My technology nightmare
Leaves me euphoric this morning.
Addicted, like drug trials,
I knew the risks going in,
Got hooked in The Cloud &
Now it always seems easier,
With diminished psychic chafing
Whenever I go with the flow, as the
Hipsters are saying again.
Yes, the hipsters:
Finally, some kids I can relate to.
At least on some level, their music e.g.
The first thing I did this morning,
Waiting for my laptop to boot,
Was put a CD on the stereo:
Matrix Reloaded: The Album.
I set the shuffle function,
Looping back between
Linkin Park’s Session &
Team Sleep’s Passportal.
You can tell a lot about
What kind of day it will be
By the soundtrack you choose,
Your infinite play list,
Don’t ever say these kids have no culture,
Or nothing to share with us old farts.
Old Farts: an apt, Baby Boomer term in 2015.
Kids’ music, some of it quite good,
Quite 60s-worthy if you catch my drift,
As we used to say while grazing in the grass with
Hugh Masekela & his Naai Mongoe-Swazi red,
Surfrikan homeboys & band mates, & that
ANC Kwa-Guqa Township posse,
Shadowing him since Sharpeville.
That’s right, Babaloo,
Go with the flow.
Don’t fight it. You’ve been spared the unintended
Consequences of government shenanigans &
Free market meltdowns.
Consider this a CEASE & DESIST NOTICE:
Cease swimming upstream Mr. Phelps.
Desist fighting tide & current, Michael.
A mariner’s distinction, yet serviceable &
Purposed for this narrative.
“And away we go,” croons a Gleason levitation;
Aloft we go into the wild blue yonder.
The Cloud: an exalted playground.
You are atop the slide,
Kindergarten lord of all you survey,
Sultan, Chinese Emperor & Venetian Doge,
A 90-caliber Duke of Earl,
You are euphoric, Mike.

The descent into the humanoid condition
(See Paddy Chayefsky’s Howard Beale),
Is slick and precipitous.
It begins when you first finger ****
A pocket calculator or touchtone phone,
Or use a Xerox machine.
From there it’s a quick slide down
The technology ****-shoot: video games,
Spreadsheets & word processors,
Emails, texts & tweets,
Laser projection keyboards,
Wi-Fi amplifiers,
GPS navigators, &
Apps for No-Strings *** . . .
By “****-shoot” I editorialize, of course,
In a state of future shock,
Resenting planned obsolescence,
Contemptuous of shrewd **** kids,
Wharton School sharpies,
Scoping out price curves & flowcharts,
Colluding at industry trade shows,
Powwows & confabs,
Releasing newer, more versatile
Models & spinoffs, according to a
Scheme planned three years in advance.

I salt the inevitable wounds of technology,
Taking my fight to the streets, realizing too late
My sole means of alerting the flash mob
Is by so-called smart phone,
*******!
Even the revolution has gone digital.
Poor Gil Scott Heron, dead last year at 62,
Poor Scott Heron, channeled into the
Harlem Renaissance by that loyal Chicago Defender,
Subscriber & reader, to wit: his Grandma,
A “Rainbow Conspiracy” co-conspirator,
Cooking ham hocks & collard greens for that
Mythical coalition of Young Lords,
Black Panthers & SDS.
Heron’s prognostication was wrong:
“The Revolution Will (In Fact) Be Televised!”
We’ve witnessed quite a bit of it,
Lately, prime time lately,
Live by satellite from once exotic places,
Places like Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Syria & Ferguson, MO.
I say “once exotic” because it’s hard to be
Visually intoxicated by images of screaming brown men
Sporting New York Yankee ball caps,
“Vote for Pedro” T-shirts and
$200.00 Air Jordan footwear.
Admittedly, the production values of
Revolutionary journalism have improved,
Action reported Hollywood-style,
Narrative arcs, scripted episodes,
Drive-by Potemkin villages & battle scenes,
30 or 60 or 90 day shooting schedules.
Spontaneous proletarian uprisings as Reality TV,
Riveting dramas,
High Nielsen ratings & $500K
Per minute corporate sponsors.
Let’s view the new fall line-up:
(1) “Mustafa Behaving Badly!”
(2) “Tunisian Tear Gas Talent!”
(3) “Gaddafi Gets Sodomized!”

I can be so tender with you, but then the monster emerges like guano out of a bats *** my precious and hes so hungry for your blood
He wants to take a razor to you . He loves your crying. He's excited by your sunken brooding face, sheet white flesh and sallow eyes.  
She gets down on her knees holding her self pert and brave for love's cruelty knowingly she is his play dough blood **** doll in a white death gown of weeping lacerations, his sweet blood blossom splashing
Her splayed pose tells him she's made to cut like red plush butter, her flesh his pull apart pastry, her bones his marrow.

He slowly works her down from merciless blood letting and bludgeoned raw piercing .
But the part that excites him the most  is when she sneers at him hissing, the blade to her throat as she lifts her head high exposing her throat without hesitation
His panicked hungry kisses and bites unceasing as she smiles and suffers knowing her twisted dream of living deaths dark labyrinth is near. Her **** gapes wet, leaking with blood and dark waters from being sodomized cruelly.  Her **** a drooling tortured swollen mouth, a river of blood
His bubble of poison in her, ruptures deep.
Both hyena feral ... He knows she's ready and holds her head down, a wooden block shoved between the back of her neck forcing her chin to jut out and exposing her swan throat .
He pulls out a box cutter
Is this what you need my darling ?
Is it you sweet **** ?
She smiles eagerly, eyes glaring, poised, noble, legs spread wide, back arched, soaking with crimson copper sweat
Watch me writhe you *******, unwind the little *****, she demands, grinning like a hell cat on drugs she holds fast ready for her departure to some crepuscular eternal afterlife

dark cupid witch
legs tied to throat
devil ***** twitch
******* in a mote
i've got the itch
feet scorched in rope
hot ******* *****
hells dark pope

oh dragon man
take my life
unwind me slow
i'm summer ripe
DO IT,,, DO IT... DO IT.... she screamed like a wind whipped howling tree in a blaze of flames.

