Seven or eight people lounged about in a small back room. I had no expectations before arriving so I’m neither surprised nor disappointed by what I discover.  I find myself sat in one of those reclining gaming chairs and think “This must be the best chair in the room”.

Just playing it cool. I don’t know anyone here. There’re a few guys playing the Xbox. I eye them over, none of them look to challenge my presence, either too engrossed in the screen, or intimidated in some way. To my left sit the women in the place. I have their attention. Relief that the journey here wasn’t in vein, I give them all a nod and a smile. I casually introduce myself, and then find myself playing on the Xbox. I know I can’t play, but that’s the act. I ask what buttons to press, and laugh at my own hopelessness, eventually relinquishing the controller. It soon finds its way back into my hands. By this time, some bird is sat up on the arm next to me. She’s watching my actions, how I take command of the situation. Why don’t I take command of her? Sitting and waiting has never been a good tactic. I pass the controller over to her and say a few words in an attempt to get the conversation rolling. The drink clouds my thoughts and I forget that I’m talking to her. In the distance I hear them remark, “He’s a cool guy.”

I sit, reclined, legs outstretched, coat open revealing buttoned collar, slicked back hair, that look of pure relaxation in ones surroundings. She’s diggin’ it. I know she’s digging it. Her leg starts to press into my arm, and then her hands are down by my side. Commotion in the room. Some fat ***** needs to make her presence known. Everyone chilled. She obviously wants the attention. Not my type. She leaves for an upstairs room, and moments later, a spliff finds its way into my hands, courtesy of the girls to my left. I take a few drags, telling myself not to get too high; too late for that. I pass it on and fall back into the chair. Forgot I hadn’t smoked in a month.

Still a laid back guy, although not sure if it’s a choice anymore. I know it’s taking me over now. Slowly, I find myself entering that zone where weeds been taking me lately. Thoughts of everything; no filter; the need to verbalize things. Suddenly I’m Mr Charismatic, and you are all my audience, whether you like it or not. I stopped caring or stop noticing people’s reactions and forget about myself. I let my ego out to play, unregulated by the discipline of consciousness.

There are people in the room. Pretty sure they weren’t here earlier. One of them says something to me. “Is he been aggressive?” I think to myself. Judging from the tone of my reply, I obviously felt the need to establish my position. Taking no **** from these guys it seems; I’m still the Don in the room. Remember myself, remember the girl. Mr Cool again.

Filling up water in the kitchen, find myself chatting to random guys. Banter flying around the place. She’s watching me. Some powder is under my nose. “Kind of you to offer, but that better not be ket.” Turns out it was Mandy. Can’t say no to a bump. Pretty sure I’m the most ****** in the room right now, but I’m riding it well. Door frame seems like a necessity to keep me upright. Don’t want to brave the assault course back to the recliner, plus, I’m talking to the guys in the kitchen, don’t want to walk away.

We’re meeting J’s bird in thirty minutes. Twenty minutes. Five minutes ago. “We’ll go in five minutes.” She’s there again. Her presence known to me. She's up against me, but time is also against me. Too ****** up to keep playing this game. We’re leaving now. Out the door, I attempt to say a few words as we leave. My eloquence abandons me and leaves me in the ****. Flag a taxi; turns out we’ve booked one. Send him on his way. Tip the driver more than I can afford.

Ultra Violet magnetic field of high voltage adrenaline showers the streets like speeding sports cars.
It's a rare occurrence of unregulated foreign madness.
I felt my inner chambers open and through them I explored my city in a new fashion.
Pulsating skies and electronica vibes.
Golden halos fall all around and the people, all friendly faces, liberated from their steel rooms.
I can hear the cries in the air.
A step closer, a heart willing to beat louder. A flower courageous enough to grow within the industrial tombs of the living dead. A divine light is what is lighting their way out of miserable decay.
- C.Ek

unregulated pigmentation causes race wars
on the streets of a melting ***
the strain of freedom ideologies are too great
for the masses to uphold
children taught hate and bigotry sit in pews
praying to the god of war
the same god that spawned jesus and a burning bush
daughters looked upon as procreation tools
seek to be both fertile and babrie-like
but child-bearing hips are too wide for Cosmo
and skinny ******* only think of themselves
this is the current world
needing babies, but afraid to wear stretch-marks
needing children, teaching toddlers to ****
through video game indoctrination
and mass media persuasion
I sit alone on martin’s mountain
wishing the world knew about skin color as manipulation
sexism and mind control
fluoride and unfiltered water
like hammers and axes to those who would dominate us all
tools of a trade
trading lives
on the new world stock exchange

Tumbler in hand,
Without a stem,
Wine slowly warmed in your palm
The carboxyl-laden liquid gold

Daily medicine,
You prescribe yourself
And send your loving wife to pick up
From a clanking pharmacy

Returns
In lilac paper
A present you unwrap
For yourself.

