This poem is for the *******.
The ice princesses.

Solid and frozen.
Hearts carved from arctic stone.
Jaw lines so sharp they could *cut you.
Girls so bitter, *they bite.

Leave your mouth aching.

This is for the evil stepsisters,
The Ursulas,
The Queens of Broken Hearts -

I’ll tell you.
They are deadly beautiful.

They are the bossy, and the terribly too honest.
Mouths on fire,
jaws snapping,
man eaters,
sirens of the sea,
they will swallow you whole.

When the boys ask -
Tell them, no, I don’t need saving.

**** being a princess.
Be the dragon.

Be fire breathing, and pmsing.
Be angry, girl.

Cause you got **** to be angry about.

Every cat call –
Every glass ceiling you will shatter with your bare hands –
Every time you say the word no and mean it –
Every time they make you feel like you anything less than powerful.

You tell them –
You are eternal.

That you carry a generation in your belly -
That it all begins and ends here, inside you.

That you can bleed for seven days straight and come back with teeth sharpened for war.

Remind them that that when something is taken from you, you will do everything you can to get it back.

You will destroy what destroys you.
Eating fire and spitting brimstone.
And never, ever saying sorry.

They will call you crazy.
They will call you over emotional.
They will call you loud mouth.

They will ask for your smile, pretty girl.
Give it to them with poison ivy lips and a razor blade between your teeth.

What no body knew was that Ursula was King Triton’s sister.
A perfect storm.
Banished from the palace -
When a loud, powerful woman gets out of hand, we don’t call it leadership.
We call her dog.
*****.
Bossy.
Fangs out and snarling, we don’t battle, we cat fight.
**** kitten gone wrong, when she learns to leave scars.

A dog, no not a dog, a wolf in heat.
Domestication is a ***** word.

***** is to know your worth, and take it.

To carry it in your esophagus.
A war cry.
Feeding your enemies to your children, and coming back starving for seconds.

Doing anything to stay alive.

Because you were raised by a mother who fed you fear for supper.
Packed your backpack with mace, and brass knuckles.
She told you to turn your body into a weapon.
She knew there would be men who would try to cover your mouth.
So she taught you to bite.

This is how you protect yourself.
A mouth full of *****, and a bark to match.
“Beware of dog” sign around your throat.

This is how you keep them away.
This is how you warn them.

Because the villain was not always the villain.

She was made that way.
You were made this way.

You’ve got brands still healing, still smoking, skin still searing.
You’ve got a trauma written in your blood.
You’ve got a ribcage holding onto your heart too tightly.

You are chasing down a revenge so sweet it could rot your teeth.
A heart attack romance asleep in your chest.

You will come back home limping after this war.

And you will tell all the other girls -

It ain’t all about the love story.
**It’s about the “being in love with yourself” story.

Listen to my voice,
i cry.
Listen to my words.

I may not be blameless
but my love for you is without doubt.

All my life I dreamed,
All my life I searched,
For the one I can give my heart to.

As like a great fairytale.
Starcrossed lovers met, grew and fell in love.

Our love, our bond, our lives.
Quickly all ******* in a big great knot.
A knot which I cherished.
A knot which I thought that cannot be broken.

And so... Like a fairy tale,
I believed in happily ever after.

And so as i thought...

Oh how can I forget?
That mermaid have ursulas,
And princesses have witches.

lurking in shadows,
Lurking behind masks,
Carried apples dipped with poison,

A poison that struck the maidens heart.

Oh how we fell into a chasm,
I do not know.  

Sometimes I wonder,
Sometimes I ponder,
which is You and which is not?

I may not comprehend,
Call me crazy, but I love you anyway.

To the point of desperation,
i shall fight for your heart.
I shall fight for our knot.

And like any fictional fantasy,
My cry is that this, will not be a tale of tragedy.
But will be a tale told from the ancients.

you will soon understand the point, or rather the worthwhile point of investing in the right places, notably books, and notably the essentials of solomon's music filled harems, for you will treat both book and apple alike, how can my contemporaries feel no void in their piracy, in their cheapness, and not expect their thieving to not catch-up with them... the whole lot of them would emerge as philistines, unless of course, they are dumb enough not to congregate on the plateau of genuine commerce, and feel that by stealing artistic outputs they can suddenly surround themselves with brick walls and call them the ursulas in the hermitage admiring artwork, while at the same time forging copies and remaining entrapped, a world whereby suddenly plumbers don't get paid! there's a reason why music companies exist, they are P.R. dynamics, you think that any artist would be lifted from the hades, on a mere whim, or mere admiration by a few? piracy of the content doesn't help, at least with these P.R. companies the crumbs from the table, but when people turn anarchic, the artists are eating ****, and the more **** they eat, the more people are left with nostalgic content, nothing new, nothing explorative, because the contemporary artists suddenly brake rank say to the people like the people once said to the kings & queens: *******! shove that 20th century content up yer gobs and call it sunshine!

