ultimate doorstep
you trod mine
delivering cold spaghetti

Whilst wet with rain
beneath a tree
An introspective moment
had a sneaky peek at me.
Who am I and what am I
... and what have I to show?
And should I be concerned
that very few... may care to know?

Slightly left of centre
With a wrinkled, balding crown,
Scarred and bushy eyebrows
And a mouth that tends to frown.
A grizzled beard hides multitudes
Of sins I wish to hide
And the beauty of my burning youth
Has long since shrivel dried.

The paunch has spread expansively,
Athletic legs have shrunk
And my ****** performance
Has diminished with a thunk.
I suffer fools reluctantly
In fact, it’s true to say...
That my patience and forbearance
Is  more limited each day.

Pasta Carbonara
In a creamy bacon sauce
With a smooth rewarding merlot
Is my favourite fare.. of course!
Plus a stodgy Apple pudding
Bathed in double dairy cream
And a steaming cappuccino
Topped with chocolate is a dream.

A powerhouse of action
With the things I Iike to do
And a sloth, to beat the band,
When the Tax Return is due.
An ardent fan for Old Jazz
Vamped on keyboard and the snare
But the world of Rap
Just leaves my head In hideous disrepair.

I’ll face down bullies twice my size
And heaven help the fool
Who interferes with family
For I’ll hit him hard and cruel,
Yet feed me sad old movies
And, any given night, you’ll see
A little tear run down the cheek
Oh so, self consciously for me.

The woman is God’s gift to man
The statuesque, the strong,
The saturnine eyed redhead
Where the gazes linger long.
The magnificence of a ponytail
As it bobs along the street
Atop a Grecian Goddess
With her undulations, sweet.
And ****!.. there is that little dress,
The one that fits so well,
That amplifies your promise
And gives my senses Hell!

And there’s the need to tell the story,
To formulate the plan,
Initiate the living thought
In a delivery of élan.
To modulate the language
To win the ears of youth
With an oratory of promise
To impact them all with couth.

There’s commitment to your Darling
And a tolerance for the kids
And the need for good provision
So we all don’t hit the skids.
And the cat and dog need feeding
Plus the goldfish in the jar,
Then there’s Alf and Frank and Joe
Who all expect me at the Bar.

So what’s it all about you say
This parody called life?
Is it all a headlong rush
Along the road avoiding strife?
Is there any plan or sequence,
Does it pan out in the end
Or is everything a chaos
Driving me around the bend?

Survival is the answer!
Take one small step at a time,
Smile at dear old ladies
And your day will turn out fine.
Avoid the grim policemen
And skirt all growling dogs,
Be gentle with your Sweetheart
And don’t skate on jellied frogs.

The recipe’s so simple
The answer is so clear
Don’t complicate your time with ****
And, please pass another beer.

Marshalg
Still soliloquising under the tree in the falling rain.
26 March 2011

Dracula scared and ******
many victims into his game
Ancient stories- re -vamped
Black and white movies-
Holly- Holly wood
White witches and blood -suckers
How the world fell in love-
With masters of Horror and gore

Nettles settle on moss
She rubs and rules
He’s a succubus
Authorities neither nor
Animals playing
Then naught
Diction annunciating “void”
Vamped value glows red, then dims
Dried skin turns ash
Marshmallow madness drips coals
The last amber switches black
That tune in your head hits one last coda
Pop goes the weasel
There’s the clown
Maestro’s Fever bows
We sweat for a minute
Note's linger then fade
You’re on parade
A riot
Nod and throw candy


© 2019 MJL

They hang limply from the walls as
Old friend DECAY settles
Suburbia Mexicana neons and
Obscene jabs in raspberry
Demonizing the scalp of an 18th cake
The lipstick is not dark enough to
Carry a meaning here

No scent lingers as the calendar turns
Another year burnt to death as
We move further away from coincidence
And desperately memorize the lines of a
Modern work, every brushstroke an intellectual
Marvel so if we stare enough it will enfold on
Itself to glass

Guten morgen, Herr Schicksal!
Would you be so kind as to
Dissolve the peppermint stench
And leave the shower on?
I may see a reflection through the
Steam and like it more than yours
I never much liked chloroform or
Frosted roses

Settle on with
Delusions of Poland
And lazy eye tangos
With naked melodies re-vamped
By a 21st century greaser
Please don’t leave
Hail to Canon, brute of mine!

