When the world is in trouble and theres nowhere left to turn.
Well your **** outta luck till then theres the Gonzo report.

Live from hidden location in a Florida basment broadcasting
now it's time for the Gonzo report.
With your team of in depth and seldom sane news team.

Your anchor man Gonzo   co Anchor that Batsheba
weather chick Neva finally gotta mention Flores.
Sports with your favorite ****** Richard Shepard.

And then theres Paula Swanson  who's sitting on my other side
I dont really know why  but eveyone likes Paula so who gives a *****.
Who wants a sandwhich im just saying.
And are field reporters Jeremy Wyatt,Chris Smith,And Mr E,

This just in.
A old man lost control of his car running over 17 people
and seriously ******* off one dwarf.
And if your keeping track at home kids it's old farts 20 crazy texting while driving teen *****   15.

Theres big trouble in Cairo kiddies  with more  no the situation
are own version  of snooky Bathsheba   take it away.
the camera zooms into  the   queen of Hello.
I swear to God Gonzo if  dont back the **** up i will knife you
you crazy *******  and put some ****** pants on you ******.

Yes Bathsheba ******* the outside  and  kinda ****** all around as well
but enough with the foreplay children.
Oh look Paula made cookies!
Baths began here report on troubles that had befallen this country
And as i mixed a drink it made me wonder.
Were the **** is Eygpt.

Opps looks like i dropped my cookie.
Like a mighty ninja with a hot flash I was met with a searing
pain to my nose.
In the name of Cindy Crawford what was that for?

Thats for even thinking bout going under that table.
But .
No Baths replyed  then hit me again.
The pain the agony my modeling carear.

Now with coverage from the World Series  heres Richard Shepard
Richard Can you here us.
The cam camera  cut  to a shot of a monkey masterbaiting in the Bronx zoo.

Yes the production team of Goldie and Joel M Frye
when not watching hot oil dwarf  varsity wrestling death match
there top notch.

Richard  dear lord man were on air it's no time for that now.
This isnt Chris's  bachelor party.
That isnt Richard you ****** Baths  spoke in that charming yet
Voice that told me if i didnt stop I might get a free *** change
voice of her's.

And it's not the world Series you half wit it's the Superbowl.
No  wonder  there was no mention of the stanley cup.
Baths what do you not know.
So after i mixed another wild turkey and put a mirror under
Paula's nose to make sure she was still breathing.
I told her  the roofies really help with the nerves.

Finally The artist formely known as Jack Horner   was live on the screen  from some cult meeeting it appeared.
*** they've captured Fergie.
Richard take it away.

Well these ***** keeping fighting over this ball.    
Runnin back  and ****** forth its driving me ****** bonkers.
Oh yeah amigo I these knickers ya asked for.
Richard held a pair of black *******  to the camera yeah
smell of  no talent  and overproduced songs.
dam you slash.

Back in the studio.
Ummm haha well i didnt ask him to steal anyones *******.
Paula broke the awkward silence i dont wanna go to school.
Paula you alright?
***** you John Travolta.

Ok well also at the world series of poker Jeremy Wyatt and he's got a special guest Taylor Swift.
Great god of the traveling  flying squirrell monkeys pants.
anything but her.

Screaming like a naughty little school girl with a  bad texting  habit
on a unlimted plan i dove underneath the news desk for it's better
die at the heels of Baths and a tap dancing kinda drugged Paula than   face a evil more sinister than Drew Dillegence or Ghandi  combined.

Jeremy was in the danger zone note even knowing it for beneath that
yummy little body layed the soul of satan  himself.

It was Nashvile  a few whiskey laced years ago  I was a drummer
for local sessions  she was 16 I.
well I wasnt.
you mix in some drugs s0me cars crashes knocking over a liquor store or two.  
That little hell cat had a thirst for danger  and some  lets just say
weird habbits   okay it was more like a curse.

Strange things happend to here past lovers.
John Mayer,  The gay cowboy from Broke Back Mountain  you know
that movie about the sinking ship, and that lesbian  from the Jonas Brothers.

Yes just as soon as she wrote a song you were good as dead.
You'd vanish to here secret torture chamber were her music played
non stop   and your blood was drained slowley so she could feed
her own talent or lack there of.

Jermy puzzled  hey Gonz you there Baths umm Paula ?
Underneath the saftey of are second hand news desk hey look gum.
huddled togather like three okay one drunk monkey and a passed out frat sister and a very ******* Baths please dont stab me im
fragile   like a aged bottle of good whiskey im just saying.

We gotta make a brake for it look Baths  you distract her im blowing this joint  like a long winded madman  on a five day binge
let loose on old country buffet.

Baths   spoke   in a  language  that was always a challenge  for me
called sanity.
Gonz if you dont let me out from under this desk.
Im going to rip your heart out and feed it to the  homless dwarfs.
And heres a napkin Paula's drooling on you.

I have a heart?

After a brief break.
And another check to make sure Paula was still breathing we
returned.
Dear lord where's Jeremy!

Screams could be herd Jesus Richard   it's no time for killing hookers
But 10 dollar beers  are a real kick in the ***.
Oh well Wyatts  gone he'll be missed.
this just in Taylor Swift to release her new single Why  Not  Jeremy!

Dear lord sweet sallys *** it was code she had taken him hostage
in the love of all things lady gaga  someone had to save my amigo.
except me  cause that ***** was crazy  and she's got a hell of a bite
im just saying  stay  strong   Jeremy  and think happy thought's

I could feel the ****** clamps and smell the burning flesh
from the car battery as we speak but enough  bout me and skeeters
personal life.

now its time for the weather with finally she's gotta mention Neva voice like a angel  Flores.
thanks Gonz that southern bombshell replyed okay in the south.

