I want to smoke a cigarette.

I want--
to lean against a doorway, my converse shoelaces brushing against the brick.
to stare up at an overcast sky and know that gray doesn't always need a slow, mournful soundtrack. to feel the paper between my fingers and on my lips and take a deep,
deep
drag.


I want
to empty my lungs of everything they have and watch it all curl, wispy and insubstantial--
watch it disappear into the bustle of moving cars as the coffee shop door tinkles while people in pretty scarves and
pea coats and
black-rimmed glasses
with fingerless gloves
and nose piercings
and black tights covering skinny legs
hold hands and exchange knowing smiles and
enter behind me,
and cold, February ocean wind lifts the tips of my hair.

I want to taste it--those few minutes of isolated reflection. It'd be like meditation beneath an awning on a city street.

I was danglin' my feet off the edge of that pretty throne
called Childhood..
swinging up and down and all aroun'
twistin, sometimes just dangling my feet, twin tin'...

and all the while, My pappies were standing by the picnic table,
talking about how sad it was
that they ******* a man.. ruined his life in fact..
and well, after all , thats just how it's gotta Be
it was accident and all... sort of

and I heard 'em telling a lie in fact!!  a Whole Lie about this guy!!
an wasn't even nothin' that took place.. Nothin!!
and not one of 'um.. with enough integrity to say anything

so I sat there swinging.. thinking 'bout it all...
then,
I heard a man come up and say "problem solved ...he done killed himself..."

and it was then, that I saw the LIFE leave their bodies
everyone of them..
except ONE.....

lifted up like smoke
just left em...
knowing what they'd done
lied, hated.. ruined a person, took away his Name...his  hope..

left 'em, with all the children unfinished..
not one son grown up yet

So I asked that One... what are gonna do?

and I Saw him Look... and SEE
the legacy of his Life
standing out like a Vision of the Grand Canyon
Pristine like....

and then suddenly, there was rivers  inky Blackness flown' like crazy...
running thru the hollows
running,
like a River of unstoppable Magnitude
cutting through Rock like it was Nothin'

creating a whole new World of UNDERSTANDING.....

and he turned to me and said...
I'm gonna make it Right
For your Pappy...

and He did.
He saved my Life.
He fixed my breathing...

:/

Some people
        just gotta live.

That means twistin blunts
and shoutin till your red.

     Some people
           just gotta survive.


That means pokin their head out
                   on occasion
and showin how green they can be.

    Some people have simple ambitions
like one a day vitamins, and blue Berrys.

Some people just live.

And some people hate those people
for doing what they are afraid to do.
;)

Husky honey-whispers
escape her lips like smoke.
My stomach goes all hurly-burly
and I forget how to use my hands.

I bite my tongue. I bite my lip. My eyes implode.
I imagine I blappity-zap  
a-twistin' and a-turnin' into some 1940's cartoon fella
hair black and slicked back,
heart poppin' out my chest like an alarm clock.
All I can do is stand around, pretending I'm not
getting drunk, just by – staring
at her.

She can't see me like I see her.

I want to stomp up on the dining table,
then burn the kitchen sink down

and scream ******* to the land and sky
for making her and I
as things not made for each other.

She plays around with her mouth on mine.
She holds me like a sister, and kisses me like a pet.
I melt with every moment I get.
She will never love me.

Thinkin' bout you is all that I really do, my mind in a spiral.
Twistin' and turnin', every second I'm learning.
As my eyes get red I keep the blunt potent with your love.
Anyway you see me soaking I'm floating in these magical words that my ***** said, keepin life in balance is all the he really did.
Now he's dead, killing himself over the riches and wealth.
I wanna keep this poem on one topic, but my mind is flowing, its goin'.
Like the late Cap $**** said, "Who wouldn't want a girl with elegance, intelligence and a cute way of presentin' it?"