Where are you headed the road and the future will tell there was truly promise in the air what a
Harvest was indicated the raw frontier lay behind some thirty to forty years an era was casting
Its first tender endearing images onto the landscape radio was the rage but it would be
Supplanted by vision stories would flow into living rooms dreamlike worlds would be presented
On demand the Congo and its fever pitch would be told through savage drums big city and
Small Time America would vive for time and all would be the portent of a country coming of age
And its greatest strength was its innocents love songs would mold our thoughts the older
Generation Seemed to stand with their arms spread out saying take us the rest of the way the
Boogie was Made more marvelous by a faster beat and the content was vamped up by the
Yearning Fulfillment of young love the age was a grooving sound that collectively had glory
Rolled up into Blue suede shoes and a whole lot of shaking going on it was the past and future
At an Intersection like no other the theme was ease hard mean living bowed in gentle dales it
Was the sloping a falling into pleasure that held magical aspects like strolling hand in hand
Down main street with the glowing shop lights greeting you with the feel of what wondrous
Times these are everyone was in this sensational drift a mood that was all consuming it was a
Purring hum that spoke in intimate detail of a way of life that was for a brief time the capture of
Quaintness the streets were filled with chrome and gleaming lines on cars that were spectacles
Of grace and beauty and everyone was caught up in the sensation and was youthful enough to
Exploit it fully without reserve laughter was a marvel that was uncommon it was a time just
Before wealth would rise as a tide but little was like a sacred deed and trust you never behaved
Badly thankfulness way the key in that time it’s funny now with everything no one is thankful
But are really more hateful more distracted distant the problem things have been placed above
Human worth there isn’t love or its accompanying payoff you have a society with so much but
The grand and beautiful is missing while people only get sadder and more lonely we took our
Hearts on a treacherous detour from the high ground to the low estate of rancor because we
Stopped believing in the preciousness of others and sought it in things what deadness that has
Brought

Tower of Silence - Track 10

Intro
(( Stay low ))

Pre-Chorus
Stay low, stay low
They say to shut the fire in my bones
I know, I know
If my bones are Yours, the fire, will grow

Chorus
I wasted time, I wasted death
I think I thought myself of breath
I need to stand, I need to fight
I need to move again tonight

Verse 1
No one to confide, hiding behind walls that confine
A system where I’m walled in
A rhythm that keeps me in depression
Oppressed, restrained to digress
No, I don’t desire to—this pattern I craft fire to
A wall in my way that obstructs my view
Contained by the lies that set my life in skew
With the help of my Blood I’ll reach the top
With the sound of our Kind we won’t fear the drop

Pre-Chorus
Stay low, stay low
They say to shut the fire in my bones
I know, I know
If my bones are Yours, the fire, will grow

Chorus
I wasted time, I wasted death
I think I thought myself of breath
I need to stand, I need to fight
I need to move again tonight

Verse 2
Sometimes I’m able to see the other side
Then I’ll look back and find my mind is tied
These lies convince me I can’t get over the wall
They hype up the doubts and make me fear I’ll fall
Could it all just be one of these schemes
To make me believe in such silly things
What I say when I wanna be more
Make a move and make a break for it
Take a spray can and leave your mark man
Stand up and step out into our plan
Opportunity does not make me certain
But what I’m certain in is, we will will
We can leave this society
Join me in the face of anarchy
Help me destroy our old world
Join with me to build a new one
Rise up and fulfill your duty
Join me in Exarcheia

Break
Wake up—Give up
Rise up—GiVE IN
(((Remember, remember)))

Bridge
(( It seems so fun to let the worry inside
I can’t get the darkness out of my life, anyways
So maybe I should give in
Fancy the dark—it’s a habit
So maybe I should do it anyways ))

Verse 3
So let’s take this energy, this emotion this notion this dependency
Use it, to chose it, for others to lose it
stAY LOw, they say to hold our hope at bay
I know, but I don’t know if the spirits should stay
Demons in this room, should they stay or should they go?
Eyes in the dark, are they friend or are they foe?
Man gave names to all the animals, so no wonder we give names to our own
To what’s not in sight of our candles, what is hidden deep in our bones
It was man that labeled all the beasts, we crafted the dark on which we feast
Was it our duty to name our demons, could this have any sort of meaning
We’ve named the monsters under our bed
For some reason, it’s the blood beneath our skin
And we’ve neglected His blood instead
We’re only engraving our own extinction

