You step out into the world and its tendrils seek to entwine.
It takes away my hopes and all the dreams I once held as mine.

You are faced with expectations and choices so not of your own.
You come to think it not so bad when life is both empty and alone.

It becomes just easier to forget about hope and any form of dream.
Responsible to self and away from expectations endless scream.

You close the world outside behind your safeties solid door.
And give up on love and dream like clothes discarded on the floor.

You accept a life of little value and so too the feel it will never end.
All for reassurance outside consequence wont reach in to offend.

I write of being sad and lonely in many of the poems that I write.
But I am conscious, it is I who cast love and hope out into the night.

Academic conversations about consent are a pure form of agony,
Listening to students and Professor toss around the word like it's a hypothetical commodity,
As if there is question that autonomy and dignity belong to every living thing in that room.
We are asked to dissect the most intimate of physical safeties as if this is a lesson in biology,
Solve 'consent' like a particularly challenging calculus problem,
Pretend as if this didn't happen in the confines of my body.
It's excruciating to have to take an equation,
We'll start with y=mx+b,
And calculate which variables determine basic human decency.
I was young, female, gay, autistic, bipolar,
Clinging to his professions of love like they could stitch the gaping emotional wounds,
And somehow that didn't make me human when he did the math.
I don't know how to argue, Professor, with which philosophical tools,
Professor, that I was a person, Professor,
When he decided to **** me.

liturgies of lethargy
lull their sleepy tongues,
and run among my stumbling dreams
towards the visceral setting sun
keep the soldiers’ safeties off and order no retreat
you can’t afford to chip your teeth for the price of being numb
stay glassy eyed and leave your pride
behind the backs of bus seats
with notes, sharpie, and lies
these men are not what they seem
this world is a messed up dream
while the elite claim to delete the supposed deadbeats
as if they deplete the city’s concrete streets
i want to scream
they’re really the secret
to keeping the working class alive in the heat
to keep the coffee shops open on every street
to keeping the cheap soda purchased
at the indiscreetly laundering cover up convenience stores
you would only see when you’re walking pavement
breathing in the scent of cigarettes and pollen spores

better than an autobiographer, a chronicler... when you die you'll find me among Bulgarian prostitutes sneezing good luck when your try to reinvented the airs surrounding the English monarch taking a **** into her crown... i know there's this thing concerned with tattoos and peacocks, but established peacocking, passed from generation to generation is just silly; animal plateaus with what man calls democracy - survives as long as the majority is kept asexual and the few engage in the acts of fleshy gymnasiums.