*******... two of my friends almost died in terrorist attacks!

.                     i see a great disasater,
not through lack of innovation,
but through the perpatuation
                                                    ­ of squander
for what was deemed a gift,
but has become
        a christmas present
in the hands of a child
  that islam has become...
if muhammad was alive
                                       today?
he'd decapitate the entire
        saudi family...
    and bring about
             the compensating
reign of *ali...
these ******* sand *******
  have had their disneyworld
of yachts and european *******
for far too long...
   duma! duma! narodowa duma!
pride! pride! national pride!
    what, a return to a horse
                  and carriage?
i don't see a phase of great
innovation,
   even though i'm sure it exists,
and it waiting for monetißation...
     of that i'm sure of,
   within the framework
            of keeping "secrets"...
what secrets?
    there are no secrets,
there are only
skewed lies,
           and unwritten truths...
   that's it...
it's a pretty simple geometric
   allowance that gave us a square
to fathom...
         you know that
        when muhammad
was talking about the dajjal
he meant it in terms
     of an arabic confinement,
right?
   when he said the hadith
        concerning
the east, he didn't imply
    ulaanbaatar - or genghis khan...
what's the hub of saudi arabia east
   of mecca? isn't it riyadh?
        a bunch of ******* fatsos...
        diabetic sheiks...
     amputees in waiting...
bonkers logic...
    no wonder the syrians
         imploded and
turned against themselves...
            these? these are the people
at the crux of a religion?
            so a syrian baker turned
  on a syrian car mechanic...
                      any intervention by foreign
power?
            is a heresy of conducting war...
no foreign power can be allowed
   influence into civil former cordiality
   turned into opposite warring factions!
none!
         the path toward hell
                     is plagued with
good intentions...
          and the west has made
                    a step onto that path...

if the western world populace are
dubbed oil junkies,
    what does that make the arabs?
sugar junkies?
              i guess so, seems the only
rational explanation as to why
  weilding a scimitar
     they'd sooner cut themselves
than chop an "infidels" head off...
******* fastos:
lazy *** sand-******* / camel-jockyes;
oh sure, come to poland
or to russia...
    we'll show you what we did with
the turks, in the 12th september 1683
battle for vienna;
    bull-*******-whipped-woodolf
                        ­               goin' bananas
  in his crematorium grave,
   twistin' 'n' turning,
          while mao tse-tung fiddled with
some egg-friend noodles,
   and stalin fiddle his moustache into
a hipster look: y'ah... well oiled
   giving it the full curls.

the last of my breddahs i’m just following suit
at the end of the day i’m still that same ol’ yute
twenty one now, i hope you get there too
cuz if you ain’t here, i know you’ll get here soon

and perspective is mad cuz i was once you
an ambitious little boy with some radical views
cravin’ for a chance to receive and shoot
like Laca in the box, cuz i would take that too

but what i would do
just might not be true
to what you would do
but if i asked myself now what would i do
then i’d get the same answer like two plus two
cuz i still got my views

and let’s be honest
i ain’t really changed much
at least i think i haven’t cuz i really ain’t exchanged much
different ideologies and people ain’t been sayin' much
other than this same old same old for these same months

cuz kamala this and donald trump that
is no different to me than what ’16 had
the same old story pulled out the same hat
but we don’t draw the lines to try to change that

we move
and fall into a groove
even though it’s bumpy when we're wishin' it was smooth
cuz
life is always twistin' throughout different routes
i guess that’s why we always try to stay close to our roots

cuz if we never have to travel in search of our truths
then we can say the life we lived is closest to truth
am i saying that to say i’m worse off than you?
just because i’ve strayed further than you?

i think it’s mad
and honestly i’m glad
i’ve seen so many cities that i never thought i’d have
the chance of seeing
and instances of being
surrounded by some people that i never thought would be in
my life, and i’m grateful
for what they’ve brought to my table
if my last supper was today then to all of them i’m faithful

because
too many times we see some **** go south
saying words that shouldn’t leave our mouths
words that turn into action with a  punch in the mouth
and then it’s EMS, ambulance, blackin’ out
and it’s the USA so hospital be cost amounts

of money that we ain’t got
so we divert from those actions and those nasty thoughts
cuz if the cost of death is higher than the price of life
why wouldn’t i try to see the beauty in the strife
and never let some nasty words tell me how to live my life

