Manipulated the masses
through media.
Clear the air
for an explosion of silence
before the first acoustics
pierce through the ears
to the spongy minds
of the adolescence.
Close your eyes and
imagine the edited sounds
of the juxtaposition,
clashing the rhythms and melodies
mixed with the reprised chorus of
repugnant magnitude,
meaningless crybaby lyrics
and off-key utterance
with agonizing commercialism.
Corporate record companies
hide behind thick black velvet curtains
and produce highly profitable garbage,
so bad that it sounds like a
dead baby being slapped
against an untuned violin.
Pulling the strings on
radio stations like marionettes
to spread these undesirable
golden oldies like wildfire.
Using and abusing music television
to overplay videos repeatedly
until it nauseates your innards.
These puppet masters reel
the uneducated into the
blackest tar pits and capture
their gray matter for eternity
to what they believe to be
is acceptable music.
Unknowledgeable and unaware
of anything else in existence.
In a world that makes haste,
we don't take the time anymore
to appreciate what we listen to
that actually fulfills and pleases
our soul, body and mind.
Generation after generation
declining into the sludge and slop
of objectifying and degrading compositions.

Record stores hold sanctuary.

Providing hidden gems and treasures
for explorations.
Rummaging through the LPs and EPs
and scrutiny of 45s and 7 inches
to find the pearl in the oyster
concealed under piles of
flotsam and jetsam,
thrift store throwaways.
Music lovers are like
archaeologists and scuba divers
rediscovering obscure rarities
in old crates of the deepest,
darkest depths of
mildew basement cellars.
One moment before the next,
in the highest fidelity
as the needle drops on the licorice pizza
and off the twang comes
the lovely wax statics
of the most ******* reverberations.
All the little hairs stand upright
and tingle the back of your neck
and arms as the notes
flow off your fingertips
and you fall into a
complete state of euphoria,
like a Buddhist that's reached
Nirvana.
Gritty Maestros of the underworld
construct celestial symphonies,
so soothing they can tame
the wildest beasts and
orchestrate the most
diabolical spazz noid cacophonies
as the high frequencies skirmish
through cracked speakers.
Music can summon the demons
inside you while reaching
therapeutic climaxes
simultaneously.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

‪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.

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

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

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.

/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!

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.

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

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