Whyever can nobody spell anymore?
It's starting to cause me concern:
For as long as I wait,
                                   as far as I go,
It's the one thing that no one has learned.


How can it be that the grammar
Of the world is on sharp decline?
The words that they say,
                                          the sentences short
Grind sensitive ears and mind.


I know that I slip into lapses, too
Where I no longer care for perfection;
I say "runned" and use "i"
                                           where a capital would stand
Though no one's around for correction.

I saw a cat runned over by a car call it a roadkill;
It seems that the driver enjoyed it came back a bit just to feel
The pain the poor cat is suffering,twitching as it gasp for air to breathe;
Even knowing that life will never come back still curious till' the cat's heart stop to beat.

So I came to think and ponder a bit while walking my way to work;
While still ****** and keep saying to myself that driver is a total ****!
He could have let the cat pass! Not pacing up for a merciless ****;
With a smirk to an evil grin while pretending he's sorry after quenching his thrill.

And so I told myself what if the devil was a lie and God do not exist?
So could this evilness that surrounds us is worst without judgment? Will it ever be cease?
With a mind worst than the so called devil himself sitting on a throne ruling the entire land;
Without a soul to be tormented waging wars giving orders! Fierce like a beast with an iron hand.

The world will never rest and keeps spinning as bloodshed and chaos revolves around;
If goodness is only meant to be for the weakest heart then what's the point of love being unbound?
I had enough of this thoughts so I'm just going to continue living for what it is there for me tomorrow;
I kept holding onto my faith that there is a God that keeps saving us and relieves our pain and sorrow.

I stumbled over a perfect dream
As the moonlight made me feel
Like I was the only one
She wants to give a smile
And whisper in my ear
Tonight you are only mine

As an empty page to be filled
With sweetest stories and some dreams
I runned into the world
With the heart sawn onto my sleeve
Forgetting about the wounds
That made me feel so weak

Into seedless grape I changed that day
Not by wish but by my faith
Kissing with the rain
Smiling to the moon
Dancing with my soul
I never thought I would

I stumbled over a perfect dream
As the moonlight made me feel
Like I was the only one
He wants to give a smile
And whisper in my ear
Tonight you are only mine

This dream I never thought I had
Made me feel like seedless grape

society tries to label me
mallet me, with no jurry
peers pressure me, but when face with thier problems , scurry in a hurry, to avoid the face that truly knows them.

People aviod me, yet call me out,
but if they lived in my head they would know whos pain can make a fist clentch with regret and eyes roll in disrespect,
my sanity is runned by the bottle,
i try to stay calm, but i just press forward to later look back and shout
my regards to all that was never part of my scars but should  been because my life lessons are just that hard.

Love is ****, but easily replaced, friends come and go, but what you said to those in the bottom will be remembered, words in the air you cant erase.

I learn to trust myself, love myself, fear myself,
cause only  i can build and destroy.

Squeezing out water droplets
Just before bed
I'm reminded of what I miss
The definition of what I called "freind"
Was changed eternally

I ran out of work manic,
Raced to the tatoo shop
And got what I had wanted for so long
A fish fossil right there on my forearm
Coverings for angry cuts
I went home and cleaned it, runned it down with lotion
And I'm reminded of this familiar sting

Flashbacks hit
And I was 14 again
Sitting on the porch with you nursing my wounds
My arms were swollen and sore
Sliced from top to bottom
And you were the only soul I told
You wrapped me up in bandages
And showed me yours
You said "see we're both ******* up!"

8 years later I lie on a mattress in a living room floor
Punched in the gut by the thought of you
And how you could take your own life
..you also took my best freind

Emptiness has this warm subtle sting and I'd rather feel pain than nothing
But it's not self destruction anymore, it's therapy

And it makes me feel close to you.

Sometimes it takes time
For me to find a word
That describes you
Most times ur facing down
When you smile you become vertical
Or when excited
Diagonal when you lose your way
Into a new path without me
As I end the search
You have already runned away
Fading to the hell

Truly I got comfortability.
I was looking for a heart to love I got it.
I runned through miles
Shouting the word with 4 letters.
My voice was deep and emotional.
Thinking I am nothing but a loser.

All neighborhood were laughing at me.
Saying he is a monk .
He is scared.
He is a bachelor .
He can't start a  family.

