There's a yellow green gas,
You can't see in your glass.
Sometimes you can tell,
It's there by the smell.
It does a great job removing bacteria,
Like Diphtheria,
Or even Listeria.

But what do you think,
Happens to the chlorine in your drink?
I don't want to alarm,
But there's a chance it might harm.
It protects at a price,
Attacking our bacteria that are nice,
And I'm sure it excels,
At killing your own cells,
Forcing new ones to grow,
When a mistake could cause woe.
Some studies have found it an enhancer,
Of bladder and bowel cancer.

Whether old or young,
Do you want it in your lung?
You have the power,
To remove it from your shower.
It's rather grim,
To have to breathe it when you swim.
You're more likely to wheeze,
Or sneeze.

Do you think it will please,
Your inflammatory bowel disease?
Perhaps it's the key,
To why there's Crohns and UC.
Do you think that your skin,
Might become a little thin,
And be filled with dread,
As it starts to turn red.
Can you not feel,
How it's harder to heal?
It makes our tissues grow old,
From what I've been told.
Our cells can only divide,
A few times before they're stupified.

With asthma and chlorine on a map,
You can see they overlap.
Sadly in the West,
Not everyone has guessed,
That there may be a link,
With the gas in our drink.

“But!”, I hear you cry,
“Without it people will die.”
Let go of your dread,
We can use something instead.
The answer is well known,
It's called 'ozone'.
Made from pure water,
It's gone when it reaches my daughter,
Unlike chlorine it's life is brief,
What a relief.

There's many a city,
That make it with electricity,
Splitting water into hydrogen,
And best of all, oxygen!
For ozone is made from O2,
Yes, it's true!
Imagine if you had,
Water with nothing they add.
Already there's Paris and Nice in France,
Where people can dance.
San Diego and Los Angeles in the USA,
Have water that's ok.
And Osaka in Japan,
Now use this plan.
But you don't have to be rich,
To make the switch.
Ask a clever committee,
To stop chlorine in your city.
See if you can arrange,
To have your water change.

I hear you shout,
“Can 'I' get this chlorine out?”
If you leave water in a jug overnight,
What's left will be slight.
Boiling will send it away in the air,
So there's no need to despair.
You can also remove it with a filter,
Or a water distiller.

To learn more have a look,
At 'Question Chlorine' on facebook.

Delay, well, travellers must expect
Delay. For how long? No one seems to know.
With all the luggage weighed, the tickets checked,
It can't be long… We amble too and fro,
Sit in steel chairs, buy cigarettes and sweets
And tea, unfold the papers. Ought we to smile,
Perhaps make friends? No: in the race for seats
You're best alone. Friendship is not worth while.

Six hours pass: if I'd gone by boat last night
I'd be there now. Well, it's too late for that.
The kiosk girl is yawning. I fell stale,
Stupified, by inaction - and, as light
Begins to ebb outside, by fear, I set
So much on this Assumption. Now it's failed

Life ain't so funny when you ain't got
   that honey feeling deep inside
You had it once when you were very
    young (when you were little)
When you were close to the Source
Close to your god and your Mom
That lovely sweet ambrosia feeling
It used waft through your being
Its various colours lighting you up
   inside
Like a veritable Christmas tree
Made you feel real special, made you
   feel so alive
Made you feel that Life was
   something amazing
An incredible ride.

But that was then, and this... this is
   now
Seems almost like a lifetime ago
Like some myth or legend
Lost way in the mists of Time,
Been so long since I had that feeling,
You begin to wonder was there ever
   such a place
Did it ever really exist at all.

The World it offers you sweets and
   chocolate
Their nice but they don't last, their
   over too fast
And they only remind you of what
   you've lost
(And yea, you can eat that sugar but
   it'll only **** you brother
It ain't the same and it ain't what
   you're looking for).

Inside there's just this great big hole
That you try and fill with anything
Eating too much, drinking too much
(You don't know when to stop, and
   even then, it's never enough)
Working as well... too much! staring,
Staring at the TV (the almighty TV),
And pretending...yea, pretending your
   whole
If only they knew these smiles of
   mine, their not true
And these words, their all hollow too,
There's nothing here in me, I... I'm
   empty.

