Any man canst treat his woman as a sleeze,
But canst thou treat her as a queen?

****** Factor

old Ralphy McCalister they all called him Chubs
he was a one of kind ****** ball even rooted for the Cubs
he thought he was slick yes he thought he was cool
only thing wrong was most thought he was a tool

greasy long black hair combed high on his head
various sized zits on his face all puffy and red
he still wore high heeled boots to make him seem tall
always trying to impress saying I have to take this call

when everyone knew it was most likely his mom
he'd wink at you and say loudly hey hi there Tom
who was supposed to be some famous music man
working on a record deal for Chubs and Steely Dan

it's funny cause he couldn't play, dance or sing
his best known talent was drooling over some young thing
with his black leather jacket and skin tight jeans
only tune he could play was after eating baked beans

he wore phony gold bracelets and chains round his neck
spent time in the pokey for kiting a check
always looking for an angle to scam off a buck
his made-up stories could fill a large truck

yes on the sleeze meter he scored a staggering plus
there goes another of his pimples about to ooze ****
you know he might have had a chance at being an actor
one thing for sure was he had that special sleeze factor

Gomer LePoet...

I belive it was in a rest stop outside of Nashville when I first discovred just what lost truely

was.

The people moved ants to a hive.

Ghost's to the shell so to speak.



Looking up routes streching worn stiff leg's and existing in personal bubbles.

Affraid a seconds conversation would burst a moments ******* cast

existance.



But I only sat watching happy to be a viewer to many seperate acts in a bound for nowhere

play.



Hey you have the time?

I dont even have a watch.

I replyed to some lost south bound kid more ******* up looking

than myself.

He said nothing more as he simply  faded into the herd.



They were all bound for somewhere  and me I was just killing time.

My home was wherever I could catch a few hours sleep.

And hopefully I'd be outta this state befor long.



I was a nomad most called me a ***.

A traveler of fate and a lazy ******* to caught up in my own personal gains to settle down.



The voices of reason would seem to echo through strangers.

Whenever I'd take time to speak like some twisted record player

they'd always repeat.



So where you heading?

Nowhere and hopefully it has  a bar.



Why you on the road?

Well really I just decided to take a walk one day.



Where from?

North Carolina.

Wow why you in Texas.

It's a long walk.



Man your weird!.

Arent we all in some way?



And with that the conversation would fade into my beloved silence.

And I would view the highway and it's ever changing landscape.



The mountian  sunset's ,the desert  in the moolight ,

A city slum to a rest stop outside of Nashville where you find me now.



I'd seen Americas watercolors and her sharp edges and still charming sleeze.

And from a shared ride to a cold park bench.

I was embracing the forbidden fruit spoken of by

far better  fools and writers than me.



For true freedom was seldom safe.

But I viewed this world a travller a stranger to all including myself.



And from strange looks to even more bizzar remarks from  thoose who couldnt fathom

someone existing with no true purpose.



The question always was asked

from so many forgetable faces.



So where are you going?

Im just taking a long walk home.

Sweet rejection a simple pinch and slap in the face.
Drunken splendor  and a ***** floor.
Some woman I dont care to know why do I always
find myself in this ****** up place.

Puff Puff Pass.
Wild Turkey loud music im such a happy sleeze
with not a hint of class.
Lean of over the bar my dear you fill my thought's and i your glass.


I walked when I was ten.
Runaway in New Orleans dont belive I could do that one again
Two packs a day and a shakey hand.
Midnight drives strippers in arm bar's
with floor's of sand.

Im not ment for long but sugar im here now.
Drinkin till I die fields of my past been burried
long ago under plow.

Dance in happiness die without regret.
My friends names tattoo my thoughts.
Richard ,Rach,Baths,Lily,Paula how can I ever forget.

******* up perfection is I.
A perfect losser who could care less.
How could you ever shed a tear when I die?

Rearview babydoll backseat queen.
Stay crazy in this cold place.
Skeeter do you still dream in your beauty so tormented
and obscene.

