I could tell you,
But you’d laugh at me.
Because it is bare, raw and pure.
You gloat on the preservatives.
You discard the genuine.
Listen to me, my friend, there is a part of the world, where even a bulb is never, ever, witnessed in real, but reel of the sanskrit Cartoon slots. The peppy  and ‘lone B-grade Cartoons .
Filled with Flesh.
The stories of tantric mantras, with a sliver of diminishing hearth,
on the
Dimensions and depth of the Yoni in the resin of shellac
on the Immaculate ceremony,
In a woodpecker hole just underneath the sealed power of the Yakshini who truly screws it up if you have taste of her once.
the one who harbingers drunk loners of Kavadiyattom alley after 3:20 am.
She takes them to the crown chakra of palm trees.
Shows them the world.
she pushes them off the crown and the falcon falls in endless spirals of a inhuman push that pushes the concrete innards to a danlgling mass of amoebic copulation.
Breath comes back.
It is a big nauseating gag of Kumbhakarnan's long sadya that lasted for half a decade.
Of the soma saras that made the entire India go, ga-ga and believe they've seen the god.
But not one nor any saw the same face, colour, shape or even vibe of the god they had seen alone.
They agreed in unison that all their hallucinations of beautiful humans in Flower UFO s and high-tech cloning, were a vital hair in the nostril of the cosmos.
They made, each a god out of their genuine mix of memories.
Or in the, priest's ways,
Hence, the 2.3 Billion populous of the country had the same, well, odd Spiritual benefactors.

Keeping it all aside, lemme be honest, I'd follow many a fairy god-mother but give my milkey teeny tooth to the special one.
Hinduism tells you God is omnipresent.
Hinduism tells you God is within you.
It also says, there is no God.
The clipper to snap off the confusion of this, lies in the same cheap stained-yellow cliche of love. It entails everything. You, me, animals, plants, cosmos, vibes, thoughts, dreams and the universe.
It tells you to live with your body mind and soul.
From Kamasutras that teaches sense.
The excitement, control and breakthrough of it.
Like tao did under his exposed roof without the sacred dung of from Hindu Land.
This is the secret of a rumoured Mohini,
Of her 1000 per hour ******* during the her/ his/ its 352 incarnations.
which was the reason for Big bang.  
Amidst the sultry scant of the voluptuous *******,
Their skin,
a vernacular reflection of a dusk on the Japanese gold beaches, And the mounts,
firm and glowing with the rusty shade of pharaoh’s Gold anklet.
The gooey glaze of yesterday’s glamour in the wink of a gay galore.
Paulo Ceolho’s Holy Communion with God,
Or like the Japanese Tengaman says,
Or rather screams,
That all it it takes is a little *******.
So, yes.
That precise art of attaining a consciousness, from where your mind was
Afloat
Wild
Free
Satiated
By yourself
You’ve just consumed the essence of you
Your Ojhas
And the tiny matter that teaches the universe
Of a Shunya.
That, momentary sense of lapse of your body mass,
Or the breakthrough into your eye of the crown.
Only to join the mundane bustle of the 10,00 speakers on all four
JBLs, Boses and Pioneers live looping the zillions of sanskrit mantras under one roof.
In your Ear drum.
A synechdoche of the Gods and their jacuzzi of amphetamine bubbles.
Splashed from a white Elephant's bejewelled Snout, which has the
crowned ring in your pineals.
Secret lies under
the rotten bone chip of Hussain Sagar
deep under the ***** green lake,  
drowning the rainbow Buddha in the city of slimy immortal maggots on ham.
Open your eyes.
For the Gods will
Else
Cut your eyelids off
to show you that
the city's shardminds await you.
roaring
Playing close to the fire demons of Redland
A nail close to your wide open lid-less
White flowing eye.
Hear the city scream.
The deafening chaos,
In unison,
Intoxicating their venomous fruits
of the delirious worlds
Or simply put, divine prayer and offering
for
the Omnipotent,
Omniscient
And the
Om.
Shunya.
Or the cyclic abyss of meaninglessness.
But,
Like, the wilted azures
that seduced those flies,
From a far far away,
To come the praise the combs of their bellies,
Filled with the red from the omnipotent, dead, weak and evil
In one little fly belly.
They came from the
land called Lullaby.
To go there
from here,
But, first,
bear the Weasleys' infamous extendable ears and heed me now, for I say twice and See him Come.
The snake, the tangy smell of goated black rub and blueness.
Siva shouldn't come?
Not yet. A little DMT more in the brain and perhaps the spark will happen.
Better than the potions of those gigantic forest priests.
No, Heed me, now.