A beauty,
More so than her
Or the daughter you both raised
You cradled your glass instead of her,
Sick, balding, bloated.

In the bathroom
Crying against the locked door
As you shout
To control, stop now
Her unregulated rate of mitosis
That was done in spite against you.
It’s her fault
That you cant fix it.

Unlike a mitral,
You cannot sow, stitch, or glue her in place,
She won’t stay where you put her,
But like this valve -
A pig.

She remembers nights you don’t,
Her memories your hangover
That you’ve grown resistant to
Like a bacteria.
The MRSA of our family,
Washing our hands of you,
Sterilised with alcohol.

In Ireland we had built a truly independent nation,
standing proud after years of strife and deprivation
But we yearned to join Europe, enticed by her charms,
and she was happy to welcome us, with open arms
Once we used to have pounds, shillings and pence,
when we joined Europe we adopted euros and cents,
We bought in to a single European currency,
and got loads of money, for everything a subsidy

Yes Europe proved to be extraordinarily generous,
the goose that kept laying golden eggs for us
Our government went mental with the money Europe kept sending,
it appeared this generosity was never ending
And our banks joined in with unprecedented lending,
we the people were happy, ah the money we were spending
We threw caution to the wind, it was pure insanity,
we paid ridiculous prices for even the smallest property

Mortgages and loans were given out like sweets,
credit cards with no limit for those occasional treats
Yes the borrowing and spending went on unabated,
sure why wouldn’t it, it was completely unregulated.
There was so much money, loans were so easy to get,
each one of us accumulated a serious amount of debt
Most of us were living way beyond our means,
had we sold our souls for a handful of beans?

Such was our success, other nations did applaud,
we bought new houses and cars and apartments abroad
Credit cards and loans bought so much other stuff,
one could be forgiven for thinking we could never have enough
We changed as a people, became quite materialistic,
we wanted so many things that were beyond realistic
we forgot what was important, which was really quite sad,
judging each other it seemed now by how much each had

trunks filled with junk and the crunk juice flows
flunked out pill popping junkies with no cash go
drunkenly to the shrunken head show
knowing they stunk.
The monks dunked funky mumps victims
on bunk beds and licked them
instead of fixing lunk-headed situations
with linkin-log technologic advances
drinking dogs retrofitted with dance moves
groove on the wooden floor while ****** bore
the Moors with tales of divorce and random *******
on all fours in doorways
during bad plays on the interstate…
demonstrators, unregulated, on roller skates
wait at the gates of the ingrates filled with hate
and throw pie plates with fated accuracy
and the belated bureaucratic picnic
nitwits in knickers knuckle bump
and plump debutants snicker
the wicker croquet mallets
perform ballet in the chalet
and I have to valet the cars –

I sit here again
with a beer and a cigarette
communing with a lost soul
my own?
    someone else's?
I read scripture and the
words dance around me
a thousand flights of fancy
on the page
my incense burning
this pure incense burning
this pure understanding
of the cruel nature
of humanity
of friends, heroes, lovers
I write it all down
try to solve it
it stands before me
a picture of my steps
to this point
I have reached the point
of unabashed unregulated
distorted reality
my daily life
the breathing
the eating
the sleeping
it doesn't seem any more real
than this life I live
in my head
or somewhere in my heart
and I long to touch the
part of me that is real
but I am so disconnected

flowers in the winter still grow towards the sun
and such is my soul
leaning leaning
toward the everlasting source
                                                     reality fails me
and lights go dim
and I cause the moon to glow for a light
somewhere in this dark night
                                                  and I can't stop believing in a God that doesn't exist
                      but which pushes further down this tunnel into the hell
of my eternity
and I can't
find simplicity
can't find purity
it's all convoluted
I hate the game
   shifting pulling
begging for release
and somehow I am
an ember in a fire
bent on burning out
forever
and I have a soul
I have a heart
someone acknowledge me in this newspaper grey world
I am flat lining
where will I go after
this life has sloughed off my skin
I know I am endless
and I am bound for a world
where opinion doesn't taint reason
                            and somehow
                            I will be there
                            where the sky meets space
                            I will be there
                                                   somehow.