Where all perfect for are flaws.
Barstool will be forever empty.
Im tried but always eager to fall down for a
half naked body or a fellow lunatics cause.

Gonzo do ya know how they see ya outside thoose glasses
so dark.
The partys jester  spirt of a eternal teen.
Empty cans hold court by the lake of lovers lane
where still they park.

Richard a bottle  and friendship forever i'll share.
Insane is a buddy but never worry.
Cause even a falldown drunk does care.

So sad is the fading light bitter the moment.
But perfect isthe ****** up song though.
Kids dont let em break ya you stay crazy.

And I'll forever be Gonzo.

We aren't friends
We're just cool

Theres no reason i can't give kindness
And dismiss you like I'm mindless

I don't mind it's
Just something

I do to make me feel a little better about living
Through my anxiety and pain

Anxieties and pains
Crush girlfriend wife migraines

Eating disorders
So now i eat junk because it rots my brain

Maybe it's insane
Maybe i don't feel like myself when i express these thangs

These rack my brain while i rack these weights

**** now im going to be late
That's another 15 that i wont be paid

Now i have to look at my supervisor say
This is why you won't get a raise
At same time another mans chick is on my brain
I just want to see her taint
No not that one
That **** stank

In the meantime im ******* with a chick that's twice my age

And another with 6 kids to date
**** I'm in a pickle
Few can relate

This is the **** that I hate

With my third eye strife
This is my life
And when i dig my grave its gonna to be very nice

With my cake
And my bed
Made it
Laid it
And ate every slice

If i do right
Can i just say that I'm kind
My egos bind
Why am i lyin

This is why i Write
Its not for you this time

Most breeze through the Boardwalk Big Dipper Bling
Ocean Street Sleeze, and a walk on Cowell Beach and say
I've seen it all, that's Santa Cruz, as they cruise off on highway 1
or crash into the barriers or 17 but that's not all, at all
I love Santa Cruz on a bright sunny day in May as I
gorge on the Indian vegetarian buffet, available all day, by the way
And check out the O'Niel sidewalk sale, and then past the sweaty crowds in front
of the Cineplex and the sign in the window display at Camouflage that reminds:
May is National ******* Month, are you doing your part?
and at Pergolesi a homemade sign says "friends don't let friends drink Starbucks"
and there are two art house cinemas within 200 yards of each other
and there are lesbians holding hands and homeless people breathing the fresh air
with their shelter pets and I feel free
like anything can happen here, even me

Who takes precious pearls and throws them to the pigs, I wonder?
Who considers gold and silver better off cast asunder?
Or who sees love as a fleeting thing? As if a crack of thunder?
All these questions lie inside as I sit and deeply ponder.

I have no doubt, folks choose these routes. A disfigured, battered blessing. Hate has wrought all love is lost. Our hearts need an assessing.
Humanity, as you can see, has backpeddled. Now regressing.
The world has fought for hatred to be taught. To love I am insisting.


For I remember a time so very long ago
When households stuck together, and in love they did grow.
When families basked in togetherness.
And each other they did know.
Now broken, battered blessings
This world has now bestowed.

Dont hug or touch. We don't get affection much. We all must keep our distance.
To be alone with hearts of stone.
Humanities resistance
A worldwide epidemic - not the flu,
But hatred is the menace.
Do not come near! Your presence is feared! For closeness makes us grimace.

Now here my plea, open up your eyes and see. Who it is, to be our true enemy.
Each and every one must flee - from hatred, lust, fear and greed.
For the devil has done his job. A job well done - a planted seed.
Dont embrace it or defend it! Fight back! Advice all of us should heed!

People act as if they think a vaccine might be the answer.
While hatred effectively grows inside like an insidious, smirking cancer.
People just don't get it because the truth
Has now been blurred.
Now all are fixated on the ruse -
A great deception has occurred.