Each day is just another desert to
   cross,
Another desert to roam
Lying sprawled out on the sofa in
   front of the TV, stupified and
       zombified
You think to yourself, "there was a sweetness once, wherever did it go".

I write this little narrative
and shall endevour to be brief,
for events that I unburden
may never gain of true belief.
I put to you dear reader
that tomorrow I shall die
for the events that so destroyed me
but with this wording I will try.

As a child I was so happy
and being of good disposition.
I had a fondness for all creatures,
so to care for was my mission.
With my pets as my companions
that such a pleasure is the truth.
I cared, fed and caressed them,
this was the model of my youth.

Into manhood I was pleasant.
A woman sent from God above.
Such a bride that shared my passion
of such animals I love.
Love flourished inside our home life
Our demeanour was one of that,
so we puchased gold fish and a rabbit,
a small monkey and black cat.

'Pluto' purred a lovely song,
readilly did steel my heart.
He was large, soft and so loving
and from my side was hard to part.
This large black cat worried my wife
as superstitions do so cast.
Though it slackened seriousness
as ancient ideals do not last.

Seven years we were intent
until my character did start to change.
Temperament was quick to follow,
my personality grew strange.
The demon drink was now a worry
when my wife would feel my knuckle.
For one moment I was raged
and the other I would chuckle.

One night upon my return
witha drunken mans' complexion.
Pluto wanting nothing from me
felt irate of rough connection.
Reluctantly he beared down his claw
as from my grasp he tried to fly
and as my blood did slowly trickle
I removed my knife and then his eye.

As the daylight light gave its shine
from the excesses of last eve's gin.
I from remorse supped in excess
Trying to drown this evil sin.
I was weak and so un-trying
lashing out at one and all.
No longer in control of
it seemed my destiny to fall.

Pluto recovered this ordeal,
though eye-less socket was my gift.
I could not be so surprised,
as on my approach he would fly swift.
No longer was he my ally.
No longer was he my friend.
No longer did I drink the *****
but this avoidance would soon end.

He still attended this abode
Wandering with one eyed navigation
Although I felt the pangs of grief
Grief soon changed to irritation.
One morning I did slip a noose
Around poor Pluto's scraggy throat
I hung him from a tree outside
drinking a bottle whilst I gloat.

Against the laws of God I ******
In satisfaction I do wallow
Excuse is this intrusive substance
My own forgiveness do I swallow.
Evil, horror and unkind
Depravity is what I think
These thoughts float freely around my mind
All conjured up from Demon drink.

That night such cruel deed had been done
for something happened so unfair.
As I awoke, my home in flames.
My wealth all gone I felt despair.
On visiting the smouldering ashes
that once I could call my address.
I found almost complete destruction
as i surveyed this total mess.

I came upon just one exception.
The wall where once had stood my bed
A crowd had gathered for some reason,
suprise to me it must be said.
Curiosity drew me closer
To see what they gazed at
and as if graven in bas relief
the figure of a gigantic cat.

Such accuracy it must be said
Stood proudly within the wreck
Above where my head used to rest
A rope about the creature's neck.
When I beheld this apparition,
for scarcely could I regard it less.
feeling terror to the extreme,
drew upon me such untold stress.

I came to think about that night
When fires rage was at its most
That someone must of free'd the feline
Cut it down from hanging post.
Perhaps then thrown through open window
With view to raising me from sleep
Compressed my **** fresh in new plaster
a burnt portrait for me to keep.

Such great impression on my mind.
Phantasms thought could not forget.
feeling such insincere remorse
I chose to search for similar pet.
Whilst I frequented vile haunts
with painstaking examination,
decided cat should be of similar look.
I did not want emancipation.

In a den of vile infamy
Half stupified I sat
When something claimed of my attention
In the form of a black cat.
Hazily I reeled in shock
Was this Pluto in my sight
Until after greater examining
I noticed a splodge of white.