Hook
( Though I am weak, still I need to stay moving
Still I need to stay moving )

Verse 4
You are tired, you are bruised
Your world is blurred, and so confused
Don’t give in to these neon lamps
Loneliness hyped and darkness vamped
The blackness seems to inspire
With the nihility we don’t desire
They lure you into a heatless light
You my friend must stand and fight
You, my Kind, you know both sides
I know it’s hard, the silence intensified
So raise your hands up even higher
I know your arms are tired and they have your ankles bound
So stay low to the ground and we’ll leave the freezing fire
Whether it’s the easy way or the hard way, it’s time
To decide which side of the battle you’ll side with
And I promise you, friends, the latter is mine

Hook
Though I am weak, still I need to stay moving
Still I need to stay moving

Pre-Chorus
Stay low, stay low
They say to shut the fire in my bones
I know, I know
If my bones are Yours, the fire will grow

Hook
Though I am weak, still I need to stay moving
Still I need to stay moving
Though I am weak, still I need to stay moving
Still I need to stay—

(( We need to move again tonight )) .

You've read Perfection.
It's subjective.

But your opinion is perfect to me.
No matter how much I disagree
I love the way you are,
The way you speak,
The way you think.

So perfect?
Perhaps.

Our lives cross many paths and many people with such alien thoughts to our own and as all mixes in we take on a piece of that energy. I pray those who randomly take from others remember they will not own the energy taken it is specific to the one vamped. If you run on others you are an alien dead and void of humanity. We all want what we don't have so think about it a moment even in your dreams you are not in body so where you choose to go and who you do is another choice.  Let us all reach for higher reasoning and stop taking without asking. Most are unaware of the energy taken till sickness comes and forgetfulness runs rampant through your mind or what is left of it. Be aware and awake to own your waking and sleeping mindful right use of control and consciousness.

Our lives are not our own it is a higher realm of being that we all are made of.   The creators creative spark, how can we take advantage of our own blessings with clear consciousness after behaving like lower humans?  A take on the word god has many faces, names and realities for all of us to arrive as pure spirit. The pure spirit we are comes from his hand not ours so you can give it up or turn it in for less but trust is inevitable.  The  darkness of the soul has  misunderstandings and losses  do occur in this area it is not eternally safe to exist as a dark being for when judgment comes the light will posses the darkness like a  bad habit with little thought who it consumes to be no more.... I choose to live life as it was meant to be  higher spirit wins in the end, always the creator never looses so truly there is no choice to be made as i do not own myself he does.  It all was given free and clear over the freedom of will his will be done, I have nothing to do but go where i am asked to go and to do as he requires me to do this is not alien *** it is gods way to make sure his children come back to his pureness of being for the last time. To live as forgiven and to be redeemed with a free salvation card to be a rider in the best of plans till you are required to do another assignment.

Some get trapped in the astral having *** like rabbits those are the ones who were trapped in the flesh as well as becoming embedded into the astral. School is the place to go to. Learn all that is required , seek the life you choose to have , see where you have failed in the past life and move on... live jump off the door step of  the most high's house and enjoy life as it is your lessons, trials, and corrections of the spirit we need to be free of the lower alien ***......

God,
Have mercy upon the extortionist's,
The distortionists are all *******,
Some dead,
None life-like!!!!

Fighters draw blood through their ****** syringe,
Through hateful revenge,
Their devils in tattooed disguise!!

Some wearies of pain,
Others forth along for thine ride!!!!

Im not meant for such desire of madness,
All attire vamped out mapped by state,
Some come early and some come late!!

To the gates of hell and back that is.....

I'm sick of hiding behind the cache ,
Behind the decanter of who we really are!!!!!!!