This world has become manic and were caught up in the panic, but its our hearts that are diseased.
All in all hate has to stall. Our pride, our sins, must stop, must freeze.
We have to shed this wickedness -
This spiritually infested sleeze.
Come back to the LORD our God -
Come back to our knees.

Love inevitably is the cure, of this I'm sure.
You all have heard my plea.
Lay your sins down on the floor and sin no more and set your bound souls free.
For we were not made to live in fear -
But to be filled with love and filled with glee.
So let us all begin to love each other once again. I will start. I'll take the lead. Once you have revived your hearts then carry love and follow me.

I was a *** addict,
starting at seven,
no I didn't have *** then,
but the stage was set
and developing.

Disconnected at home,
parents speaking Chinese,
with no language for love,
I found it elsewhere,
in a stash of sleeze.

Magazines,
make-out scenes,
lingerie ads,
**** scrambed on tv,

my young eyes transfixed
on what I thought was love,
on an illusion,
a fake,
a counterfeit,
hooked on intensity,
longing for intimacy,
a boy devoured by sexuality,
a boy yearning for so much more.

I did always tend to shy
to the side of life hidden by shadows
guided by mossy, abandoned walls
stacking bricks of one untold story after another to guide this life I lead
and all my favorite people come here
the mad and insane, the villains and vixens
smoking jokes with the jokester
like you want to play a little game
adrenaline ****** riding through the twists and turn of your brain
past the sleeze and the tease that you tucked between your sheets
all the times you denied lust because love looks better dressed
for the rest of the guests in your life
down and around the time you tried to lie just to please
some made up story that made life sound a little easy
say cheese
on roller coasters they always did take ******* pictures
and you chose the perfect spot between what you want us to see
and what you've fooled us all into thinking that you've chosen to be

but what's printed in a picture
is but smoke of what's real
real smiles feelings laughter drift away
when our lips make way to fake a buffet of happiness
its just a rush of blood to your head
to project the ideal scene from your pupils
melt into this pixelated reality like hey it can be real
you just have to believe me
that all this scenery wasn't result of sketching my cutest dreams
but in my head, the cute is starting to get dim
as its drifting further away from this mischievous grin
the cheshire cat was always my best friend, magic
like sleight of hand in a grin, fading in and out and in
this reality can be intriguing, disbelieving, a never ending day dream
like every substance to touch my tongue dancing in my words
to paint the streets and trails under my feet
its the clearest sense of clarity, and indefinite reality of everything that your senses think is a tease
like risk stained lips
sentences laced in ******* of persuasion
bones that guide your latest fantasy to take to dancing
like your entire world lost to the madness of *******
RGB slinging and sleighing everything ticking around this clock
its a melting masterpiece, sinking into the core
but theres more, beating down the door, vibrating the floor
sending the ground to clouds to float on
I bet you never saw that the clouds were but the smoke of every worry we've let go
I always wrote tales laced in gold when it was an overcast flow
when the grass blurs to floating snow, its an oscar winning show
dancing on your chest, coughing out all of the mess
**** it, forget the rest

im always preaching of the same thing
because society has changed our reality to gasping screams
stretching the grasp of sanity to something that seems pleasing
but minds have lost their soul when ghouls take to slashing
the hopes and dreams from the pleas
leaving them to dress the headlines in other countries
like we have to do something if we tell all the people
in new york times san francisco,
we'll leave our impact in a chronicle to find home on a dusty shelf
with every other mistake that betrayed our trust
you see, i've read the books of our history and nothing is really a mystery
its the biggest scheme in the 21st century, hiding our undying hypocrisy
and I went mad in a rhyme because I frequently test time
because I couldn't find sublime in the latest headlines but with each passing day, my reservoir is failing to drought as all these thoughts are racing out

Ma heart it bleed
I ware dis heart
On dis Italian sleeve.
I'm sick of *******
And men who are sleeze.
I take this me
And recreate.
What is past
I keep it past
What is now
Stay now.
But I will get
To da betta man
Soon somehow.
I'm ****
Kool
A babye gurl
Looking for da right one
To rule ma world.
Where are yuo babye boye?
Jake lefte
At least I thinke.
So now what do I do.
What do I say
Ma heart is cutting me down
I feel ma self buried in grave.