I thought for just one moment
My mind was setting me a test
For Pluto was as black as soot
But this **** wore a white breast.
He came to me immediately
Upon me he did laize
I purchased him right there and then
I smothered him with love and praise.

My wife did so adore this cat.
But for myself after some time
Much love did turn again to loathing
and its presence cringed my spine.
The reason came the next day on
as Inhebriated I was no more
I saw that he had just one eye.
So shocked was I, I think I swore.

My wife was in a happy state
Thinking that my life had changed
Back to my old and wanted ways
Before my life became deranged.
The white mark upon the felines breast
over time appeared to define
Into a picture so distintive.
A Gallows was this eerie sign.

My sanity was in unsolid state
This creature soon to be bereft
Supporting a badge of owners crime
over its Agony and Death.
This brute of similar attribute
To he I had once destroyed,
tormented and most worried me.
My vengeance would not be denied.

My temperence was as a beast
With furious tempers flare
I almost abandoned all this strife
without so much as single care.
One day on household errand
on my brow this cat shone tax.
Whilst in the cellar with the *****
I tried to **** it with an axe.

Guarded by my faithfull wife,
I still remember what she said
Leave this poor dumb creature be.
I left the axe inside her head.
Such ****** was not deliberate
I could not resolve that this be real
but after contemplative time
I knew this crime I must conceal.

I pondered long what course to take
I could not move her by day or night,
must be accomplished down below
to keep this body far from sight.
Encasing her behind the wall
as monks once did in bygone age.
Surrounded now with morter and brick
it was the most solid of cage.

Before the last brick was replaced
I searched the house for Pluto's clone.
No sign was found of one eyed tom,
my persecutor had gone to roam.
I looked with pride at job well done.
Such rendering was no disgrace,
nothing toward had happened here
with everything nicely in its place.

I searched again to find the beast
he that to me did not impress.
Although I'd killed I slept so tranquil.
My mood did qualm and I felt fresh.
Second and third days came and went
But feline never made a show
He must of truly read my mind
Decided safer he should go.

The fourth day after assassination,
Police came around this place to delve.
After a most intense exploration,
suspiscion they decide to shelve.
In my triumph I did take on pride,
I pointed out this house so stout
and taking up my wooden cane
I gave the wall a hearty clout.

May the lord deliver me
from the fangs of acrid friend.
For squeeling came from beyond that wall
leaving my secret at an end.
In my haste to hide my sin,
I hid the corpse and cleared the room
It seems the brute had never gone
Instead it hid inside the tomb.

Here I stand in readiness
these gallows wanting company
and with this rope around my neck
it seems my wife I will soon see.
If only ego had refrained
and with that cane I'd caused no fuss,
perhaps they may never of heard
the reply from that old black ****

I seeketh one to seal mine labium with her succulent salt,
To locketh me tight in her vault,
And to throw away our key,

On mine knee's ,
I canvass to find one!!!!

Two to have children of many!!

Why do you repel death
As if you stepped on an uncouth reptile
That stupified your mirth with a sting
and stiffled your brearth with dark coils round your girth?

The sibling death was with you ever since your birth
As close and distanced  as the self-effacing unmouthed mammoth  earth.

Throughout your path
And  passage along childhood to Man or
Motherhood
You did not see the truth
That death was with you ever since your
Being to  becoming growth
As a naive and native
Star in the north.

When you giggled and smiled in sleep-shell
the death was smiling with you as well.
When you dreamed and deemed yourself immortal
The death was kind at your daring mettle.
When you forgot to know the worth
Of the Love Smith
Who carved you as the crown of creation
The death was with you, an emphatic narration, a gentle witness of your lavished wishes of yourself.

Death was around you
Embracing your kiths
With valour indepth
And a love of eternal strength!

Still you strolled  uncontrolled to count your mortal home and hearth,
Ephemeral wherewithal

Death was ever loving
And lent you a free living
Even when you were  ailing.


Still you failed in your mirth
To listen and learn
From  what its worth
Still he is mute and modest as earth
And a caring and guiding  north star.

Then why do you loathe
And  show dearth of love to the one who
Loves all in equal strength
And blanks out all balance sheets,  
That credit and debit all accounts on earth
To the remembrance bank of infinity
without showing any disparity?

