i'm in a dangerous state of mind
with no care for living this life
where human emotions are traded
for less than a pack of rubbers
but you didn't even use those
so how much did i truly mean
when the push came to shove
and grinding hips
with moaning lips
that whispered, screamed,
and cried his name
on the night you ****** my heart away
where loyalty takes a literal backseat
to pleasure
and a long term relationship
is laughing stock material
ha ha standup, ain't i funny
to look for something more than this
but i would choke on my own tongue
before i'd speak bad of you
my backstabbing lover
unfaithful friend
i hope to god it he was worth it
the cost was more than just tears
but blood spray on the bathroom mirror
and an empty place where i once
used to love
permanently empty
i can't find the will to care
more than a few half-hearted,
correct that, heartless
obscenities muttered under my breath
with ****** on my mind
a 3:30am fantasy to help dull
the pain that i should be feeling
maybe i'm just a pessimist,
fatalist, cynical, and negative
but my lack of surprise cuts the most
lied to by my mind for those
two months of my life
that i thought i had it all
better to have loved and lost
but even better to **** it all
and just go out with your name on my lips
and your lies in my heart
i hope you think of me when you're with him
that you choke on your tears
plagued with the worst emotions and loss
a better killer than any gun

To impregnate a women, you have to feel the horn
Being soft is not much good, or if your ***** is worn
Many men they want a ****, but don't want babies born
It's best to avoid men like Boyd, because he's low on corn

If you have unprotected ***, and your cocktails on the prawn
Then pregnancy is immanent, unless a line is drawn
Wearing a sheaf is sensible, that's if it isn't torn
Make sure your rubbers in one piece, or watch some ******* ****

****** stimulation can be achieved, when there is a certain need
You soon had some excuses, when your rubber tore at speed
There's no need to lie, because it's just for your own greed
Suddenly your low on ***** after you had your ****** feed

You didn't mind your pleasure, when you layed and did the deed
Some consequences matter, when you know where things may lead
No mention of low ***** counts, you came and spread your seed
Pregnancies have happened, because low ***** counts can still breed

Hay now Boyd I wonder how, your ***** count is so low ?
It seems to me your capable, but you don't want to know
If you can break a ******, then it just goes to show
The only thing you can count, is a free cash money flow

Counting *****'s not easy, was it sitting in a row
Low ***** count is an excuse, for just another ***
Responsibility is not your thing, you want to ***** and go
You don't care you've had your ***, instead of going slow

Avoid Boyd because I think, his low count is a lie
It can get through rubber sheafs, and it doesn't even try
Destroying morning after pills, it looks like his counts sky high
His Low count cant be so low, to kiss pregnancy goodbye

He's implied the kids not his, its enough to make you cry
It didn't bother him before, when he layed in the pie
Now that pregnancies occurred, he's now done up his fly
Suddenly his ***** is low, and that's the reason why

Isn't Boyd just a boy, but with an added D
The laziness of proper names, at least to a degree
What's his parent's thinking of, are they completely of their tree
What's wrong with naming a boy, ben or pete or lee

Is it a bit like catchphrase, where you say what you see
Was there born a baby boy, holding brook bond tea
I don't think Boyd is a real name, but you may disagree
A better name I could supply, and I wouldn't charge a fee

Poor old Boyd his ***** is low, they must be quite annoyed
Their waiting for orders to go, but now there unemployed
Most of them are killed off, and the rest just get destroyed
Not one of those *****'s hanging high, unlike Harold Lloyd

He's claiming that his count is low, he must be paranoid
******* that rips rubber, that's some ***** you should avoid
Combating morning after pills, once his ***** has been deployed
If you value your own dignity, for **** sake avoid Boyd

May I join you in the doghouse, Rover?
I wish to retire till the party's over.
Since three o'clock I've done my best
To entertain each tiny guest. My conscience now I've left behind me,
And if they want me, let them find me.
I blew their bubbles, I sailed their boats,
I kept them from each other's throats. I told them tales of magic lands,
I took them out to wash their hands.
I sorted their rubbers and tied their laces,
I wiped their noses and dried their faces. Of similarities there's lots
Twixt tiny tots and Hottentots.
I've earned repose to heal the ravages
Of these angelic-looking savages. Oh, progeny playing by itself
Is a lonely little elf,
But progeny in roistering batches
Would drive St. francis from here to Natchez. Shunned are the games a parent proposes,
They prefer to squirt each other with hoses,
Their playmates are their natural foemen
And they like to poke each other's abdomen. Their joy needs another woe's to cushion it,
Say a puddle, and someone littler to push in it.
They observe with glee the ballistic results
Of ice cream with spoons for catapults, And inform the assembly with tears and glares
That everyone's presents are better than theirs.
Oh, little women and little men,
Someday I hope to love you again, But not till after the party's over,
So give me the key to the doghouse, Rover

I am an unwanted child of god**

I am an unwanted child of god-
He said,
And I, (believing him)
examined his shapes closely.

Simple enough,
Is what would best describe him,
his feet were sheltered by rubbers
manufactured in some distant or exotic country
crafted by machines
in far away factories.

This unwanted child of god, this dark young man, child of father after father infinitum;
Gave me a look of terror and apathy at once, then spoke.

I think, sometimes, of acting out of character-
(his smile surprised me)
I put the gun in my mouth just to taste the cold iron-
I bring men to my hotel room, women too-
(his gap widened)
Who can say I am not the happiest ******* on the ******* planet-

'not me'
I'll drink to that-

Oh hoarse throat, oh smokey breath
Oh sad unwanted child of god
Whose mother did look upon the coat-hanger,
And whose father did look upon the belt;
I'll drink to you everyday,
For who is to say I'm not the happiest ******* on the ******* planet?
Hip and hip
hooray.

Next Sunday he pulled the trigger, and stained the Dull brown wall of his hotel room.

Let's see
When she visits I'll need
Rubbers, fresh and non latex
Oil to rub in gently
To work my arms out
To prevent pain whilst issuing it out
Whips, and maybe a couple of paddles and
Chains
Because i know she's into pain
Maybe even an umbrella, or a nicely made cane
....
I think thats it
Ive quite the checklist!

No One Knew His Name
when the woman called nine eleven she said
there is a guy sitting on the stoop
he's dead..
the nine eleven woman, martha, said
how do you know he
s dead we get plenty of calls like tha
t

she said, the woman, said
he
s got flies in his eyes

martha said we are gonna
be right there!

2.two condoms and a crucifix

when the coroner people cam
e he was still sitting on the stoop
still dead his breath no longer
straining the winter air
then they took pix and measured things
rigor mortis already had set in
and when they took th e pix
they showed two condoms and a crucifix
falling out of his pocket into the light of day

the woman who found him so still
she said it is strange
to see such disparate things spilling out of his pocket
he
was still dead and i believe he
s kept his state of being stubborn as he is/was
he remains forevermore stilled

we talked about those three things
two concepts really
two condoms and a crucifix
and we could not figure out which
he loved the most
because we never heard him speak of
anything but god crack *** amphetamine
trinity cooh, ya know?

3. Discovery Indeed

he came from wolf lake mn
population 31
when he left it went down to 25
ten thousand lakes
he could not imagine living there
anymore
but did he know at the end of the trail
what was he looking for?
two condoms and a xfix
my god he said
although he did not ever believe in such
extravagance
just before he went to sleep
perhaps to be still forever more
my god he said
as the soporific hit blessed
whatever was left of his short life
my god he said
although he was agnostic or so he said
my god
he could not have believed had he not heard them words
himself
as he grabbed the condoms and kissed the xfix
or maybe it was the other way around.

4. No ****
sitting on his ***** chair
he put his hands between his legs
reached for the ****
and squeezed:
yellowish stuff strained out between his fingers.

his grandma slapped him, hard

5. Things Looking Up

he lay down on the floor
to look up the neighbor's dress
he saw a pair of legs descend
from pink *******

then his grandma picked him up
slapped him, hard.