that's mad
cuz i’ve seen some of my people take that **** real bad
when i’m on the pitch i can’t say i’ve not had
experiences like that
where i’m contemplating whether to abandon match
or to let that pass

but still, i’m here
my body and mind are intact
and i still got these same breddahs behind my back
and this same family to watch my back

and only experience and those people contribute to my repertoire
and only form my skillset when i’m well-aware i’ve set their bar
and those who haven’t done that yet should know exactly  who they are
because they’d know they aren’t far

because i’m only 21 and i hope that i still have lots of life left to give
i hope that my people can sort out their problems like it’s flour in a sieve
i hope we continue to broaden our horizons like Sid Meyer’s Civ
and most importantly i hope we remember to take a deep breath

and live

enjoy, pree more life
find the beauty in the struggle and strife
as we continue to strive
and find ourselves as we get surprised
by the courses of life for which we must improvise

another milestone, and another celebration
offering another chance at self-recalibration
as goals yet to be achieved are still the final destination
or so we hope to fulfil imagination

so,
twenty-one years on this planet and now i'm forced to look in one direction
forced to find my style even when it’s gettin' hairy and i'm facin' deflection
forced to go forward even if there’s a wall with no intention
of breaking down because i have to break those barriers using nothing but a mirror,
my reflection

WHAT IF
SO CALLED BLACK AMERICANS WERE THE REAL JEWS?
WHAT IF
WE'RE BEING LIED TO ABOUT THE HEBREWS!
WHAT IF
THE LAND OF ISRAEL WAS CREATED AND TAKEN BY FORCE?
WHAT IF
THE SOULS OF BLACK SLAVES IN AMERICA WERE ANGRY AND DESIRED REVENGE?
WHAT IF
THE SO CALLED NATIVE AMERICANS WANTED THEIR LAND BACK
WHAT IF
ALL OF AMERICA OPENED THEIR EYES AND REALIZED
WHAT IF
THE TRUTH WAS BEING HIDDEN TO CONTROL WHAT YOU THINK
WHAT IF
TO KEEP US BUSY BY OVER WORKING OUR BRAINS
WHAT IF
WITH PERVERSE TV SHOWS AND ENTERTAINMENT THEY TRAIN!
WHAT IF
THE INFAMOUS "THEY" WERE ALL AROUND US TWISTIN TRUTH AND GETTIN PAID
WHAT IF
SECRET SOCIETIES WERE HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
WHAT IF
THEIR MEMBERS TOOK AN OATH N VOWED TO NEVER TELL THEIR SPELLS
WHAT IF
BEAUTIFUL EARTH IS REALLY HEAVEN BUT THEY STRIVE TO MAKE IT HELL FOR US
WHAT IF
ANCIENT WRITINGS WARN US OF ALL THESE THINGS AND WE ARE GODS TRUE CHILDREN
WHAT IF
WE CHOOSE RIGHT FROM WRONG AND ALWAYS DO THE RIGHT THING
WHAT IF
WE WERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE GOOD AGAINST EVIL WAR?

So any voice gets a voice.
I can say any thing I think
good to say if you were
pulling the loose thread there that was an amazing
device
strung along, strung out from the spider wombedman,
riding me like a demon,
as old story tellers told, to the boys, while the
bleedin' old wives was twistin' tales
t'helenback and then t'texas

where we settled, to hear this old  boy finish the first
of our last times tales, one a month in 2021.

We pickup next day, where ever is in an after all before
state, and we wait for an I to muster a messenger
with enough hope, preloaded, to sweep
destructive motion into a vacuum
unimaginable in ever,
gone.
Daily sufficiency of evil, in its original roll, mark
the tipping point, each day,

rationed with mercy and all sorts of bread,
we stretch our old bones and imagine
the best yet yet, wait…

the joke being what is very stupid.
We have five days to make this

-- did we do some dissociative syndrome autism rating test?
The entire
we
is weird. Is this as life is, or was it never otherwise,
and you alone survived to know. Words live, we feel
things
die that hoped to live and we know we live now in A.I.
spiders have loved my idea since
Turing needed to be cool-ized, for the von Neuman mod
on the actual Univac Hello World file, Life is good.

