Father Moses it feels so good to be sitting right here listening to our classic jazz
The kind we listened to when we would do gardening
It is a pleasure to affirm that your son has finally found his memory,
Of how great he can be or how great he once was
It is strange that we meet here and it is just us men
What happened with our women?

What went wrong?
I guess they stopped caring about who says what to them
And eventually stopped caring about who touches them
And in reciprocation we stopped caring about who sleeps with them and touches them
Because it is only fair that if your woman does not care about who touches her then you wise up and realise that anyone can touch her
And you should do best and care more about how you put your hands onto the world
Then you care more about what you do for humanity

Then you care more about what The Creator has bestowed you with; your talents, skills and ambitions
Your endless longing for Knowledge, for wisdom
Then you know that if she knows you then she must know herself
And if she has herself together, she will respect you and be loyal
Then you know that if she loves you, she wars with you
She does not **** up your energy
And she will know when to be available and what to say
Because she is yours
It is a love you have been waiting for, a love you have worked for, earned and honored.

But if she doesn't know this she will think that by having herself passed over to different men she is somehow tainting your stature but no, don't you know that she is expressing a behaviour and attitude of no self-respect
She is not hurting you, she is only hurting herself because she is lost
She does not know what the Father's Love & Light is or what the guidance of a Mother is

But people fight this reality
They are scared, they are a lost breed and they will continue to be lost
A wise man said: if you are stealing from me and ruining my life because you are jealous of my success then don't be jealous of my death, deliver me gracefully to pastures of vanilla skies where all is well and peaceful
Where the truth does not have a stutter

Where people face themsleves for who they are and what they do and have done
Where they are held accountable for their deeds and when you
Hear all these truths and feel angry at yourself because you have been so lost then don't feel at a loss when I am gone, don't miss me
Live in the perfect and beautiful memories of the things you've done to me
Or the things you haven't done

Then you will begin to learn that there is another reality beyond this one
There are few wives if any because homes are broken
There are few fathers if any because principles are missing
Because of this; society will never grow..

Continents will remain children and those children will blow themsleves up because those who are supposed to adult them into the future are crying for lost time
When you've seen all the things I've done Father Moses you will support me and confirm that I need to rest in the airy sheets of peace

They, the oh so awesome fairies have yet to reach fruition for bedding and wedding
But they don't want this reality because it reveals the massive change that needs to occur and the responsibilty that people have to take to go on their own journies of self discovery
They are afraid to run their own race so they will always fail to conclude the last page.

Lost lives, lost in living hells
reminders everyday of the scars that tell
more than words could speak
just tips of icebergs, oh.. if only they could talk...

i, - salute the wounded healers-
only taughts to heals, because they began
by helaing themsleves.
and moving on - being bitter, wordless spits of grain in lips
and being an aching hearts so wide one would think they would die at any moment

and yet - there -  


there is solace

in the slowly ebbing  pain....day by day the cracks begin to tear...
and brightness burst forth - and hey , that may, take years moments , heartbeats stretching on
for the fallen undone,

and the breathless in San Diago
and the countless in New Delhi ,

and the scores and cores in the Congo

i salute all those still in the fight -
no matter how.

I am no toymaker, I know this,
yet one day I found a small toy car
left on my doorstep with a simple note:
"Try and fix me."
I'm no toymaker, but I tried anyway.
I saw there was a wheel broken,
a door off its hinges, and an engine
that needed replacing. I am no toymaker,
but I tried my best to find these parts,
but I stopped before I switched them out
because I realized I was changing it.
I am no toymaker, but I know you shouldn't
change people; that only they can change themsleves,
and that's what I feared.
How am I to fix something, if it won't change?
I am no toymaker, so maybe I'm missing something,
but if I can not change out this broken wheel,
place new hinges on that door, or a new
engine to make it pur, how can I fix it?
I am no toymaker, I know this,
but I still battled rivers and mountains alone,
talked with Atlas to give up the Earth,
but Atlas wouldn't listen and I told myself
it was because I was trying to change him
like a little toy car I once tried to fix.
I am no toymaker, but don't say I didn't try.