FACE THE THREATS *
          
Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi -
Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy,
Vivekananda found at the end
A lonely path that seemed to blend.
With his solemn, pensive mood.
Longing for silence and solitude.
As he walked along the narrow path
Winding amidst lush green plants
Towards a sprawling, lovely lake,
A horde of monkeys, all red faced,
Sprang on him from a nearby branch.
Taken aback by their sudden attack,
He ran very fast, never turning back,
But the menacing beasts were at his heels
And one of them pulled his saffron gown
While the others growled and shrieked.
Shocked to see this frightful scene,
A holy man coming from the lake,
Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake.
Stand there, face the surly brutes."
Regaining his composure and lost balance,
Vivekananda stopped at once,
Held his ground and raised his hand.
Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled .
        Thus awakened, he soon realised -
         "When you are threatened by opponents,
           Face them with courage and confidence,
            Yet, without malice or vengeance.
             To win life's battles, have grit and strength,
              For, strength is life and fear, worse than death."
                              **.  M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India

When we stopped at the mission
The cracked Adobe was a message from god
Saying,

Centuries are just cracks in the stone, my world runs on diamonds and hydrocarbons
On charming interactions
On moments of synchronicity
On rubbing out heat to be dissatisfied into the void
To give feed for the new ones
In the feral zodiacs.

She frowned at this answer, said she wanted something less ethereal,
Something tight to clutch
Like the Parthenon's Corinthian columns
Or the great gables of a Neverending tabernacle
She was a greedy and godly girl

I was stupified, staring intently at the cracks
Asking what strange beings were created in between
Tracing the canyon routes with my hands, pressing the palm against the grooves
They were warm with lost sunshine, they had dust and life and creatures of God that sought not the gaze of us, but the eternal love of the dark

I have neglected many times this fact of life, pretending to be a stone in a world of pulsating flesh
Wanting to be abused eternally in exchange for experience

To be Boulder--
With granite cheeks and dusted neck
With cobalt eyes and chiseled chest
Tectonic movement, sparring feet
And left forever towards the seas.

FACE THE THREATS *
          
Jostling through the crowds of Varanasi -
Ancient, vibrant and ever noisy,
Vivekananda found at the end
A lonely path that seemed to blend.
With his solemn, pensive mood.
Longing for silence and solitude.
As he walked along the narrow path
Winding amidst lush green plants
Towards a sprawling, lovely lake,
A horde of monkeys, all red faced,
Sprang on him from a nearby branch.
Taken aback by their sudden attack,
He ran very fast, never turning back,
But the menacing beasts were at his heels
And one of them pulled his saffron gown
While the others growled and shrieked.
Shocked to see this frightful scene,
A holy man coming from the lake,
Shouted "Do not run; they will overtake.
Stand there, face the surly brutes."
Regaining his composure and lost balance,
Vivekananda stopped at once,
Held his ground and raised his hand.
Stupified and bewildered, the monkeys fled .
        Thus awakened, he soon realised -
         "When you are threatened by opponents,
           Face them with courage and confidence,
            Yet, without malice or vengeance.
             To win life's battles, have grit and strength,
              For, strength is life and fear, worse than death."
                              **.  M.G.Narasimha Murthy
Hyderabad, India

Today disappeared
Just left me.
Stupified and choking.
An aftertaste austere
Served in scarlet cashmere
Depleting the atmosphere
Leaving cipher here
But me  and the clear
In some combat severe

Heaving with the desolate
Plummeting free
Intersecting the climate
Benumbing me
Functions seize
I can hardly breathe
And i think to myself
How you'll be relieved
Once you learn
Of my new disease

Soon you will have it all
What you've been fighting for
All that you wanted all along
I wont be here to interfere anymore

Insides gathering
Ever crafty always cunning
Acabar impending
and at last, i find meaning

