i wanna feel proud to call me home!

i wanna move across the world like a comb:
i wanna leave it answered
sinch the world shut with a handsome smile,
stitch me right up for the next few miles,

i know...

things've been fine,
but things could be great if i really tried!
and now i'm in need of a surefire man
to put fire in your life.

and new fire in your eyes.

help me, i'm talking to the mirror...
i need
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.
healthy conversations with a mirror...
i see
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.

i wanna be loud in my own home!

i just want a place
where i don't have to be an adult,
and that's my final answer
my number one goal til i die from cancer

i know...
there's so much more to life
but i made it through ****
like punk rock wades through strife

and now i'm in need of a surefire man
to put fire in your life.

and new fire in your eyes.


help me, i'm talking to the mirror...
i need
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.
healthy conversations with a mirror...
i see
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.

i see the quantum of a phoenix
i see the calibrated pieces
i see a chance to make this right

don't blink if you think you see it
but you just might not believe it
you've got a chance to make this right!

help me, i'm talking to the mirror...
i need
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.
healthy conversations with a mirror...
i see
a very certain man.
a sure- surefire man.

help me, i'm drowning in glass
i need
to get off of my ***
(i need a very certain man
i need a sure, surefire man)
healthy conversations with death
i see
a broken ******* mess!
(and a very certain man
i see a sure, surefire man.)

Little Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket
With the pixie cut high boot style,
Rolls her eyes sarcastically behind
Glasses, and a flirtatious desire
And wonders if the professor
Likes what he sees
At the smallest two person table.
Reading willing and able
To **** his student raw
Although she knows this,
That’s the plan;
Academic battle strategy,
She thinks it a talent
Double-talking with her hands to ****** him.
Wrist bones whispering
“No one else here has to know”
She shyly smiles and laughs in her mind,
“Sad fool thinks some day ill go home with him”.
“Sad fool just game me that extension”
The sad fool checks an email defeated,
Ms. Bleach-Jean-Jacket has won.

Veasna Ta Kvak recording
playback
over Chinatown cafe again
while recounting recent events
to journal pages
muddled from frequent
exchanges bag to bag
(Been to Taipei airport, Bali, Vancouver, most
recently)
blind fate
blind fate
shower me with Indian daisies
and photographs of Railway
New Delhi!
Hanoi Old Quarter/
Vietnam monsoon/
evening on balcony/
Darjeeling water boiled
and filtered anti-malaria
golden drink for honeylungs and
spring-soul morningtide
under moonlight canopy
of Avalokiteśvara
the fruitful
Bodhisattva!
English lessons
and future
hourless
comely chimera
in sleep phenomenon
Benares phantasmagoria YELLOW
(near Mata Anandamai Ghat)
speaking to Aghori
prophecy
Kala Bhairava
FIERCE ILLUSORY APOCALYPSE FAMILIAR
WHERE IS YOUR NOOSE?
the Ganges is full of lice and flowers
candlewax melted into holy water
sickness
equal to
harmony & jubilant
eyeclose and mouthcurl.

The future mysteries in
Mexico City poorboy
$2 mystic orb jade green
reflective underneath
dirt now in North American
bottom white four floor house
basement suite coffee table.
Visions indivisible
from the Viridian roundly haze
but surefire in their accuracy
I'm absolute
and universally formed
for the next few cacophonous
decades!

So many people are living lives that they're not in love with, && I've just never quite understood that.

How much exactly
did it cost to sell your soul?
At what point did you decide,
"this is now my life until I'm old"

The truth is we're all invincible,
until the day we're not
We've got to live our lives to the fullest,
for it's only one that we've got

To go about our days,
meandering in the mundane
Is surefire the best way,
to drive ourselves insane

We're meant to be free thinkers;
artists, writers, && musicians
Making the world a better place
should be our only aim && mission

Be kind to one another
We're all in this together
It's funny how the things that divide us
Are also the same ones that tether

Us to this forsaken planet
Feeling like we're broken
When at any given moment
Kind words can be spoken

Falling from our lips
&& lifting others' hearts
We all have the capacity to make a difference
It's just a matter of choosing to start

"What are you missing?" Metal asked.

Water was still and dark as Metal twirled before her. She dug her nails into her arms, and avoided the gaze.

"My voice," she whispered.

"And where did it go?"

