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Laurie Fisher Dec 2011
Sometimes it builds
To a degree intolerable
Some of it, it can be untraceable
The source unknown
Of the aching within
Impenetrable thoughts
Seeking a foundation

Strain comes out
In various ways
From your head to your toes
It will divulge

Aching in the head
Eyes flooded with blood
Tension of the mind
The body too
Tapping of the fingers
Shaking of the leg
It all soon, gives it away
ERS Dec 2018
I'm hyper and happy with energy to spare
Fast speech, racing mind
I spread love everywhere
A giant smile is all I bare until
a certain darkness
fills the air

You feel rampant with no good rage
Trapped in your sorrows
like a rusted shut cage
You remind yourself you're not crazy
Sometimes you're really happy
or just tired
and lazy

Sometimes you lose feeling in your fingers and toes
Like you're in the basement of a coroner
raw and exposed
Other times, you're on a hamster wheel
sweating and racing
Feeling your skin turn
rubber and chafing

I have no control over my emotions and mood
And, yes, I know that
that's no excuse
I come off strong with my opinions and personality
Which many think is wonderful or an abnormality

I'm seen in different lights
because I don't know which one to stand in
I'm only myself in my writing
and that's the happiest I've been

Pen and paper give me the control
my chemical imbalance never has
I can feel calm and genuine and less of a spazz

I'm slowly accepting
my past
mistakes
and reality
Mental illness is stigmatized
But we need to face our morality

Hell!
Carrie Fisher was bipolar though
we didn't talk about it in that era
If she was bipolar then
I'm just like Princess Leia
Brent Kincaid Nov 2015
I was raised on ridicule
Scorn and blaming.
Belittling laughter
Jokes and shaming.
Though nobody who knew
Seems to doubt it
They sure as hell wish I
Would shut up about it.

That’s just the way it is today.
Abused children, it seems
Upset people; therefore they
Are best not heard, just seen.

Four Eyes, Toothpick and Brat
These are a few of the names.
You might as well call them freaks
And creeps. It amounts to the same.
Screwup, ******, fumblefingers,
Bones, Spazz and Stumblebum.
Pantywaist, wussy, ditz and then
Plenty more where those came from.

From birth to death it seems
Sometimes, throughout all of life
Some people just don’t care
That scorn can cut like a knife.

It makes people question
Every move they might make
When somebody keeps on
Calling them things like flake.
The condemnation and rebuke
Aren’t covered up by the laughter.
People should question deeply
The effect they think they are after.

So cut the kids a break
It won’t turn out wrong
And the ridicule of a child
Can last their whole life long.
Mateuš Conrad May 2020
it's...
listening to metric - clone (2012)...
sipping a whiskey...
pretending to smoke a cigarette
with an unlit cigarette in hand...
the feel and the texture...
the scent of unlit tobacco,...

and then it's... contemplating...
british and "british"...
              and the caves... and... speaking
a language lacerated...
loan words...
   music of corvus corax... katrinka...
i would never...
listening to such music...
attire myself as: bwitish...
technicalities...
              the prefix will do...
                 anglo-slav...
                         like... those anglo-saxons...
but less specific...
because: you'd have to also call them:
   anglo-pseudo-germans...
          or quasi...
                        i'm not being
specific either... an anglo-slav i am...
a patchwork of guesses...
         serb? croat? slovenian?
       the yugoslav? ukranian?
           russian? czech? slovak?
                    i've just been listening to
some videos of nostalgia...
from the natives circa 1978 and...
nik nak paddy... old man... something...

to associated with the british...
to be british...
  do you suppose... there's a turk these days...
that would associate himself
as... an ottoman?
         i wonder...
         maybe the concept of empire being...
domino... connected by land...
and not scattered like the greek diaspora /
empire...

           the empire of roman?
weird... isn't it? to be surrounding a massive
salt pond...
            while the constant chance of having
your back turned...
seemingly protecting this salt pond...
yes... sea...

- i found the stare of love at first today:
but i was numb to it...
deer eyes of an indian girl -
darkened / riddled by the equator...
while i was... picking three kings of chillies...
some fresh coriander...
cumin powder... kashmiri powder...
and black cumin seeds...

    - i saw eyes and i also saw two
nuggets of charcaol...
   my knees left nothing of the sort of iritation
fo drop everything and swim
against the current like a salmon...

- come mid-thirties and...
   i'm starting to feel comfortable...
with the solo-project... the dodo-project...
looking for signs of: waking up
to what could have been an abortion...
or a genocide into a tissue, flushed down
the toilet: the horror of being circumcised...
without jewish or muslim...
social structures...
         it could be much worse... i could have
been circumcised...
i could have been born with
both a ****** and a strap-on *****:
seeking the ****** st. of tic-tac-toe and
a skipping rope of:
  that i have kissed a man...
that i have gorged on a *******'s
****** like a wrath and love of god...
that suckling to the **** didn't
pose a problem: got choc tinged teeth
and bitter-corn in between...
oh i'm pretty sure she wasn't in love
with me:
             a wry smile while i didn't
speak the "proper" native...

mongrel soul retaining a weird question
about who's who and who's a token
postcard on loan from...
lost from former forged empires...

on my way back home...
   i was... once upon a time...
that sort of guy... loitering... waiting...
making waiting... a ritual...
worth smoking a cigarette...
patience is a religion that's not invested
in peace to all: for all...
     first comes first...

nearing the magic number 35...
it's very sensible of me to state:
it's quiet impossible for me to share a bed...
with anything or anyone except
my shadow...
considering how when i expose
my shadow to sunlight...
mindless shadow pretends to have
eyes... when it crawls into my head
at night: when i sleep...
and tells the alternative story of
the day...

    to be wedded and with children...
one would most certainly need to be coupled
with prospects in one's early 20s...
after the mid-20s... well...
the boat's about to sail...
the solo- / dodo-project is...
  a bit like... with writing being concerned...
one's hope for a career in...
    a chemistry lab...
or the selfless-acts of hippocrates' students...

all very well to love children...
but... ******* them up...
never really becoming that...
nobel prize winning psychologists
with a break-through...
when the whittle cherbus... gremlins...
kritters arrive...
an over-zealous cat meowing / moaning
about curfew is one of those spin-offs
of madness...
talk to me about a babe crying...

- and yes... some people shouldn't drink...
their genetic disposition: ah ah...
their individual metabolism...
they never conjure up the amphetamine
(metaphor) ***** from the lullaby
zombied-out death-cult of sedation...
- and these same people shouldn't pick
up smoking a ritual tobacco stick...
even i venture to call it:
a bullet to the head...

  how is it... to become... selfless?
when... one... has become...
self-realized... past the groan of:
the facts... aged 25 and your brain
should stop... window-shopping
function suffixes... no?

i had an idea for a glove...
with a rubber-band...
to... restrict... the natural laziness
of the hand when walking...
but because i drink and only jargon
poor poetics...
in rage i ripped the rubberband
off my arm... lost to history:
lost to the void...
oh i know how that it feels...
would it have been of use...
i guess not...
     a bright idea in a bucket
of maggots and maggot ****...
is... about as much worth as...
a screwdriver is to a forest of nails...
chisel... n'est ce pas...
i was... asking: grit teeth...
soul... clenching... bizarre objects
of gradations of sharpening...
the obvious square-headed axe...
pulp...
      a whole rainbow of objects...
perhaps a scalpel is the last resort...

i smile because: i've turned angry into
funny...
who doesn't have the monopoly on violence:
well... i also do not have the monopoly
on c.c.t.v. -
   little help from coming from
under the iron curtain...
the local seem to be... all ah...
oh so detached... missing las vegas cousins
and...
if i could only allow you...
to allow myself... to fathom...
the maldives of my mind...
a drag of a cigarette... a bottle of whiskey
35cl... you start the bets...
who's about to...
      find prison in solipsism...
solipsism as a mental illness...
as an altruism: as a atheism as a...
genius maddy: spezial neds: youz callz
'em... quivering folk?
what'z that phra-phra-puccino?
    autist-spec:   ah yes! those rare breeds!
spazz-taculars!
i was one misunderstood for one of them...
i took the insult to the grave...
well... i took it to her grave...
by the god of the hebrews and by the mythology
of cain... from siberia came the huns...
the turks... the slavs and the mongols...
only germans ever came from
       afri-*******-ah-hahaha!
they skipped the toll of sanskrit:
the birth of writing...
why? it became complicated...
when beijing was founded...
but sure... a replica tux of skeleton came out
out... fringe kenya and landed in: old delhi...
as many consonants if not more:
down to the core: with the spices...
the unfortunate indians of north
america...
the somewhat fortunate indians
of: south america...
brazil: post-racial mecca...
argentinian beef and...
                             myths of nazis
living to old age...
                 no... oh no... i will not die...
first comes ol' lizzie then comes
my sodden sorry ***...
envelope of a missing postage stamp
of a world: we've been to the moon...
via new york and the leviathan london...
where's afghanistan cave fighting...
the pashtun women of... glorifying
copper and cinnamon / cumin and coriander
ash... and beauty...
how doesn't it sound:
the day the music died:
we sang dirges in the dark...
                 bye bye: may-pole luck with
christ: the advent of...
the crucifix is hanging... ornament piece...
but the... iron maiden isn't...
           it's enough to identify a god...
it's quiet another matter...
to torture him... and... sorry...
but if i were to be crucified...
   sooner me and the comfort of hands...
outstretched... than... hands-tied...
pushed onto a pole: to impale...
lost advent of etymology: slav...
and the lost "e" of paul...
to remind... the crucifix... well...
            to impale...
                       looks like...
the crucifix is missing limbs... it would take...
days... the arms that would be
flapping... agitating an imitation
of a swan breaking into flight...
the two lungs... imitating drowning...
while hanging... extended...
     to crucify... hardly: the affair of...
being... impaled...
perhaps joking: slav(e) gave the clue...
germans: whether orthodox
anglo-ßaß - celtic mingling...
    germs... who's eating what... "leftover"
etymological clues...
we can play this game... forever...
it's hardly the hebrew the original:
indu- prefix of... roaming... or not...
                      