Alright Neva that was great  like i need to hear the weather.
I havent been outside in  seven years.

This just in Mr E  has been taken hostage in Cairo.
Well kids all i can say is as much as this hurts
we dont deal with terrorist  like we could raise a hundred bucks.

The bulletin came across the wire Raitch with a look of dont **** with me   Gonzo  although Pepples  thinks your okay in a ***** kinda pervert way.

All hells breaking loose  a all girls school for hot super models    
in trainng.
Baths  in shock and mock concern replyed oh dear lord.
I dont who has chops to cover such a story in short notice.
Raitch  Oh Baths I dont know either   ive herd  there ripping  each others clothes off   hair pulling its worse than a prison riot with
hot half naked strippers.

Baths kept speaking but in the name of chain gang women
i was lost deep in thought over ******* and world events
while downloading  pictures of Fergie eating a banana
what im a health nut okay.

Yeah I dont know who should go cover such a story right now hint.
Gonzo Baths and Ratich spoke like a tag team of terror hint!
Hey I should go shouldnt  I  ?

Yeah Gonz  ya think ?

With some ***** looks from the people who much like my family
wish id forget there names.
So they wouldnt have to join the witnness relocation program
i love it when they play hard to get.

Finally i was off the trusty Gonzo Report news van  waitting for me a bottle of wild turkey and some fine reading materials by that thinkers mag hustler waitting in the back.

There my amigos stood standing togather waving goodbye.
crying tears of joy hey is that a keg?
Chris on the turntables im beginnning to think it was a party.

But if Chris  was there just who was driving the Gonzo van!

The little dwarf laughed in glee as we flew threw town
like Charlie Sheen on a coke binge.
I was tossed around  like a beach ball at greatful dead concert
as finally   over the cliff the van flew.

There was a explosion that could be herd for at least a half a mile
course that was drowned out by the party.

The party was in full swing  finally Paula awoke.
Hey what the  hell happend and why is Trimman
******* my leg?

                                  
                                  Is Gonzo really Dead?  
    
    Will Jeremy Wyatt ever escape the *** dungeon of Taylor Swift.
                    
                        Will Richard Shepard ever put out a book
                        how kick lots of **** yet win the hearts of millions
                        and do a co write with lady GaGa and Mel Gibson?


                    Will Neva Flores  get ****** over her five second
                     mention hunt me down  and torture me for hours
                     im just saying  a girls got needs.


                    Will Paula Swanson  kick Trimman like a field goal
                                                    or just pass back out?

               Find out in the next action packed trillogy  called
                                          The Death Of Gonzo  

                       Untill  Next Time Stay Crazy Kids

expectant eyes turn skyward
to a faint familiar sound
the falling snow hypnotizes
as I breathe in it’s cleanness

the calmness in me begins to grow
on my cheeks a cold blushing glow
as delicate feather soft flakes smile
and sweetly kiss my lashes and face

lace upon lace builds a quilt of ice
weaving a blanket of fresh fallen white
standing still, I listen so intently
to the quiet hush of snow falling gently

Tuna sandwiches on white bread
Carried in a paper bag
Josh Groban on the CD player
Season Three of 2 broke Girls
Matching shoes and purses
Vacation in the Pocanos
Subscription to People Magazine
Pennies in a piggy bank
Silver-beige 4-door Accord
A little college but no degree
Always ten pounds overweight
Celebration meal at Sizzler
Artificial Christmas tree pre-lit
A mole that wants removing
Off white walls, pale green carpet
Outfits from mail order catalogs
Paydays with no yearly bonus
Jeopardy and Wheel of fortune
Polyester perm press everything
Bic Stik ball point pen
Swanson's TV dinner
Flip phone with no camera
*** two times a week and Sunday
Writing verse nobody reads
ljm

I’ve lost myself.
I no longer know who I am
and I’ve looked at all those poems I had to write in English
you know the ones
the acrostic poems where teacher makes you use your name as the word
and the lines off the letters are supposed to describe you.
Yet I don’t see myself as that person anymore.
I sign my name as Paige Swanson
it’s the name on my birth certificate the one my mother decided on.
Paige is the name I respond to
Swanson is the name I sometimes despise.
Thats changed over time though,
because when I was younger I liked my last name and despised my middle.
I’ve reached high school and the only thing unique about me
about my entire name is the middle one.
Bobette.
It’s the name that people don’t expect and don’t believe
at least not the first time I say and spell it.
Bobette.
The name I decided to use to find words that people think describe me.
I don’t know who I am so I’m trying to find out through my friends.
Through my middle name.
B - Beautiful…or so my best friend and boyfriend say.
Beautiful not just face and body but soul and mind.
Beautiful words in writing
and paintings on canvas.
O - Observant… I notice and remember the little things
the chain on someones necklace being messed up
when someones makeup is smudged.
Other peoples feelings
more so than my own.
B - Bereaved as I’m still missing my grandmother
my pets
my old friends
and when I used to know who I am.
E - Electrifying for my personality
for my looks
and attitude
or maybe just because I have a tendency to shock people.
T - Ticklish not that you get to know where
and as my boyfriend has learned in the past 2 months
tickling me can lead to 1 of 2 things.
Either an extreme act of violence or kissing. (at least when it comes to him)
T - Tender even though I may not always seem like it
as I’m the friend and girlfriend that playfully hits you
but as soon as you’re actually hurt or upset
I’m there to try and help take the pain away.
E - Entrancing as I apparently distract people
or did they say enthralling as I keep peoples attention
no I think it was Enchanting as like a fairytale my personality keeps people watching
wait…those words all mean the same thing…never mind.
Bobette.
The only unique part of my name…of me
and I’ve used it to find who I am
but all I’ve done is find words that people think describe me.
Not who I am
and I think I’m more confused now than I was to begin with
So I have a question…
Can someone tell me who I am?
Cause I have no idea anymore.