i like nights like these, no poems, no scaffold, nothing
to get to grips with... the last day of the Olympics turns out
to be boring... father talking about Irish Nazis
with that ironic motto of *Abreit Macht Frei
like a singalong - working Sundays,
the Irish **** thinks he has Romanians
under his belt he can goose-strut
toward a failed project... you rarely hear
of construction industry's blunt racism...
but it's there, and they dare call it
the enlightening Europe...
no wonder Islam is attacking former colonial
nations, makes the argument speedy
and solidified... it does **** me off..
you watch these anti-Chinese poets
labour words: but at the same time say
things like: depeche mode's 'words are
unnecessary, words like violence,
words are unnecessary, they can only do harm',
not the poets, those who practice poetry
and try to keep the status quo...
i hope the Irish sinking in the frozen
waters of Titanic met their hamster angels,
i really do... not man enough as a featherweight
to box against a Klitschko, fair enough...
but mind you: words are everything,
this stance to avoid the meaning of words
is not s much anti-biblical (in the beginning was
word, and with god was destined to reside) -
later man came along, and recognising that
certain pieces of information were implanted
in words he decided the stuffing was too much...
better do a Christina Aguilera -
words can't hurt, can't infringe -
so we're basically backing up to the utility of
sign language, or punches...
back in the monkey haven... so much for the theory
of evolution... are you saying we shouldn't be using
words? that's basically what you're saying...
keep it simple... keep it ~friendly....
ensure the idea persists, but that language doesn't...
we were never going to agree,
neither was William the Conqueror with Saxon swine...
i know a schwab when i sehen one...
a stick has two ends... edition of being struck over
the head... edition of being hit in the ******* another...
but i just like days, when there's nothing meaningful in my head...
it's all helium giggles at that point...
going to the supermarket to buy whiskey
two white ****** and a dozen black hyenas march in
with me... **** small? not really... well, the ultimate
freedoms, i'm scuffling speedy Gonzales (next thing
on the censor's list of forbidding acquisition of control),
it's just fun to watch and fun to watch
looking at the stereotype skinheads...
words like violence, break the silence -
words... mm, in general i call that perfected coordination,
Moses and Prometheus, in ideogram of Egyptian
stole the meaning, later translated into skeleton Hebrew...
no prince talks the language of slaves...
no point kissing rosy Christ's backside right now...
i just want them to attempt their **** with success,
i just hate living out a life as an ensured ******* for
their safeties... it gets boring when they fail...
so you get my bearing... Nazis in England on
construction site... mainly Irish Nazis...
taboo or as some would call it: no ***** to attack
their former colonial masters... so attack the
colonisers... **** first... the head comes second...
oh the moaning and groaning of women...
**** ahoy! the men are expendable.
2 white ****** and a dozen hyenas running into
the supermarket after an **** to buy red bull
energy drinks... prancing around the city centre with
wild pride... an alcoholic rat scuttles past with
the words: what the **** are these clowns on about?
you think these girls will be able to raise a family
for their shortcut attempt at impersonal ******?
they're charity shop material... i'm not imposing
a Hijab... just saying...
what a lovely feeling, what gratification after
visiting a *******... moments like these are
just there, i'm hardly fighting for the English rose...
more like fighting over a Scottish thistle...
prostitutes are great tools when looking at society...
you get baptised in their waters lubricated without
any social cohesive reaction... that's the greatness
of prostitutes... you feel nothing when such examples
propose themselves to be viewed...
prostitutes are the greatest anaesthetic providers...
you can or don't have to believe me...
i'd rather be in their company, the fullest spectacle
of transparency... because it's not really the freedom
women and men encounter, i'm in full of support of that...
**** as much and as many as you want...
the problem is bound to Satan... the original fruit
constantly evolves with the evolution of the godhead...
i thought it was about *******... but given this
spectacle... it's actually more about LIES...
lies create spies and governments, they also create
false moral physiques... they're so ******* horrid
that you end up wanting to watch your girlfriend
**** a hundred ***** than to hear her say
that she's a nun... scout's honour... lies are worse
than the acts... everyone wants to be free, un-caged,
and that's the respect derivative...
but being lied to is out of the question...
lying should be in the old testament decalogue -
more important than ****... that's why the power
resides with prostitutes for man's encompassing
some sort of sanity... there are no lies...
there's just obvious promiscuity... those little
Christian boys can gag in their confession booths in
Churches... when you stop lying and feel no guilt
and no need for being redeemed from sins (extended into
crimes, denotative as merely lies) becomes obsolete,
even in Brazilian slums... you see those little
gnomes feeding trivial experiences of threesomes
and ****** the exotica that is simply a bunch of lies;
their exotica is bound to a family meal...
a shared meal... watch them lining up in their
cars at the McDonald drive-through...
or eating alone to a solitary confession...
once you spot them, you're like: what the **** are priests for?
i've just spotted a confession! they're sitting
slouched in some cheesy fast-food conveyor belt
trying to re-enact their tales of the Amazonian rain-forest
escapades for that much more of "exotica".

Those who Know not fear to see the edges,
and cushion themselves for convenience.
They cannot conceive of the use of a blade,
and interpret the knife for malfeasance.

And ignorance blinds, but never reminds them
that wisdom is not without season.

Those who Will not see the edge they must walk,
and shirk of the path they observe;
they lapse into apathy, wasting the spark
that ignites the gunpowder of verve.

And ignoring the drive that igniteth their lives
is a sign that they don't have the nerve.

Those who Dare not see the edges on everything,
and shrink back for fear of the cutting.
And they, ****** by Nin to their cowardice, fleeting
little safeties, abstain from their budding.

But woe is their hallmark, and after the impulse
their tears are the heart of the flooding.

Those who are Silent are edgy and riveting,
obstinate enigmas unyielding.
Their empty responses negate any prompting,
impenetrable in their shielding.

*And Death, their reward at the end of the sword
is the triumph they earn without kneeling.

Riding fast through summers warm night
with heart as black as his attire
desperate to get back to safeties reach
quench his thirst, fulfil his desire.

His labour has been a profitable one
for not one but three tonight
and the ***** that he carries
will set him something right.

Whilst kicking he's heels into his steed
whispers faster boy he begs and pleads
hoofs on dry ground echo and resound
through the trees and all around.

This Highwayman homeward bound.


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Crawling through the undergrowth
looking for a moist retreat
for safeties haven in rotten logs
away from keen eyes and birds beaks

Lumbering slowly
as metamorphosis is soon
to become a beetle
that is guided by the moon

To find a mate is it's first duty
in the short time of it's life made complete
to make plenty their kind
these wriggling grubs beneath your feet


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Flabbergasted at my findings
Drooling slightly over luck
Hard to explain how my life has changed
Now the proud owner of a Whatchamacallit

It came with all the accessories
All the whistles plus the bells
Lucky I grabbed it when I did
You know how fast those things fly off the shelf

Double wrapped in heavy plastic
Sealed up tight for safeties sake
To keep from the hands of those not in the know
Plus less chance of escape

Though Whatchamacallit's aren't dangerous
They are mischievous all the same
Far be it for me to set mine free
And be the one to blame

So I keep it on a leash
Everytime that I go out
Even put it in my pocket
If I'm roaming a big crowd

But believe you me if it's me you see
Out someday on the street
I have my Whatchamacallit
Somewhere close to me

He started down the corridor
Daylight, so he could see
Was he a crazed lunatic
Living out his dream?