guise them up as the exodus as the fomer
lands of Jagiełło...
the battle of Hastings: blip...
             who am i... but at least in england...
i can speak the language
like some conrad of masovia:
readied to sell the "lesser creatures"
for the... encouraged...
integration to the *****: kneel...
of the baltic pruß...
who weren't... coddled...
the welsh weren't coddled...
they were "told" to... brighten their
day to day... expand...
fathom the easily accessed seas:
expand...
who owned the monopoly of
the baltic sea: as if it were
the bosphorus...
beside... the danes?
expansion of: ****** come together
with a ******: breathing
h. p. lovecraftian h'america...
loot maine and call it... start:
bittersweet apartheid...
not me: i'm still half of Vilno...
and the most remote aspect of L'viv...
no... crusader songs... no crusades: per se!

i used to play video games...
i became... more fascinated
with the romance of: a lost year...
that the school re(a)d... it wasn't in any
fathom of an iota of red:
or a synonym in burgundy:
for the worth of the burgundians:
leftovers of the angevins...
that richard the lionheart
found a love for england...
the island... an abhorring testimony
of youth and no solance...
that old age never found him:
akin to: the needle never found
the mystery of the haystack...

i am not! lithuanian!
common practice of exodus polacks...
paul-lacking:
slav and "e" dribbling...
      like the germanic peoples:
who aren't lingua franca revisions...

    ⰏⰑⰣ     ⰔⰑⰂⰑ...

lingering "blame"... darwinism via
the default...
the monkey skeleton left africa...
arrived in india.. left a schism...
some went to хины
             some went to:         чeнa..

   anglican via: the great mother siberia...
is a mother...
beside the zenith advent of: mother...
muffer: af-af-rye-c'ah'cah!
******* twins to mind the rhodes!

the skeleton left africa...
yes...
   but... the hindu morphed the genesis...
a second time... into writing...
what... phonetic encoding...
beside... the primodial...
   hieroglyphics... from africa... would have...
ever... arrived at our...
emoji internet advent... door-step of
extending democracy / demographics...
central?

the wheel and the square also
left africa with the skeleton:
the arithmetic of bones and muhammad...
but the triangle settled in greece
and became pythagoras...
and the letter: Δ....

    the inter-racial violence of north
h'america... is not... beside the wery bwitish
advent of ****-stan... as... imaginary
loitering of a border: coming to survive
with Belfast-Kashmir...
           that's making priority of...
the written word...
over the skeleton jump-start...
       bypass...
              and the emoji... and... grafitti...
clue out of africa...
never met... the sub-continent of india...
or... the chinese ideograms...
or sanskrit...
but... ******... *** and bounty...
the mongols never made...
crimea... their capital...
hastings was forever a washington's
survival guide...
       that theatre gave the birth
of lincoln and... whitman was...
everything any other poet: including
homer and dante always dreamed of...
that europeans invited themselves
toward: finding h'america in a can
of sardines...
and that the h'americans believed
they found europe... in kent or essex...
or... in books...
or... in loitering... or being...
allowed to be obnoxiously loud...

            like that **** would still stink:
100 years from now...
but yes... the libido of a genghis khan...
i trace my libido to:
how i imitate the people who
check their blood pressure when i *******...
i... genocide my... fractions into
the moloch couldron that's:
beside... the prayers of a...
        tele-evalngelical church of praises!
h'america is nothing new...
it's just better: regarding...
what remains... a solid old.
Annie Quill May 2014
Do you realize I can see it?

That look in your eyes?

Saying I’m a freak?

A loser?

A spazz?

A good for nothing?

A ******?

That look that says I’m different?


I’m tired of being different,

Of trying to be like you,

Why do I even try?

To be like you?

Can’t I be myself?!

Oh wait no!

I CANT BE MYSELF!

It’s socially unacceptable!

What the hell!

WHY CANT I BE ME?!


Is that so bad?

To try to be myself?

To be individual?

To be unique?

To dress how I want?

To say what I want to say?

And do what I want to do?

And act how I want to act?

To be myself without rebuke and constrain of social norms?

To be individual without being told its wrong and being tied down with the ropes of unspoken social rules?

To be unique without being glared at with looks of contempt and aloof?

To dress how I want without being looked at like I’m crazy, or told it’s out date?

To say what I want to say without being told that it’s weird or out-of-line?

To do what I want to do without being told I have to stay within certain confines?

To act how I want to act without having my lines scripted and my moves choreographed by the rules and regulations of society?

Is it so horrible to want to be who I am without the looks that say I’m an out-cast or having to live within the walls of social norms?

Am I such a terrible person that I can’t be myself?


And do you realize I can see it?

That look in your eyes?

Saying I’m a freak?

A loser?

A spazz?

A good for nothing?

A ******?

An out-cast?

A person out of line?

That look that says I’m different?


Because I do see it,

And it hurts,

To know I’ll never be accepted,

Or told its okay to be me,

To be individual,

To be unique,

To dress, say, do, and act how I want,

And not have to ask my Mom,

‘Is this outfit okay?’

To ask my friends,

‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘Did I do something wrong?’

To ask my teachers,

‘Did I act out of line?’

To say to the whole wide world,

‘I’m sorry for being me,’


I see the looks,

I notice them every day,

And I must ask,

Can you please stop?

Because I’m sorry,

For being me,

Because I can’t change,

Who I am,

Because I see you, and I notice the looks you give me,

And they hurt,

So please?

Can you stop?

Just for one day?

Just one measly day?

Because it hurts,

And I can’t change,

Who I am.
Classy J Jan 2016
Yeah, fearless, now watch me clear this obsession, that others keep stressing on, watching people keep wasting their lives over precious things as if they themselves have become like Gollum mon. But I digress, this is my mission, this my vision to run this dominion. I am fearless, devil can you hear it, I have overcome you're torment, I no longer fear ****. God oh the father up in heaven, It still looks like I aint one you're disciplinary brethren. This is my goal, ******* I am on a roll, can't decide which way to go. Classy so sassy, jumping over all you spazz's because you are all too drastic and dramatic. I am the fanatic that don't panic over first world problems, because ever problem can be solved, given time, I'm sure I will never again hit rock bottom. Fearless, so careless to the things that used to bother me, but nothing impedes me now that I got my masters degree. Going off you melon tops, you think I would give up when I got my friends for backup. So I haven't always been this way, but this is the way I rock today. I can only move forward, to tomorrow, can't look back at all my sorrow. Different me, so I think a lot differently, starting to build up my lyrical ministry. Fearless you can't commandeer this vessel that is so special,  that would be dreadful, so unethical to this human that is so gentle. Just a gentile that has over come his shackles, so gnomonical of all these obstacles I tackled. No more skipping over the point with the story of the birds and the bee's, because we finally have the keys to get off of our knees. To fearful are some, no fear for this one, because nothing can no longer have me outdone. Fearless can you comprehend how clear this is, but a lot of you are still to blind to see that fear is your nemesis. Why can't everything be good like in the book of genesis, I'll tell you why, because this generation has gone to ****, that is most definite. Some of you won't admit, but to be completely honest I don't really give two *****. No more fear holding me back from being in a relationship, I have become smart as a chip, blasting out here like I'm a rocket ship.
sycokitten Jun 2015
I wanna set the world on fire
instead I puff to get higher
shift,  flip,  switch,  bam
I don't even give a ****
enraged
im caged
hello chemical monster, where'd you come from
5 seconds ago I was totally numb
slam my brain into the wall.
Im just waiting for the downfall
irrational
theatrical
I wanna bleed myself dry
or bust open and ******* cry
its like im against myself today
don't even have the words to say
what the **** are you doing to me
I just want to be free
they spazz cause my smiles gone
ask me what in life is wrong
I don't know. I don't care
I just feel . life's not fair
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
‪Things you don’t say to‬
People who
Suffer from trauma
And traumatic life
Those worlds are....
Spazz
Spazzing out
And spazzed out.  
Say that and you
Will see how ******
The universe really
Is!!!
You were desperate for affection
you never knew I had
 You thought that it will never come
from my hands and mouth
Or even my heart
Constant give and take,
Yes you  always gave and never
  took what you wanted nor deserved
I'm sorry for having you cry tears
Or even making you have fears
I'm sorry for being such a ****!!!!!!
Trying to get revenge for something
You didn't mean to do
But you hurt me constantly inside
But yet you never knew
I gave my all even my trust
And when I saw you do something
Beyond compare and challenge my trust
I spazz out instead of letting go
I kept trying to hurt you and I'm sorry
I know your friends wanted  me
To be CUT LOOSE !!!
It was because how I treated you
I regret even hurting you
That was the one thing
I didn't want to do
So I ask for forgiveness
And for a second chance
To make it up to you
And I promise you
I will NEVER say or do anything
To EVER hurt you again.
I hope you read this and give me another chance
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch
Bang in the first measure
Came the congenital seizure
Skewing the first invention from scratch.
The campfire skied its sparks
Into the ghost-ridden void,
The skittish tchotchkes
Of paradox and entropy
Quirks and tics as dumb as bricks
Until a headstrong mongoloid
Started groping for rhythm
In the quavering spasms.