The hp deathstar  had all but sqaushed  are rebellion.
And the pub falcon  was being  looked for parked in front of everycyber  bar across the net  so it really ****** cause capt Gonzo
was really thirsty.

We had  taken refuge on endor for awhile  untill
thoose fury *******  got ******  over a simple misunderstanding
they sure were some horney little teddy bears .

In thinking over  were to hide  there  was mention
of  eurainus to which I replied.
Get your mind outta the gutter  man.
you just said eurainus.

Cp bathsebo  and  R2 Swanson said s0mething to which
I  jokingly replied hush the men are talking once wasnt to smart.
Ever been kick to the grown  by a steel high heel shoe
hopefully the numbness will wear off.

Master golden had  taught me much  
but that was many drinks ago.
How am i supposed to remember that far back
yesterday was a blur.

So **** it lets kick his *** already jack skyhorner said.
Darth Elliot was mighty the battle was hell.
I would have joined in but someone had to  rob the liqour
cabinet   besides  Honzo  Gonzo  a bit of a hangover.

As the stormtroppers  aproached  screamed like a 13 year old girl and ran to fire up the pub falcon.
As the others  said what about jack I said  im sorry but he's gone
it was brutle  i took out as many as could.

But Jack would want us to move on.
Just then  Jack appeared  and said nice scream gonz.
We blasted across  the gallaxy with no direction  cause ya know
how guys are about asking  for directions.

Fully stocked and and reloaded so to speak.
Drath Elliot    was amighty foe.
But no match for  the outcast  girly screaming
Capt Gonzo

The neighborhood's gone to ****
and no one seems to care    the doors

are blown off from the tempest
blackening the air.  Swanson sleeps

with Harbors who takes Johnson in her mouth
while Johnson picks spare change from

the cushions in his couch. Brinkley's
unemployed but subservient to Mrs. Langer,

while Desmond reaches for two shotgun
rounds and places them in the chamber.

Boom went the weasel and Jill's on
methamphetamine

while the neighborhood we knew and loved
went harshly down the stream.

The months can be a ***** and the year's
have been a *****,

the neighborhood's gone to ****
and I'm finally crawling out the door.

WAGON WHEEL GAP is a place I never saw
And Red Horse Gulch and the chutes of ******* Creek.

Red-shirted miners picking in the sluices,
Gamblers with red neckties in the night streets,
The fly-by-night towns of Bull Frog and Skiddoo,
The night-cool limestone white of Death Valley,
The straight drop of eight hundred feet
From a shelf road in the Hasiampa Valley:
Men and places they are I never saw.

I have seen three White Horse taverns,
One in Illinois, one in Pennsylvania,
One in a timber-hid road of Wisconsin.

I bought cheese and crackers
Between sun showers in a place called White Pigeon
Nestling with a blacksmith shop, a post-office,
And a berry-crate factory, where four roads cross.

On the Pecatonica River near Freeport
I have seen boys run barefoot in the leaves
Throwing clubs at the walnut trees
In the yellow-and-gold of autumn,
And there was a brown mash dry on the inside of their hands.
On the Cedar Fork Creek of Knox County
I know how the fingers of late October
Loosen the hazel nuts.
I know the brown eyes of half-open hulls.
I know boys named Lindquist, Swanson, Hildebrand.
I remember their cries when the nuts were ripe.
And some are in machine shops; some are in the navy;
And some are not on payrolls anywhere.
Their mothers are through waiting for them to come home.

Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com

                   As Gloria Swanson Did Not Say in Sunset Boulevard

We are great -
It’s the MAGAs that got small

I want to let you all know how appreciated you all are.  Your kind comments and encouragment keep my pen flowing.
Poetry for me started as a way to fill free time while recovering from major back surgery 3 years ago.
It quickly turned into the healing balm itself.
I have been diagnosed with severe depression.  Post traumatic stress etc.
Poetry is my outlet for stress and anxiety.  Perhaps that explains my prolific sessions and then my dry spells.
I wish I had the inner fortitude to comment as I would like to all of your amazing poetry.
Perhaps in time, as the healing process continues, I will feel free to open up privately to each of you as I would like.
Each time I write a comment, it is with many second guessing and editing.  Wondering if I am hurting, judging or unententionally causing the author pain.  So know that the comments I give a genuine and heartfelt.  Not just a quick flip of the keys.
As I write this letter to you all, I am fighting the strong need to delete and shut down.  But I must push past the block.  This is a start.
Please know that I do read them all. They have made me feel close to my unseen friends and poetic  family.
Thank you for being here and offering me a glimpse into your hearts and souls.  I have been pleasently rewarded.

Paula Swanson

I know your game
You better be ready
because me and Glynny Boy
are gonna get yaa!

Drew, watch out
I know what your up to
and you Bathsheba
and you Swanson

Lol jokesy I'm not a mind reader...