i can't say that heidegger's L, VI didn't spur me on
to begin this dragon's breath worth of vitriol
and scolding agitation,
come on, what's this supposed "lived experience"
these days, what is apparently "lived"
is nothing short of the disorientating
"dasein" of journalism...
        we can't even live the basic facts,
always regressing toward an "evolution",
always starting with some sort of
"mutating" presence & adding a superiority
complex...
  we killed of the neanderthals... but kept the apes,
so there goes the "missing link"
argument...
    i wish we kept the neanderthals and
made bush monkey fufu with the apes,
at least we could have authentic slave archetypes
from the neanderthal class of humanoids...
but no, slaughter the **** similis,
and keep the biodiversity of the apes...
how does that work again?
    you're tell me we killed the missing link,
and kept the darwinian vanity project
of the "****" speculo (mirroring man) so we
can write "poetry" with respect to other animals?!
so let me guess, a lot of women wouldn't
really like the black widow spider / mantis
comparison... of course they wouldn't,
but we still make all the other compliments via
a "comparison"...
  why **** off the missing link,
  why **** off all the tarzans that might have
told us: actually, the origin of the eskimos
comes from japanese macaque...
so no: not everyone came from ibrahim nigeria,
you **** dollop of custard for a brain!
don't get communist on me with
a collective history, **** of a common origin:
you have your big "bang" theory -
like you'd hear a "bang" in vacuum...
          enough! of this clowning around!
i agree with this ****, the supposed "lived experience"
is a catchphrase that has become unbearable,
because the sediment of facts is gargantuan
that it's hard to break away from it,
there are no "facts" in the sense of a *lived experience
akin to: and i had my first kiss while i was
5 / 6, and she promised me what she
would never fulfill...
        that's not a "lived experience" event,
that's only hypothetical, a delusion, a fiction...
and at the tip of this atlas pivot pose is
this persistent, primarily insipid in persistence
darwinism...
       i don't live in a civilisation worthy of
no more credit, other than one that provided
the typography of a, zoo:
and darwinism is zoological psychologism
at best... came down to the alpha & the beta -
no wonder we have the alphabet sequence
that makes no sense at all...
        and no, i have no theological bearing with
this, i already equated god as a paraphrasing -
it's the humanism behind this coming-of-age
of populist science turned humanism onto
its humpty-dumpty head that bothers me!
for one, it would appear that thinking is no
longer qualified as being a lived "experience",
are we no longer living by essentially thinking?
evidently we're not;
hand on heart heidegger could not have
predicted his concept of dasein being *****
by the medium of journalism,
   in that journalism morphed the adrenaline
rush of being "there" -
         hence the necessary constant stream of
a global "narrative"...
        in all instances there was no "being" burdened
by a there, other than the being
burdened by a "there" - as common phraseology
suggests, e.g. in church witnessing an ex-girlfriend's
christening of her twins, with the person
sitting next to me exclaiming in a hushed
tone: you're not really here, are you?
   there's a "here"? i replied.
lived experiences my ***,
    after being bombarded with too many
scholastic secularism of hyper-factoid rainbow,
and the eroding of keeping personal memory,
after all that, and still the persistence of
this ****** trivia game shows where
"knowledge" is about storing information
and nothing but that, and why didn't the ancient
greeks, in their old age, worry about
killer proteins invading fat cells of the brain,
and "flexing der muscles for mental
gymnastics" ever worry that ol' alzhei mc. hammer
would be relevant?
     well, while looking at some of these
youtube view counts i start thinking:
  thank **** people are still *****,
so many children watching these brain-drains,
but to be honest these brain-drains can be
like stretching a rubber band, back into a puzzle...
but that's beside the point,
   everything i write is impromptu,
which reminds me of the title and content
originally intended... the sefirot...

   schematic!

  ultimately the keter = yesod = malkhut
(perfect calamity for a disatrous trinity)...
   and there is no person in the world, known to
man, who has achieved that... not even moses...

  then there are variations:

   binah yesod chesed (understanding the foundation
   of love)...

yesod chesed gevurah (the foundation of love is in
strength)...

binah tiferet hod (understanding beauty is in its
splendour)...

tiferet chesed chokhmah (beauty is the love of wisdom)...

yesod keter malkhut (foundation of the crown
resides in the kingship)  
  which is the antithesis of christianity...

chesed gevurah binah (love is the strength in
understanding)...

please make make me stop, but do you know
how many maxims you can obtain from
the sefirot?!

   let me show you the sefirot and you make
the other maxims that could contend with
the book of proverbs, and rest with
  what replaces the star of david; namely?
the hod of david,
   away from the jealous tip of solomon's keter.

                               keter

binah                                          chokhmah

 ­      gevurah                           chesed

                              tiferet

hod               ­                               netzach

                         ­     yesod

                              malkhut

p.s. netzach malkhut keter
         vs. netzach malkhut yesod

i.e. victory does not reside in kingship of a crown,
   rather, victory resides in the kingship
   of a foundation,

  and now i really love how that's
contradictory to what is but the remnant
of indoctrination, as the story suggests,
which is why these two books can't coexist
as one, it makes schizophrenic factories
all the more apparent,
   even in christianity, if you've assimilated
into a culture, but retain your "maiden"
tongue, your bilingualism is treated
like some mental disorder akin to
schizophrenia...
    again, only in england, me marx and engels
thinking up future horrors,
and it culminates in me...
  so... bilingualism is a psychiatric disorder?!
gentlemen! let's broaden our minds!
lawrence, bring in the syrians and libyans,
we need to teach some lessons!