A drive-by piercing with a lemon going haywire
Some day-old sushi seen floating in a milk shake
Biplanes soaring on a river made of goldfish
Hamsters running like a maggot being stepped on
T-Birds flying on a highway made of spike strips
A sleeper hold keeping pleasure from the culprit
High-speed boats with Bond at the Olympics
A Cheshire cat that is famous for his slow wit
A hands-free call using carrots as a pitchfork
Motel 6 giving buckets full of sunshine
A loser shakes when he’s calling for a train wreck
Two horned-toad dogs seek pleasure from a princess
Pineapples dance on a table made of tall grass
Swimming pools run like the nostrils of a cokehead
Lawnmowers chase televisions made of chocolate
A headrest pops like a package full of mayonnaise
Full moon falling like a stock that’s made of pennies
Some ring-toss games using members as a target
Horse-drawn buggies have turtles for a driver
Captain Crunch cracks three teeth with his product
Unicorn strippers charge nothing for a snow cone
A fig tree shoots his rifle like a marksman
Time-lapse photos lend credence to a journey
A night jog leading to the starting of a win streak
Cotton ***** fighting like the heart of a palm tree
Rabbit holes filled with a rocket made of red glare
Alien red giants just as sure as I am breathing
A high-speed rail system travels without leaving
Lamborghinis resting on a bed of melting ice cream
Then there’s a cuckoo clock riding on a white mink
I saw a cowboy yesterday atop a pile of hay
Leaches lurking everywhere really like to play
Red newspaper taxis burn at the pole in June
Hearts of gold at harvest time, hear my drum in tune
Playing in the band was my only decent goal
Rake, a shovel, and a pick dig working with a ***        
Prince without a pauper will rise from down below
Hot tamales drop like hail the radar never showed
Squids sign a new record deal using their own ink
Octomom wants it all; such ***** I’ve never seen

And I heard my name called throughout the sea
Until my fore thoughts banished me
Into the harsh evergreen
My dreams seem to flow and vanish
In and out of light
Darkness wraps around me,
And bright were my eyes
But all things must go.
Even the brightest of stars must die
And fade into the sky
To make room for another
Like you or I.

****, this coffee's really sour
I've been drinking it for half an hour
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem
Wanna hear a poem about a cauliflower

[Cauliflower's foolish
It doesn't fit the theme
I'm sick of all your nonsense
I'm tired of your memes]

Woman selling knickknacks
I'm not eating tic-tacs™
Your words were put in brackets
Check out my rhyming tactics

I see that you're not one for fun
Your a cloudy day, I'm the shining sun
My absurdity
Is the key
To happy for eternity

[You're clearly deeply broken
And only you can cure
Your fundamental problems
But really I'm not sure

The only one who conquers
Is one who really tries
So stop with the gorillas
Since everything will die]

Maybe you don't understand
My foolishness goes hand in hand
With making things that are the best
Like giant squids and turnip fests

Order, chaos, streets and bogs
Them, White, Color, Talking Frog
Odd on top but clear below
From ash and fire life will grow

Then again I see it's true
I am right and so are you
Maybe we both have a claim
In this crazy poet game

[x_x
Okay]

That didn't rhyme!

[It doesn't have to]

I love you

[Mmm hmm]

"The elephant seal is an unsightly creature.
I heard it today on TV
Then a special on smart and wonderful dolphins
Who never would wish to be me"

"All this rubbery ******* I use for a face
That my mother just says she adores
Is a hideous masking of elephantine proportions
That nobody else could afford"


You're not ugly, oh dear elephant seal!
You are mountains more graceful than that
Don't ever wish you were a rabbit
A turtle, a dog, or a curious cat

So a parrot can talk,
But it gets him in trouble
And a hamster is cuddly
But untidy--makes his home in the rubble

Sure, you haven't got fur
but you haven't got mange!
You're *****-and-span as your ocean
Your sea home-on-the-range

And your nose is real big
But you've never been nosey
You are much too polite
To make others un-cozy

I have watched you go swimming
You're majestic as waves
And you love to explore
All the watery caves

You have beautiful eyes
And I think you're just swell
Look, someday, you'll be happy
You'll be so proud as well

"Well I guess I am funny
I like to make friends
I've gotten good at catching squids
And other popular trends"

See--that's just the spirit!
You're as magnificent as any
But what makes you so great?
You're more humble than many

Out on the horizon
A line of glowing green
And the squids all flock towards it
That flourescent glean

What is it to them do you think?
An unknown beacon emitting warmth
Do they think they'll find love
As they all commute north

I suppose they are tricked and trapped and tangled in nets
Blinded by the light
Drawn towards the threat
From the green glowing beacon
Their path was set
Into the end and out of the wet.