I like Salmon and BACON sanni's
Lots of love
Howard
XxxxxX

as ever, the English got something right! i adore sport... and what i adore most about these Commonwealth Games? the Olympians are competing at the same time with the Para-Olympians... that's brilliant! when the usual Olympics takes place... the abled bodied Olympians that have their games in the first two weeks... then there's a break... then the Para-Olympians have their games... ****'s sake! the two games should be coupled-up! what's that i hear? games for the "spezial kidz"?! what a load of *******... when i was completing my NVQ for crowd safety i was asked the question: what are British values? i replied... aren't they universal? i didn't even mention the details of the question: i thought the question was self-evident in that it was universal: British values are universal because they can be understood by anyone and anywhere... ergo? the Para-Olympics should take part at the same time as the able-bodied Olympics... why muddle-coddle these wheelchair bound ******* to a later date?! ****'s sake! they should compete at the same time... i'd probably run a slower time than some of these wheel-snuggling swimmers of the air... it's not fair that the Olympics is separate from the Para-Olympics... and the former Olympians turned media pundits wonder: why aren't the Para-Olympics getting the same coverage as the "original" Olympics... hell... if it would have to take 3 weeks rather than 2... so be it... these people should compete in the same time-frame! that's ******* discriminatory! what special status? no special status! they compete at the same time... they get to entertain the same crowd volume! i don't care! they should... how does it feel cycling past someone in a wheelchair? i forget to ask... i always forget to ask a question about the weather... or the taste of quails... silly me... well... it's slightly different when i see a: POKRAKA... "freak"... that's a result of the irresponsibility of a certain adults inter-breeding... cousin-*******... someone people should have learned a valuable lesson a long time, a long long time ago... i don't blame the half-witted eighth of a Forrest Gump... i just look at the "mother" and "brother" and think nothing but disgust... not even donkeys get their reproductive conduct so wrong... for a creature so highly evolved: we're stuck with cousin-******* and the "myth" of Oedipus... but at least Oedipus was an exception... i imagine that he didn't gauge his eyes out... instead became an ******... then again: what are myths? stories better than any journalistic affair... myths > history > journalism < fiction < poetry... but Para-Olympians should be competing on the same stage as the Olympians! take an extra week... but don't do what's already being done! done segregate the two camps of competitors! take an extra week! let both compete at the same time! it's not fair that once the original Olympics are finished: the crowd isn't there for the Para-Olympians! i know it will be harder to attract the same viewership for women's club football... female boxing... female rugby... i'm already baking my own cakes... cooking my own food... cleaning my own house... today i surprised myself... what herb is most abundant in my garden? beside rosemary? mint... i was cleaning the garden and i had to cut down an overgrowth of mint... well... how many ******* mojitos would i have to make? how much tzatziki? a lot... there's me: bloated... lying under a floating table: drunk but probably also hallucinating Aztecs ceremonies of human sacrifice... MINT ICE CREAM... wow... i'm getting good at this ice-cream business... i simply hate chocolate ice-cream... but mint ice cream? ooh... and chocolate chips... the crème anglaise is ready... just chilling overnight... i'll churn it tomorrow... by then the chocolate chips will be added... and i didn't even need to add any food flavourings... it's this pristine green... fit for ice... a bit like that Frank Zappa song: don't eat yellow snow... ha ha... because someone has ****** into it... i love green... pale green... then again... no wonder i dress up like a tree from time to time... my irises are green... gween boyo wonder(s)...

sometimes i have to admire thespians...
as much as i despise the whole lot of them:
esp. when they come together
and self-congratulate themselves...
mind you... there are actors and there are
"actors":
       most notably "actors" as depicted
in Singing in the Rain: prior to the talkies...
but at the same time...
actors like the fictional Gloria Swanson -
or i fail to tell her apart
from the very real Norma Desmond...
i can attest to two stand-out performances
in the past few years...
i wouldn't be wrong in calling them
their life-performances...
                     and it's not even in the medium
of movies...
movies have lost everything movies
once were...
i used to enjoy movies: i'm pretty sure
everyone used to enjoy movies...
in school we'd gather in packs of 7 guys
and sometimes 7 guys and 3 girls
and we'd go to the cinema to watch
a movie...
      then grab a bite to eat...
or we used to go on dates to the movies...
Troy... she wanted to see that...
because i guess she thought
i looked like Achilles or Brad Pitt...
but that wasn't a date: date...
it was an entire day... first to Tate Modern
for the Edward Hopper exhibition...
some minor strolling...
then back to Romford to see the movie...
and then some food at a sushi bar
and some sake...
but movies these days are unwatchable...
i'd rather watch the Godfather (no...
part II is not better than the original...
sure... Terminator II is better than
Terminator and the Empire Strikes
Back is better than New Hope...
no... not the Godfather)...
i'd rather re-watch that than any new movie...
i usually switch on for about
10 minutes before switching off...
i need a cigarette break... i need to water
the garden... i need to take a ****...
i need to scratch my *** in private...
- but that's how the story goes...
"back in the day": there was a profession
of a baby-sitter...
the parents would have a date-night...
they'd go to the cinema...
i once had a baby-sitter... i forget who...
it was probably a male if my memory
serves me correct... probably my now estranged uncle...
while my parents went to see the movie
SE7EN at the now "mythical" Odeon on
the Gants Hill roundabout...
these days? movies are comic books...
i prefer serious books...
          and in terms of comics...
oh man... the first time i had a *******
i think the two girls were having a *******
for the same time too...
threesomes are disappointingly
disorientating...
       they like the execution of Isaiah...
being cut in half... the upper body is twiddling
with ******* and lips...
the lower part of the body is being treated
along the lines of *******...
it being my first time: terribly disappointing...
i couldn't keep up...
we settled on the anti-pornographic
solution... hand-job and imitation ******
into the "other's" *****...
             i was limp on first take...
nicotine... better than caffeine and ******* combined
to give a man arousal...
i had to have a smoke...
               i was new to the arrangement:
they were new to the arrangement:
the three of us were N00BZ... literally...
it wasn't like in a pornographic flick...
hell! far from it!
   what put me off was the changing of condoms...
and... once knew what to do with the *******:
pull it back... while the other one
didn't know what to do with it:
i'd circumcise her... so she might get a better
picture...
hardly an ego boost...
she implored me to reply in the affirmative
when asking the question:
you must feel like a king...
eh... i'm not the one who suggested having
a *******...
i rejected you twice: *****! you butted in!
i never had a ******* on my palette...
i like the ******* where i'm
almost tentatively looking into the woman's eyes
while rubbing forehead against forehead
before quickly jumping down below
to perform the crab-bucket maestro tongue
twirl of imitating gulping oysters
and flowers of KAHUNT!
                ****... oral *** on a woman...
she's already readying her hands to pretend to rip
the hair on your hair out...
she does that specific roll of the eyes...
it's beautiful to watch...
peacocks courting is probably the nearest comparison...
thank the gods on my part for
reading Ovid... someone was necessarily
born to combat these exploits of *******...
of ugly ***...

