"Indian shizzle", he said.
"**** shizzle", she replied.
"Does it make a difference?", he asked her.
Then he stopped to think,
"Are we really all the same?"
"Murica", said a small voice in his head.

finding gravity on a bicycle...

surely... given that most people
don't write a ******* hemmingway...
and there's no william buckley jr.
doing the interview...
and there's no norman mailer...

and that: no one really bothers
with kierkegaard and that:
kant "famously" didn't marry starry crap...
why didn't i have kids
and start a family?
uh... dunno... mother's best lie...
or the best lie a neighbour brings
with her... whenever you're
being a 2nd witness without
the 1st witness being there...

and she says an "also" with regards
to her son having the same luck
with women...
when the comparison comes:
a koala bear versus a gorilla...
bonsai tiger!
like a koala is a ******* bear
to begin with...
cuddly soft-pouch toy-ah-thing!

but there's that great feat!
finding gravity on a bicycle...
my mother helped me with that...
and that famous fail of
a rotondo... well... more or less
a cricket ground egg shaped, oval...
or a rugby ball...
the shoulder on the salto bike
hard... rammed into a car....

as a child you were supposedly well
loved...
and this is modern poo'etry i hear about?
here's to: john sounding like johny...
will sounding like *****...
richard sounding like: **** and not richy...
it's cute... matthew... matti: finnish...
leonard is: leo oh leo...
why art we all not named: Li Lo Po!

of course everyone managed to spot
the tetragrammaton vowel catchers that's
hey'zeus! no... not the bloke strapped
to the mannequin of tailoring...
oh no... not the crucifix pendulum
"for us all"... by blood... by cross...
who is to exfoliate on the crucifix...
better than some well scouted for materials
on a mannequin canvas for tailoring
a suit?
the guilt?! oh the guilt!
well... thank god this metaphysician would
never address the material realm of
enjoying a... dabble with... wool...
when donning a suit...
or leather shoes... or any presence of suede...
beside the crucifix mannequin: replica
and pittance!

- but finding gravity on a bicycle is one thing...
finding gravity when swimming is another...
it's called gravity...
but some heretical circles call it:
balance...
after all... it is both gravity...
and balance... given that while riding
a bike... or swimming...
you're pretty much sure, assured:
to not be falling...

you can find gravity with newtonian hindsight...
of sure...
that's there... it involves the magicians orbs...
copernican mathematics and...
target practice when it comes to
propaganda spew...
and Steward... the lesser... Stew...
cousin of the house of Stuart...
not Steward... Stuart...
which is (again)...
a McKiteit and MacCoddlewit...
some Glaswegian *****-donor clinic
"miss-up" mix-it: tend to...
lounging busy... which is of course...
besides the "look"...

5 bazookas cleared for a salvo!
hip hip! burger-pound!
hip hip! boom shizzle shoom!
hip hip! hooray!
oh now we'z getz uz best
partay birth doy wishy-washy
"protagonists"!

but given the current Persian affair...
i couldn't help to notice...
love actually... the narrative...
the u.s.a. and england...
the Z-spezial re-la-tion-ship...

so... who's spastic... and who's fantastic?!
spaz: B-bristolian-esque joking...
never aside...
who's the spaz and who's the frizzy-fuss?!

spe-zial mother russia talks down
to dog Kiev: yes, it's in (the) Ukraine...
spezial iz not what iz?

h'america... kept a yorkshire terrier...
media leetches of england
firmly in its grasp...
cuz onez we woz: once -
the militia contra the crown...
of north virginia...

coz b'rah: a 79-year-old man
who lit himself on fire protesting
against russia's language policies
in the capital of the volga region
of udmurtia has died;
name? alberto raisin...
which sounds terrible in its
non-native spanish...

but there's something worth of gravity
without debating
the heliocentric model...
finding one's balance on a bicycle...
a posteriori events...
but... the same balance can be
translated into a swimming session...

my god my father tried to teach me...
if i was supposed to learn
to swim in the sea...
with the fear: of not seeing the depth?
isn't that like a thesaurus
congestion of: acrophobia?
isn't there a word in the borrowed
lexicon of the ancient greeks...
concerning... fearing to swim in a body
of water... where you can't see the bottom?
i could learn to swim in a swimming
pool... thankfuly all because and due to...
moi...

i also found gravity in water...
i could... lie in water and become...
the antithesis of: the body consists
of 90% of water...
yes sherlock watson & sons... ltd...
but in water i'm mostly fat...
if i find the right balance...
i float...
which is why swimming is a bit
like riding a bicycle...
you find: the center...
or gravity...