Vietnam, you uncovered my soul
Gave me a song, a direction smog
Looked at the pandora box I held
Unstripped my flames up temples

A hologram of the graded existence
Seasoned in explosions of burnt haste
Decked on buses,ducked in valleys
Chilled bays, overly paddled kayaks

Such sweet taste of the Halong bay
Undreamt mist of the skies stared
Fishing squids and bellied jellyfish
The soil, the sound,an orotund playlist

We'd found an old Boche dug-out, and he knew,
And gave us hell, for shell on frantic shell
Hammered on top, but never quite burst through.
Rain, guttering down in waterfalls of slime,
Kept slush waist-high and rising hour by hour,
And choked the steps too thick with clay to climb.
What murk of air remained stank old, and sour
With fumes of whizz-bangs, and the smell of men
Who'd lived there years, and left their curse in the den,
If not their corpses...


                                    There we herded from the blast
Of whizz-bangs, but one found our door at last,
Buffeting eyes and breath, snuffing the candles,
And thud! flump! thud! down the steep steps came thumping
And sploshing in the flood, deluging muck -
The sentry's body; then his rifle, handles
Of old Boche bombs, and mud in ruck on ruck.
We dredged him up, for killed, until he whined
'O sir, my eyes - I'm blind, - I'm blind, I'm blind!'
Coaxing, I held a flame against his lids
And said if he could see the least blurred light
He was not blind; in time he'd get all right.
'I can't' he sobbed. Eyeballs, huge-bulged like squids',
Watch my dreams still; but I forgot him there
In posting Next for duty, and sending a scout
To beg a stretcher somewhere, and flound'ring about
To other posts under the shrieking air.


                                               *
Those other wretches, how they bled and spewed,
And one who would have drowned himself for good, -
I try not to remember these things now.
Let dread hark back for one word only: how
Half-listening to that sentry's moans and jumps,
And the wild chattering of his broken teeth,
Renewed most horribly whenever crumps
Pummelled the roof and slogged the air beneath, -
Through the dense din, I say, we heard him shout
'I see your lights!' But ours had long died out.

How much i love it,

she knows well,

eyes curiously down-

at me eating squid;

the eight armed cephalopod,

soft and dainty to eat,

in more ways than one,

now spread eagled in my front,

"I could eat you too

if you wish" I banter,

she looks at me mischievously as if

it's more than a joke,

and shakes head.

"Would I be as dainty

as such a fish?" she asks,

as if she is serious to get an answer,

flashing those expressive eyelashes,

clearly in a way I can see what it means!

"Yes, bilateral symmetry I have,

but not eight arms, is it okey?"

She knows all about my tastes,

(who would, if she doesn't?)

squids, octopus and the like

and clams...ooh, i love them, so much

bit sticky stuff, yes I like to mess up a bit,

that way, isn't it exciting?

I relish, squid and cuttle fish,

till I am fully satisfied.

Was she a fish in my waters?

To tell you the secret: she wasn't.

she was an octopus!

wily? yes, but lovable.

who strung me with,

her soft, supple tentacles!

Imposing her sweet wishes

on my senses,

eventually her wishes

become my commands,

to the end,

till she asks,

no more.
     )O(

If you wanna be the same,
be the same with me --
I swear we’ll always
blend right in.

And when you say
you don’t like Jaws,
I'll still be a Peeping Tom
behind your books.

When you lie, Maggie-Pie,
about the movies you’ve seen,
it makes the Tom Waits you like
seem contrived.

Degenerate drug kids,
too high to be a star,
in love with moments.

Give me my moments,
my lifeless promise
to always have a car
and insurance.

If you wanna be lazy,
be lazy with me --
I swear we won’t
ever do ****.