Water stared at the dark Earth beneath her feet and said nothing.

Metal waited for a response. Metal never grew impatient. Indefinitely remaining, maintaining an immutable insistence and a fixed glare, Metal knew Water's patterns, and was always available the moment she emitted conflicting currents within herself.

Water managed only a hoarse offering, barely escaping the lump in her throat.

"It was stolen."

Metal could sense her riptides worsening.

Water turned her face to avoid Metal's eyes.

"Keep looking.... keep trying...."

Air whispered softly to her, though he was so low to the ground, so faint in form, he drifted lazily, and was easily dissipated by deft and brazen Metal, who continued to dance, unblinking and unapologetic.

Water bowed her head, secret tears forming. She tugged at her toes. She said nothing. She thought many thoughts about Metal.

Air had moved on to waft away and beyond, spanning time, place, memory, forgetting ever even encountering Water.

"But you have me now."

Metal grinned wickedly, widely, wildly.

And wasn't that the truth? Water had Metal. She had always had Metal. And she would never be rid of Metal, because Metal always managed to be a surefire relief. So why forfeit that certainty? Why carry on alone? What for?

Why keep looking?

Water wrapped her arms around her shaking legs and buried her face in her knees. In her tests with Metal, she often failed, or at least she viewed herself as a failure whenever she let herself become wrapped up, half-willing and passive, in such a rigid, yet wholly undefined relationship. Even simply considering the hard, calculating Metal swiftly invited a sense of defeat, which writhed wildly, quelling - suffocating - a love, begging to speak.

Metal walked the line between friend and enemy like the most silent serpent.

Metal was more easily vanquished in the old days, when Fire had spent his energy protecting Water. Fire was far less forgiving than Water. Fire held Metal to the same standard as poison.

"What's the MATTER with you-"
"You're never welcome-"
"Get lost-"
"*******-"

And after these, and other violent explosions, like all good volcanoes, Fire cast Metal into hiding. But, like all good volcanoes, Fire burned up so much of his power, and quieted to a small and delicate flame, occasionally flickering lovingly in Water's direction. These days, she couldn't see him through the curtain of her long hair, or the heaviness of her mind. Sometimes she swore she hallucinated him. Sometimes she imagined she had exaggerated his affection, even his existence.

Metal eyed Water greedily, who was now taking less and less space for herself.

"Make a decision."

Panicked and trembling, Water sank lower to the ground until she was curled up in herself, furiously holding back gasps, refusing to reveal her innermost surges of wretched pain and brokenness. She viewed these damages hideously, even though her softest self cradled them delicately like thorns-

"Well? Every moment, you are losing time."

She absorbed Metal's blade-like advice, regarding the certainty of such a cold, serrated tone. She remembered cunning words, trickery, lies she believed-

"Decide."

She felt false comfort. She envisioned the cutting moments before her downfall-

"Decide."

She recalled sharpness, rigid, unspoken rules, draining, unkind words, withheld affection, ripping pain, breathlessness, and the inevitable collapse-

"Enough!"

Water inhaled suddenly, as if she had just remembered how. Her descent slowed.

Metal stopped dancing.

Water placed her palms on the damp, rich soil, and looked down. She felt. She wondered. She inhaled. Earth rarely spoke to her. Earth was very hard to hear, and Water never knew why, considering how suddenly visible Earth was now. Air sang and whistled, Fire roared and radiated, and Metal... Metal stabbed. Metal slashed, sliced, and cut down everything from the outside in. Metal was so easy to hear, to obey...

"Surrender."

Water connected to her palms embedded in the ground.

"Surrender."

Metal stared, glistening, steely, a glint sharpening in eyes like splinters, oblivious to the warm, melodious voice resonating from below....

Or was it within? Water raised her hands and looked into them, uncertain. She placed a muddy palm on her chest and closed her eyes.

"Surrender."

Water was no longer certain if the voice came from within, like a heart current, or if her mind was turning around on its path. She kept her eyes closed, keeping Metal at bay, just out of sight and sound. She let Metal's voice slowly fade from her mind...

She breathed in.

"Surrender? Surrender what? Myself?"

"Surrender your hurt."

Water blinked, her eyes opening slowly. A tear fell.

"Surrender your pain."

Like a fresh spring rain, more tears fell. Water slowly stood up, finding her balance.

"Surrender your heart."