again... in this special "relationship"
of bruv-love...
between h'america and whittle brit-pop interlude...
oasis on the continent...
my my... blur, even...
breakfast at tiffany's back in the dough-dough-us...
who is the ******* SPASTIC?
in this "SPEZIAL" relationship?
i guess the english must be the SPEZIALS...

a bit like watching:
go-go-gonzales trip up on a spelling mistake...
which is all i care for...
like a comedia...
a deviation from the informal, later,
subject of language implementation...
and all this peacocking prior...

where else does gravity allow itself...
a presence of the multi-vector?
up and down... left and right...
it's not as easily explained as:
on a ledge... with an apple...
drop it... newton with a header!
a 1-all equalizer in stoppage time
an F.A. cup re-match!

gravity on a bicycle...
it's hardly a drop affair...
gravity in water...
it's hardly merely swimming...
there's that aspect of finding... buoyancy...
there's not need for you to swim...
to exhert so much effort...
that you might as well drown 10 meters
in after swimming the 'undred...

no buoyancy: no chinese fortune cookies...
i still don't know which is more grand...
beside the acrobatics of... olympic level
acrobatics...

it's not bound to youth via lifting weights...
or supreme mao tse tung's winter olympics
of: hunger strikes in Vinter...
the gravity bound to a bicycle...
or the gravity bound to swimming...
after all... the latter is a bit "funny"...

"levitation" and buoyancy...
the dracula soundtrack:
only because of gary oldman and the composer
wojciech kilar... and the given, current...
b.b.c. spin-off and how...
yes... it's that terrible...
i don't even know where those five-stars
came from!
the archetype of feminine romance novels?
the syphilitic lover? the "vampire"?

yes, no? two guesses as good as: nein - keiner...
and, quiet honestly...
nothing could make this exercise in:
not engaging in any of all the available
comments sections on any website...
any worse... than it already is...

it comes as no surprise that: i write this poo'ems
not because i don't write poetry...
but because i will neither write
a poem by standards reserved for
pedagogy or demagogy...
or write identifiable puzzle-bog-trots of...
language reserved for politicization:
and not for... counter-marxist...
"psychiatric" post-...
hardly modern or... "today's journalism"...
eh... pushing it toward a Beckett-clause...
concerning language that is not expected...
oh but i certainly do know
a difference between formal language
and... this... the informal language...
the cognitive extension that does not
require a "free speech" protection bias...

none of this was spoken...
it was seen...
weaved into "thinking"...
that's the difference... isn't it?
from my end of the tenniscourt "promenade"
i've heard nothing but clickick...
off this dead-end replica piano
of a qwer
asdf
zxcvbnm

unless my shadow spoke... or there was some
telepathic connection
with the schizoid "group-think" of me
sourcing my sometime odd...
cognitive-murmors of "thought"...
"hallucinations"...
so be it...

this defence of a freedom of speech...
how does that even extend into writing?
i will never know...
and to be honest? i don't want to know...
writing is an extension of thinking...
which is also an inversion of speaking...
but it's never speaking...
where's the audio on this piece?!

how about... plucking your eyes out,
after fating yourself with the
original curiosity to begin with?
sounds better: than... what still persists as...
not being, said!

this was written, it wasn't said...
this is not a transcript...
this is not a transcript...
if this is censored...
then my... "schizophrenia" is not even
my original thesis of: bogus
mono-lingual parody of bilingualism...
no need to cite **** sapiens
jurisprudence advocates...
lawyers... the thesaurus bargain barons etc.
this is... what's those words they use?
invasion of the tabernacle?
do my "auditory hallucinations" stem from...
these words...
a private investement in internet access...
again: nothing is being said!
because this is a "public arena"...
a "forum"...
and the eyes on the other side of this text...
are c.c.t.v. eyes?!
not private eyes?

what's the point of freedom of speech?
when the freedom to think:
and subsequently write... is bombarded
by being who: see via reading braille...
and read... comments likes dislikes and all
those other ratios?

writing is an extension of a freedom
to think... most people who speak freely
don't speak via a precursor script...
that's not free speech: that's scripted speech!
and just because it happens be placed
in a public "forum"...
that's the argument that this writing
is a freedom of "speech"?!
really?! i guess your average u.s. citizen
is more despotic than the *******
president... then...

again.. blah blah blah blah blah...
blah blah.... blah blah blah blah blah...
blah... blah blah... blah blah blah blah blah blah...

you'd sooner convince a parrot to sing
you a song in sparrow than call this "debate"...
evenly focused on one or neither side "winning".