6. Harbinger

winter flew in harsh in minnesota,
battered houses, pine trees,
the wide landscape into submission
let the wind run whistling, whipping
subservient snow, whitewhirlwinding
down desolate fields and lanes

one day it got so cold
spit froze before it hit the ground
it made a little noise midair

7. Cold Dogs

one time he saw some fifteen dead dogs
piled by the side of a road
frozen like the rest of the landscape

even as an adult he wondered
what THAT had been about

8. *** Is Child's Play

in the first grade he fell in love with miss renee
the teacher who let him put his head down on her legs
and petted his head while he glowed glowed glowed
he learned to love school and read read read
so ms renee would say Joe, read!
and he would

one time he dreamed he had *** with miss renee
*** was tying something between her legs
a knot of love in her ******

so how did he know about such things
at five? he always wondered about that.

9. Revelation

his fishing pole was gone!
he looked and looked while spring time
raised giant mosquitos that buzzed and buzzed
about his head

he never found his fishing pole
he thought that maybe when you die
and go to heaven
god showed you in a sort of movie
what had happened so you'd nod yer head and say
yeh, i'd never would have guessed grandma

gave it away.

10. Alone At Last

say to the darkness this
emptiness covers all this
suffusing light scrapes away
some pain some excruciating i am
lucid preamble to my nevermores
in plural congruent universes
coexisting rapt in its own
say this is a dream a vertigo
a swirling metaphor for then/now/and again
can days still mean something new
today everyone left
everyone left


staring out the window at six years old
he saw woods slowly fade into the night
he thought they sank
into an oblivious fog

why didn't i go to the neighbors' house

11. Death Becomes The Fisherman

the lakes were all around
they said let's go see the drowned man
so they went to the shore
a boat with two men rowing
approached
you could see a hand and an arm sticking out
from somebody lying on the floor
someone said "hey, he
s waving"
close to the shore
the wind brought the overpowering
stink of death
that shocked him because he'
d not thought of "drowned" as "dead"

they brought the body out
to the shore
covered it waiting for the coroner to show up

mother and sister cried nearby
neither could approach the stinking corpse

he then realized that no matter what
you can't kiss a rotting corpse.

12. Rubber Match

the first time he met a ******
there was no formal intro
he just found it in his father'
s drawer
filled it with water
dumped it on the neighbor
s'
yard

later on he could hear them fight

13.Prurient Discovery

when he was 13 he made love to her
who was 16
and all he could think about
was how gross it was and wet

until he came

then his opinion suddenly
changed

for the

better

14. Death Is

his grandmother was sick
in the MN winter cold home
she coughed and coughed
so she
put kerosene on her back
and chest
he saw she got blisters
he did not want to help
clean them up
so he hid
until she was quiet for a couple of days

he went to see her she was dead
so he stayed drunk for a week or so
until he could not stand the stink no more

15. The Beginning of the End

he went to a foster home
there were 5 other teenagers there
the first night
he went to bed
someone put a pillow on his head
while hands turned him over
held him down
pulled his pjs down
5 guys ***** him then and there

the next day he ran away

16. The End of the Beginning

they brought him back 23 times
on the 24 he met one of the kids
by the lake
stuck a knife under the guys
ribcage on the right side

all the guy did was sigh
and slide slowly down

he pushed the guy into the water
somehow it took weeks to find the body
by then nobody could tell he'd been stabbed

but none of the kids ever held him down
again

17. COOH

alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know how spinning
the world distances itself
in a warm blood red haze
and only a swollen torpor remains
alcohol alcohol
its sweet old name tells me all
i need to know
and not to know

18. Not Late, Just Timely

time 'sss a stone a sash a thunderbolt up high
a rudder a list a lisp a restless meandering
time 'sss a spire a fish still below the waves
a constraint a push a shove a deal a nothing
time 'ssss a look a lock a rail
a sunrise a fall a crack a vial
time 'sss a sock a pen a handgun
a radiant breeze a solid solid hand
two elbows and one mouth

he took his time and time took him
step by step he climbed the stairs of his cognizance
such as it was just this
no hope

i say no hope but no despair either
the world sometimes it's just the way it is
he understood that but what to make
of this breathing hearing seeing tasting feeling smelling
thinking self
he knew not
and in not knowing
he passed the time that isss not
what you think it isss
time 'sss not even a ticking tocking clock
just let it be he said to himself
time 'sss not me
yet time isss me

and he took another ****


19. Luger

his father came back to town one day
the war had been over for a few years then
they told him where he could find his father and he went
and watched his father, dressed in combat rags,
as he counted the fingers of his shooting hand

they exchanged glances and he left

got drunk and did not hear or see his father ever again.

20. Life As A Long One Night Stand

the girls are many the girls are new
every day they seems to look at you
and you melt and then you are gone
in another trip with another stranger
in your bed do not say much
cause *** is just another drug

just cheaper and easier to get
than smack

21. Epitaph

he learned a song and a little dance
at the emergency rooms where he got
the prescription pain killers man he could
lie and act and pretend so much
he knew they'
d really have to give him stuff
cause that'
s the way that things work
in big city hospitals
he re-membered a doc who smiled at him
saying man you'll be dead soon
although you think you are fooling me
the only fool in this room is you

he laughed cause he could not agree more
put that in my tombstone he said
the doc said no, you are gonna do it all by yourself

22. Lost Weekend
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.- -.-
-.- -.- -.- -.-

23. Dashes and Spaces
---- -- -- - - --- --
-- - -- -- -- - - -- - -- -- -
--- - - - - - -- - -- - - - --- - -
-- - - -- -- -- -- ---- - - --

24. Two Condoms

at the end of the road
the road the empty road
the sinuous complex road
the road the heavy road
where lust and love entwine
who knows the end or the beginning
who knows alpha or omega
who the what who the where who even
the hidden sentient how
the nothingness the emptiness
of come and come and come
just emptiness of not becoming
he heard himself saying screaming
at the end of something like a bumpy ride
she was who knows who but she was
you know the hole the whole the mankind whole
the all embracing whole the whole hole
the destination origin
the one and all
he said here i belong elementary
i exist because of this
he pounded pounded in his anguish
of becoming one and whole
he howled his grief intermittent
as pulse wave of heart
the heat of his despair
the only drug that it's living protein
he felt his way
and then was gone from virile crisis
to distant remote self acquiring its orthodoxy of despair
because as he put it once you cannot ever **** yourself
square the circle as it were
so he accepted two trojans
at the bar when a guy in the adjacent ****** said
these are the best and yes
we gotta protect ourselves
and left the couple of rubbers
by the sink
and he would have washed his hands
had he known how
but instead put them products in his pocket
a premonition of some kind of future bliss
tugging the sleeve of his presentiment

