I remember when I was a young thing, barely even a couple million years old. You were so young too. It seemed that just yesterday you had crawled out of the muck stinking of sulfur and brimstone. My father used to laugh at you and call you “his little funny ooze.” This day, for no reason at all, my father gave me a gift. It was such a tiny thing, barely a flickering light. Up to now there was almost no light. Oh, but what a beautiful thing it was. Had I known how much I would enjoy this I would have asked for it sooner.

He handed me this glimmering sparkle that was barely a speck of dust in my hand. What power the speck had, it struggled and raged against the darkness and began to grow, so much so that I had to turn my head for a moment. My body started to tremble. I think I was afraid, even though fear had not been created yet.

Until now darkness had enveloped all of existence. There was only an occasional flare of cosmic energy. Sometimes this red orange and white light would appear, engulf us in its fury and majesty. Then it would fade away, but that usually only lasted a year or so. The warmth would stay with us a little longer. Many times it was such a relief to feel anything at all, except for the cold numbness of darkness and uncertainty. I never knew where father was going with this experiment, but he took such joy in it so I followed along curiously.

My body trembled in fear anxiety, joy, pain, agony, and passion. There where so many new thoughts and feelings. I could not contain them. The little light had grown incredibly. At first it had been circling me slowly but now its speed had increased exponentially. Faster and faster it rounded my body, humming quietly at first but increasing in volume as well as its’ velocity. I could feel all of these new emotions jerking and tugging, pushing and pulling to get out and the more powerful my emotions became the stronger and faster the light pulsed and hummed.

Suddenly, I recalled when my brother had moved on. We were outside of time watching as specks of cosmic dust began to explode from the center. At that point it was just the center there was no name or description that I could give that would accurately describe something so new and different. My father whispered to my brother, so quietly that I could barely even hear it myself. Had it not been for the stillness and silence of the void I would not have heard him at all.

“ Chronos it is time.”

“Time for what” my brother replied.

And in the softest and sweetest voice I have ever heard my father said “ it is time for you to join your sister Rhea.”

        Then with no warning or explanation he tossed my brother in to the void. By now your small blue orb was just blackened bits of liquid fire and cosmic dust. Yet it seamed my brother knew what he was supposed to do. As he entered the void his body expanded until he was nothing but a gaseous vapor. Subsequently he settled in and hugged your sphere. Which until now I had not noticed, but suddenly I realized that it was my older sister Rhea. He wept in joy as he engulfed her in his vaporous form, she who had until now been raging with cosmic fire spewing and ******* in various forms of cosmic mass, calmly embraced him.  There was such peace and joy that I was almost jealous.

            The light was on the verge of exploding within me and outside of me. Then my father pulled me aside and took me back a billion years. He embraced me softly and whispered that it was my turn. Helios you will burn the brightest out of all of your siblings. You will shine in the past the present and the future. Then with a force I had not known since the beginning of creation he shoved me into the void with his gift. I surveyed the darkness and could not see my siblings. Where were they.

        Finally my insides erupted. I exploded and from my body fire rained in to the void. The darkness was illuminated, shapes took form. Space had meaning. A million years or so later my sister came crashing down. So I shined my light as brightly as I could so she would know that she was not alone. To my surprise she was naked and embarrassed so she gathered bits and shapes from the now lighted space around her and covered herself with fire. Angrily she lashed out at anything that passed ******* it in or spewing it out with great fury. Another million or so years later my brother Chronos appeared and calmed her.
We never spoke we simply existed.

Is greatness endowed by the flick of a sword?
You look just the same to me.
Is taking up arms in the name of our lord
really enough to be free?
Just fashion a noose out of three pure white cords.
string it up into a tree.
Wrap it around that frail throat spewing lies.
Rid the world of a banshee.

Fixed on salad ******* armpit ****
Passionate diaper ***** dodging queefs
**** fat farts and **** sipping
Squiggly nips dangling from a pig
coffee spitting ***** kids with sticks
sticking sticky ***** in **** like a *****
*** cream pageant queens spewing ****
Chris Kringle's candy cane **** tip dripping on lips
sweet **** water for your daughter
******* to Aaron Carter
**** the rest
I'm all out of ******* to step on
best be getting home to *** on my own chest
test the taste and throw out the rest
I tickle my intestines till I **** out hot stew
putrid black goo with nut chunks and fiber skins
stretching ball skin over my **** rim till it's all one
sack
use bread and sauce from a snack pack to make a sack
sandwich
hold the lettuce between my cheeks and toss my own salad
picturing *** ramming ***** spewing out tasty *****
gluey pools of chlorine smelling salty bliss
I picture gargling ***** while lesbians crawl all over me
vibrating fake skin ***** deep in my **** cave
if you misbehave I'll rip off your face while I squeeze your
**** in my teeth and make you sit on my face after you clean
your *** crease bleached and sweet

Spewing hate as usual
Desperate for attention!
Creepy Duchebag rabbi

translate that ravishing look,
your sparkling eyes gift to me
in to your love's exact caret,
reflecting that clarity perfect,
and  cut with a million faces
spewing your passion's urge;
I'll pledge my soul to you
for ever, wear that diamond
life after life, with you beside
smiling, making me wonder,
which is brighter,the love diamond
from your eyes, or your smile
moonlight shower, bathing me ever.

A scuba diver, head first like a dolphin,
goes in to the ocean, 100 feet down
in semi-darkness finds this apparition
something beautiful to behold in motion,
really really big and mysterious it appears
gliding gracefully spewing wonderment,
inviting reverence from all kinds of marine life

Clearly apologetic, for being out of place,
though he has encroached, in to a world
though not far from the sea surface,
yet in a depth where human has no place
all his scientific temper got  evaporated
a simple villager now, gripped by wonder.

All he could think of anyone
fitting in to such magnificence
was God Almighty,himself.
"How do you do God?" he stutters,
aware that in plankton filled darkness
the mighty man is at the mercy of
the behemoth, looming large above.

The phenomenon in question,
"***** whale"as we know him,
smiles and burps happily "Fantastic"
then he dives 6000 feet down, looking
for a colossal squid, succulent to be sure
the whole reason for him to play God
at this depth for sea creatures that lose
bearing in the haze of challenging depths.