Lights off, ma bad-*** homies are juz drank,
buh then I saw ya dancing in da club.
Ma head was blown, let's kick it!
Cuz ya could be ma tight moll,
o' let's juz put a bullet
on the clock in these tight walls.

If I'm wit ya,
ma heart could fly so high like a G6,
Imma be glad if ya be mine
tho I ain't da niftiest sheik.
And if loving ya could take ma life
to da street, cuz of a set trippin,
then ya could be a flower
on ma Chicago Overcoat on ma big sleep.

Miss me wit dat! Ma bad,
buh I ain't gonna take ma words back,
I ain't no good, buh Imma gangsta poet
juz a poet wit rhyming words as AK,
so Imma put sum shizzle down
and write what it means.

To me love is gangsta, family is gangsta,
loyal is gangsta, if that's not gangsta,
I don't wanna be gangsta.

O' ma sheba, wazzup!
Let's show 'em what is real luv.
Then luv me less, until ya luv me more
and let's live as gangsta poets
in this gangsta world.

they allowed you your civil war... allow them theirs! about 99% of you are not syrian civilians, and i couldn’t give a half baked cookie’s *** worth of having opinions about that conflict over wine at 5pm... but hey! newspapers sell with opinions about a civilian conflict over there and queries in the dilemma sections of our society: black or white ipod i6scheißex3?!*

atheism and capitalism will never work,
i know that atheism these days is cool,
but it’s signifying a singularity, and individuation process
which only ennobles individuals with their own
theology,
atheism only works in a collectivisation, a communism,
an ant colony, then every individual can exclude their own
theology, their own subjectivity, and become wholly objective...
how did atheism become so popular?
it flourished in a greenhouse effect, in required many
individuals not really caring for a categorisation as human,
which devolved evolution to a edenic stagnation
rather than provide the true basis of evolution - we, as one, did thus.
perhaps the problem is that we didn’t do things on repeat,
and this had to be penetrated by napoleons and kants,
men of individual significant will of exclusive atheism and inclusive humanism,
but the way it’s going, capitalism and atheism only work
in sketch comedy parodies, with the argument against its non-existence
being the most debased interpretation: parasites and insects,
never truer to rom coms or smoothies’ tastes of sultans and pistachios,
it’s always grime **** grime **** grime ****.
how can capitalism incorporate atheism with the endemic selfishness
when atheism is all about selfishness and exclusive collectivisation
of man against ant, lion... owl?
it’s the ordeal of origins having to accept other species as interactant
with me without having to collectively individuate myself with
mr. simon smith happily converting his garage with a loft extension...
atheism in capitalism is fake... what capitalists sermoning atheism
truly fear than the existence of god... is the sort of “non-existence”
of god of the slavic states post world war ii without the marshall plan,
working together... ***** take one step into syria with burger king...
***** take one step with that **** into syria... i swear i’ll rip you to shards
worth an artistic impression of shrapnel intestines and flesh on the cement!
remember how christina invaded england to **** cromwell and ensure peace?
well elizabeth is too old to **** al-assad, and christina never invaded a country in civil war...
who invaded? journalists... on paper... in english newspapers... high & mighty & touchy tough guys asking for “ink” from the innocents.

i should be handling a champagne flute by now,
i don't know, maybe it's the laughter
that's curbing me from doing so... oh the fizzling
of my shizzle: or whatever's the trend in Campton.