And when you bop
your head to Kendrick,
I’ll watch you melt
underneath the strobe.

Place your finger on a globe,
tell me where you think
you could be, then tell me
about your perceived
self-worth.

Degenerate punk kids,
with more ink than squids,
and a tip-jar future.

Give me my future,
my hurried ten years;
you know my twenties;
you know my reason.

Give me my reason,
give me my reason, give me my reason.

I'm not worthy
of his
total affection adoration enthrallment
it isn't fair for him, truthfully, to have the one
who is scared of all that.
terrified to not be the girl who
belongs to everyone & no one at once
the girl who is writhing
trying to hold tight & strangle
the guilt grief regret shame
but also driven by
anxiety that all my writing
suddenly needs to tell everyone
that I am trying & anxiety
that I am so moved by him, the
affected girl who can't
function
walking into the sunset hand in hand.
I seem to fight every step
as if I'm not sure
I feel safe
being near the ocean that lets roam unchained & wild the
sharks, giant squids, leviathans & my beloved giant leatherback sea turtles
so endangered & dear.
The anxiety of the surprise contract to
dedicate every poem to him
& plan a future
without planning an end, too.

He’s journeyed many a treacherous route, scuttled ancient-ships,
ridden the skyscraper-troughs of crystal-seas, hunted enemies,
alone.

He’s guided by the lamps of the Heavens, the countless stars,
the sun and the moon, calculated the astrolabe,
alone.

He’s braved hurricane winds, the triangles of Bermuda, windless days,
leviathans & squids, scavenging whites and other such hungry things,
alone.

He’s got the strength of a Goliath, keeps his tenderness guarded under lock and skeleton-key,
his wounds bleed forever in the brokenness of a self-induced solitary confinement,
alone.

He’s the truest mariner, fights black-tempests within, protects himself from overexposure,
from another broken heart,
alone.

Let's not make any bones about it,
For I have no bones to pick.
Ah, and I've got you there,
for I am a sack of meat.

O, to live amongst the squids!
and be so jubilant and jiggly,
why, no pleasure's ever met my eye,
as that leathery wriggling beak.

Am I to blame for my misfortune?
Surely so, but of you I must ask,
what misfortune? Am I to assume
that because I have agency, I must fail?

Nonsense! And how fitting.
American manifest. Living
in a land, for himself, most befitting.
Laugh with me, for we live in Clown World.

This is the power of
the untamed duffle bag.
Vicious! O how vicious, his maw,
his all consuming zipper unzipped.

But my zipper, too, is unzipped.
Such a faux pas passes not
in our society, unforgiving,
unforgivable.
Original sin.

The ocean, of deep blue mysteries,
Sways in a crushing pool of wonder and histories.
Full of life, larger than small,
The fish swim together, one and all.

It stretches further than the eye can see,
The ocean is entirely free.
Waves that crash on the rocky outcrop,
They will never not move, they will never not stop.

The Ocean gleams off the bright sunset,
Sharks that lurk beneath, propose a threat.
Seaweed dangles beneath the broad sea,
Seagulls sway above flying in a spree.

Lifeguards rest on the shore ahead,
Crisp sea air blows against their head.
Dolphins, Squids, Seals and more,
Wait until you hear the whale’s mighty roar.

I love the ocean; it’s beautiful to me,
I just hope you see the same, I plea.

I'm twenty-one, I don't really know what I'm doing.
I have direction, I'm pointed the way I want my life to go.
I know life has its twists and turns, that worries me.
The future is beautiful in black,
So that's what it typically wears.
I don't know what it holds, no one does.
I want to know in all seriousness where all the giant squids are.
Because some days that's how I feel.
I'm a big-*** squid in a very shallow pond.
Most days however, I feel like a cat
If I were an actual cat; what color would I be?
Not that it matters.
I bet I'd be a short-haired cat.
Would my cat eat squid?
How can I break my addiction to anime, caffiene, nicotine, and jumping to conclusions?
What would nine year old me do if he found out that in twelve years his best friend would be the only person he hates?
What do you, the reader, think I am?
Am I man?
Or
Am I beast?
What does she see in me?
Why does it feel like I'm always looking into a mirror after a long hot shower?
You know;
When the glass is covered with condensation,
Why am I so afraid to go back to school?
What do I even want to do?
How can I change the people around me?
How do I keep those I hold dear smiling?
I swear I'm happy; trust that I would never lie about that.
I'm just so lost.
Dr. Pepper tastes so good but it reminds me of my old poetry.
Who knows what will happen in ten years, two days, three hours, fifteen minutes and twenty-six seconds?
More over, who gives a ****?
Perhaps this is just my quarter life crisis.

