Let’s make vulgarity beautiful
for a couple seconds.
Dwell on the ******* gimmicks of language,
the shock value of mixing syllables together,
the stupidity of poetic “terms”.
I’ll tell you about my hate for
******* clichés,
****** overused poetic devices and word pairings
that ruin the fun for all of us.
I’ll lay down some ground work here:
too many minutes of my life spent
trying to count syllables ,
rhyme words,
analyze and alliterate annoying argumentative articulations.

You know what?
**** alliteration, assonance and consonance,
bastardisations of the brilliance of poetry.
Destroying all appreciation of something so fine
at such early age,
with red pens,
poor introductions,
and misconceptions falling out of every ******* mouth.
Reused and recycled clichés
trivializing the beauty of rain,
that stomach hiccup when you see someone you like
the actual emotions that fundamentally make us human.
The over-judgemental *****
who can’t write for ****,
think they’re high and mighty,
overusing these feelings with the vocabulary of an eight year old,
giving us poets a bad reputation.
**** those *******
with their dark souls
empty hearts and
broken dreams
**** them over cups of cold coffee
in vintage mugs
snapping in a low-lit jazz café.
Sonnets, haikus and ballads aren’t the only forms of poetry,
nothing has to rhyme,
I shouldn’t be graded on my ability to be a thesaurus.
******* teachers narrow-mindedly give us
“creative writing” homework
that's not creative,
like the colour green.
I don’t see how they can judge poetry,
perhaps how it flows and word choice,
but I have an extra syllable
and purple doesn’t rhyme with anything,
**** me right?
Because purple is the only word which
accurately portrays what I mean,
excuse me if I pronounce this differently
rendering my iambic pentameter to ****.
I didn’t deserve a B.
*****.
Poetry isn’t something you can confine to four walls,
it can’t be truly ugly,
it can be the sort of ugly where your mum doesn’t want to put it on the fridge
but she keeps it until you’re satisfied,
and then she trashes it,
but it’s not ugly.
Remember that poetry is supposed to be beautiful,
*******.
Forget about that *****-*****-***** who ******* you over,
that ******* who didn’t say thank you or
that ****-faced ***** who should go digest a bag of *****
and write something worth reading.
Something that will makes eyes wander back to revisit phrases,
admiring the careful craftsmanship
that translates into something universally beautiful.

The moral here is that
poetry is an art to be mastered and
no one has yet to master it.
Some have come close,
and not all of them have used alliteration,
similes about the heart,
metaphors for love,
binding syllable limits
or rhyme schemes.
Whoever told you otherwise is a raging *******
who doesn’t deserve even the lowest paid *******.
Don’t be afraid to use taboo words;
it's your writing and anyone who doesn’t like it can *******.
Despite the irony,
vulgarity can be beautiful.

.               "Peter Look at me." Lexi whispers moving closer to him, The hot spray from the shower head scalding her back. Peter had his back flushed against the back of the shower, his eyes, the red of an Alpha wolf, wild with pure animistic rage. He's lost his humanity, she thinks, I have to bring it back, Peter Snarls and lunges for her. Lexi just holds out her palm and water tentacles from the streaming water behind her snake out and wrap themselves around his wrists and ankles, locking him in places, vicious snarls escaping him, his eyes burning red. Anger wells up in her chest making her own eyes Flash violet, her powers rising inside her. She closes her palms and the water restraints tighten cruelly against him, a small whimper coming from him. She looks him in the eyes and steps even closer, leaving the comfort of the water. "Peter please, come back to me my love." She whispers moving closer still until she was standing right in front of him, his breathing echoing off the shower tiles. She stretches her hand out and touches the hard muscles of his stomach, making him flinch violently, struggling against his restraints as he tries to move away. Lexi thinks back to the time when he would have done anything just to feel her touch, now with his humanity lost,  and the wherewolf taking hold he couldn't bare it. She splays her hand across his abs, tracing the hard muscles, trying not to wince as sounds of pure distress came from him. Looking back up into his eyes she searches for the Peter she had fallen in love with, imprinted with, and found nothing but a cruel cold hearted Animal staring back at her. She takes her hands away and sees the distress turn quickly back into a murderous glare as he pulls against the restraints trying grab her, his claws glistening with spray from the water. With a flick of her wrist the tentacles pull at his arms until they are spread out, far from touching her, another viscous growl, more tugging against them. "Peter I know you can hear me,try to fight this I know you can." She says pleading to any shred of humanity that might still be lurking within his soul. For a split second his eyes lose some of the bloodlust as her words penetrate the wolf that was rising, his face twists in concentration