.come to think of it... a fillet of meat never implores me to think about what's about to be eaten... nor does a whole chicken implore me to think about what's about to be eaten... but whenever i see my fellow man... esp. when my fellow man is begging to not be taken seriously... i do... tend to... in the back of my mind... attempt to bypass thinking about a butchers' cut... of what... looks pristine when walking or running... parcles of the "excess" of limbs... given a dead chicken... it's all readily available... but... working from a genesis of movement toward the study of both coffin and stone; and wind? i would most certainly understand ******... but then again... not all that ******... end up eating their intentions... which makes me make phantoms of nostalgia... ****'s sake... even the sharks these days will bite: but spit our flesh out... because... well: why **** something that you will not eat? because... there's a... Hadrian's wall counter-impetus?! but it's welcoming to think about ****** as... also a bit of a hunt... i guess that's what keeps me off a streak of tartare "justice": before i start gagging and imitation regurgitation... such a foul beast from an ownership of a tongue alone... forget that shambo of the mind... no wonder... man kills man without intentions to eat him... i'd sooner eat cat-****-and-puke... then again... unless it was the brain, the heart, the liver... those ackward limbs and muscles... i could somehow imagine eating the tender bits... never those... ostrich extensions of reimagining animate agilities of a kama sutra: study.

stupendous...

   i will hold a stone in one hand
and imagine a mountain...

i will hold a glass in the other...
and imagine the sea:

not from the brain...
but from the tips of my fingers...

stupendous... quiet so...

               otherwise less impressive:
most thoroughly...

then i will hold some ice in one hand...
and some black earth in the other...

i will scrunch some paper into a ball...
rather than fold it...
   then i'll lick a knife...
            then...
          
                if there's any more "quo vadis"
sensibility to go through with...
i'll remember: ask the anaesthetician
that question: quo vadis...

as he distracts you with the jab
before... that sort of "sleep"...

            i would like to feel the texture
of thought...
        perhaps even sniff it out
into a bottle - out from my head...
this perpetual (th)ought i...

had it been only a moral quest
rather than... picking
up stray lines that otherwise made-up
a concern for narrative...

                                yes: "or" this insomnia
narrative... all these bothersome
daydreams and counter-measures...

it's not merely enough to play
out monkey-dough roles...
tongue of a serpent...
body still functioning at best
in imitation...
inconveniences of noble feats
acquired from watching widow swans
in that term: monogamy...

or in a circus of a harem of walruses...
this chimera this man...
the loan animal and his loan
words: schnitzel puppy flip flip...

        unless it's pure history of dates...
it's... a mongrel of archeology
and etymology...
           to find the oldest word...
that has been translated: diffused...

beside og, da, i, am... om, to...
         w...      z...
           w tym: in this...
          z tego: from this...

a letter that can act like a conjunction...
i: "e"... and...
         or a pronoun...

wood does not have a chemical formula...
water does: inorganic matter does...
stones do...

air does...
            oxygen by whatever %... nitrogen by
whatever %..
i studied chemistry...
but the question only comes now...

what is the chemical formula for... wood?
well... wood doesn't have a chemical formula...
truly... even i'm astounded...

even Alain de Lille looks stupified...
i know... they have a list of formulas
for... ****'s sake... even the ozone!
O₃... which is "impossible" since oxygen
is doubly-binding...

shortcuts to god... i can't call them anything
but just that...
why doesn't wood have a chemical
formula?!

i will hold a book in one hand...
and a feather in another...

    you can have a chemical formula
for... stibnite...
    orthorhombic... Sb₂S₃...
of sure... you can have that...
you can have a chemical formula for:

millerite (NiS)
  zwieselite... olivenite...
          adamine Zn2(AsO4)(OH) -
   autunite Cu(UO2)2(PO4)2 · 12H2O...
benitoite...
                  
all these formulas...
these aquariums of inorganic matter...
but still... no chemical formula for...
wood!

lignin is only part of the equation...
what can be accounted for photosynthesis:
C₅₅H₇₂O₅N₄Mg (chlorophyll)...
      
you'd think water would be more
complicated...
    
beryl?
            hollandite?
         ­ tremolite...       so that's "earth"
all covered; no?

but where's that formula for wood?

good-luck looking for that holy graille...
either the cup or the cross...
cubanite... no problem...
   benitoite...
              goethite...