I heareth the hellion goblin's calling me out
They bite and spit
Caress me in doubt

I heareth their moans
As their burnt to the crisp
I rip off their appendage's
Buckle their lips

I rip off their wings
And taketh their masks
I cut them by holy water
And split them in half

This soul is not thine own
Thou brute of pleasure dome
This spirits not for thee
Thy dirtbag and sleeze

This soul is mine creators
And shalt return soon
Go back to thy flame
Thou mame of baboon!!

my constant lover has run off on his flight of fancy

and in his absence I am lost,

I dont want to think of you.

I dont want to be thrown back in that boat with you

I am aprehensive.

I am dragging my feet

those fake smiles and snorty vibes

the i really couldnt give a **** reply

all the pretending

the preditor and the prey

whos in control?

none of us it seems

but the fates have conspired once again

and another preening ritual is attended

and for what?

to show you what it is you havent got.

but you notice things like that dont you?

I will speak to you with those eyes you mask with hate

and I will mirror cool disinterest

and the rest shall feel ill at ease at my presence

while I fit in with the calm ease

of even the greatest sleeze.

comfortable in my destruction

and thier recoil at my gall

to put the **** out there so nicely

like it doesnt stink at all...

Addicted
craving and sleeze
Because every time i breathe
Adds a prescription of anesthetic I need
To benumb shaking hands
And passive aggressive thoughts
Passing when our eyes
Forget that our demise could be prevented
With one gentle cry of mirth

My skin screams from all the sights it must take
And every touch on this earth
Crawls with aggressive ****
But my gentle breaths
Make my heart flutter without beat
And that is all, not of death,
The world must ask of me.

Before inconsolable
Before despairing
Before broken
Noone there
No caring.
Before dejected
Before rejected
Only by my looks
And reading books
Did I get respected.
Before worthless
At least feeling so,
Before a ****, a dirt ball
A sleeze bag
***!
Before I came to be
Before I came to know.
Me!
I found out
I realized
I understood
I wasn't what I was told
I wasn't what I was
Made to be.
I was someone beautiful
I reflected who God
Made me.

that history happens in america -
it's hardly a history as: historicity and more
showbiz...
        such that there's a trickling down...
it must be a dilution...
            nothing as spectacular
as: all eyes on h'america...
                                and elsewhere:
"elsewhere" the hobbits as such:
the whittle people of whipped cream
and croissants...
                   even france in the anglophone
context looks like a pompous,
powdered and pampered cuckoo and ape...
or germany... a somewhat feral
elevation...
             but it's not like in the realm
of the english-speaker there's any outside
influence...
          say... reading an essay by
milan kundera -
                              the: this, that and the other...
for a spectator - it's hardly
belittling pointers...
            after all... to expect a harvest
of something irish...
                         dunces and collateral...
not the irish...
     the figment of my imagination people...
the sub-membrane of tick-tock
glue and societal prospects of oiling and gluing
together...
       in the advent of the current "crisis":
but since this is not ancient rome...
  but it is given the replica coliseums of football
events...
    hardly a concern for: bread & circuses...
oh the bread, the bread is plentiful...
the circuses... well...
              fear is mighty entertaining...
as i walked through the labyrinth of outer-suburban
streets at night i had a thought:
which didn't evolve into a narrative...
or a river or how... the very large
could ever fit into the very small...
that there could be some mundane pickpocket
of detail...
     it was only a grand:
how best to return to our own little hell...
   to the pickled juices...
to the softened tendons and cartilage...
to edible sinew...
  to ****** at marrow cooked tender...
                 this personal little hell...
with a heaven a grand scheme of loosely
associated democratic pillars...
kept in tow like apparitions of formerly
used dog leash and muzzle...
   however: to be best reminded
about the disparity between the french
and the talk of ***...
                   the english and...
                                    the puritans...
but moi humpty-dumpty...
          sitz on zee fences among the whittle
people making concessions
to the: beside the altar...
              rather... the confessional cubicle
of mother russia's 'oomb: dangle the W
or the apostrophe and: extension...
  i.e.       wording: 'omega...
                      or... 'omicronomicron...
         woe in the wooing wool tangle...
   or at best: label everything erotica!
             call arachnophobia... erotica!
                the clickbait cider bubbling style...
mania-tripping at seeing numbers
from a grand void of 0 views
prop themselves like... elder judges
of the republic of mushrooms...
              teasing the project of investing
in hallucinogenic-will gangrene of
ingested: soap-water gurgle...
                    passing into the aether!