Too much poetry
So many lines
A bunch of words
Too little time

Confused by the lies
She yells out only in writing
Pouring out her pain  
It rains storms and lightning

Cold showers for a dead flower
Hearts lost in this tug of war
She wants what she wants
So she gets what she gets

It all comes full circle
Remember this is a story of wits
Her poetry is deep
Defined by a lover

In a pool full of lnk
Squids blind each other
She finds discomfort in solitude
So she rooms his attitude

Lonely nights soon forgotten
Sublime to the stars
Its light ignited compassion
Redefined by her scars

I heard it all and read it all
She lives just across the hall
Red coated kisses
Caught him red handed

Where he falls on his knees
Every tear wasted
When yes slips from her lips
Yet another slit on her wrist

The towering love of a child
Ruined by mistreated wounds
Before it even reached the moon
Her power breached a tomb
  
Time is not treatment
It is cruelty
We get just enough to live
But not enough to learn

around the ring of fire
continents burn
in the blistering logic
of claims to islands and air spaces,
waters lapping on wrong shores
cultures and creeds
unearthed from a hazy past

The crew-cut dictator
still stands at attention
at a starving army decorated like peacocks
for a world watching

rockets out of fuel and fire
damp squids plonking in nearby oceans
decorated with plastic medals
sycophants
saluting goose steppers
with polished ironies
and propaganda to hold power
within themselves

the bonfire burns bright
as people perish without bread

crew-cut is unable to see them die
myopic vision and overseas education
he will also have to die one day
with porcelain soldiers
guarding his tombstone.

sad. anyone crying?
**** the ones that don't.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago

the raised lakes of Beijing
are fitted with the finest glass walls
parents go there to unload their unwanted children
the squids of the lakes grab hold of the children,
          hug them
                    adopt them
                          teach them to breathe
people walk by, pay no attention
but the glass walls are built tall
            wiped clear
to the point where i can’t help but to notice.
the orange plumed tentacles
grown straight from the children’s backs
          pulsing like a flame
                  like a phoenix
                         like a poppy’s bloom
smeared by the color of the water’s haze
or the tourist’s awe-shot eyes.

i'm pretty **** sure you'd gobble this like i did, wolfish;
it's a reinvention of the original: sweet & sour...
but this is                            sweet & salty.
  mmm...
                          rice noodles! rice nnn! that almost see-through
squids of tangles...
                       not egg noodles! not egg noodles!
rice! rice noodles!
          and then we fry some bacon,
                              add a bit of mushrooms...
                                          a few pinches of paprika...
         and then the magic happens...
                                honey....
                                 followed up by some soy sauce...
mmm, keep frying...
                            some pepper...
                                       then nicely cut cherry tomatoes
to break apart the sweet from the salty with some
                                                                                 acidity,
and then some parsley to garnish.
                                                                    woof!
went down like a storm, it probably took me less time to
down the bowl of noodles than i took to cook it...
           but what an ingenious concept, rather than the classic
sweet & sour...             sweet & salty...
                                     comrade mao would have approved:
just think how simple it sounds...
                 it's not exactly, hoisin sauce,
        honey
                                soy sauce
                                                             cherry tomatoes:
oh **** me... you need a buffer zone...
                       some sort of acidity...
                          if you were going to bottle it i'm sure citric salt
would do the job... but in real time? when you're actually
conjuring such a recipe?     cherry tomatoes...
          and no... egg noodles won't do... they're too heavy,
they won't soak up the juices...           so you need the squid-like
tentacles of rice noodles...          and yes, fry the concoction
        in some chili infused olive oil.
a microcosmos in under 15 minutes...
              the universe disappears... and the idea of a polyverse
                is but a ****; and a burp half an hour later.