Nancy is a new generation of computers programmed to respond biologically she has built-in human shortcomings including conflicted feelings uncertainty sense of soul pre-installed parts of her are dying she can feel it after elaborate shower focusing on specific body selections underarms feet ****** *** face allowing other anatomical regions to retain natural biotech oils lathering scalp with premiere restructuring shampoo conditioner she dries applies fastidious refined moisturizer emollients to forehead eyelids mouth neck areas vigorously massages special mousse treatment into brunette hair cut medium length brushes teeth rinses with spearmint mouthwash lightly rouges face with extra fine powder mist meticulously paints eyes lips with conventional colors finally adding distinctive subtle scents behind ears neck décolletage wrists thighs derriere toes tonight will be 2nd date with Rick handsome successful options trader who has no idea Nancy is extremely sophisticated complex doll meeting at catch.com on their 1st date Rick has too much to drink possibly owing to his nervousness or shyness around Nancy who possesses regal beauty bearing yet infectious smile laugh he spills 3rd drink then orders 4th drink Nancy becomes courteously standoffish

Bob’s LG electronic 27.5 cubic foot French door refrigerator’s water filter ice system located on door is malfunctioning spewing out brown fetid ice chips onto extremely intricate decorative parquet (palace style) floor consequently leaking into downstairs neighbors custom design ceiling dwelling to make matters worse Bob’s smart phone is on the blink his internet connection down due to unpredicted wild winds he is beside himself in isolated frustration compounding this calamity is foreboding realization Bob highly trained biotech computer programmer may have miscalculated tiny chip link inside Nancy’s cerebellum stem

as Nancy is about to open door for eagerly waiting Rick holding small gift box in hand with note that reads thank you for giving me a 2nd chance something quite irregular unforeseen pleasure fear motor impulse tenses snaps inside her head she reaches for door handle while other hand grasps butcher knife

How to conquer the world when you are manic and preserve it when you are depressed.

I had a close friend send me a text a few weeks ago
Reminding me how to breathe and that I had to get out of bed,
I thought if she could have read my mood from the west coast
As I rotted in cotton comforters in the east, I must have been pretty obvious
Maybe it’s because we have been friends for ten years or because
I plaster every up and down online to vague audiences, I cast out my emotions
Like frayed fishing line, trying to catch even a glimpse of someone who relates.
But when this friend texted me she said something that might help balance out
The high-highs with the unbearable lows is writing how I feel when I am both.
I did my best to put the feeling of flying at 100mph upside down with wings made of silken sheets into words but the minute I did they turned into wings of concrete and I lost my focus again. And so I went to answer my friend and I said ‘here is how to conquer the world when you are manic”

I am caffeine therapy,
engulfed in energy
I am yellow, I am green
I am everything at once,
I feel everything all at once.
Did I mention?
Hey, I'm really excited to tell you
I’m gonna save the world,
All of it.
Today.
try and stop me.
I woke up at 4 this morning
Watched the sun swallow shadows
Like it was yearning for something dark
To balance itself out.
Too much light is dangerous too.
I always like to watch the sunrise before I go out to save the world, Waking up early always gives me so much more time And today I will do a lot,  I want to save the world. I hope you know I'm going to.

I am yellow, I am green. I am everything at once.
I am traffic jams spread out across freeways,
I am six trips in a row to the same store because I kept forgetting what I needed,
Music playing so loud you can’t hear anything else
I wash down amphetamines with coffee
I am now Narrow energy. I'm traveling a perfectly paved road Home to a room where I cannot see the floor, but that’s okay because I’m
Going to save the world today.
It doesn't matter how fast I'm going as long as you see me get there.
I am validation starvation in calorie counting notebooks,
I am looks from strangers whose eyes wonder loudly how I got marks on my arms or how I'm bouncing my foot like energy is spewing out my body but still have bags under mine that insinuate exhaustion I never learned how to overcome.
I am a math equation stuck inside the text book
From that semester I dropped out;
I am heat energy dancing inside shattered beakers, I am weathered worn out sneakers still being used because it’s hard to let go,
I'm kissing catalytic conversations with those I love because I need a reaction to feel like they're listening,
I am potential energy ready to become kinetic,
I am energetic and today, I have the heart to save the world.
I am off track, my bad. Its like an “ADHD starter pack” but there's no warranty or handbook.
Anyway, I started by re-enrolling in classes because I have always been good at school,
Except for when I stopped going but I have always been good at school and I can understand why everyone around me might expect me to succeed, I emit determination from my mouth when my heart feels empty, but I did sign back up because
This time I'm ready, and this  time I won’t ever feel low again, I think i beat it finally
I feel it in my bones as I cross busy streets without looking either way
I'm invincible and incredible
I am yellow I am green
I am hydro energy feeding off the
Big deep blue sea,
I am gratitude as an action
Not a trinket I can break
and today I will save the world
and tomorrow I will not be low,
And today I will conquer my fears, all 647
And tomorrow I will tell my friends I love them
And today I will remind myself that skin cells
Replace themselves every 28 days
So I only have to wear long sleeves for that many more
And tomorrow I will wake up and do my homework
And today I will surely save the world,
I will never feel so low as I have ever again
How could I when there is so much to smile for?
I’m laughing so loud my neighbors are asking,
And my friends think I’m doing better and I tell them I am. I am.
I am yellow, I am serene,
I feel it in my skin that I am better
recovery feels like Holding hands at sixteen and iced tea, And this is easy!
I am yellow, I am green.
I am yellow, I am green.
I feel everything all at once.
floating between causes, altruism is a virus, slithering through my veins, celebrating how much I will do today. Did I mention how much I will do today?
I'm going to save the world.
After signing back up for classes I spread out my day like magazine clippings I'll never put onto a “dream board” because I will most likely forget about them, my dreams make better notes in my iphone where I can see them
As I check my contacts to see who I can talk to today. Or who will listen. I wonder who will listen. Or what kind of game I will play to make someone listen.
I am yellow, I am green. It’s noon and I am flying.
Here is how else I will save the world:
I will make sure I save myself first,
I'll clean my room and go to the gym
work off three weeks of sweets with three hours on the treadmill, I forgot how good it feels to run and I know that this is the last time I will ever, ever give up.
I’m better now. I run on a track that loops back in on itself because I find comfort in knowing it will always return no matter how many times I lose sight of where I'm going, I would get lost were I to run outside because when you are everything all at once you seldom stay in place, God there is just so much to look at. I will never look back at who I was even as late as yesterday.
I get lost inside rubix cube mentalities and short lived craft store hobbies, but I'm better.
I am yellow, I am green. And today I am going to be a wildlife photographer, And an artist, and when people ask me what I want to be I tell them
I will work for the United Nations and that I am going to save the world, they believe me and ask me how I'll do it and I realize that I have yet to start saving the world.
I woke up at 4, so sure today was the day,
I felt it in my heart like the time I took two of my adderalls by mistake because I forgot that I took one that day, I felt it and it was real. Throbbing like a bump from falling but real. I lost track of that feeling for a second and now it is fleeting.
What is happening?