words more words and no great story...
hell... bordering on borrowing
a greek letter / two...
culmination?
          to have to jest at america...
given... the predisposition of knee-****
reaction of the upcoming event...
it's a teasing...
            in summary:
i believe that there's an america...
that only happens... in america...

i have to reiterate this...

i believe that there's an america...
that only happens... in america...
   which is: beside the cultural export
machinery of the film...
and the... well... perhaps the music...
perhaps a book... or poem...
but not really...
            the film... most certainly...
ford & film...
                   but it's hardly a mercedes
and a heidegger...

forever america: the church burden...
    and for such a protestant sensibility...
nearing a return to the outdated
               catholicism...
because not of the ritual... to be taken seriously...
it's that the ritual is a prop...
so to... take thinking seriously...
which is a complete inversion
of values of the protestant guise...

the lack of pompous rituals to make
thinking a serious affectionate prefix
with no real borrowing of a definite noun definition...
that the protestant has no...
lax in the ritual: sleeze out a seriousness
of "thought" - or rather...
this overt self-consciousness
introspect...
                     but to hide behind
the "taking it seriously" eucharist...
this blanket of metaphor...

       or... american high schools...
                   casual clothing...
                          otherwise in england...
a "catholicism" of...
less the schooling and more...
       uniform binding "******" & "bistro"...
metaphors no metaphors...
best: misnomers...

                              in between:
a solo and cross-"country" roadtrips of
the american youth...
                     from the outside in...
well... it's hardly a country...
         croatia the size of Illinois:
hypothetically...
            cross-continental...
and leading toward borrowing something
from... so anywhere to go...
anywhere to be...
it's hardly reverting back
to some proto-lingual dutch... lisp...

all the world in the cusp
of your hand...
but the inability to revert and find
a return to... the zenith period
of ol' merry england... dickens...
here outlasting the empire: morphed...
barren land with a continuum
of a loot of souls...
once the barbarian local have dried up...
which is... unlike the story
of the spanish tongue...
which was never going to be
a competition with the french...
who merely nibbled at some variation
of elsewhere...

         of the little people and the little
places...
beside the whole mongol-esque
landmass of russia...
                  which is a quickly equipped
revision of mc'edonia...
            
the odd promise of: only via new york...
we congested european rats...
but in the open country...
and to travel to america for the fetish
of a road-trip?

       what about pablo coelho...
notably... it would take... a bilingual...
knowledge of dickens and cervantes...
and laughing at aztec bones talking
backwards... rattling...
then the pristine "impossibility" of not
moving anywhere... expecting...
telekinesis and telepathy in a *******
town... aspiring to a prayer to IT...

        i'm a very simple person...
notably when i speak...
but when i write?
language tends to... over-complicate itself
without my wish...
perhaps i would like to tame...
expand... peer at a pop-sized audience
of a harlequin romance novel...