But he change the negativity into activity.
Now I got one to love .
One to share with.
One to make no regrets with.
She is the one who give the comfortable heart and the one who I will lean by her

No more tears, because you don't care no more.  Once you use to worry about every little thing he does but now your like i dont f**cking care. What you use to feel and the feeling you use to embrace and liked in the past has faded away between it, s journey to the future. Time do have a way in the way everything works. Time makes you realize and sometimes regret what you can''t change.  Love was once there but i guess....... It has runned its coarse.

When I looked at the amazing night sky,
I promised myself to not to cry
I slipped back to my stories,
where once my childhood stays
memories once locked, unlocked cause of the sight
sitting at doorstep on my mother's lap,
never runned out of stories even if water doesn't from the tap
Immersed in her stories,never knowed the food which had
too much salt
now I'm craving for her stories which was once came into halt
reminiscing those old good stories of her,
I wish,I could become a child again...

dark days don't die in his sinning soul...
fearless guy, wearing the tie he stole...
yes, his heart is cold, but his hands are golden...
yes, his days are sold, for all near pond can hold in...

you turn your life into a thriller, who do you want to avenge?
are you just a ******-killer? or do you really solely seek revenge?
Xiasheng Mafian?



with black suit and steps like Drums....
hHe's on his route, and here he comes...

from ashes of deadly rain...
gunpowder flashes behind hidden pain...
eyes burn behind his cynic smile...
tides may turn, but stays the bile...
my Xiasheng Mafian....



lost child filled with dread, only survivour of the affair...
karma might be dead, but she's still so unfair...

kid, drop your toy, the wolf is big and bad...
innocent boy, who just lost his dad...

single bullet made man mute, now he'll never see the sun....
you sure can shoot, but can YOU run?
Xiasheng Mafian?



you had your revenge now. his corpse is hid in faeces...
but do you still remember how? to pick up the pieces?
to escape The consequences, of your killing syndrome?
will you find your finest sences, and go back home?

remember what the man said, before his blood stopped to seethe?
well sometimes we ARE already dead, even before we seize to breathe...
remember that Xiasheng Mafian...



and here she comes! the crimson lady, made from sharpest blades....
eco of her voice turns vision shady, while hope silently fades....
she wants the killer of her brother, of the man who killed your wife!
now she wishes nothing other, than to take your ****** life!

but have no fear my frantic friend, as you only live to fight....
do you feel the smell of upcoming end? Closer Comes the Claret light!
for you my Xiasheng Mafian....



soon soon soon! gunfire behind your doors!
Close Comes the noon! one of the bullets is yours!
her men surrounded your mansion, and she comes in!
even MY Lungs stop their expansion! when your time runned thin....
she freed you from the voice, running through your head....
the sound of your wifes rejoice, once lost in all the red....

my poor Xiasheng Mafian....



burried withouth a stone, in his own graveyard of thick water....
where neither dead moan, for this despicable rotter....
this gentleman and great husband, who wanted to pour blood....
to take the killers life, for which he lays in mud....

were you the hero, do you rest in heaven? or were you the villain, who burns in hell?
your lucky number might be Seven! but only Four times rings the bell...
my Xiashen Mafian...



your infamous name fades into the void of vain...
your flame burned out, while god danced in rain...

and on the shore of pond holding your body...
absent of sore, dressed utterly gaudy...
with his croaking rife Raven sings in black...
"look! life for life! the cost of payback!
you used to laugh! but wheRe is now youR bReath?
do you see the dove? deaR don deah!"


do you.. my husband mafian?

The place in
Cuba
Runned by Americans
Is the next
Most haunted place
On earth
As there was horrific acts
Done there
Second to the great wall
This
This place
Guantanamo Bay
A portal to hell

The pain i feel, in my heart so great.

A winter love, but all was fake.

My tears are pouring, as snow melts.

I loved her so, but she someone else.

The tears of losing, someone you loved

Has just runned out, like a dead man’s blood.