For all your intellegence
You are ignorant
Speaking from a position that
Finds its footing in false Gods
And the reversion of faith
How you gladly slaughter religions
Whom don't speak towards your grand morality
Because like a child you hate
What bred you
Murdering God with your righteous fury

Scorned injustly by a few
Who claim to uphold something beyond themsleves
Speaking like a sage the words of a wisdom you do not understand
Or could possibly embody
Your hate, fury and dogmatic refusal to see anything
Good that doesn't fit your dated
Greek mentality
Of which you in your ignorance
Have no leg to stand upon

Do not with your pious
Bigotted bile rail against something in which you do not know
Do not claim knowledge
When you a child
No not what you speak
A fool
You become
A
****** fool

More ignorant by your expression of opinon
Because you know not what all goes into
The reasoning
The why
The how come

You become what you so decidedly hate
That overly righteous
This is the way of the world
I AM GOD
Mentality consumes you
Becomes you
The mask of radical minded beauty
Comes off
What a sick creature you are
To see the Good
And know its name
But not what it is

Your ignorance blinds you
But your pride makes you a fool.

if my rights are wrongs, doom me, for I am comforting minds within themselves
surroundings and experience influence, I will go through pain to make you feel secure, be what you desire
if the world disapproves your sexuality and says its wrong
accept yourself for what you are, and be right within you
Because your impact is greater than what you think it is
Not being afraid can influence people to get rid of freight of expressing what they've always wanted to be or do
if you ever feel doubt in your guidance on the road
know that youve impacted the silent
and if you give up, their hope will be gone
be someone's help or hope, someones life progression, create gateways
Smile to the malignant, you'll see reflections soon enough
Feel at home in your mind, feel welcomed
The rooms that make your home are the interests that make you, love what you do with passion because you've impacted me to write this, to reach many others like you that can do the same
The love for a hobby can trigger someones passion, to do the same, to do the right, to progress as a whole
to help people, to help communities, to help the the world, to break barriers
purpose is to serve
Purpose is to make a purpose
for the ones who need guidance in their purpose
anything can create, innovation in humanity is within you
with your will anything is possible
be gracious, for you have potential to change lives, to change perspectives
your happiness can make happiness all around your surroundings
your actions are impactful chants, scream
dont be afraid to show your emotions in expressive ways, thats what makes the world
its defined by you, do good
its the little things
that can make a little road create highways and routes in lives; options
You are glorious even if you're corrupt
sadness and happiness are glorious and im happy to be passionate about people, like you, all of you
Dont be afraid to break barriers with your passion
Dont be afraid to break barriers with your love
You are possible of doing anything
You are someones road to take
To be saved
To accept themsleves
Inspire and motivate
You are the art of progression

no one is reading my **** anymore
it's not generic enough
not sad enough
not happy enough
not ******* insane enough
not sadistic enough
not self-deprecating enough
this is why the best writers always ******* **** themsleves
or drink themselves to death (because somehow it isn't considered suicide if it's done over a few decades instead of in an instant)
i'm not mad that people aren't reading
i'm just confused
what am i doing
they told me anyone could be a writer
and i've seen enough published ******* to believe that that is true
i'll write about cats
about cats ******* cats
is that crude enough for you
i'm screaming now, and you can't hear me
you're to busy with the spectacle-boy with a vape pen and brand new perfectly shredded shoes
this is why everyone hates themselves
and why everyone who doesn't always seem so unaware
is this how the world divides
the blissfully dumb
and the dying intellects
not intellects
pessimists
that's what we are
if i could live in your world i would
but i'm stuck with incessant thoughts
and loud, depressing music to make them sound less appealing

youtube channels...
northern ******* monkeys...
shaun vs.
the iconoclast...
what?! i've integrated,
"you" suddenly get to tell
me that regional
differences,
   or regional
          nuances,
or regional biases,
somehow, don't matter?
i thought that integration
was inclined
to follow your "in-bred"
biases... no,
that was never on the table
with the playing deck of cards?
the **** do the english want
within the reasonable constraints
of integration,
or a fellow european,
oh, right... the lazy intervention
description of pakistani,
i.e. ****-,
            that will suffice?
good good...
      i'm back in the early 2000s,
with a song like
hold on by limp bizkit...
because i just know
that an ******* dysfunction
wouldn't work
with grooming gangs
and ******* teenage girls...
i'm not a moralist...
i tend to find legally binding
women off-putting,
******* with a bulgarian
*******? no problem.
i just hate being lectured
all the ******* time...
savvy?
          i might have been
misinformed,
but, now? no, no....
               can't have a chance
to make the appropriate
statement, "mate" / "bruv"...
i hate to inact a sense
of reacting with a remark
for inappropriate scandal
fathoming...
       so i was supposed
to integrate, but
then not integrate into intra-national
"taboos"
      of the southerners
moaning about northerners...
oh...
   integration is the prime aspect
of simply learning the language...
and the rest is just:
monkey fairy: *****-nilly?
that's how it works?
  you integrate to the point
of passing a spelling test,
but you don't integrate
into the fathomability
of intra-national biases...