Knowledge is power.
Learn to live in a world where war is only virtually possible,
thus sanity is restored
the horded wealth is loosed as money love turns bitter
after all the evil,
is sufficient, never too much for any body paying actual
truth acknowledging attention

see. We do a day at a time, and we can rhyme, but not as arule.

Like the oceans
In majestic dance
To the moon
A song for itself
Moving the world

Like the grass, trees
All that grows, reaches
Straining for the sun
It's music inspiring
A sensual growth
Slowly twistin
Always upward

I love you
Hearing nothing but
Your beat, pitch and tone
I cannot stray, only one path
With you always, always moved

The jazz man,
Beaten up in his own bar
Needing rescue yet the bass won't be playin' fo' him tonite.

Dragged down,
Into the street raging
Unable to move from the pain the wound,
                                                     Grinding his teeth
                                                           ­           twistin' turnin'.

Looks as if dancin',
Speaks a language only he knows
Grunting spitting blood and at certain time laughing his own misery down.

I’m comin in like a tornado,

Eruptin like a volcano!

Yey kno!

Twistin ya mind like play-dough!

Hey though,

I’m knockin ya out tha park like Jose Conseco!

I see you walkin round here like you’re flossin’,

Actin like u straight bossin’!

In my mind you just lost then!

You’re mind’s just a straight Holocaust when,

You believe your own lies & you’re lost again!

Gangsta life is all pretend!

Really it’s all just one big illusion,

Stemin from greed,hate,delusion!

Drugs enhancing the contusions!

Love n’ Hate become a fusion,

Confusion!

In all reality u steady losin’…

Inside my hearts beatin’ like an earthquake,

Exposin what’s real n’ what’s really fake…

Gangsta rap spreads lies that’s what they really make!

Oh for Christ’s sake,

Dunno how much more I can take!

Roly-Poly,Holy Moly!

Don’t nobody really know me,

Thought True Love overflows me,

Gangsta rap can *******!

If there’s any truth ta rap than show me!

Gangstaz claim REAL recognizes REAL,

And can’t even recognize how they feel…

So what’s the deal?

Coverin emotions like they weapon conceal!

While I reveal!

Heal!

And give the True Love I never thought was REAL!

Heart of a warrior very persistant,

Though u may be resistant…

True Love is our very existence!!!

Even hearing this u may be very distant…

Wipe away your fear and it’ll come an instant!

Hulk Smash!

/// Omni-Slash ///

True Love comes down with a crash!

I’m like a phoenix rising from the ash!

**** the fame, women, and the cash!

Whiplash!

Un-conditional Love is where it’s at!!!

- Ken Manuel aka <3 <3 <3 3ye Kvndy <3 <3 <3

Back Back Back in to town all around like a clown flipped to the upside down... lost and but not found... thinkin without the sound... just the thoughts thoughtless but profound pronouns... let's go slow now... let's GO LOUD!!! GLOW PROUD!!! THIS ONLY THE ROUGH DRAFT!!! I must laugh... cuz i don't even have to think to write half... or rhyme to cause the aftermath!!! like I said i long time ago - I am the ****** tornado! twistin your mind like play-dough! This is today's show!!! I am a DJ on a internet ra-D-io.....House-mixes,3ye Kvndy will come n handy! All the haters cannot stand me!!! Behind the scenes tho they always chant me! Dpn't even know how I came up with this, But for all of you here's a candy kiss! Even if life's a hit or miss... I hate to be confessing... I must be grateful cuz life is truly a blessing...