i don't know when i'll have a ******* ever again:
i like the one on one intimacy...
threesomes feel so pedestrian...
there's always that unwanted third party...
i don't think i gained an ego-booster...
i think along the lines of "p.t.s.d."...
                              the unwanted girl orchestrated
the whole enterprise...
the girl i wanted was the one i was snuggling up
to trying to steal a kiss:
me: thief... trying to steal kisses from
prostitutes... the unwanted third-party...
fake milking cows
and duck lips... she was just a canvas
for my *******...
                    once is enough...
i don't care what ******* portrays...
they're a nuisance...
i like ******* while eating eyes... with eyes...
plus the hygienic approach doesn't help
for the fluidity of threesomes...
you can't be hygienic and irresponsible at the same
time...

stealing kisses from prostitutes is one thing...
but ******* them without any ****** protection...
come the zenith...
actually asking: can i?
   with agreement:
                    yes, you can...           oh wow...
well... i'm talking about Turkish women...
different culture, different tactic...
i live in England but by now:
i ****** well hope to never **** an English
girl...

girl, let me just water my garden...
admire the night for a while:
believe me... you can have your sway
in raising the next Oedipal myth in your
sisterhood motherhood of loneliness...
i'd love to teach the ******* some things...
the pleasures of the hammer...
the KANGO concrete drill...
the everywhere and everyone within
the confines of the loneliness
of walking in a forest...
         chemistry! English! i'd love to learn
vocal Deutsche with him!
but no... fair enough: no's a no...
back to the brothel i go...
               oh no no...
              
me and hook-up culture? nothing's for free!
- i sometimes wake up the next day:
mein gott! what damage i must have i cause:
it's a cruel addiction:
to drink and to write simultaneously:
Bukowski and Hemmingway
figured out this problem...
one in celebrating old age
the other in the shotgun...

                    tear skin, grow more skin...

mein gott! i became so carried away with myself
that i actually forgot my original theme
for this poo'em...
            literally: maybe that's why i inserted
the word BZDETA...
                 oh... it's an actual word... not in -ing-leash
of course... but i'm sure most English
speakers are familiar with African surnames:
M'Bepe Mgabe etc.
   that's hovering consonant...
        B'z'deta...
               i love how the English folk break their tongues
when speaking my mother's... tongue...
they would sooner learn Czech or Russian
than learn ******... such puritans of the tongue
we folk are... and now combine the fact
that i identify as an Anglo-Slav...
     listen: England or at least English is a playground
for me... i was implored by some deity
to come to these isles, given a ***** and bucket
and told: here! there's some wet sand over there...
go and play!

                 now: many a happy returns to the father
of the English tongue... i have to return and tease
at some Deutsche...
           Franz Friedrich: AHUND!

my original adoration for the Thespians... it... can...
happen... personally i'd rather not...
i don't see the point of these shadow-thieves...
these dopplegangers... yet artistically?
it's the most celebrated medium...
           sure... painters are celebrated... post-mortem...
poets had a weird spell of "conundrums"
in America in the the 1960s...
   but i'm not willing to write ******* for a "me"
that's either asthmatic or exasperated:
equally short on breath...

well: given the modern equivalent... everyone is going
to be the next Allen Ging-Sperg?
i don't think so... more of a composer: than an entertainer...

anyhoo...
  BZDETA... an actual word...
it's sort of in between the English equivalent of:
trivial (thing) and a pointless (thing) -
the actual "thing" is hidden within the pointlessness
of an implied "thing" / the triviality of
the implied "thing": ha! modern English grammaticians
and their hyped up focus on pronouns...
wait till they figure out that adjectives verbs
and nouns and conjunctions and adverbs and...
a- the-     -ism: the indefinite and the definite article...

- everything coming of America (culturally) is corrupt:
once the beacon for the world to admire...
i'm regressing to find alternatives...
i stopped listening to music with a tinge of
the English tongue... i've thrown my laurel wreath
toward German neo-folk...
**** it... i might be living, physically: in an anglo-sphere
but my mind is elsewhere...
i wouldn't go as far as Frank Zappa and adore
Bulgarian music... but certainly not anything
in the vein of modern-modern (post?) English...