i've been to russia...
trains...             trains...
all the way from st. petersburg to moscow...
there's no concept of a car...
there's the train...
siberia is allocated a mention
of a train artery...
   i'd like to visit the faroe islands...
and... the kamchatka peninsula...
             alaska...
          given: what is stockholm, venice...
paris... athens... barcelona...
tying myself to a source of story-making...
story-constipation...
       cosmopolitan bravado...
              but... in the giggling recluse daydream...
of somewhere like...
            
     why this forever not... settled...
tongue tangle of lost geographic extension of detail:
to the ******* moon?!
now: nearing the impossible...
no wonder the nickname of english cricketers
is... tourists...
which they are...
                      but not for the love of god...
would i want to start of
a railway line to replica artery and veins
in africa...
      this... malevolent philanthropy auspice...
tour two:
i have more regard for
a misanthrope than
a philanthrope... given the categorical
imperative: Kant mingles with Tao:

maxim: the best way you can aid the world...
is for the world to forget you...
and for you to forget the world...
which is somewhat a conundrum...
                i.e. by some famous taoist...

i much prefer: tease at the world...
to play a commitment to a body
with a toying of an overburdening shadow
"suitcase": thoughts bent toward
hades...

  how the russians never invented
a narrative tied with a car...
or a horse... or a train...
given... that "enough" of siberia...
i guess... the nature of english...
it has to be exhausted prematurely
with inhibitions of...
island genesis...

             ants in your pants:
to the moon and back...
by way of bystanding...
the hebrews are shy nomads...
the arabs are wannabe and camel jockeys...
the hebrews are shy nomads
and the english... am i to be guilt
riddled by learning / borrowing /
not speaking in tongues / accents...
anglo-whale and the hebrew glitterbox
of details...

and i too took to a road-trip in
an adventure bias of taming the impersonality
of the ego: that automaton
of grieving a collected
           shy and shadow fancy of spew
my numb prospect of the disused
muscle... stiff coming
as with the prospect of a snake making
me be startled...

            always darwinian a priori...
like some copernican heliocentric primordial...
SONST-WOHIN

      some variation of the fwench "other"....
sonstwohin is a dasein...
beside a fixation on the golgotha...
  mirrors and mirages...
frogs and testickles...
                           tatar stakes and Kiev
contested between proud Muscovites
and sorrow-riddled-Pruß...

who could have been traced back
to the concept of shoelaces
with the Lithuanians, the Estonians...
the Latvians...
if there was a lessening of pressure
from the Scandinavian tribes
to excavate a modern presence...

can't we call the english the ulterior
semites?
if one prefix is in play...
toying with a definition of semite:
anti-: an argument against
heb' marx or some arab tailor...
  but the island dwelling folk...
the ulterior-          prefix beginning with
the atlantic sea: and the myth of atlantis...
lend me your rubber ear...
lend me having invested in...
the precursor...
having from an invested rome...
some wouldn't question...
metaphor celtic england an Afghanistan...
that Rome teased the germanic
people...

but because of the Huns...
and i am somewhat...
borrowing a sorrow with a term
like etymology... vandal?
it has to be so cheap and so easily
stolen...
             for the worth of goth
and spain and later... north africa...
a people and a "place"...
                
         greek seems unchanged...
tickling a sound akin to spanish...
but that... latin is... dead...
and how italian isn't... nowhere near...
the ordeal of concubine and church
monstrosity...
          well...
                 i must be! new h'american!
              and the old...
                        in that... perhaps i could
visit these colonies and never...
      best second attempt expat stature
within a combat of Tokyo...
                        
a car...  a car... a crayon! a crayon!
my horse! my hoarse inability and...
shooting practice with debility angelic!

