Though her eyes are jeweled crystals,
She is the annotation of a valid *****.
Asinine men still don't envision,
She is the offspring of Satan.

Women see her true form,
Underneath that pallid, limp skin.
With lipstick as red as strawberries,
The masquerade is precisely blood from the virtue.

Animals snarl at her without awe,
Yet she's the carnivore.
Her black crinkling hair covers her coyness,
Only to ****** the prey in the hotel room at dusk.

Do you remember me?
Do you remember the way you pulled at my hair
The way you bit on my shoulder
Legs
Thighs
Neck
The way you hit my cheek
And left marks of yourself all over me
The way you flung money on my face
The way you kept ******* me
Even though I was asking, begging
PLEADING
For you to stop
The way you screamed,
"Work harder you *****!
I didn’t waste money for you to stop"
And the bruises you left
When I passed out?
I
Am the girl
From the Red Room of The ***** House.
I
Am the ****
Who is ***** everyday
But society says,
"NO. It's all for the easy money"
I
Am the gold-digger
Crying for people to stop.
I
Am the story
Of eighty million **** toys
Behind the Curtains less Doors of Pleasure for Men.
No.
We aren’t **** stars.
We don't become famous for filming obscene videos.
We are just some toys
That men borrow
Like a rental car.
We are the colors
The society talks about in hushed voices
In the corner of a deserted street.
We are the discarded clothes
You never wore
Because they weren’t good enough.
We are the succubuses
Of every man's dream.
We are Pleasure
And
Lust
And
Money
And
Sin.
But,
We die a bit everyday.
We have felt, seen and heard pain
MORE than any one of you here.
We are WOMEN.
But no one holds a candle lit march for us
When one of us is *****.
Because
"It's all for the easy money"
Isn’t it?
We are the Strippers, the Prostitutes, the *****
We
Are the nightmares you never wish to have
We
ARE THE UNSHED TEARS OF A FORGOTTEN PAST.
do you remember me now?

Curse of a thousand year
Dear follower of darkness
Constricted and ashamed are the souls of the wicked
Dormant emotions fooled by vile peace
Wrathful demons...succubuses of darkness
Sacrimonious enchantments, fornicative souls

A trillion visions of the feeder of light
King of illusion, darkness, perdition
Why feed on the blood of the innocent?
Why feed on the words of the noble ones?
Child of doom prophet of chaos...

Oh vile Woman...Witches of destruction
Who has come to fornicate and defile
Silent killers dressed as nuns
Darkest of dark white blood in your hands
Why should this be endured?
Why should my mind flesh feed of your ghastly imagery, your seductive ways, your fornicative acts?

As I write this poem and words are portrayed in this paper I myself ask
Why is being a believer make us hated by the world?

Narrative stories, concrete facts
Now I portray myself onto paper
I am a noble. My heart enjoys peace a stary night, listening to the wind,
the birds human laughter...is this a crime?

God listen to me for I write again.

Hollowed spirit defiler of light
I have seen you come to the house of God and prey upon the living...
Lucifer temptor of mankind prince of darkness
How do I differ, how do I mend, how do I worship, how do I beg?
Spiritually you have come to attack me
My heart my soul my temple

I now dress as a warrior of light...
Holy armor I portray. Followers Of Christ unite talk to God,
for its Judgement shall be passed we remain holy.

Kingdom of righteousness, Father of Justice
Oh Jehovah I call upon your name.
Still water, serene spirit my mind...Is within me but the spirit of God
lives he has blessed me. I come to you all to share this poem
whom God has told me to write...I am fascinated am lost in words...
My heart is pumping my hand keeps moving, like a mighty
Mountain your eyes gaze at it's beauty Oh mystic like river, a trance
I sense within me, the graphite being spent here rejoices my every word.
I have held you long enough let me leave you this message
May the Lord be with you all of you let him into your hearts
For he will keep your soul safe and protect you from your own sinful
nature for the day you let him in, is the day your words become alive.
©Franko The Christian Poet 2016

the original intent was to stress... V: uvula... V: *****... ah! me drinking! me being the one to delve into mind bending tactics while others mind-bind: the binding of dialectical materialism... so soberness and... gaming... today i saw this... a madman, rich: only the rich have the luxuries of madness and fame... the poor simple break the ordeals of order of stating law under the luxury of God: in turn... i saw the children make it hard to understand: i focused in on one auxilliary... when you're ready: i'm ready to pounce! this person is clearly vulnerable... mileage later the stink was obvious... and he smoke like a dragon... Attari bandaid... dimmed Khaki top... sandals and crockodiles... expose toenails... in defence of this madman... Open Air Psychomania of the Asylum... gamers having *** with half-hood-heads of the 1960s post Holocaust expansion projects in North America...the Beatniks are all trans-gender to me: mon...          my mon.... or my man.... England has become an open air Pstychiatric Ward... it's the very first Open Air Asylum! it's amazing! i'm loving it! we can have open wards and open wounds and i'm no poet: i as first concern for veterinary science: i think i always wanted to become a psychiatrist... oh jeez: i think i am a psychiatrist... certainly not a pop pop, pop psychologist... or a dandy philosopher... i think psychiatry is a meeting of geology with philosophy... national portrait gallery: read a review... i will be seeing that Francis Bacon exhibition: simply for Lara vouches that the painting of Pope Innocent IX is there... something amiss... but 19th January is burning day of a month, no?