Oh, but it was a jawdropper
A bang-up tour-de-force
A horrorshow time-warper
Of Luke and Kirk and spice,
The good apple ran the table
Till the old goat hacked the matrix
And the young hawks did their mind-tricks
Of a tessellated cat’s cradle...
And paparazzi made the odyssey
From planets Claire to Z
To dish how cosmic *******
Trysted protomolecule
As the major ghosted ground control...
In all, a very large array
Of bingeworthy groundhog days.
Lukewarm confabulation
Of the smoking embers
From the essential tremor
Ceaseless oscillation
Between good cop and bad copper.

And the girl scouts chorus
With cheeks full of S’mores
“For all of your fables
Of hobbits and hubbles
And sabering at windmills
You will never untie the volition
Riddled into the convulsion,
Nor how the campfire kindles
Nor be one of us.
You will always ***** the pooch
Halfway to the paw-paw patch.”

Nurse Dipso-Etheromaniac
And Dr. Thorazine-Brainiac
Shoved their two-part invention
Cold turkey into the clockworks,
Cleft lip
Fetal eyes
Flipper-fingered
Riddled with the shakes
Cold-shouldered him to another dimension
Where muggles punk ETs,
And their whiskey wizards
Serve up mock elixirs
Not some hair of the dog to undistemper
The secondhand DTs,
His doggo superpower.

Bill Grogan’s goat
(Bam bam bam bam!)
Was feeling frisky
(Bam bam bam BAM!)
Chased three red skirts
Across the galaxy...
“I knew you were one of the ***** boys
But why do your hands shake like that?
They flipper and gibbet all over the keys”
The sour-smelling teacher spat.

And the mean girls echoed
With tongues of acid
“See how they lurch and squirm!
You will never get to the paw-paw patch
You will never find dear little Susie
She will never teach you to hulu
And you will never two-step
With dear old Johnny
With fists of wiggle worms.”

He touched off the fireworks
Torching all your pomp and cirque
In some skullduggery
Of **** and villainy.
I, Dropout
Outcast
Clonetrooper
Mutineer
Hitched a ride north of the watchtower
Where imperial walkers with hooves of ice
Stomped the land flat, and late-blooming
Summer never shakes the phantom menace
Of the winter that is always coming.

Somewhere in the interstellar distances
Of Kantian prairie perturbed by auroras
Like those night-blooming skyflowers
I glimmered back into existence.
I drank with wildings dropped with the dead
And vaped the contrails of the mad rocketeers
(Kid Rambo, Def Louie, Jedi Freddy and Manny
Steampunk Sal and Wig Out Johnny)
But never found sweeter ******
Than the next bridge to burn.
I, callow flamethrower
Of Shiva, the destroyer.

Marshall Gunpowder Jehoshaphat Miller
The bad apple of the force
Hatchet-faced and porkpied
Dead by ****** suicide
Born again old-schooler,
Packing halitosis
From ossified canon
Skywalked me down.
Gospeled me like Luke
And knee-capped me with a curse
Shame; the oldest mind-trick in the book.
I served out my prodigality
In Ludovico therapy
Which for a half-life, somewhat took.

Headlong into retrograde
I crashed the zero-sum arcade
Fed a quarter into the supercollider
And with some crazy tic of the wrist
Spooked the ball’s trajectory
So it champagne supernovaed
And spat out the shabby ghost
Of a birthright lottery.
Thirteen golden statues.
But as the digits flipped
And the mission crept
As it does to one and all
Faster than a cannonball
I flashed back to renegade.

And the made girls chorused,
With cheeks full of Botox,
From their partial-view suites
And partner-track perks
Of bottomless cups
Of shut the **** up,
“You nearly made the grade, you!
But then you had to mouth off job-hop Hulk
Out, which finally betrayed you.
Now Security Guard Miller
Will escort you off the premises
For a reckoning with your nemesis
Regret, the silent killer.”

True, for a season I was a bluepilled moon
Marooned with space junk
And cypherpunk
Doomscrollers
Of deadend might-have beens,
Like the lunar sonata’s
Primal whisper of futility,
Until it tripolars
Into ultraviolent agitato
And hits escape velocity

Now loosed from orbit of the Goldilocks planet
I tumble through space in dumbstruck rapture
Of hurricaned stars and thundercloud nebula
I tremble in the thousand-parsec stare
Of the headless horde of dark riders
That stampede the stony hobbits,
Through the looking-glass of lightyears past
I see monstrous galaxies in ungainly copulation
Blushing Hiroshimas of atrocious release
And multi-sunned planets where misbegotten
Beings shudder into self-consciousness,

While I drift toward the event horizon
To be gobbled into the enigma
With a little gasp of gamma
Hammerstricken wires frisson.
Where the eleventh measure of the first invention
Counterclockwise corkscrews
Way down yonder in the paw-paw patch,
After a very long array of groundhog days
My skeleton crew bunch into alignment
Like that hunch of spooky entanglement
Or just possibly like that eternal dissonance
Quelled by a quanta of true arrogance,

In a clockwork grotto
Grows a chrysalis F-sharp
Where fingers at last Goldilock
Into queasy equilibrium,
To my dumb surprise
The dark sac butterflies
And there is Susie
A little tipsy
On hard compatibilism,
With hips of pulsars
And hands of auroras
She hulus like the time warp
Not spasm without rhythm
But otherworldly vibrato.
On the infinitely big and infinitesimally small, and deeply personal.
Juno Overstreet Apr 2016
starting to calm down,

then comes the uncontrollable
twitch
    of the finger.

muscles spazz
not used to
sitting so long.

unmoving,

until the body
becomes still as
air in
summer heat.

eyes closed.

i feel the earth as it spins under me.
my heart beats to the rhythm of the clock.
Faizel Farzee Jan 2023
let's take a second to listen
written alphabetically
with a brand-new addition
spliffing delivering
heat, cat on a hot tin roof
sizzling, Messi, dribbling
spit ill sickening
guest visiting,
lend me your ear, listening
shimmering as he shines bright
twinkling, divide, partitioning
locked up, imprisoning
doodle, scribbling
SA drill
spicing  with flavor
seasoning, using my head
thinking of reasons
to justify reasoning
for dazzling,
as we settle in

round 2 smurfed but
not blue, more a colored
hue, repping cape town
awe bru, wake up
disabling snooze
jesters you fools
visionary when I see
first from the back
they all lose
not a masquerade it's all true
deadline my times due
ask mew 2, pokemon
index, it's perplex
get ash too, over
a cuckoos nest birds flew
seeking asylum hes crazy
still frosty so cool
yu gi it's time to
dddd duel


this the part where spazz out
remove doubt, running circles
on tracks, roundabout,
roundhouse kick to chin and mouth
no handout, grind out
red hot
circular rounded
noise drowned out, not shouting for clout
cant recognize skill,
take this pill, it will break
the spell my tracks stackable
not saying this sarcastical
sarcastically or sarcastic
not applicable, resolve soluble
doubt dissolve i'm liquid cyanide
every track i ****, surgeons
precision with a scalpel
so skilful, I sculpture
syllables in rhyme schemes
unseen to the naked ear
class dismissed school bell

so tell all its not all folks
not ****** toons no jokes
not ****** tunes, with lazy tones
I have lampoons, that ******
death squad platoon
you'll be history lying in ruins
surfing these dunes no fear
seeing things as the series turns
with unclear reasons I'm nuclear
its a song so dope on recorded
trixmilk Jun 2020
i’m wasting all your ****
because every time you get high
i blow you like ****
if i bit the tip off
blood stained teeth look so bad
because the braces off
gum problems grinding teeth
crunching on pearls having dreams
of pearly whites falling out like
chuck e. cheese token
wake up startled and you’re not next to me
panic attack paranoia at 3 a.m.
witching hour demon watching through
the window
i am not safe from cherry eyes with the
lamp on because they can see me
staring through the window
spazz out to realization
what’s behind the woods
i take a pretty pill and slither out the window
while laying in my bed
pillow texture heavy but pitter patter crunch grass therapeutic
soar through fence, float over trees
come to the spot
by the lake we sat at on easter
i want to go back to summer
i want to go back to spring
i want to go back to winter
when we were shy for each other
now i can’t look you in the eyes
without twists of guilt and adoration
because we argue too much
i don’t even know how to cry
while you fill up the lake
big brash geese flop down into
this pool of your tears
i brush my hand against your shoulder
to comfort you but you shudder away
from me
like i’m a ghost’s breeze
my heart dips its head and goes
downstairs for a snack
water dispenser don’t work
so my mouth’s dry with toasted air
strained lungs can’t cough up words to say
knowing how to comfort you is a skill i forgot
all i can repeat is i love you
you sob at the side of your house as i flutter to you
butterfly butterfingers
as you slip out of my touch
i’m getting so distant
because the tide is pulling me back
let me say i love you baby
you say “i know you do”
i retract back to my bed
no night’s sleep stuck in a trip
doxycycline ***** cycle
you witnessed eight times
in one night
and you comforted me
i miss when we took care of each other
cycling through our memories
i want to pedal to you
but i don’t know how to ride a bike
told your pappy i ran over my mom with
purple disney princess bike when i was six
you let me in your home
built up on swiss cheese drywall
basically an old married couple at sixteen
waking up in (y)our bed together
naked planning for our baby in ten years
please let me cross this imaginary line
and run into your arms
our bodies were crafted from fire and amniotic fluid for the sheer purpose
of holding each other
the nook of your neck and shoulder
and the cranny of my hips
we come together like puzzle pieces
please don’t swipe me off the table
i want to fit with you
Dkb Jan 2019
Tick tick tick tick....
Bang!
A textbook slammed on my desk to pull me back to class from where i was lost.