Where could they go when shots were fired
Had a life to live, now has gone expired
This whole scene has gotten old and tired
Heroes at the scene
I am kept reminded

A vigil for the people,
Lives ended way too soon
Hiding under furniture
That’s set about the room
Waiting, and frightened
The children in the school
Hunkered down in terror
while a killers’ on the loose

Violence, defiance
Held by safeties grasp
Set off the alarms
To a somber aftermath

Seventeen dead,
Seventeen lives
Taken away
Bullets did fly

The crime of all crimes
Waged war on our youth
Not a single turned head
Shielding by the truth

Must we wait and see
Will it ever end
Guns on every street
Guns in every hand

Laws are not set in stone
Changes must be made
A backpack and an apple
Are no match for hand grenades.

Crawling through the undergrowth
looking for a moist retreat
for safeties haven in rotten logs
away from keen eyes and birds beaks

Lumbering slowly
as metamorphosis is soon
to become a beetle
that is guided by the moon

To find a mate is it's first duty
in the short time of it's life made complete
to make plenty their kind
these wriggling grubs beneath your feet


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

The rain falls
Washing away illusions
Old "truths" shown to be flawed
Old "safeties" hiding a threat
Gone, the  hidden threats of yesterday

The rain falls
Watering the foundations
For a new truth blooms
And new safeties shown
With the false securities gone

The sun shines
Burning away the lies
For they grow brittle
When shone under light of truth
Shattering at the slightest touch

The sun shines
Feeding the truth
The tulip-blossoms grow
More real as more time passes
Whilst under the revealing sun

A helicopter seed
Seemingly lifeless
Falls to the ground
Just to lie there
Abandoned without its twin

A helicopter seed
So full of life
Falls to the fertile soil
Waiting for the rain
To grow a maple strong

The old world
Shown to be flawed
Calcifies  and shatters
Dissolves and washes away
Until only the true remains

The new world
A world progressing
Sends roots into the remains
Seeking out that dissolved truth
Letting a new world flourish

Without realising,
You became the most at home I'd ever been.
A shelter of warmth,
Locked up safeties and tucked-in frailties
Lie in wait for the weather outside.

The world paints an impossible portrait of love;
You are to reach into their life, convince them that
their heart is yours, show them your strength by holding it
aloft, treating it gently, but here we are made
of only flesh and blood, which may as well be mud,
And this we cannot maintain, the sweat and blood flow
And erosion of our minds eats away our strength,
The strain makes us squeeze, and the tears that roll down our face
are poison to that heart aloft, so heavy borne
And before we know it, we are floating, adrift,
Arm half-cocked trying to predict the tide, floating
In filth, a poison we’ve made, lies and hope and fear,
Sitting on a powder keg, match lit and flicking
We know, if we let go the pieces fall too far,
And the toxic pool will claim this precious thing, that
We always knew was ill deserved in the first place,
And our own poisoned fallen heart remembers well,
Someone once held it aloft and failed to protect,
But our strength wavers before we know what to do,
So darkness and retreat are the only safeties,
From this shameful wrath at fuses end and tides call.
But all is not lost, perhaps there is something more,
A way to dispel this fear and greed with courage,
With an honest answer to this truth confusing,
With love we can hold our own hearts to the heavens
Whenever we trust there is another out there,
Others with mud stacked high, scented with fading lies,
Still willing to put something deep inside them first,
And share it aloud, if only with just the one.

You got to have it you do you gotta
have it the unheard voices say so loud
we are what we eat garbage in garbage
out mind food everywhere drip drip drop
wearing away rock filling up oceans
high as a mountain deep as the sea we
are shaped and be a shape drip drip drop
unique and infinite snowflakes do not
even deserve to carry our baggage
humbly you sense it you consume it
and are a new being one molecule
at a time we go somewhere lead follow
or get shoved out of the way the world is
our private playground killing field heaven
we dream we control for safeties sake we
group bodies and souls together and live
and think and breathe synchronized tighter
than fish turn now into fortunate
circumstances with skilful means learned at the
knee of god awareness none other than
that which moves us sentient beings are
what i don't know how to exclude grass and
rocks from mind light pool wavy source of all
gravity wells included

Folks The Way Things Are Going...
It’s Kinda... MIND BLOWING... !!!

How People Are Coping...
With Businesses Closing...
And Pressures Now Growing...