now i'm watching videos on the pros and cons
and i'm thinking: it's really out of my hands -
i can do what Pontius Pilate did, back when
everything political required things to be hygiene prone
- and when there were literate fishermen who
miraculously broke from physical toils
       and wrote anti-Pharisee booklets.
forget Socrates defiling the youth:
it's me and a few old men -
will i become martyred because of it,
am i deluded with an invasion of
Shoreditch coolio across the depth and breadth
of London: who cares?!
       i like a good film, and this one is
always going to be good -
it only takes one word (well, two): the queen;
mainly the logic stuck true to the end
result: it would have been too good to be true...
take that logic and make it into a motto -
        wholeheartedly honestly,
      i have not an inch of my own wet *****
dipped into your ear: that's what
being independent means -
it also means that Copernicus ruined
   all things nautical, sunrise, sunset,
                  and thank **** the earth is
3D, now the problem, what shape is the universe?
   as it goes we're in a fudge swamp -
we aren't going anywhere, we think we are,
but people forgot to twin thought and doubt together,
   instead we have thinking and denial twinned,
which means: no matter how many facts are
spewed and later picked up as golden nuggets
we're not going anywhere.
       that's the beauty of a niche armchair,
      you get to bypass the comforts of crowd and airing concerns -
i'd never miss those emotional reactions
of people slyly: for the world!
    i love how they think that spying is masquerading
and not stating the obvious: which it usually is,
spying is stating that: the opposite has a tradition
built upon using sharpened knives:
                    me and my blunt knives:
i'm tearing into the meat like a vulcher -
what the hell can you do?
   sell the truth for 30 quid, buy it back for 20.
  that's a Homeric certainty -
    no, not the jokey Springfield variety:
the serious Grecian 2000 year old (if not more)
one - and i already asked:
what are you here for?
  me? i'm into writing a 2000 year old chapter
ranging from monkey, neanderthal and man -
     given the obvious disparities
and image issues and ****** favours considering
the pale anorexic Parisian modelling skeletors.
     you know what i found distinct in that story:
Slavs among the Germanic tribalism?
i concentrated on the eyes, rather than admit
a less pronounced *occipital bone: yeah,
that's almost a tail in evolutionary sprechen.
       all thanks to a girl in school who noted
that "defect".
     i just looked at the eyes and found they were
more ****, and subsequently quasi-Mongolian
and less Germanic fish-eyed fixative of ogling
out as if about to be gouged out, or simply
popping out with a reference to helium.
    once again: a stick has two ends.
         it's the historiological (why the iota in that
i'll never know) demand:
the pendulum simply said: too good to be true -
and it was:
  i'll go one better, better than black and female?
how about native?
   now that would be a game-changer -
      anything less than a native american is
as about as revolutionary or a status quo disciple
or a hamburger for breakfast:
hence the reason why sarcasm and apathy mingle
        and look down at the doormat:
  oh right, only wiping my shoes does it? hell,
i'll wipe my shoes: come in and take a ****.
     thus the misrepresentation of writing on
pixel-paper (or what's called:
       drunk, but still in want of having a chance to
revise, because we're all sloppy when
      staging what the original transgression was);
   i never write with a want to say the things i write,
i just think the misrepresentation comes
when i treat the internet as a punching-bag to think
things through: a voyeuristic-reversal,
        as such a great medium to think things out:
the new ****.
   nonetheless, it's hard not to laugh within
the framework of defending the freedom to sprechen
and leave the defence of the freedom to denken
  within a socialism that never manufactures
    anything: apart from protest marches -
the F. Gumps amid broken vocal chords.
                  you get suspicious about deaf people
hearing more than those able...
                                 to hear a crackpot mantra
and subsequently diffuse it.
                     i wish we lived in world summarised
by the words: all eyes on Mongolia...
            but that's what happens when you popularise
**** and industrialise it:
    a. China and India beat you in terms of industrialising
             it (over a billion buggers by my count, each!)
and b. it's a litmus test of youngsters in the future
              suffering from depression -
now that's really obscure - i don't really have a b.
     point to make... pornographic industrialisation
got me...            come to think of it:
if america didn't industrialise *** i'd be in a transgender
clinic trying to figure out whether i had
    any ego in my phallus - completely bewildered
whether i should accept my ******* as if a dog
accepting its canine extension...
        given women these days
and the fact that i had to pay for the pleasure tells me
a lot...
            i either pay for it and play the genteel role
or i go mad from ****** frustration and ****:
at least we're talking a contract,
like that bubbly Puerto Rican woman in Amsterdam:
                                         **** it... Freud!
so we solved the whole "earth is not flat" debate,
           even though we still require the n.e.w.s.
to go about our daily business... tragic: we now have
to encapsulate the universe as having a shape -
  milestones have been conquered,
  from a 2D earth into a 3D earth
      we now have an infinitely 1D universe -
                because it couldn't have been: a box
within a box, within a box: without an actual box,
or as the people said: hence we having the sport of boxing /
dentistry.
            the Russians put a man and a dog into
space: fair enough...
      we go a step further and end all fairytales
  and turn our children into ambitious astronauts
breakdancing on the moon -
                              then comes Mars...
if we're going with that sort of escapist route then we're done:
   these traditional capitalistic endeavours for
mere competition have turned into a variation of
simple escapism - as i was taught in a catholic school -
imagine yourself in a world, then leaving it -
always imagining the earth from afar, from the moon, say;
all that really was said was the Taoist motto
about not engaging with the world on terms of
rounding up, rabble talking and ******* whatever needed
******* (pervert, i know the slang in the engagement
     of the cultish excesses of skin; rough ***?).
   but that's what it is: escapism -
                         as they said: a message from former
communist countries -
                           a sprouting vogue in western
           societies: with their beards, and chequered shirts,
social conforming hippies know as hipsters:
i don a beard because it's cold around here:
plus i look less of a fat person -
alcohol fat ain't cutie pie fat: it's called being bloated.
       only among an obese population would you
get anorexia - again: historiological logic (the pendulum,
or the Newtonian impression) -
         once Newton was told he was less than accurate
people decided everything was relative:
the Greeks abhorred moral relativism -
   it's not that god died - cause & effect died
in what's modern, and reliably crescendo.          
sure, humanity will go on in any other argumentative suite,
      it's the one thing humanity can't be, i.e.: undermined.
*** is (after all), an existential variant of ******* -
you'd be daft to think that it was or could / would be
  otherwise.