Water lifted her head. She stood. She was face to face with Metal. Metal glared back.

Earth steadied Water's feet. Water harmonized Earth's voice. Together, each offered the other strength and gentleness, ferocity and openness, power and kindness. They fulfilled the resonance we consider to live in all hearts when we are full and whole again.

"Let your love out. And let love back in."

Water lifted her chin. She let tears flow. The lump left her throat. She grew taller. She breathed in, softly and fully, and felt her heart burning.

"Let love out..."

Water locked eyes with Metal, realizing she was looking down. Metal had stopped dancing for awhile now. Metal was losing shine.

"Let love in..."

Water passed her silence to Metal as she took a bold step forward.

Been there
done that
check out the scars
Obliterated ear
Bullet wound swiss cheese
old heads die hard
Been there
done that
Fiberoptic cameras
phone taps
and surefire headshots
ensure the survival of the family
Gustavo would give you his coat
if his brains weren't covering it
Heisenbergs head
better be on a swivel
Mike will be back
and he'll be looking for work
Need money
to buy ice cream for his granddaughter
old heads die hard
Blue ice calls you back
green cotton is addictive
Been there
done that
Coming back
to get his.

which came first,
the chicken or the egg?
a century old question
with no forthright answer

the chicken,
whose regal presence
defines
the world is his abyss

the egg
in meek stature
remains a gift
to its ceasing world

the chicken stands proud
a surefire bet
the world-
its audience

the egg
afraid of itself
the world-
its personality court

all the world is a stage
every saying- a game
you know how the story goes,
the chicken never gains

(b.d.s.)

There once was a guest at my door named surprise
It told me 'Get rid of that fear in your eyes,
The world's a big place, with plenty of space
I'll always be here if the moment should rise'

So the clown and the wallflower danced
A strange dervish and buffalo stance
Till one disappeared, the other lost ears
And both wore a thin mask of chance

To rebel (to excel) (to rebel) To excel
To go your own way alone is a surefire hell
But a changeling's tight bind an instinct's soft mind
Bloom too late to sense the obvious spell

Caught on the wings of a nine
But somehow still lost on the eight
Stuck on the circuit with no end in sight
Waiting for the hourglass to break

Have you ever started hanging out with someone new only to begin wondering why you want to bathe in their shampoo and make poetry out of the way their eyebrows look?!
WELL NOT TO WORRY!
I have a few simple steps you can follow to destroy those feelings.

Step 1: Imagine your grandma's lips every time you feel compelled to kiss them! THIS is a surefire way to never want to look at them again. The embarrassment will hit you like a train. Unless you do like to kiss your grandma. In which case: (shrugs)

Step 2: Keep at least 3 feet of distance between you at all times. You will soon become obsessed with the inches between you instead of the warmth of their body on yours. If you get cold, buy a blanket.

Step 3: Leave yourself voicemails until your inbox gets full. That way, when you ignore their calls, you don't have to say "no" to their voice, only to their name on a screen. That's if you even want to respond them at all, because we all know the best way to get out of doing anything is to completely ignore the problem!

Step 4: When your friends start to ask where this person's been, tell them you don't know; even though you've been keeping tabs on their tweets to make sure they're still okay without you. Make up lies to tell your friends. Tell them they left you, so your friends will feel compelled to tell you how they were never good enough for you in the first place and that this will get easier with time. The truth is, that you don't want to talk about them again because their name adds to the clockwork ache of your stomach like you've been skipping meals since their absence.

Step 5: Stop making room for someone who's not coming, stop saving seats for imaginary bodies.

Step 6: Get rid of anything that reminds you of them; your favorite tshirt, the art piece they bought for you hanging above your head board. Matter of fact, get rid of the headboard too. Make your room even emptier without them. Don't let yourself remind you of them either because you'll have to get rid of that too. So start running, change the shape of your body so no one will fit next to you like they did. But just in case, maybe you should just keep running. Don't slow down for anyone.

Step 7: Give yourself a new name. It will get easier to hear from someone else in case they say your old name the way the person you're running from used to. Tell yourself that this is okay because you've been starting to feel like a stranger to yourself anyway.

Step 8: when the house in your chest starts burning down, leave your old self inside it, leave the memory of them inside it. You always talked about how romantic it would be to die together anyway. Wear your smoke drenched lungs like a medal of honor, let it hang from your neck like a noose that snapped from the weight even though you promise you stopped eating your meals without them.