Very well and as he slipped his long arterial sheath deep up in side her womb and stroked tenderly
He called oh my sweet darling pressing that blade deep through her soft buttery skin...Splitting arteries, sinews and flesh recklessly as she shuttered, her face a wild eyed Hiroshima convulsing in heaping waves, bloated with the filthy viscous red **** of Dragool
His blood a drug venomous, hallucinogenic and ecstatic

She spiraled dizzily into a primeval black watery abyss.
In a fury, he slit his **** wide, and engorged her raw shapeless mouth with his dreadful Scorpius elixir, door way to the dark life.
He raged at her, drink you sweet hell *****, **** pie, fat blister, and i make you my ***** consort for all eternity, loving you under black winged cape, sweet princess of death unpeeled.
Come he said, we are night storms of hell...We **** for love and you will die a thousand deaths my delicious blood bell I shall **** your soul away and turn you to the darkest midnight

vampiress *****
dark girl feeding
the sun is no more
loves the bleeding

Anwar Ibrahim
Convicted of ****** in 2008
Acquitted in 2012

The Court of Appeal overturned the acquittal
He is currently serving his sentence

An aide to Anwar
Said he was sodomized by Anwar
******, even if consensual
Is punishable by up to 20 years in Malaysia

Anwar responded the complaint was politically motivated

Support for Anwar grown stronger
His wife is battling his conviction

Some say that political rival Dr. Mahathir
Will recover from his decrease in popularity
And remain in control
Because he helped Malaysia through a though economic time

Although it seems as though Anwar is gaining support
From a majority of the Malaysian people

Human rights groups accused Malaysia's government of using
An anachronistic colonial era law that criminalizes
"Carnal ******* against the order of nature"
To persecute Anwar

Anwar leads a three-party opposition that has become
Increasingly popular in the predominantly Muslim nation

This is not just
Anwar has been wrongly accused
I will pray for his wife
And his supporters

Stay strong Anwar
You are an innocent man

I release you, my beautiful and terrible
fear. I release you. You were my beloved
and hated twin, but now, I don't know you
as myself. I release you with all the
pain I would know at the death of
my children.

You are not my blood anymore.

I give you back to the soldiers
who burned down my home, beheaded my children,
***** and sodomized my brothers and sisters.
I give you back to those who stole the
food from our plates when we were starving.

I release you, fear, because you hold
these scenes in front of me and I was born
with eyes that can never close.

I release you
I release you
I release you
I release you

I am not afraid to be angry.
I am not afraid to rejoice.
I am not afraid to be black.
I am not afraid to be white.
I am not afraid to be hungry.
I am not afraid to be full.
I am not afraid to be hated.
I am not afraid to be loved.

to be loved, to be loved, fear.

Oh, you have choked me, but I gave you the leash.
You have gutted me but I gave you the knife.
You have devoured me, but I laid myself across the fire.

I take myself back, fear.
You are not my shadow any longer.
I won't hold you in my hands.
You can't live in my eyes, my ears, my voice
my belly, or in my heart my heart
my heart my heart

But come here, fear
I am alive and you are so afraid of dying.

Once wars were fought with sticks and stones
to flog the flesh and batter bones
and conquer lands, defending thrones -
though gods provoke, not one atones.

The multitude (by hordes beset
with battle-ax or bayonet)
braved blades, dyed red and dripping wet -
the stains were wiped with no regret.

When raining blood, the teardrops spill,
enough to drown the daffodil
that withers in the mourning chill -
who was it said 'thou shalt not ****'?

The mad machine's now mechanized,
torment and torture legalized,
blind barbarism globalized
and wrath of demons sanitized.

Each rival's right (whichever side)
committing holy homicide
in names of gods diversified -
like Cain and Abel fratricide.

Above, a Drone that terrifies -
a button's pushed, a missile flies
to rip apart, to vaporize
(defending life, they fantasize).

Dismembered victims everywhere,
most, non-combatants, unaware -
a lone survivor, solitaire,
unfolding hands, too late for prayer.

Beneath the dust, a baby lies
with mouth agape, with bleeding eyes,
arrayed in death that money buys -
though warriors watch, none empathize.


The media's impervious -
in truth they're ever devious
for fear that reason's dangerous,
find every question treasonous.

Through eyes lit up like rosy sores,
embedded scribes report on wars
with tales to line the cuspidors -
the Fourth Estate? A herd of ******.

To paint the slaughter civilized,
objective news is sodomized -
when foreign streets smoke, pulverized,
the body counts are minimized.


Big Berthas boomed in days of yore
but now the tanks spit spikes of Thor
and mortar shells like raindrops pour
upon the lands of Nevermore.

The grumble of a hand grenade
is drowned in claps of cannonade -
assorted charnel chunks lie flayed
in battlefields where kids once played.

Somewhere a ******'s bullet flies,
somewhere a voiceless victim dies,
somewhere a famished orphan cries
while weapons warble lullabies.

The bunker busters burst the sides
of dwellings where mankind resides
and innocence in darkness hides -
the die is cast, but who decides?