If wishes were horses
If life is bed of roses
I'd wish to ride a royal herdic
Joy said " this life is phasic"  
This is not Harry Potter that you can make a magic
This world is just sadistic
The people we trust are Judas...Poisoning our love and feeding us hate
People getting divided because of their faith
I wish we could start being more realistic...And people will stop being fake
If wishes were horses
Yeah what about the beggars
Running from one streets and buses
Some even runned by big cars
Did they wished for this life
Do you think that's what they choose to like?...You think they are cursed by life?
Or maybe that's just their life?
Correction! That's just a lie
People may be born in poor
But they're not born to be poor
Wealth is a blessing and not genetic
To be poor is a lesson and not a verdict
You wake up one morn God blessed you to have it more
Good health, wealth and even more
You look down on others because of your dime?
I get it, you're blinded by them, it's just the gift of time
Suddenly you behave heartless
The orphans, widows and homeless  
Beautiful people who had only known disaster
Afflicted with tragedies and pain
Displaced from home, despised by men
Victims of violence, drugs and ****
Can you even feel their pain?
I doubt if you even know their names
Because you call them names
They're people, hurt by people
The rich people  poor people
Just people, we're all people in this road of life!
They're beautiful even though their lives hasn't been
They may be harm by men but they're loved by christ
I wish you wouldn't have to face this life alone
I wish what happened to you weren't the truth
In this life we're all fighters , you're a warrior and you're not alone
You may be weak but with God you'll always pull through... HE will shine your way through the valley
You'll always be his pally
Teachers and preachers won't determine your merit...You're a child of God be proud of your title
God is with you, you will win the battle

oh this night, this sobering "cold":
well... it's no longer cold
said a Scouser to a Londoner:
it's no longer deemeable to say "cold":
it's actually freezing... and it is...
my face is pinched with a thousand angry
chickens
i'm drooling my snot is freezing on
my 'tash
               and there are ***** on the ends
of what used to be my fingertips:
but i'm happy like so
with moon and shadows
and all that flamboyant romanticism of
language that escapes the modern
secular
post-communist = post-colonial
and with the new advent of "communism":
see... at least when the Slavic people
tried out communism
it worked for a while and it's o.k. that it
worked for a while...
but the fetish of communism in the west:
the western fetish for a communism
with an archetypical evil of a ****:
a communism of ethno-centric mitigation...
like...
stressing the importance of how
the schematic the dissection of man was
achieved...
i can understand the superego as something
that is concentrated within the realm
of external forces of check...
an external societal norm of expectations
and playing chess
because there are rules...
3D chess i can explain in the internet
arcade of robot wars... fair enough...
but for games to be played there is a need
to implement rules: otherwise there's no
game to begin with...
imagine that sort of disorientated game
of entitlement and equal outcome
in a game a chess: well that would make
the idea, merely the idea: of playing,
a game of chess... a lot like: pointless?!
see, i love the two experience of dreams:
there are dreams i have whereby i do image
arithmetic and then there are dreams were
i simply dream of words:
as if looking up from reading a book
on the London tube...
London... aha... the star constellations
look so different south of the river...
but i get it: the superego as not part of my
schematic:
i can do with the ego-id dualism
but i can't stomach the hyphen being infiltrated
by a *******-upped Freud giving me
the internalisation of the superego as
momma and papa while society is no big brother
the superego externalised like how
the starfish eats by throwing up its cloud
of stomach or how the fly vomits on its food
then ***** it up... tasteless:
consciousness is devoid in this world of
paraphrase:
         at least if the superego is external and
part of societal infrastructure...
then at least it's not an internalised conflation:
rigid... ******* monstrosity
but even Christ couldn't create a draft
trinity
having his mother exluded from the mix
because how must have it happened
when John the Baptist did that thing with Jesus
and the dove descended and
if not two people then at least three heard
upon that signture of baptism:
he's my son... and i'm proud of him...
who? Jesus? or John the Baptist?!
Christianity has become a sort of covert-synonym word
for Communism in the mouths of western Liberals
when a new fashion statement of not treating
thoughts as freedoms
but instead fashion statements and trendy
parrot behavior settles...
the right kind of Christianity would invoke
the Church establishing a pontif with a bride...
Protestantism tried that
and it workek for a while but then Christianity
died because of the ordeal of time biology
and geology
so if you think of Communism as a time-constrained
experiment
you can start thinking of Christianity
as a time-constrained experiment that is unnanutral
by now: count 2000 years:
because how many lives are to be lived
for Christ to reach the limit of 33 springs
but still not married or fathering children
becoming a Hebrew patriarch?
i do wonder... so no wonder why the church
the institution has problems with only
alligning itself with pedophiles and homosexuals...
since... the woman is desecrated:
instead of the celebration of woman
we have this bogus shallow of church...
well it's never a Tsarist Russia and the Serfs
it's always this western narrative and
the African slaves: it's never about the Russian
serfs...
this darkest murk
this inability to lounge these Polacks
becaue oh so hard to be working in the sugar cane
fields and not the ****** whiggers
working the coal mines:
it's always the ******* juice-ash of Holocaust
in concentration camps but never the Slavic
workers of earth unearthing darkness of
the ****** bunker...
at least in idea the ideal slaughter
but being kept alive: to do the ***** work?
even Gone with the Wind alludes to when
Miss Goodietow-lost-a-shoe
begins her business venture
and employs some white-oh-yoyos
to dig for her
and no ******* ****** in sight
oh jeez these pseudo-communists have left
my **** in the form of a slobbering oyster
of a ****...
i find myself unable to return to Poland
and i can't stay in England
and i can't make the US my home
so i need to think about Polynesia and
making a Genghis Khan implosion:
like i told Edie when she dumped the carcas
of Musubi on the garbage ****:
through the needle with the rich men we walked:
i said i was dreaming...
and i need to find Taiwan but not Thailand...
because the beast of the sea needs to meet
the beast of the earth
and fire was baron...
such a long poem i wrote to Edie
about vikings and the desperation of the Poles
for Danzig, which precursored London
as the global advent of intellect:
where Farhenheit was born and bothered
Celcius
that i am sure: Calvin never spoke to Luther
and then just the origins of originals:
the sin being a plagiarism...
realising when sleeping a full breadth of day
i am both
lactose and apple intolerant:
i **** thoroughly throughout ingesting both...
so i am PAGAN therefore i was born yesterday
and there are three monotheisms and a Buddha ****...
well... one of these supposed monotheisms
became complicated and became the polyglot
polytheism of the same person
a mirror hall... not something truly geometric
Islam emerged as counter to Judaism
a competitor and Christianity
a fools errand...
fool Christ no saviour...
without marriage then "they" conjured the possbility
in the French as there: was always a lineage
and inheritance tax...
to stop history
and revert to some Apollonian Atlantis...
but in this murk of Dionysian murk and
smiles-of-chaos...
             i see a nunnery
and where i received my first diaper...