               "Lexi- I can't Save yourself" He gasps through clenched teeth, His eyes begging her to run before he closes them. She steps near, her heart soaring with hope that she might be able to save him. When he opens his eyes again though all hope she just had shatters as the cruel animal returns. With renewed strength He lets out a harsh howl and yanks his arms, the water tentacles turning to puddles, slipping down the drain with the rest of the water, in the small space of the shower he lunges toward her. Fear ripples through her but she quickly shakes it off and once again lifts her palm stronger tentacles obeying her command wrap themselves around him just in time, as his sharpened fangs came three inches from her face. His body is slammed back against the shower wall, his head bouncing painfully off the tiles. As he trashes and pulls at the restraints Lexi moves back close to him, shutting her eyes in concentration. "His ego cuffs concatenata bestiam, relaxare scintillis humanitas seen, With these cuffs I chain the beast, only loosen with sparks of Humanity seen." The Latin words falling easily from her lips as she casts her spell on the water, knowing they would hold and only lessen their grip when the Peter she knew and loved came back. Her strength leaves her as the spell takes hold and she sags against the other wall, seeking its help to keep her upright. She leans her forehead onto the water slicked tiles and breaths in the steamy air, her eyes drift close. Knowing she was safe from anymore escape tempts she turns her back toward the beast that wore Peters face and steps back into the scalding water of the shower, letting the heat seep into her cold riddled body, and washing away any remaining fear as she lifts her face to the spray. Anger toward herself bubbles up inside her, how can she be afraid of the man she loves? whimpers fro behind her make her sigh and step out of the comforting spray. Turning around, she opens her eyes which were flashing Violet with her rejuvenated powers, she once again faces the love of her life. Hope once against swells inside her as she faces her task of Being Back Peter's humanity.

               "Peter I know you are still in there, I'm going to touch you now." She says with confidence as she steps closer once more. Hot spittle flies from his mouth as a deadly snarl comes from deep within, his fangs fully elongated, his claws at full length, clawing wilding at the air trying to tear her apart. She ignores the snarls and the beast and focuses souly on her task, She reaches out and touches his chest, right above his pounding heart. Moving her hand upward she runs her hands up his muscled well toned arms and with her left hand she places it carefully on his cheek, keeping away from his deadly venom coated fangs, knowing that one bite would have her transforming into a werewolf like him. The terrified whimpers he made makes her heart squeeze, knowing that the touch of a human in his wolf fill brain was torture for him. She looks in his eyes and silently pleads for this to work, knowing that with each touch the Peter she loved would have a fighting chance to break through and once again take hold of his body. She steps closer and kicking his feet apart she presses flush against him, the roughness of his soaked jeans rubbing against her naked body, his shirtless upper half smooth against her own chest. A strangled growl leaves him as he tries to shrink away from the closeness. She takes her hands and places them on either side of his face yanking it back to look at her. "Peter come on love FIGHT THIS!" She hisses pressing herself closer to him. The blood lust fades slightly, his arms sagging slightly as the restrains register a spark of his humanity. Her eyes shine with joy when she realizes it was working. She takes her hands away from his face and wraps them around his neck, stretching up on her toes to reach his mouth with hers. She kisses his mouth, not afraid of the snapping teeth, and feels the growls dissipating in his throat, as his arms continue to sag with the loosing cuffs. She watches as his eyes close and feels his lips returning the pressure to hers. A small gasps escapes her as she feels his arms finally wrapping around her body crushing her to him.

               "Lexi Stop, I can't fight this for long," he pleads against her lips, and on Que his arms are softly yanked from around her as the restraints sense the animal rising again. Going against her intuition she lifts her hand and the spell is broken letting his arms sag fully to his sides, giving him full use of them. He growls "That was a mistake, Lexi AH" He chokes out shutting his eyes and shrinking away from her half turning his body, trying to keep himself from slipping away. She moves, easily deflecting his feeble attempts to push her away, she takes hold of his arm and turns him to face her again and softly pushes him up against the wall which they had started to stray from, pressing herself firmly against him.