Use cluster bombs and barrels too,
(crude critters in the wartime zoo),
to shred more souls than hitherto -
choose death en masse, avoid the queue!

The leaders lead (twelve steps behind),
enmeshed in intrigues, well enshrined -
yes, powers, business (so entwined)
pull twisted threads, ensnare mankind.


The mercenaries hack and maim
(god's creatures crippled, morally lame),
do beastly things that none will name -
well-paid for such, they feel no shame.

The ****** bombs and phosphorus
and ghastly weapons gaseous
are scattered widely, bounteous -
behold the desert wilderness!

Yes, Agent Orange burns slow and calm,
may leave behind a blazing palm
(or better yet, a molten mom
inside a hut)  in Vietnam.

And phosphorous… its flame so white,
exploding, falling through the night,
commemorates the Sacred Rite -
and babes in arms, thus blessed, ignite.

Cast chlorine, sarin or VX…
a lethal dose (or side effects
like blistered lungs) will serve to vex -
but death in war? No one objects…


Constructing A-bombs's arduous -
uranium, depleted thus,
can trash a tank with little fuss,
cause natal cankers, cancerous.

But doomsday warheads (dropped or thrown),
ignited, leave the sun outshone -
beneath a mass of melted stone
lies powdered ash, once flesh and bone.

When atoms split in bombs debased,
vast cities smolder, laid to waste,
a million sinless souls erased -
perhaps, one day, all life effaced.


You close your eyes but can't ignore
that body parts and bags of gore
are bursting through golgotha's door,
and strewn beyond the ocean's roar
like rotting fish that wash ashore.

Why can't we stop and end all war…


POSTSCRIPT
Regard the dreary death Arcade
of Armaments (a fruitful trade)
and tally up the millions made
by ghouls that raise a colonnade
of miles of missiles, weapons-grade,
in Armageddon's crazed parade,
and hide behind a masquerade
of lollypops and lemonade
while planning new an escapade
for sending armies to invade
and loot far oil lands, unafraid
of misery and grief parlayed
until our final days cascade
into a hell no more delayed
by happenstance or luck outplayed
that leaves society decayed,
bombarded with a fusillade
of lies upheld and truth betrayed
by pundits in the shifting shade,
and crises of the world clichéd
as sung in solemn serenade
by journalistic hacks that preyed
on wide-eyed folk in sham charade
that lulls to sleep with eyelids weighed
by tiny tears that disobeyed
to stay behind the barricade
and bathe the modern-day crusade
of war in cheers and accolade.

The bottom line? Just profits paid
for deadly sins that god forbade…

I was born in terrorism.
I grew up in earthquakes, tsunamis and rebels:
in shouting blond girls with red eyes and pixel
smiles.

I was born in blurred faces and mute
voices pulling at my
eyes until I dripped the clotted
tears of a thousand soldiers, or refugees,
or children.

I was atomized, crunched
into small seeds and scattered
across a desert field.
Someday a flower would grow there,
budded from the bones
of my being and  
flowered into a fiery,
empty marigold-- dripping
gold and embers across a thirsty desert,
where the shout
of the civilians was distant
enough to ignore.

I was sodomized,
conceived in the roar--
of the rumbling wave- crashing over-
pulsing through her thrashing cave.

I watched my flower whither
and blister with the deliberate count
down and the glare of the
floodlights-- dowsed in water and soil--
or some semblance of the two.  

I was born in the blood
of my mother and died in the
womb of the world.

From the skies came the howling screams
And the malevolent weather
Casting the hands of shadow over my world
The loveless giants and slack-jawed executioners
Laughing and drooling over the wicker baskets
Filled to the brim with severed heads
Faces frozen in the final moments of their
Demoralized longevity

While the others
The innocents and deceivers
Hung from the peeling trees
From their necks
Their bodies swaying with the
Winds of the howlers; the hoarders and rising dead
Ravens and winged monstrosities feasting on the
Available tissue of those left behind in the dusk
Of lesser men and greater demons

I wept and cowered like never before
In the swelling, audacious fields of fallen brothers and sisters
The air was moist
The earth was damp
I pulled the black garments of butchered priests
Over my coarse back
Covering my punishment from the eyes of God
And his Angels
His divine bystanders
And jealous endeavors

Draped in the cloth of the papists  
Drenched in the accumulated fluids of the slain
I wandered the wastelands with no name
No home
No family
No soul in the moment of sought mercy

The drying of blood and tears hardened the stain cloth
Against my healing body
Pulsing and throbbing over my senses
Turning me into something more
A vile and vengeful entity
Walking among the land of the dead
A ****** of my sanity

Through the cascading water dripping from the sky
Souls and ghosts of the battlefield
Clung to me, touching my feet and hands
My path was followed by the impaled
The disemboweled and the murdered
For the name of such clerical disambiguation
Promising to be absolved for the crimes against His name

I wandered from the true path

I came to the cliffs above and looked over the carnage
Of a 1000 warriors and people all sewn together
In the skin of the earth.

Riding a phantom steed over the trampled bodies
Clad in otherworldly armor
And sweltering chains
The Horsemen of War walked
Among the covet children of his wrath

Not even knowing if I still roam the land of the living
I proceeded down from the cliff
And approached the Rider of War.

His crimson helmet hid his face.
Horns protruded from his brow
He carried a blackened shield
and a fiery Sword crafted from the pits of Hell

Striking his sword into the mound of dead
Rivers of blood soaked into his blade
It fed off the butchered, the murdered
The mutilated, the skewered, the molested
The sodomized, the swallowed, the reaping
The cowards, the fools, the thieves
The liars, the transgressors, the headless
The victims, the prey, the engorged
The envious, the gluttonous, the wrathful
More and more of the blood, the souls and the mess
Collected and gathered into the sword
Feeding the beast, the instrument of war
Fueling another plague of sinister dismemberment
On a once green land of kings and sires.