Step 9: hold your own body close at night. Keep the pieces of youself pressed together tightly with your own palms. Don't let their broken ceramic promises crucify your hands, don't make a deity out of them if they're not the ones dying for your sins.

Step 10: Everything is in place. Stand in front of your mirror and try calling yourself by your old name. Recognize the foreign language leaking from your tongue, understand that you have turned yourself into an empty tomb, a massacre disguised as a new body. You never knew pain until this moment, placing your hand on the reflection in front of you knowing you can't even get through to yourself. Ask yourself, was this worth it?

Flippant polymaths exude the frippery of travail for lapsed inordinate surgical gains in temporal but temporary acclaim that owes its provenance to the gullarge accentuated by the guttural tempests of silent windfalls that wrestle with sharks and snarky cagamosis with pilfered fame without rulers for rules that own the profligacy of a cineaste game

We cannot surpass our talents with ease when the treecheese of inevitable distance between equipoise and insanity is a tantamount inanity of prolixity for the sake of freedom rather than servitude to the slow meandered steps of trudged verbigeration that needs to be exorcised from the seat of authority for the plodding inconvenience of time earned that shakes the listless yearning people who lie and spurn

Demagogues are trifles because they are anoegenetic and care not for the abligurition that consumes the energy of a dismal life lived on fringes rather than reaped with grimaces for binges that continue to absorb the painful pangs of twinges that hedonists are of interest

We cannot exorcise the demons that give stygian weight to exchequers beyond the gamut of money but rather the currency of velocity of thought that owes its weight to weightlessness of spaces between the spacious and the limited tract of isolative territory that many mendicants looking for sustenance travail in insolence and in perjury of their solemn duties for self-serious honesty they lack a vista to see their crimes as more than just a pettifoggery of disputatious wranglers that wrench and then contemn the objects of their moral scruples to contend with nothing but the vacant expanse of a limitless injury for a momentary slip of cultivation and countenance

Frippery is hard to cobble with lapidary wit because succinct grievances are fallow ground for the permanence of atrocity and the temperance of felicity to conform to the desiccated pathways of limpid but livid excoriations of willful ingenuity met with aleatory rambles that sprawl incalescence with words as a dying occupation that is resurrected from the abeyance of its pragmatic utility to distinguish class from crust.

The triadic fatuousness of snarky sharks recruiting the gullarge of paranoiacs to deputized alacrity lead many strident vocations astray as they pilfer the nullibiety of spectral ignorance and defy the gravitas of the primiparas of a swollen technocracy, an outrage that scarecrows with prevenance have adumbrated against with strident accelerations of sublime velocity

So we swim in perilous straits against the demiurge of inclemency in fated rittles for the turpitude of wraiths and engineer every aborning day a new foofaraw of unalloyed atrocity
Now more than never should be deployed to ensure that the castigation of scoundrels and guttersnipes that exert a rip tide to those stranded on the shores of littoral desiccation might find the pristine beachgoing public an amenable treat proffered by exorcised sheepishness in reiterative bleats that quarkswarm only the antinomy of sentient masteries by shoveled civilizations proctor to horological insistence in design

So we designated an abeyance of heydays to create a rippled nostalgia that creeps in the winter storms that singe even glabrous ignorance with the twinges in absentia of the regal crows that circle the sun as the sustenance of the alighted moon as we reach for the heaved Richter teeming with ablution for venial commination of prolix croons that exert a Palo Alto rhyme

Phenomenological fields distal to the cephalocaudal origination of limber and the ironic counterpoint to that strife in excess rather than dearth of the henchmen behind the exchequer showcase that fluid thoughts surpass the limits of the dentistry of cosmetic cosmology simultaneously a scientific boon but a coarse albatross

We are criminals in a world stranded by ****** apostasy because of the sincerity of minstrels meets plodding human ignorance as exemplars rather than the apotheosis of divine excoriation of wastrels and flattybouches who webdoodle their way into the extinction line in some computer file swiped from eccedentesiasts who often in uncouth barbarity forgetfully abide without the temperance of floss

So what are we to make of magisterial wits of wiseacres who pilot tenable objectives like Indiana Jones flexing his comical whip when the gunfire of cacophony inundates our ears with a lisp of cockalorum imposture rich in chewing tobacco and its ungainly gripes and tenacious grip

Should we seek salvation from the treecheese of arboreous terrain amenable to the newfangled windfall of agricultural whims that dare now with caprice but not quixotic disdain to reconfigure the parsimonious levered engagement of melliferous fungible transaction between sabbaticals and chief financiers dubbing the vociferous limn of the primeval fulgurant incandescent ethereal quips?