This current state of being,
A byproduct of my upbringing,
To a shred of sanity I'm clinging.
I'm condemned, I am ******
It's not like this was planned.

Those pesky chemicals are a torrential rain,
Carried 'round by cerebrospinal fluid in the brain,
Are unbalanced, unregulated. I am agitated.
Emotions now unchained.

The feelings I suppressed
Now a hysterical, pathetic, crying mess
This silent monster is cunning and bold
Has defiantly stepped over my mental threshold
The more I try to ignore
The more intense the outpour

The heart drops into the stomach,
Unpleasant pulsating in my ear canal
I tremble uncontrollably
I obsess over thoughts until they nauseate me

Down a rabbit hole I'm going
Due to insufficient dopamine and serotonin
The ideas of inadequacy and failure are growing

As logical a girl I am
To these irrational thoughts I am ******,
I attempt to talk myself out of it
But my reasoning just won't fit
No matter how hard I try
I cannot find a reason why...

At this point my heart is racing
From the epinephrine rush, I am pacing
Back and forth across the floor
In and out the bedroom door

You have no idea how happy I'd be
To have a life of "normalcy"
No matter how much I plead and plead
This quiet monster won't take its leave
At my wit's end, my sanity's gone,
I'm all out of my Buproprion.

When the economy tanks
Unregulated globalized free market capitalism run amuck
People are told to be thankful to have a job
Even if you are miserable with that job
And with service sector jobs making up 80% of employment
Misery is widespread
Underpaid, undervalued, underappreciated
We are human beings for ***** sake
We are starved for more than selling shoes
If being thankful for misery is the best option
It's time to re-evaluate

one minute the written piece
will be so nicely posted
then in the very next minute
it will be quickly unposted

an indecisive mind works
on the submission page
switching the on and off switch
with an unregulated gauge  

numerous times
this pattern
has occurred to confuse
numerous times
this pattern
frequently does get a use

before offering
any pieces for posting
the submitter needs
to be sure of the hosting

Boy, oh boy
Will boys be boys
And oh boy, that’s gross to say,

I at least get that,
I mean I try to but here’s to trying

Kind of like trying to speak for women
Or anyone that isn’t you,
you should just not do that…

There’s a difference in defense for the good of all
And then, there’s what we were talking about 50 ******* years ago

Oh, excuse me 30 ******* years ago,
Last ******* year…
2 ******* days ago…
OK RIGHT THE **** NOW…

But I really want to go back to 69
Oh, The Summer of love…
Or the summer of forcing a woman to go to court over the ability to receive an abortion only to be decided by a group of old men if she has any rights over her body to receive a safe medical procedure, all while  the media doing no one any favors guiding a blind division nationally between people and God fearing busy bodies, calling her names and questioning her character as a responsible person, in a not very god-fearing tone, all while forcing Ms. McCorvey again, to get burned more for prolonging an unwanted pregnancy due to waiting on a decision that is determined in court by that aforementioned group of men, which is like the sportsman’s equivalent of just killing the clock to win a game but it isn’t a ******* game it’s a woman’s body, which clearly they didn’t care anything about just as long as they get that **** baby in the next 6 months or so, but as stated above it is indeed unwanted, so really who is going to take care of the ******* baby because we know how much people just love adopting ******* children?
Let’s ask 25 republicans!

But some people talk of 69 differently,

Some remember the Beatles.
Some recall Charles Manson.

Kind of like today
Some say we are putting god back in our government
And The rest of us in 1972 to 2019 are wondering who the **** invited god?
I never knew God and every white person’s, “one uncle” has the same opinion.
Amazing!
But Uncle Alabama shouldn’t speak for God.
Wait until he finds out she’s a woman.
That’d be a kick to the unregulated nuts we can just spew anywhere, like a natural ******* disaster.

That’s what the name of this ******* poem should be,
but it’s not.

Sincere, *******.
That’s what I call this one,
That’s what I call the last 2 and half years too.
And this poem.

And telling women what to do with their bodies.