I picked up a walking stick from the woods
Walking through a darkened world
Where another noble shall claim me
As his moniker of death
In service to **** more men
God’s children
Mother Earth’s children
Who rip a part of each other with metal and teeth
Against the palms of titans and angels

All gambling on our victory or defeat
Where lives and words are mere tokens
It is not our lamentations or penance that is counted

Can I bear the attrition of my own nightmares?

Clad in the shredded papal garments
Soaked in hardened blood

I shall roam and absolve.

Whoever is worthy
In the bleak war of man
And his End.

Finally a body lay restless fighting against all the odds.
Lying immobile in a bed of thorns and pains for four decades so long.

Where she should have been
And where did she reached today.
Once she was blessed with beauty and intelligence.
Blessed with a beautiful life to live upon.
Could she live that beautiful life, as it should have been?

Helplessly she watched,
when cruelty gripped her from all the sides,
which never gave even a chance to rise up,
Even though a new day began.

How many dreams she may have had?
She fought the pain till she breathed her last.
She lay motionless in a bed of shattered dreams,
With a pillow of bed ridden thoughts and tears.

Lying in a bed around decades of four
Hardly she may be two and half decades born
For years she lay crippled and helpless
fully dependent on others.
Indeed some blessings was there with her
Thankful to the people who stood for her, who loved her,
Took great care of her and travelled along with her till her end.

A fateful day took away all her dreams and twisted her life so cruelly.
From there her life hanged in between if and not, till she breathed her last.

Tears do we shed but also feel relieved,
Finally a soul was freed from all the prolonged pains and grief.

Till the last moment she fought bravely against all her pains
before sinking eyes to death!

May Her Soul Rest In Peace!

Hats off to all the nurses who went on adding
Drops of priceless contribution each day
as a part of their dedication to humanity.
In what better they could have shown!

PEACE!

All rights reserved by Geetha Jayakumar.

Note: (Courtesy: Google)
Aruna Shanbaug an Indian nurse, then aged 24years, from Karnataka, died after living in vegetative state for more than 42 years. She worked as a nurse at the King Edward Memorial Hospital (KEM) Mumbai. At the time of attack she was engaged to a doctor at the same hospital. On night of 27th November 1973, Sohanlal Walmiki, a sweeper at the same hospital, sexually assaulted Shanbaug. He attacked her while she was changing clothes in hospital basement. He choked her with dog chain and sodomized her. She was discovered with blood splattered only at next morning. Since then she lay in a vegetative state. Nurses from KEM hospital took entire care of her till her death in the same hospital. She was born on 1st June 1948. Finally she died from pneumonia on 18th May 2015 at the age of 66.

I'm only interesting
To men who want to discuss Kubrick
And **** after.
In a world where we expect our lovers
To pull themselves under the influence
And sodomized freely,
I expected mine to rise above
And he did.

Where does the world go when it’s swallowed into abyss,
sodomized selectively with its own abandoned sins,
self induced lies and illogics,
it can’t drag it’s eyes across the gritted mirror,
stained scattered across its frame,
It’s drag marks burrowed into its arms,
veins a scab of ache and infected grit,
the world festers,
it’s gaunt and slender,
a skinny ****,
eyes carved deep within the bowels of its skull,
coke left overs flecked at its bleeding nostrils.

Everything is a consentuated trip,
the world’s gone sour,
look at her,
used and hollow,
thighs voluptuous,
yet bruised so tender beneath the surface,
if you could strip her skin rye and clean
to see the muscle tendons beneath
then you’d find hand prints scattered across her,
down through her curves,
violating and probing deep inside her,
no place the wicked haven’t been on and inside her.

Fingers of spider and the unnerving maggots that crawl beneath,
she scatters the buck shot shavings
abound the blood screened room of bodies and fiendish men long lost and bullet beaten,  
the shot gun barrel tokes a puff of gunpowder exhaust as she swings it levered spewing
it’s shrapnel with laughter,
and her grin,
the world’s broken smile,
disease ridden and staunched,
it burns ember as the bodies stain the hotel carpet,
stain over stain,
sin feasting on sin.

World, where does it end?
World, where?
World, will it ever end?

World, death doesn’t take a day off.

Kaleidoscopic holdings drawn on from tumbling affairs forge indignant beliefs in the minds of those trapped in the spinning, weightless meanderings of an archaic and broken system designed with the sole intention of scattering and misinterpreting the grandest illusions life has to offer.

Voided of emotion, and self-respect, the paces of lost clergymen slow, as the prospect of death, and consequential eternal life, grow heavy on the soul, burdening the individual with corruptive notions of value and worth, crippling and manipulating the concept of existence until it becomes no more than a sacrificial placeholder for faith and faith alone.

…In the beginning, man created god, and what an awful error in judgment that proved itself to be…

Poisonous words in the form of prayer, spew forth from the mouths of anointed men, selected for their passive obedience, displayed in the wake of advancement, convoluting and clouding the acceptance of the self, promoting, and proclaiming the right to act as gate keeper to the doors of oblivion, as though they possess some unknown measure of good and evil, omnipotent in the face of the laws of man.

