Brown Brown brown
A majestic salute
Of this **** on bone
Into my mouth
Irreverent despise
This effigious moment
Of makes my surmise
Of this meat from this plate
Surety tu sate
It's Satan's will
In deep do I swill
Of all the kingdom's fawn
Fauna's adorn
Adorn ornate
From the midth of my plate
Into my bellies belie
Belittle my sweet tooth
From tooth suit sooth
The feel of my carnivorous desire
And it's encroach
To ****** from the animal kingdom
A bane or benign male
Or of femality
A skinned creature or scaled
Once skinned then scaled
To the nth of my teeth
From it's evolutionary course
To my 'mmms' whence eat
"I farm therefore I am"
My requite
My requiem
It's internment within my duodenum
If we as homosapien
We're a little lower
Of the evolutionary ladder
A little closer
To the whipchuk and adder
Perhaps this incongruity
Would seem of insurmount
That we would not take from the platter
Of that skitter skatter
Of paws and of hoof
Of feather and of scale
For it not our right
To interrupt the plight
Of species cultural agare
And of universal development
Of ******* disposition
And it's extant
Perhaps we'd be more likely
To drop a tear
Than a longe long of langue
A salivating spittle
Like the whistle and the sizzle
Of that press upon the plate
Of heated black iron
The steam and the vapour
Testament to the savour
To the saviour of the meal
As any connoisseur can tell you
Unless they alien to meat
The saviour of the meal
That muscular tender form
That reared from the twinkle
To the wink
The seed met it's drink
The phoetus
To the expressed
******* delight
This formling's fledgling plight
As it's eyes burn to new light
Of its heart and marrow and sinew
All fodder to our ensue
Of it's marriage to this world
Now married to our plate
Its existence to sate
Our sensory intuition
And if questioned
The lesser the tuition
Of salt and fat to the sate
Of blood and metal to the taste
Of bone and cartilage the waste
Unless hungry enough to chew
And **** it's marrow clean
And this meal
As if adieou
Of all memory
Of that beast's sense
Of this reality
And this brown brown brown
The king and capital of plate
And our position upon the evolutionary ladder
A little less seemingly madder
Of this culture of interrupting culture
For the satisfaction of our tongue
And of this insanity
Most seemingly insane
Shall affirm of our humane
As our cultural attest
To the other species detest
That the brown brown brown
Be a salute
From fork to mute
Of our common humanity
For whose going to stop us
The birds or the bees
And this brown brown brown
Be the flag of the humanity we wear
From infamy of mind
To the pork and the pear
Laid bare
Upon our shirt or lapel
Surely if we are to grapple
With ideas of genocide's justification
It's after picking the brown fibre
Of a pig's won't to pork
Upon your new shirt
With a clean silver fork
Or after dessert

Brown Brown brown
A majestic salute
Of this **** on bone
Into my mouth
Irreverent despise
This effigious moment
Of makes my surmise
Of this meat from this plate
Surety tu sate
It's Satan's will
In deep do I swill
Of all the kingdom's fawn
Fauna's adorn
Adorn ornate
From the midth of my plate
Into my bellies belie
Belittle my sweet tooth
From tooth suit sooth
The feel of my carnivorous desire
And it's encroach
To ****** from the animal kingdom
A bane or benign male
Or of femality
A skinned creature or scaled
Once skinned then scaled
To the nth of my teeth
From it's evolutionary course
To my 'mmms' whence eat
"I farm therefore I am"
My requite
My requiem
It's internment within my duodenum
If we as homosapien
We're a little lower
Of the evolutionary ladder
A little closer
To the whipchuk and adder
Perhaps this incongruity
Would seem of insurmount
That we would not take from the platter
Of that skitter skatter
Of paws and of hoof
Of feather and of scale
For it not our right
To interrupt the plight
Of species cultural agare
And of universal development
Of ******* disposition
And it's extant
Perhaps we'd be more likely
To drop a tear
Than a mensonge long of langue
A salivating spittle
Like the whistle and the sizzle
Of that press upon the plate
Of heated black iron
The steam and the vapour
Testament to the savour
To the saviour of the meal
As any connoisseur can tell you
Unless they alien to meat
The saviour of the meal
That muscular tender form
That reared from the twinkle
To the wink
The seed met it's drink
The phoetus
To the expressed
******* delight
This formling's fledgling plight
As it's eyes burn to new light
Of its heart and marrow and sinew
All fodder to our ensue
Of it's marriage to this world
Now married to our plate
Its existence to sate
Our sensory intuition
And if questioned
The lesser the tuition
Of salt and fat to the sate
Of blood and metal to the taste
Of bone and cartilage the waste
Unless hungry enough to chew
And **** it's marrow clean
And this meal
As if adieou
Of all memory
Of that beast's sense
Of this reality
And this brown brown brown
The king and capital of plate
And our position upon the evolutionary ladder
A little less seemingly madder
Of this culture of interrupting culture
For the satisfaction of our tongue
And of this insanity
Most seemingly insane
Shall affirm of our humane
As our cultural attest
To the other species detest
That the brown brown brown
Be a salute
From fork to mute
Of our common humanity
For whose going to stop us
The birds or the bees
And this brown brown brown
Be the flag of the humanity we wear
From infamy of mind
To the pork and the pear
Laid bare
Upon our shirt or lapel
Surely if we are to grapple
With ideas of genocide's justification
It's after picking the brown fibre
Of a pig's won't to pork
Upon your new shirt
With a clean silver fork
Or after dessert