               "You can fight this Peter," She whispers in his ear before claiming his mouth again. It was her mistake. He kisses her with desperation trying to fight back the Wolf that was clawing it way through him. IN a split second He looses control and the beast takes hold. Giving off a murderous howl he sinks his claws deep within her back, Her scream tears through her, echoing off the tiles. She sags against his claws, making them sink in deeper as whimpers of agony spill from her kiss swollen lips.  With a grunt he rips his claws out and watches as she crumples to the ground, her strength deserting her. She splashes in the water built up in the tub , barely noticing the sting as her knees and hands hit the porcelain. Her arms wobble as she tries to keep herself up, her eyes cast down as she stares at his bare feet, the hem of his jeans dark with the water sloshing around him. "Pe-Peter Fight, pl-please" she mumbles as a fog starts to creep into her mind. Her arms fail her and she splashes face first into the ***** water. The water was tinged red and tasted like cooper with her life's blood as it oozed out of the ten claw marks on her back. Her breath quickens as it become shallow, the fog creeper faster, her vision starting to unfocused. Tears spill down her face and mix with the ****** water as she realizes she was going to die, and without saving Peter.

               "I failed you Peter, I'm sorry, Forgive me," She whispers unable to lift her head to look at the beast that claimed him. " I- I love You" She manages to sputter out before the fog took hold of her, rendering her unconscious.

               Those three words reached the beast, traveling down to Peter who was growing weaker by the minute LEXI! he screams mentally and pushes past the beast. He throws his head back, letting out a tortuous howl, as his eyes go from blood red to the Ice blue some Beta wherewolves posses, his original state. The beast retreats, never fully gone, just hibernating until the next best moment to strike. Peter looks down at the naked girl at his feet, and he drops to his knees in the red waters.

               "Lexi My love" He whispers his voice full of agony. He lifts her limp body out of the water and cradles her in his arms, He wipes away the hair that was plastered to her face and rests his hand against her cheek. "Open your eyes my love, you didn't fail me, you saved me, I'm right here, just open your eyes." He says, his voice choked with unshed tears. When she doesn't respond he cries out , placing his head on her chest, taking his hand away to wrap around her body in a tight grief stricken embrace, his blond hair making a curtain around his face as his grief pours out of him unchecked. A strangled Gasp makes her chest rise and he wipes his head up to find her eyes fluttering open, focusing weakly on him.

               "Peter, you're-" her words fade away as her strength seeps out of her. she lifts her hand and he quickly grasps it in his lifting it to his mouth kissing the fragile pale skin before putting his face in her hand, trapping it between his face and his hand.

               "Yes Lexi I'm me, I'm here, Don't give up" He says smiling through his tears. A faint smile spreads across her bloodless lips as she closes her eyes, her breathing was struggled but she clinged to the last bites of life in her as she pulls her power in, drawing strength from the water around them, the air that fought it's way to her lungs, the Fire from the small candle she had lit in the bathroom earlier for strength, the minuet grands of dirt that always managed to find their way in the house. But most of all she Draws on the Spiritual world the one that swirled around every living creature. She draws all this power inside her and wills her body to heal itself, Fighting for her life. Her power pulls and a soft warm glow fills her body as the wounds slowly pull themselves closed healing themselves. Her breathing becomes easier and she gulps huge mouth fulls, coughing as she takes too much in. Peter tighten's his hold on her and stares at her in wonder as she pulls her broken battered body together. "Oh Lexi," he gushes as color returns to her body, making it flush a pale pink, her eyes going from their crystal green to the purple as she works her magic. Finally the wounds were sealed shut, and her eyes return to their crystal green, her body sagging in exhaustion in his arms.

               "You're you, you're really you." She whispers, happiness ringing in her soft sleepy voice. Peter smiles at her and strokes her cheek, his fangs had vanishes and his claws had retracted.

               "Yes Lexi I'm really me."

               "I thought you're humanity was lost,"

               Peter just shakes his head at her, tightening his hold on her he stands up, carrying her bride style he steps out of the shower, not bothering to shut off the water. Holding her close to his body she rests her head against his bare chest and sighs as she hears his heart thumping at a normal pace. Leaving the bathroom he pads down the hall to their room. Once inside, with one hand he pulls back the covers on their king sized bed and gently deposit her onto it. going to his side of the bed he quickly strips out of his wet clothing and slides under the covers with her, drawing her close to his body, skin to skin. Lifting her eyes to his he smiles at her.

               "NO Lexi, I don't think I can ever lose my humanity again, want to know why?" He says, his eyes hypnotizing her. She snuggles closer to him, her legs tangling with his,

               "Why?"

               "Because YOU are my humanity." He says as his lips crush her in a passion filled kiss.