A charitable act of aid comes at the cost of the recipients soul, as churches buy up rights for those deemed morally conceited, holding no one, but a forgotten creator, to blame for the disgraces and disappointments projected onto man, by man himself, only to register, very briefly, for the opportunity to promote salvation, and its slipping worth, all in the hopes that such extrapolated thought may produce a golden tickets of sorts, granting one passage to the holy land, where one can remain unbothered by the wandering souls of unbaptized infants.

Poking holes in contraceptive thoughts, using pin sized ****** extracted from the backside of small boys, prodded and sodomized by glorified rapists who mask horrendous deeds in the guise of holy writ, condemning the act of gratification through the means of oneself, simply with the intent of diminishing an individuals potential in finding some form of earthbound nirvana, believing that such an experience could cloud and corrupt man’s view of god.

For a system designed with the intent of salvation, it becomes confusing, and appears at odds with the message, when most only see perpetual damnation, banning bummers in an act of spite, seeking out wars for the sake of a territorial fight, miles Christi, a paradox it seems, one stripped from Walt Disney’s bigoted dreams…

Ephesians 6:14-17New International Version (NIV): 14:Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15: and with your feet fitted the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16: In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17: Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the spirit, which is the word of God.

Dogs howling eulogies, desperate
     To late-night-early-morning lovers shot dead dead dead in the streets
      Sunset to sunrise hit the pavement running over with blood
I am wrapping paper holocaust, strung out,
     Livid in lost motion
      Gypsy caravan euthanasia breaking news bulletin
Losing teeth losing sleep
     All shades of bitter gray
      Color chalk-outline landscapes
        But the sky held fast heretical blue
Streaked & stabbed & sodomized
Satellites, searching searching seaching
    It's a wash, a cheap trick of the light
    Sidelong glance cast nervously over the shoulder
       Immigrant dream of bygone peace
Boulder pushed eternally up a hill
    Sisyphus for the low-life lowest common denominator
While ****** shook shook shook her head
    She only likes the men with bombs
South of the border north of Hell
   Spanish gold dust shot up winding black black black roads to frantic nervous system
  El rey esta vacia, scrawled slipshod black ink under the overpass
  You can't see it without some kind of death wish

Shall I be your kin?
Void of choice ‘for
Thou are chosen
Love does not befit me
For I am only fifteen
And you, man of god,
Is six-hundred-and-sixty-si..
Nay Fifty

Christened and praised
Your lessons be paced
Whips when enraged
Your holy spirit I *******

Father, Does the feather features of my upper lip
Besiege you?
Does the pale hair
On my male chest
Deceive you?
I do not see you as
An equal
I see you as evil
My pubescent sense
Does not allow me to
Laugh out loudly at the irony
This is not my mouth, see
I cannot speak
I am not me
I am sodomized

Wistful I wish you
Would become ******
Wish my lips grew fanged
If my jaws could dismember
I’d pull you bare with bound wrist through
The bank

Pitiful
my knife will kiss you,
I thank you for every crystal
From your bleeding hands
This will do
This I will remember


Lord, why have you left him?
I thought a life in the lords light
Was to the betterment of man
And mankind
Not the remembrance of
The sins of bitter men
Guide them

O, Lord
When Chastity turns nasty
Do thou turn the other cheek?
Or chastise and despise the animosity?
Dozily
Lord, why do you test me?
Lord, have you left me?

He has come in again but
The doors open suddenly
As I look back in awe
A light shines in
A shock settles
A shadow in the door
Pleasant perfumes meddle
With the wretched room
A sense of hope

A sense of security embezzled
More abuse of my vessel
A second coming
Confronting
A poor response from the Lord
I turn my other cheeks
Raise my chin
I detest a morning sun
Come

Do what thou wilt
A rule we're taught
A rule that carries us
Please, ignore the nosebleed
Just proceed and do not worry
We're among the elite, dead inside
And we'll do anything, anything at all
To feel complete
After all, who cares who we hurt
If it fills our needs

Prayers sent out
Never answered
Where's your savior?
He got sodomized, victimized
Then hung himself
What a surprise

Yahweh hanging from a tree? hurray!
Let's have a grand party and sacrifice the sheep
We'll dance, laugh, sing, and watch as they bleed
The dark is a curse we all have, a curse we all need
So let us rejoice, embrace the sensation
And awaken the beast tonight
That'll surely make our father happy.

in patient
impatient
silence shuttering sodomized scars
seeing red reluctantly

in utter confusion
the syncopated sycophants
soliloquize about sunset and sunrise
god is a verb she mutters
and they turn their heads
stunned to see who could speak such a daring statement
sonorous and sodomized by sunrises spent in sullen longing
stolen anguish shuddered upon the pavement’s dismemberment
I dare give that girl a kiss
who speaks volumes in her silence
smelts golden apples in her furnace
and burns the papyrus into dust
this dirt is holy like a paycheck
swollen like an irishman’s neck
she shrugs and releases her arm
it is cast from the aperture of the sun
a vision so swift its gone before you even notice her

There is ONE.
A girl cries herself to sleep after her boyfriend of 3 months tries to get up her skirt and then tells her she's not pretty when she denies him.

There are TWO.
A boy cuts his wrists after his girlfriend of 8 months leaves him because he won't sleep with her. He's 13. She's 12.

There are THREE.
A young woman kills herself after people tell her that her **** was her fault because she was impaired. It was just a fun night out with the girls to celebrate getting their Masters Degrees.

There are FOUR.
A young college male drowns himself in pills after being beaten and sodomized by straight males on his daily walk home from work because, "that's all **** are good for and we know you like it."