.                                              swedes,
**** germans
mispronouncing names,
russians not giving
a ****:
козел... koza (female,
gender plural neutral),
   kozioł...
  (male, gender exclusive
non plural)...
mongols...
     mongols esp.,
"as if" we protected
the peoples of the western
hinterlands...
the low-lands...
ottoman turks...
   świnia - (female) pig...
male pig?
                  k'nur.
ever ear the male pig's reply
"trapped" in a trough
with a harem handy?
            you want
to play the grammar game?
i'll play the grammar game!
my people protected
your people,
for this lot of **** and *******?!
you have to be kidding me...
no, really,
you have to be kidding me,
for, ****'s sake!
point being: you don't like me,
and.. given the current
pakistani **** gang
example: i'm clearly not
able... to like you, either...
     so... we're even...
aren't we, herr anglais?!
           i'm all for it,
your people telling a bunch
of more of your people
how to rewrite grammar...
   no.. no..
this is not a foreign invasion...
it's allocated to:
having the ***** to say
that you were already thinking...
but doing nothing about...
instead pillow mastering
the lease on
a football match...
         ******,
******, ******, beyond
the st. peter's cockerel...
fourth time: a complete,
and utter... ******!
          this! this is the respect
i or we are to receive?!
cheap labourer wages...
right...
     guess what...
you deserve that, which you,
have reaped...
                 no...
this time: it's a variety of:
not really...
           you snippet your
******* netherland tulips...
you collect
your fwench asparagus...
        and your english
apples...
              your belgian
****-up-chocs...
          suddenly i feel "ambitious"...
not that i will gain anything
from it,
it's not like i will meet a
****** beauty and start a family
with her...
    but i will: be left,
death assured...
with the sort of peace that
leaves me without
making a: the west will survive
argument...
            whatever the hell
that implies...
                 i'm buying time
until the eroticism of ******
of a heart-attack...
              levels me to
a waited for plateau...
                  
mind you:
i'm lucky to express these
"fweelings" in this language...
this grand an feral land...
where spring gives off
a scent of winter,
and the scent being:
    auburn, the slow burning of
wood... smokey...
even among these spring bloom
colours... the persistent winter
clarifies the perfumery
of the night...
with... something akin
to smoking oak barrels...
should an eel sleeze itself in,
or a salmon,
or a liter of whiskey...
akin to the english,
i too take pride...
   christianity only came 'ere
in 962AD...
the romans never set foot
on these lands...
        i have a skin's worth
of tattoos...
these are my, tattoos...
  the battle of grunwald
(15 july 1410)
   the battle of vienna
(12 september 1683)...
here you go... my tattoos...
the battle for moscow
(september 1 and 3, 1612)...
hastings...
the battle of hastings...
              i'll speak the language
of the natives...
but please don't think
i'll just, "simply"...
   blank the rest of me
for a ******* chinese take-away
tattoo of ideogram on my bicep!
there are limits to being
reasonable...
once you cross them...
don't expect any paddy power
enforcement to make it
compliant to continue to fake
entertaining the sikh
turban...
         like unto like...
             i hate being made being
patronißed...
because by then...
why wouldn't i contradictorily
side with someone, akin to,
                       herr zeppelin?
you take pride in yours,
i will take pride in mine...
             then we're even...
i just can't become bothersome
with these mickey mouse
quasi-communists
of the current social narrative...
just say it out-loud:
we miss the old soviets,
we miss the old soviets,
we miss the cold war narrative,
we miss the old soviets...
given, what you're producing
right now?
it's not something to be feared...
deplatform: sure...
but do you have the power
to cut the electricity supply
to my house?
  no... i guessed just as much...
internet banking and
shopping,
the internet from the late 1990s
with internet chatrooms...

              you really just miss
the old soviets, don't you?
with capitalism having imploded
upon itself...
   you stand before your own
worst enemy:
                                 yourself!

