[A] is for
An
Archer with
An
Arrow through his
Adams
Apple, very
Applicable, to the
Ample
Amounts of
Amiable
Attitude,
Adorning his heart, in
After
Action
Attributes, that impart, the
Admiration, of
*******, in this
Acting out of
Arrogance bit. he is,
Astute, in his
Allure, and
Aloof, in the
Air, of
Aspiration, in which, he was
Alienated in the
Agony, of
Asking
Assassins, the
Aforementioned. lights, camera,
Action. recipe of the
Ancient
Admirals of
Avian
Aliens, that
Attacked, with the
Arms and fists, of
Arachnids, now
Aching to be
Activated in sudden
Allegiance to the
Answers, of the truth.
Accumulating wealth for
Anarchy's of
Abating
Angels in
Atrophied,
Alchemical
Academies of the ever
After life .. . of silence.
****** strengthens in these
Accolades of violence, in
Alliance to
Appliances
Appearing in the
Arson of
Apathy, happily, to
Anguish in the
Amputation of my
Abdomen, if it meant i'm a real
American, even, when, only
Ash, remains.
Acclimating in its remains
Attained, the
Articles of my pain, in
Affluent shame, next time ..
Aim... oak
[A]?

[B] is for the
Bah of
Black sheep, and
Big
Bit¢hes, fat cats,
Bombarded in the
Blasted,
Bastion of
Blackened
Benevolent
Blokes,
Berating the
Blasphemous,
Be-seech, of
Brains, to feel
Bad, about the
Blotching of
Binary codes, erroding, the
Blanked out
Books, of
Belittled
Bureaucrats,
Bowling
Back the
Bank rolls of
Betterment, from the
Back of the
Blackened
Bus, as i'm
Busting guts, in the
Bubbling
Butts, of *****
Benched, but
Beautiful, in the
Battle, in the
Bane, of existence.
Baffled, in the strain of
Belligerence, in
Beating the
Beaming
Butchery into
Billy's
Broken
Brains, in
Bouts, of
Battering
Bobby's for
Bags of
*******
Before, affording to
Build
Bombs, is just
Beyond
Breaking
Beer
Bottles on the
*******
Benefactors of
Boulder
Bashing with the
Beaks, of
Birds, with no
Bees. just a
Being, trying to
[B]


[C] is for the
*****
Courting the
Choreography, in
Computerized
Curtains,
Circumventing the
Cultured,
Contrivance of
Chromatic
Cellars,
Calibrating, to the
Contours of
Calamities,
Celebrating the
Cyclical,
Cylinders of
Cyphered
Calenders,
Correcting the
Calculations, of
Crooks
Coughing, in
Courageous
Coffins of
Canadians,
Collecting
Cobble stones, from
Catacombs, in the lands of the
Conquered,
Capturing the
Claps of thieves, sneaky
Cats, of greed. its
Comedy. oh
Comely, to my
Cling of
Cleanliness, and for your self
[C]

[D] is for the
Dip *****, as they
Delve
Deeper in the
Deliverance, of
Deviant
Deities,
Dying to
Demand
Dinner
Delivered in the throws of
Death,
Deceiving
Defiance of
Darkened
Dreams,
Demeaning that which
Deems the
Dormant of the
Dominant, to be
Demons of
Deviled
Devilry,
Dooming us for
Destruction.
Deploy the,
Damsels in
Duress.
Defiled and
Distressed,
Detestable and
Dead. in the thump of
Drums,
Dumbing down the
Debts of,
Dire regrets.
Dissect the
Daisies of,
Disillusion, in the current
Days,
Diluting night into
Dawn,
Disconnecting the
Dots of the
Dichotomy, and arming me, in the
Diabolatry, of,
Demonology, as i watch me
Dwindle away, the
[D]