There are THOUSANDS MORE
A child that stops speaking because a family friend starts touching inappropriately and taking pictures.
Adults that carry weapons they aren't trained to use because others catcall them or follow them home.
A woman that takes a boxing class, not because she loves to box, but because her ex boyfriend beat her so bad she nearly died.
The mother that can't let her kids outside because strangers are no joke.
The middle school girl that snuck out of the house in a mini-skirt that never made it home.


"Every 109 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted.
And every 8 minutes, that victim is a child. Meanwhile, only 6 out of every 1,000 perpetrators will end up in prison." RAINN

Check out https://www.rainn.org/statistics

The spire rises on high
To humbly hug heavens holy white sky
And from the sacred gothic cathedral
Bells ring with symphonic sanctimony-
The sweet angelic instrumental harmony  
And you feel the presence of descent God from your homes
You smell the inviolate incenses of the Saints from your louvers  
The frankincense fragrances of the Blessed from your windows beckon
And you aspire your children to serve in the church as your neighbours
Good examples they will always be to the civilized society

Time to time alone you send her and him to them
To selflessly serve Mother Church to earn endless blessings
And obediently ****** leaves as per commandments
“Obey your Parents for your days on earth to be multiplied;
Serve the Lord your God unreservedly-with all your all!”
In church the child spends her entire free time
In church ****** serves innocently-restlessly
In church the child does his-her all to avoid any blame or blemish
In church ****** endears all to avoid any bad reputation  
After all what ill can befall you if in the House of the Lord-the Psalm says:
‘Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life!’

Dear innocent child, with a heart harmlessly clean
Does it know the monster is the wolf in sheep’s skin?
The perpetrator, is the priest-the sheep’s sheer shepherd
It is he who feeds on the fattened flocks of his Master’s fields
Unsuspecting, unknowingly he gets closer with him,
The priest, the sacred of peoples modest mediator
It is an old age adage in faithful ways of thinking:
‘Whoever gets closer to a pastor earns firsthand priority
To touch and share in his consecrated ointments!’

O my child, to darker places he is-she is sent
To collect vestments, ointments and sacraments
And quickly without resistance or hesitance
****** splints, timely and servitude is an altar’s teaching
Behind, swift too, the sinister minister-monster fast follows
And in darkness shush! He touches him-he touches her holy places
In return he/she is hushed with gifts of craved church’s wines and wafers

Confused-is this pastor N… really, or am I dreaming
Before long the child goes into silent phobia and depression
To who does he tell of the dark tales behind altars, vestry and sacristy
The man behind the Eucharist, the revered man of the church!
The blessed bass behind the mic, deeply unleashing
The Holy Ghost: “Bwana asifiwe, pokea Roho!”
To the convinced convicts-faithful brethrens is a satan, a monster
Is he who really touched and touches her in the wrong places?
It is he who forced into his baby’s brittle red bottoms
It is him who stole, vilely robbed his-her virginity and virtues

Who will listen to his/her sad story?
And it is the mothers-parents blame-consumerism connive
They are liars to tarnish the church’s good name
And when he says and cries and refuses to attend the Sundays services
The mother scolds him with felines’ violence
‘I am not raising pagans in my house,
It is either you go or go to serve the church!
Am I clearly heard and understood?’
O poor child, silent suffers this sacred soul!

With rigid society ready to absolve the ****** priest
With the parish ready to excommunicate the fighting family
With the church-Christ’s body-willing to go any extra mile
To save its priest and salvage its worldly rotting name
The state eager to close one eye and let the church rule
After all it is they that say-‘the church will outlast everything!’
The church is always innocent it can never wrong its attendants and congregants

Quickly the ******* priest is shuffled and reshuffled in all earth’s parishes
And the innocence stolen child is left alone to find its answers-
To sad solve and resolve its mysteries-objections, rejections and excommunications:
‘Who is God-who really is He and who are His consecrated men
And where was He while we were being ***** and molested
By the saints we thought sacredly serves in his vast fields!?”  
O *****! O sodomized! Sacred sufferings!

© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.

http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/asia/catholic-priest-****-15-year-old-girl-kerala-india-mathew-vadakka­cheril-consumerism-temptations-***-a7613406.html?cmpid=facebook-p­ost

Please know if you have been in my life this is for you

This is for my mom who was always judgmental
Who was unsympathetic
Who on multiple occasions threatened my life if I cut myself
Because that totally made sense

This is for my father
For moving in and out of my life
More often than my taste in music changes
Who always says he wants to start fresh
Unaware you cannot erase the past
Or fill in the blank places in my memory when you weren't there

This is for cancer
For stealing my first best friend at seven
And everyone around me expecting me to know how to handle it

This is for my first love
Who came into my life at a mere eleven
You too moved in and out of my life
You have broken  me infinite times
You have made me feel unloved and alone
Even when you were suppose to at least be a friend
You can't seem to understand that you
Are my first love and as such I will never stop loving you
You have used me before and even that couldn't sever it
I wonder when you proposed at fifteen if you loved me
I mean it's clear who loved who most in the end isn't it

This is for the man who sodomized me at thirteen
You were probably in your 30's
Didn't speak much English
But you knew I was young
Did you know my mother called me a ***** after?