All Is A Will For Power Nothing More

*******
hallucination in philosphical explanation
politicians drink my wine come and smoke my tea
we all tend to disagree from all the demonic mockery
painted fences with reckless advances
no second chances have to be perfect
whom do you seek or willingly agree
cats with blue hats
working so hard can give you a heart attack
put out some slack
stubborn liberal hot headed mess
feminist
equate logic for fear

existentialism at its best
I must clearly confess
we are in quite a mess
everyone's worshipping something
got a bun in the oven
kissing your second cousin
headed for destruction
inhillation in its soul vexation
Trump in his ivory tower can't even take a cold shower
North Korea's little boy porker
where the **** is this wall ?
do we have to hear it from the voice of a no it all

barbed wire fences
extremeties to watch suckers bleed
****** on the rise
abortion on demand
when will we ever live to understand
Elder Bush try's to get some bush
the corporate greed what a ******* sleeze
busy as a bee in your society
blinded leaders of the blind
some will fall into a great ditch
then most marry a *****
yet lust isn't pure love
we sweep things under the rug
Satan laughing spreads his wings
all in all by its evil twisted means

can't help you
cause they can't even help themselves
extortioners & real liars
no one has a voice today
no one gives a ****
worried abouth Hugh Hefner ******* on his final ***
zombie creatures with viscous fangs that bite dripping blood of side
you all want to just run away & hide
its the actual day of the walking dead face full of lead
for I exist as if a vapor then I am no more
a challenge to be free is a question of time

The stench of sleeze and more than apathy......
A will to drag you through the mire
With full intent
To accommodate
Everyones view
A yellow brown slime covers
A hand full of
Tentacles.......
Persevered in
Perversity
Groping unwanted.......
Or
Open arms understanding
A unconditional love wishing to full fill youre dreams. ........
And takes off her ring
Rams it down my throat with a contemptuous
Fist ..........
Then the twist
When he dumps her and shes humiliated .....
She runs straight to me
Tells me all about it. I console she feels whole and shes off with a
Laugh ......
Its gettin old

*******
hallucination in philosphical explanation
politicians drink my wine come and smoke my tea
we all tend to disagree from all the demonic mockery
painted fences with reckless advances
no second chances have to be perfect
whom do you seek or willingly agree
cats with blue hats
working so hard can give you a heart attack
put out some slack
stubborn liberal hot headed mess
feminist
equate logic for fear

existentialism at its best
I must clearly confess
we are in quite a mess
everyone's worshipping something
got a bun in the oven
kissing your second cousin
headed for destruction
inhillation in its soul vexation
Trump in his ivory tower can't even take a cold shower
North Korea's little boy porker
where the **** is this wall ?
do we have to hear it from the voice of a no it all

barbed wire fences
extremeties to watch suckers bleed
****** on the rise
abortion on demand
when will we ever live to understand
Elder Bush try's to get some bush
the corporate greed what a ******* sleeze
busy as a bee in your society
blinded leaders of the blind
some will fall into a great ditch
then most marry a *****
yet lust isn't pure love
we sweep things under the rug
Satan laughing spreads his wings
all in all by its evil twisted means

can't help you
cause they can't even help themselves
extortioners & real liars
no one has a voice today
no one gives a ****
worried abouth Hugh Hefner ******* on his final ***
zombie creatures with viscous fangs that bite dripping blood of side
you all want to just run away & hide
its the actual day of the walking dead face full of lead
for I exist as if a vapor then I am no more
a challenge to be free is a question of time
Inside I feel pain straight up from the rap game totally insane
Trump is not the voice of me I'm in the zone working on my legacy
Got bars you see making sweet history soaring to newer heights
Fresh words to be chosen I'm frozen put on foot in the oven my cousin
Rap needs chemistry you see working on my higher degree I cleave,
Please be responible or else you'd be in the hospital keep the game close
It's your choice got bars rolling in my Royal Royce got the hook up

Im hurting I
miss ............
my ...........
sleeze.........
I hope you ball...(ball)
I hope you ball
in
Peace




I
Cant
         See
               You
                         Go
I see you in my dreams
                 Falling
         Away
From
Me

-     I
      -                       Cant

  -   See
    
            -     You

      -     Go    ------------
.........  I see you in my dreams
               Falling
Away
                           From









Me.