[E] is for
Everything in nothing,
Eating the
Euphoric
Enigmas of
Enlightened
Elitists,
Exceeding in the
Extravagant
Essence of
Esoteric
Euphemisms,
Escaping the
Elegance of the
Elements in the
Eccentricity of
Eclectic
Ecstasy,
Exhaling, the
Exostential blessings, of inner
Entities, and renouncing the
Enemies of my
Ease,
Easily to appease
Extraterestrial
Empires,
Extracting the lost
Embers of
Enlightenment, in
Excited delight, but to later
Entice, the fight, and
Escape, like a thief into the night of
Everywhere,
Entering the
Exits of
Elevators leading no where, to
Elevate, this useless place,
Encased in malware in the
Errant
Errors of
Every man,
Enslaved, of flesh and
Entrails,
Enveloping the core of
Everything, that matters,
Enduring, the chatter, of
Evermore,
Ever present in
Everybody
Ever made to take
[E]

Funk the
Ferocity of
Foolish
Fandangos, with
Fanged
Fanatics,
Fooled in the
Fiasco of
Fumbled
Fantasies,
Falling through the
Farms of
Freely
Found
Fans,
Flying in the
Fame of
Fortune.
Fornicating on the
Fallen
Fears of
Fat
Fish getting their
Fillet of
Fills.
Feel me in the
Frills

Granted with
Generosity.
Giblets of
Gratitude and
Greed,
Greeting the
Goop and
Gobbled
Gore,
Gleaned from the
Glamour of
Ghouls in
Gillie suits,
Getting what they
Got
Going, in the
Gratuitous
Gallows of a
Game
Gaffed by
Giants.

Hello to the
Horizon of
Hellish
Hilarity, in
Hope of
Happy, to
Heave from
Heifers, to
Help the
Hemp
Harshened
Hobos in
Heightened
Horror, to
Honor the
Habitats of
Hapless
Habituals,
Herbalising the work
Horse, named
Have Not, in the
Haughtily
Hardened
Houses of
Happenstance.

Ignore the
Ignorant
Idiots, too
Illiterate to
Indicate the
Indicative
Instances of
Idiom in the
Irrelevant
Inaccuracy of
I,
In the
Intellect of
Idle
Individuals,
Irritated with the
Irate
Illusion of
Idols
Illustrated upon the
Iris,
In the
Illumination of
I.

******* the
Jobless
Jokers, and
Jimmy the
Jerkins from their
Jammie's, in
Justified,
Jousting off the
Jumps, in
Jokes, and
Jukes of
Just
Jailers,
Jesting for
Jammed
Jury's to
****
Judgment from the
Jitter
Juiced
Jeans of
Jesus.

**** the
Keep of
Khaki-ed
Kool aid men,
Kept in the
Kilometers of
Kits,
Kin-less
Kinetics,
Knifing the
Knights of
Kneeling
Kinsmanship,
Keeling over the
Keys of
Kaine, with the
Karmic
Karate
Kick of a
Kangaroo.

Love the
Levity, in the
Luxurious
Laments of
Loveliness,
Lovingly
Levitating in
Level,
Lucidly.
Living in
Laps, of
Lapses,
Looping, but
Lacking the
Loom of the
Latches
Locked with
Leeches of the
Lonely
Lit
Leering of
Lightly
Limbs, that
Lash at the
Lessers in
Loot of
Lost letters,
Lest we
Learned in the
Lessons of
Liars.

Marooned in
Maniacal
Masterpieces,
Masqueraded as
Malignant
Memorization's of
Motionless
Mantras, but
Merrily
Masking
Mikha'el the
Mundane, who is
Musically
Mused of
Monsters,
Mangling the
Monitor, but
Maybe just a
Moniker of
Marauders.