A clock. A simple object sometimes a simple distraction with a tick sound that for most is easily blocked out.
Not me.

My brain is wrapped in train tracks with overflowing pit stops an non of it ever shuts down, the train is constantly going at full speed and randomly will come to an abrupt stop at a pit stop not of my choosing.

So while sitting in a room with everyday items and situations every and anything is something alien to my brain. My eyes never knowing where to look like two scared trapped creatures trying to find a way out, left right left right up down up down corner to corner to corner .

My hands constantly fumbling with something, my toes wiggle or i shake my legs kinda how you shake your water bottle when you want the flavor powder to mix with the water, oh while i was thinking of that im now in trouble because I've drifted away from my seat and have been touching random supplies and talking to everyone but its ok i made my teacher and everyone else laugh so im not as in much trouble but i have to sit back down and focus on the lesson which is i don't understand bc all i hear when someone speaks is the sound you hear when the adults speak in the peanuts.

Before i realize what im doing i find my self with pencil in had doodling on my desk spirals an squiggles along with funny the characters , i wonder if anyone else notices the fly on the window, what if its literally spying on us gathering information to inform the bug an insect armies they are being trained to take out humans.

Tick tick tick tick...
My eyes dart over to the direction of the sound to find myself back at the clock and its like i jump out my body and dive into the clock which is full of crazy fast moving gears that i run on and jump from one to the other following the sound of the ticking because i swear theres a tiny room hidden in the clock and the sound can be changed.

While I'm traveling around my weird clock world when someone speaks to me i freak out because my ears finally register there's something else wanting to be heard and then everything shatters i jump back into my body an spazz out like whoah who's that who are you what are you saying why are you speaking to me Oh! Its only Rachel the friend I've had since like 2nd grade.

The days are so different, sometimes I'm a social crazy person who talks till you tell me to shut up and im constantly wanting to go to stuff and sometimes im difficult to keep under control while others days the world freaks me out i mumble my words i can't think or speak and i get anxiety that builds and builds up pressure till i breakdown, people make me nervous, large crowds give me panic attacks, talking to someone or having to answer something makes me want to cry until the room fills up with tears like alice in wonderland.
I'll stare at you and while you speak but i can't hear you my brain doesn't process your words or that your actually there, i look at you but i don't see you, i look at your lips an there clearly moving but i can't hear the sounds or make out the words , I've probably only been focused on your tiny freckle under your right eye that most wouldn't notice unless you pointed it out.

Then there are outbursts that are so confusing, like ill freak out if your clicking a pen maybe i didn't yesterday but today i know i will, you wanna have a conversation today? I think not because whatever you're talking about for some reason today it just ticks me off so i just want you to stop talking and leave me alone. Textbook on the left side instead of the right side of the table today well that is just not ******* ok with me so i sent your name and address down to hell on a post card. You wore purple shoes today? Well ******* DUDE THAT MAKES ME ANGRY AS HELL FOR SOME REASON I DON'T UNDERSTAND. While at time the mirror becomes an enemy an seeing my reflection makes my blood boil and makes me want to smash it into a million pieces.

Im on a constant rollercoaster and my head is a chaotic fair everyday. Simple tasks for you are daily battles i struggle with and i don't really understand myself but they don't need happy healthy kids who feel there in control of themselves an there actions. They need well behaved kids who make good grades and get acceptable test scores that do as there told.

So i get a doctor who will squiggle some stuff on a paper, tell all the parents to pump there kids with drugs when they don't act how they want then the teachers shove you in a tiny empty room with no one else so i take the test and get those test scores there dying for but i don't posters taken down or the stapler put in a drawer or the clock taken of the wall because those aren't my only distractions, im my own distraction i can escape inside my head for hours on end or i can stare at my hands for the whole day thinking of every detail on my hand in deep detail like its crazy.

A ****** for me is that i love art and i love writing but writing is hard i know i make alot mistakes but also sometimes my stories or poems or whatever im writing can change into something different or i go off topic because my brain never stops what ever pops into my head i write it as i think it even if I'm writing an essay on president Lincoln if cheetos pop into my head I'll start writing about like oh president Lincoln was the... man i like cheetos ya know there so orange an taste so good an like you can have crunchy or puffy, crunchy cheetos are my favorite i wonder if president Lincoln would've been a crunchy or puffy cheeto kind of man.

I need a big trash can for my brain.
I make alot of mistakes when writing so dont get to mad at me
ah yes! now i remember! i lost that poem: where i was talking to Odysseus via Homer, concerning the madness of hearing the sirens and the tales of 21st schizoid man... but that wording is lost: or at least someone retrieved it, kept it for themselves... because i swear by the almighty: there is no magical combination of clicks that can make you close down a web browser and all the pages you had on standby... god created man in his own image: but also the ape... to sort of put man off balance... can't exactly crescendo with that lie any more; unless of course ***** forgot to add: and god made man in his own image: and the monkey in man's image: just so man could forget or not reveal: how god was just this... Lovecraft monstrosity: love me love me love: get crucified!

in the Islamic tradition of conquest
whereby effigies
or paintings would have their eyes
gauged out as the ultimate violation
of soullessness:
sleepy-tide i assume:
more so than the current stagnation
of the newly literate who
scribble words in graffiti on sacrosanct
"concepts":

last night was the last time i bemoaned
of took to fright and despair
at the magic finger combination
on QWERTY that would allow
me to close down a canvas and
leave a poem deleted in limbo...
i have lost at least a dozen poems
by this miraculous feat of magic-finger
"confusion":
and it was a mighty poem...

just as much concerning this morning:
is one supposed to wake up
remembering falling asleep?
just as much as:
is one to die remembering
being alive?
it's a sick travesty of complicating
consciousness with generics
and stereotypes of the supposed
lived experience:
when people phone in to radio
stations and bemoan having
recurrent dreams...
i dream sparingly: disparagingly...

i tried my best to unearth the themes
in the poem that is now:
i wouldn't say lost:
given the scrutiny of c.c.t.v. i'm on a whim
going to guess that i wrote
something so profound:
it was just the choice of words
and how i arranged them
that must have sparked a paranoia theme
in someone monitoring this
website:
Luddite i am:
but there's only so much technological
paranoia you can work with
when you get to talk about algorithms
and search engines with an A.I.
platform: which is not a person...

but what did come to mind is:
mouths...
anuses...
         to me: angels are beings without
mouths...
evidently:
why would angels needs mouths
in order to speak?
surely dogs have mouths...
but does that make them equally intelligent
as humans: who also have mouths:

a mouth is an **** an ****
is a mouth:
why would angels require mouths
in order to have anuses?
a mouth requires an ****:
an **** requires a mouth:
for me: angels have no concept of mouth
or teeth or tongue...

so this whole shabang of god made man
in his image:
well: but if god also created angels:
the man in me says:
you can do away with all that mouth
and subsequently ****:
because you can communicate
telepathically: no?
aren't those the symptoms of schizophrenia
that one hears hallucinations
floating about
like we know electrons don't orbit
there's no planetary oval distinction
that electrons are quanta
i.e. they appear and disappear
in clouds or how intact is obstructive model
for gravity earth wind water fire...
but on the microscopic clarifying of
details: spooks and ghosts of
counter-intuitive measures...

angels have no mouths:
clearly that saves them the need for an ****
since angels can't exactly talk
about eating
or food...
why depict them with wings
for that SPAZZ SPACE X disorientation
all wings: and all mouth:
no!
angels don't have mouths!
if they have mouths and faces
of humans...
then they must have anuses:
clearly an **** requires a mouth
but why would an angelic creature
require an ****?
ergo... an angelic creature doesn't
require a mouth...

oh i'm pretty sure the draft is saved
but i can't unearth it due to
502 bad gateway...