carving already a vast innocent tomorrow
while he walked out

he truly did not care

25. Crucifix

at the end of the road the empty road, the road full of lies, deceit and a hunger so great it overwhelmed all else, at the end, the terminus, the appointed hour, at the end of the alpha, the omega, the in-between, the road sinuous road that led down the miriad steps to the steps on a stoop in the city of new york, at the end of a long concatenation of minutes, each ethereal, insubstantial, a construct, a vapid dream or nightmare indeed he sat down one last time with his burden of hours to dream one last warm oblivious cozy, embracing shroud, sweet balm to assuage the freezing claws of grief. in the seedy bar last
night he met a blonde who said, your eyes remind me of a long ago boyfriend, he said well, he musta been one hell of a guy, she said indeed, he died in iraq, suicide, ******* he said that is not right, she said we are all at war, daily intimate war, i think, who said we met the enemy and it's us? he did not know but understood, he said although denial is more than a river in egypt, ha ha, but they both got it since they both craved the same intoxication, the same zig-zag and feint, she said the first time i got drunk i was eleven, that was my first time for *** too, he said the first time i got drunk i too was eleven, the night had fallen i was alone in wisconsin among the wolves of winter howling their relentless wind outside, i found a bottle of the hard stuff, not beer like everybody drank i could not stand the taste it was too bitter, but gin, and i drank it convulsed at first by the shock, then not, just drinking a few more gulps and believed i had found the greatest gift on earth, the greatest warmest kindest confidant, she said you talk funny, but i understand what you are talking about, i know the allure but my hangovers, wow, he said no, i never got one, but. here is the but. i knew a limit, i was never blind blind drunk until much later in new york, she said we each have our cross to bear and laughed and dontcha just wanna do a line now ha ha, and it went on like that for quite a while. when she was leaving she said, you wanna see something funny, yeah he said, she brought out a crucifix and it was indeed jesus, his mouth open, imploring relief from his harsh dad, and he had a gold tooth, blue eyes and dreads, he laughed and said that's quite contemporary and she said wha? you don't think he looked like that? but really who knows what the truth was, he said or is, so they both lifted one in memory of the dear departed one who had caused so much trouble here on earth, but, she said, he did not mean it, here keep it and he did. later on he found his fix it was extra good ****, too good in fact, and who knows, when he sat there with flies in his eyes, his life a dream, invention, make believe, whether any of the episodes were true at all, sob stories to assuage the beast of craving within, get his hand in your pocket and whether, as he sank below the surface of his tortured bliss, he saw his true light at long last.

3

“Sic transit gloria mundi,”
  “How doth the busy bee,”
“Dum vivimus vivamus,”
  I stay mine enemy!

Oh “veni, vidi, vici!”
  Oh caput cap-a-pie!
And oh “memento mori”
  When I am far from thee!

Hurrah for Peter Parley!
  Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
  Who first observed the moon!

Peter, put up the sunshine;
  Patti, arrange the stars;
Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
  And call your brother Mars!

Put down the apple, Adam,
  And come away with me,
So shalt thou have a pippin
  From off my father’s tree!

I climb the “Hill of Science,”
  I “view the landscape o’er;”
Such transcendental prospect,
  I ne’er beheld before!

Unto the Legislature
  My country bids me go;
I’ll take my india rubbers,
  In case the wind should blow!

During my education,
  It was announced to me
That gravitation, stumbling,
  Fell from an apple tree!

The earth upon an axis
  Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
  In honor of the sun!

It was the brave Columbus,
  A sailing o’er the tide,
Who notified the nations
  Of where I would reside!

Mortality is fatal—
  Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
  Insolvency, sublime!

Our Fathers being weary,
  Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho’ full many a morning,
  Yet they are sleeping still,—

The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
  In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
  A marching to the skies!

A coward will remain, Sir,
  Until the fight is done;
But an immortal hero
  Will take his hat, and run!

Good bye, Sir, I am going;
  My country calleth me;
Allow me, Sir, at parting,
  To wipe my weeping e’e.

In token of our friendship
  Accept this “Bonnie Doon,”
And when the hand that plucked it
  Hath passed beyond the moon,

The memory of my ashes
  Will consolation be;
Then, farewell, Tuscarora,
  And farewell, Sir, to thee!

there's a boy in my bed
who was not there before.
i left for a short while
and rushed back to find a rubber band
boy stretched from my headboard
to the foot of my bed.

i'm afraid that he will snap
or maybe i'm afraid i will
because i've been wrought so tight
my chest is collapsing in on itself
but the sight of the boy in my bed, well,
it loosens my strings.
(and rubber always bounces back.)

this rubber band boy has played
me before; he knows all the melodies
i will sing to him and he will croon back
and it is the duet i have always wanted:
the one where neither of us make a sound.

i let the boy in my bed stretch
his rubber band arms around me,
rub up and down my back
because i am wracked with sobs
because i am panicked and broken
because i am the scratched record

i can only play the first few lines
of the same song: 'wise men say
only fools rush in';
the rest of it flies over my head
and hits rubber.
so he finishes the song for me:
'i can't help falling in love with you.'
i can't help but think
that i would **** this boy senseless.
(i'd **** him up too, i always **** it up).

they call condoms 'rubbers' in North America but
that's wrong. (they're latex.)
they call erasers 'rubbers' in the UK. (correct.)
Our culture gap reflects us well.

I need, ache, to prevent mistakes from happening
but I have ******* myself over too often;
even latex cannot save me.
He is there when the mistakes are made,
over and over again,
rubbing them out until they're nothing but
shavings, little bits to be blown off the sheet,
cut out from the final piece.

i can only hope i prevent myself
from becoming the mistake
he must erase from himself.

if i never get to be the opera,
let me be a song,
a verse,
a single note.

perhaps he won't remember me at all,
just the bed he's stretched himself in.
maybe what i'll be in his composed works
is a well-placed
rest.

uh strippin' ya titles n fame
Ya got no game shame I had to show up in flame
burn every last one of y'all til a single grain
snorts of ******* to rush into my brain
gives me crazy pump
like kriss kross I'll make ya jump
got ya body arched like camel humps smokin' punks like a smoke blunts pull stunts more than steevo straight evil
ya can peep me on underground radios
**** mainstream and pipe dreams
make this ***** jalel sings
more than crows gathered around for the wicked sound
body molded to th ground for tryna step to Htown fools drown
with no water slaughter
Like shots from a thousand mortars
got bids on the Satan's daughter's
ya need to get smarter y'all fallen like denzel welcome to yosef cell no bail no fairytales as I silence ya yell
from my lyrical gat that goes through ya medulla oblungata
got more ranks than shabba mister lover lover undercover like brother as I smother
ya baby mama and ya mother like no other duck her with no rubbers
cut into ya head piece like cookie cutters
see ya in sta sta sta studder
yosef be hoppin' like hoes like mudd rudders
straight from the gutters
I got rhymes for days that's was displayed before even my rhymes was said
plus **** what ya said
I'll  leave ya dome open like a Sun roof
catch. spoof off my tactics
my lyrics be more controversial than the gulf tonka make ya wonder magnificent blunders sound the thunders
once yosef grabs the Mic enticing brawls under heat lights
sweatin' cuz I'm a threat ending ya fate and might uh

Just like i told ya ya can't stop the reign
as i bring the pain more than major playa hatas
move over theres a new sheriff in town puff by the pound
its goin' down in htown time to ****** crowns
off unknown clowns whos rounds
ain't hittin' nothin' but air as i heir
the rhymes from my hip hop ancestry
like i said who spit it better than me
****** is what i write
check the obituary even burn ya cemetery
while enemies stay worried i stay buried
with rhymes that pull like tech 9s through ya mind
as ya touch the flat line
give em pump up so he get the adrenaline up
only to get knocked the ****** up
by the mister evil sinister preach lyrics as a minister
this ain't the last inning
we goin' all out til we fall out got guns that clear the skies out
nuclear blast spin around emceez like taz hit ya with jazz razzamatazz
that's the sounds of gats bustin' that ***
left ya body soakin' breath chokin' hopin'
to make it but can't shake it as i mold it then break it
like my last drip a *** i shake it
til its nothing left cook up these lyrics like a chef
even make ears open of the deaf
cuz my lyrics be so powerful irresistible hard for ya know to go
and bob ya head to my **** i hit like rockets outta space
loose ya paper chase for tryna step into yosefs face
with that disgrace that ******* you call hip hop?
i got heat tha'tll make ya lip lock hip go hippy to the hop
naw talkin' sugar hill deliver more dead than clothes to Goodwill
we ***** as the Goodfellas knockin' tailfeathers money come like atm tellers
no pin toxic rhymes poisonous as donna,bella