- another word that's dear to me: akin to
   how Italians call a child a BAMBINO...
the Polacks call a child a BOBAS...
             English is so strict... rigid sometimes...
the mere fact that the ****** tongue employs
so much diminutive "accents" is amazing sometimes...
a mountain: (gurhau, no... sorry... guhrau!)
i.e. góra can become a little mountain
via incorporating the diminutive tense górka...

and although the word RZECZ denotes: things...
rzeka is river... while a small river?
rzeczka...
            i don't think there's the antonym for the diminutive
in ******... it's sort of boring in English:
there are only adjectives... actual nouns
do not incorporate a diminutive tense for something
being described:

KACZKA (duck) kaczuszka (small duck, duckling)
wow! that's actually a good example of
the English ZUNGE applying the diminutive
construct of a word...
young and youngling springs to mind...
but English is altogether a very rigid tongue...
so... i don't understand how these current
grammatical-magicians and their pronoun-hyper-focus
are trying: you can't trick an old dog
into learning new tricks... these aren't tricks:
this is equivalent to: a baboon...
smearing his naked plump pink *** with his
own ****... calling it woad...
raising it up in the air like a Muslim during prayer:
before battle... shaking it...
taunting the opponent... come fight me...
and then...
                       what? of the two kings of ancient
Israel... who would i like to be?
David or Solomon?    hmm... clueless question...
DAVID! he got to fight Goliath and enjoyed the lyre
and wrote pslams into ripe old age...
Solomon? who couldn't compete with
his father... resorted to "wisdom":
writing aphorisms / maxims is the worst genre of
literature... it's untested proofs...
just ask Srinivasa Ramanujan...
                                   he was always neglected by
the establishment for having no proofs...
great idea: 2 + 2 = 5... but how? where's your proof!
the same with Solomon's supposed wisdom:
no proof... the same with Nietzsche's aphorisms
or for that matter la Rochefoucauld...
it's all true... but it's most probably just perhaps true...
i've tasted a sample of both the lives
of Solomon and David...
            each time i return to David...
i just do what the Nazis did to the *******...
i turn it clockwise...
                 tilt it... what do i see?
i see a reading-mat and an open book...
              i peer in: i ignite out...

now i'm thinking: i still need to mop the floors of the house,
i need to shine my shoes and iron a white shirt...
and gear up to waking up at 6am...
as much as i love waking up at 11am
without needing to be awake any hour sooner...
i love waking up at 6am with a necessary:
i'm expected to be at X by the time Y...
algebra simplicity...

esp. since today i fell out of bed: too humid...
i fell out the bed at about 6:30am onto the floor...
how compact the floor feels...
i could feel my strained spine relax on the hard surface...
i even used my folded hand for a pillow
in and out of a coming day-dream...
what i wouldn't give to imitate David...
and scorn Solomon forever more...
no wisdom did i find...
   no man can speak wisdom to men when he has
an abundance of "thirst-quench" of ****...
          
              in a polygamous society... thank god i don't live
in one... but there have always been women that
aspired to the cult / altar of the phallus...
i'm content with the fact that i can bypass any thirst...
that i have hygienic standards in place
that make me disregard any satisfaction in the realm
of a *******... it's equivalent to:
running an 800m race... come the 400m mark...
you're told to change your socks and shoes...
and then run another lap...

                           it's nothing like in *******...
monkey-pox is a real thing...
you need standards... cleanliness is the greatest:
and only standard that must be constantly stressed
from one human to another...

only Michel de Montaigne can surpass both Nietzsche
and la Rochefoucauld:
well, at least by my "under-estimation"...

- now for the caveat... what i was originally to write
about...
two example where Thespians can be adored...

                                   Logan Roy i.e. Brian ***
Peter III i.e. Nicholas Hoult...

even they: themselves have figured out that films
are on the way out...
people have changed...
                               i know i have changed...
i don't have the mental capacity to watch movies:
and i'm not some senile old man...
strange... in ancient times old people
were never this senile...
   they still had intellectual rigour...
they accumulated "****": perhaps it wasn't intellectually
stimulating: but it was intellectually mesmerising...
it was called wisdom: once upon a time...

and when my father criticised me for
reading philosophy books in my youth...
expecting me to regress to the optometric notion
that only old people are wise:
no! nein! old people these days are like
children: there's nothing to learn from them!
that's why i'm thinking about going
into primary school teaching...
i can pour my ever more clear water into that pool...
of clear water...
i don't need to teach them chemistry...
i don't have to teach them the tongue:
i can watch ontology sprout out of seemingly "nothing"...
i adore children:
            like i could never adore women...
i adore children like i adore animals...
i don't know what sort of man one must become
to adore women in order to exploit them
in the way that they are exploited...

hypocrite? because i place my silver on the table
and expect what's expected by the meaning
of transaction, or...
rather... place the silver on the table...
receive a shared meal and then expect something
in return? such backward ways
of the American culture...
i hope that England will never become infested
with these practices... freakish: ghoulish...
of the four-eyed beast...
a desecration of Shiva: one winking eye on
the forehead... one blinking eye attached to the ****...
with the two eyes that are supposed to see:
stapled shut...

how marvelous to wake up...
with a want to make mint and dark-chocolate chip
ice-cream... surely the best ice-cream i have
ever made! to hell with chocolate ice-cream!
i hate chocolate... turning it into ice-cream is even worse!
mint! oh... that marvelous invention of
the gods... almost equivalent to ferns...
almost equivalent to nettles...
how the ancient Roman centurions used to cure
an itch... they would run and jump into
a bed of nettles ****-*******-naked...
i.e. fight fire with fire... fight an itch with an even
bigger itch... second to the nettle? the thistle...
i'd love to see those guys jump into a patch
of nettles...