         but it was me in my prime...
comings and goings:
i still don't understand why monotheism did
away with the underlying feat of
stalking humanity:
by the gods: somehow men stopped
gambling
and the gods stopping playing tricks
on humanity:
yes: the all loving god is only the all
loving god with
the face of a tortured poetic cannibal:
this bread my butter this blood my fig
this bread my body this wine my blood:
like... if this isn't: ******* mischief
and bigotry all encompassing
then we are all fools for believing:

this precursor of the Cartesian model
said nothing of what he thought:
but everything that he supposedly was...

i, am, the way...
and by the way...
there's a ******* fork in the road
and i'm calling it a centurions gamble
on the next dealt cards:
because i'll be all ******* Ernest Hemingway
when i say:
men without women
is that quintessential epitome of
behavioral psychology that needs to
be force fed to young males...

how weirdly we behave almost
Siamese ghost twinning to an artifact
of ourselves we thought was lost
but when awakened by the opposite ***
losing marbles while at the same time counting
them...

for some good kofta and creamed up
garlic sauce of a ****
i would be willing to speed up Gonzales
and make it all the way from Mexico City
to the glorious state of Hawaii
to play a little dangling-lay-lee
with my *******?

    angels have no mouths...
why would they need mouths if they
clearly don't need to have anuses...
if angels talk to god then...
oh yeah: the fallen angels have mouths...
clearly they also have anuses...
but the pristine ones don't have mouths:
like god doesn't have two eyes...
and no mouth either:
maybe ***** has two ears
but then again:

this is my returning to ask of god:
but: you're nothing like i am nothing like ape
but you expect me to just hide
the hidden urges of sussing out the Bogart
of telepathy and telekinesis
and metaphysics like we're talking Frank
and Jill and everything's just ******* dandy
because of an Andy?!

Varhol my ***... tonne of baked bean
tins...
                      take another splash at that *****
custard: there are three orientations
on the throne of thrones:

sikam: i'm *******...
sram: i'm *******...
spuszczam: i'm *******...

            if i get to heaven and i find that angels
have mouths...
i'll start looking for nuns without anuses:
why would creatures so pristine
require mouths...
i get the wings... fair enough:
halos... fair enough...
but surely heaven is as frightening
as hell:
hell is more familiar since most of us
manage to already step into it:
rich or poor...
but heaven must be just as frightening
as hell:
and what could possibly be more frightening
than a creature with wings
and all that's worth androgynous:
without a mouth... but still able to speak...
and you can make sense of it: "audibly"...

i don't see the point the depicting
angels with mouths:
since a mouth is a precursor to ****...
but angels don't eat...
eating is a foreign concept in heaven, no?
ergo ******* in heaven is like
the pleasures of ****** in hell
no?
        maybe i'm just ******* childish
or maybe no one has clarified this "problem"
for me or for anyone...
Mateuš Conrad May 2018
/an invested man, said so little; hyper-autism in the format of solipsism... something in the chance of an Afghan of gamble... G... rolls counter B counter R... and the rest remains: Praha.*

to invest
in a microcosm of
of feelings,
stable,
is to shy mind
a warsaw
witch say in
3rd voice passing:
i'll keep him...
you, my *****,
the chemical engineer
soviet scoops...
and worh minding:
predading:
OLI-GRACH
   ras...
                 KU-RVA-
PUTIN!
            THE *******
have idiot-spazz or
will retards build
the bridges?!
  retards build the bridges...
NO WIN!
                   well done,
democracy overturrns
nature...
    "bolshevik swine"....
    nature and "man"
                                     ...
god and "etc."
                        aren't the prized
mousetraps?!

    GHANA
and...
                Nicaragua is not China...
sunset ******* Val Kilmer
Buleuvard...
   boo-yah... gang...
     n-ah-n-ah!
Black souls look deep within folks wanna a piece of our sins
Living a three dimensional prison and it was written giving
Wicked dues from faded tools all works upon the evil Jews
I hold my jewels breath in and breath out just another snout
To keep ya jaws from flapping about the black steel in chaos
Enemy of the public I'm above it watch me shove it cover it
Like the media sticking ya to the false covers Undercovers
Snipers watch for the brothers of different shades of color
No longer about race it's about the misplaced real over the fakes
Doubles D clocking cake im having threatening dreams schemes
Played like Romeo & Juliet mad cuz I'm a threat cold hearts inject
Posion stiffin' the noising smiles really a hidden foul grin circling
Around my enemies fifty ways to bring em to tragedy ya majesty
Holding it down like Kobe westward bound by east sounds
Coasting I'm floating the Atlantic seas enjoy the breeze my steez
It's hard to comprehend I lay trends that never end flows pinned
To a ship snake the corporates drama maker watch phones get lit


Gods hidden forgotten son birthed by the sun moon is gone
Rain entered my brain infiltrate my terrains under the grains
Of the insane I know I'm sane looking for the divine cane
Jamestown replica slaves still under the green pastures
Moses massacre I'm before and after pre flooded disaster
Bow to ya master grafted politicians still back door wishing *******
Off the critics of the seen brings happiness to the unseen
Siblings tryna play queen and king I focused aimmed on triple beams
American ****** beats make em hyper coded couldn't decipher
G-O-V cartel tryna get whiff of a smell my styles prevail
Raising hell under the ***** of cell I'm living flows is giving
Sickened all spectators to haters with the skills that'll grade ya
Teacher in session trigger minds my words is bullets aggression
Fight for the cause widen ya jaws take a bite out of reality
Molded it to a scripture Van Gogh plateau moving motions
Midnight waves that's when my soul caught a glimpse of a daze
Graze in the burning grass rub my hand on my girls *** spazz
I'm thinking of ways to make ultimate slays repeat of delays
Black mirror on the wall who's the definitive of them all stalls
Dutch attitude kind and rude show a gun for multiple magnitude
Feel me though holy am I not a spiritual guy but I break pies
With wise guys pass Solomons wisdom true thy kingdom come
Most will be done on earth as they entered my heaven brethren
Watch for the Karen's staring at my smooth walks talks and stalks
A very ego there go opening souls another brotha rising to a Pharaoh
Spazz out on beats puffing sweets shorties looking neat
To my meat I give em a pleasant greet upon the seat
I chill with thirty thousand pharoahs Egyptian spirals
Retrace back to my legacy face they shot of my nose
From Napoleon soldiers guns that rose I'm standing chose
By my foes just anotha leg of the devils woes only the poors
Feel thees ghetto blues laid down with no clues glues
Tha average nay sayer **** to players ultimate layers
Of scripture torment hell bent most of my life I spent
Around fakes can't get another take on life's stake wait
I'm holding my breath to long tryna prolong positive
Connotations temptations weighed in on my patience
Still I rise above occasion occupy wisdom of ancient


No fairytales knock a ghost out of shell forreal
Cuz death never seems so happy call me slappy
Once you see the white lights flashing bright
Off on sight wait I'm just learning wrong over right
Insight of the hidden wisdom most lurked by the dumb
I stay at my own hums of the drums left the crumbs
For the nitty gritty still rep for my city critics litty
Tryna blow up my spots I ain't paperboy

Fools eating too much soy ranting paper boy?

It's more joy to life then begging a knife of strife
Leads to nothing trife fans to foes leeching
Catch the tip I'm preaching guns reaching
Tryna short your success but I stay above the rest
Keep the crest ak sun flashing elegance
Magnificent to the eyes of the triple beams teams
Working on self meditate health combat stealth
Sitting on riches star child rocking like Mose on the nile
Baby tantrums erupt the brain cuz of unexpected conundrums


Dramas pick pocket ya eyes socket last of the real prophets
Can't stop it they wish they could top it top tier lyricist
Swordfish bring on the genius word to the new created genesis
Living in a world full of exodus every flesh is a dead lust
Failed by luxury too many mistakes for humanity sanity
Seems to be a new abnormality I feel like Ms Waters
Holding the umbrellas to block the reigning berrettas
Check it folks still chasing funky cheddar however
How can u endeavor over the calm stormy weather's
Can't get over the sounds of the groovy beat tellers
Cashing my thoughts to very will of a carnivorous drop
Eat ferocious heats atrocious so just embrace the closes
Thing to real flash the heat of steel beaming reels sequels
Of a flash back of ya life's relapse this aint Em fool
I'm dropping a jewel so many try to play it cool cruel
With the axes of mics I split I sit in silver damien Abraxas
Facts is I'm climbing the underground biz this ain't for kids
Or for the weaks's i flaunt for flawed speeches foes speechless
Once they see how serious I get every flows spit with grit
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2019
you know what
excessive drinking does
to you?

  hmm... melody...
rhythm...
  garbage #1 crush...

       it does something
akin to...
to feed the former once,
once upon a time,
colt...

  you drink... while fasting...
oh, the easy head
the lite head comes
in tow...