Some people would think differently.
But I don’t think some people think.

vacuum of light
a dark so still it has no sound
profound dark
deep time
breathe
slow now
there is no linear logic to this
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

unregulated yet ordered
power prevailing and insinuating into all
forming intimate unions across boundaries that make our reason
breathe
slow now
there is no physical logic to this
it is
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

draws on the eternal
it has a future
impacts on now
a brain cannot fathom
the past is still to come
breathe
slow now
there is no epochal logic to this
it is
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

energy
it moves through and within
whispering around the edges of the quiet mind
enfolded
in those spaces between thoughts
breathe
slow now
there is divine logic
immerse
in this
deep time
in saecula saeculorum


#thisjourneyofdays

thanklessly the bankers
of Wall Street
meet in discrete fields
just outside of Tupelo
plotting to further victimize
the middle of America
through interest rate hikes
and trickle down economic theory
clearly they only have our interests
in heart…
corporate hedge funds
send tons of
industrial sludge
to ponds near elementary schools
where the rules are
pick up your messes
I guess they skipped that day of class…
rash covered babies
with minimal lung function
sit at the crossroads
or junction
of a nation in transition
the plight of the people is lost
on the wealthy unregulated
impoverished men sit
waiting for a V.A. date
and the medication necessary
to combat PTSD and hold down a job
loggers with broken backs attack
environmentalists
for risking their lives to save
species…the flora and fauna
but the powers that be don’t wanna…
the United States needs a comma –

tingling toes tell the tales of my woes
so self aware with my laser set to stun
i’ve always known, it’s just the way it goes
under the gun and staring into the sun
i thought i won but i’m the first one drunk
on spider webs weaved and spun
my mind as stagnate as the wind around the sun
my thoughts have begun to run on my *****
hunched over failure or lack there of
with nothing left inside my lungs

like dharma. like thrown lead.ransomed  .like a hostess with a gun to her head stone. carving metal casting dry mouth hair ropeand as you.            shrank
backwards into the sea.to taste the salt that i become. head around bone thumb entire histories of shoetiers into the innocent briars.like the hairs- scrubmust mosslust.under your fingers.each breath shoveled on
like.every single unregulated prayerdamaging us all. though i stabbed
away greedily-   verily, we could come back home, waiting for the
crash
that never comes.thrushly.tearing awaythe sick branches . tumbling down the
stairs unrequited
and

convulsing.
*if i'm the most interesting thing, than we have a problem.

REVOLVING REPAIR
First breath awaking in darkness, silence then given quickly to a rush, whisked into heat and noise
steady, holding back clinks,pings ,rings warming into soft flashes almost melancholic if it were bottled as beauty
Flush with the freshness of a moment so instant, smells broke into color segments seen as slides, a long lifetime voice
Harboring back before seeking outward motion ,yet relaxing with angst, not realizing to soon become one again acutely

Broke out of that beginning ,steadily come out of unrest can now become the hardest test
Wanting to lay back in that happy although confusing matrimony of several souls ,placidity quickly becoming memory
Tension tucked under a softer note until it vibrates into the moment ,helping the noise grow it is yours to divest
Having to come up and face the pain is now not your decision to restrain ,it WILL be now ,unregulated even scary

Processed at a baseline level, the neutral of what is next is almost impossible to place into text
Begging to stay back but intentionally standing up ,dusting ,cleansing,rinsing, allows much more freedom to our soul
Broke out to scale a new life ladder ,will it hold the weight of our future fate as we gain new ground anxiously without proper rest
Standing now are we ready for the approaching head wave ,inner trust is a positive must when seeking new ground is our role

MADE IT! only a moment we gained a bit ,realizing the true life drama of flesh and bones is not some elusive parallel
Stretching out, making movements as a process of testing ,finding levels and degrees of burn or recall
Fast forgotten ,moved along rode out up and over more obstacles ,a course without remorse a blinding spinning carousel
Fast but with resolution ,more as another marker to gauge all oncoming events ,rising to the next level with new wisdom to enthrall.R.C.