3 Dodos Walk-afar,
And, take the lone left-laden log
the one that is,
limitless Long
loyal and  let alone
By those
languors which
Killed
Lord Leopard Loot'.
While,
Lord's Lass
Lays lolled lambs,
Lolled ‘long le ******,
Leech on the laiden log,
leading to Lord Lava,
Yes.
The bridge of Casilii Po.

Of the Lord.
Guarded
By these bubbling bellies with a drop of the world's make.
Assassins.
the Fly, flies.

retain the scarification of theolden curse,
Older than the rocks underneath this gurgling lava,
On which reincarnation steams.

As destiny should have it,
the astrologers had seen,
3 centuries back
That at a Sphinx’s Wedding,
a war of Vision,
will break.
It will
Bring the Stars
Out of those melting blue nightsky of Neruda's wails;
And the diabolic estrangement inflicting Eagle,
From Meena’s vibes,
that rubbed of a distinct scent of Malabar embedding a little of everybody in the village,
on its Kasavu lines posing
at the focus
of Sahib's Ferguson or Baker.

The gold turned white.
A liquid white, like that of the sap,
For that,
***** on a parrot green rubber plant
And work your fun with the white gluey milk,
fragrant than the sap
Like the  Ylang Ylang buds freshly kissed by the drooly dew,
sealed away
elegantly in a crystal Indigo bottle by the pen stand.

One that glitters if you look at its surface, but smells of naphthalene ***** in the sink
in
that
creepy trailer in
mid salem night of the tut.
Colourful.
This is colorblind.

White is motile.
White is wriggling.
White is life.
With a **** of Eve’s fabric-less
Skin.
White is divinity
feeding you excess of everything,
With an tenfold over dosage injected intravenous, by a silver-haired-glow-in-the-dark-dodo-cupid;

She is divine.
**** Her.
**** her on a Pyre.
**** her innards on a fire.
inflame the bubble
of her her oily effluent you found on the toilet seat
Instil in her, the seed of your sodomic occult,
Not by compassion, but through a hiss and sting
of the
flawless venom of the diabolic.  
Then. Disinfect your fruit that you flicked off the paradise.
And bellow to the blowing gurgling below.  
A reign of ****  nihilism,
moaning the mood-swings-of-a-98-year-old-menopausing-Bhairavi of the Indian Aghora Tales;
And Shelly, fueled in his undiminished hearth with the help of his impetous West Wind,
dreaming lucid,
on a flight in the sky for one week,
with Lucy’s sewing  sequined buttocks,
Stinging their luminescent, lactating, lustrous skin,
Like a tatto machine, lifting rays into the epidermis
So that it roasts, burns a soot and neonifies the only colour
A shade of
The rave, rainbow-red karmas of human existence,
Its little greedy quantas waltzing around the matter
And of its unleashed illuminations
That fuel the same vessel in the universe,
infamously known as,
the
black hole.
Uggh!!

allowing for a two part volume
of Proust's À la recherche du temps perdu...
is unforgiving... it's asking a meat-head
to read such a body like exploring a woman's...
a gay-man's psyche is pretty much a woman...
or what a woman thinks in secret,
gay men merely vocalise what a woman does
not say... and yes, that a with a diacritical
mark... that grave above the a? the à?
it works like a comma... à! a surprise kindred
an eureka that's not really original,
an: ah! and then you say the rest of the title...
iconic pause: in search of lost time...
          it took me about five minutes to figure
that one out... lost time, but occupied a space...
  and so much political vanity is consecrated
upon the reverse.. ineffective space:
thus gained time... for all that protests are worth.