I love this number tis
thirtizzle
I am lucky
I am shame
I don't need a number blame.
Love the number thirteen
One + One = 3
You + Me = Baby
Thirtizzle
Snoop Dogg you r the Shizzle
Baruch Hashem

in a void of air and space
music floats and keeps us safe
you need to listen

fo real and fo shizzle: listen
it's 3:45 everybody bossed up
dough fetish fantasies

the suzuki in a jakuzzi
keeps my mind busy
(keeps my mind busy)

how can you enter the next stage?
it's fo real like tizzops cage
the barrel of a golden gauge

look into my face: a rat race
never ending being fast paced
today is my last day but i will

remain

TS Eliot said, “Paris is a strong stimulant.”
It is - but it has nothing on Manhattan.
If Paris is a Café Crème espresso at a café-en-terrasse under the stars.
Manhattan is a ‘Black Tie Bawls’ cocktail at The Crown bar (the skyline!).

We were going to relax - in Manhattan,
instead, keep those seat belts fastened.
Lisa said, one night, “Want to go out for a bit?”
Since then, I’ll admit, our nights have been lit. 

We have ten days, and we’ve decided to try every Michelin-starred restaurant we can (there are 68 in NYC). So far, we’ve been to Eleven Madison Park, Le Bernardin and Per Se. This was Lisa’s idea.

The food is delicious - if you like a corn-flake with something on it or a steak the size of a bouillon cube ($250 per person with cocktails and dessert). As we left ‘Per Se’ I asked, “Can we get something to eat now? I’m starved.” I was only ½ kidding.

It’s MY idea to visit every beautix rooftop bar in Manhattan (there are exactly10). So far, we’ve been to, ‘The Peninsula,’ ‘230-Fith’’ and ‘NoMad’ - we’ve only been at these tasks for three nights.

We’re doing other things too. We’re going to Broadway shows (& Juliet, the Great Gatsby, Oh Mary!, Wicked) and to see Idina Menzel (Wicked, Frozen) in concert and a John Oliver and Seth Meyers comedy show next Monday. We do these, as in - Dinner, show, rooftop bar.
OH, and we’re dancin’ like we’re sentient - no cap.

Our sordid troup, is Lisa and Dave (her boo), Charles & Ms Charles, Lisa’s folks (Karen and Michael) and Lisa’s little sister Leeza and Meeeee. Luckily, we have one of my Grandmère’s conglomerate, executive secretarial minions (François) booking reservations for us. He’s got ‘contacts.’

Yeah, we’re drivin’ full speed towards summer’s end - “fo-shizzle” (to quote Snoop Dogg). We figure we can rest, a few days, in New Haven.
Wasn’t Snoop fire at the Olympics?
.
.
dance club songs, for this one:
One Kiss by Calvin Harris & Dua Lipa
Lipstick by Kungs
Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter [E]
Levitating by Dua Lipa
.
.
slang…
café-en-terrasse = terrace cafe
Black Tie Bawls = (cocktail) Blavod black *****, lemon, and Bawls energy drink.
beautix = top drawer, rizz
No cap = no lie
fo-shizzle = for sure
fire = great, a standout
[E] = explicit

the grapes are still hanging -
i should be making my own wine right now,
but i'm not: because: i'm simply... not...
i'm sitting drinking some wine
from several years ago:
smoking my due...
looking at an eucalyptus tree
begging for a voice / movement
with a jolsting wind...
obviously "nothing"...
so i guess i'll leave these grapes just
hanging... the leaves are "gone"
dropped off... or simply migrated
for the summer with the storks...
but at least the grapes are not
simply falling...
the blackbirds are alright in keeping
up to my desires: not mine...
but what extends when you have
some grapes and you're not going
to eat them: or make wine with them...
but at least the birds are having
a fill...
blackbirds? well...
shpaki... magpies, crows... etc.
i was going to make some wine...
now i'm not going to make "some" wine...

joke: ante "contra" ad...
which implies hannibal...
    portas: and there are seven tiers
of hell...
hannibal /before/ the gates
    hannibal /at the/ gates...
no definite articles weaving with english
back into latin...