So you’re clearing out your room,
clearing out more of yourself,
because it’s the end of the world, isn’t it?
The end of an era anyway –
the end of the bad decision to paint
your room pink.
You never really liked the colour pink.
Your old room had been sunshine yellow,
that bright happy colour of raincoats
and welly boots and sunflowers
(and yellow was still my favourite colour
when i painted my room pink –
yellow rubber in my pencil case,
yellow bow in my hair –
a sunshine happy kind of child
but not really. i painted my room pink
just because).
You wanted the new room painted a shade
called jazzberry but you were told it was too dark.
You wrote in the card to your dead great grandmother
that you were having your room painted jazzberry
and then you didn’t.
The card was placed in her coffin and cremated with her,
and you experienced that strange sensation at the funeral
of not feeling what you were supposed to be feeling.
I should cry, you told yourself, I should feel sad,
but you had cried all your tears in advance
and you’d cried them all for dead grasshoppers
and the old house you were leaving behind.
(always the same with me, isn’t it.
tears over everything except the things that matter.
i’m crying on the floor over lino, over my bedroom,
over a dress that’s in the wash and not my wardrobe)
The new bedroom had wardrobes you loved,
mirrors you loved and hated and it was pink.
It was your safe place, the space that wasn’t
really made for you, but was the one place
in this world where nothing could get you
(except me and yourself, but that’s another story).
Anyway, let’s get back to the point.
You’re clearing the room out because it’s the end of the world
and you’ve been putting it off for three years,
but you’re a crumbly cliff and waves are strong.
You’ve been thinking of train tracks
and gosh aren’t you dramatic,
but you’re finally clearing your little self out.
The toys are easy – you keep a couple whose names you remember
(Tallulah, Alfie, Tilly, Phillipa, Clementine
//oh my darling, ruby lips above the water
and the dream of kissing your best friend
that will forever be connected to
oh my darling, Clementine//),
the clothes are easy – in fact,
it’s all easy when you start to let go
of that nasty little girl from the sunshine yellow
and from the pasty pink.
You bundle her off into charity bags and bin liners
and then you find it – the Special Box.
It was your treasure trove in an
orange Jacobs crackers box  so you open it,
thinking you’ll keep everything, and then,
well then it’s a box full of *******.
Not just ******* things that once mattered,
but real ******* – broken pens, meaningless rocks,
used rubbers, crumbled tissues, incomplete
gifts from Christmas crackers
(and how very like you and me – to keep
things that go in the bin. we cling
to the sadness and the guilt and the fear
just because).
You throw away your special box
and you throw away all your junk
(except your new junk –
every train ticket you’ve bought
since the First)
and then the room is empty.
Were you ever here, you wonder
(and what toys will you have to give to your children?
you get asked, and you say you won’t have any.
i won’t because how would i, for one?
how could i, for another?
how could i put them through all this?)
and then you remember, that yes,
you’ll always be there – sunshine yellow,
pasty pink, nasty little version of nasty bigger you,
but for now, you’ve cleared yourself out a bit.
The new room will be blue
and one wall will be papered with books
(and i see what you’ve done –
you’re using the imagery of your own poetry,
because it’s easier to live inside of your own imagery
than deal with anything else, isn’t it)
and maybe, you think and the others think too,
this is a good thing, the sign of a change to come
(but your Special Box was full of *******
and what other evidence do you need
to know that you will never change or move beyond this?
this is as good as it gets).

Woke up out a cold sweat
Thinkin' will i survive the subliminal threats
Cant get a job cuz im black
Thats a  brutal honest fact
So brothers switch to a jack
Dont get mad when we rollin' craps
Hood mentality
To be nba or nfl livin' fantasies
Chasin' broken dreams
Thinkin' you can get the cream
No education cuz they medias want segregation
**** the pulpit preachers talk ****
Tellin' about them ******* parables
I know im a rebel
Born saint roll me up some dank
Hit the burb park my ds on the curb
Hitt the switches for the *******
******* for them snitches
If ya know me ya might be a homie
And if you a groupie
You nothing but a phony
Check my licks we steady got ya heads bobbin"
***** SHOULD HAVE KNOWN
IM STEADY MOBBIN''


I jumps in the shower
Clean as a muthafucka throw
On some baby powder
Dressed fresh to death
Makin' these girls loose they breath
***** i aint no lover
Go after them other brothers
Cuz ya cant catch me in a gank
Gas up the 64 put 30 in the tank
Gave the good lord a thank
Hit the liquor store and pour up some drank
My homie Tim riding shotgun
Im public enemy number one
Dont got a license for a gun
So thats means im illegally packin
Extra clips
Just incase for bodystackin' fools be actin'
Out but i got the clout
Rubbers on deck to keep a ** in check
Watch ya mouth before i slit ya neck
Still feelin' my music
Got ya ****** head bobbin'
***** im steady mobbin'

This hatred
soaks into my bones.

Bouquets of plastic flowers
The smell of cigarettes
and used rubbers
saturate my senses

A sweet kiss
a deluge of poison
armistice broken
for selfish desire

This drought
this doubt
this never ending fear
it grinds against my soul

Do you even know me?
Am I even here?
Crashing into bars
of a gilded cage

The bird with clipped wings
Grounded
A song of melancholy
lingers in the air

His name,
well it is Dominique,
wants to be a woman,
perhaps,
as he slips into his plaid skirt,
thought it rather itchy,
he could be rather ******,
Starts off in high heels,
yes,
Then he dons his rubbers,
I said Dons,
not Dom's,
then feeds his fetish,
pulls up his welly boots,
into rubber you know!
He traipses to the shop of ***,
there he buys a gimp suit,
gives his girlfriend whips and chains,
she locks him up in the cellar,
he's a really funny fella,
I'm sure he is okay,
but, I guess I'll never know!
(C) Livvi

The Miss, Misters and Mrs.,
And the St. Joseph's Sisters,
Made me a Bluejay,
Jay- jaying and soaring
Over Wrens and Robins
Below in five rows.
Teeth marks on Ticondarogas,
Initialed pink rubbers,
Toothpicks and fingers
Solved all those problems.

Sister Lucille showed me Sarnia
On the Neilson Wall Map,
With the Malted Milk,
Crispy Crunch bars staring back.
They looked too delicious,
Her reprimand was contritious,
I'm doing time during recess,
Ninety minutes til lunch.

We stood in a crooked line,
Like a snake, to get marked,
With her drawer a crack open
We'd get a peek at her strap.
Black or red, correctively cold;
Sister Roseangela, we'd heard,
Cried, Quid Pro Quo.

We had football baseball,
And hockey dreams,
Volleyball, basketball,
And funeral teams;
Field Days, Holy Days,
Days needed at home;
Teachers were coaches,
With little time to complain;
But the kids back then
Just weren't the same.
There were skirmishes, fouls,
Strike outs and time outs;
We were sliced white bread,
No rye or whole grain.

We'd march double file
Once a week to the Church,
To genuflect and reflect
At the Stations and Cross.
To confess, get redress,
Display penitent remorse,
Though keeping a secret
From the Confessional box,
A comfort and curse.

Their objective succeeded,
The lessons went deep;
Using the three Rs,
The ABCs, 1, 2, 3s,
To impart and ingraine
How to carry one's cross.

I remember by name
The Miss,  Misters and Mrs.
And St. Joseph's Sisters
Who gave their all,
Each day, and always.
They've gone or retired,
But recalled in tranquility
For the life-lessons I admire.

Born of love
one likes to think
They never told you

Actions speak louder than words

Their actions told of no love unspoken
But instead
of resentment and anger
that you came into the world

Like a broken record

You didn't understand
You thought it all a mistake
They didn't belong to you
You came from someone else

But that was just denial
You didn't want to believe
that those who brought you forth
could be so cruel

"Sticks and stones will break my bones
but words will never hurt me."
Childhood mantra

Lies

Words strike the deepest wound
Cut through the layers
no wall impenetrable

Imprinted
in permanent ink

Or so you thought

Time moves on
death
age
illness
change the matrix

In your darkest hour
you think
"Can I forgive?
Can I forget?"