Pay attention to,
the squids and monkeys and bugs,
They will rule one day,
Roaming forests, dark foliage,
Pierced only by sliver milked moon
The sun far set on ethereal ground,
The people soon rest in the shallow
Or sent abroad have dreams of leaving,
Timeless exposure to all magnets.
This makes no sense.

The sun is God and I am covered in faith.
2. It’s me it’s hugging
3. The bonfires sneak into my nose.
The sun warms me from the cool wind.
Cooked marshmallows melt on my tongue filled with sugar and fluff.
The harsh squawking of the seagulls pound my ears
The sunset fills my eyes with an orange glow that sinks into the ocean
4. The cold tide is stroking my feet with it’s salty smell and it’s clear appearance as it quietly claps over the tops of my feet.
5. Tracy Alexander cuddles up with me on the beach of Huntington Beach, California.
6. The sweet song of the seagulls beautifully sing above me.
7. The crude and annoying birds squawk at us
8. Gnarly
9. Because we were big and wore big shoes.
10. He would need fifteen notebooks to complete the project
11. The dull knifes of weakness and innocence bent as we tried to cut our steak
12. We were as sad as squids
13. He flew through the air
14. Wilson walked through the forest
15. The rain was coming with the dark clouds
16. And that lead him nowhere I could ever track. Till he’s so far away, so lost
17. The earth should be cloned to make a second home from ourselves
18. Du är perfekt
19. The wine slowly danced in a spinning circle as a hand made it ring around on it’s rim.
20. Even as the dark clouds cover over the small city, blacking everything out.

Sheltered in deep abysses, enveloped
By the soft touch of translucent salted fluids,
Voluptuous fluctuating bodies of enthralling creatures
Inhabit the unscathed aquatic spheres, impishly enjoying
The uncountable marvels of spirited marine existence.

Secret currents carry turtles migrating ten
Thousand miles or more across the oceans in search
Of jellyfish and warmer waters with remoras sliding backwards,
Clinging onto them by suction as mantas pursue
Shrimps and krill before the passage of baleens.

Dolphins splash about communicating sounds, flamingo tongue
Sea snails leaving trails, of dead coral tissue in their wake. Red
Vase sponge copiously producing slime as squids swim by,
Focusing their prominent eyes on targets while colourful *****
Walk sideways, foraging for small, spiny, globular urchins.

Sneaky sharks finely tune electromagnetic sensors marked
By pits on their snouts to detect, slight muscular movements,
Down to heartbeats of preys, fighting battles with flying hawks
Over penguins, and trumpetfish align themselves with other
Vertical objects and sea stars, regenerate lost body parts.

Moving as one, schools of sweetlips explore accompanied
By devoted cleaner wrasses grooming them to keep
Their skin and mouths free of infection-causing parasites.
All play the game, of balance and harmony in the underworld,
While mermaids travel along the few remaining vessels of

Stranded humans in quest of land.

We sit by the temple

inky black is the sky

the stars flicker like diamonds

watching the waves on the beach washing up

to a tidal high  


The glowing fluorescents as the deep meets the surface

from jellyfish to squids and blue shiny sea worms

as we watch we hold hands

twenty we do stand

then we start, singing to the heavens


All of our torches do lead to the sea

to the waters of life we greet thee

we sing of body and soul

all the masters young and old

singing to the heavens



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Freuds lament meant that a pen is a *****
I comment
Hi I am Sebastian
I’m an addict
Addicted to frantic erratic language
In what language am I babbling in - can’t quit - can't resist
Grappling this black pen with smeared hands
Grasp the ******* thing
And ink
Panicking again
Where squids swam
Here stands a weird man
Trapped in a stare match
With miasmic abyss
It’s scary ****
As hearing camera flashes
Dancing bare ***
Unaware as to
where the camera is
Can’t fathom it
An ensnaring act
Grabbing talons
Talented career paths
Disappear fast
With mirror battling
The mere craftsmanship
And mad man’s wit
Embarrassing as still asking, unaware as to what is happening
With clear answers apparent still Years pass years after still ain’t clear after asking this
This is maddening
Reappearing patterns still amass
And thinking different things will happen if in fact I can persist
The same **** happens
That ****’s batshit
What if
This madness catches
That is bad
As lit matches
Catching mattress lint
I fear I did damage to my
Amygdala oblongata as a kid
Again and again
Damm habits
Still
I amass amazing
Paragraphs saturations
A hue is soothing
To translucent humans
Like my time as a youth spent
School bench doodling
Pulled the blue pen through the movements maneuvered cerulean loops drew huge dudes and exuberant protruding ***** for my youths amusement
Nowadays I fetching the meddling
Red pen sent from heaven making corrections, leveling mistakes begging for a reckoning, making more of less, settling scores, enabling communications less deafening, less beckoning, helping to get a sense of my best and when i left my element. what I might write with my white pen is