suppose who owns what:
except i ail with a voice that's also...
an illiterate X on the ballot...
but i don't grate voting...
looks like when people disagree with
me they just decide to:
pretend... it's mutually exclusive:
i don't exist they don't exist...
but the flimsy comic book is
uber-real...

democracy: amassing a sulk fest
already mattering on the verge(s)
what's already:
whether capitalism or communism:
it's bureucracy one way or
the other: the status quo of tongues
a money is grieviously
intact...

ancient lore of steel from
either die krupps or some other:
******* deserter fest:
bullet for a grain of sand...
here's to my... ivory tower:
although i don't play golf...
golf is hardly a ******* ottoman
couch - however well positioned...
i walk to ease
a claustrophobia of thought...
when i walk i require
the desirable shoe-fit...
who the **** needs
a pogo stick a ball and a concept
of a hole to settle scores...

why wouldn't these stubble brows
incoceive themselves
over a round of *******
ping-pong...

Kendal Roy... from HBO's succession...
when he buys a packet of
american spirit... steal a packet of
duracel batteries just to:
"drop" them off into a bin...
to steal in order to disregard...
all these modern names...
peaches geldoff...
why not a name like:
bob is already too.... too...
delivered at too frequently used...
rob roy son's of *******...
skurvysyny:

      pina colada...
       hic et hoc... here and "for this"...
little ol' england...
always terrible concerning
internet connectivity come a certain
hour, of, "need"...
pockets of isolation
i have a cat in my bed
attempting to claim miracles
with a coushion...
                but this cat is probably
best... since
there's nothing *******...
at best this... i can't make eases
for a chiral woah-man!
it's best to keep the cat
and never hollow myself over
an oyster's credo of ****...

and we're all luvvy-dubby will's the nuanced:
kneels... srgt. pepper and the first thrists
of charles dickens... blah blah...
queen lizzy is the shizzle and
bad drizzle... and thank you:
the show's over...

as ever a... "question"...
         a ****** under the premise
of the soviets... cul de sac of iron...
how the sstallite states
upon a gorbachev implosion:
safely done..
               who's feeding who?!
from under the curtail...
for spear in hand...
toward the h'american promise!
promise me lithuania or mongolia:
keep me... having already kept me:
it's not all cosmopolitan new yorker:
because it's not like it could
be translated via england,
the murk... the bogus... wolverhampton...
per se... e.g.,

mrs and mr quiff-bear...
high pride and the cheese tipping point
of: "blonde on blonde"...
leverage for the slaughter brigade!
thank **** i haven't
invested in beyond: the ***** towing
tissue ******* as paramount
for the worth of genocide... yes:
that's nice, nice gilded Assads...
thoroughly: from now...

invalidating response:
because... the roman poets heaved rhyme...
oh sure...
rhyme was a pop phase from
those... lost pressure being kept
a continued effort...
**** me even the ancient greek
tragedists didn't bother:
come the nuance or... chance
to rhyme... otherwise: what use
is rhyme and geometry and
prison... rhyme is a ******* square...
it's necessary pork chops
and... xeno-
   prefix alone...
         who brought in the Zee Zed: Zeno?
i ******* know what Xeno
scientology and william burroughs looks
like... a skeleton...

phonetic nuances and this tongue
of a ***** and nuanced kings / queens...
14 days of self-isolation
and i haven't yet exacted a meeting
with an authority that might support
such demands...
so lies tip-toying more lies...
yes... let's pretend that from
the excuses we met!
"but it's the 20th century"!
suddenly we met up with the 21st...

the billionaire president is playing golf...
what's that in terms of "sccore":
one more notch on the belt of... scoreland?
by the ***** or via the fiddling
with oysters?!
i never... truly... ******* know!
who's who in the game
of shoving hard-boiled eggs
up the opponents ***...
at least... no one cited
the need for either fist or elbow:
i'm poor... the prostitutes i ******
have either pychiatrist or priest status...
i play hide and seek with god...
not psychopaths...

why is it that paedophiles are target
practice while...
psychopaths are: fair... game... lauding...
who gives these nuances of
revision...
it's no to the paedophiles...
but a yes to the psychopaths...
so... i guess that's...
yes to the meteor and ol' dino!
hello monkey brain freeze!