i know i go on about this a lot, surprise surprise,
i'm actually engaging in systematisation...
once you enjoy writing as much as walking
you get to reach a systematisation,
     it's a painful process, i'd never do the editing process
of a Hemingway... write something: shoot some
camels and reindeer and go back and revise a piece
of writing: drink a *death in the afternoon -
a shot of absinthe inside a champagne glug
or the modern: shot of Jägermeister inside a glass
of red bull... (yay-gay-mr.) -
                       or how do you make snakebite?
half a láger half a çíder - and a head of blackcurrant
squash... scoot meine good look.
  but diacritical marks are what punctuation marks
are... it's only that they've become elevated,
and unlike punctuation marks governing paragraphs
and sentences... they govern the words,
         they are syllable incision indicators...
  i mean: i don't revise something i've already written,
unless it's a spelling mistake... i just write
something new... it's sadistic in my mind's eye to
revise and revise a single effort of writing...
                i'd rather centralise a theme of the paradox
of re-, in the year 2018 i will still experience
the tetratempus - containing four seasons -
         and i will never return toward making a piece
of writing become a morbidly corrected statue...
     what's done is done, let us move toward another
circumstance of being able to acquire a new kind
of observation... i can't be a sadist in terms of also
being a perfectionist... i break a leg, i break a leg...
if i write a ****** poem, i'll write a ****** poem...
but i won't be bothered like human history has been
by preoccupying itself in forwarding the drama
on Golgotha Street...
    the newest addition to the vogue scene is a corset
paired with a waistcoat...
   the snooker championships are taking place,
and i says to my father: 'a bit like chess, ain't it?'
   'sure is', he replies, 'you have to think 3 moves ahead.'
and it is... a smart sport, actually the most intelligent
sport there is... ****** boring obviously,
unless you fake the boredom and think about angles
and triangles and Newton...
   and cover the game with such congestions of
pretending to hallucinate it all...
                or take to thinking about rebellious
Saturn spinning out of orbit and doing a Mike Tyson
to Jupiter...
          but it's very much like chess...
                   it's sporty chess... snooker is chess...
  and it definitely ain't pool...
         you could actually have a ******* on a snooker table...
while either doggy or missionary positioning on
the snooker table... so what are the odds?!
         but i'll tell you one thing... snooker beats golf...
i don't know why... but once colour televisions came into
existence: it made much more sense for both
spectator and commentator... and how dare you
not cling to the 20th century if you were born in it
to translate to the 21st androids how we experienced
an evolution of technology, that made much more sense
after what i just heard...
      so there's this woman in the U.S., and this is before
president-elect and whatnot...
  and she's 22, and it's all over vice news,
and she's scared, and she's a mother of a 1 year old...
    and then this picture emerges
(don't worry, it's not anything like playing the Sims
   and moving your Sim to play computer games
and seeing a wormhole, or the infinity mirror effect)...
and there's a scene when she's talking Donald Duck
to the child... there are no meaningful words being
said... merely sounds... onomatopoeias...
and yes... this makes perfectly good sense when
stressed as a cut-off capsule...
because Darwinism doesn't really provide much
history... Darwinism is a historical erasure:
the past 2000 years could have happened,
but not really...
  but it just fascinated me...
         when did we learn or who did we learn it from
given we were placed at so many different
plots of the globe and became convergent -
anyway - the woman is teaching the child
words via the onomatopoeia of a hoarse quacking
of a duck! i probably will not find an answer
(primarily because i'm not supposed to,
if i am to perpetuate what Aristotle taught, i.e.:
be wrong and continually circumstance being in awe,
given the mundanity that nonetheless
everything keeps repeating itself over and over again,
for sustenance, and you are not sustenance bound
as corrected by your language deficiency to
ever merge into an unconsciously organised module
that might also argue an ego) -
    but i wonder how difficult it must have been
to extract something beyond the minimalism of animals
that identifies a duck with a quack, a cow with a moo,
an serpent with a sss... a cat with a meow, a dog with a bark...
    i cannot conceive how difficult this explanation
will be... but given the timeframe, i'm more awe-stricken