Never to
Navigate the
Nautical
Nether of
Never
Nears.
Not to
Nit pic the
Naivety of
Nicety.
Notions
Neither take
Note
Nor
Name the
Noise of
Nats in the
Nights of
Neanderthals
Napping in the
Nets of
Ninjas

Ominous in the
Obvious
Omnipotence of
Oblivious
Obligatory
Opulence,
Of
Other
Oddly
Orchards
Of
Offices,
Ordaining
Orifices in
Offers of
Ordinary
Ordinances in
Option-less
Optics,
Optionally an
On-call Oracle, in
Optimal,
Overture.

Perusing the
Pestilent
Pedestals of
Personal,
Parameters,
Pursuing the
Petty
Plumes of
Piety with the
Patience of a
Pharaoh,
******* on the
People with the
Penal
Pianos of
Port-less
Portals, in the
Paperless
Points in the
Palpal
Pats of
Pettiness.
Poor, but
Prideful.

Quick to
Qualify the
Quitter for a
Quick
Quill in
Queer
Quivering of
Quickened
Questioning,
Queried in the
Quakiest of
Quandaries.
Quarantined to a
Quadrant, of
Quagmires.
Questing the
Quizzing of
Quotable
Quartets.

Relax in the
Relapse of
Realizations, and
React with
Racks of
Rolling
Rock to
Rate the
Rep of the
Rain-less.
Roar in
Rapturous
Rendering of the
Random
Readiness in the
Ravenous,
Rallying, of the
Retinal
Refracting of
Reality.
Realigning, the
Righteous
Rearing of the
Realm, and
Retrying.

Steer the
Serenity in
Sustainability, and
Slither through the
Seams of
Slumbered
Scenes.
Secrete the
Solo
Sobriety of
Sapped
Sassys,
Salivating upon a
Slew of
Stupidity,
Steadily
Supplied in
Stream,
Suitably
Slain in the
Steam of
Sanity.
Sadly, i
Still
Seem,
Salvagable.

Topple
The
Titans in
Tightened
Terror.
Torn
Territories
Turn
Turbulent in
The
Teething of
Totality.
The
Telemetry of
Time,
Tortured of
Torrent
Theories,
Told in
Turrets of
Transpiring
Terribleness, from
Tumultuous
Tikes unto
Teens,
Trading
Toys for
Tea.
Thrice
Thrusted upon by the
Tyranny of
Tanks.

Unanimous is the
Ugliness in the
Undertones of
Undreamed
Ulteriors
Undergoing the
Unclean in the
***** of
Utterly
Upset
Users,
Uplifting the
Unfitting
Ushers in
Underwear-less,
Ulcers,
Undergoing the
Ultra of
Uberness.

Venial in
Vindictive
Viciousness of
Vindicated
Venom,
Venomously
Vilifying the
Vials of
Villainy in the
Veins of
Vampires,
Validity of
Valuable
Violence, is
Valiant in the
Vaporous
Vacationing of
Vagrant
Vices.

Why
Whelp in the
Weather
When you can
Wave to the
Whirling
Wisps,
Whipping Where the
Whimsical Were
Way back in the
Wellness of
Whip its,
Wrangling my
World,
With
Waterless
Worms, as
War shouts are
Wasted in the
Wackiest
Walks of
Waking
Wonder.

Xenophobic
Xenogogue, of
Xenomorphic
Xeons, turn
Xyphoid, in the
Xenomenia of my
X, my
Xenolalia of
X, to
***. im lost in the
Xenobiotic zen of
Xerces, on a
Xebec to the
X on the map.
Xenogenesis, in the
Xesturgy of my
Xyston
Xd

Yelling
Yearned from
Yelping.
Yard
Yachts
Yielding, to the
Yodel of
Yeah
Yeahs, to the
Yapping of
******
Yuppie
Yoga
Yanks, over
Yonder.
Yucking it up with the
Yawn of a
Yocal.