66 six poems of searching for lawyers
(And) lacerating in paper lament
My muse being vamped by the land

Black and white, out-inside
Making no sense, as a tree
Falls into a drained sea.
A mountain is nothing but me

ooh... those crazed up (a fata morgana of eye shadow) eyes of that sweet-***** Elaine Thompson-Herah... alias: Calypso... i was trying to figure out my kinks... mulatto girls... oriental girls... Turkic raven-haired shamans in the bedroom... i like the Olympics... all the body sizes... in their niches... the high-jumpers... the discus throwers... the swimmers... the sprinters... but also the table-tennis players... everyone is being represented... Shiva's girlfriends... if they cook up a curry... no, they won't... i'll be in the kitchen turning it into an organic chemistry chemistry...

critical race: kink...
  you'd think that some
things would remain
in the bedroom:
topsy-turvy world...

perhaps i'll dip a finger into
this fudge...
on seconds thoughts...
perhaps i won't...

"who"? Hugh's hue...
Hugh's hues...
for any native spreschen guise
i'd like to see
the encapsulated surd of double-v
"double-u"
and how the acronym satan:
Santa ** **'s...

each saint a satan...
critical race: kink...
i tried interracial ***...
i met my match with a bony assed
ivory "princess"...
a small tight ***
i knew because the front of
my pelvis...
the "garden of eden" of *****
grew a shade of plum
from the interaction...

i cannot: not... admire the white
teeth of black people...
i tend to forget about their skin....
if you were born into a
homogeneous racial "scrutiny"
of: origins...
i feel sick going back to the old capital:
once in Warsaw
i turn into a feral creature...
so many of "me"...
where are the blacks... the Indians...
all i'm getting is a whiff of
Mongolian...

mind you... at least on the outskirts
of London... how the county
of Essex is teased...
you'll hear the dogs barking
but then you'll hear...
whatever sound the foxes
make that can't be "magically"
turned into either onomatopoeia or
typo...

all of a sudden everyone is
feeling... un-com-fort-able...
copper-skin brush of joy...
little piglet moi gets a ******* suntan...
the skin doesn't resemble
a serpent's shedding its old
girth after having ingested
a giraffe...

a cheap £125's worth of a viking road
bicycle...
it was a waste of money to have invested
in a Trek Marlin 5 worth circa £500...
it really was...
i believe you only require
only about... 7 gears to fathom
heavy traffic...
even at night... pretending to be
a pedestrian... showing the three-finger:
read-in-between-the-lines
to some: oblivious ******
in a: you going to orientate yourself
on the road like a SMART car...
or are you still pretending to be
driving a... ******* TANK?

i've passed so many oblivious people
concerning traffic it's no wonder
i think of them at best as
sleepwalkers..

white girl academic critical
race: kink...
why would i require over or coming to
21 gears?
riding a road bike... sure...
a 26" inch wheels:
but they have a 23cm width...
so i can gazelle up any elevation...
what's with this basic *******...
clashing with church bells
and the uvula...

esp. not now: when a white girl *****
a black boy: Everclear will not make
a song about: "combating stereotypes"...
a white boy ***** a black girl
that doesn't require added inches
for their sofa of an ***...
how about i shove my elbow into that hole
for better measure?

that's why i like keeping cats...
grooming a female aroused me...
for three days solid i was cycling like mad
to and fro central London
looking for an alternative brothel...
i found the long lost abode...
one hour for £120 with a limp biscuit
of a little richard: ****...
shamed...
i returned... and found my pristine
"killer" of a ballerina...
in a span of 30 minutes...
if only i could invert the hour with the 30 minutes...
when my feline "princess"
agitates me with her **** stuck up
while she's about to be teased with
a knee when being groomed...

i'm not gagging for it...
i didn't experience it more than enough
to somehow want it more than
i can do with doing it myself:
well... if i were circumcised...
but since i haven't been circumcised...
****-off strict monotheistic crowd...
under the guise of monotheism:
and my circumcision...
sure... but then the women have to make
concessions...
i'm not getting a circumcision
if she's not going to don a niqab!

pije... pali... konia wali
(he) drinks... smokes... masturbates...
well... if i were given....
a frequented depth of thirst...
but since i haven't...
i can turn 30 minutes of the best ***
into... half a decade's worth of
abstaining from it...

i toy with my beard like it might
be a violin...
there's a hmm portent at some point...
but that's for the deaf...