min far har altid sagt at jeg skulle tage det sure med det søde
at jeg skulle nyde livet, og de morgner som er røde
dog så jeg kun natten sort, jeg så det hele galt
mit spørgsmål er, hvordan jeg kunne ende så fortabt og fatalt
ikke et barn, endnu ikk’ en voksen, døde øjne og coked op på lykkepiller
hvor længe lever jeg endnu
og fortæl mig, hvornår er det tågen forsvinder?
jeg prøver at ånde ud fra den røgsky jeg mig befinder
men det er bare som om jeg mangler en stifinder
kærlighed, siger de
kærlighed, håber vi
men idag er det penge og analsex
og selv de fattigste i DK har råd til et kompleks
vi er bundet på hænder og fødder
skatter og politi,
for de første ord vi snakker i dk er
egoisme og “pansersvin”
selvorienteret, disorienteret
vi er alle født så uendeligt privligeret
opvokset med en guldske i røven,
vi spiller alle så fandens civiliseret


-Cathrine Berendt

Ignight matches, ember flashes;
skatter ashes, synapse crashes.
shattered egos, falling seagulls;
escaped evils, louring reels.
when the past begins ignition,
animate my superstitions,
demonstrate simple submission.
after my final decision,
with unbelievable percision.
stay the course, on a mission;
the death of all know memory;
stems the voice to reach my ear;
the foolishness of men I see;
neon fantacy without fear.
the audacity of the dead blooming,
the understanding in darkness looming,
the screaming, flying, fading, fuming,
tendency to hate consuming.
spreading spores to distant shores,
apple cores and opened doors.
fleeing, fighting, never lying,
down apon this ancient ground;
**** this town, it's over now;
**** this town, let's end it now.
In the turn of pages and sheets,
the end is something that's bound to repeat.

Pitter patter,
Skitter skatter,
Wish you were faster,
Walking to the door.

Pitter patter,
Skitter skatter,
My heart is shattered,
As you destroy my inner core.

I’m nothing but a **** tied to my vices
I’ve always been cataclysmic and narcissistic
Trying to silence my mind shut up and listen
To your melody calling and dragging away
The skitter skatter mind of man in me
I NEED WANT WON’T CAN’T STOP!
Hark! The Fallen Angel in me resides
Recalling the child that once was is not never will be again
Taken by the illusive beauty of realms unseen
Covering the trap I’m now ensnared by
The LOVE CRAVE LUST MUST STOP
You’re the strength in my veins to get through each day
Yet also the itch of a tick on the small of my back.
You show me the serenity of stratified sunset skies
Then clip my wings to keep me from flying away.
I LOVE CRAVE LUST MUST STOP
Like an undertaker digging the ditch,
For the former resident of this toil torn body.
I’ve hit the bottom yet keep sinking deeper,
Into a tomb so low I can no longer see the top.
I NEED WANT WON’T CAN’T STOP
Because I’m nothing but a **** tied to my vices.