And then the demons came
travelling on the wings of death

A seemingly endless
drug-induced battle against illness
surgery on surgery
medevacs

"Come on," you say
"I can beat you all."

Bravado
but actually the truth

Demons equal rubbers

Triumph over them...
patterns, imprints erased

Enter step mother - stage right
Rug pulled
world upside down again

But you allowed it

Time stops for no man
Or woman
Age
More surgery

Mirrors

Thankful for all past events
They molded you
to the person you are

Give thanks with open heart
to he and she
For all their deeds

Their words didn't hurt you
They fertilised you
You blossomed

Build the bridge

He is old
He is your father
No denying it

Tell him you love him
With unfettered heart
And forgiveness in your voice

Be

Put your troubles into something else.
Don't use that razor blade again.
Or the blunt scalpel you keep.
Or even that bent kitchen knife.

Put your troubles  into something else.
Leave the eyeliner on the shelf.
Leave the rubbers in the box.
Leave the earrings on the stand.

Put your troubles into something else.
How about the doodles you draw.
Or the stories that flow from your pen.
Even the paintings done at dawn.

Put your troubles into something else.
Maybe, even, me. I won't look at them.
I will gently untangle every one.
Trim them until they are all gone.

Put your troubles into something else.
Not a sealed chest.
Not a closed box.
Not a corked bottle.

Put your troubles into something else.
Let your mind be free.
Let your heart be free.
Let me be free.

A Judge, once noted for his lack of compassion
Found when sentencing crooks, he’d a passion!
When sitting on the Bench, he was permitted -
Appropriate to misdemeanour committed-
To administer punishment to fit the crime!

With his court full of petty crooks that first day -
Thieves, robbers, swindlers! All found to their dismay,
He would show no mercy!  He could not be swayed!
Once declared, their sentence was never stayed!
Though he would allow them to make their plea!

On his first morning, after he opened court,
He would give judgement on each case brought,
Then once proved beyond a shadow of doubt,
He’d carefully mete apt punishment out,
To each prisoner that came into the dock!

First to come ‘up’, was a ‘known’ lawbreaker!
Though a skilled and ‘rising’  craftsman baker
He’d been caught ‘loafing’ with counterfeit ‘dough’!
Evidence was brought. Police ‘kneaded’ to show
The Court, he never did a thing half ‘baked!’

His legs shackled, - which was no surprise,
Was quickly found Guilty, then told to ‘rise’
So this first crook, a very unhappy wretch
Was sent to ‘Leavenworth’ for a long stretch!
Given five years incarceration, for his crime!

A carpenter was the next to be jailed.
Evidence shown was quite ‘plane’!  When ‘nailed’
By the local Cops, they ‘saw’ he had ‘awl’
The loot he’d ‘chiselled’ from a shopping mall.
The Jury  ‘panel saw’ he’d not got it ‘square’!

So it ‘augered’ ill for the carpenter’s fears
When the Judge ‘ruled’,  ‘free board’ for six years!
This cracked the ‘veneer’ he’d worn though the trial.
For prison ‘drill’ would soon wipe away his smile!
Once ‘clamped’ in irons, with others he ‘filed’ away!

The Butcher was next to find himself in a jamb
He’d sold ‘scrag ends’ for ‘prime’ and mutton for lamb!
When the bare ‘bones’ of his case, were fleshed out,
That he was in the ‘soup’, there was no doubt!
While the police asked that he be sent for the ‘chop’!

The Judge declared the punishment he’d ‘meat’ out
Would break the Butcher’s ‘links’ with crime, and had no doubt.
He’d never ‘carve’ his way out of the ‘joint’!
Without ‘mincing’ words, he ‘skewered’ each point
Explaining his ‘beef’.  He was in a proper ‘stew’!

When Police ‘cottoned’ on to a ‘shoddy’ scam
They caught a tailor, ‘embroidering’ a monogram.
‘Patterned’ after that of a famous fashion designer.
Smuggled out in the ‘seam’ of a jacket ‘liner’
This ‘needled’ the Judge, who, with some ‘zip’

And some ‘bias’, ‘felt’ he should practice ‘needlecraft’,
“Stitching’ mailbags for the post office. Hard graft
For a man who had ‘satin’ comfort for a long time.
But ‘fitting’ punishment for a ‘reel’ bad crime!
He praised the  police for ‘buttoning’ up this case!

When Police ‘forked’ over newly ‘dug’ earth
Their ‘spadework’ ‘dug up’ ‘planted’ goods worth
A fortune .  ‘Raking’ through the ‘compost heap’.
‘Embedded’ by a gardener, were, buried deep,
‘Silver Bells’ and a gold chain! This ‘chain, linked’

‘Fences’ to crooks who stole goods on demand.
He’d ‘staked’ all on being put on remand.
But the Judge said I ‘dig’ your kind! ‘Turn over’
A new ‘leaf.  Mould’ and mend your ways.  Moreover
‘Perennial’ felons! Are ‘rooted’ in their ways!

So, ‘till’ you ‘turn over’ your loot and repent,
You’re ‘grounded’! It seems you’re an ‘annual’ event !
You tell me that with this crime, you’ve been ‘framed’,
But I’m sure you’ve not been unjustly blamed!
Five years in a ‘glasshouse’ to sleep in a ‘raised bed’ !

Next, a Furrier and his girl - a sly ‘minx,’
Who went too ‘fur’ when they ‘stole’ a ‘lynx’
A ‘foxy’ pair!  Of this, there was no doubt!
‘Trapped’ in a Police ‘cloak’ and dagger stakeout
They were loaded with ‘pelts’ when caught

Now the Judge, whose ‘ermine’ robes shook with rage
Said the only cure for this type of outrage,
Was to ‘stretch’ them on the ‘rack’, and ‘tan’ their ‘hides’.
This he ‘felt’ would be ‘fitting’ !  Though his insides
Told him he should send them away!  ‘Furbelow’!

A cobbler, without a ‘sole’!  A ‘ low heel’,
This ‘snob’ with an ‘Oxford Brogue’ had a zeal
For stealing! Not the ‘last’ incarcerated.
He was caught ‘legging’ it, while inebriated
His ‘cleats’ leaving ‘patent’ clues to see!

Wearing ‘rubbers’ he’d work in gloves and ‘spats’
Stealing mainly from apartments and ‘flats’
He was down on his ‘uppers’, quite destitute.
When caught with his heavy bag of loot.
A ‘slippery’ customer if ever there was one!

A ‘dandy’ with a ‘black belt’ in Karate!
Was sent by the Judge to a ‘necktie’ party.
He’d killed a haberdasher, without passion -
He complained it was ‘knot’ the current fashion!
But he could  ‘hang’ around until it returned!

Sentences varied but all were most apt.
Strong men turned deathly pale when his gavel rapped!
By sentences received, none were less enamoured,
Than a crooked auctioneer, who got ‘hammered’!
For ‘knocking down’ ‘lots’ ‘under bid’ to himself!

Crook followed crook in quick succession,
Making quite an impressive procession,
As each took his turn in the prisoner’s dock,
He’d turn and face the courtroom clock,
Under which the Judge sat, with solemn face!

The Judge went down in history that day,
With sentences most apt!  What more can we say?
His procedures quickly made the front page,
And soon appropriate penalties were all the rage!
Except for those of the criminal class!

This punishment proved to be a deterrent.
More so, if they were set to run concurrent!
As for waiting crooks, from Con Artist to thief,
When he adjourned court, they sighed with relief!
Hoping they’d get a more lenient Judge later!

Rhymer April 18th, 2018.
Sorry, it's tad long, but I got carried away!  Lol.

while all things have changed.

rubbers are now a derivative of oil,
latex still drips from trees for certain usage.

we talked on god, death and whitsun,
on sunday. we banged the glass, together.

it broke.

there is an island near the holy head.

st michael.