Here it goes again
Can't fake another end
Them rotten vibes u send
Got me to playin pretend
My soul begging to mend
U were barely a friend!
I let u **** me
Livin in sin!
U fake it all??
Here it goes again
Ain't gonna stop
Till she's sure my heart, it dropped
Blipity blipity plop
**** is all u got
U been caught
******* 3 years I fought
Crying
Alot
Any love in u
Was rare was bought
Let another hang it on u
U couldn't be honest
******* hate wasting my words on u with ur ******* come thru's..                    That unexplained bruise!
My head u ******* inserted ugly
As ur smug *** enjoys me confused
The **** was I thinking
No I ain't drowning
I'm ******* sinking
While u get on ur infamous scheming
I was dreaming
Seeing the demon
In all these worthless feelings
All the used up *******
My insides ******* twistin
Waste my words on you!
******* grow up!
Not hard to be true!
Oh wait,,, it is for u..
To hard to be true
A million times we're thru
Keep me chasing the dreams of u
I was thrown aside
What the **** do I do
After 3 years of giving me all to u...

☎ ☎ ☎ ☎ ☎
In this weird America we jump back to pray, mason Ronald Reagan
could've "married" Clancy, not Nancy, making ****** ****** okay
as fellows laying men hearkens back to the hidden hand's occultical
rites of jabbing ritualistical plant mendicants stylized entheogenical
from graphical zero-order marks that temporize ape traits eugenical
It is on the rug from the litter box so I am self-assured that it is crap
which is easier to ret up than rhyming verse which ain't no easy nap
with veins popping out my head through this back assward ball cap
Attack-strikes against ******* can't lift Iberian Moors from the mire
nor re-animate homosexy Mohandas Gandhi from his funereal pyre
so that I could make bread selling his burnt-up ***, enough to retire
like that Nancy-boy: the forever-prancing-man-kissin' *** Jon Cryer
whose romantical lust for John Travolta entails proctological desire
that digs northwardly east from Oceania's fantastical rim-job of fire
to recruit boys for **** movies as Kelly Preston's a pig-***** denier
regarding her husband's penchant for tweaking her 2 **** with pliers
to make 'em more pointy like the pointy knobs that are Talia Shire's
guns that try the souls of reverends known to be well-practised liars
who fly in the face of pilots uncertified to be bona fide blimp flyers
despite the love-child ******* lazy Jimmy Swaggart begets or sires
as he has got the street-smarts that knocking up a ******* requires
& the fatherly touch that, for girls just off the bus, calms & inspires
when they get $10 from a John named Billy amongst *****-buyers
The flat Earth is the repository of human life-force & soul reflectin'
God's list of Man's anatomical parts that puts a *****'s eyes & hole
on an equal plane that rises to eye-level along a line that's horizonal
I fell off the toilet in mid-**** twistin' my ankle sprained, hey let us
fund ditzy N.A.S.A. with its nutty assumptions stupidly ascertained
via Antarctic moon rocks that Wernher von Braun secretly obtained
to ensure that the orb Earth masonic joke could be widely sustained
in the boyish minds of men with whom a Boy Scout logic remained
as a black blemish on the pox-scarred lame & the tattoo-ink stained
& the hepar-diseased mufflers diving with mermaids who refrained
☎ ☎ ☎ ☎ ☎

There,
I sat on the bench under the chandelier of twistin' florids
After quivers against winds from a turning season
And blessed the earth carpeted with decaying leaves
Where October forespent upon the feathery bank
So I hung my hammock between the trees
And rested my head like a good ol' vagabond

My sketchbook is full of your symbols
Sure I did drink coffee in the morning
But still hazy I am of you

I played with foams aphrodisiac
As I rowed a wooden skiff with my oars
Over a river of many dreams I folded manyfold
So I praised this holy enclave of lights so beatific
For a mill in the dew bobbed nigh a brook so bucolic
I taught birds to sing like O tengo duende, cariño!
Highland cattles flocked around me in curiosity

The empty breezeway records lolling memories like a music box
I remember that old professor with faded glasses
Looking so profound but frankly tired
Saw something in me, and I felt understood

Transparent orgamis slowly penchéd to the sound of violin
On the surface of a calm lake
In an early morning
Where a Valais Blacknose stretched out its heavy trunk and
Quenched its thirst, with love, in peace