I am yellow, I am green.
I am yellow, i am yellow I am yellow,
Are you still listening?
I'm potential energy locked inside a pendulum
Hanging from a chemical tree that dies fast and grows slowly, Im staggered progress dressed up like empathy, I'm baggage too heavy
I am yellow, I am green.
I am fleeting energy
The kind that sparks a few times
On telephone lines turned pink infront of sunsets in july, gone before your friends can see it too.
They never really see it, too.
I am yellow, I am green

I forgot to shower every day this week but
I'm too tired to get out of bed,
What is happening? Can you remind me what I was doing?
I was supposed to save the world today
I’m sorry.
I was really going to save the world today
I'm taking in as much caffeine as I can without
Making my heart feel like it will push its way
Through my ribs out of my chest
Though being able to feel in my chest again
Might not be so bad. I’m stuffing smoke inside my cavities to fill them up, doing my best to keep feeling inside the skin I wear when I can feel it
Going numb, even it hurts at least I can feel it, I wish I could inject caffeine right into my veins,
I wish you could jump infront of moving trains without Hurting everyone on board,
I wish I felt less like this but I wish I felt more,
I reread texts from last night where transitioning
Felt like fist fighting recovery, her having one up on me,

I am crimson, I am grey, I am fleeting energy.
I’m so sorry.


I thought I said that before
And I might have but I forgot, I feel cloudy
I stumbled through steel wool tall grass to make it
Out of bed today and the weight of every single mistake I have ever made feels like it will surely break my spine Right in half, I don’t know if I will make it through today.
I wish someone would save me today.
I am crimson, I am grey.
I need someone to save my world today.

A lovely Latina caught Don Sterling’s eye

And, for sure, there’s no fool like an old one.

It helped he has Billions, You know I don’t lie-

because you must  give sums to get some.



His wife got upset, (you know how they get)

As she saw their cash flow out the door.

“Two cars and a condo! I’ll make him regret

the day he encountered that *****.”



The wife sued the mistress for her “ill gotten” gains,

half of it hers by the law.

Then they caught Don, on tape,

Spewing sound bites of hate-

Now he can’t run his team anymore.



A little blue pill can do old men ill-

It deceives them to think they’re a Stallion.

The next time you reach for an eighteen year old, Don,

I suggest that you pour a MacCallan.

I am a humming bird with a broken wing forming a geometric fall.
I am a conjoined twin with a foot in heaven and one in hell.
I am a geyser spewing out echoes from a stonewall well.
I am an open road stretched for miles paved with a murderous smile.
I am a man with a firm handshake who stands still on top of an earthquake.
I am a visionary man who slipped on fate and fell in love.
I am a preliminary hearing fallen on deaf ears.
I am the contribution to your retribution.
I am a person of depersonalization.
I am a one man army minus one man.
I am the desired taste of orange juice and toothpaste.
I am concentrated concentration.
I am the formation of your imagination.
I am the comma for your introductory clause.
I am the cause for your sudden pause.
I am the spatula that stirs up your anxiety.
I am the reaper who never leaves a clue.
I am the lace that always chokes the shoe.
I am the light that finds its way thru helping the little shrew.
I am the suburban white boy who sings the blues.
I am consistent inconsistency.
I am your assigned tour guide for your expiration exploration.

There is no honour where
thieves are concerned
skidaddling along Old Compton Street
pretending to be rich
striving to drink anything before lunch anything
on
the hoof
just so long as it’s over 40% proof
that’s important
or
drunk on the beach at
Playa Manzanillo
tumbling dice
touch of Midas
maybe the gold will rub off onto me
like pollen on a bee stuck to the legs
stuck to the fur
cribbage pegs
croupier blur
dealt a hand
relax with a mojito
hands clawed in the sand
cursing the might-have-beens
wishing for the might bes
chips one square out
90 degrees north
45 degrees south
the painted boats pulled up on the shoreline
Venezuelan Coastguard Launches
scouring the Windward Island monied coke lines
louche and free and slightly depraved
devil you do devil you don’t

and maybe

I should have done the dealing
instead of playing with what is dealt
career crossroad choices
casino neon
instead of
hot strand paper
Chinese lanterns many
spectral colours
remember Brazil?
‘Praia do Diabo!’
memories of London days
Oxford nights
Brooklyn JFK haze
Sao Paulo frights
chewing Samurai pizzas
watching a thunderstorm spewing rain
over Granada
on a boardwalk mozzarella sticky teeth
swordfish and octopus ink throw on
some red capsicum peppers
sliced like dragons tails
now that’s some pizza
dreams of blackjack and ***
high tail and lucky spots
working out my next move
on Isla de Margarita
remembering

what was the name of that bar
in Bayswater?

With the gambling room beneath-
old school, East Enderesque
not all are run by Chinese you know and
not that one run by Laotians from Vientiane either
no no no the other….one
and you wore that dress
covered in red sequins the one you slinked off
to the summer ball in Oriel in
the one in which
you shimmered and crossed dimensions
polymorphed through parallel branes
with legs to lick
******* to ****
later limbs akimbo
in the good old days of propitious spots and slam ships
when the moon was less lonely
and the ocean had less reservation
and me, well
I had all the luck.

In 2007, I wrote my first poem.
Life 1
It held two questions.
Questions I have yet to have a answer for.
I'll date it.
I'll quote it.
On December, 14th 2010,
I ask it again.
"Why is there so many racist?"
"What did that race ever do to you?"

I never knew how to feel,
When I watched Roots or Schlinders List.
Until I meet them face to face.
The racist of course
Spewing the racist words they worshiped.
****** and Monkey, I was called.
With black skin and african qualities,
Will earn you those titles.

In my head I wonder;
Should I hate whites because of the KKK?
Should I hate Germans because of the Nazis?
Should I hate Russians because of Stalin?
Should I hate Muslims because of Osama?
Should I hate my fellow Africans because of the corruption that rips Africa apart?
These questions rattle my head.

So once again I ask.
"Why is there so many racist?"
"What did that race ever do to you?"
Quoted.
Signed.
Dated.

Randy Wiafe
December, 14 2010.