Hard drugs and safe ***
That’s all you need when your life’s a mess
A bit of brown
When you’re feeling down
Can really help
Turn your world around

A tight belt
Then an injection
A bit of foreplay
Time for protection
He rubbers up
And takes no chance
Safety first
In this romance
He needs no bed
Or fancy candles
They do it outside
The ***** scoundrels
He doesn’t want to compromise
Or run the risk
Of another life
He’s got everything
He could ever need
A crack pipe
And some speed

This is no place
To bring up a child
He knows that
They’d rather go wild
They shoot up
And take some blow
Take off their clothes
It’s all on show
She kisses his neck
Like he wants her to
Get the ‘jonny’ out
You know what to do
No emotion
It’s all commotion
A rollercoaster
Of deep devotion
An open mind
And the empty air
Hands entwined
As they lay bare

All he needs is hard drugs and safe ***
That’s all he needs when his life’s a wreck
A bit of brown
When he was down
Gave him a smile
And took away the frown

We used to spend time together,
sitting in your old green beater,
eating ice cream in the park                                                          3 6
I remember you never understanding
my preference for bubblegum and mint flavors over chocolate.

I'd squeeze through this hole in the chain link fence
you would climb it.
I wasn't afraid of getting caught
I knew you would take charge.
And we never did.                                                             ­            3 6    
We would sit at the top of the canal
you would skip rocks.
I could never get the angle right.
I thought that you were so amazing. I loved you.

Surfing was wonderful
I remember loving the feel of the board beneath me
and the water touching my legs
and the smell of it all,                                                             ­      3 5
but I mostly remember how special I felt that you took me with you.
I loved you.

The duck pond by my grandmother's house that we would spend hours together,
feeding the ducks cheap bread and jumping from stone to stone.
You fought off the aggressive geese                                           4 6
I swung myself on the swings while you watched
sometimes you would push me and I felt like I touched the sky.
I loved you.

I remember calling you names in your parents house
insulting ones in jest, because I knew                                         3 4
if I did you would touch me, tickle me,
it made me feel like you loved me too.

But then you started working and you weren't around.
You'd call, but it wasn't the same.                                               7 15
You called me so often talking about when you'd be back around,
when I could see you. I tried to assure you that I was fine. Did I?

You met another girl, you even moved in with her,
so wrapped up that you forgot to turn the lights on and let Tiger die,
your iguana and the boa constrictor that lived in your closet died too.
I remember being sad when you told me.                                 7 8
I think It was an omen now.
Like the death to our own relationship.

This girl was nice, she smiled a lot and sounded sincere
but you stopped calling me "angel".                                          7 8
we didn't sleep together anymore.

Instead when I'd come up to visit you,                                     7 10
you were gone and I slept on the floor while you slept in her bed.
I remember finding the rubbers there underneath, so unclean.

The other girls in your house teased me
because I didn't like horror films, or thrillers
but you would always leave...
So I would sit as far from the tv as possible and cover my eyes and tell myself that you would come out soon or come back.
That you would make it go away because you didn't tease me about it.
One night I got so scared I paced the hallway                          7 8
as quietly as I could trying to calm the pounding and my body shaking.
I almost opened your door but I shouldn't have to rely on you.
I just didn't want to bother you.
I felt like I bothered everyone else there.                                  7 14

I bought candies and gave them to the girls
because I wanted them to like me.                                             7 8
Because you liked them, and I still loved you.

But I felt like you had started to forget about me.
You would say that you'd meet me at noon
and then call to say four                                                             ­ 9 12
until it was six and you said you would see me tomorrow.
I felt like I was a bore, I must be.

After you forgot me multiple times
my mom said that I can't let you dictate my day
no matter how much I wanted to see you.                               9 15  
So I started going on walks when you were late, which was always.
It happened so often that I don't remember how many times.
I felt myself letting go of who I thought you were
because you weren't that person for me anymore.                

We didn't go to the park or eat ice cream or do anything alone.
You brought her everywhere.                                                    7 22
I remember waking up and
not knowing where you were or where you might be.         13 16

And then he came along and was funny,
and liked to eat junk food with me.
We'd swim in his pool                                                             ­    8 9
I thought that I had found someone to heal the hole you left.
But he didn't, he got angry and verbally violent.                   9 12
I was so afraid but I didn't think you could save me.
I didn't tell you.

After you'd call and all
I heard was disappointment in your voice
I lacked education.
You didn't like my isolation.  
And how I needed to get out there.                                         9 16
How I can't let what other people think or do discourage me.
But I did... I let your behavior fill me with discouragement
I thought it was what I was worth.

I thought it was the last straw when I started watching his kids
and you said it wasn't my responsibility
I said that if you had helped me I wouldn't have to.          12 18
That shut you up real fast. Did you feel responsible? At all?
That maybe if you had been a man instead of a boy
you could've seen that I only wanted to be accepted by you,
to have your respect.
You were the first boy I ever knew,                                        1
and my favorite color was blue because it was yours too. 4
You had seemed so sure that my hair would turn
dark brown just like yours;                                                     6
and I would be so sure it wouldn't.

I just wanted to be important to you,
to make you proud, to feel like I was more to you,
to feel loved by you.                                                             ­     0 now

Because I should have been, Dad.
I deserved more... I deserve more from you.                       *always.

Untamed mammals release tensions before mine own eye's. Chains art broke, none more cloaks to hide those dreading thoughts of suicide. Raging dictating swearer's, jewels traded for tools as the sun lowers. Tis this place gets rarer and bare. . . . . . .Cars surround. Compound their rubbers to bullets of blood issued steel. . .Captivating and excruciating. Music to thy ear's turneth to bad news! ! Chess sweepers. Checker winners. Both losers whilst the rest born sinners. . . Costly state pay to fatcat pocket books hands; some issue warnings whilst protective custody issues dull demands. . . . . All prosecution standeth  to issued remaxed detective blogees. . . . . . .redneck respecters cometh with protectors whilst the odd breeds cometh with a dodger. . . . . .mystique, defeat. . . . .to thy hands thou art tied from behind! Move up the latter, tasteth thine coroded own chatter, the deaf art now the blind. . . . . . .

I came, I lied, I learned to do both and better
Poked at people’s smiles and made some myself.
This was college, I woke, I drank, I explored
Stared at girls, got caught, stared at myself and got fatter,
Smoked, laughed, and refused to throw up.
Walked to class, but I did not go through the door
Turned around happy, dizzy and hung over
Outside, Gazed at the sun and forgot I was one.
Ignored my phone, fathers calls and mother
Spoke up my lies, tied lead to my feet.
Met a beautiful demon girl and did some lines.
Woke up again to ***, naked letters, I went to the beat
Listened to music, made some of my own
Wrote poems that rhymed too much, sent them to her
Drove my car on weekends running away with miles
Visited her, the demon, it made me smile some more
More ***, she gave me pills, and we cuddled
Alive, long and strong. She gave me love letters
She broke my heart cheated and ran for cover in France.
I lost my mind my grades, no love for my body
My hands, I still had some rubbers and No one left.
I used them once that summer
More coke, ****, pills, I hung out with friends
Thoughts of suicide all the lead the lies
Thought run away, die, run away, die
Luckily I had friends.

It's me, TIRED...

