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"subjections" poems
*talking to ritchie (a scaffolder on the Whitechapel project of the cross-rail) and his girlfriend nicholle, the smurf who i told about gargamel... while almost begged the sri lankans to buy a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of diet pepsi, past the allowance for the shop's opening hours and catching the last bus from chasing the cross... me and ritchie got talking randomly... hugged and shook hands by the end of the encounter, i don't know why; ritchie was a scaffolder... i told him i was once a roofer... i don't know why i have a healthy affiliation with scaffolders; nicholle the chihuahua walking in front of us reminded us of drug testing on the building site, i said a day off, she said a day without pay and randomised crap like curtains... now i remember why i didn't join the crew with girlfriends, i'd be in a mental asylum by now, should they exist, otherwise with the failure of community care projects... maybe that's why women look amazing in ***** but cats look better in real life; i'm not even trying to be sexist, it's just too much reality.* i have only a few words for her: why won't she touch me? why am i to resolve my objections like this, ah, i see, because they are objections to that subjections that are of man succumbing to woman and the ordeal of chore; that are, man objectifies woman with all that *********** while woman makes countless subjects from him to appease her, while the world around sees no appeasement... indeed in the crusader's song to later show, as a psychosis (elevation of soul via the body's non-existence, a funny atheism) i'll show you a levitated stone, that doesn't require stones or loafs of bread for proof of alchemy; cup my hands in tears to capture tears like rainwater... make my eyes a convent.... i say a convent not a covenant! da pacem domine - and i see the mother nuns ushering the flock into carcass of obedience, a volume of body as tall as the pyramids; why are we the defending? what pleading would craft an altar if not to compare idle prayer crafted as a larger spectacle to allow marriage in its eyes permitted...    when i'm the sparrow of sorrow i sound like my mother, because of you, it's what i see that's to come that makes me disbelieve the magic of the advert, and embrace the advent of the saints in petulant prayer.
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Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 7:16 PM UTC
the hooded knight
*talking to ritchie (a scaffolder on the Whitechapel project of the cross-rail) and his girlfriend nicholle, the smurf who i told about gargamel... while almost begged the sri lankans to buy a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of diet pepsi, past the allowance for the shop's opening hours and catching the last bus from chasing the cross... me and ritchie got talking randomly... hugged and shook hands by the end of the encounter, i don't know why; ritchie was a scaffolder... i told him i was once a roofer... i don't know why i have a healthy affiliation with scaffolders; nicholle the chihuahua walking in front of us reminded us of drug testing on the building site, i said a day off, she said a day without pay and randomised crap like curtains... now i remember why i didn't join the crew with girlfriends, i'd be in a mental asylum by now, should they exist, otherwise with the failure of community care projects... maybe that's why women look amazing in ***** but cats look better in real life; i'm not even trying to be sexist, it's just too much reality.* i have only a few words for her: why won't she touch me? why am i to resolve my objections like this, ah, i see, because they are objections to that subjections that are of man succumbing to woman and the ordeal of chore; that are, man objectifies woman with all that *********** while woman makes countless subjects from him to appease her, while the world around sees no appeasement... indeed in the crusader's song to later show, as a psychosis (elevation of soul via the body's non-existence, a funny atheism) i'll show you a levitated stone, that doesn't require stones or loafs of bread for proof of alchemy; cup my hands in tears to capture tears like rainwater... make my eyes a convent.... i say a convent not a covenant! da pacem domine - and i see the mother nuns ushering the flock into carcass of obedience, a volume of body as tall as the pyramids; why are we the defending? what pleading would craft an altar if not to compare idle prayer crafted as a larger spectacle to allow marriage in its eyes permitted...    when i'm the sparrow of sorrow i sound like my mother, because of you, it's what i see that's to come that makes me disbelieve the magic of the advert, and embrace the advent of the saints in petulant prayer.
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I wish I were deaf Not death itself Just unaware of sound Everytime it comes around I'd have to ignore your call I'd would even feel the fall I'd be cold but I wouldn't fear The very last of an old year I'd have to smile at conversations Not worried of its subjections I'd be a little boring really At least I wouldn't have to worry I'd have to caress everything See and feel the lightning Touch your goosebumps to know That your heart can still glow Every single time
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May 5, 2019
May 5, 2019 at 3:44 PM UTC
Wishes come true
The devil is a beautiful woman, I crumble in her haunting presence. She's stained inside the past and she ascends into the present. She purrs and twirls inside my ears, "the devil's voice is sweet to hear." That's a pretty .22, up there above the fireplace, I bet it would look prettier reflected on my pretty face. The devil is a pretty girl, her shadow is Tahitian pearl. She comes and goes without consent, she plagues my dreams with evil **** I wish the devil was here now, she'd grab a knife and show me how. The devil has the worst suggestions, I'm prisoner to her subjections. The devil is here and she is vile, I think she's going to stay a while. The devil and I might become friends, I hope she doesn't leave again. We could cook our dinner fancy, play around with necromancy. Maybe the devil isn't real, she's just a feeling that I feel.
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Jun 9, 2019
Jun 9, 2019 at 6:35 PM UTC
The Devil is a Beautiful Woman
The coolness of being hot...😎😏 The goodness of being bad...😏🙄 The injustice of justice...😓⚖️ The independence of slavery...😣😮‍💨 The weakness of power...☹️😲 The savagery of civilization...😶😌 The subjections of rule of law...😭🤣 The plays of politics...😁🫣 The inactivity of PVCs...💸😌 Believe me... I didn't say anything...😶📢
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Jun 29, 2022
Jun 29, 2022 at 6:04 AM UTC
Believe me