We strive for palaces issued with dimes, dozens and scores of retinues that retain the patina of sophistry as the gullarge makes the vangermytes cozy in their defensively mechanized citadel buffered against the unheralded malversations of mammon intersecting with primordial chemistry that give the philanderer a guise of philanthropy despite professed gainsay that perjures because hucksters are winsome with fiduciary risk

So we calumniate with lapsed puns and Potter’s Spells as we dredge the indemnity of bustling heydays that extend beyond the bailiwick stated because of the prolonged trace of nostalgia that frazzles our voluntary expeditions with misanthropy as each libertine instinct becomes subject to stop and frisk

How to balk at such a garrulous repartee as proffered by swanky intransigence that shakes it off in a quaky town that hates the Swift refrain that endangers the fatalism of recuperated foresight borrowed from the armamentarium of corrupted killjoys who swim in a dalliance with the itchy myths that drift from powerlessness to voguish debauchery of insouciant internecine fringes frayed by the tomes that decry Stygian drift

Shiftless and rooted in rintinole absolved by plackiques that enchant the voyeurism of repined squalor of industrious frippery deracinated from the aureate complicity of largesse calibrated to mobilize the skittish mercurial yuppies to a dance with divestiture, taxes and an earthen death, we sprint the evergreen mile toward the scrupulous invention of enthusiastic euphemisms arbitrated by the procrustean silt of the leaky faucet of enigmatic timelessness etched by chiselers to beat “Us and Them” and warn the vanguard of the front rank about the thespian rift

Exhaustive rescue squads prepared for the dearth of monetary heft in times of perilous drought denigrate the authors of famine to the indulgent parents of inordinate sabotage of narrative for riskless arbitrage that is the outrage of sciamachies between platonic indifference and the tantrums of the feckless in the dangerous hearth of the cavernous wilderness of limitless imaginations that stagger so far beyond orbit they become satellites to vagrancy and whittled paragons too distant to dissolve in the ethereal chemistry of incalescent uproar sadly flanged by the Dopplers of ephemeral fate

Squandered by the desuetude of a snarky intervention I issue invective at the proctors of deafferented limbs for barbarous swine meeting expediency in demise, bemoaning the placid distaste of rectified cries that issue candles for each acrimony beyond the permutation of the staid inflexible limit of 88’

Bashfully we careen through argosies of curiosity to fossick the stalactites of timeworn intuition and reckon with their converse ironies that drip faucets of mildew that remain hidden unless poked by plucky flashlights to inspect the paragon of erosive filigrees of a bewildering paradox of polarized design that one meets the ceiling at inception and the cousin strives to clamber empty space to know with faint certainty the bulldozed irony of superordinate coexistence

Now we return to the majesty of a spurned wiseacre that evades the snappy parlance of a wrenched friction between the physical and the metaphysical elements that constitute a commensurate reality so supernal that its ostentation creates lifetimes of reiterative growth that spawns crimson red and bloviated blues to find a fulcrum of balance between the malversation on one hand of criminal sinister machinations and on the other hand the execrable self-righteous ignorance of a hidden vehicles of dexterity that are subsumed by a subtlety of legislative graft that owes its forbearance to the sanctimony of perseveration without the laurels of persistence

Now we wed the concepts between the ambidexterity of a monolithic titan who wanes rather than waxes himself because his glabrous head already exposed requires nothing new because the empire that struck back is denuded by the thorny imbroglio of a sunken Rose

Timmynoggies are perfect for haberdasheries of saccharine and glib excellence as measured by the ****** cacophony of unmerited applause that strains the resourcefulness of the silent mastery of magistrates in mellifluous alcoves surrounded by the soundproofed rigors of an execrable dereliction wilt into the imaginations of the few that watch movies with errantry rather than pleasantries of gaudy nonsense enchanted by a striptease of the wanton zeitgeist that some balk at but everyone knows