the poet is not a stand-up comedian:
i come from a culture of cabaret
and not stand-up monologues
who dropped their ***** i say: who dropped
their meat and two veg
i ask... who had the audacity to attack
the Harlequin... the other joker
the joker that only only women undertstand...
i just spent about ten minutes
on the throne of thrones
while playing Mech Arena and getting
into the group chat...
apparently: in gamer speak
i'm a WHALE...
          a ******* whale... not a shark...
a WHALE... poised to be taken advantage
of having my picture taken...
because i was the rebel anti-wasp
and i struck at the epicentre...
oh he might have all the spires and churches
and the bells and like trying to
confiscate Adam:
the uvula... the not *****:
the protruding Adam's apple:
i hate being subordinate to the Hebrews:
while all the while they spent
almost 2000 years in Poland it would seem...
but not really...
and then the **** came and expelled
them and told them: raise me Israel!
so that i can see that Zion!
i want to see Zion! from the ashes...
maybe Israel needs to disappear like it disappeared
when the Hebrews were asked
to head north: among the pagans:
but there's an impasse...
Islam is a monotheism akin to Yahweh's ways:
Je-Howah... he who hides them: the feminine...
plural... he who hides them:
he the baron: rock and rock rock 'n' roll...
gary glitters in the profanity of all that ***
and daughters and mothers....
who is my mother? my lover too?
why is my mumma crying?
i went to the store to pick up her orders...
turns out 2 x 2 = 7 x 7...
          not final soliution: this time...
just a chequers plays chess of **** symbolism
and hebrew symbolism...
so if clockwise: 3 ticks head forward in time?
and if counter-clockwise: just 1 tick back in time?
i was a wasp in a gaming community
chat room: Lothar... Mech Arena...
i was thinking first come first sparrow served:
first thought in my mind:
chess is such a vapid game...
i gave my books then went to school
in the glorious school of machinery: the machine...
i have no objevtive truths:
not that they are helpful to begin with:
just... subjective... experiences...
came across this acronym but i don't remember
it, it's long though and begin with R
ROLOMFO... if my memory serves me best...

reminiscent of the days of Comodore64
Atari... Nintendo: Mario Bros...
lunatic plumbers and via the dragon in the picture
why a dragon why not an overlarged
spider: saw a frog riding a serpent the other day:
toad more menace than a spider...
think about the terror and the whale
and whale being a mammal
while all other fish and squid and monsters:
think of the empathy relating to animals
and not other people...
you can't be empathetic to people:
only to animals...
but you can...
be sympathetic to people:
as a member of the species: class...
you can only be sympathetic to people:
your own species...
make empathy a reserve to understanding
other creatures who define possessing consciounsess
differently: so well ordered: without the word of God...
and with the world of God:
so did Stan the Satan lies to us:
fruit? good and evil: they're words: aren't they...
there is no good or evil
on the canvas of sparrows borrowing
worms and the Francis Bacon:
the canvas of: there be parasites... so?
didn't we get the other canvas to work away from nature:
via word...
well terrible **** does happen in the natural world:
i thought you left?
you didn't leave: maybe that's why Matthew the Satan
is still here: and some other Satan will come along
and ask the cherubs:
so they, they... they think they're still here?
jeez... i've been trying to get them to leave
and stop worrying: i told them
the natural world is not their domain of exploration:
they need to explore the personal,
the psychological:
they need to give the soul a name...
unlike calling a crow a crow...
they need to name their soul: they need to give a name:
abstracting a chair via the word chair...
before the chair there was some variation
of geonometry combined
and leverage... some intuition...
which was before intuition became a forgetfulness
and a memory chasm:
when intuition became knowledge...
a thirst... an eating of the fruit:
of being part of the *****: of order of nature:
when man fell...
the fall of man is here...
lack of intuition created fear and knowledge...
the animalistic endeavor into digesting
anger is the last resolve that Buddhism will not leech off of me...
but i need to revamp Christianity:
and i am angry: fuel my *****...
not soberness and gaming... and spending time:
arguing with a Whale
in the craustacian bucket...
*****... please...

i said: chess is vapid... but this is chess...
MeCH Arena is 3D chess...
not like war robots: which became final fantasy 7...
esque...
but i left the console cinema a long time ago
when Nitendo Mario Bros. 2D became Playstation Tenchu 3D...
Alex still wonders how i managed
to get so far in FFXIII...
not even cheat codes:
an empirical impasse:
the Japanese are confused:
there was this one European that didn't
understand Final Fantasy 8...

but i only said: well.. gentlemen... as long as everyone
is having a grand ol' time...
as long as you didn't spend that money on
Only Fans...
i don't mind you going to a brothel... physically:
and all that... otherwise:
i see i am both man and the anti-zodiac
anti-magic: anti-woman:
"they": THEY said i'm a whale:
put that in your hexagram-pentragram...


          oh sure, yes...
                          alright, there... Sheriff...
talking to my woman?
did i call him Sheriff or Sherlock...
oh... now i remember... hey... ch'ief... you looking for
something?
******* gamers like Swifties... hone brigade
so offensive to say: you guys... pay for this ****?
fair enough fair enough:
Lothar has spoken...
as long as you're not giving it to sycophants and succubuses...
just not a stand-up show:
more clarinet and cabaret:
something french and less *******
my pants about to die monologue testing...
Logan i'm ******: so... we missed the mouth...
the mouth-project?!

i hear school girls cuss and swear
while wearing provocative tools of skirt
and socks and naked flesh
then i think of Reyla and her apathy
and i drown in my own inability
to withstand the pressure with her...
i want to die with her...
and maybe someone else...
and it breaks my heart that no brother
no father
and i can be a male and with that lineage
of Plato i can make a playground
of my own: but poor girl her...
from where to where:
quo vadis: what inspiration?
these 2nd generation nagging housewives?
i was bringing... 6 of the same...
******* winter jackets! i felt like an idiot!
but then i didn't... because
the grace of god descendent and the stoic.