by this than merely being awe-bound by the time-scale...
which becomes the least affordable option of being
struck by awe, because one becomes merely awe-bound
by it, and therefore apathetic towards such a time-scale.
       how did we suddenly extract an understanding
of an onomatopoeia to distinguish our own ontological
basis for making a sound by infusing a sound that
doesn't resemble us? when did the first ape bark like
a dog? but then again, looking at the canvas already
apparent to us... what was the point of such an adventure?
hippy culture says: monkey accidently ate a mushroom,
monkey suddenly was blown away and reasoned of
a higher purpose other than a tree and a coconut...
     mudvayne quotes the guy on l.d. 50...
what's the guys name... uggh! not Timothy Leary...
ah ****! Terence McKenna! that's it!
        am i high? nope... my respectability of argument
comes from the mystical properties of... whiskey.
hmm...      that rarely happens to people.
                   it's what's called being earthbound, or gravity
prone... sink like a skipping pebble across the lake...
          and like a tonne of lard.
             tomorrow i'll wake once more and still
think about how we encouraged the discovery of
onomatopoeia to teach our children the multiplicity of
sounds, and later deconstruct such a multiplicity to
create meaningful words that go beyond knock knock! jokes
and grunts and barking...
                     but i will never know the man who
created the fermentation process from potatoes to make
*****...
                or the guy who brewed the first pint...
or the guy that smoked the first marijuana bush ensemble
while clearing the land for a place to harvest wheat...
   all the fame that exists is simply scholastic...
  schoolboy fame... which is why so much attention
goes into becoming famous in school...
                        but still that woman teaching her child how
to speak by going down into the blobby-gurgling
  tongue of the toddler, stiffening it,
      and tightening the **** and bladder too...
  by talking Donald Duck to it...
                        i probably could have had a family myself...
but can you imagine someone writing this load of
******* and having a family? there wouldn't be any time!
           still (god, what a need to repeat!)
         how did we progress from saying ape-****?
surely if we started to imitate other animals they'd join us
in our need to usurp those ******* lions!
  lo and behold... we managed to pet dogs (so they were
in on it all along)... and cats (who came from Japan,
if **** sapiens came from Africa... cats came from Japan...
bonsai frocked and all) -
                            but you have to admit...
from what is written history, to what is history and
a gap in history going back to a similitude of form -
      you can write as much historical fiction as you want...
    and you'll never have to write a bestseller about
some centurion in the Roman Empire...
   or a quo vadis by Sienkiewicz (nobel prize winner)
for the depiction of emperor Nero...
                               ******* Sesame St. giggles...
still, the question beckons... if animals can behave in
an ultra-intuitive way as if fashioned by a telepathy...
then telepathy can only exist upon a very simple,
atomic, terse vocalisation of an identity...
   a dog barks... a man can bark too...
                                but we have completely lost our
intuitive talent (if it can be called that)...
          to have sacrificed intuition is to have created
cults or counter-intuitive hierarchies...
  so a 1000 blah blahs later i still prefer to write what
i like... than write what people "might" understand
and talk to a girl about...
                                     a bit like a woman discovering
you faked writing a poem 20 years into a marriage...
                  obviously the setbacks to boot...
                            dyslexia is an optical dimension...
no one dyslexic says a word they don't understand
a meaning of... dyslexia seemingly came from
finally having enshrined the "secret" to the monopoly
of writing sounds...
                          nonetheless... at the end of the day...
it's just too much history... there's too much of it...
            there was never going to be a world
where carpe diem ruled it...
                               it was a question how we clung to
certain things, within a framework of
                                             salmon dye omni:
sure sure... piglet pink and innocent for the rest
of our lives... once Darwinism pointed at the ape,
and once physicists dropped the bomb and the bang...
no day has had any significance at all...
   + the 24h news channels...           snuggle up to a hog
             and say: fog over Heathrow... all flights are grounded.