Zapped from a
Zone i
Zoomed with
Zeal in the
Zig and
Zag of my
Zapping
Zimming
Zest, upon a
Zombie-less
Zeplin.
Zealot,
Zionist, or
Zoologists,
Zeros or ones, just
Zip your
Zip locked. and
Zzzzz
Zzzz
Zzz
Zz
Z
Zero

Take me as I am, please
No. Please is too understanding
Take me as I am!
Wait. Maybe that's too demanding?
I don't think we understand each other
Maybe we're over analyzing
It's just that when I look into your eyes I stop
They're hypnotizing
Stop. No. Rewind please!
But I can't, the words are out
Could you give me a backspace button for conversation
That would relieve some doubt
I want you
Argh! Too lustful!
I need you!
ACK! Too needy!
Let's just say the world's a candy jar
And for your jolly rancher I'm greedy?
No? Not subtle? Too subtle? Argh!
Why is it so complicated to speak to you!?!
I'm like a 3 year old whose trying to make a picture out of glitter and glue
And the supplies just keep sticking!
Do you understand what I mean?
I see the perplexed look on your face and...
**** it, woman, you're pretty
Ack! Rewind rewind rewind!
Stupid stupid stupid!
The only way to catch an arrow is to say you DON'T want Cupid
So I don't want you....yes I do.
No I don't!
But I do!
No I don't!
Yes I do!
NO! I! DON'T!
Look at her!!!
....okay, I do.
But you wouldn't give me a second thought if I told that to you
I mean let's face it, you're so out of my league that we're not even in the same sport
I'm playing with the tiny tikes and you're in the pro team's court
But I would be a fool if this wall was all I feel on my fingers
And as perverted as that sounds I let the joke just linger
Because you're beautiful and I'm me
And who am I to attain a girl like you
The boy whose glasses fall down his nose and is missing one or two screws
I just want a dance... and a kiss.... okay, just a dance
No, what I want from you is the guarantee of a second, maybe third glance
To see you in the hallways tomorrow and know I make you smile
To know that you affirm we danced and liked it all the while
I want to be more than wallflower material and I want the prime
So with shaky legs, a corny disco ball, and a bad song, I stand and I greet you
And ask could this dance be mine....?

Your move. Gulp.

jack casual was a hard workin' man,
put bread on the table,
kept the roof over our heads,
and kept that dog, nellie, from gettin' 'er sorry be-hind run over.
yep, ol' jack was worth his salt.
he used to play his acoustic for us
when we were tikes,
back when we had an air conditioner.

when it broke down,
ol' gran-pappy,
jack's dad,
had him run out to the store to buy a window unit
and a slurpie.
then pappy would stagnate all day
in the back room while we sweltered,
and he'd send me on errands on my bike,
and read week-old newspapers,
and yell at jack to
"pay the ******* bills"
at four in the morning.

jack wanted to send him to a "home",
but mama never did like them.
she said they were "unsafe",
"unsanitareh",
and "unhospitible".
so gran-pappy stayed.

yes sir-ee, gran-pappy stayed
for three long years
with his banjo
and the growin' pile of slurpie cups in the corner
of that back room where it was cool.
until that one night
when gran-pappy called mama
a name the dog had done learned to respond to,
and mama said,
"jack,
just put him in the home!
a lady shouldn't be treated upon
in this mannuh."

that was the last i ever did see
of ol' gran-pappy,
but i still remember the last words he said to us:

"...and bring me back a slurpie,
it's one hot ******* up in here
and i need somethin'
to cool me off a spell!"