I sit here again
with a beer and a cigarette
communing with a lost soul
my own?
    someone else's?
I read scripture and the
words dance around me
a thousand flights of fancy
on the page
my incense burning
this pure incense burning
this pure understanding
of the cruel nature
of humanity
of friends, heroes, lovers
I write it all down
try to solve it
it stands before me
a picture of my steps
to this point
I have reached the point
of unabashed unregulated
distorted reality
my daily life
the breathing
the eating
the sleeping
it doesn't seem any more real
than this life I live
in my head
or somewhere in my heart
and I long to touch the
part of me that is real
but I am so disconnected

flowers in the winter still grow towards the sun
and such is my soul
leaning leaning
toward the everlasting source
                                                     reality fails me
and lights go dim
and I cause the moon to glow for a light
somewhere in this dark night
                                                  and I can't stop believing in a God that doesn't exist
                      but which pushes further down this tunnel into the hell
of my eternity
and I can't
find simplicity
can't find purity
it's all convoluted
I hate the game
   shifting pulling
begging for release
and somehow I am
an ember in a fire
bent on burning out
forever
and I have a soul
I have a heart
someone acknowledge me in this newspaper grey world
I am flat lining
where will I go after
this life has sloughed off my skin
I know I am endless
and I am bound for a world
where opinion doesn't taint reason
                            and somehow
                            I will be there
                            where the sky meets space
                            I will be there
                                                   somehow.

What is wrong with me?
Unregulated hormones up the wall?
I'm getting older, arn't these hormones supposed to chill out?
(STRESS)
I already use man-deodorant.
It lasts longer and works better.
My body had abandoned hope for women's Secret or smelling like Teen Spirit long ago.
(STRESS)
Three applications a day.
Avoid synthetics, they hold smell.
Shower every morning to manage.
The sweet scent of Gain can only do so much.
(STRESS)
The state of our current political affairs, is the root cause.
Lacking basic human rights, is the root cause.
A country of ignorant people spreading hate, is the root cause.
(STRESS)
Deodorant doesn't stand a chance!

So many claim that they will commit violence
But are cowards who will commit to silence
In the moments of need remain still and compliant
Thank goodness for others cowardice
How else would we have unregulated avarice

upon the 'free man' meeting the 'gift of god':
mind you, not gift off,
but gift of... of pertaining to: in relation to:
in the orbit of god...
not off god: implication of away from...

when Charles met Matthew
and did a little psy-op collaboration...

ᚲᚨᚱᛁᛚᚨᛉ
Κάρολος
                KAROLOS

Ματθαίος

in ******: CH - german Z for C
but also H          cha cha laughter
in Lviv
            JA JA          in Madrid
while XA XA in Mexico City....

   C'H....           cecha - should the vowels be
summoned: cecha: characteristic...

the Runes of Norway, Saxony,
Sweden Denmark became Latin...
Latin became Italian
became Spanish...
    remains of the Greek...

ᛗᚨᛏᛏᛖᚢᛋ

ᛗᚨᛏᛖᛟ

        i can venture further, into old church
Slavonic and Turkic -
since we're all similar in the Caucasian sense
of: not the origins of Africa...
the Polynesians originated from
the little island of Taiwan
circa 3000 B.C.

       and did the opposite of Alexander
the Great and Genghis Khan
crossing the great Pacific by oar and in similarity
to the Norsemen...
settled on fertile plots of land born
from volcanic disgruntlement of:
not enough land... too much sea...

salt and water... NaCl-H₂O

later cauliflower salt ships in the sky
reimagining swans and castles in clouds...
clouds by extension are the "dry" residue
of the waters of the seas...
like daughters of the Moon who governs
the tides...
the clouds are ******* up and
mitigating: purifying the waters for plants
to grow...

         such is the claim of the Hebrews:
that they are proud, too proud...
having overcome the preservation of their tongue
having quenched cuneiform
of the Babylonians,
having overcome Latin...

kind reminder: the letters are still intact...
why am i using Latin letters
but not speaking Latin?
the grammar of the Latin men
is still intact in me...
should i switch to speaking ******...
i will do as the Latin men did:
disuse or glide over the use of pronouns:
since pronouns will become incorporated
into nouns and verbs
i will glide over the shrapnel that's English...
i will sexualise words
and avoid the gender neutrality of nouns

i will call the moon a HE
and will call the sun a SHE
thus paying a compliment to the Hebrew deity...
HA-SHEM...

Ματθαῖος... (yos - mat-fa-yos... explanation
   of the ~ diacritical mark above the iota,
morphing it into a y)

         i find that people are embarrassed
about their names...
some people don't live up to them...
they would rather be called "it" or "that" or "them"
or "they" or            "chair"?

SIT... said the chair?
        while the knife said cut, make an incision
while the spoon imitated the cusped hand
and implored "you" to slurp a mouthful of soup?
i don't believe anyone ever drank water
using a spoon... seems rather suspicious
to think a spoon would be invented to make
drinking water somehow... "civilised"?

ש ᚨ ᚱ        ᚠ

it would seem that shin grew a leg
and stood up like fehu...
O the days when letters had names
like the Greek alphas
   and omegas
rather than this Latin sing-song-along
and dental: when asked with mouth open
and someone inspecting the bones that grind
the letter A... not alpha but AH... sigh AH
regurgitate A for me with a sigh
like a youngling seagull being force-fed
regurgitated fish...

regardless: my translation skills are...
although it is true:
i am yet to ingest chatGPT any mention
of Greek or Hebrew...
perhaps i can be aided...

      such that the past few days culminated
in an evening of summoning
a body-mind duality in the framework
of IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) -
or rather... congested cognitive "bias"-*******
of a disruptive class
and me feeding evidence to the programme
provider... blah blah...
in a classroom where i'm the 2nd eldest...
with "men" in their 40s...
a peer... in his 36...
either *** mad or *** starved...
siding with girls... girls... scarlett o'hara
types... horrible girly women...
femme fatales...

the trouble started when the classroom was
rearranged... Oana
came in late and saw me sitting at a table
alone so she sat down next to me...
major ******* flirt...
"innocently" rubbed against me...
touched my hand... flicked her hair onto me...

yes: i did ask for her number:
FOR NETWORKING FOR NETWORKING...
she complained about Andy not buying
her something sweet...
so i went out of my way to go for lunch
and buy her a piece of Romanian cake...
unknown to me was her relationship status...
a day later i learned that she has a boyfriend...
but i'm not yet a zombie or a half-baked
resurrection: yes... i'm taken...
but play is play when you're in an educational
environment...
i can play a flirt...
                    i can flirt... if the game is a game
of reciprocation... done covertly...
on a transcendental / unconscious level...

and then the other girls on the course:
hot catches? not exactly...
it's hardly racist to say that i'm not attracted to
black girls... tell a homosexual to like women
is like telling certain white boys to like black
girls: and i don't even care what the white girls
want or like...

i'm into Raj girls, Latino girls,
Turkic girls... sorry... that's just my inbuilt
discriminatory: ***...
    i will not be forced into liking black girls...
i actually find black men attractive...
sorry... not the women...
on the rare occasion yes:
have i ****** a black girl before: yes...
but...                              the psychology is just not aligned...

Holly and her neck tattoo and a Medusa
tattoo on her hand...
a heart on her face...
oh yeah: painfully 20 / 21 with Kelsey
all ****** out single mums ready catches
with so little life experience
devolving the teaching environment into
a ****-life let's all call for a mass-walkout
go for unregulated cigarette breaks,
let's drag this SIA course for almost: forever
like i haven't already wasted 3 weeks of my life...

or at least that's how i'm reading the situation:
girls just wanna have fun
then a Matthew and a Charles come along
and the boys are taken
they talk candidly about *** with their partners
like boys ought to do
and about life and society
and Stoicism... oh yeah: we talked about Stoicism
and manhood and dietary requirements
and testosterone...

because a stoic is not a cynic is not a sceptic...
a stoic is not a cynic is not a sceptic...
just like my history is entwined with etymology
rather than... Darwinism...
i have an etymological reading of history...
anything that happened outside of the realm
of the use of communication via words
doesn't really bother me...
this grand architecture of form of ape
and beyond this grand genesis out of Africa:
i just look toward Polynesia and:
out of ******* Taiwan...                       mate...

talk about being in the same room
with a bunch of ***-mad 20 year old girls
being the 37 year old man that i am: taken...
it's like they completely forgot to realise
that i might have had some brothel education...
the higher end... with older women than me...
am i suddenly going to use my age as
an advantage on them to groom?!
oh i'm pretty sure those men exist...
but here's me going on a "hunch" with what
Socrates said:

by all means marry; if you get a good wife,
you'll become happy; if you get a bad one,
you'll become a philosopher;

well then: don't marry... but at least to gravitate
toward being with a woman...
i could never appreciate
the state empowering a woman
to the point of based biases...
    i can give a formal allegiance...
i can ask a woman for a ring to put on my finger
to keep me in check...
but a signed off arrangement...
with fealty to a state to interfere?!
no... if separating... on amicable terms...
on personal intuition...
on not giving a **** ****'s sake **** is an OATH
word...
mind you: i was thinking about solipsism last
night when falling asleep...

the ego... construct... doesn't the ego "think"
of itself as a... solipsist?
i suspect my ego like anyone else's ego
is a naturally inclined solipsist...
this whole 19th century psychiatric
impolision gravitating to the schematised man
with the secular trinity of Freud's
conjuring simply justified the ego's withdraw
into more solipsistic antics...
this lack of accountability in modern people,
their lack of judgement...
their obliviousness...
non-responsive empathy stressors...

                  it's becoming... slightly worrying.

I hope you don't mind
if I wander in through your front door
and reset your clocks to headlight savings
life requires humor he said to the lens grinders
who were eradicating global stupidity
with mass readings of children's fairy tales
same **** greater magnification was basically it
applying one clever artifice after another
one's conscience does want to hasten
the modern world along clippity clop
impediments to traffic flow were to be shot
what happened next is not in the dictionary
which is fine don't get me wrong
beats the nuts off a hunger for facts
but the world is not nice anymore
isolated pockets of apostasy perhaps
out in the bleak lizard sands hanging from a tree
but the rest stuffed with foam peanuts
that could turn you to ballroom dancing
your narrator being the test case
for daisy picking the numbers
the samples the statistics
the entire ABC unit was called in
from the chalk mines
and the XYZ crew was mobilized
from the slate quarry
his mind had turned upon itself
out of shame and envy
he had an entire city in his head
that wasn’t in Architectural Digest
honkings sirens gunfire breaking glass
compulgings and obsessities and hallucinotions
mysterias and distortoons and damplifications
may I add unregulated bowel flux
we haven't even begun to look at his libido
which had shrunk precipitously from
a roaring blacksmith's forge of intensity
to the vague expectation of an afternoon nap
better than living the prelude to a beheading
you decide if hiding in the bushes permanently
like a grinning jack in the box with a message
is the same as dancing through the forest
draped about in leaves and emeralds
pantomime after all is deception
random at first then shapes intervene
there is no random he said over and over
repetition is proof after all
they say the devil spoke Hebrew
and Popeye smoked his spinach
a contemporary exercise in
signal location

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon

It’s happening

It’s happening
We can not deny
It IS happening

The country has left the EU
The drawbridge is coming up
Politics is racing to the right
Way too far
To the
Right

Priti Patel
Donning the armour of 'home secretary'
Is laying down her rules

"People will not be able to come here
Unless they score sufficient points
We only want people with the right skills
We only want people who speak English
We only want people
Who will contribute to our economy"

70 points and you qualify
Less than 70, no thanks

Points
Points?
Points!

These people...
This 'Government' is deciding
Who is to be deemed worthy
And who is not
And it stinks
It is inhumane
And rotten

Let us not dress this up as some important policy
This simply stinks

Great countries appreciate the inherent value of all people
They welcome each individual
Not just those
Who can make them money

Society needs
Carers, lovers, families, mothers, grandparents, uncles, aunties, diversity, difference, colour, movement, growth

We are not to be judged
By a number
Or an assessment of our economic output
By a pointless bureaucrat

Look at where this unregulated economic race has got us!
To the brink of environmental disaster
To a point in which the top ten percent
Own half of the country’s wealth
And the 90 per cent
Make do with the scraps

We must stop labelling people
As units of production

People are people
They are precious
Wonderful
Valuable
Beyond all measures of currency

Politicians
What score would you give yourself today?
What 'value' are you bringing to the country
Through this demeaning system?

What if you were to become ill tomorrow?
Or need to stop working to care for a loved one?
Will we then assess you on your usefulness to our economy?
How would you like that?
How would that feel...to you?

This country is becoming a place
Where the word welcome
Has no real meaning

It is being shaped
As a place for the 'me first' attitude
The 'greed first' country
The take what you can get attitude
The place of judgement
Where the economy is
The golden shrine
And the rich observe the poor from their ivory towers
With contempt

I fight this mess with my words
I will spread my belief
Without fear
For the beliefs of this right wing Government
Bring shame upon our country