Rome will never die... even with the crucifixion
of its supposed surrogate son of man...
nope...
    the alphabet it still here...
the coliseum has morphed into a raised
meteor crater of a football stadium...
               Rome is, Rome was, Rome will be...
even with the Arab "invasion" of Europe...;
Rome is, Rome was, Rome will be:
we'll just be soul-chasers... soul-thieves...
they'll enter the arena of this tongue...
neglect their heritage... and they will learn our ways...
somewhat... not always...
mind you: on a racial-bias...
skin-colouring dilutes during *******
with a 2nd generation...
  
you asked for a Latin man... a Latin man came...
what now?
you asked for a Latin man...
i'm forever employing myself to date a single
mom with a boy or a girl...
i'm not a Darwinist... genes are like atoms...
i don't care much for them...
but... i wouldn't date a single mother
for the ***... i'd be sneaking out
to the brothel on a whim...
i'd be there for the child...
                    i'd love to make him or her ingest
my psychology:
i'd make them ingest my soul...
i'd pass on my ontology...
     he or she would have to be bilingual
in the least... i'd learn Deutsche with him...
he would be a miracle of a Switzerland outside
of Switzerland!

i'm still bewildered why America is not a bilingual
quest (of a nation)...
  WASP pride? or ignorance?
the worst of the English went to America:
while the supposed "worst" of the English went
to Australia...
                 funny... really funny...

to wake up and have: i need to make mint &
chocolate ice-cream on one's mind...
that's how one wakes up to celebrate life!   LIFE!
LAíF!

You're such a beauty with your powder blue eyes,
Like specs of loveliness.
Why can't he see it?
Why doesn't he know it?

They all talk about your flaxen hair;
Your legs that stretch from here to there,
But he outruns you
Without nary a strain.

You've got a long way to catch up to him
Cause you know that he's out of your league.
But you don't care how far you'll go,
Someday you'll have him on his knees.
Begging for mercy, please.

You got no reason for to doubt yourself
And what you bring to the game of love.
But he wont play it,
Won't even say it.

They all know you got the strategy.
It's so frustrating that he leaves you be.
Won't look your way,
Though he's not gay.

You've got a long way to catch up to him
Cause you know that he's out of your league.
But you don't care how far you'll go,
Someday you'll have him on his knees.
Begging for mercy, please.

You've run the cycle,
You've toured the maze.
You've carved a path.
You got it figured out.
Just at the time
You reach for prize
He does a zig-zag-ziggy-zag
Swill-still swanson sidelong swag.

You're such a stinger with your tight, ruby lips.
And he should be your own.
Why don't he see it?
Why don't he know it?

All can see the assets you could bring to romance.
But he seems numb to your signs.
What's wrong with him?
Not that he's dim.
But he keeps getting away

You've got a long way to catch up to him
Cause you know that he's out of your league.
But you don't care how far you'll go,
Someday you'll have him on his knees.
Begging for mercy, please.

Someday you'll have your way.
So you'll keep chipping away.
And someday your baby
Will come around to your way.

Legends say that hummingbirds float free of time, carrying our hopes for love, joy, and celebration. Hummingbirds open our eyes
to the wonder of the world
and inspire us to open our hearts
to loved ones and friends.
Like a hummingbird,
we aspire to hover
and to savor each moment as it passes, embrace all that life has to offer
and to celebrate the joy of everyday.
The hummingbird’s delicate grace reminds us that life is rich,
beauty is everywhere,
every personal connection has meaning
and that laughter is life’s sweetest creation.
From Jason Aaron Swanson
RIP 6/1/2018
It's not goodbye it's see you soon