Early Morning Thought's Haunt Agian,
How Are You Feeling,
1-10
A Little Bit Sick,
****,
There's No Medicine,
Nor Cure,
Fears Lethal,
Injecting Placebo Needles,
In Inncoent People,
All Authority & Other Men,
I Thought We Were Equal,
Trust Is An Illusion,
Goverment Loves Evil,
They Real Bad With The Flag,
Grabbin That Egeal,
Enough Is What I've Had,
Were Not Trash,
Stop Back Stabbin The People,
Honestly We Don't Wanna Be,
Mondern Way Slaves
Souls Precious So Smegal,,
These Days Display Slaughtering Sequals,
Sippin From The Tip Of The Last Cup,
Where Did My Tea Go,
Won't Mask Up,
No Disquise ,
Meet My Eyes,
When It's Time To Fly,
Remember The Stare ,
Tremmbling Glare,
Intriging Guy,
Are You Feeling Okay,
No, I Thought So,
Let Me Know , Why,
Were Similar A Alike,
We Wanna Feel Okay,
Secure , Safe,
Make It Threw The Night,
I've Been In The Dark So Long
House Lights Aint Bright,
Dim From The Grim,
Face Shakes ,
Hey My Chin,
Skin Ripping Like My Shins In Condition ,
Cold Winds,
Myster Told,
I've Been Alone , Aching Bones,
Blistering Blizzard Snow,
Lets Take A Flight Tonight To Rome,
After My Show,
Just To Show Our Pretty Eyes,
What's Possible,
Plottin On Forgottin Fuel,
Ew Obsticales, Lot's Of Those,
The Way I Spit Real ****,
Gets Me Lots of Hoes,
I Don't Attend To Their Hunger Needs,
They Don't Give Affection,
They Beg For Things,
I'm Making Cheese,
My Own Kind,
Spazzing All The Time,
Cracked My Spine,
If Acid In Your Back Is A Myth,
Then Why When It Pops,
I'm Lost High As ****,
3rd Eye Pirate Fist,
Twitch Iron Fish,
My Life Is Twister In Winter Midst,
Tree's That Breathe Release Of Sin,
Chosen One 3rd Son,
13 Candles Lit,
Black Robes,
Back Rodes,
Phantom Sits,
That Rope,
666 Notes,
333 Oaths,
A Cat, Candle Black,
Blood Bath & A Ghost,
Letter Inside A Sweater ,
Mr. Cap Crow,
Train Tracks Split,
Deep ****,
Holding On To This
All I Hear Is Hiss,
I Wanna Get Lost In Zen ,
But Cant Sit For 10 Mins,
HyperAware,
Sniperlike Stare,
No Money , You Hungry , No Problem
I'll Share,
Don't Sleep In The Street,
Heres A Bed With Clean Sheets,
You Can Lay There
I'm Hurt So I Care,
Home Is Somethin I Don't Know,
Where,
Majority Of My Life,
Especially At Night,
I Am There,
Feeling Satan Sensations,
Shaking ,
Hard To Bear,
Empty All Alone,
I Am Scared
Becoming Stone,
All Knowing Tones ,
Ringing Like A Phone,
Intuion Avatar,
Answers In My Bones,
Today I Crawled Out Of My Bed,
Listening To All My Guilt,
That Built Stuilts InSide My Head,
Tought Walking Tall,
I'm Walking Small,
Don't Wanna Walk Again,
Need To Hurry Put This Gun Down,
And Throw These Blades Out,
Hey Now Hold On ,
Somebodys Walking In,
I Hung A Sign Please Knock,
Humans Forgot What They Meant,
I've Been Actiavting With Hatred I Hate It,
I Save And I Cave In,
Immortal Pact,
Time Cant Earase It,
Steady With The Pen,
I Bleed For A Hug My Mother,
uggh I Cant Take It,
I Swallow My Spit, Stand Up , Sit Try To Shake It,
Little Me, Literally Be Sizziling Like Some Backon,
Real Skills Have Taken,
Channelin Awaken,
Time Don't Exist,
Scars On My Wrist Inscist It's Mine For The Taking,
I Spread My Shreaded Wings,
And Reach For A Mystery,
Question For My Creator
List Of Things,
Are You Missing Me Like I Miss My Mom,
Grandma My Life Is Missing Things,
I Need You Both To Hold Me Close,
I Love You, Uggh I Know Yall Know,
Our History Is Pain & Mold,
I'm At Fault
Wont Let It Go,
Forgive My Self,
That's A No,
You Stayed And Prayed ,
Amazed You Both Didn't Let Me Go,
My Mother And Grandma Are Real Angels,
Incredible,