I wish I could stop looking at you
And checking where you are
I know I know too much
But trust me this information are unhelpful
They only give me a wonder
Why am I still looking at our story
And why can't I find you anywhere
Including good memories
Hard times
Heart trashes
Places

The age, when they are supposed to play with toys
Picking up the broken & trashes for others, these Garbage boys
In the piles of disposed plastic chocked their story sentimental
The boys, dusty body so frail & gentle
Wrapped in clothes, tattered torn, dull & discolored like them
Surviving against the rules of Darwin
Too starved & malnutritioned & no one cares
Only the open sky & thrown food, they share
In the chaos of every city they have to find a place to sleep
They collect the things, what people call waste & cheap
No parents, no future, just the harsh life on the road side
Living in their small world unaware with pride
Shiny cars & luxury clothes, sparks their eyes
Telling that they have dreams,
But Their memories full of hate, insult & razed
Which are permanent & can't be erased
Unexpected rains, deadly cold & sweaty summers
Not every one of them end up like a Kite Runner
When people sleep comfortably in their sweet home
They stand there with the fainted & blurred shadow alone

when in stillness
undying screams within explode
anxieties crawl like bugs
under the skin
of which the world is deaf n blind

when in stillness
callued demons awake
trashes revealed
clogging up the mind
for hundred years or so

when in stillness
they melt away
energy recharged
vibration flows the vines
lightness comes up

eyeing n  eyeing n  eyeing
the mind pattern n sensation
with full awareness of which
free from cravings or aversions
to stillness and equanimity we sync

black or white
tan-like brown
hate the people
we are blind

everybody is a group
world of fun
showbiz catchers
trend-like thing

views of envy
tricky sight
the line is created
trashes are trashed

if you’re so small
they are big
live with it
side by side

It took me a decade of toil
years of experience and expertise
to learn that men are happy scoring
ecstatic when he bags and trashes
that short win he has not earned
Sometimes as women we steam
trimmed with seams of emotion
awaiting to open hearts unreserved
Yet he don’t want this vulnerability
he wants to be ignored and uncared for
denied and kept at the deepest ledge
for when you give yourself easily
he will devalue your inner-self
blocking and tantalising from afar
Men are still immature within
afraid of closeness,scared of love
afraid of the emotions,scared to trust
and when he chases,he is fast as a cheetah
preying closer and closer to his price
and when he lies, he sugar coats the facts
so that he creates an illusionary promise
Yet deep within he is like a baby
strained with automatic reflexes
unable to make an emotional dialogue
on how to make the woman really happy....

he is the
worst person
you have
ever
met

he is constantly
judging

always
making snide
remarks

always telling you
that you can be doing
better

when he talks
there is
always a sense
of acknowledged
arrogance

his steps are loud
like the rest of him

he always seems to be around.
especially when you don’t want
him to be

he knows when
one more sly remark
will do you in

(and then makes
one)

he trashes your house at parties
he eats out your fridge clean
he seduces your girlfriend and
beguiles your wife and he always
seems to be preferred by your
friends

you can’t shake him
you can’t hide from him

he knows where you are
and you know that too

he doesn’t need shadows
when you’re as paranoid
as you are

he can be in the room
and yet somehow
be hiding from you

he laughs when you scream
at him for the millionth time

he smiles as you cry
or hold back crying

he climaxes when you beg
him to stop

he will never leave you

you are born with him
and will die with him

no-one else knows he’s there
but they always suspect there’s
someone bugging you

(they know people like him
too)

he doesn’t ever leave things too
messed up
and the worst part of it all
is that he’s right

always right
always always always
right

when he whispers that
you don’t love her

he’s right

when he shows you how stupid
you were acting

he’s right

when he dances ahead of you
because you can’t keep up

he’s right

and most of all he’s right
when he tells you it’s all
your fault

you can put your fists up
but that’s worth jack-****

he never needs to say a word
but he does anyways

(he always wins,
especially in fights)

he’ll ask you one day
what it’s like to be the
biggest **** up in the
world

you will suddenly hear
an empathic tone
in his voice
that most definitely
wasn’t there
before

what’s it like?
he asks again
and again
you hear that tremble,
that aching,
shaking,
terrible
confusion
that means he
really wants to
know

but why does he?

does he care?
does he not hate me?
does he… love
me?

he waits for your answer

“you’re not anybody,
are you?”

you’ll ask

no, he’ll say,
only what you
let me be

and from that day forth
he’ll only be a memory,
threatening to come back
if you ever let yourself
go (like you did) again

052816

Career is calling me,
Ringing for several times.
My thumping heart says,
"These're your dreams, why not give it a try?"
Lingering deep down on my marrows,
An illusion of deception,
An escape to higher dimension.

Yes, I want to be who I wanna be,
But when not in Christ, it'd be a shattered me.

Calling isn't ringing at all,
But he's bumping down my inner soul.
He's not my type but there's something in him.
That waiting becomes a rest that's a prerequisite.
I'd required so much for myself;
At times, rest becomes a chapter to close
I'd to wipe every single misfortunes of old
I'd rather face this moment of yes to His call.