This is for the man who stole my virginity at fourteen
Who was at least ten years older than me
You kissed me one day
Invited me in the next
Promised you wouldn't take off your shorts if I didn't take off mine
And instead took off both of ours

This is for the elementary teacher who saw him kissing me
And instead of stopping it closed her window

This is for my depression and anxiety
That started at twelve and still hasn't ended at twenty
The cuts never scarred me and that always upset me

This is for the two boys who used my depression as a gateway
To use my body
Who ****** me at fourteen
Who pressured me until I gave in
Who wouldn't leave my house until they finished

This is for me
For hating myself so much I'd let anyone use me back then

This is for my first high school boyfriend
Who forced his hand down my pants after I ended it
And who I had to crawl away from so he would stop

This is for my " best friend" and her boyfriend
Who at sixteen brought me to their place to study
And instead held me down together
So that he could **** me
And then pretend like nothing ever happened
It was not easy telling my first love about that
We were dating so he assumed I was confessing to cheating
Even when I clearly said it was **** to the couple
My love went out and got a ******* from a ******* as revenge
He didn't tell me for almost a year

This is for my first friend with benefits
Who called me "baby, sugarplum, princess"
Who ****** me once a week
Who texted me every moment of everyday
Who made me feel special and cared for
Who made me want him
But suddenly got a girlfriend
Not that it stopped him from sending me pictures
Or telling me how he wants to touch me

This is for any man who seemed interested
****** me or used me in another way
And then never spoke to me again

This is for the guy who desperately wanted to date me at nineteen
I can forgive you for the rancid way you smelled
And I can forgive the fact that you didn't close the door
Whenever you used the bathroom
Or that you made me smell like cigarettes
But I can't forgive the fact that you ignored me
When I said no and stop and cried as you ***** me
And I will never forget the aggressive growl you let out

This is for my second and last friend with benefits
You wouldn't kiss me or touch me
Just take from me
I was an object to you
You wanted to date me but I knew the type of man you were
Infamous for being a player
And just two months ago when you assaulted me
Moments before your new girlfriend showed up
You laughed at me and said you were just playing
But being held by my neck and grabbed at
While saying no and stop didn't feel like a joke to me
I wanted to tell her but someone said you broke up
And when I finally had the courage to say something
Everyone, including my best friend yelled at me

This is for the guy who was my best friend
Who had claimed to like me for nearly five years
And when I'm finally ready to give him a chance
He uses me and tells me he still has a girlfriend
After asking me out just the day before

This is for the loneliness that is setting in

This is for my best friend who yelled at me for waiting
Who complained to me last night about being sad
When she has everything I have ever wanted
She has the fiance, is pregnant, and has a career in a field she loves
But sometimes even the world isn't good enough

This is for all of my dreams
I was three when I started wanting to find love
I was ten when I started wanting motherhood
I was eleven when I wanted to work with animals
I was eighteen when I felt like I lost my soulmate
I was seventeen when the doctors said I might not be a mom
I was nineteen when anxiety and depression sent me running
From every classroom in tears and wanting to die.

This is for you so you know when I cry
It's because of all of this
It's because everyone I have ever counted on
Everyone who should of been there hasn't
It is because I have been broken more ways than I can count
And it is a miracle I am alive
Because for years I swore to end it all at eighteen
Here I am an unhappy twenty though
Still waiting for it to "get better".

I look upon you with vengeance
with blood lust in my veins
we used to have an alliance
now all I see is bloodstains
and pieces of what used to be

My hatred for you all
caused your brutal deaths
the blood on the white satin sheet
caused by my self-indulgence
to feast upon flesh and fresh meat

If it wasn't for the chain saw
I would have killed you with my sharp teeth
as you cowered and crawled
it just amplified my psychopathic rage

You father I loved our brawl
You would ***** anyone for a quick dollar
If it was't for sis and mother
i would have sodomized you and spit in your face
like you would me.

Oh, my dear mother you of all people should know not to run
adrenaline pumping
heart thumping
blood coagulating

I strangled you mother
no remorse found
as you stared into those black glassy eyes
what used to be brown
now stone cold as ice
blacker than the void of space.

After mother and father were dead
it was off with brothers head
for little sis well she was chopped up into little pieces

For this, is the Death Toll!!!

I've been criticized, ostracized, demonized, desensitized, scrutinized, chastised,  analyzed, generalized, politically sodomized, inspected, disected, directed, detected, deflected
all for acquiring and dispersing
truth
the only thing I haven't been
is plagiarized

Simpletons sprawl across the earth benumbed by quidnuncs without substance
They prattle indiscriminately amongst their hebetude and find travesties of proper justice
Inching along their snail mice paths they get ensnared by the cheese of Grapes and Wrath
Desiccated by the vainglory of smallminded insularity they chase the definitive epitaph
A grave dug by those that conflate laziness with profligate indecency cheap is their limited math
They foist expectation and I surpass standards unsung without a winsome glib tongue
But they expect a mountain of promiscuity invariably won
Their availability heuristic is patently dumb and insensate
Because few are the courtships among the dross of obscurity that yield infinite weight
I will fence with the gainsay of a thousand fools drooling over degradation and the epitomized tool
I will vanquish there sodomized and bowdlerized histories away from the foundering traipse of coruscating ghouls
For many are those within my rapprochement and many are the victories that I win
But unheralded close encounters of the magnetic north of womankind are buried by lies and purblind perspectives
They find elation in schadenfreude clothed with the most pyrrhic pride that ever existed
A pride of dumbfounded idiots reveling in perdition and clamoring for malcontent sedition
Against the inviolable traits of respectable personage and properly worn decorum, the latest edition
I will never capitulate to phantom skeletons wanting death and dishonor
Because my compass points to a broadened life of wife, husband and father
The groveling idiots of liberalism without bounty and meretricious egalitarianism gloat over lurid degradation
They besiege the tranquility of a levelheaded space and sabotage the atmosphere with disgrace and malevolent expectation
Then they expect me to vanquish specious caricature with their obstinate immature character
They are a battalion of morons waging war against innocence, chatterboxes of nuisance acting as impetuous barrister
I always get close, but never far enough to debunk their thoughtlessness and perjury against common sense
If I leer only at women, how the **** can I be on the ******* fence
Schadenfreude is common to mice that run the rat race at every imaginable price
And that is the extent of their consciousness, they infest the vogue with busybody nonsense and have false awakenings all the time in less virtue than vice
They think it is their obligation to dredge the sunk costs of life and obtrude with crime after crime against decency and peace of mind
Crab people likely have a venereal disease that pollutes them with a false solidarity for grime, lice and yeast of sour bread they easily find
They censor the easiest avenues to happiness and then put the burden of proof on me to find the convoluted route through the discord of naysayer cacophony and tainted atmosphere to find head, tail and *****
So I politely offer a challenge to the obstinate hordes that gloat for rebarbative squalor incongruent with inner peace and outer harmony… stop being so ******* pushy
Put a leash on your rabid dogs as you waft through life clouded by the fog of congenital ignorance and predatory instinct
Many are animals that only escaped extinction as ravenous predators incapable of the chivalry of the winsome wit and think
I have contentment in my life, talent runs through my veins, I have good posture and I ooze enthusiasm even when infamy haunts my many days so fatuously profaned
But contemptible is the nosy know-nothing that makes it sport to ignore profuse signs of success to invariably defame
The brunt of denial is upon the accuser who conflates conditional reticence with complete incontinence of a life inclemently tamed
I win at life almost all of the time, I court women often and come close enough to prove I’m fine
It is your lurid, fatuous and conceited imagination refracted through the decadence of Astroturf fascinations with contemptible ****** aberration that is completely asinine