Stuck in a rut.
Becoming accustomed to this sophomore slump.
Searching for creativity and coming up short.
Avoiding conformity,
I am unable to contort.
To fit the mold of the personality society expects me to be.
To restrict myself to the boundaries you’ve laid out for me.
Trapped in this modern day suburbia
With a dull canvas of street signs and strip malls.
Trying to show creativity by posting eloquent diction on bathroom stalls.
Experimenting with drugs just doin’ it for kicks
Until I kick the bucket that’ll be my ultimate fix.
Searching for something deeper in the trendy tikes that surround me.
It’s like finding a Warhol hung on the pasty wallpaper of a Motel 6, unlikely.
But they’re blinded.
These superficial tendencies are a filter over the eyes of the feeble-minded.
And when I fall into that materialistic wonderland, I stumble
I come back to reality and instantly, I’m humbled.
Uninspired, stuck in this middle class wasteland.
I’m drowning, reaching for a helping hand.
Encapsulated in a series of track homes and industrial lots,
Yearning to venture past these white picket fences;
To stray from these social pretenses.
I’m meant to be more than a big fish wading in this murky puddle.
So, I’ll swim to the depths of the ocean till I find a life style a little less subtle.
And just as I retire from this constant search,
I see a light glimmering in the distance, like fire.
Unaware of what it is but knowing that it holds everything for which I have aspired.
I’ll chase it till my whit’s end, I am inspired.

the tranquility of ghosting.

how i crave the slick white sheet hovering inches above the ground, barely swirling as the limbo atmosphere stands lentic, no corporeal body underneath.

how i desire the limited peripheral, two cutout eyes that only let me stare towards the floorboards and kitchen and cutlery i cannot pick up.

how i yearn for the final destination within my house, the ectoplasm that follows me around as a new family crams their stuff into the cabinets, desperate to make my grave smell like home.

how i wish i could float beside them, staring quietly at the little tikes frolicking around the living room couch, eons away from my own state, unaware of my inevitability.

how i long to be unable to pick up the knife, or cup, or shaving razor, or blanket, unable to smother, or stab, or slice, or bash.

from the tranquility of ghosting, the inability to harm is what i want most.

The children of death have landed
silver knives in their hands
ready to **** on his demand
obeying all his commands

They start to chant, we must ****
and by his dark wishes they will
twenty six hundred of the little tikes
out to play out to **** for his delight

They move so fast most never see them coming
they are the revolution all consuming
street by street they maim and slaughter
killing brothers, sisters, sons and daughters

Watch their silver blades in their crimson hue
feel them hacking a slashing to the end of you
hear them sing their black dirge of hate
yet when you hear that, all will be too late


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

What's up bruv",
"Chill out bruv',
The social's divided much unloved,

"But thatz so true like",
"Innit like",
Bourgeois reinvented social tikes.

"What about it tho"
"Not at all tho",
Feared difference from the status quo.

"Nah fam",
"Wid de fam",
Cult disciples of instagram.

Communaholics,
Vitriolic,
Diabolic,

Gamesters,
Influencers,
Society's single use redeemers,

"Link me up"
"Whatssup"
The Gen Z get-up.

I was rewarded with you
A beautiful flower
Pedals that never meddled
Just grew and viewed
Despite my attitude being rude
You were there when I became president
Watch me sworn in
Only to leave you while I win
You shrink a little but didn’t die
If I said I knew your loyalty
That be a lie
because when I was mr Knight
You stood by my side
When I was trying to get rides
To late night water slides
Your glowed dimmed
But I just press sim
Time seemed to bolt past me
Despite what you saying
I never thought it turn crappie
My friends disappeared
Like a thanos snap
No gauntlet could fix that mishap
My flower begging for my love
I so happily declined
Because the world around me
Kept me quiet like a mime
So her pedals began to fall
Since outside my life was her wall
I had all the likes
Which turned into tikes
Then a social feed
That ended with me under a ****
I had no where to go
Except low
as I sunk
Into my life’s final form
Which was a beautiful tragedy
But I guess call it gravity
Because you stayed down with me
Even though I rarely gave you water
Or sunlight
Hell I even let your soil turn white
No matter what
You knew I was right for you
So when the wind blew away
My dream
Your reality of us being together
Made life once again serene