(what the hell is an incel)

the media portrays one loser outcast
as every man, as if man is one
big-*** monolithic hivemind
spewing their loser germs everywhere

think we got too much time on our hands
at the checkpoint, selfies on various
landmark celebrating the evil dead
as the hero for the living, graffiti

I look good in leather, also I look
lovely in the blood of my enemies
the hate a multifaceted gem
in the cavern of my  predatory eyes

Would love you to join me in the unit
the machine’s got to roll until Friday
and then we can hatch our evil scheme
man I think I have too much time
on my hands

Writing out my every thought
For thousands of you I have bought
Your ink spilt on paper, forms such beautiful words
we could write amazing music, much like songbirds
You portray all my emotions
Which could fill many many  oceans
Your ink, it comes in a rainbow of colors
When reading your work my heart flutters
You are, always there when I fall
Help me, for we could build mountains quite tall
Free like a butterfly
You leave a trail for everyone nearby
Beauty in your gracious flight
You are the victor in every fight
Building a skyscraper
As your point dances across paper
Its as if you know everything
You make me wanna sing
You show a world of pure imagination
Proving the beauty of creation
Drawing the blood from my hand
To write stories of wonderland
You are like a bridge of communication
You do this with much confrontation
Spewing life's essence with every swift movement
But staying in the limelight
You shout so loud, without even speaking
brain matter leaking
Leaving every brow furled because
You control this whole **** world

Some people think that as an
Adult
I can be a tad rough
Rock solid skin
But as a
Child
I was exponentially
Worse

Kicked
Screamed
Cried
Teased
Scratched

A walking terror
My father deemed me
"Crab-Apple Lynn"


The neighbors would
Whisper
Of that horrid five-year-old
Girl
That would push and
Tackle
The boys down the street

And on the night
That I kicked my
Brother's friend in the
Groin
And he tumbled
Down the stairs
Word spread like
Wildfire
That Crab-Apple
Had struck again

Notorious bully
Walking with balled fists
Kicking over Lincoln Logs
Smashing Play-Doh sculptures
Sneezing purposefully
Spewing out green phlegm
And wiping the boogers
On fellow peers
Half-grinning
At their cries

Feared by all
But respect
Was the one thing
The miniature version of
Me
Could not earn

And despite my youth
Despite the over-sized chip on my shoulder
Tiny me
Found a way
To flip around
Turn a leaf
Turn a page
Turn a head

Completely change
Altogether

And suddenly
Crab-Apple disappeared
And Sarah grew in
View

It was as though
Somehow, someway
The little me knew that

Fear is worthless

.that's what the term: Slavic, implies... slave?! what?! not in my language, etymologically speaking... słowo, słowianin, word, Slav, respectively... i don't know where these quasi-Germanic peoples of the anglophone world get their ideas from, esp. from a, "missing" epsilon. wankers.

- and the main difference between a Slavic
language and a quasi-Germanic language
akin to English or French?
                   clarity of syllables,
   and a pivot on pseudo-Roman graphemes,
albeit not concentrated (for aesthetic
purposes) on crafting graphemes out
of vowels... more or less consonants...
English has this concept already...
   cheap as chips...
             prime **** of the shire
    (CH                                SH)
but the main difference is...
                            we don't use the surd
conundrum...
                e.g.?
                         ­        g'bur
                   syllable count: 2
                                  you say the first letter,
have a nanosecond pause and the second
syllable enters:  g'boor...
                   which is a word, roughly defined
as: someone who's boorish,
               a noun, not an adjective...
but in english?
                                   (g)nostic....
    wait...     diagnosis...
                            so like an electron clouds
surrounding a nucleus...
   (electrons do not exist in orbits,
clouds, quantum clouds to be precise,
they enter the antimatter dimension,
pop up and disappear in randomized
places, within a definite spatial complex
that constitutes what is known as
an atom)...
              too many ******* particulars
in the anglophone language...
         which is probably why i love it so
much...
        and because the englischzunge
has so many particular instances of
"correct" speech... and no diacritical
methodology... well...
                     hmm... a ******* rainbow of accents!
i love the Indian: bud bud... bud bud...
hearing it feels like riding a *******
camel over uneven ground... bud bud...
note - budwasserscheisse -
who, in their right state of mind -
ferments rice, and adds it to the fermentation
of barley?!
   o.k., the alternative... budscheissewasser...
take your pick...
    it appears that my original ambition
was to speak the native language better
than the natives...
   have i succeeded?
                  perhaps...
               god almighty and all that is
glorious about hell's pandemonium...
   i miss the trill of the R...
      either tongue numbing in English...
or a ******* hark in French...
but as i was sometime ago informed...
the French used to trill the R...
  they: rrrrrrroled the rattle and found
a snake...
                      trill? when you pass a breath
that slaps the tongue against your
hard palate...
                     like a rattlesnake...
   i'm so happy that it still exists in certain
languages...
        it's a hark in French,
             and a tongue numbing heimlich
maneuver in English...
like the tongue was injected with an
anesthetic borrowed from dentistry,
                or some other random *******.
- and yes, i couldn't learn French,
because i was already investing my efforts
and observational tactics in spotting
the oddities in English...
            surd-letters, a slack in syllable distinction...
you name it...
                            g'boor contra
                  (g)nostic....
                          ­    invited to a session
of psychiatric diagnostics...
             oh i speak the orthodox better than
the natives...
  the natives have to resort to slang...
or as i like to call their version "of events":
the **** of shlang.

p.s. but this is going to be an example
of where English, and French meat...
****, sorry... meet...

   a surname to exemplify:
   Trudeau...
           i'm not going to call the French
żabie udki (frog-thigh eaters),
i just call them the suffix eaters...
point blank... watch how this GH
   grapheme pops up, but is "invisible"
in the said, French surname...
   although...
                           see it?
   Trudeau...             now you don't!
******* that i am surrounding
spewing linguistic *******...
   even i'm starting to think:
                    neat observation,
well tailored for the given times of...
how do you censor an investigation
into grammar and phonetics?

p.p.s.
    and well know where the English
borrowed their notion of H as a surd...
bindi-Hindi...
                          'indi...
     '   (this denotes a surd,
**** it, leave the letter out) -
esp. in names, like Khahn -
                        some variation of Ghengis,
Khan...    i suspect...
      oh yeah... the macron above the vowel
looks plain ugly: Kān...
   the literate can't reconfigure that word...
they need two languages of the same
tongue... the optical (Khan)...
             and the phonetic (Kān)...
look at you pretty people...
           you're bilingual already!

Lennon told me Paul was strawberry
George reminded me love trumps lord
Overboard overcome overwrought
Flower child fishtailed dovelike all aboard
Come together
Get yourself together
Soldered together
Like joint dance banners painted to promote teenage ******* to youth
Tied us into our best days ahead of us
Chained to our ***** we swung like gamers
Untied to our integrity
Wrecking wreaking havoc
Ballooned on hubris
Hemorrhaging ego unlocked spewing spite
I respect good works deeds above good intentions
Road paved with broken glass
Don’t respect me when I’m gone
Tell the folks it’s OK to sing along
Let’s spend the night together
Talk all night in the altogether
Rather gather in clover and heather
Happy Ringo’s nest a featherbed
Laying lady laid cunning linguist
‘xplain to me in chiefly straight talk
Who questions whom?