(Don't Comment on this Poem)

Tired of my mind killin me from the inside
I don't wanna live don't wanna die so I guess I've
Gotta make a compromise to get me through
Lobotomized and sodomized, a cauterized wound
I'm infatuated with the things that ****
I just can't decide upon the red or blue pill
My afflictions give me everything I need
Deny the accusations that I'm driven by my greed

I don't wanna **** but I appreciate homicide as an art
I don't even know what I stand for
I can't even find a place to start
I don't wanna live, but I can't think of any way I'd like to die
So I guess I've gotta compromise
Create another wound to cauterize

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪
Wayne Dyer praised Margaret ****** who wrote: "We should hire three or four colored ministers, preferably with social-service backgrounds, and with engaging personalities. The most successful educational approach to the ***** is through a religious appeal. We don't want the word to go out that we want to exterminate the ***** population, and the minister is the man who can straighten out that idea if it ever occurs to any of their more rebellious members." – Margaret ******'s December 19, 1939 letter to Dr. Clarence Gamble, 255 Adams Street, Milton, Massachusetts. Original source: Sophia Smith Collection, Smith College, North Hampton, Massachusetts. Also described in Linda Gordon's "Woman's Body, Woman's Right: A Social History of Birth Control in America," New York: Grossman Publishers, 1976.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪
Wayne Dyer praised Maya Angelou. Maya Angelou wrote of being a *******, a ******* madam, a communist and a lesbian. She hustled for racist/State eugenicist Margaret ******'s Planned Parenthood. Margaret ****** referred to negroes as human weeds. Planned Parenthood kills 1,400 unborn negroes daily. Maya Angelou supported the South African husband/wife terrorist team of Nelson & Winnie Mandela.

✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪
Dyer taught Alfred Kinsey's sexology, the same Kinsey who, with & his merry band of pedophiles & pederasts (funded by the Rockefeller Foundation), manually & ****** brought to "******" kids as young as 2 months old. Surely, ****** babies is bad but not really so bad as it has provided priceless insight into understanding the psychology of infants and their ****** responses when reamed, digitally sodomized & ****** fellated by men. The crapped-out charlatan Wayne Dyer was an amoral beast. People who eulogize this blood-lusting crackpot should bow their balding, bleached heads in shame. By the end, at the time of the end, in ending times, all will be revealed.
✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪
Wayne Dyer praised Nelson Mandela. THE MAJORITY OF NELSON MANDELA'S & THE A.N.C.'S VICTIMS WERE ORDINARY CITIZENS AS NELSON MANDELA'S A.N.C. TARGETED PLACES WHERE FAMILIES WERE SURE TO BE:
☒ 1981 -- 2 car bombs at Durban showrooms
☒ 1983 -- Church Street Bomb (killed 19, wounded 217)
☒ 1984 -- Durban car bomb (killed 5, wounded 27)
☒ 1985-1987 -- At least 150 landmines on farm roads (killed 125)
☒ 1985 -- Amanzimtoti Sanlam shopping centre bomb Dec 23 (killed 2 white women and 3 white children)
☒ 1986 -- Magoo's Bar bomb (killed 3, wounded 69)
☒ 1986 -- Newcastle Court bomb (wounded 24)
☒ 1987 -- Johannesburg Court bomb (killed 3, wounded 10)
☒ 1987 -- Wits command centre car bomb (killed 1, wounded 68)
☒ 1988 -- Johannesburg video arcade (killed 1 unborn baby, wounded 10)
☒ 1988 -- Roodepoort bank bomb (killed 4, wounded 18)
☒ 1988 -- Pretoria Police housing unit, 2 bombs (wounded 3)
☒ 1988 -- Magistrate's Court bomb (killed 3)
☒ 1988 -- Benoni Wimpy Bar bomb (killed 1, wounded 56)
☒ 1988 -- Witbank shopping centre bomb (killed 2, wounded 42)
☒ 1988 -- Ellis Park Rugby Stadium car bomb (killed 2, wounded 37)
✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪✪