or the alternative precursor to the spice girls
(yes, i did buy their debut -
      baby spice, well, my infantile
fetish with cute, clean cut blondes, meh,
old story)
                 but **** on me, President Reagan
was a former actor -
     i have no personal interests in the debate,
well: i like to see real life Hollywood,
i like films, from time to time...
    20th century moustaches are these days
relegated to hairstyles....
  you know why we don ****** hair?
the ***** are pruned and trimmed
for a ***** movie: we like to fiddle with it,
esp. the hair crop on the chin,
     i could become a violinist with it.
what spurred me on? Marvin Gayes heard it through
the grapevine, or as i say:
  down the **** gold, auburn, amber, beer,
whiskey, **** me! a correlation!
or a categorical imperative some would say:
             heard it down the wheat shaft
in between men having their prided little Richards
cut off - fun ******* fun -
         that's me and washing my hands
writing poetry in advance to my body language
transformed starting to style myself
on the baguettes hit from the 80s:
dance like a pigeon, nod pigeon in a walk,
the guy that was so jealous of me
is now a manic depressive -
       and i'm like: so what? jog on!
                      i was stupid for 10 seconds of my life,
better write out bail...
                        they should call it
the s.d.i.             (sniffer dog investigation) -
it doesn't look even remotely disastrous,
     only with that Antoinette quiff and a moustache,
      oh we loved the pern wigs
before the bowlers and top hats...
          it's as if the Victorian era was an era
for mourning the death of God, truly.
all the little revolution stemming from the death
of someone ending a bio at 1900 didn't matter...
    he was philosophising at a funeral...
i'm just watching the vehement application
of Vatican non-curriculum activity stemming from
archeology started off in Egypt under the
title: St. Thomas' account the doubter / the philosopher
gaining ground in all things trans-,
                a return by "popular" demand,
first the authentic Christianity of the gospels
and now infuriated Islam and the unauthentic application
of the recovered gospels -
   can you imagine there being a brokering
       gamble on literacy back then, would the priests
have made fishermen literate back when it
was stated: keep them wholly physically intact,
let's not interfere with their physical prowess,
we need their physical strength, undermine their
physical strength with being able to read: and we're ******!
   a fisherman wrote that gospel?
                     (insert snigger) -
        only in the 20th century could the benefits
of education a son of a roofer / metallurgy agent go
down sour... first they said they wanted me to
come upon the plateau of what education is about:
the just dispensation of wealth,
   but then they heard about my background and
simply said: nah, that ****** can clean the dishes...
the worst part?
      i would have agreeably been a street-cleaner:
but not after having invested in education!
      that's a ****** insult!
                so here's me,
high as a kite on *****, listening to poets talk
about depression for a while thinking:
    where's the wheelchair?
                             and when i'm through
i tune in, listen to Marvin Gaye and start dancing
like a pigeon strutting:
           guillotine horizontal chopping the air up,
        twerk a bit in the bathroom
and feel Chappy Jolly -
                   i'd stick a thumb up my *** if i wanted
to as reversal of the *******
                                being accusatory -
don't educated me and steal from those who don't
want to be with their common sense education
                and give me absolutely nothing
chemistry related to do it...
        i'll just start writing and turn the heat up on
being a hermit...
                              becoming educated is a monstrous
delusion that the priestly caste of society dish out
             once they dished out literacy,
              but once literacy has become exhausted
they dish out education in the broader sense.
i was walking back from the supermarket today,
and picked up a pound coin from the pavement
(thanks Sinatra, that'll pay the rent)
    and started fiddling with it in my hand:
some people have lucky charms, emeralds and
what not in necklaces and other memento forms,
i started fiddling with this found pound coin,
  Whether's Original colouring - not quiet copper,
indeed more like solidified bleached out caramel,
when i walked with my hands partially clenched
like a gorilla's and balanced the coin
on the *******'s phalange -
        and suddenly i was holding a philosopher's stone...
        it all became visceral - clear, poignant,
this little thing can transform anything from
        copper into gold -
   from iron into gold...
               where the alchemist sleeping when
they were passing this stuff about, including
the blimmin' cobblers?
                       it can also include asking
the magpies to fly in and say: not all that glitters
is gold... where are the silver spoons?
              oh for sure, the eagle as emblem / mascot of the state
  is doomed, take the Third ***** and the Roman Empire...
             no one ever bothered the sparrow to be engulfed
in replica on standards of a marching enemy...
    the crow seems pretty safe too, funny
            the eagle is a crushing curse of failed predatory
alliances when embedded in metal for man
   to strut toward a harrowing end.

I’ve peace at unbalance,
It’s lightly cocked to the left
It’s as good as it might get
To be centered is unnatural
It’s unauthentic

My stomach can hardly bear it
I’m slightly jealous
Just so my heart can hurt
A little bit

I’m handsome in a ugly way
I’ve got a lazy eye
and a beard that quite won't fill

It took awhile to learn how to tie my shoe.
It's fine, I like laughing, poetry too
I'd like to think so
Almost good

I'm not trying to be unauthentic, im just trying to stay...cool
rhymes with meaning are sweet like cherries, chocolate, whipping, and ******* gurl!
I love when I make u smile, the wordless cool goes with the flow
good vibrations and time is patient, it's cool so just go with the flow
I'm loving mother nature, and i just sipped fine berry wine
don't **** my vibe and let me rhyme, time after time be mystified
Let me guide u on this journey, let us not rush
Because
Because, u and I we're in no hurry
and what we got is time, time, time

Original thought is not knocking at my door. It seems there's very little original thought at all any more.

Put my brain back in storage up on the musty shelf. Seems everything I believe in is learned from someone else.

I just simply repeat back the things I've  been taught. Year after year repeating thought after thought.

A collection of opinions, words of others that I spout. Seems the easy way, so I open my mouth and they fall out.

The politicians and teachers and experts and the news. Have radically systematically denied my freedom to choose.

Unwitting copycat and imitator who historically repeats himself.  Without a genuine idea, put my brain back on the shelf.

Has everything I've learned and believe and everything I  know, produced an unauthentic me, God help me if it's so.

A wealth of original ideas, that would be my kind of wealth. If not take what I've  got and put my brain back on the shelf.

The search for meaning leaves me uneasy
History is fabricated,rewritten,unauthentic
In the eye of the sky and it's timeless nature
We are stardust exploding into a void
Destroyed and insignificant
Like tiny working ants purely genius and intricate
but far too small to appreciate
On this grand scale I inhale deeply
to capture a moment to hold it
and with one reflex the moment is lost
Vanishing into thin air
Invisible even in it's birth
So what is the meaning?
Why can I capture the world in my spectacles?
What if I draw down the blinds or cure cancer?
So what I might add to the former and latter
I am simply a jungle gym
A step on a latter for children to climb on
It goes on and on until death dawns
Inevitably killing the human song

People often seem to enjoy
living in
delusion.

Deep in their souls,
they know they live
unauthentic lives.

Yet
following society's rules seems
easier,
more imperative,
than following their own hearts.

How many people out there are genuinely happy?

How many detest their existence,
like I did
Wishing they were
strong enough
to follow their feelings

instead of following the flock?

strict obligations to mind technique -
a range of techniques to identify
a paced scribble done haphazardly
for the effect of unquestionable timing
as time itself question, settled
for lazy afternoons and volumes upon
volumes - well, the bore of schoolchildren
being taught the standard of communication
as grammar in all its guises and adding to
this the identifiers of poetics, shackle
them in metaphor conscious expression
and they'll excessively rhyme -
e.g. yeah mm, yeah, birches of the brood,
mm, yeah, wave to the navigator
and limousine driver, mm, yeah,
mm, yeah, ******* in the alley, poetry
the ultimate straitjacket of language
use, so many constraints, mm, yeah,
******* of rodeo doing disco with a hand
spare waiting for prompt of the **** salute -
mm, yeah, pottery and poetry are moulded
although pottery with the hands as one,
poetry by exchanging patterns of a tennis
statistics of serve depending on what's
more accessible via the index through to the thumb;
mm, yeah, birches in the hoodlum choir -
knuckle dusters and nail clippings among
broken skulls - already the constraints of grammar
we all yawned at, then came poetics
and the second tsunami of disgruntling -
father grammar, son poetry, the holy ghost
a multiplier of yawns among gradations from
a* through to f - like a musical scale -
now i realise i joined the abhorrent crowd of
artistic expression, i never knew could be so
**** unauthentic, maybe the missing orchestration,
the prophetic voice in the wilderness -
the lack of materialistic concern for bees' wax
to accumulate for envious purposes -
a hole with chlorine-cleansing chemicals
that's neither salt or sweet water and no wish -
a massive bathtub and a different form of ******* -
i know teaching grammar is like teaching poetry,
too many rules, too many rubrics, lists and lists
of things happening but not actually happening -
the faking of poetry on account of identifiers
as marked accessibility and respectability -
but never the essential coarse experience -
so some forgive the excruciating test of grammar -
they say 'if comprehensive therefore satiated' -
but then the anti-poetry with an army of instruments
uses only rhyme to akin itself as to why
B. Dylan's lyrics were debated in poetic circles -
i really did choose the wrong art -
or perhaps i'm only saying that because i can
create quarters for four agile limbs to comprehend -
let's say one celebrity had photo-sensitive
epilepsy - the stability of scarce lightning
against the lunar and solar cycles - but then
overexposed to a syringe of phosphorescent luminary
injections of insomnia -
the modern ailment summarised by insomnia
in all the totals asserted - the fear of death
entombed, now the fear of not ably falling asleep
or the fear of not sleeping at all;
indeed a heresy some might say -
but in Dante's theology i find purgatory as
a courtroom - the judgement necessarily passed -
depending on what duality you are a disciple of(: / i.e.)
hell (your own company)
                                             x
                                               heaven (the company of others)
or
    hell (the company of others)
                                                      x
 ­                                                        heaven
                                                          ­  (your own company);
indeed no chiral assertions,
                since both add up to a pitch-perfect coordinate
                with parallelism's coordination of (+,+);
                 neither subtracts the other's accumulation,
                perhaps in the interchange
                (+, x), (-, +), (-, x), (+, ÷) -
                after all there can be worded expressions
                of utilising pure mathematical
                symbols to understand political
                dynamism -
e.g. (by adding you multiply the chance)
        (by taking away you add to an understanding)
        (by taking away you multiply the chances
         of non-recurrence or recurrence)
         (by adding you end up dividing
          the chances of expressing the Σ);
all in all, a chaotic foundation approves to architectural
order tumbling down into prone attempts for
new truths stabilised by vogue of the times
and later dismembered and disavowed from practice
and admiration.

And the pictures that are strung up
across your bedroom wall
house nothing more than vacant feelings now.
He can no longer bring himself
to check up on you because
if he can't have you
exactly the way he wants,
then he doesn't want you at all.

He'll cope with his hurt
by occasionally offering unauthentic hello's
and cancelled plans because that's all
he has control over.
Once again,
you are left repeating the line,
"I'm sorry I hurt you,
but I am happy now."
And he'll pretend he's happy, too.

-k.w//because i don't feel the same

I know that people were created to live together in Love and harmony
Regardless of their skin colour, beliefs or ****** orientation
But do they? Do we?
Somewhere the master plan was interrupted and a lie was born
I believe in a power called Love
Love is light and light is God
Which I believe is the highest source of energy
But people will always have their difference of opinion
I also recognize that there is a lot that we don’t know
And things are not always the way they seem
Don’t believe everything you’ve been told or taught
Even teachers were taught at some point in time
And if the wrong things were taught to the teachers to teach
Then the system is unauthentic
People will try to convince each other of who is right
So they create a war and **** as many innocent people as possible
And they call this a victory
I believe that when we transition from this world to the next level
We will come into full knowledge which will result in Love
The same way that complete Love results in complete knowledge
The transformation of moving from the flesh to the spirit
Means moving from the darkness to the light
Moving from a condition where there was once a lack of knowledge
To a circumstance of full knowledge
Then we will know LOVE

The sky is so bland in the cities.
To be fair,
people in cities don't look at the stars;
they pace around, drink fancy teas and coffees and settle.
To soft melodies last night,
as I swayed on the terrace watching meteors fall,
I felt a little stupid.
How dare I ―
ordinary mess, chubby thighs, arms and toes, drinking cheap tea and wine, indecisive, unauthentic woman,
dance in the middle of the night, on a terrace as if,
the protagonist in a romantic, indie film?
Protagonists don't look like this or think like this.
Protagonists live in cities,
wander, drink fancy teas and coffees, look for love
and find it
behind strands of hair pushed behind a ear, dainty ankles dangling from chairs at cafés, artiste, running at the beach
or whatever they may have romanticized.
The lights and their eyes
are sparkly and dreamy,
here in the cities.
Yet,
the sky is bland
and they don't look at the stars.

It was feeling dark
and a lot like Eleanor Rigby.

The **** days were  getting progressively more ****
with each passing **** day, like a late stage cancer that could have been painlessly avoided had it been cut out early.
Now it was just too late.


The ***** fan had been blowing four days straight
the vacuum cleaner had broken when she tried to clean
her apartment two days ago, it was just hopeless
the carpet infuriated her and made her give up.

Giving up was a determination far beyond want.

The weather was so hot, so hot it justified its place as a conversation starter, even for those who hated small talk
and unauthentic conversation meant to lead only to short term gains that turned to ****, much like all the pervasive politics and tech startups on the west coast.

She walked to the chinese owned convenience store just last night.
The friendly check out girl was talking to the guy in line ahead of her about the temperature, so hot that it truly proved global warming was real, they said as they scoffed at those who didn't think global warming was a thing.

She was so disgusted after her cigarettes and canned alcoholic beverages were rang up, she was disgusted with the cigarettes and for supporting a chinese owned business whose entitled owners treated their friendly employees like ****, inferior ****.

She was disgusted as she remembered the just as hot days of her childhood,
and the total usualness of consecutive days of 100+ degrees fahrenheit every few years or so.

-Teachers?
They don't care for us
it is stupid for us to believe that
We are important to them
They don't want us to learn
we are too dumb to believe that
teaching is their passion
They are just there to earn
It is not true that
They understand us
We are just brainless beings for them
It is not believable that
they want us to be successful
They love watching us suffer
it is unauthentic that
they are helping us build our future
They don't want us to have good grades
it is just a bogus claim that
they are giving their best
They don't love us
stop telling that
They are the catalyst for change
- Teachers?

-poetistician

Introvert with shady mind...
Border unauthentic...
Cosmic realm on dumb
Intelligence.. on from
Oh I forgot its not hannaukah or Christmas...
Mortal bones
In corpse of sort of broken
Spoken from a former resting

I invest on neck pillows... fly the coop
But I walk on egg shells
I
Unless this bird is nesting....

Similar existence to a home of gifted
Weapon fam...
I detonate a sentence... and the alphabet becomes a weapon man....

Syllables on corrupt but I'm about to faulter...
Illicit vision... simple decision
I'm alone at fathers alter...
And none nut Sargeant omy god
Can save the onslaught martyr....

Bout to break these legs like records
Set in fitness
Fitness whole **** in my stomach
Can I get a witness

{...}
Fire almost burned away
sizzling
every stench by now every quivering unauthentic vow of love
every trick played on you
for the sake of
surviving

But you'll come out soon
and you'll reek
of smoke and you will choke a bit
on your own courage
But Baby, it'll nourish this
entire world

Nobody fake it you
will make it through the flames