      #pointofeveryentry:
because isn't
that the symbol (#)
of the prank call?

           like...
words were phonenumbers...
and like it was spazz
to bombard someone
with conversations:
i never wish to have...

hmm...
at the brothel...
did i think twice that
performing oral ***
on a *******
would grieve me
with a transmitted
****** disease?

to my surprise,
i paid extra
for the act...

         do i need someone
attired in a niqab to
feed a hard-on?

                no...
fame...
       no...
            but you can't begin
to objectify a woman
when she's purposively
overtly-sexualised...

   you begin to feed
the tyrant, of turning yourself
into an object...
      i forget the last time
i invested emotions into
the experience of a canvas
of a woman's body...

all the women
were suspect in bed...
         like but unlike
a milean kundera
novel analysis...
        you kiss with your
eyes open, of your eyes
closed?

                   to close
your eyes: would appear to
hafe gained a true experience...
no fakery...

               but i told myself:
forget the genitals at one time,
with the excuse of
untrimmed ***** hair...
   remain snuggled
like mollusks *******
with only the lips as
proof...

                 leave the brothel
without having *******...
i had to,
to learn grieving the former
angel, sorrow-child
and not much to come
from a "man"...
         since reading
some marquis de sade
as a teenager...
would have made little sense,
by a then, and with a now...

bragging...
           but who wouldn't...
with a phallus the lesser extent
of the width of the african
continent,
imposed on a single extract
of example...

               being bombarded
with images: there's little or no
way forward than to
make inhibitions in the focus
of scribbling words...
that "hide" covert statements...

to begin to write cipher...
         is to begin to write at all.

to drink while fasting?
it's my last resort,
to feed the mind
being drunk,
   and not feed the body
empty calories...
         to drown the mind...
only accessible
  with an empty stomach...
dragging the mind
in shackles and demonic
shadows...
  in silence...
with itchy fingers
    and a knack at keeping
pedantic spelling
rubrics akin to words,
and sentences;
                  last comes pride.  

- with that in mind...
providing something,
that, tomorrow,
will forever leave me
forever unsatisfied
upon a merely glanced
review of effort;

              i'll drag this dog
and bone into a darkened
part of the wood,
   and hang it upon
a waggling's tail
wonton...
                and keep true:
to the cipher,
   to the metaphor...
to the transcendence...

   as long as i am allowed
to reign,
   above a strict obligation
to write out
   a formality,
beginning with a:

dear sir / madam.
the UMRAH: not the HAJJ... squeeze some melons for the Muslims of Pakistan: wonder upon wonder: so anti-climatic when people move up in hierarchies, while i'm still stuck talking about the disparity of quest: between the UMRAH and the HAJJ. i'd love to see Rome, having seen Venice...

and a girl who loves stones
  and such big ***
but beside the big *** and watermelon ****
i guess that if i stop ******* her
i'll get to talk to her and that's like BARCELONA
      HIM HI HI HIM HIM anti-dementia...


i don't man: i'm getting bummed out
completely bummed out
by the focus on me this great yawning
void on the train
just managed to play the commuter
chess right
and sat down after standing up for
12h
and this guy
this ginger blonde 70 year old
drunk or pretending started talking politics
and religion
and he said
i had better chances of being
a priest than a politician
and then he uttered those words: pointing
at others on the carriage:
then to me:
you're a "good man"...

am i, a man?
i feel in this ******* revolution
i'm a mind in a jar
and an ego of a pickle
in *****
i feel unsafe talking my mind
in England
i'd feel less paranoid in China
and Russia
talking about nothing
and God respectively

i am actually scarred, mentally:
i feel unsafe with the BIG ****
BRIGADE
desecrating the Rainbow:
i've seen a rainbow arch above
a soft prison in Kauai
when i was leaving her
to then be reunited with her...

watched some French **** today
and...
well also took a **** and ****
simultaneously
then had a baptism
in the shower
the plumber ****** up the veins
of the hydro channels
a2 aq
aqua

bromance...
Qais
he sneezed and i said bless
you then he replied
with: thank you
i had another Pakistani
in the classroom
who stunted the universe
and the classroom
when upon sneezing
his ISLAM was STRONG
upon sneezing
BLESS YOU
no reply...

  the ISLAM is STRONG with this ONE
a Muhammad Salmaan Khan...
one ****- to another -stani
i don't get it

then my "manager" got my cognitive
wrong
i had a flick-switch
innuendo:

i abhor:
people glad with life
what did the devil say:
T.S. Elliott: juvenile Sylvia
Plath but not the former...
reading poetry depresses me
i get into this melancholic mood
like a member of
my family is drool and doom
O
roll!
rolling O: oooooooooo

i have no time for a typewriter
and being an all female
cast of cinematic casters...
no sugar, baby, no sugar,
i just thought about the trinity
of kissing you while
also ******* you

i felt bummed out about not working
a Pearl Jam shift
and the whole traffic cone
work hierarchy dynamic
became an inflated
Collective-Ego courier Da-Sein postage stamp
: stamped:

the work dynamic i asked
if Lisa was there
but instead Quebec Romeo
and Quebec Yankee:
were there:
but over the radio no Quebec Sue and
Bravo: Gravitas: blue:
zone:
              muddle in my brain:
hence enforcing the cryptic:

   YHWH cf. not vs. LLH

    A E                         A A

and little serpent: a - little - serpent

but i just spent £40 on a Green Day t-shirt
i was not supposed to be
the man listening
to the commuter drunk Dutch:
a male primary school teacher
met his wife
in Glastonbury
festival
have a picture
of the girl's friend taking a photograph
before he walked up and
chatted her up
the Q: uestioner:
math prodigy:
a data analyst
currently unemployed
looking to become an AIRPLANE PILOT
where has my middle leg
of the dream-moth
of middle class in England gone to?

cordon 11:
alley of the Zig Zag
i hate working Wembley
externally:
air of Nepotism
i'd feel safer in China and Russia
right now...
the dogs are barking
and the birds are safe
from all the serpents they once
were: dodo: transition ERASING
TRANSISTOR
UNIT
process: like electricity:

insomnia bound daydreaming
of the purpose of night
to sleep

let me just catch the rhythm
again: no classical no flutes
air benders
just music working around a heart-beat...

taxidermy - oh wow! the correct
spelling: but what was the incorrect spelling?
daxidermi_                    maybe...

habibi UNK'L GANDU
i just want peace
i just want peace
but i know there will be a great upheaval
in that Classical Liberal Leftism
has failed
and it's so miserable to watch
a second
best hide the vowels?

nd t's msrbl wtch... that: took concentration
can speed up the process
in Hebrew among the gods
given that people
speak more two animals
than they do
to their own imaginings:
but were the gods ever so denegrated
desecrated in the Temple of Dyslexia
and girls learning to speak Arabic
but not understanding Arabic

i've only watched 2 matches from the Euros...
maybe i can get the athletes on my side:
project: hip: anti-hippy
i am sad because i bought a Green Day
t-shirt
i was supposed to buy a Pearl Jam
t-shirt for Martin, St. sort of cucumber
and amnesia
like all *** is gone
and there is only conversation:
how we lusted:
wasted:
wanted: waged wars
WARC and WARX
these crucifix incursions:

and look where that left us:
          
   BUT DO YOU N'TAKE
INSTRUCTIONS:
it's a ****** job i told the three black
youths:
i'm not rummaging: yes i am:
a sketch pad...
but i couldn't just:

help me out: dark cloud...

        some powerful with mind
in bed
better than sunshine and surf
and tongue on the glee tempting sea
all rot in sun and skin
performance ******...
  like people junkies esp young girls
i just don't under-
-stand
why get druggie with little peeps
but somehow discourage Reyla
from the bloom...

                        got bummed for buying
the Green Day t-shirt...
i don't even like then
but it had the dates of touring
and i was working
that terrible Green blacker
than the greenest courget
and i was talking to this West African
and about slavery
and island vs city life
and the unavailability of reference
cursors:
with people left behind:
scared of the world:
and STASIS and TIME

           and like i came over when i was 8
year old and
didn't know a tooth from tongue
in terms of speech:
ridiculed for P'UH M'AH
instead of PYOO M'AH...
and that still rubs when someone's
a no one telling you their yours of
the usage of tongue:

that: sends me: SKYROCKETING
that **** makes me summon DEMONS!
then i want as much
carnage in the world
to counteract the Buddhist perfection:
of concerning oneself
with the Oceans
Mountains
Deserts....

            forests and plateaus...
the wheat that is...
         are not my concern: a concern for the people:

Lyndon: you got the timing wrong!
i was about to take down
those rucksacks
when you weren't supposed to:
do a walk around...

    i just wanted to amass at least three
so that people would get "the idea":

prophets of June:
Qais reminded me
something i forgot:

Judaism is a religion of cosmopolitans
probably high achieving couples,
Christianity a religion of females
Islam a religion of males
Atheism and Buddhism
a religion of Eunuchs

i don't like what i write
i don't like what sometimes passes
through me: but like digestion
until improved the improvised
lactose intolerant
then...                        mmm'heh'heh...

       ­      to the echo of demons
gearing up for war...
              only war will salvage me
in the hyper-conscious realization
that life:
is:

                                       SPECIAL:
spatial: spazz:            

                                          **
­
leverage the time-spatial
and the space-temporal...

              as a coin flicker on the kicked
by thumb to flick and late fate:
decide: no rigid dualism:

just rigid, random: chance: fate
an unwilling: luck.

would have never thought that the gods became: also, so bored: with the intelligence of human life, that they would resort to being the Lesser Privy: and settle for gambling: so bored thus current upsurge of Psy Hack Understudy like the deviation from breeding Lawyers: this the breeding ground for Poetic Anti Journalistic Efforts...
           could it please be reminded:
not to look at me so weirdly:
when i'm at work
because i do my work elsewhere
and no manner or matter or hierarchy will
ever, disrupt: my origins of CONCERN:
which, unlike Heidegger: i mumble
because: covertly:

        NOT, CONTEMPT:
CONCERN:
        that's the whereabouts:
whoever thought Heidegger was X...
here's my: ******* nein nein nein
ADOLF ****** HEIDEGGER
SEIG HEIL!
i wil not live, under, the pressures,
of a, pseudo-democratic: GAY: FEAR!
PRIDE: up your ***...
and your *** alone...