I actually lost my mind a month and some days ago. I drank and forgot who I am. Sometimes it takes a punch but that night it was a bomb. I blew everything up. I lost myself. Body pieces scattered. I gave a pretty simple lie. I gave a pretty simple lie dude. I told my sister I wouldn't drink. But I gave a pretty blatant answer. I had indeed lied. I thought I was golden. I had me fooled, I had Lexi fooled, I had Billie fooled, I had Stephen fooled, I had John, Kayley, Rylee fooled, but I didn't have the madness in myself fooled. I ****** it all up. I was so excited. I was myself to the day I drank that ******* beer. And people wanna find a trigger, but there was none. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. But I didn't quit. And now I suppose I won't quit anymore. Lost everything, losing still to this day. I just wanna apologize. Bc every night, when I do sleep, I think about a pistol to my head. Then I pull the trigger. And it helps me sleep. But when I can't sleep I think about all the things I ruined. Guilt I guess. Who knows. **** man. I don't think I am gonna pull out of this one. There is no darkness, like before. It's just light and light. It's just me wanting to be alone bc I don't even deserve friendship. I don't wanna go out any more. I don't wanna leave my bed. The only thing that ***** about it is I am getting fat. I do NOT like that. I will expell all my money and die I guess. I more than this but I am hurting so badly. I wanna just expire like milk. Throw me out. I almost think being homeless would help bc that is what I deserve. I am sad yes. But happy about feeling shame. Bc I was never a good person. Only for 8 months but there is no home for me there. I tried. I tried to tell her I would go to aa, and stop but she didn't care and ran. Maybe talking isn't my feature. maybe I should lie. Who knows. I do not plan on getting any better because I hate the designs that were mine. And I hold a ******* grudge. I wanna live. I want to be normal but I dunno what the **** I am gonna do. I hate it here. I hate everything about it here. I ******* tried to make it normal but there is NOTHING normal about it here. Broken tikes lead me to death, broken promise bring me to unrest, broken thoughts bring me to a pause.

Way back in my day all men were real men,
We weren’t scared to help we weren’t insecure,
We were all open books but just make sure
You don’t look to come to me for advice,
About mental health or about your vice.
I’m here for you let’s be crystal clear.
I can help you if your car can’t change gear,
Or if you have a problem with the steer,
If it fails to start when you turn the key,
I’m here man, don’t worry, I have jump leads.
I told you, man, I’m always here for you,
Just don’t get the situation confused,
I don’t mean to be insincere or rude
But that feelings stuff is a load of muck.
Life is always rough, so men must be tough,
We like girls, cars and explosions and stuff,
We like fighting, football and monster trucks.  
We like manly-men, men-who-don’t-feel-men,
Not as in men who don’t like to feel men,
More men-who-can’t-express-how-they-feel-men.


When I was young I was the biggest fan of being “a man”,
Of being strong and never crying, because that is wrong.
Of football games and internalising pain from things that "shouldn’t hurt".
Until one day when I was sitting on my bed,
I was crying, and not because I banged my head,
Or not because of what someone said,
Or not because that character in Toy Story was dead,
But for no reason.
I just felt sad.
My Mother came in the door, looked at me,
And swore that everything was okay.
I said “I’m sorry for crying,
I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,
I just feel upset.”
She said, “Son, there hasn’t been a man yet
Who hasn’t cried because they were sad,
Most of them just don’t say.”
And see I cried in my mothers arms that day,
And I don’t see how that could have done me any harm,
To know that when I feel upset it is okay to cry.
We don’t have to put up a front and try
To act like “men” and seem just fine
When in reality we’re constantly balancing on a line
Between fear of people’s perception of us as soft
And having our emotions engulf us and finding ourselves lost.
Our culture causes confusion for little boys
Who think they have to play with army toys
And get in fights with other tikes to show their “manliness” and might,
Until their spite builds up inside them, so tight,
That it explodes down the line
When we say we’re fine
But really inside exists a mine of insecurity.
Because toxic masculinity is a sin to me
And leads to bigotry and other stupidity like
Rigidity and conformity to chauvinistic and sexist normalities.