i am allowing myself an interlude
via this... ha ha... makeshift...
populis vox:
voice of the people...
oh no... the trough... the roughage...
i believe than skins
is an unbelievable concept of
claiming reiteration...
because.. there's no milking it:
only ****... thise hard heaved
glue of the excess of...
let's pretend this evil is merely
a teen's godot of ****...
it's not evil: it's not ****...
it's just acne...
and that's all it will ever be...
hush hush: cowardrice for the sake
of: "someone's looking"!...
probably a neighbour...
              who... one will... never
relate to... beside the already presribed...
guillotine of *******...
how does one... guillotine... a ****
the worth of a centipede?
all pretend wriggly like
an **** of parasites?!
just asking: i wasn't avilabble for you
to imagine how...
maggots sold for adventures
in fishing tend to...
to: zenith with...

i drink some ***** i'm tasting plum:
it's still that cosmopolitan hangover...
it's beside giving me the blues...
the nostalgia surrounding the 1950s...
but there's a sylvia plath and i know:
someone was giggling with
being unhappy...

               otherwise it was...
the 20th century: the best kept excuse...
the hebrew party became split...
some that became the affront
of the grey ******* sniffing crowd...
and some who escaped prior
and established the harrow-woo...
"quirk" "thinkers" and
the congregation of christ...
which, they were... sorry not sorry...

this was supposed to be a conversation
without the demands of the...
afro-choccy-cult of: reiterting history...
oh i love the adverts though...
shame i can't buy into the *******
ideology!
you know what adverts are...
for a person who can't buy into them?!
******* reading material...
brainwaves:
theologians from tigh-land...
thailand...
           i can't buy ****!
if i can't buy the **** you're selling...
to the people who are buying it up
like a ******* gulp of thirst...
what's *****?!
i'm the same ******* toad-see
of voyeurism... baseless ****-****!

yes... here come the "incredibles"
of the half-wits... halving-of-knotting...
barrel bounty of laughs...
some swedish existential feast of a movie...

a society overtly saturated with ****
and irish prancing luck: four leaf clover?
this? this is all i...
oasis from a stone when suckling toward
a deadening end...
for the ink that's my mine...
and me walking off a beach
toward the ***** of the sea...
and she's still... gesticulating:
oh god what might be, will be...
she isn't going to hurry when her
"plantagenant lineage" is
being... ****-faced with no...
inheritor...

             come the grandchildren...
i'm already a quarter...
so... what's the d.n.a. atheist argument
about... keeping solace with
a variation of eternity?
me up from an eigth? "you" *******...
solace rhetoric retribution "quest":
conjunction interlude that forever
returns to... ping-pong of a *******?!

come on! let's either celebrate
the tonsure... the kippah...
the *******... or the deciphered via
islamic floral pattern of the ****!
i will gladly approach
the needs for the dodo project like
some beta-buck-delux...
i'm out... veto.. ditto... what's the other
"word" for opting out?
a latin maxim?

per caput...            pre: joggular...
towing bite, and chew...
and mandible jaw... and elbow...
and knee... and...
a variation of: i told you so...
it's not like i didn't know...
up in that acorn tree...
oh i knew:
i would have kneeled but i forgot
my knees...

that "they" stop apparently speaking...
when you ears are too eager to quest
for hearing...

i knew that i could't prescribe myself
what could have been allowed...
how much of faking it...
leaves me with habitually promising
a sentencing of reality...
without an -ism...

come to think of it...
co-conspirator... in a time of authentic grief?
and later: a time...
how such an ingregious act, most,
subjective... untested...
will come back and haunt...
oh but i have something else
to heave: to borrow...
but... will it become apparent...
how... unlikely!

     who isn't tired... "these days"...
oh god... the sun's a bbq...
the moon a blistering tan-line...
forgive me not clinging to mind
the blue and... soultry;
beheld last: i know i never do.

-
and baba moonschtrung also said the same, kenwah?