Praying to God led me to found the key,
The gist to a rebel who's vault is in an alley.
Dreams of old, faults of such degree
Of burnt, unwrapped -- an ambushed stealing of me.

"What have you done?"
One voice tamed the thousands,
Bring halt the aphonic mimics of who's legit.
Found myself showered w/ crystal-clear tears.

Awaken, tattooed the psyche of self;
Trashes became a view, floating with the unrest ocean.
I hear no breeze nor its whispering fears,
But fear itself, a coated-candy of trampled gears.

Eyelash blinkered in hubris Rubik’s knight
Elevation of pogrom ennobled by triaged triumph minus the cynic summation of all light
Littoral swank bronzed like starlet fantasia with a Carey mountaintop jeer
Reichstag extinguished blaring sirens of cacophony capers to benumbed Linkin Park cheer
Knells intrepid by quakes of remonstrance staged in histrionic applause
Southern Colonies shifting in Charleston surgical in orderly slugabed dogged laws
Slipshod through ribbacles of rengall zenkidu among the sertivine poison ivy
Grimace at gamboled rivulets of a moribund Vanilla Sky for departed wiseacres of savvy dicey ICE toxic Harvey Dent slimy
A mannequin Marx Ralph alienated the truest alien by pioneering disdain of a hostage giraffe summiting a Swiss Alp
Master of time 12th bradycardia for Generator design parked beneath escarpments of base aphasia milquetoast in killjoy Strickland nickels away from a gubbertushed mouth
LOST legend enunciating the furor of epochs of egalitarian traipse
Trapped by the bootlick of a wrinkle of Van Winkle revolutionary agape
Curved by soliliquy master of belletrist prose
The vogue can’t help but bunt, balk, denounce the remembrance of Lady Madonna pose
We beat the muckrakers of rummaged lisp of culinary suns that the sons of privilege are emoluments to apolaustic zeal first known to transmogrified nuns, before the poppies made the few into many and the notion of an insuperable line of infinity into a spherical nullification of the concept of none
Estrapade engorges the fustilug magnet of the kitsch Kenosha Chicago Demolition drive-by-derbies “once read”
That two kings one Titanic by skin-color dashed dreams the other both the coins of tails eloped with heady dreams of head
Sacrifice shadow dancing with pettifoggery in slumps of aboriginal dances of marsupial rice
Native to extortion gouged blind as Samson exacts lachrymose cremations of Pikes Peak trick-or-treat aghast with fright
Temples raised in 46 years cemented never in the Mumbo Jumbo politics of those lacking the oceanic schadenfreude among queers
That by their exclusion the panmixia of fluid alchemy is dauntless scrabble limited by NORAD notions of Tears for Fears
Henpecked rooster awakens the serfdom of Ronald’s (sly spy) Drugs sailing with dovetails of elapse downtrodden in modern clubs
Drunken *** addict sell-out charlatans berated  by Ingram Angles sent by maleficence are the grubhub of Harriet Tubman torching promising tapestries with rugged rugs
Slinging the bait of fish-hook dimples on freckled effigies of ****** humiliation outmantled by Mickey weight
I thunder a fulgurant explosion against recrimination of white-collar criminals that philander saturnalia in pretense with facetious swarpollock freight
Crooks of tyranny exhort the paranoiacs of indemnity to sunken canned soup applause of a Warhol extortion
Berating my audience with drooling slavers of inelegant tortoise byzantine like an Istanbul dredged with intortion
Mr Deeds is not a champion of BRE Properties nor the pinnacles of inertia, a psychiatric squeeze
My orange juice is not a car chase against treecheese in terminal punitive disease
Soaring with the prosperous tongue against the walloped nativism of pounced impounds having too much fun
I let the other guardians of the order of salvation pivot vitriol in loaded dice against Orangutans of Swedish minted gum
Caesar died for the seizure of Anglican pride of a namesake percolating millenia for Brutus in the Washington Bullets of a conquered Ottawa on strike carnal with Chauvinism in regional divide
Never has there been a more hollow trope than the agency of deep state defamation of a scurrilous backbite of gnashing pride
Lost to pollster tricks of acquiescence and caricatures of a menacing personage Swift on the Riff but never the snarling Menace of a Blondie Biff
I tower above the anthills of conformity of luxury in Jamaican Bob Sled Teams testing the curiosity of enlightened “What Ifs”
Canada Dry for striking people enthused by Rye abides in the memory of reform that skulks the skunks that make every Scudworth cry
Because a Dental Dam damsel living in streets of peril fascinated by distance is the contortion of entreaty in the pasquinade of attempts at American Pie
May the city of a figurative crucifixion burn with the irony of a thousand suns as Wendy’s burgers unload on prejudice with albatrosses of winsome puns
Fixed data interpolated by convenient lies of serial killers who aim for blue skies shanked in Oswald infamy for the imposture of any flashbang revenge against cinematic guns
I blacklist the Zemeckis villainy as a trudge of travesty
Hedged lies blinkered by Batman and Robin puns redeemed by Dinosaurs of Amnesty
Obviously belittled by futures etched by a more honest infinity
Because 88 keys are not a stroke because the infinite bees know the parlance of divinity
Invited lissome taxidermies of Capone against teetotalers of parvanimity of vainglory overthrown
Showers the honest hominist reckoning of a world where neither crudity of know-nothing radical polarization owns every inept baritone
Crusading a secular war because the gubbertushed eccedentesiast spinsters of Santa Cruz deserve a gassy overtone
Torch the SC Pacific Avenue for peace
Let the world unite behind a singularity with purpose in ventilation of Speedman’s release
That antithetical Jacks of many names are wed with the progeny of enduring lists of NSA protection rather than rentgourge Denver PD eager to chaos decimated by the decimals of a region forever boycott and impeached
To the decisive curling of the frolicked Abandoned Pool servitude crass disasters are the sheol of impudent flagrant overreach
Regnant on the turmoil of invented throne
I scowl at the chicanery of Capone’s Chicago sweltering with Kenosha infamy tossing contortionist strippers a vulcanized bone in a DIA Diamond that even 11,500 years of knowledge is surpassed in condemnation of screaming E.T. calling the right home