Tonight as I lay upon my pillow of nails my heart falls into a thousand galaxies. The pain that love has tattooed upon my heart has become more than my shoulders can carry. Thousands of stars have been plastered upon my skies with the words that each of you skatter to the wind. The beauty that each of you my friends share with rhyme and love is beyond that of imagination. My only regret as the time winds down is that of not reading more of each your poems of eloquence. You have bestowed so many pictures to my heart and to my soul. These are images that will bless me with fiery, graceful pictures of elegance until the ends of time. What no one has gathered with these words of my heart is that it isn't poetry. These are and have been nothing more than my legacy. My twisted rhymes and challenges to the hearts brain have been little more than an explanation to those that stay upon the path. My family, I have blessed with letters written with tears and shaky hands. Though some of the words may have been blurred with pain that splattered upon those pages, what was not wiped away should help them understand it wasn't greed or a lack of love. It wasn't against God nor did I lose faith. There comes a day when the rock in the sling can no longer slay the beast. It is then that that the giant and his sword of agony pierces the angels wings. The day has approached for the anniversary that I placed a promise upon the second finger from the right. My final poem will not be upon a page, but it shall be upon the stone that I sat my future and I gave my heart. Upon the mountains dust shall I leave the letters. It is upon each of your sights that I leave my second legacy. For my wonderful friend I found a star tonight. It was the brightest in the sky. I called that star, KimStar as I promised. If you shall look for the brightest star that is the star that I fell upon my knees and begged God to touch your body and heal your soul. You shall have my poem by my mornings light and I will make it shine. Tash oh Tash your heart your heart. No bigger blessing has God bestowed upon us miserable excuses for life. You are truly Gods Angel. You should know a creep I'm not. Tonight your beautiful voice shall I hear as the angels hug me tight and carry me past the stars. Wanmin, I can't even find a place to start. The beauty that you have delivered into a darkened soul have been so gracious. Thank you for the kind words that melted my heart and gave light to my darkness. Oh my God Gregory, tonight you have brought the tears to my eyes that washed the pain from my heart. I had no idea I touched you when you needed it. Be not deceived my friend. It wasn't you that has been blessed. It is I that have been touched and blessed just by being in your presence even for a moment. Your words are genius. Actually they should not be called genius, you deserve more credit than that. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Free mind. I have not finished the poem that we started together, but I shall try to, before……. I am ashamed that my words could never match the words that your heart placed upon our poem. Your friendship….. I can't express my gratitude any more than to say. Wow, you are all heart and your soul is an old soul that is perfection. She writes, oh does she ever write. If her poetry you havent over indulged upon yet, grab your fork and spoon and prepare for a meal that will satisfy your soul to the depths of eternity. I meant every word I said. Your eyes tell the story that your words describe. Put those words upon the page my friend and bless me with one final eternity in your words, but be kind. A poet makes or breaks those that encounter their pen. My friends as I close my eyes and beg God for no mornings light grieve not for life is only what we make it and when the winds blow all that is left is the hopes that you touched a poets heart. One last and final request. Leave something upon my page for those that shall read it after me. Thank you my friends. It is each of you that I think of tonight. Farwwell

I am sitting, paralyzed, below  
the precipice of an avalanche looms  
I cannot move, I cannot cry  
I can only gaze high up the sky.  

Stones skitter, skatter, patter  
against my skin leaving just  
patterns woven in purple  
and red rain, pleading out  

The rest will come soon,  
but I have no means to hurry them on  
I sit — no, she suffocates me  
wraps her gauzy arms until

Calm, all suppressed  
Rage, embers struggling free  
If that is what it must be,  
let us pay the fee.

My mind floats high,  
the time to go is not yet nigh

If the end is already set  
Why struggle? Why try?  
Sink into the lullaby  

Just don't crash back to Earth,  
before it is time.

Did you know people exist universally
..what missed the material witness?! Surely...

While magic reforms the reversal diode
The street of dreams cues another ladder
of the consciousness you showed
With the skitter skatter what once was efforts and memory
Are now removal followed with indignations as if a shoe in
for the reformations bearing...every...
Material want.. as with all beings
And into the times of magic we go as infant then through
The two events even though their minds' eye
includes no sensations of the sound or wanton
Immerse yet driven people as acolytes caught in minutes
of somatics and summoning spells begin or done
The error of reasoning returns to trails can this mean to those
a play on war in that which God and soul avails
yet vengeance though good was a ranted play on the terms
Which should weigh heavily ensnared in blue and green
as if this seismic chain was free and clean
So too does once the magic.. reforms assimilations
of bodies and paths then so too shall it be with the created of celebrations