Due To Lockdowns In Motion...
And Injection Potions...
Now Giving Out Notions...
of SLOWING Corona...
POWERS And Controllers...
Now Throwing BIG Boulders...
For People To Shoulder... !!!!!!!

So Now Folks Are COLDER...
Than Girls Who Are Loners... !!!

Or Fellas Whose Focus...
Is Using What’s POTENT...
Like Sharks In DARK Waters... !!!

Lambs To The SLAUGHTER...
With Reinforced Borders...
As People Get POORER... !!!

Nights Out Now OUTLAWED....
For... Internet Wars... ?!?
And Addictions To ****... !!!

Tempers Now Short...
As Mentalities TAUT...
Due To Lockdowns Enforced...
For Our Safeties Of Course...

Well I’m NOT Really SURE... !?!

No Star Wars Or Force...
For People To Maul...

Just Internal Brawls...
Because Minds States Are Caught...
In A Place That’s Unsure... ?!?

It’s MIND BLOWING Y’all... !?!
To See Freedoms Downfall...

Streets Ain’t Cracking No More...
Like They Were Once Before... !!!!

Freedom of Thought...
Is NOT Taught Anymore... !!!

The Signs Are Not Bright...
And Filled With Sunshine... ?!?

So Who Can Now Say...
That They’re Really OKAY...
With Their Lifestyles Today... ?!?

And That What They’re Now Paid...
Takes Their Troubles Away...
And That They’re Feeling GREAT... !?!

Well... TRUST When I Say...
That MANY Would CLAIM...
That They Are Finding Ways...
To Still Get Through The Days....

So I’m Thinking Some May...
Read This Type of Wordplay...
And Then Choose To Say.....

That … “I am a dude...
whose views have dark hues,
about future moves,
that will blow people’s cool !”

And......

“My mind exudes clues,
of what’s fake and what’s true,
and reflects on the news,
without studio rooms,
edits, or previews !”

Now That’s Simply Because...
I DO NOT Ignore Plots...
Made By Government Bods...
That Seem Destined To Make...
Peoples Minds BLOW AWAY... !!!

So What I Write About...
Are The Things That Resound...
Within World Visions Now...
And That’s WITHOUT DOUBT... !!!

Corona Is Known...
From East To West Coast...
To The Entire Globe... !!!

But Back To This Flow...
of Wordplay That Shows...
Why People Might Say...
That My Wordplay’s INSANE... !?!

Cos’ It’s MIND BLOWING How...
My Rhymes Dish Out KNOCKOUTS... !!!

To... FAST Talking Mouths...
Whose Futures Wore Crowns...
And Had Dollars And Pounds...
That Made Them Feel PROUD...

BEFORE This Disease...
Started … FREEZING Money... !!!

Via Technical Dreams...
That Have Now Become REAL...
And Bred... Societies...
Now Ready To Be...
Those That Can Run CASH FREE... !!!

And Of Course These Vaccines...
That In Truth May NOT Be...
What Will Keep Us Healthy... ?!?

I’m Not Sure How Some Feel...
That What We’re Now Seeing’s...
A Good Place For Our Being... ?!?

But For Now I’m Still Quoting...
REAL Thoughts Through My Poems...

That I Think Y’all Be Knowing...

Are TRULY......

..... “ Mind Blowing “..... !!!

Escaping trachea
death rattle on my tongue
leaves a taste of vacancy;
can barely breathe,
these black lungs wheeze,
never sleep heavenly.
Born nakedly,
basic needs
became an aching grief;
never what it seems
no sanctions nor safeties,
all i achieve
is empty pleas.

Is it heresy
if a nightmare's just
how demons dream?
Hellaciously
faces scream
awakened by the smell of kerosene;
even atheist abomination,
disgraced and faithless,
keeps belief in satan
in this place of fiends.

Siting in a car driven by something else
It wants to drive crazy
Go close to the edge
Zig zag
May even flip
Swerve around til it's you it grips
After a while you get car sick
Decide you've had enough of being driven by the shifting gear stick
So you get in the drivers seat drive to the best of your ability
Keep with the safeties
Stay on the road
Learn to lighten insides heavy load
The longer you drive
the further
you go.........

Flabbergasted at my findings
Drooling slightly over luck
Hard to explain how my life has changed
Now the proud owner of a Whatchamacallit

It came with all the accessories
All the whistles plus the bells
Lucky I grabbed it when I did
You know how fast those things fly off the shelf

Double wrapped in heavy plastic
Sealed up tight for safeties sake
To keep from the hands of those not in the know
Plus less chance of escape

Though Whatchamacallit's aren't dangerous
They are mischievous all the same
Far be it for me to set mine free
And be the one to blame

So I keep it on a leash
Everytime that I go out
Even put it in my pocket
If I'm roaming a big crowd

But believe you me if it's me you see
Out someday on the street
I have my Whatchamacallit
Somewhere close to me