               I WILL LIVE IN PEACE
AND QUIET
UNDER GOD AND NOTHING

i will live in peace in China
and in Russia
but i: will not!
live with peace in my heart!
in the western world-culture: ETC!
i have had...

                         ...enough.
Travis Green Jun 2022
He gives me the hottest sweetest vibes that I can’t explain
He tames my flame, his sublime virile style beguiles me
I am so wild on his desirable fiery delight
I can’t be without my kryptonite
His enticingness keeps me electrified
Feels like I am strung out, spazz out
Beside myself with happiness

This feeling is deep, I can feel the increasing heat
Look at me, thick with weakness, sheathed in sweetness
Feenin’ for his deliciousness, dreamin’ about him incessantly
I don’t know what I am going to do
But one thing is sure is that his world lures me to his alluringness
His slickness, his thugness, real hot thriller, he intrigues me
He freezes me, he bewitches me, he gives me stellar chills

I need him most profoundly, I can’t do without him
His A-grade G-status captures me, rocks me hotly
Has me stuck on him, I can’t front, I want to get crunk with a hunk
Let him slam dunk his straightness in my gayness
A whole lotta hypnotic action in steady rotation
Emanating with blazing hot imagination
His ecstatic greatastic mantasticness carries me away

He sets me ablaze, he liberates me, he makes me hot
When I stop and watch his machoness in phenomenal poetic motion
There is no doubt about it, he is an impressive top-shelf spectacle
With unbelievable fresh swag that ravishes me
He is a magical mystery machine
Sweetalicious and vicious, ain’t no denying it
He got a mean keen game that makes me insane
So dangerously mesmerizing and enlivening
I can’t keep my chill when I wish to slip into ecstasy with him
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2020
i sometimes try to envision london as i skim past
warsaw... i'm always missing...
the key ingredient... a mongol... here or there...
it's hard to imagine this whole scenario...

it must be said: someone is paying...
undue "compliments" to this affair...
eastern europe: "clearly"...
             or something of that measure...

just throw chinese sweat-shop sneakers
at the "covenant"! sneakers and glitter and some
readied women for the carousel...
and we'll be having this party till next year...

come to think of it...
the current mystery of the grenfell tower...
some gammon terrorist probably
left a stove on and left his home...
because... that didn't spark... the desired...
protests...
all those choking marshmallows wasn't
the tipping point...
           for the one man needs to be "excused"...

i somehow pity the comparison that
westerners have concerning their...
token friends... their "pet projects"...
the noble savages...
                  fair enough...
beside... a 5ft10 european somehow
manages to catch a 6ft2 zulu goliath...
and hey presto:
i can imagine harded work than...
foraging... the fields...
it's not like... the people were used to...
mine coal...
          
perhaps because the mongol never impregnated
the western imagination...
an actual... horde...
the huns were a horde that displaced
the germanic tribes...
etc. etc. -
but when i think of orcs...
i think of mongols...
and, when in warsaw... you can sight-see
these... "tourists"...
        
   it is known: the Kraków Hejnał...
          st. mary's trumpet call...
                    did i mention the ottoman lick
of the continent?
such peace... anyone with enough...
curiosity...
what saved japan from the mongol invasion
was... ride horses +++...
build ships and sail them...
for the love of minor deities:
that prayed and conjured up a tsunami...

one albino chimpanzee talking about:
the forbidden fruit... metaphor...
the serpent...
and... the crooked mirror...
mirror... the false spine... the teasing...
loot of imagination and time...

2 tonnes of soil moved...
the drainage established... grass worth of envy...
come the watering of the pride...
to pass the time: three beers is not enough...
to pass the time...
idiotic arithmetic...
20 minutes worth of: 1.7 x 3...
          7 x 3 = 2.1 (0.7)...
and 1 x 3... round-off at 5 units of alcohol...

it's so generous to think of...
the orcs like any former slave-trading nation
might... because... the mongols were always...
the little people, no?
grand disclosure... chinese new money...
but as a horde... a people that would move...
with women and children...
always... those empires built upon
the sole purpose of: earth-farming...
land-locked empires...
what alexander sought...
what the mongols replied with...
what the romans made quasi...
when the british imitated the greeks...

             history has become a geek funfair...
or... a drinking **** of...
because with all the scientific facts...
one can... actually... abide with the alternative
already at hand...
the history that was written down...

race baiting and "racism" and
the statement: am i... after finding a willing
cherry-*** worth of glistening choc...
one that with enough coccyx would
ram a plum into the pouch of softness
just above my phallus...
and... i'd grow bald there...
while attaining a spawn of a bearded pride
on my chin and jaw line?

let's juggle... very crude arithmetic of being
unsure... some crude geometric shapes...
sticks and stones...
the easily offended...
because... sorry... slam-dunk millionnaires
of the 12" extension: that chapter in the kama sutra
of: one size fits all...
and... the zoo of chisel oops: daddy-issue projects...
i care... because...
i care to recycle bad news...
            of envy: that there is beard envy...
that turks are naturally born barbers...

i don't like race baiting... the fun boy and the supposed...
much later... matrimonial... and material...
race baiting is like...
   forcing an inbreeding of a scant origins story...
and never is...

i tried to remember why i wrote to begin
with...
       i had to reread some of...
jack spicer's words...
  trust a homosexual to kiss with wording
when there isn't an unlikely woman to bed...
hetrosexual metaphors of ***...
******* as: yes... eating an icecream
is probably that trans-****** focus point
of translation...

   and to have quit smoking... a massive no no...
i have a rancid idea for a dream...
it is a colour... but it's not primary...
i might have a scent... but to sniff it...
you'd have to: SNIFFZ it like a line...
it's called rancid cinnamon...
but it's actually chilly...
       an idea for word that can disguise...
the colour...
                  and... come to think of it...
most words are colourless...
formless...
              apart from square red...
   which is... ◼ and... crimson... rose...
           it's not that language is limited...
but that there are no limitations of its banality...
should art... and not... the cordial...
formality of it being readily available
after pressure and time and enough
of what goes behind... pedagogy is finally
made to be: society-proof inclined as:
corporative...

i love the currency of the joke...
"native" h'americans... and...
                  yew'ropean "descendents"...
probably interchangeable...
otherwise... the crip-cut... staging of events...
concerning... a people...
that... were never... really... invaded...
because... who the hell does that sort
of thing these days...
when the soviet union disintegrated
and the metallurgy industry of poland
was eaten away by some unknown
rust of time...
some "tao magic"...
and sooner or later... everything became
dubbed: the little-chinese-centipede
of invisible hands...
the masculine... plumber...
or... metallurgist... became...
the soap shop clerk... on the rare occasion...
the bewildering ears and eyes
of the ****** diaspora all over the world
probably second to the hebrew context...
because... the arisotracy...
and how they ****** the crown...
and... when some foreign king would...
sit on the throne and exalt...
the same sort of love that...
richard the lionheart: zero anglais:
perfectemą frown-sez...

        it should be a nursery rhyme...
came the mongol horde and the ottoman turk...
came the gust of swede the german loath
and the russian loitering: time borrowed...
to elsewhere: an island near...
england some, land... some...
   little figment of our imagination...

that wasn't a rhyme... this isn't a people...
and that's what...
if you lined up 100 yugoslavs...
and put among them...
5 croats... i could probably pick them out...
hard to know... being...
an african-h'american...
the pride and prejudice...
       if one isn't so... spazz and zpezial...
when in kenya... no?

then... like the older generation
and thier flimsy belief in paper:
looted: and the diluted worth of geld...
the א and ת mobster crude... rule...
that there's an "internet" bias...
    a litany of falling stars!
and bypassing editorial scrutinies
of... a one and only... Willard Bunn III...
in the medium of democracy:
the elect: the poets...
this... the cringe: orb of delight...
of... welcomed criticism...
     a McAfee tequilla morning...
loiter... then loot...

     the... pedantry of a people
who imported their problems...
   Nicaragua, El Salvador...
              Honduras... Costa Rica...
bananas ripe... ripe enough...
to be... straightened... republic implies?
concerning the elders...
first the republic... of the elders...
then the democracy of the youth...
this glue will not necessarily schtick!

there's only one *** diaspora
to counter itself and to not... counter:
that of the ****** hind...
            picking cotton is like: what's for
dinner? candy?
the current tirade of a people:
who have never! and will never!
know or even acknowledge being
invaded! except by ghosts!
dead chinese bone sinew being
recycled... the currency of water
has been replaced with a tease
of salt from the alive... work-******...
******* at a job... the great yawn!
of a... "perhaps"...

    grovel like a pig:
   jut in case: you might have to feed
the "needy"... devoid of the need...