silence,


enticing I think.

What's so scary about the sea?
The thought of no way to flee.

Endless blue on all sides,
What's all in there that hides?

We don’t know,
Something could be there to grow.

It’s a place that's so unknown,
Don’t you just feel so alone?

On the ship, with the fear to sink,
As water floods it to the brink.

Now all alone in this blue cold,
Thinking about the tales you’re told.

Of leviathans and giant squids,
That can easily tear you to bits.

Some even say we know more about space,
What do you think—Is it a scary place?

Night was descending
on the tonsured heads,
terracotta robes,
clasping the palms, hiding the seeds
of earth.

Against a ban on lips
for belonging truly.
Blissful. The squids settle in the weeds
of overbrimming sea of arms.

Blood was red, brown and pale.
oozing from the slit eyes,
soaking the green voices, herbs and sad kisses.
In the death, your name will be engraved on your shoes.

The steps were small
but shadows were very long on the ice.
The stings unflawed, did their job.
Suddenly you go
in anaphylactic shock.

visit a turkish barber... was better than visiting
a bulgarian *******... seriously....
   a shave and trim felt better,
than any felatio would ever will...
      imagine!
i discovered the turkish barber,
after, just, after...
i discovered a *******...
whether ukranian or bulgarian...
   don't worry...
   i might have a child...
but given that i'm not
circumcised...
         the whole "m'ah" pleasure...
sure... when oral *** comes into play...
but pulling back my *******...
during *******...
      h'uh?!
                 the pulled back *******
was always constrictive...
         boa seeking new skin...
shedding its old skin...
   the **** is this blame game about?!
i don't want to be guilty of
pro-choice,
when... just now...
i salvaged a life of a moth...
  it flew it, attempted to plant
its larvae into my clothes...
   i caught it, released it...
      i hate being plagued by abortion...
i would **** a ******* spider,
a moth, a fly...
         an unborn foetus?!
seriously?!
       now i know why i grew
a beard... it's like smoking
a cigarette... a past-time...
something to fiddle with...
      attention-******* the capacity
to think....
      if i am going to by misogynistic...
stealing kisses from prostitutes
is "currently" misogynistic?!
         really?
             what, oyu never heard
of a story by a ******* when her co-worker
was murderered?!
no?!             then you haven't lived
through of what's desired to be
the worth of: enough!
             i hate being blamed for
an abortion...
        i don't know: she was ******* her
ex-boyfriend, she was *******
a hot-be-free alpha-looks while
married...
                 my moral agony is a lie...
it's not like
    not wearing a ****** gives you
access to "pleasure",
when you're not circumcised...
   circumcised men, h'americans...
for all their moral argument worth,
simply, don't know...
Zeus had the same discussion with
Hera...
    who derives more pleasure from
***... men... or... women?
from what i remember...
sorry... from what i know?
             men derive ******
pleasure by deriving it from
giving ****** pleasure,
rather than experiencing it!
circumcised cuck-load...
i don't respect gentile,
h'american, circumcised men...
i'm not!
                fuckes simply
buckle and give in...
allowing squids to **** them
off!
                  what sort of respect
can i have to the circumcised
gentiles?!
    the jews?! fine... they have rules...
what rules... do circumcised
gentiles have?!
  cuck-philosophy... *******
******* are more ******* than
"you"...

   no! i don't like being asserted
as pro-choice life...
         i live upon a lie...
                  apparently everything a woman
says: is the truth...
               maybe that's why i turned
to celibacy aged 21...
            i don't believe in 2nd chancing
the "problem"...
once is enough... twice is
lowering your i.q. from 120 to 80...
-40...
    escobar'oh menos cuarenta pavlov:
*******: wink wink?!