Speak Now because the reach of forever is God appeased not by a kowtow but a mobilized ambition for Why? When? And How?
History will remember gentility as the kind steward rather than a Disco Demolition Derby of urbacity venerating a seasonal Golden Cow
Hipsters flock with folly to South African extortion for freebooters who bootlick the aceldama of war against the sublime currency of a winner surrounded by thugs
TOO MANY URBAN KIDS ARE TAUGHT BY REDUCTIVE TAUTOLOGY TO HATE The United States of America RATHER THAN NURTURING SYNCRETISM IN PATRIOTIC HUGS
Imperfect in design with disagreement in plainest sight
Sometimes libertarianism with a Democratic twinge is clearly in the right that should believe in reform even when the footloose girouettism is too tight
Yet forestalled for authentic grit the grisly rentgourge of venal abysses knows the countermand against Rand with hyperboles of the clearest *******
The true flock congregates around scepters built not with militant graft but a promenade of sultry dance for the defiant C.L.I.T.
Exercise with the Rock knowing school buses of dogmatism inferior are distraught
Dying dogmatism is a peacock of industry the yeggs can easily unlock rather than truckle with truculent Scottish Rites tasty with Connery Scotch
Defenders of the misleading staircase because of the carapace of Hovering pertinacity easily won and bought
Neither scary nor deliberate streets are rumpus of elevations of unbounded anarchy considerate but robbed by the illiterate
That the delegated mansion will be robbed by the cooperation of the remorseful idiot recognizing his snide mendaciloquence in destructive Roswell Records limerick
Scowls are on petrol and patrol hoping Tesla is a short of bravado too intrepid to sanction free-for-all profligacy in alleys that bowl
To the Emerald Street lie of hypes of perdition rather than merely a seasonal token embarrassment coal
The fossilized future is the irrevocable past because more respect is needed than the ***** of a maskirovka caste
Diamond Lightning in Bhagavad Gita prancing with the delusion of the everlasting mummification of Brawndo ash
Dinner with Egyptsy malingers on tomes etched flippant in integrity and all about the curated snare of kitsch cash
The cache valley of LASER tag shattered like Joseph Smith flagellating the confederate hayday with articulate gnash
Fast & Furious the amused by Suburban subway know the trailblazer trashes of The Stupids’ being Einstein about Boogie Dubs rather rash
Streaking through a Tucker rule the Buccaneers live for the SoulSeek of a riddled ruler benighted of prerogative of Roger Goodell bumping in his Ferrari the tucked serenade of Tool
Wrong band because they linger in the shadow dancing backpages of scandals of Norweigan hourglasses of shameful hush hush Vikings mining furloughs of pulverized anticipation sand
Humbled retinue shelves the ossified limpid droll drool
As the haze of submarines scouting pridefall galls of indolence betraying innocence becomes moral cigarettes of Menthol Kool
Reparations for chappy chapstick games of bowery riches
The urbane needs to read, discern and maneuver against whiplash found in Navi witches
Swapping homes with crack addict legalese an *** to a bronzed party crackling with cackles Home Alone
Knows a toiletry of escape gullible like Seahawks wishing they could contain a fumbled season by Mahomes
Jones methamphetamine paranoiac manure desiccated by folksy homilies of brimstone cremation deserts his flock to abide by a flagging wayward temptress
Decimated by the agency of time his Austin crenellation flounders in grimace of the untimely swoon his covert empress
Blinded by the light of darkness in subversion
Excoriated for the deeds of his permission to demote commotion into only an acquiescent dance with barbed etch-a-sketch conclusion- a half-baked *******
Quacksalver poetaster wrinkled with hatred simpering paranoia strangled by Hendrix abeyance of turgid delusion
Lurid underground Princeton gilds infested with defected dementia in cozens in the fritty of heralded mistress SHE appointed
Sandlot ravens cloistered the bravado of thirst for chosen words scrappy in clawed henpecks the pointless illegal sanctioned to brusque witticism anointed
Lamps of pathway sparkle with coruscated stargazer Winslet dreamy swank illustrious by providence
Engrenage of delopes of pettifoggery identity staggers the woozy dismal day of disjointed wounds on Native sons Denver can’t damage in a lonely campaign for the prodigal bends of Overlook Lorraine Motel bent
Intrepid in gallantry I swoop the scrivello tusked with might
Penetrating the vivid dreams of the serenade of alpenglow daylight
That love might rule over chance and probability above the specter of dynasty prodigy progeny tithing gravity in rent
Yet this taper of majestic poise will outfox even the careless gambles of the prodigal son Mr Sender already traipsed conquered and went
The mountaintop is so clear from the cloister of authenticity drinking Eminence Front of the WHO rather than the coherence of the near
Because titans shepherd the good flock without insult and not quavering with insuperable time flackey with tremulous fear
I dare this day to outlast benighted ignorance of the narrow gate of a persecution tsunami on a Lisbon tear
Because galloping ahead of the internecine sheds the serpentine craft of 3:1 Genesis met with the worst fleeced fleer
Not auctioned off like ******* vogue to the disfavor of poor taste
I am the true Royal Flush that can always count on the aced basic but mostly acidic flourish of a jest in bass predicated on the basis for Mozart pH
Today could be the summit of acclimated prodigy in startled degrees temerity could never bet against
Because you better bet the Bros and Cos of civilization are skilled in ostentation of Sterling Pound defense
Never offensive to the liturgy of triumph beckoning an apocalypse now tentative memory on a Manifest Destiny frontier rarely on wickers of extinguished cattle ranchers knowing the gamut of acumen to defend a fortress with the best fencing James Bond could dispense
Now is either a cordial joke of a flagrant anarchy balking at destiny
Or the sunrise majesty of the twelve tribes and beyond defeating the stingy bees of infamy
Your choice doesn’t defeat my voice
But your action heralds my loyalty with a triumphant Victoria of an age not for agelast geeks intimidated but living clairvoyance with fidelity to the right choice for the right time to swim in elegant rejoice
(1977 Words)