The difference WAS I knew all your bad
The difference WAS I told you everything. You KNEW more about me than anyone else ever.
The difference WAS I WAS there to hold you when you WERE down. I WAS there to raise you up when you WERE on the ground
The difference WAS I cried with you
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I talked about our future with
The difference WAS I knew you WERE having trouble and weren’t in a good place and loveD (?) you anyways
The difference WAS we WERE going to brush and straighten your hair
The difference WAS we WERE going to go hot tubbing The difference WAS a fault in our stars
The difference WAS the best book ever
The difference WAS I could die laughing at my jokes and you wouldn’t think badly of me
The difference WAS you WERE going to be the first person I loveD and the first person I COULD have told that to
The difference WAS I WOULD have been there at three in the morning if you needED me
The difference WAS Pride and Prejudice
The difference WAS stegosaurus hair
The difference WAS music
The difference WAS Ted Talks
The difference WAS John Vervake
The difference WAS spur of the moment star gazing
The difference WAS spiders in your hair
The difference WAS you WERE my hand coolers and I WAS your hand warmers
The difference WAS black licorice
The difference WAS I WAS there when you relapsed The difference WAS you hated dance monkey
The difference WAS give me and _ give me a _ give me a _ give me a _ go _!
The difference WAS I wrote four songs and five poems for you in a month because I thought you careD and I DIDN’T care about you not being in a good place. We WOULD have gotten through it together
The difference WAS you said you WERE scared to lose me
The difference WAS I fell asleep with you every night
The difference WAS Guichi spelled g-u-I-c-h-I
The difference WAS Trashcanpaul
The difference WAS your terrible mic voice
The difference WAS dum dum dum diabetes
The difference WAS you showed me your favorite booth at acoustic
The difference WAS I said that I COULD love you and you said you COULD love me too
The difference WAS moth memes
The difference WAS street lamps
The difference WAS bless me
The difference WAS scrunching
The difference WAS you asked me to be there and I said yes and you said no
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Mamma Mia The difference WAS laughing at the stupid things
The difference WAS you were going to be my date to the FLC dance if you said yes
The difference WAS that you thought
The difference WAS you thought and shared rawly
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Nacho Libre
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I stayed up to six am for
The difference WAS we read together
The difference WAS we WERE going to write a chipotle and The Best Book Ever song together
The difference WAS Tacos by Tyler
The difference WAS Lemons at three
The difference WAS Elsa Roonie Fiona
The difference WAS stars on an empty night
The difference WAS dad jokes
The difference WAS Jeremy the book
The difference WAS you WERE my first real kiss
The difference WAS I WOULD have been there through the thick and thin
The difference WAS, WAS that a thinking sigh?
The difference WAS I reached out to Lillianna to email you
The difference WAS you shared your music with me
The difference WAS Holding on to you
The difference WAS our handshake
The difference WAS that hug after acoustic that Saturday night
The difference WAS your eyes moved too fast
The difference WAS Ninja The difference WAS “how lucky am?”
The difference WAS _ silence
The difference WAS I only got to say goodnight to you twice... and never again
The difference WAS you WOULD smile and bite your tongue
The difference WAS what are you thinking
The difference WAS what are you feeling
The difference WAS running
The difference WAS I WAS going to bring you to YOU
The difference WAS we WERE going to go stand up paddleboarding on cedar lake
The difference WAS we WERE going to canoe into the sunrise
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch the sunrise and the sunset on the same day
The difference WAS we WERE going to layout on your lawn and watch the stars
The difference WAS I WAS going to look at your patio NEXT time I came over 
The difference WAS I trustED you. TrustED you enough to not leave. You WERE always the one with the fear of me leaving you. I wonder if you ever knew it was you, not me, saying goodbye (correction: leaving. No one ever says goodbye to someone they want to see again)
The difference WAS you said you didn’t want to get into anything that wouldn’t last... and yet... you are the one ending...
The difference WAS you smelled amazing
The difference WAS you HAD my sweatshirt
The difference WAS you never watched movies
The difference WAS you told me even though you WERE scared to
The difference WAS I filled a toilet full of tissues writing this because I couldn’t stop crying
The difference WAS I made you a bracelet
The difference WAS you WERE the only person that I actually talked to anymore
The difference WAS I made short cuts for emojis in my phone... for you
The difference WAS watching The Office clips
The difference WAS you read all my bad writing
The difference WAS I drove 30 minutes... to kiss you
The difference WAS hello... _
The difference WAS you’re weird aha
The difference WAS I showed you my journal
The difference WAS I WAS there when you called me crying
The difference WAS talking about religion
The difference WAS talking deeply
The difference WAS you WERE the first person that I was truly scared for
The difference WAS the plans we made
The difference WAS you grabED my phone off the techno table
The difference WAS we WERE going to get Ethiopian food
The difference WAS dying of laughter because of Ron Swanson
The difference WAS I USED to be able to be anyone I wantED around you
The difference WAS we WERE going to watch Les Mis in three minutes
The difference WAS that photoshoot
The difference WAS you WERE my first milkshake
The difference WAS I KNEW you weren’t all right, but I was alright with that.. with you
The difference WAS you WERE the first person I cried with and not for, but I HAD you then... NOW YOU ARE JUST ANOTHER PERSON WHO BROKE MY HEART. YOU, THE UNIQUE ONE, BROKE MY HEART WITH THE SAME BULLSHIRT (you won’t get that because you haven’t seen The Good Place) THAT EVERY OTHER PERSON HAS GIVEN ME... that every... other... person has said...

The difference WAS you WERE you

I’m sorry that was me being irrationally angry Goodbye... and thanks for all the fish (you won’t get that either because you haven’t read hitchhikers guide to the galaxy). You were my Hazel Grace. Until now I would never have made that comparison, but now it seems aptly fitting. Yuppers... goodbye

Tuna sandwiches on white bread
Carried in a paper bag
Josh Groban on the CD player
Season Three of 2 broke Girls
Matching shoes and purses
Vacation in the Pocanos
Subscription to People Magazine
Pennies in a piggy bank
Silver-beige 4-door Accord
A little college but no degree
Always ten pounds overweight
Celebration meal at Sizzler
Artificial Christmas tree pre-lit
A mole that wants removing
Off white walls, pale green carpet
Outfits from mail order catalogs
Paydays with no yearly bonus
Jeopardy and Wheel of fortune
Polyester perm press everything
Bic Stik ball point pen
Swanson's TV dinner
Flip phone with no camera
*** two times a week and Sunday
Writing verse nobody reads
                   ljm

Watching some Youtubes, in this case interviews with an 83 year old Ginger Rogers and a same age Gloria Swanson.  Remember them?

   The Comings & The Goings

Raymond Chandler, me, and Dashiell are chewing the fat down at
     the Formosa
Under a cracked red lamp where we are made to feel welcome for
    as long as we can pay
These are the mean streets of Los Angeles in 1948

The day's developments involved a lot of questioning -- we are
     tired of being grilled by hordes of grim-faced police
Detectives we knew, some we'd even played cards with
They said we weren't suspects --- at least not yet
All three of us had this agent, who now is very dead and someone
     who did not like him put a bullet through his head

Then pinned a note on his messy chest, which said, "I won't be
     needing you anymore, here's your ten percent."
Sam ***** and Philip Marlowe would have a tough one to figure
     out
Here, everybody hates agents and ours had too big a mouth
Imagine --- he would tell us how he made us into writing stars
Someone punctuated him but just left question marks

On this grey and foggy evening where we chase the dawn
Our fedoras by our sides, just as cops have guns
We're heavy into whisky --- it's writers' remorse
Who will make the deals for us --- for a commission of course?

The bartender is so angry and weathered --- as if he'd fought World           War II all by himself
Dashiell and Chandler got so looped they took a cab ride home
I'm walking now towards the ocean - I will sleep all day
Then head for my typewriter -- maybe call William Morris or H.N. Swanson
See if they've got any writing jobs that pay.