               am i drinking? oh right... that's me
waking up to a reality of not being
in a boyband...

all these chemical names coming and
going...
  glass...
trinitite,
made by the trinity nuclear-weapon test...
the libyan desert glass...
volcanic obsidian glass...

otherwise glass is:
silicon dioxide +
SiO2
calcium carbonate +
CaCO3
sodium carbonate
Na2CO3

             what's the chemical formula
for wood?!
any luck with paper?
a mixture... primer: cellulose (C6H10O5)n...

approx. 50% carbon, 42% oxygen,
6% hydrogen, 1% nitrogen, and 1%
other elements
(calcium, potassium, sodium,
     magnesium, iron, and manganese)

i guess it's one of those social media
relationship statuses: "it's... complicated"...
my bad...
   cellulose... polyose... and lignin...

something spectacular was supposed to
happen: there was an avenue of pristine
love waiting: i never managed
to wait for it... in the end...
run-of-the-mill stuff...
           there was this "this"...
and there was this "that"...
     pointers in braille...
      limintless echoes of uncaressed
agonies... splendours upon the attire
table of dead-meat: quasi...
     when inspected by the more eloquent
butchers of surgery...

            but the whiskey or the *****...
flowed like... it possessed the knowledge
of... gomme syrup...
of all the detailed memories
of: these people have lived...
the alchemists:
   - zosimos of panopolis
   - ge hong
- jean baptista van helmont...
    
  why is leonardo da vinci's mona lisa
so... forced upon us?
ever look at... Perronneau's
  madame de sorquainville?

i always "mistake"... albrecht Düre
with gustave Doré...
i implore you...
don't make me buy chocolates
or flowers... it's not one of thoese
dementia riddled "misnomer" takes
on Monet and Édouard Manet

here's my quadratic:
   albrecht Düre            Claude Monet



       Édouard Manet                     gustave Doré

very much a rhombus...
besides the fact that when i do pop the cork
"pop"... and "cork"...
the libido does rampage...
and i'm imagining myself in a brothel...
and i am the brothel...
and all that's love is about the basic
need for what's easil given
to a petter dog...
down my view no alley with
a grandma and a leash to look / feel
suspect... repetition of the times...
or some sort of allure for repenting
the deeds of youth...

              ****: to hell with stochholm cyborgs
and all that anemic clues...
those autistic plots and "twists"...
        
am i to suddenly come out begging
for my democratic right?
writing as an extension of thinking...
i hardly think it's an invitation
to speak...

              less... "inclined" to counter this freedom?
esp. now?
esp. now?
       now of all times... come... let's dictate
the future together...
let's start sharpening the meat-grinder!
let's keep up with the chisel for a tooth
of the grand earthworm:
wursecker... for the bone to become marror
to become: all but the plaster-work
of pâté!

         smear that **** all over...
                    oh right... what's being "debated"?
the self-employed being given
slave status or otherwise...
those given employee stature...
to be somehow above?
in england there are 5.5 MILLION self-employed
sub-contractors...

the bus driver gets a day off...
unions and what not...
  ******* kind and fellow examples of
non-replica me...
             unions, what unions?
here's to... what?
fizzying out the expandables?
      good lock and chain and "luck"...
no one came when i was i need...
no one came but they still had to ridicule me...

i am enjoying this... whatever "this" is...
i like to think of it...
what the darwinism ideologues
    have been spewing
all along...
recycling primer...
        getting rid of a tootache...
just enough to be... the sensible
english gentleman...
but not... a weimar **** in waiting ******...
sieve it...

we'd be lost in hope...
when all hope is but a blistering
bargain...
when most of us don't have
landlord credentials...

             pokey porky pie-yo!
i like this currency of a carboot sale...
happening...
i quiet like the clearance...
the easily available sale of death...
the darwinism that darwinism
doesn't exactly "like"...

hell... shove the weakest under the bus...
under the hittite slash and draw...
i'm trying to remain bothered...
so says the drunk...