Chaos over sleep.
You supply the torches, I'll supply the mob.
This bed's too big for the one of us.
The maggots already ate through the moose, leaving two yellowed-white anchors made of bone to sink into the floor.
Bologna; The meat that lies straight to your face.
The news is getting olds.
Analyzing bags and trashes. Paralyzing eyelashes snap shut, trapping the fly.
Thus, the death of an ego was born.
Reading is kind of like smoking except you don't burn the paper.
The quickest way to burn a bridge is to kiss it.
Don't be a stranger now. I'm strange enough for the both of us.
The ins and outs of the whens and wheres I do and do not belong.
That bar fight with the bathroom door really did a doozy on my eyebrow.
You know I will hunt whatever, you pra(e)y.
Blessed by lowercase god and misspelled Amerika('Merica).
Same message, different bottle.
My dreams are too loud before I fall asleep.
The first possibility that you jump to write off has the highest probability of containing the things that will set you right off.
My teeth may not have any layers of skin left to ride by.
From poverty to profanity; proverbs to insanity.
A serpent a day keeps the apples away.
Growing weary of the definitive abstracts, I curl up somewhat uncomfortably numb in the cracks of the curbs and sidewalks...
And with that the last thought of the night twisted into the air and joined with the wisps of smoke pouring from the final cigarette. The odyssey in mind sends our hero sailing from the shores of "I know how to do it all" into the vast and turbulent waves of "I do it all."
The bird who clipped its own wings.
The Jack of All Trades, the Queen of No Hearts, the King of Nothing, the Ace of Idle. Faceless cards.
Just a chess piece on a checker board. Maybe there's less to figure out than there is to understand.
Always on the brink of making things right. Don't let it slink away in the middle of the night.
I had an uncomfortably close call with life. What some would call a near-life experience. I swear I was inches away from living...