i said the Vandals are coming: for the wind
of and the wing of metallic birds...
i leave that poem with you dear
Edie: like in that movie: Heat
Val Kilmer, Al Paccino and snot
freckle... i can't remember his name...
i see his face: i can't remember his name:
Alfredo... Alfonso...
Herald: Harrold: Harrah...
the godfather junior...
maybe his politics negates him
i'm not escaping London for Kauai and the golf...
i hate golf... i'm invested in trenches...
i need to caress my mind, somewhat...
the Taxi Driver:
i can't remember the actor's name!
weird!
who was not Al Paccino
you ******* scream at me!
i'll ******* scream back!
when you think!
i'll dream!
i'll eat...               oh right... Robert... DeNiro...
Da-Nero...
                    
    the electricity shut down
when i mentioned: the Quran was written
by Khadijjah... the elder wife of Muhammad:
i thought: or so i heard:
that Muhammad was illiterate...
not dyslexic jumble
but outright illiterate:
so who wrote the Quran if not
his older wife?

then my electricity allowance runned out...
oh... but i... marinated this argument
beside of the womb
of woman...
i came here to tame the womb of man:
that of nothing: and i am... here...
        
i was born yesterday
i am:
POGANIN...
and i'm scrutinising monotheism...
and i see
a Jewish Arab war
and i don't want to become
involved as a third party
secular
             monotheism...
          Arabs can do their Jews
and the Jews can do their Arabs:
i don't need you like the Mongols
don't need Hinduism... savvy?!
truly?! are, we, savvy?!

there was so much else i wrote:
about the Baltic Eye and seeing the futures
in the erruptng gauge of
sight bleeding a water
a tight...                      slither me a proper
pop spreschen...
i do i do
                 ach macht frei!