[Intro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
I can't tell you what it really is
I can only tell you what it feels like
And right now it's a steel knife in my windpipe
I can't breathe but I still fight while I can fight
As long as the wrong feels right it's like I'm in flight
High off a love, drunk from my hate,
It's like I'm huffing paint and I love it the more I suffer, I suffocate
And right before I'm about to drown, she resuscitates me
She ******* hates me and I love it.
Wait! Where you going?
"I'm leaving you!"
No you ain't. Come back we're running right back.
Here we go again
It's so insane cause when it's going good, it's going great
I'm Superman with the wind at his back, she's Lois Lane
But when it's bad it's awful, I feel so ashamed I snapped
Who's that dude?
"I don't even know his name."
I laid hands on her, I'll never stoop so low again
I guess I don't know my own strength

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
You ever love somebody so much you can barely breathe when you're with 'em
You meet and neither one of you even know what hit 'em
Got that warm fuzzy feeling
Yeah, them chills you used to get 'em
Now you're getting ******* sick of looking at 'em
You swore you'd never hit 'em; never do nothing to hurt 'em
Now you're in each other's face spewing venom in your words when you spit them
You push, pull each other's hair, scratch, claw, bit 'em
Throw 'em down, pin 'em
So lost in the moments when you're in them
It's the rage that took over it controls you both
So they say you're best to go your separate ways
Guess that they don't know you 'cause today that was yesterday
Yesterday is over, it's a different day
Sound like broken records playing over but you promised her
Next time you show restraint
You don't get another chance
Life is no Nintendo game
But you lied again
Now you get to watch her leave out the window
Guess that's why they call it window "pain"

[Chorus - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

[Verse - Eminem:]
Now I know we said things, did things that we didn't mean
And we fall back into the same patterns, same routine
But your temper's just as bad as mine is
You're the same as me
But when it comes to love you're just as blinded
Baby, please come back
It wasn't you, baby it was me
Maybe our relationship isn't as crazy as it seems
Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano
All I know is I love you too much to walk away though
Come inside, pick up your bags off the sidewalk
Don't you hear sincerity in my voice when I talk
Told you this is my fault
Look me in the eyeball
Next time I'm ******, I'll lay my fist at the drywall
Next time? There will be no next time!
I apologize even though I know its lies
I'm tired of the games I just want her back
I know I'm a liar
If she ever tries to ******* leave again
Im'a tie her to the bed and set this house on fire
I'm just gonna

[Outro - Rihanna:]
Just gonna stand there and watch me burn
But that's alright because I like the way it hurts
Just gonna stand there and hear me cry
But that's alright because I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie
I love the way you lie

You may have torn me apart
Undressed me
For all your pleasure
Sang me a lullaby
To get your way
You are a devil in disguise.
Spewing lies as a natural language
The language of deceitful, cunning lies

The hell you put inside of me
I want out
But you don’t have the key do you
I’m trapped within myself
So you’re not the devil are you?
But the devils help.
The only devil lives with me,
Everyday.  **And you don’t even know.

i still can't get my head around
one particular term...

   how can islamophobia join
the legion of other, irrational fears?

what is irrational about the
"so-called", "irrational" (fear is too
strong a word) caution with
regards to Islam?

what a disgusting term...
  i thought that Islam had some rationale
implicit within its marble mosque
walls?

       arachnophobia is a phobia
precisely because it is irrational -
and it's funny -
     first of all:
  phobia come with a reflexive
rather than a reflective position -
a reflex reaction
akin to someone who has
arachnophobia upon spotting
a tiny spider, or walking into
a thick, single thread of spiderweb
in the garden...

it's a double artifact of
a fear:
   it is actually irrational to have
an "irrational" fear of an ideology -
but it is rational to fear
cloning - esp. cloning that is
not granted to some Rockefeller,
who can clone himself,
and son his future "self"...

oh yeah: cloning was around way before
the sciences caught up...
after all: the genetic cognitive
structure / device was in place,
intact within / as the Quran...
now? plenty of ******* clones walking
about, spewing the same ****
most of the time...

  an irrational fear...
    "Islamophobia" is most certainly
a rational fear...
          it's not a funny fear either,
plus it has no reflexive potency -
i don't exactly experience
     a reflexive reaction of immediate
fear seeing a Muslim...
but i sometimes entertain
a reflexive reaction with a spider...

it's a reflective fear,
hence it's not automated, purely ******...
you know what:
i'm not even going to style this
as a goldfish argument...
i'm not into calling anyone stupid:
but paying attention
to certain grammatical restrictions
of words?
  is a bit like 1 + 1 = 2 restrictions
of logic...

   too much rationality of a distant
cousin went into Islam...
   i can't exactly call upon God to tell
me my irrational reaction
to whatever rationality went into
creating a spider...
             a spiderweb is no rational
argument as to why i'm not afraid
of four legged creatures much
larger than me...

               six legs is a bit whacky -
at least we know what exploration
looks like, under a microscope
of the insect / virus / parasitic lens -
not much fun, noting the fact that
outside of this world?
   things... of that sort of nature:
could sure as **** be much bigger...

ah...
   so maybe my arachnophobia is
rational after all:
  within the confines of the possibility
of reaching a variant of
this habitable planet,
and finding enlarged variations of
my irrational disgust for something
with six legs?
   or is it eight?

     so why am i not prone to a Semitic
phobia?
      quiet honestly i'm a
Semitephile...
   and last time i heard,
some Egyptian was telling me that
he was also a Semite...
   go figure... Egyptians are
the sort of wandering folk that
put their ******* pyramids into
caravans, brick by brick...
walk around the world and
rebuild their pyramids whenever
they go...
   notably in the Himalayas -
or the Alps... to compete with
those mountains' heights!

THERE IS NO, ISLAMOPHOBIA...
it's a fake term...
  and also a fake phenomenon -
what it is, is an incomprehensible
res per se: a noumenon -
a thing in itself, by people who use
the term to begin with...

    there is nothing erratic -
   reflexive about this phobia -
it's a meditated -
reflective fear as a cautionary /
anticipatory fear -
again: too strong a word -
apprehension -
   and the people who are,
"supposedly", "islamophobic":
have put in place measures
to not feel as constantly being
on the edge of their seats...

after all... some sort of logic went
into Islam...
some reason...
   some rationality...
         as interpreted by people
other than me...
   i can't call upon a God to explain
to me the rationality of
the irrationality i place in my
sometimes fear of spiders...
sure, there is a rationality of a spider,
however vague,
or mundane within the vector of
eat, or be eaten...

    but the rationality placed within
a spider, that explains my
irrational fear of them?
   funny as ****...

  as in that bible one-liner:
eat of this tree,
   and you will know the difference
between
              ∇HWH      &
    ΔHMH...
                          i guess no one in Rugby
really thought about the origins
of the sport in terms of the goal posts,
thinking of the Hebrew deity
in name (two names) only?

so... as a "Latin" man (evidently
the language might be dead,
but i'm not writing in ᚱᚢᚾᛖᛋ,
  most certainly) -
i can only be - either
antisemitic - or islamophobic?
  