he wanted nothing more than her love
and she wanted nothing more than his demise
to him, she was god's dove
while for her, he was the product of the trashes' cries.

yet, she could not explain the feeling in her chest
as it constricted painfully and threateningly
when she saw him enter eternal rest
and he fell to ground, lifelessly.

maybe she didn't love him as much
or at all, even
but she would do anything to crunch
at the chance to enter heaven.

she would enter heaven to claim back trash
because no matter what she words she would say
he had more worth than any cash
as she longs for just one yesterday.

The voices inside talks and in multiple highs it trips
In the midst here I passively shout.
The trashes and my internal gossips
Here they are to put me in doubt,
Questioning my existence and the unknown trips.
But you know what, I will stay align and to this I vow
To being uncomfortable and reaching beyond pain
To appreciate this little spark of life and its beauty again and again.

i am mother nature

i am your home
i gave you shelter
i gave you warmth
i gave you comfort
i gave you food
i gave you water
i gave you air

i gave you everything

i am what you called your safe space
i am where you planted your first flowers
i am what brings you from one place to another
i am where you belong

look around
all you see are pieces of me
my trees
my oceans
my clouds
my land
my entirety

every single action
determines your future
every single action
shapes your environment
every single action
is what makes you
YOU

before doing anything
think twice
think thrice

when all the trees are cut down
when all the oceans are filled with trash
when all the air are unsafe to breathe
when all the land are abandoned
only then you will discover

the importance of mother nature

listen to me

start picking up your trashes
start consuming less plastic
start throwing your garbage properly
start living rightfully

because

if I am kept unhealthy
humans won’t survive

i am here since the earliest of times
i have witnessed the evolution of organisms
i have given birth to various creatures
and
i have seen them died at my own hands
i don’t actually need them
they need me
you need me

if you won’t take care of me
i CAN NOT take care of you

i am not a fragment of your universe
i am your universe

i am inevitable

As winter weather fall like feather
The ashes of my heart trashes me apart
Like nudging the piercing to get a feeling
It makes me pay away
The deeds of my yesterday

It's slow like cancer
And the pain was from your answer
That I can never be your lover
I know I'm just a cover
And this isn't forever

So I'll bit my tongue and bleed
For someday i might succeed
But for now I'll hide this pain
Like wearing a jacket on my pocket

On a rainy season of May
So i crawl down your hall
Out of this place
For i know i have a replace
Just let me take time to call
For what i can only do is slow fall

There are days when things are good.
Where you rise
With a sunset lighting up your bones.
You feel big
And your heart is something you love.
And you smile
While the rain trashes against your face like tears that aren't yours.

imagination is my best drinking buddy
i’ll always pick up the check
on this prison planet, fantasy is the liberator
it pulls down every cloud
undresses the ladies
expunges adultery
pulverizes the patriarchy
obliterates mommy
flattens fatty tissue
bulldozes boredom
annihilates procrastination
decimates iron-poor literature
gobbles up poverty
overthrows the workplace
abolishes taxation
liquidates profit
exterminates capitalism
confuses the cops
torpedoes certainty
trashes common sense
wrecks mortality
exterminates the divine
fantasy, the one-stop shopping mall
of freedom

if you are very tired
you rest
if it is difficult
find another way

on the road you would dissolve
you without ever realizing

somewhere to time drags
trashes can not resist

where their stories,unknown

I see them, human being
I hear them, all breathing
I spoke to them, they all lying
Their mouth speak *******
I wish my name wasn't mention
But now I am on their intention
They follow me in my deep dark forest
Dig a hole inside a shallow heart
Back in reality, where
they can't see clearly
Telling my name, creating dross issues
I remained silent, listening to trashes
Why they don't focus on themselves
Instead of diving in life of others?

Gaia is totally ******* -
Her world mistreated for so long,
She has finally had about enough -
Vowing revenge for her mistreatment.
She has gathered every weapon
At her command and flung them at us
One by one:
Fire and Flood and moving mud;
Snow with icy coverings;
Wind that trashes homes and lives;
Ground that moves and breaks apart;
Rain that drowns the roadways;
The changing faces of disease
That replicates among us.
But we refuse to hear her cry
The bombs and bullets ever fly
And the clock is striking midnight.
ljm