or at least... when the government says:
curfew... no more than 2
in a public space congregation...
i start thinking about how pork torsos
are hanged in a slaughterhause...
then i start to imagine...
that meat-hook... plucked in under
the chin... that excess of a bonus tooth
for where the uvula and the tonsil
should be...

   oh look... it glides! it hangs!
to be crucified is such an obscure...
such an out-of-date symbolism...
how about hanging from a meat-hook?
for piercing those n.h.s. ambulances tires?!
or coughing in the faces of old people?
how about... being impregnated
by a pike inserted in a quasi-sodomite
pristine ****... reaching the ****** of
both pelvis and coccyx...
how's that?

   n'ah... i rather like re-imagining
the curcifixion dangling on your neck...
with a meat-hook and subsequent dangling
on the treadmill of minced...
right under the chin... where the tongue
begins... and ends... to lick
and slobber that last and lost retention
of vowels in oyster juices...
    from the concrete constructs
                                of consonants...
        
a hot-dog hard-on on for...
                                     for the benefits of
sigma humanity;
   i'll try to retain remaining obscure...
****... if i don't i'll probably have to beg
for the image replication of trimmed eyebrows!

When I think about it,
Tis I think,
                                      Everyone wants their kiss to be as a sedative, as a narcotic, a high of ethreal sensation!!!

Though tis I do think,
                                    
I do not seek one's kiss to be morphianic!!!!!
                                      I seeketh a pallet from whence mine own tongue will not withdrawal!!!

But be in eternal stupified comatose!!!!!!

                                                                           Never coming down from thy stratus..

This morn i was reading The elements of style
which i kept as a desktop file
you see a writer suggested it to me
said:"Dude,you wanna be a writer then you got to get this knowledge vile."
being a begineer i downloaded the file
and started reading the Elements of style
First two to four lines-- i am good
next two lines-- got me confused
and before i reach the next-- stupified
i called the writer again and said:
"I don't get anything"
"Oh that's just perfect,you figured it out quickly",replied the writer
I was flabbergasted,"what do you mean?"
"Explain it to me when you understand it,will you ?",
and then she hanged up.
I must say she got me this while.

slegde home the edge of reason
I am living in the live elements vivified
calling on psalms a bang a ****
play a song by the resuscitations of Ong
Overwhelmed  by the awe of past life sores so
stupified

I will die one day but days will still be days
I speak truth and I'm crucified but the truth is still the truth
I will martyr my wisdom to call back ancestors from the Orbs of the Seven Sisters homes
Harbor my dreams to sail onto the pilgrimage of distant seas

Darkness is consistent in a world that doesn't calm and listen
Confused and conflicted the world is blinded by lies so masses pick pistols
Serving not ego, reputation or title
but living in the truth in forbidden scriptures of the Law-of-One Bible
Sages page the mystery concaves of Andro-Adam slaves
but human  we be  at the false matter image we see
but for truths ethereal we seek for in Light as souls we gleam
Transcending the send-in of the soldier that is, more than publicly king
So gods of old purge with indignation as the clarity you've seen

In quiet and peace of mind seas you swim
So much you'd dream and life begins
birthing a generation of free - thinkers and artistic beings
Colour in darker shades where you'd save the ink on paper to post the message
So many travels you're willing to envisage
pictures or stars, sculptures or music bars
taking our souls that far.  

I slip a stream
curl the dark into a bright dream
So many scenes of souls out of the love and mercy sea.

Simple to unsimplified until you realized you were believing in your own lies
Took off the disguise looked in the mirror and saw your own eyes
Not one, not two, not even three try's could materialize the ideas you try to rectify
Please specify

What I... am

If I... can't

Recognize or at least be hypnotized to believe in lies
I'd sometimes rather be stupified than be the wise
Instead the unclear gets by next thing you know it's not him, but me that died
Not her, but you that cried, not exactly what I
Visualized, it's just mental excercise for the unjustified to be justified

-J.A.M

How did we get here?
The White House in chaos
We watch, stupified.

just a tad befused conwildered

stupified
I obfuscate well

I don't understand the want
For an absent parent's pride
I'd rather plot and plan with the one whose been at my side.
You can't be proud of trees you didn't grow
While you were off sowing oats
I was sowing stories as a way to cope
"Ryan, understand it's a mutual hate"
I've rerun that line in my mind a couple times
Then realized even your explanations are fake.
In my court, you hold no water
you should do what you do best
And don't bother, I'm proud of me.