Time earns the spangled banners of sloganeering because of the fastidious creations of pole folders that maneuver between quips borrowed from antique movies and swindled affectations of yearning of many of all fears inevitable with the malevolent passage of the technocracy from cheers to vehement inveighed jeers

We should fear the watershed because it necessitates the evaporation of winsome ambition and implores the subservience of a guiltless fascination with abominable regress concomitant to the acceleration of money preceding a whipsawed downfall ensured by the funereal spates of requiems to oneironauts who plunged to their deaths on headlong flickering whims past the craggy landscape of lunar concordance and through the abeyance of qualms to flabbergasted self-importance in the eradication of provident fears

Memorials exist encoded in the temporal twinges of agony that straddle the cardiovascular throbs of impermanence that sweat with each simple beat to blather about the repetitious nature of a livid nature scrambled in exodus of the emigration of senseless blather to the subroutines of regimented sleepless paragons of travail in every pedestrian feat accelerated with each passing foot traversed by vigilant and eager feet

Tempests crowd the cluttered hamartithia of dredged incompetence leading to the foreclosure that precedes the simple derelictions that amount to grievous uncertainties that squawk in the plumage of the frippery decay of an autumnal fall from gracile riches landlocked without room to sprawl rigged against every track that is a surefire gleeful keepsake to meet, greet and serenade the claques adorned with the monikers of the Greeks

Trembling beneath the weight of mellifluous sauntering dingy designs that exude the anguish of our provident but incidental remonstration against the plodding indifference of the artistic clerisy we sputter against intransigent annulments of the emotive human engine calibrated with creaky pistons that rumble with furor of abrasive protest in timely haphazard elemental designs for vanguard ears

Tridents shed the fossicked leaves that are divisible by two but not inevitably glue that solders the identities of people congregated around a situation of gleeful sprees rather than wistful regress into a temerity without regret that gets dangled in the purview of the spiteful wings of armies that drawl when they sing vapid songs for vaped bongs but not the soberly cheers because of the deafening din of conformity oblivious of the honorific crescendos that still peak after so many restless years

Confederates line the avenues of bustling caverns of cumulative human disdain so willfully flouted by the wrenched corrosive frictions of vibrant deformation of the cultural narrative that encapsulates the collective bubbles chewed and jettisoned like bandied candy and then defamed without justice because  hurricanes churn up the reclusive emergence of protective vanity chased down as a sunken cost for a siphoned glory of tribal pride despite the strictures of logic

Creeping with insistence is a subaudition of governing gravel that entombs many steadfast lies that embodied people living delusory lives under a paradigm that has been subverted by the feats of science into a morass of irrelevance and the chances are many of those so deluded still breathe the air now more polluted but balk at the memories of the fallen passengers on the convalescent train that accelerates sunblind but respectfully toward a systematic engrossment of swollen intellects whimpering about the tautologic

We finance our prescient rodomontade with rodeos equipped with zany clowns who spurn the tridents of Poseidon because of the iridescent gloss of sheepish and flippant zealots who churn against the wrestling match of televised irony with accentuated eccedentesiastic disdain amended by a tolerable diversion of ennobled gallantry zip-zagging among the many valid quodlibets and missing the mark entirely on purpose to vacate the possible raillery of those who balk at time’s chosen serpentine tracks because of limited pedagogical tracts

So lets solder a forceful brunt against the senseless regalia of modern omphalos and return to the plenipotentiary fields of resourceful human inquiry into the chagrins outmoded by convenience but amplified in vociferation by the prosthetic extension of a grangull humanity outfoxing itself into a zugzwang inevitable in the future with collateral losses because of senseless invidiousness orchestrated by the immiscible dermatology of divisive facts often about race and ineluctable tax

We conclude with the optimism that refineries become gentrified by the superlunary squadrons who bask in beatific beams of anonymity and that the pollution preceding our evolution is just adventitious rather than central to the amelioration of wavy screens ennobling so many upstarts to teach themselves the majesty of lucid dreams and to capitalize on ludic ideals divorced from the urchins of radical idealisms that ironically poach rarefied air with smug pollution of narrative scares

Without trepidation we can muster the largesse of civility to create a progeny that has a recursive progeny of heirs that defiantly imagine a world bereft of specters of the soporific imagination enforced by the lapidation of insight from termagants who stride with ursine acrimony naked bare and envision a global meliorism that is careful, picaresque, pragmatic and filled with meritocratic care

With those ornaments of an aureate measure in mind


We leap beyond the enumerated infinity in time's proper design

Yes! Yes! It's a great "Barry Hodges" memories poem involving *** and degredation!*

O Croydon, dormitory town of happy memories
With your delightfully sixties-style Ashcroft Theatre
And your many enchanting concrete underpasses!
O delightful borough so deservedly renowned
As one of the major English centres of wife-swapping,
That quintessentially bourgeous weekend pastime
And surefire antidote to inevitable marital ennui!
O gracious queen of the central south London suburbs
And gay paradise of semi-detached commutersville
O I cannot sing your praises ******* loudly enough
Nor can I deny the charms of your public toilets,
Where I have oft times enjoyed a **** with a gayish stranger!

‪Do what others need.‬
‪Bury yourself in work.‬
‪Brush until you bleed.‬
‪Drink until you're numb.‬
‪Cry until you're shattered.‬
‪Then sleep may come.‬

As though you know
I am somehow whole
and as though you know
I can stand on my own.

but my stance is shakier
and my voice is not quite steady.

both a weakness
and a strength,
my love for you is.

with you I am stronger than before,
and much more myself.

without you,
I am much more gone.

It started with a one-liner,
Now here I am can’t get over,
Not because I want it
But because I can not.

It is a sure silent affection
For, maybe afraid of rejection.

But you can’t blame
A prosaic girl that will never your like.
Tried to halt many times
Yet your charisma surefire.

Morning caresses my lips
With a squalid kiss -- the taste of last
Night’s stale liquor, a greeting most
Usual and unwelcome all the same.
Sated beyond means, I still am
Stricken by thirst, dry lips parting in
Consternation, heavy hands
Fumble aimlessly for old reliable, that
****** bottle of advil that may as well
Have its name etched in my dresser drawer
The morning after may be ripe with regret,
Hazy recollections draped in uncertainties --
But at least one thing remains surefire and
Constant --

Thump -- clank
My head, the door, my achy feet
Taking their first apprehensive steps
Into their habitual walk of shame
The mirror salutes me with the
Visage of a woman worn, tired and wildly aged --
There’s no way we’re the same person
Or are we?

first you need to pick a red flag of a boy.
make sure he's got beautiful eyes,
and a smile you can write poetry about.
actually,
make sure he is poetry--
find metaphors in his dimples and
similes in his crooked teeth.
the catch is, he can't be a good one.
he must have a tragic flaw,
something your friends can't stop pointing out to you.
for now, ignore those warnings and just focus on him--
talk to him whenever you can,
think about him,
write about him.
become drunk off his voice and imagine what his lips taste like.
fill your daydreams with phantom thoughts of him,
months & months flying by until
you can't imagine life without
the beautiful boy in the grey sweater.
now remember--
you're not actually with him yet,
yes
this builds the suspense
makes you wonder
if you'll ever actually taste his lips.
so keep your comfortable distance,
give him time
to make up his mind
if he wants to date you.
yes,
you've heard how he is with other girls,
you've heard what he's done to their ****** hearts
but oh never
could this boy do these horrendous things
he's too pure
says all the right things
but oh always
is the question banging in the back of your skull, now you MUST
give into those urges,
do it
feel it
ask it, ask him if he's
ever
going
to love you.
but you'll wish you hadn't,
because the hesitation will already be out of his mouth
before you can take it back,
his next words along the lines of:
"i thought we'd maybe just
have some fun together, if you know what i mean"
and the broken angel he's been hiding from you
for months,
the monster your friends have been warning you about
for months
will finally be brought to the light.
and that splitting pain of betrayal will come flooding in--
i'm telling you
this is a surefire way
to break your own heart.
-a.c.b

I wish i were a weapon======
Given a choice
I'd surely be a harmless bow and arrow ===>>>
But a surefire one...like those of Cupid's ===>>>
When released==>>>and aimed==>>> towards your body
My feelings ===>>> my energies ===>>>
Shall ride with its trajectory=====>>>>>
To be implanted in your body
Like a micro chip, buried inside your flesh...
Inconspicuous, as a coin on the ground...lost in  
A mesh...or the bullet of a magical laser gun,
No sounds....no pain, ===
Targeted towards your heart <3
My face...my love...my smile
Would be resting deep inside,
................occupying space
...................to claim your love
Deprive me not of your precious love,
I aim not, to deprive you of your precious life,
I mean to enhance our lives, for our hearts, to jibe<3
              <3 <3 <3


Sally

Copyright February 11, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan

The surefire way
         To cure a rainy day
Is a cup or a ***
         Of one Earl Grey.

When I was a child
I can remember being excited
When I could finally color
Inside of the lines

It was such an achievement to be able to do
What the adults had deemed
The way it was done
Color inside the lines
Think inside the box
Follow the rules
Do as you're told
But those are just surefire ways
To keep you from writing your own story

To live you must let creativity take hold
To untie your tethers
To guide your hand outside the lines
To show you how to think outside of the box
To remind you, it's not always about doing as you're told

To write your own story
You sometimes must color outside of the lines
Don't be afraid to have an original thought or dream

Decisiveness is a surefire way to know that I'm upset
If you ask me a question
And I don't linger
Prepare for a later moment where I yell, cry, or am completely silent
I am decisive out of necessity
I am decisive because taking my time is a luxury and I sink into like a bath
I wrap my hands around the bubbles, make myself a hat and ask you: "How do I look?"
If I'm decisive, it's because you've hurt me
And even though I want to take off the seriousness of my desicions like jeans at the end of the day
I risk losing my momentum
I risk losing your respect
Because you don't take me seriously when I'm indecisive
Because that's when I'm most like my myself

The tongue is lethal,
A sweet coating for a rotten core.
Every shift of the tide
is another lie.

The tongue is lethal,
a small dose of poison for the chronically ill.
Every promise is broken
and my heart becomes frozen.

The tongue is lethal,
a silent drowning in shallow water.
Every attempt to demoralize
the psyche brings tears to my eyes.

The tongue is lethal,
an eye wide open as my mind drifts to sleep.
This tongue of mine
is a weapon for surefire demise.

Nimble foe you've taken plenty o' life,
Condemned spirits of right to disdainful strife,
And illness of absence at that of departed,
Wrongfully beseeched at what you'd started.
And here with these twigs, I abolish at once,
Unable to return to these lands for months,
And shall we meet again at the glimpse of eye,
Let it be known that thou be sentenced to die -
Employed upon you ever so swiftly,
And might you remember such last moments stiffly.

Here I warn you once, no more,
And command you away from this land you'd tore,
For your existence has given thee such shame,
It is all but you, you are to blame,
And for once might you realize in agony, in fame,
Your callous actions have set surefire to name,
Alas, may you conclude tis' not a game,
As you walk among a blaze, for you are the flame -
At once, which all, seize to burn out,
Shan't you menace and retort with incentive to spout,
Rejection, forevermore, your friendly bloom,
Yet now even disgust stay wretched in Moon;
So that one day might you seek to learn,
That dissenters hereby are condemned to burn.

For the first time,
I realize I'm breathing.
Then I wonder if it's a fluke,
Sometimes the mind is deceiving.

The pain my chest once carried,
Gone with the wind.
I fear it'll come back,
So I wait-
levels of anxiety rising within.

When I look up,
I see that the cloud is finally gone.
But I'm still in disbelief,
because it's been there all along.
I can't remember a day that it didn't rain,
Until today.
Where is the pain?

I was consumed in it,
As it was the only surefire thing in my life.
Constant.
Never fleeting.
Til today.

Good riddance.
I'll still wear my rain coat,
keep a hand on my chest,
count every breath,
but for now I'm blessed.

"your flow is off; they have you beat!" Boarish cough let, the ref's presumed seed. Righteous in rhythm reels the ref in, why can time be so timid, is that a sin?

I really don't know, colors are so - surefire, concept's core dire. Bound to flow is hollow,  found a collar to follow?

Full of paint, the same words faint. The rhythm dies, as their cries. Atop that flop, they will stop. "leave me as is, leave me alone! I am happy like this." - snappy, a drone.

Climb the ladder from nether, whatever the weather.  Clear the skies, drop disguise. Be rigidly real, heart strings of steel.

How does this flow?
Laving the first row,
A lamenting show.
En fin, a lavish yo

you emerge, dripping
in your last
suckled drops
of youth

i envy your
handsomely/striated/limbs

each step in your
-surefire- stride
light, but loaded

eyes w i d e r than your mind

mouth agape
i can only wish,

"just one drop"