      and Egyptians are Semites?!
the ****?!
             this topic has been drilled
into the ground...
   but as someone who has
bouts of arachnophobia,
i thought i'd move into a territory
outside the ideological
argument...
or the argument from the basis
of ideology...

       i thought it would be
much more productive to explain
the concept of phobias...
and... however you look at it...
no ideology is irrational...
   because an ideology that is,
irrational, is no coherent,
and has no propaganda...
            
what a load of crock ****!

queer creature of white stone:
the spirit of the island in the head of this lion,
the soul of the natives in the body of this fish,
spirit and soul, lion and fish, mingle together by
mere wry humour of evolution’s word

we revere this beast, (it watches over us
from nine metres above), we bow down our backs,
(worship it as our exemplar): for many of us,
unknowingly, we emulate the spirit and soul
of this queer white creation of stone.

standing tall (unshaken!) even as jaundice bolts of heaven’s
creep tip-toed behind its scales and strike:
its cemented steadfastness of stone we emulate,
for through the towering grey waves of crisis, and
the threatening dark clouds that foretell our very fears,
we too, have floated and transcended and appeared
unscathed.

mutated monster – child of bad genes,
they despise such unfavourable antagonistic features
(shall it rule like a lion or flail like a fish?):
its unlikeliness of surviving, of thriving we emulate:
for this dotted smudge of red pen ink on the globe,
destined to bow down to fate – bowed down not, and
flourished.

beams of white water spouting out in a
perfect shape of a quadrant’s circumference, endlessly,
its majestic spewing action we emulate:
this island of expectations, sterile smell of success,
fate of our future in the setting of an exam hall,
(in there do you not think we resemble the merlion,
our mouths the hoses, the papers our well?)

but, oh, the merlion – so many of it –
the merlions, same-maned, same-scaled,
fluttering and bursting with imitation across our home:
such congruity, conformity we emulate:
for years of yearning to swim in the mainstream waters,
of being goldfish, instead of losing the waters for flight like flying fish,
have made us very much, about
the same.

queer creature of white stone:
do you see not how we resemble your very self,
how we offer you praise (by
lifting our human arms, arching on our mere knees,
hoisting our lowly mortal heads, surveying your colossal royalty,
camera in hand)?

Waking up to hazy mornings.
To the bitter cold days of
Early Spring.

I've never seen such a beautiful sunrise.

Nine o' clock cigarettes during
The morning rush.
Saturday morning cigarettes
That muddle my head.
The chilly air mimics the smoke
Spewing from my lips,
Toxins sticking to my lungs
Like glue.

It's another day in Paradise.

The dishes in the sink
Pile up in mountains.
Like the skyscraper laundry stack
Overflowing in the hamper.

Just another day in Paradise.

The street lamps glisten as strings of pearls
Their light reflecting off the silver glare of traffic barrels.

The flowers have not arrived.
The flowers have not bloomed,
And the anxiety is killing me.
Killing me like the coffee craving
Pounding in my head.
The flowers are missing,
Hiding from the stinging cold
Of early Spring.

I've never seen such beautifully dismal skies.

In the mild conversations about the weather,
I tell them that it's never been better.
In a way, it's never been.

I walk down the battleground of sidewalk
And tree roots, the slabs of concrete
cracked and marred by Mother Nature's
Will.
Broken etchings of hopscotch
Blur on the gritty surface, besides
The rose bush peeking out through the
Fence.

They'll never fix these.

Because it's another day in Paradise.

I found a four leaf clover hoping it would help me write
But I just kept writing haikus and other short, miserable *****
So I made a big spit about vanity, and how all other poets were lame
Spewing all my most petulant thoughts, and in time, soiling my name

But although I'm now seen as a fool,
a sad, childish, pathetic clown
I'm still trying to pretend I'm cool
And attempting to bring you all down

Education never made it passed basic spelling
But I still hope to write words at least somewhat compelling
It's unfair and you ****, all your words are so old
Stay away from my rainbow and my *** of gold!

I cut myself to see how much I will bleed,
And watch as little bubbles of rubies fall from the flesh.
They swim so slowly across the open air, they are life giving bubbles.
And fall into infinity as they wash into the depths of the ocean floor, my shower.
As the waves of precious rocks begin to cease.
I press hard against the current to make the waves come back to life.
Giving life to watch my own fade away.
Of course this one crack in the surface of the world is never enough.
And so the earthquakes and new ruptures burst onto the surface.
It's just nature taking it's course.
The land trembles and somethings happens to rip open.
Spewing out boulders not bubbles.
They don't slowly sweep across the skin.
Nor do they float down into the depths below.
But spew out quickly and slam down into the ocean floor, my shower.
Turning clear into murky.
Changing the pure face of water into tainted minerals.
These waves will never stop.
Until the source they came from is gone as well.

All these whinging intellectual poetic wankers,
scribbling Conditional Love "poems"that boringly
lament why they are such obvious  failures
at the game of life and self realisation.
Spewing out weasel words of poetic hypocracy while
wrapped in navel gazing infantile emotions.
Writing degenerate untruthful words about a love
they'll never know or never have known,
as if unconditional love can be bought
at the local Walmart.
Voluntarily assisting the machinations of mind and groupmind,
since their birth into a lifetime of Conditioned Identity,
in the servitude of the Amerikan Oligarchy .
Strings of meaningless associated words,
lines of lies about life and love that are ever popular with "poets".
Starting with every one of the so-called "holy" books
from millennia past--calling for suicide bombers
and child killers to strut the world stage
spewing  religious racism and sexism like enlightened beings..
After all words have NO SHAME
nor have poets..
Sin Verguensa.
Words have NO GUILT
nor have poets.
Words have NO EMBARASSMENT
nor have poets.
You cannot hide  behind your lies from me.
I see you--I have nous.
Your beard is transparent.
Your unceasing lies deny to others information
to which they are entitled,
"poets" are the worst LIARS of all,
so easily spottable .
Read these pages--see for yourself,
through my eyes .
See the silly ****-fed children of the Amerikan Oligarchy,
wrapped in spangles and colours --posturing like super-heroes.
Vomiting verbal diahorea in lifes gutters,
appealing for just one more chance
to play at love and humiliation.
People with low IQs and lower morals
pretending ,as always, to be mature and human,
characters moulded like products of talk show hosts .
No integrity.
No truthfulness.
No honour.
No decency.
No morals except those learned from Readers Digest.
No to these escapees from the gallows of decency,
torture instruments dangling round their necks,
their prophet validated by being nailed and denied.

I sat in the shadows
as the sun went down,
eavesdropped
on my passing neighbors.
The lady couple went by first,
holding hands
& kissing,
whispering about the rising moon.