draft interlude:
(

you know how the british
treat people
of similar ethnic origins,
who integrate,
learn their tongue,
better than than might
speak it,
  and receive letters
from downing st. regarding
their tax dealings?
like ****...
                   they treat them
like second class citizens...
they deserve muslim
attacks...
            i'll lick a stamp
and send a letter to mind
the "problem"...
      i can't be bothered...
      this
p.c.s.d. (post-colonial stress
disorder) doesn't even
begin to nibble -
or tickle at me...
              you made this mess,
you fix it!
           i'm washing my hands
clean of the affair...
       i'm having not part
of it...
    i'm doing a pontius pilate
publicity stunt...
            you can come
to a foreign nation,
and enrich it, and then
you're treated like vermin,
like ****...  
  believe me...
the vultures are waiting
to nibble at the scraps...
              if you're so *******
prone with regards to
kebabs...
stuff your face with them!
then tell the mothers and
fathers of manchester to:
"stick to the facts"
  and repress their emotions...
i can recite you
the home office,
   visiting my house,
the year? 1997...
               and hand-cuffing
my father and mother,
and me punching the wall
of a room...
               your turn...
   pretending to be
   cultured, to be respectable,
to be whatever it is
that you're not...
           two-faced liars...
      i hate liars...
me? i only lie when
i go to an ex-girlfriend chistening
her first baby...
  and i lie, out of a need
for tact...
              it's just uncomfortable
to tell the truth
in such circumstances...
               all it was,
was a lie about staying
for a period much longer than
anticipated outside the
church event, i.e. having drinks
in the church...
    i only lie when i'd might
require a napkin...
             but the bree-teesh
are becoming unbearable
   to other europeans...
   they have these superior airs
thinking that ******* a black
girl doesn't make them "racist"
or whatever label might
creep-up...
        these airs of aristocratic
respectability is bugging me...
            the dukes and earls
are no better than football hooligans...       )

  i.e. the "ordinary" citizens...
they are so over-entitled...
    the casual citizen, given the opportunity....
is allowing himself / herself

overtly toward the stature of king or queen...
pack and parcel,... your ****,
from pakistan, mr. sadiq khan...
                       savvy?
             when will the english just grow
the basic, the basic implies:
a pair of *****... rather than masquerading
behind the cricketer moeen ali?!
is this the part where i day:
oh look... one slipped past the sieve!?
            maybe that's a good "thing"...

i'm talking to something akin
to hautköpfe: skinheads...
   the beschnittenmerkwürdigkeiten:
the "christened" / baptized
             peoples...
                    m.g.m. is no scalp?
as is the *******...
   why should man experience
pleasure from ***?
what pleasure can a woman,
derive from being pregnant?
so... why would man,
derive pleasure from ***?!
        if you will circumcise man...
should all women be
allowed the cesarean section?
well... if breeding with the semites...
should women be allowed
the luxury... associated with the pleasure
derived from *** by circumcised men,
by allowing women the relief from
giving birth, via the cesarean section?

say no... and you know you're and
you'll be wrong.
what's the reality of
the cesarean section?
a day or two extra in bed in a hospital...
what is circumcision
of the male phallus?
egotism...
              pompous *******...
maybe that's why i turned celibate
after my last relationship
aged 21...
          i didn't want the lies...
the finite, unimaginative lies
of women...
the predictable lies of women...
how women can't handle
drinking... and feel no joy
from the past time...
        
                   i can't **** a moth...
trying to nest in my wardrobe...
but when a woman,
is keeping a baby in the oven,
and lies...
that it isn't mine...
                 i become berzerker...
i am blind but slashing...
            i see: blind...
who am i to invest in a ******* child?!
i hate liars...
   liars esp. in the age of
scientific gratification of facts...
at least in an age of mishandled
narratives,
of mythological bribery
liars could be confined
    to an established truant liking
of a variant of comedy / trickery...
to make play of kings becoming
fools...
               but now?!
                           given the certainity?
i'm not willing to *****-father
a *******-*******.