there was no "forbidden fruit" to solve
our paradox modus operandi of
inquiry... which served us...
pretty well...
      but the false prophet that replaced
the serpent...
the **** similis: the ape...
that gave us...
less the hope for our fruition...
but our... regressive narcissism
to mind: the current...
low-brow crime of "now"...

               that there's even a pronoun
debate... "debate" to be had...
is... because... english... as a language...
has not... have to...
cater... for a... completely alien...
grammar re-schooling
to begin with...
it's not like... the german zeppelins
landed... when instead they only
dropped bombs to give london...
a crew-cut... "revision"...
gender neutral pronoun debates
have no place...
for a people, of a people of a language...
that reads: prescribed...
that this language...
is like an archeological / etymological
find... and it needs to be...
preserved...
the hebrews have no pyramids...
yes... but they have...
niqab vowels...
              the architecture is... consonant:
resonant...
but their vowels are ethereal...
     kametz (a), tzere (e),
           chirek (i), cholem (o)...
                    shurek (u)...
                  why not envy the yids...
the hebs? for their want of a country...
what overpowered their trait by god
a divination, more... than...
this mere... from this earth you came...
unto this earth... you will return?
if the hebrews are not to be envied...
then they can't be despised...
since... god must be excused from the mind
and each will be governed by
the roulette of chaos...
gambling with "choice" contra:
the "eventuality" of will...
            the jews have their... israel...
2000 years struggling with god...
you'd think: juda'h can be confirmed:
ishrael...
      but no... there's a final test...
much more insisting to be carried through
than a "mere" holocaust...
oh people of "little" faith but of:
great ambition thus planted...
            they would rather keep...
their h'american diaspora...
than... come... and... salvage...
a 2000 year old whim...
  to make their race their creed a home...
among the arabs / the sons and daughters
of... Keturah...
                    desert people... it's not like
they would... become the siberian tundra folk
or the forest elvish kind...
but... they came with their circumcision
and their kosher rites...
and their... "mowhawks" / payots...
envy... i crave to cling to envy
when there is...
to preserve a letter...
than it is worthwhile to claim...
    because... the pyramids of the egyptians
and the pyramids of the Aztecs...
oh i wait... for the phonetic encoding
markers from south america and the north...
and south of egypt...
is... this torture instrument: ♱...
a letter... in the ethopian alphabet?
why not... the pike... hands tied...
ukranian noble... groaning for days upon
end?

oh i love ****-erotica of literature...
i'm a bit tame... when it comes to...
replicating the ****** acts...
missing the ****... crushing the pevlic bones
when... praying to gravity...

- otherwise? how could one ever...
conflate / confiscate /
   what one is supposed to do...
when one... deflates the worth of...
toasted rye...
like... that's somehow... worse... than...
a toasted croissant?
if not better?
to eat a brick's worth
of architecture...
                 clark gable... occupation: amant...
censor... herr...
the following list of housewife
escapee dreams:
            rock hudson...
                   humphrey bogart...
         cary grant...
                    gregory peck...
james stewart...  tony ******* curtis!
and clark gable...
the myth... the non-existing marvel (marr-veel)
franchise... the amant...
     my escapism sack of time...
for footie... snooker...
playing cards... drinking...
and that all-round... degree in being...
pedigree **** "quasi-alpha"...
the corpus christi: omega man...
to conveniently sum up the maxim...
    stanley K'OH-VAL-SK"Y"...
        an i or an e... does... it... really...
******* matter?
ever heard of a spanish tortilla?
me nigh-ver... neither...
           but there's the m'eh-he-he-he-co&co
omlette and such...
now for pitching a tent...
and tending to... peeling an apple...
and a... semi-serious... the end...
since... semi-serious...
is... what denotes this loot of writing as...
well... it's not a novel...
nor a paragraph as borrowed from one;
the hope is...
that it might be treated as a...
exhibit (a) a gnome - apostrophe...
"silent".... gggggggggggggggurgle...
or... exhibit (b)... a tall ******* lebrechaun!
Folks in his vicinity speak of  the sweetness that was Andy Griffith,
while syrupy slurries define what ***** Emil Brach's candy myth is
after the 3 centuries lost to Heribert Illig's phantom time hypothesis
Mayberry's spasmodic rubes'll spazz spastically into sandy cliff pits
to rate the cocky germination of contrasexual, queerly-baited minds
amongst the needles of citric-acid-rich-spruce-beer-rendering pines,
Coca Cola bikini babes snort coca tropane ******* in crooked lines
illiterate & analphabetic to coke's grungy alkaloid nature & designs
on the brain's V.T.A. mesolimbic pathways hid under cortexic rinds
as surely as sodium hydroxide lye to human eyes ulcerates & blinds
to make it more difficult to pay those ever-escalating seat-belt fines
while into our precious eye socket orbits each killer restraint grinds
like a nose ring or cinched girdle or delta harness that cruelly binds
like panicked ******* after the power company turned off the lights
in a warehouse of dobies that bite out mega chunks with their bites
we are horrified that whitey will deny our federal food-stamp rights
for the purpose of inciting plagiarist Alex Haley/Kunta Kinte fights
Folks in his vicinity speak of  the sweetness that was Andy Griffith,
while syrupy slurries define what ***** Emil Brach's candy myth is
after the 3 centuries lost to Heribert Illig's phantom time hypothesis
Mayberry's spasmodic rubes'll spazz spastically into sandy cliff pits
to rate the cocky germination of contrasexual, queerly-baited minds
amongst the needles of citric-acid-rich-spruce-beer-rendering pines,
Coca Cola bikini babes snort coca tropane ******* in crooked lines
illiterate & analphabetic to coke's grungy alkaloid nature & designs
on the brain's V.T.A. mesolimbic pathways hid under cortexic rinds
as surely as sodium hydroxide lye to human eyes ulcerates & blinds
to make it more difficult to pay those ever-escalating seat-belt fines
while into our precious eye socket orbits each killer restraint grinds
like a nose ring or cinched girdle or delta harness that cruelly binds
like panicked ******* after the power company turned off the lights
in a warehouse of dobies that bite out mega chunks with their bites
we are horrified that whitey will deny our federal food-stamp rights
for the purpose of inciting plagiarist Alex Haley/Kunta Kinte fights
Folks in his vicinity speak of  the sweetness that was Andy Griffith,
while syrupy slurries define what ***** Emil Brach's candy myth is
after the 3 centuries lost to Heribert Illig's phantom time hypothesis
Mayberry's spasmodic rubes'll spazz spastically into sandy cliff pits
to rate the cocky germination of contrasexual, queerly-baited minds
amongst the needles of citric-acid-rich-spruce-beer-rendering pines,
Coca Cola bikini babes snort coca tropane ******* in crooked lines
illiterate & analphabetic to coke's grungy alkaloid nature & designs
on the brain's V.T.A. mesolimbic pathways hid under cortexic rinds
as surely as sodium hydroxide lye to human eyes ulcerates & blinds
to make it more difficult to pay those ever-escalating seat-belt fines
while into our precious eye socket orbits each killer restraint grinds
like a nose ring or cinched girdle or delta harness that cruelly binds
like panicked ******* after the power company turned off the lights
in a warehouse of dobies that bite out mega chunks with their bites
we are horrified that whitey will deny our federal food-stamp rights
for the purpose of inciting plagiarist Alex Haley/Kunta Kinte fights
Venus Jul 2023
You know that feeling when your stomach turns
Over and over till you spazz
Nothing given in return
you gave your last
Got nothing back
So now your city burns
Like a phoenix
And all the pain we’ve all seen it
Nothing to gain from this
Nothing but pain from this very moment
I hate you for leaving me in the dust
What the ****
You were my ride or die
But I was left behind
You should’ve stayed
But no you played
Not I feel betrayed
BETRAYAL
Nak Aug 22
Who knew?  
A flying space section  
Prying sake eyeing make iron eight *****  
For takin protection  
Or faking affection  
What's next son  
You lately been stressing  
Life moves fast  
Compared to your slow ***  
Pass gas in the waiting room  
I'm convinced you're angry dude  
Just look at you  
The way you been moving  
Is like a ****** toon  
Vibin to friday night groovy tunes  
  
And now we seeking out a better way of life  
That isnt so filled with strife but  
It aint so easy to find cuz  
Freedom acts lazy casts  
Powers stack crazy traps  
The only way you gettin out alive  
Is through that baby hatch  
  
Quit playing, you not staying  
You sound insane I'm not praying  
Just out playing with myself  
Sounds wrong I know  
But that's just how it goes  
In a world of chaos we can only hope  
To grow and find flows  
Define lows how bad they get?  
Mad you lost cant get a grip  
Lose face faster than losing chips  
Loser ****  
Lose your **** only to find salvation after a years past  
No cash no *** but a new perspective to give back  
That's  
The value  
  
Think your lit now?  
You barely even scratched the surface  
Who scarcely meets his past to see when last he's reached his epidermis  
A blast these epic words is  
A spazz this tepid nerd is  
Elastic sandblasted leather  
Back to whichever shirt is  
At last he's given assurance  
To the most important vessel  
In a game of life and death  
It's war in every bevel  
Secular heavy metal  
Succulent messy melons  
***** to be deadbeat fellows  
Well now we best get on with  
More to reflect on later  
Or be to slept on save your  
Time for another message

— The End —