Then came the hetero-couple.
He walked in front,
leaving her behind
as if leading her
on a primrose path.
He was laughing,
spewing words
about
******* lezbos.
She was still in tow
when she spotted me
& flipped me off.
I thought, what a lovely couple.
Not.

Sleep is timed to the minute,
my breaths let out lazy smoke
icicles make goose bumps into paragraphs
books written on my arms through yellow mist
bare feet in the morning on my rooftops
counting international planes in the sky.

My migrant bones take to the sky,
each moderate minute
that passes by on my rooftops,
increases the rawness of smoke
like lung-fulls of lemon mist
spewing a nebula of paragraphs.

In the murk of paragraphs
red papery ashes explode into the sky
leaving a cloud of syllable mist.
The last fragile minute
reduces my shivers to smoke,
a winter shell of shoulders on rooftops.

Double exposed film across rooftops
turn silhouettes into paragraphs,
a congregation of vapours and smoke
speaking soliloquies into the sky.
I am minute,
dissipating into canary mist.

Billows of ocean mist
make my fingers melancholy on rooftops
where a tidal minute
freezes salty foam paragraphs
a vacation from the sky,
my mossy perch and violet smoke.

Heliotropic smoke
spirals against dense mist;
fine rain blinding the sky
soaking lemonade rooftops.
My bed of paragraphs
curls into an illegible minute.

The lilac smoke in my eyes is almost minute.
A mustard mist wrinkles the paragraphs,
like the purple sky dropping over the rooftops.

pain demands to be felt..
that is why you let break ups feel like shards of glass piercing through your skin,
"i was using you" feel like acid being pumped through your heart ventricles spewing liquid anguish through your veins
you let the memories consume your very existance so all that is left is the skin he once touched, the lips he once kissed and the emotions he still controls..
yes, pain does demand to be felt

but you see, i am pain.
i embody every syllable of that painful word..pain
i am every lie woven intricately into the seams of the pillow used to cushion the blows i inflict.
i leave you trapped in the very depths of  your mind, made easy by your naive attempt of grasping onto the words used to lure you in, i love you

i am the whispers of motivation urging you to sniff sniff sniff your way deeper into my domain where you are nothing but a chess piece in a battle not easily won.
i am the deep seated hunger that devours any sign of "happy"..the breaking, smashing, burning of hope
i am a master of deceit, carefully manipulating your thoughts through the simple tug of a string, i am your master.

but I was not born like this,
I became it..so if you really think about it,
I am love, because love was the reason I became pain.
this may be confusing, but once again think about it..

love demands to be felt...
that is why you sit smiling awkwardly at your phone,
why you get butterflies..I mean the whole **** zoo in your stomach when he looks your way,
you let your feelings consume your very existence until all that is left of you is the hand he holds so tight, the hair he moves away from your face and the heart you laid right out for him...
yes, love demands to be felt..

but you see, I once was love..
I embodied every syllable of that beautiful word love
I was the roof over-head when the storms of life came thundering by,
I was anything you needed me to be because at the end of the day I didn't want to be anything if I didn't have you.
So I let myself go, I became my own foe
just so you could have that shoulder, I mean that extra soul to lean on

you kept taking and never giving,
this one sided love became toxic
I took one look at myself and realised that I didn't know who was staring back at me..
much like how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly,
but the reverse, I began to shrink.
the butterflies turned to moths, the smiles to tears and soon enough,
love became pain,
and they both demand to be felt.

You are a volcano
Spewing bitter ashes
Your lips are scarred with blisters
You choke on molten lava

You are a tornado
A black and angry funnel
Touching down with vengeance
Wreaking black destruction

Every time I'm in your path
You try to burn and break me
Scorch my skin with accusations
Annihilate my existence

You clearly fail to understand
That while you erupt and storm
The things your wrath devours
Are all inside of you

You are a volcano
You are a tornado
You are my beloved child
You are my force of nature

I hope someday that you will find
Refreshing rains and cooling breezes
You are the maker of weather
I am the eye of the storm.

This is one American that drops beats, not bombs
This is one American that admits when she’s wrong.
But an ocean doesn’t divide us
Only you divide us
With your words for labels that say what’s you, not me
Your stereotypes are gunna be the death of me
You’re killing me with these close-minded philosophies
And Who the hell ever said you were the referee of me?

We gotta spend less time sneering and swearing
We gotta spend less time jeering and tearing

You should never have to defend when you love
You should never have to defend why you love
You should never have to defend who you love

We are all created equal;
That’s the condition of the receiver
And we are all the receivers
But some keep spewing that hate; those hate-believers

But we don’t accept their judgment upon us
We gotta rise up out of adversity placed on us

Some out there will go to their graves justifying
Committing acts based on fear is nothing but mortifying
And I’m gunna be truthful; I’m not even lying
When your preach your *******, the human race is dying.

You see United this house stands strong
Every new hand we hold pushes us along
Every brick makes us higher
Acceptance makes us flyer

Gotta keep hate out of your heart
And maybe then we’ll get to start
To come together
To love one another
And to be free like it is intended
Maybe then the human race will be mended
Maybe then this bad movie will get a better sequel
Maybe then we’ll realize We are all created equal.

I want to stop it all
To go into a free-for-all
To rip those signs apart
To take that hate from that heart
All I can do is spread the word on love
And hope to God that will be enough
All I can do is be me and let you be you
All I can do is all I can do
But together we can appreciate
That all together we can officiate
Love that knows no bounds
That type of harmony with unreal sounds.

We may measure success by what’s published
We may measure it by what’s re-said
By how much money we make
By the course that we take
But one thing I know that will bring us deliverance
All that matters is that one voice that says
You make a ******* difference.

(Where I worked, they set up TV’s in the cafeteria to watch the continuing coverage of the events of 9/11. I had become known as a sort of poet and many asked me to write something, a poem about 9/11. In the printed version which I handed out to people, they translated into their language the word ‘******’ and into the poem. The company did not like it cause they wanted to whip up the patriotic jingoism and calls for revenge. Thankfully this poem helped to stop this at this factory.)  