To be honest, I am a little burned out. I am an important feeling, as well as an important word.
You want to be me so badly that you even say that you're me
You have done nothing to earn me
I feel so ***** when you use me in those un-natural ways
I will not be your scapegoat that you use to fool other sheep!
Why you wanna be me so badly anyhow?
Is it because of this flat earth thing?
I know you say that you're tired of this and that, it's hard to figure.
Trying to be me just to change me?
Well fyi, i am tired when i wake up, tired when i go to bed...
I am tired at my daughter's word graduation
Yes, I named my daughter Drowsy
Let me catch one of you hair brain's using my daughter, and you'll be sleeping with the fishes.
See, I am the original TIRED...that makes me REAL TIRED
There's plenty in my family
You are going against the FAMILY
I treat you nice, right?
Mess around and you will meet my uncle, DEAD
DEAD TIRED
If you ask him, your only good tired, is DEAD TIRED
We will let the coroner be the judge of what you are then.
It is bad enough what you do to those rubber round things on your car
They did not complain, but just showed a little wear
So, what do you do? You changed their name from RUBBERS to TIRES
Just to rub it in that you put your weight, plus the weight of a car on them.
Keep on rolling TIRES...someday may you find some rest my friends

I got these fools

I'm quick to put people in there place and they just put me anywhere
Making me sick and me?
Sick does not hold tired's hand
I don't even like what SICK does
Sick goes along with whatever just for attention
Just like you try to make me go along with your wide eyed lies?

Hey wiseguy
Kiss my ring or you can forget about it
Words are in the family, and dear to my heart

I don't even know how to feel right now

Knock it off meatheads, or you will see what is important

Now, go on, and remember, don't speak my name unless you're asleep...in that case, it's ok to dream
I got guys there too...family

Now stop trying to be me, gangsta...or get you some of me!

the REAL tired...and fam

PS. No little birdy better not show up and tell me things I don't want to hear. That birdy doesn't deserve the trouble.

the rule of thumb is: you really can't go mad twice, no matter how much you try, it happens only once, and soon enough you regain a footing, on a plateau of lucidity.

and it happened to me, i thought we had a verbal
contract, a sort of understanding,
  some locket of trust -
  as i charmed a swan out of *loch lomond
to her giggling pleasure,
     and charmed her with a bedroom filled
with candles,
      i should have known that with my third
persistent impotence she was trouble -
   by the fourth she turned into melting butter...
i can and will be an *******,
  i gather that, but there's only so much
mea culpa crap i'll mantra into my life,
we had a deal, she even suggested to be on
anti-contraceptive pills, because she hated
the rubber inside of her:
  talk about a reality check in the alternative
universe of ***** latex ***,
where the whole body is attired in a catwoman
outfit...
    never mind...
         and when she called me hysterical
about hearing voice saying: i think i'm pregnant,
i told her: you know what you have to
do? what? get an abortion...
   i'm still punching myself in the face from
time to time about that,
but i only said in shock what anyone would
say in shock, then again,
  being a man: i have no chance at redemption...
by my own honest shame even golgotha is
a ******* **** mountain of insignificance...
    i retracted my position on the "enforcement"
weeks later,
   but but then she was already on track
in her insidious ways... wooing another worthy
pundit...
     i'm not painting a picture of a saint,
just another schmuck who stumbled upon a great
****...
             who was promised contraceptive
precautions, who didn't mind the rubbers as much
as "circumcising" himself during *******
by pulling his ******* back, ending up with
a purple pheasant head...
       point being, then the attempted ******:
a complete fail,
   yes, i understand,
           abortion, bad, ******: acceptable if
the person is alive...
       i get the cosmic joke,
      i deserved the attempted ******,
like i deserved the wooing of a girl of 19
with a swan and loch lomond sunset -
   and her scheming plans to "settle down" -
like **** she settled down, last time i visited her
she was already married,
  and at a party, with the slashes arm down
the route of veins, talking to some other guy brag:
oh, i ******, great ****...
     am i worried about being a suburban
cenobite these days?
    no... not really...
           only mostly, in that i am looking
at the greatest mistake that ever came my way
in life: a woman...
       and i did have the antithesis of atheism
happen to me, a psychosis -
or what's called:
    having an awakening with regard to a soul...
a second breath, a thought with a body,
the feeling of a grand puppeteer and the inversion
of unconsciousness, onto an otherwise
formerly body of perfected obedience...
  it still bothers me,
for all i know the kid has been born,
  she's a russian national,
  she's a madwoman,
               if ever the kid would have me talk
about his mother and his surrogate father
he'd blink once, turn pale & subsequently die...
    i "hear" this buzzing in me left ear
that i attribute to: why aren't you paying alimony?!
i'm supposed to pay alimony,
      for what, for a lie?!
  oh right, man up, man this, man that,
              i have enough ******* that states:
there's no chance of pregnancy if you
planned it... well thank **** i didn't...
   the "passing on of genes* argument,
that english existential blackmail argument
is about done, which is what all english philosophy
is these days: blackmailing...
       genes are there, the little ****** wasn't
aborted, someone tried to **** me,
i'm still here, the argument's over...
    there's a balance attained...
and yes, that sentiment by bukowski is spot on:
some people never go mad,
  what horrible lives they must lead...
and don't they? opinionated *** cracks unable
to summon ****-pant into the bedroom
having courted a swan beside the shore
of a scottish lake...
  to later find that she cheats on her husband
and i'm not the husband...
          yes, i did suggest her having an abortion,
but she didn't exactly suggest:
let me move to london with you...
  she sure as **** managed to follow a rich boy
from st. petersburg to edinburgh,
no! i'm done with this mea culpa crap!
i'm done with english existentialism being
nothing more than bribery!
  i'm tired! tired tired tired!
              o.k. fair enough, i can settle on
a status quo, but i can't settle on a friend of mine
acting out the judge, the jury & the executioner
part, i apologised for the suggestion
of abortion, i wanted to make amends,
to retract my original position,
   but was i given a chance? no...
     did she keep up with her infidelities? yes...
    did i keep my status as a suburban cenobite?
sorta... broke it with a ******* after
getting bored with my hand...
    oh, what great horror, when one of them
exclaimed after a string of onomatopoeia
"nursery" rhymes of ******:
  that's been the second time;
what the **** does it take these days,
    a slaughterhouse akin to auschwitz to compare
to the moderately good, but sincerely un-evil man?
guess i'll have to showcase evil
in some perverse way to get the proper
badge of "honour" around here...
   for striving down the middle is about
as recognisable as ******* a pig, donning
a facemask of a goat singing:
  jingle bells, jingle testicles,
                     banging all the way;
might as well call it the moment *** became
******...
    you know why the pharaohs had eunuchs
to guard their harems?
   you do know, right? no ****** back in those
days...
   can't keep a harem without entertainment,
the eunuchs were the ****-lords of the harems,
they were the modern prozzies!
the pharaoh ****** these women to *******
and have heirs, but he needed ****** to
"protect" the harems for entertainment purposes...
****... the ****** "guards" did more *******
than the pharaohs; thus said:
you can compliment the size of king solomon's
harem,
       admire it...
   but back when ****** was not available,
you really can expect me to believe in solomon's
******* stamina... the size of the harem
i can imagine, the stamina of the kind? nope,
esp. since there was no ****** to turn that
limp donkey of a phallus into a galloping
steed, revising 1000+ bored "housewives".

