and then round globe-like br- easts that have spider veins and is lactating: a full thick beard and long black curly hair: a knife in its hand, flesh glistening and rough at once, matte and ******: sleek and sinewy of muscles: stomping me, trampling me, where it thought about it all the time:

they can't see me in here. no one can see us in here.

can't you take me anywhere, please? I don't mind: why do you mind? why is it just me? why is it just me who wants it? who wants to be without all these? is it because I never had it?

(nevertheless ex post facto still flattered
genuine heartfelt kinship mattered,
hence the reasonable rhyme
across the webbed wide world
I subsequently scattered).

Linkedin to the previous poem,
(similarly written scant few years ago.

I also codified, glorified, and lamented
an unexpected cessation of communication
with he/him who affixed yours truly
appellation of wise man, which modesty
of mine gently downplays.

Bhutan names defy affiliating,
determining, identifying... gender,
and what a faux pas this dada admits,
when a blessed high school
student did league gully tender

benighted, gifted, ordained yours truly
with sobriquet "Guru"
alluded to in previous poem, render
ring this foolish hearty good fella (me)
falling prey to embarrassing situation,

(I did miss render
as would be expected
from this crash test dummy,
who dented his psychological fender),
vis virtual mind ******,

when an initial presumption
smarted Matthew Scott as offender,
asper online youth NO pretender
by him, aye mean the sender
communicated his admiration,

adoration, adulation for this big spender
of sincerity, viz singular poetic magi - (ha)
made presumption that
unknown messenger slender,
and female, and

upon enclosing appender
referencing person as "lovely princess"
did respondent clarify finding deface
of zee poet here -
logic chops went thru blender

as if slapped by a suspender
experiencing irrevocable shame
as though a contender
attempting to guide false supposition
playfully mistaking ******

identity of male sender,
he (young kneeler)
bowed as winning scoring goaltender
down as mine professed

metrical feet, he who acquiesced
non Asian minor, friender
NOT seeking moneylender,
nor mistook my heart of gold,
mine apology I did obligingly surrender

and possibly chuckled to himself,
asper an uproarious hellbender
whereat my countenance turned
sixty plus four shades of lavender.

The Genzing Gardens Pip
One day
When a small seed
Has grown
Maybe twenty, to thirty years from now
A future Isaac Newton
Perhaps, somehow
Will wander
Within a small park
For a lark
And admire the array
Of flowering nature
And blossoming trees
On display, respondent in their beauty
Whilst pondering
On scientific thingies
Looking for
Just that one moment
Of true inspiration
The Spring
Becomes Summer
Summer turns to Autumn
And still
The ignition key of inspiration
Lies dormant
As a dead dandelion
Until one cool  icy blue-skied day
He sits beneath an apple tree
His thoughts meandering
At that moment
An apple falls
As destiny calls
And hits him squarely on the head
He is rushed to hospital
And upon arrival
And much recovered
Declares
"Eureka!" (no bathwater involved)
" Do not ponder beneath apple trees in Autumn!"
Sometimes wisdom
Needs physical intervention!

by Jemia

Consistentcy is the key
To gain respectability
Overcoming the process
Where thoughts digress
Is the hardest
Can be attained by practice
The wavering mind
Judging every single nod
The decree brings instability
Final verdict untrustworthy
Mirroring the behaviour
The greatest error
Being one with yourself
Expression comes natural
Cannot be somebody else
Tried and tested results
Every roadblock their behaviour builds
And every ditch their attitude gives
Manoeuvering every move
Acording to their groove
Cuts the brake s off
High speed crash of personality on the cards
Flexible and moving along
Without loosing the original nature that belongs
If not better off when interaction cut off
Inability to handle
Anyone who's intrinsically cross
Must know the course
Or else don't Tee off
Congruent and come through
Avoid and be true
Protect the uniqueness
Consists of consistency
Clarity of thought
Feeling every moment
You'll become the best respondent