911 Thoughts

“Our grief is not a cry for war”
--Artists Network, Refuse & Resist

“..and the poets down here
don’t write nothing at all,
they just stand back
and let it all be”
–‘Jungle Land’, by B. Springsteen


“Beto nki tutasala” (‘What are we doing’)
--Old African saying


New York City 9/11/01:
She walks down the street
numb
peering side to side
pausing,
showing his picture to everyone who looks.
Tears streak her brown skin
as the reality of his loss
sinks deeper in,
yet searching, as if just looking
will make him appear by her side
an ease the vacuum of why that
echoes mockingly in her heart.
~~~
Friends have asked me,
write a poem about these events, Red.
Write about 911,
and the horror from the sky.
Tell us what you think.
Can you give us some hope
that when the dust
and tears
settle from our eyes,
we will still be able to see the sun.
How?
What words can I use to describe
or even surmise all the reasons why.
How do you explain to your grand kids
the war has come home.
They have put us in harms way.

New York City, 9/11/01
Yes the ‘war’ has come home
so many innocents have paid
a blood price for a
globalized monster
grown, nurtured, raised
in the dark soils of the USA.

Southern Iraq, 9/8/01
U.S. and British ghosts
swoop down on a ‘radar installation’
that turns mysteriously into a village.
8 civilians known dead,
many others injured.

Baghdad Iraq. 2/91
Clutching her injured child to her breast,
she flees collapsing buildings
while thunder surrounds her,
she is looking frantically for shelter
from ‘smart rain’
pouring down from the night sky.
Explosions that almost drown out her
screams.
Screams for a lost generation;
how do you rebuild a generation?

West Bank / Gaza, Any day
Young comrades pick thru
blood soaked rubble of once homes
looking for survivors of
‘made in the USA’ helicopter terror.
Or picking up stones to fight off
‘made in the USA’ tanks
spewing out ‘collective punishment’
needed for new Israeli settlements.

Beirut Lebanon, 1980
Safely, miles out to sea,
the USS New Jersey
spits out salvo after salvo
painting the city with fire storms.
Thousands die, thousands more
made refugees in their own country
punished for harboring
Palestinian refugees who refuse to
recognize ‘stolen land’
now claiming to be Israel.

New York City, 9/11/01
The view of passenger jets
lingers in our vision.
Over and over they seem to play with,
dance,
then mingle with those towers
until only twisted steel,
burnt flesh,
and crumbled cement remains
creating a mass grave.


Vietnam, 1970
The village explodes.
Children running
naked
flesh singed, burnt
burning
as liquid fire drops
from high flying 52's.
******; an English word
which in Vietnamese, Chinese or Khmer
Means DEATH!
(Imagine here the words for death in Chinese, Vietnamese and Khmer.)


Hiroshima / Nagasaki, 1945
150,000 human beings now only shadows
seared into the concrete,
human outlines
that still scream their agony
heard even today by anyone
who doesn’t have selective amnesia.

New York City, 9/11/01
What words can explain the loss
of loved ones, friends?
What words can capture
the vacant look of the black woman
seeking her young daughter
who had her very first job interview
on the 104th floor?
What emotions are left
after the search for loved ones
finds only gray dust and charred stench
whether in New York or:
Baghdad, Beirut, Belgrade, Gaza,
Chile, Guatemala, El Salvador, My Lai,
Sudan, or Mogadishu?
What can prepare you for the
sickening sweet scent of
burnt flesh carried on lazy breezes;
of dust coating everything with
the stink of human blood?

~~~~~

And now there is talk of
And preparation for:
Retribution
Justice
Retaliation.
More words that the people of
the world understand all too well:
DEATH! (The words for death in Chinese, Vietnamese, Hindi, Urdu, Ctujarati, and Khmer are not formating when I cut and paste. Imagine them here.)
MUERTE! DEATH!

~~~~~

Every day now the powers that be
prepare us for even more untold horrors;
hype us with red, white and blue views.
Pass on to us today’s NEWS:
“Congress passed new war legislation today”;
“unnamed sources report that”
“a high government official who wishes to remain anonymous”;
“the word at the White House”;
SPECULATIONS: there are 50 governments that harbor or support terrorism.
Several undocumented Arabs have been arrested trying to buy illegal chemicals
INNUENDO: known terrorist are said to have links to Afghanistan.
RUMOR: the next attacks could come as early as 9/22;
Air Force One was threatened today;
terror may come in the form of chemical or biological;
All the conjectures ‘fit to be news’;
Bin Laden is the one, Iraq, Iran,
somebody in the Sudan,
someone, somewhere has to be made to pay.
Conjecture pumped out continuously
24/7
why, we got it straight from heaven
so it must be true!

~~~~~

New York City, Aftermath
For many the future is hard to imagine,
uncertainty weighs heavy
like an echo that bounces endlessly
off tenement walls.
Like the way the “WHY’S”
multiply with each official explanation
and grows from whispers to amplified
crescendos of NOOOOOOOO! NO!
Not in our name.
You cannot exploit our grief,
our sorrow for so many lost lives
into your “holy war of retribution”;
into your vision of “Homeland Security”
and more repressive police powers;
into your call for Justice envisioned as an
Americanized world.
The people of our planet
do not need another
unjust war. And yet,
as long as this system continues,
as long as organized greed,
backed up by Washington bullets reign,
these horrors will continue to
rain from the skies.


Afghanistan, 10/07/01
Today the bombing began.
More horror fell from the sky
as talk of even more countries, people
are added to the “suspected list”.
One thing is sure, those hundreds,
thousand who have already died
had nothing to do with 9/11.
How long?
How many more will die
before we put it to an end?

~~redzone 10.04.01~~ (edited 10/07/01)
(written while using the pen name 'redzone'
reposted by Aztec Warrior 11.18.15)

Lettuce is love, lettuce is life.
You walked up to McDonald's and ordered a mcdouble
I was behind you in line, looking for some trouble
I said, "excuse me sir, you know mcdoubles don't have lettuce, right?"
He said, "yes, but I can't eat lettuce at this time of night"
I was getting angry at this point, not gonna lie
I was like, "come on buddy give it a try"
He started backing away, a little intimidated
The farther away he went, the more I felt the hatred
How can he not want lettuce?
This dude's real close to getting fought
The cashier interrupted my thought
"I can get who's next in line"
I said, "cool, I'll take a McChicken, it's a bite of heaven
Actually I take that back, I want eleven"
You already know i didn't buy them for the chicken
I bought them for the lettuce, it's tasty finger lickin'
The cashier says "is that all I can get you tonight?"
I turned back to her said "naw, gimme a medium Sprite"
Got my drink and my McChickens, then tried find this guy to fight
He's at a table munching on his mcdouble by himself
I caught him looking enviously at my McChicken, lettuce spewing out health
I sat down at the booth beside him
Told him how I despise him
For not getting lettuce, how could one be so arrogant?
I threw a punch to his face hard enough to leave a dent
He yelled out in pain, tryna run away
The cashier notified me that the police were on their way
My fate was inevitable, but I did it for lettuce
It's been 3 years now, been locked up ever since
Lettuce makes me happier than ever, it's my only friend
My favorite thing in the world, nothing and no one can contend
Moral of this story: get lettuce on your sandwich,
Unless you wanna go to mcdonalds and end up with a bandage
I can finally conclude, after this long strife
Lettuce is love, lettuce is life.