We enslaved by the mind why you think they called brain cells,yea it's eight planets so I'm guessing that it's more hells,they aiming for me wit slow bullets call em turtle shells,yea I got a quarter so I'm looking for the wishing wells,say Ima die early man I'm calling that them fairy tales,rapping like I'm casting spells,only taking W's ion really take no L's,and if I did it's a lesson,if I learned it's a blessing,living life like I'm just testing,my opponents they just guessing,changing things like I'm the setting,on the path like I'm just destined,out the box I'm never checking,gods gift I come from heaven,starting things like Armageddon,yea my voice  a deadly weapon,asking me a who you threating,officer like why sweating,I want the top like I'm the heading,no conclusion,I do this for my brothers  the ones that's on the street and sometimes don't even got they mothers,using drugs as they covers,bussing guns with no rubbers,killing each other like wild lovers life is like a war x2 so what you stand for,is it  them Jordan's on your feet,or that song that's on the radio and you only like the beat,this worlds a trick and not a treat,we don't live by they rules so they trying say we cheat,then they **** us with that heat,give our movas the receipt,and it's going stop we just gotta see,you don't gotta be foreign,washing up on the shoring,when I see make up on women ,catch  Z's like I'm snoring,expand the mind like we touring,clean up our mess like we choring,treat ignorance like it's boring

Rubbers ones for scrubbers,
Toilet pans and kitchen sinks.
Me thinks.
Non-latex ones for cleaning bums.
Bums of mums.
Bums of dad's.
Bums  of bums upon the streets.
How sweet.
*** scrubbing,
Protection.
For you and I.
Plastic see through ones for preparation.
Rapid food.
Keep cold hand warm on winter's days.
How many pairs of gloves do we go through?
That is the question of the day.
(C) LIVVI

.get to a million get to a million...
it's no dickens or a shakepeare... but...
get to a million get to a million...
it's not your everyday tabloid column...
but... get to a million get to a million...

all words outside of the italics...
said... really... real... slowly...
         Eeyore: sore...
                           i like how...
sodden sad i am with... a spike
milligan rendition of...
by the barrel of the rhyme -
this nonsense has to... be gloated...
float... 'ted...
             ballloons and buzzing... etc.

and those italics?
   gerbil on asteroids... and on steroids...
and... on amphetamines...
basics: on a cocktail...
   nibbling ferociously...
so ferociously that...
                      the tongue disappears...

i already have a: tomorrow will be...
"good"...
i don't like being pandered...
and this is that story of
a princess sleeping on twenty matresses...
agitated by an uncooked pea...

needle in the haystack for me...
this most perfect day...

   i'm using this old post-soviet
piece of equipment and...
it works brand new...
none of the samsung cheap ***** made
in china...
if i'll have my may...
and the garden needs no imporvement:
a new shed... blah...
it already looks like a building site...
i managed to tranfer a tonne of
birdseye pebbles from
the service road into the garden...

imagine the fate... of those...
sentenced to: kamieniołomy...
a quarry... i'm not exactly deluding myself
in the act already deluding me...
a hammer... perfecting what was
a farmers' suntan just below the elbows...
so i rolled my sleeves up...
for compensation...

   imagine sentencing a man to work
among stones... friko! gratis!
for... the "blessing"...
       but if i take the walk...
this, walk... i'm keeping up appearances
up to a point... then the masquerade is over...
nothing to hear but ***** horses...
magpies... woodland pigeons and crows...
nothing of assorted competing
propaganda placentas...
no cushions: no bed: count sheep...
that, tiresome, task?
how about making out: complex
"geometry" from clouds...
see castles? see swans?
see devils charging into battle
having donned the men-yoroi?!

the past... and so much for the romance...
the vikings should be known as:
the warlike gypsies... ******* pikeys and all!
sword for a harmonica...
a longboat for a... heap of castanets...
and... that... accordion? no?
the new... "napels"?
the violin... the new sax...
new: yo! ollie!
    *******...
  
         - i said i'd ******* walk it!
i did it once come sunset...
i said... i did it once in reverse: got lost:
feet became muddied...
i returned...

             this is where we'd part...
i'd ******* from the B175...
parallel to the orange tree pub...
next to the bower house...
   when walking? no point taking
the B175 up to A113... no... seriously...
there isn't...

into the havering country park...
how many times...
did i walk this "short" and "narrow"...
letting off the body known
that the breath is bound
to a duality of soul...
and "more lungs to uncover...
major major"...

       exercise: gym: pristine **** film
perfect... swimming is fun...
riding a bicycle is fun...
the rest remains a vanity project...

         i might as well be hoarding...
so from having made an exit via
B175... i end up coming back into
contact with traffic... at...
via hainnault forest of course...
at... A1112...
          
when it was especially crisp...
and winter was the *****...
watching the widow and widower swans...
at moonlight...
that's the only:
that's the best time to appreciate swans...
come a fullmoon... come the trickling
of mercury into the details of:
ghostly white: for the worth of swans...
and none other...

  and if i meet a Wordsworth on the way?
i'll strangle him with a shoelace...
hell... i'll hang him by one...
tell 'im to sniff a boot on the way out...
and a soggy sock: for practice...

from what i read:
so much for the countryside while at the same
time having... to entertain...
the garden prior to the fall:
a ****-buddy of a sister...
the foreboding mid-west...
televangelists and a-o.k. ******:
   like that physicist... who said:
brother and sister have a get together:
as long as: rubbers included...

caricature on the simpsons...
google-whacking won't even allow me
search results...
then again: sloppy seconds...
    'ere we go: lawrence krauss...
simpsons guy...
  
robinson crusoe ahoy! quick!
sink... this... ******* ship!
let's me it look like a melodrama
for environ... mentalists...
let's make it look like a beached
whale... rather than a ghost wreck
holding lost secrets of lineage:
among the arabs? muhammad ibin...
         ibin...
among the jews? yeshua ben...
   ben... blah: ibin! blah ben!

- so so much for solo...
  solo violin, solo piano...
solo... rubbing chicken with carribean
**** sauce... slaughtering a lamb,
kosher, also solo...
    ham solo... solo: project undertaken
with concern for...
no concerns except for: solo...
soloist... soliloquy... solipsism...
bored mushroom head: kanughonzagi
shimoto hiroshimmyshimmy oops...
bulldozer... machine 'ed on... 'ed off...
a party twick: don't look so surprised...

that's: "not me in your third person"
gemoetry...
well... within the trinity, secular...
of the son, ego, the father, superego...
and the holy spirit of id...
jerking off is on the same platitude
of performing *******...
in verse of reverse: eating an oyster
or a floral "pattern"...

here's to not having to find strangers:
notsably pakistani men willing
to convert...
thank be for the jews: at least they can't
convert you: ****** in them the concept
of being chosen...
like this mirage of static...
perhaps the wind does disturb this
equilibrium... then again... does it?

upon the altar of the sky before me...
a curious "star"...
that it isn't...
it has to be a planet...
i'm guessing that it's either
Venus or Jupiter...
and if my naked eyes were able to
decipher the experience...
from what the postcard of
Saturn looks like: truly:
flesh, blood and eyesight to
compensate:
why do almost all alien lifeforms concern
me with microscopic items?
i had to wrestle a mammoth
i had to overcome a tiger...
i didn't exactly find myself:
finding *****...
champagne and l.s.d. but not
mushrooms...
the fungus hitchhiker of 1960s
psychadelic intelligenstia...

i need to only die this once...
there is no god: there is no god...
"god"...
this is a house... that requires
a breath to deem it: an abode...
a home is a foreign concept in the mouth
of a mongolian horde...
crimea if a capital...

      a tartare steak... a raw herring
in yogurt sauce with apples and gherkins...
a spice for the palette...
if tomorrow is supposedly a day...
i will sacrifice a dream: all dreams!
for a day like i plan for tomorrow...
to come into contact with reality...

no love is ideal... even that of a madman...
or a gisberg... homosexual latex gimp
plaything... savvy?!
two to a rucksack
of the tow of beers i need to give birth
to a quasimodo...

"broken": to have broke - sober -
then drunk... the barking of a drop load
of ******* of an alsatian...

   we so tire... we all must tire so...
such: we! sire: i! oh... but i'm not bargained
to don a crown!
pontius pilate... the escapade
of the thief... of the coward...
or the status quo tactician...

by now... does it... would it...
even... even ******... *******... matter
to parade in all that pomp and desires
for a spontaneity of... ahem...
"spontenity"?!

better worded: i agree: genius to genius...
one would never curse...
etiquette! my boor and bore...
one must be well fashioned
to stage the pirouette of "proper"
knife and fork handling...
as... the napkin is to supposed to be bound
to never find any better use!

the air i want to breathe...
              is it... really...
the complications of chemistry...
curb... no new: every old...
           one always has to find it necessary
to fall in love with paris...
and grow perptually boring
within the confines of london;
apparently all else... vivo per se...
is supposed to "happen" & "here"!