only once you visit
the eastern coast of kenya
do you realise...
   oh right...
they sent all the loud-mouth
west africans to america...
no wonder...
and you might rightly ask:
wonder?
   oh hell, loved the kenyans...
had a cognac and a coffee,
talked
about timber imports
from ghana...
     fell asleep in the open air
and had no somali pirate
bother me...
  punctured my hand on
a coral crown while diving into
the indian ocean,
had a kenyan doctor stitch me
up...
     you know what
east africans call west africans,
esp. those born
in america?
            *******...
     even the africans can tell
an african from a ******,
that's how bad the epidemic has
become:
ye, woah, ye, hide-e hide-e **-**...
ye-yo... limo *******...
boom boom, shizzle nuts
salami... ******* go waaaaaaaaaaay...
high... white boy got shroom
for a ****-yo...
      i know that east africans
abhor west african,
they call them -
     kakhuluizinkamba
oh look, he he...
      a german sounding
colony in africa, simply
based on the spelling "conundrum"
(it's called an act of ridicule
as to excuse a misnomer,
because third party says, so):
i think that means: loud mouth...
plus... never met a nigerian
girl i'd like to ****,
but one kenyan coal...
mmm hmm...
  smoked her grass
  like a serpent princess
         and god,
            that skin was a mirror
i allowed myself to fixate on
the moon... clearly i saw
something in the rhesus' OOH!
that much needing a photograph
startled expression...
    ***** ***** ***** WHA?
NIGER NIGERIA SAY WHA?
hmm... herrkichert: giggles...
             i love the fact that
africa is, a continent,
up is not down,
west is not east,
       lighter skinned peoples
are not respect,
get shipped off,
             speak some rap,
some settle for the palm
tree tropicana of the carribean...
                it's, ha! like this arab
fwend said to me:
     the love of: genital: contrasts...
it's far beyond colours...
its a certain fascination with
shapes...
      although opposite in terms
of universals of *** antonym...
well no, it's not like every
single white girl...
        not every single black girl...
but you're on your own,
sitting at a table playing
a steppenwolf game with
the audience, and three kenyan
beauties approach you for
a chat...
             locked in to having genitals,
and there's a chair,
thank you, very much...
     if only the somali pirates...
i'd be like: you really forgot
the cognac...
                i had it in a little glass
next to my head,
when i woke up, the cognac was...
dead? well, gone, richard gere style...
kinywa kwa sauti kubwa
             kwa sauti kubwa kinywa
it's not perfect,
because i'm not learning,
i just want to known
of the arabs, keeping
crocodile zoos to ensure
  a steady stream of leather shoes
in Mombasa tell you
to read it: left to right to left,
or to read it: right to left to right,
beyond what the druids wrote,
grammatically speaking...
the other bit?
        zoo                    lú!
  so do the african-americans even
know that an east african would
call a west african a ******?
extra G, prowess!
   i think he ment to say: loud mouth...
ha ha...
  i love how african-americans
are deluded about the delusion
of an africa: UNITED!
  black, what-what?!
              no, i haven't been to a lot
of places...
        but the places i've been to
i attempted the human face...
kenya imports timber from ghana...
learned that from the bartender
giving me extra short of cognac
trying to play poker with me...
    but ven e'gein, outside of
    Arkansas... there is no Arkansas!
i'd gloat, bloat,
if i only did have to hide
in one of those Nero flotilla shades...
when in africa? hide from
the sun... have a ******* hyper-active
form of siesta...
        otherwise you're reduced
to getting a suntan,
which makes you look as stupid
as eating tablespoons of
             powdered cinnamon;
simba m'ah schlimba...
                     sham'ah sham'ah
  sham'ah yay...
              harpoon,  
                    first mate:
       it 'em at day tatties...
                one ****** down,
two ******* down...
                third?
                   did a seal's worst
impression of a baboon
scratching its over-taxed
worth of **** (already) worth's
of hemorrhoids...
  ever see a baboon with
a third ****-cheek?
i.e. a hemorrhoid?
                      hence the clapping...
B. Moonglit of the jungle,
never, ever, really managed
to wipe his ***...
                 still...
                 i love how african-americans
think there's an "africa"...
             well... there's kenya...
but you know,
  you sample one good aspect
of the continent,
   there's no real point sampling
a lottery ticket
              of replica to "prove"
a "similar" point of experience.

System is bias
by keeping us divided
nothing good gets done

             Kelly McManus

I may have looked away in a moment of weakness
The bells and whistles in that app caught My eye
Never ever will I trade the love I have with You
For some shizzle on My nizzle on the fly

I can’t wait to get back home tonight
I can’t wait to get back home
I can’t wait to get back home tonight

Last Sunday after church in the part where everybody hugs
Prophet Kayla got real close to walking a thin fine line
There was a time when I would be the big dog
But now Your Luv fits like a glove and makes My heart shine

I can’t wait to get back home tonight
I can’t wait to get back home
I can’t wait to get back home tonight

imagine that the virus would
**** me fully and my verses
floated through algorithms
like real and fo shizzle

ain't no other take on this world
collapsing states the virus rages
should we all live inside of cages?
these are just words; just a poem

right? sure about your life?
everything is nothingness
people are packed with stress
who will read the last mass?

covid-19
people dying

She called tres excited,
have learned that the
word of the year was
rizz; excited for she’d
discovered something,
a word bond with me.

Did I know that word?
Did I employ it ever?
Did I agree that it meant
someone’s ability to flirt
by being charismatic?

My Reply:
4 shizzle, my Safety Queen,
you be fam, my boujee mummy,
this *****, a campy snack,
this BA, a main character,
you sending me slaps,

and mom,

my name is Brandy Channing, BA