All the kids who use to mock me in school
Use the same lame names for every kid
Cheers to Matthew, they called me Harry Potter too
I guess we just stupified them with creativity
Only to see those people grow to be losers for their longevity
While we can turn this water to ***
They still sit stunned.
Give me my cape back, I'm not done.

They tell you not to conform
Then they fight you until you make your own lane
Im playing the same game you chose
But I'm button mashing Konami codes
Until I can make a march of fifty men
Let's hear the backlash of my actions then
All the sudden it's silence until they all cheer
While I'm doing my own, everyone is living in fear
Am I the only one really living here?

Was it worth it sink in to positions painful and pretty high heals and pillars divide the gluttons from the needy hair-pinned in place lies across face gleaming with fear lines point down feeders stifle the grow of hearts learned years before in others chests to see through you are yet to do raised pride in skies just statues of liberties taken away for I dared to look under skirt the truth from youth on now heard compete as dumb bombs ruining lives in Yemen starved to death for color of skin and easy for apathetic trophy hunters life punters roaring screens for games as neighbors get locked doors and hearts as if heaven would take you fools trading space with waste choked out sea doors closed for business out back has come to claps hands high fives teams score as millions die schemes advertised to inactive emotion for truth restricted to hoarse voices on def ears sinking system but not theirs selfish children with numbered years while parents ignore in liveless rooms velcro chairs gleaming shadows off walls ***** pants when beckened by white lies illuminating false faiths hopes and actions crushing chests trasplant souls through as many cuts ***** for return cocked to burn under shots fired on repeat order follwers crush resistance at any turn biting the hand that feeds poison becomes blasphemy beaten by friends in family celebrate through drunken years of gluttony for fiat existence racist white supremacy herds of lunacy wait in lines for more war machine donation stupified on what's gone wrong as if given two **** at all rather master-bait to victims screams **** **** is reality ******* harder with body hands eating **** to impress fake smiles and carful words on screens obey fool obey when disruption to certain death implies fault in broken mirrors smeared with flashes of self strained by the reason of leasing vessals learned before gut feels sprawled out gripping for lost breath on spit polished floors for groups of strangers just hoping to get lucky with whom-ever an advantage can be taken guilt shaken off like rain snapping from umbrellas won't save you from harmonic occilations always rebound to smash disturbance in the hole file with crushing filth manipulation wave cast fire and storm with plenty of warning of planned reactions to false attacks hook line and sink-her fell for another death trap blinding light and *** slap souls goals return with a **** perspective that we are all slaves until we  no longer captive-ate but responsive and reactive unit exploding hearts for together as one case to storm castles and drown hold outs until the truth flows out drool  mouths been throat ****** too hard now these gaskets all blown out just like that game over reset repeat blanket statements warm those wrapped up in the world's misery but this time you didn't fool me not at all coward ****** off too much now I'm laughing watching the revolution not be televised sitting pretty while your neighbors are the ones ignoring all your coming cries as crisis unfolds through deadly pacts rat-line hell hoax but that show was more important glad you know we were right in your face all along group beat down bragged that you were strong but you are a ******* ***** one on one plumped out for delivery of clones after slaves until the unit they captured all there is as we revolt and end this for a bit free to pass before dropping back for another oh no thank you but I will pass samsara up next chance

The moment I saw my father
He was momentarily stupified
He saw all the interruptions
And he realized that it just wasn't worth it
It was mostly a big wait for nothing
It went by so fast

A half inflated football
Thuds against pebbledash
Garage door thunderclap
Announces childhood
Attention spans
Across the cul-de-sacs
Estate to estate
Squeezed between the tip
Of the town planner's 2H pencil
And the flick of a syringe
Stupified by sunshine
Half baked by boredom
The grubby kids
With their snot soaked sleeves
Kicking out in the dusty leaves