   the **** do you "actually" want?
you don't know, do you?
i lick some cymru,
i spend 3 years in scotland,
and i'm still expected
to conform to the existential
"concerns" of someone
running away from Bristol
& Devon?!

         wow! just, wow!
do i compliment the audacity,
or just tame the stupidity?
you know...
in terms of a mind-****,
i'll sooner spend 2 hours
staring at a *******
      washing machine...
than listen to this current,
diatribe...
         so i "integrated"...
but now the locals are
"finding" problems associated
with the other integration
prospects...
    
         they are still prospects...
integration was not the willingness
to run 110m hurdles,
but jump the 8m high jump event...
and they never allowed
themsleves to retain
their mother-tongue...

             point of interest:
i have to be diagnosed as
a problematic individual,
i have to be deemed a schizophrenic...
it's much easier that way...
sure as **** i'm not
a grooming **** overlord...
but i need to be a problem...
**** me,
given the current climate in england,
you experience something
esque resembling "god"?
you're a problem,
     i'm used to that,
i always thought that sort
of experience would always
assure itself to be made revelled
in, in paradoxes...  
"god",
you're not off the hook,
you're more so: forever suspect...
esp.,
if there's no clarifying agenta
of sharing interests to over-state
the experience, and subsequent
markers...

i could have integrated into
an english society,
but sooner, rather than later,
i realized that...
that, that wasn't what i was
integrating into...
  i wasn't integrating into anything...
great idea,
but... no...
         from under the iron
curtain, toward the curtain of jack...
n'ah...
  power hierarchy...
   unless you want to ask
some of my "imaginary" voice
attaché subscripts...
          
   during the times when
a madman has more sanity to boot,
than some adherent
of sanity, with no madness' worth
of intent...
       i should have never smoked
marijuana those 12 years ago...
but at least the whiskey is taxed...

integrating into a foreign culture,
by simply speaking the language...
that's the base requirement...
but then...
   ah... ha ha...
     local cultural requirements...
see... this is the language
of the natives...
   but where are the tattoos
of the natives, dates,
geogrpahic nuances,
     biases...

         not 'ere...
      i'm a sponge of a person,
i succumb toward that itches
right, feeling is beyond this tier
of integration.

“don’t do it,”
I say, to the brown eyed best friend opposite me
“don’t ever love anyone. Not ever.
It’s how people get hurt,
Believe me
I saw what happened to the others.”
Her brunette waves bounce in an agreeing nod,
“just,
just promise me you won’t.
Okay?
just, promise you’ll focus on you”
there’s a stunted wavering, to my tiny voice
as I try to find the words to match my conviction
“Don’t get distracted.
You’ve gotta make something of yourself.
Something real big okay,
I know you can.”
her chin drops and she averts her eyes at my praise
as though she doesn’t know yet, what she’s capable of
“You’re going to be something real big,
Just, you can’t do that with anyone else
Okay?
So, don’t love anyone
They’ll only get in your way”
Your better than me
You can’t let anything get in your way
You’re supposed to be something.”
At this,
Her lips turn from cupids bow to longsword
And she scrunches up her freckle frosted nose as her eyebrows knit themsleves into a sweater
“So promise me,”
I say, scooting closer,
“Promise me you won’t care for anyone.
Not even me,
Not even me. I’m not good enough.
no one at all.
Just be the best.”
She nods, defiantly agreeing
To the plan
though looking away in discomfort
I catch her eyes, not done yet
not satisfied with her response
“Pinky promise?” I say, Extending my nail polish chipped baby finger
To hers
an unbreakable pinky promise
to be doubly sure no one will break her

she extends her
Nail polish chipped baby finger towards mine
And I reach for her,
crossing the distance between our hands

until I hit the mirror

In order to be loved
Humans will act as an idealized
Version of themsleves

"Where" is any junction
Of two spaces,
Two parallels in the common infinite,
Finally touching,
The realization that all extremes meet themselves
Like the skin-envelopment of a body:
Everything closes in themsleves
Inside something bigger.
There is nothing analytical in it,
But two curious eyes
Dissolving what t sees
To avoid the certainties
Of this hard, impassable world.

All movement is a rearrange,
A fugue or search for balance,
But never indifferent.
There are potentials everywhere
And there is just where we get the discomfort,
That thing that puts us in movement,
That air mass that occupies
What just a moment before was my body.

All that transforms
Leaves behind
Traces of the irreversible,
The dust that no longer will be soil,
The cracks that no longer will be building,
The explosion that no longer will be bomb.

All encloses in the extremes.
The coldest cold, absolute,
Lean lightly absolute hotness,
And the dichotomy disapears,
Everything ends up in a circle
And what once took far
Can only lead to the starting point.

The farther we can go
Is the exact place we are.