Stings When I Feel The Rush,
Cant Go Back In Time To Redo Things,
I ****** It Up,
Compromising
Darkness Rising,
I Got Real Tales,
That Can Make You Shiver,
Buckle Up, Grab Your Liver,
Hair Sliver,
What I Got Is By The River,
What I Feel And Felt,
Cannot BeA Erased,
I'm A Ghost Living In A Humans Race,
Passing Threw With A Very Netrual Face,
I Don't Wanna Be Alone,
Girl Stay,
Not So I Can Feel Your Love,
Just So You Can Feel The Space,
A Terrifying Void,
I Cant Avoid,
Been Dealing With My Demons,
Since Cleanin My Toys,
Young As Hell Just A Boy,
Everday I'm Ageging Decaying Making Noise,
In The Mirror Trancing Threw My Flesh Feautures,
How Come Death Becomes Our Best Teachers,
Yall Got Friends And ***,
Hot Shots And Bleachers,
I  Got Ghost Rabbies ,
Mold ,
Cold And Reapers ,
Distrught Fist Got Heaters,
I've Pist Off Preachers,
Aliance Giant ,
Invisible Creatures,
Thoughts Prjoecting Vibes,
That Change The Out Side,
Brain Changes With In Single Minute 100 Times,
I'm In It Till Finish,
Then I Diminish ,
My Physical Immage,
4th Dimenision,
Duality
Miracles, Fatailty
Pay Attention,
Darkest Night,
Lightest Day,
Balanced Out Talent Ouch, Legend Ways,
I Cant Be Saved,
I Recieved A Letter From Amaru  ,A Congradulate,
Your Still Going This Long ,
Have Yet To Suffocate,
It Takes Strong One To Reach This Date,
Espically When Your Hungry ,
And Ran Out Of Plates,
Or Food And Passion Fruit,
And Truth To Face,
Thoughts Rain All Day,
When The Sun Turns Black ,
Ill Be Back , To Have Your Back,
Mom, Grandma You Are Heaven,
It's 11 Tip My Hat,
You Gave Me Something Long Enough,
I'm Not Strong Enough To Give It Back, Rough,
Hard To Fathom Or Get That,
I Understand, I Stand Under Where Ever You Sit At,
Ima Demon With Demons,
No Sick Act,
****** Rose,
Thick Pact,
Living Like I'm Blind,
My Mind Likes Living In The Past,
Not Me Though,
Ya See Yo,
I'm Encyrpted Scripted With Evol,
Love From Me Is Urgently,
I Love To Strong For Way To Long,
Emergency ,
Oblibvous Pyro,
I'm Burning Things,
Savage With That Black Magik,
Turing Rings,
Listen To That Sermin Sing,
Not Again,
Heaven Will Not Let Him In,
I've Completely Burned My Wings
Pople Who Are Close To Me Are Pure Loving And Searching Dreams,
I'm The Monster Hurting Non Deservingly,
Purgtory Orders Me,
Accordingly,
Never Ending,
Hell Bending
Immortal Surgery,
I Turn To The Leak In Me,
That Gold Freuquency,
That Tried To Speak & Teach Me Things,
I Went Off On My Own Path,
Made My Own Relgion My Own Craft,
Consuquences Exist I Admit ,
I Own That,
I've Tooken,
This Farther Than A Drone Can,
Spirtual Teachers Cant Believe Thier Eyes
I'm Living Proof
I am Who Is Due To Die,
I See With With Middle Perception,
Human Eyes Do Lie,
I Hold Ages Of Prophecy,
Which Obviously Takes A Life Time,
Really Listen, Peep My Tight rymes,
Cause The Right Line You Can Realte To,
Perhaps Could Save You,
Ive Made You A Life Line,

I'm such a loser
Always stuck in the past.
Ugghh

Uggh
I just want to be done
Being here
It's just no fun
I'd rather be with you
On a tropical beach
The sun shining on you and me
Your hair flowing in the breeze
As we bask under the happy trees
To relieve stress
There's nothing less
I'd want to do except to be with you
Watching the sun set
I made myself a bet
One day soon
You'd be here too
Listening to the waves crashing up on the shore
My heart singing forever more
All to relieve stress

Every moring
Uggh
I don't want to walk up
The sun
Bring me dread
As i force myself to wake up
To face the day at
The crack of dawn
Wont there be relief.