over the weekend taking apart an old
b.b.q. meticulously...
however many screws have been unscrewed
in my head: whatever came about
from a "chemical imbalance":
notable mention: Robert Walser...
Fernando Pessoa...

well... if only the asylums were still
open...
if only the asylums were still be open...
i'd still be practising all my best
to enter the cages...
reinvent cubism by smearing
excrement in the corners of the room:
or something like that...
but... the "squares" found out us out...
the prisons are very much alive...
asylums?
well... "they" sent the madman into
society... no wonder...
whatever's still left of society
is... two-crutches strong...
struggling toward a myth of Bethlehem...

it's so exhausting...
no one sentenced to be encased in an iron
maiden would leave it with
a necklace of the torture instrument...
even if he said the least...

day one... let's call it a Saturday...
taking apart an old b.b.q....
without a hammer...
***** by *****...

day two... let's call it a Sunday...
putting a new b.b.q. together...
***** by *****...
Hephaestus... no wonder...
i have to thank him for momentary father
status: since my own father never believed
in my tech competence...
changing a bicycle tyre and inner tube...
someone was looking over my shoulder...

forethought: premonition?
i disintegrate into something resembling
a crossword clue by clue...
Prometheus was the TITAN
Hephaestus was the god of            fire...
that titans came before the gods...
it's not like Prometheus stole the fire
from Hephaestus...
but as the gods built their marble Olympus while
the humans were left cowering naked
in mud-huts...
a sacrifice...

                flimsy narrative...
besides... by the time someone decided to steal
the electric rod of Zeus...
an Edison... he was no closer to being
credited for it...
instead: making his living from having
created the archetype of movies...
ha... "making his living":
i'm so disinterested in money
that translates as...
keeping up a family... the "genes"...

    - each and every day i wake up
"thinking": before i get onto that bicycle:
there's no point eating up the itch...
why do i have to find meaning at the end
of the day: in writing...
rather than at the beginning with the sunrise:
some "vague" prompt...
to motivate me.... ?  ?
                                ?  ?

i probably know why... just today at the recycling
centre some... puppy... late middle aged
man in a Nissan Micra... or whatever...
i just shrugged my shoulders when
i was investigated with an accusation
of missing his front lights
while i was taking an old lamp out from
the boot... petty insect: bothersome little:
cre-ah-ture...
i shrugged my shoulders because:
no damage was done but he insisted on:

OH! WHAT IF?!
it broke me when he called me a silly ****...
pumped up chest...
i was going to say: how much do you weigh?
how many teeth that are not prosthetics do you
own?
i just shouted: ******* mate...
no damage was done yet he was
adoring his entire possessions in
a ******* ******...
that moment between shrugging my shoulders
and eyeing him up...
a momentary pause: i too feed off the petty heart....

i wish it was... the first time i discovered
tom petty & the heartbreakers...
i was with someone in the driving seat who
shouted: better buy a Bentley to
have those sort of concerns...
whatever happened to: innocent until
proven guilty... whatever happened to:
wait until the damage is done
before throwing a ******* poodle cartwheel
of a hissy-fit...
no damage... but being called a silly-****...

petty people bother me... more than mountains...
or the seas...
the heart turns into a placebo of:
what it must feel like jumping out
of an aeroplane armed with a parachute...
i wish i said: bark little doggy... bark...
next time you bark... i'll bite...
but i'm ******* slow... i'm always either
elsewhere: trapped in some variation
of dasein: some horizon of: there's... existence
elsewhere... always...
now mash this up with an elevation of
the cartesian res cogitans: i.e. buddha walking
as i like to call it: res vanus: the empty thing...

that moment of frozen mirrors when
i eyed up foul mouthed poodle...
sitting in his car... neither scratched nor
attended to...
he would do x, y, & z... i shrugged my shoulders:
did anything happen?
oh god... such motivation to find a chunk of
beef large enough to practice boxing on...

i'm thinking about Brazilian mulattos...
Jamaican Calypsos...
all the hoard of Asia brought to the altar
by the Mongolian horde...
and here i am...
abstinent... gladly...
please don't cage me... a moment more with
the Turkish raven haired shamans of
the bedroom...

- it's not even funny...
i'll spend near £500 on a Trek Marlin mountain-bike...
it's only 3 months+ old...
it started to cringe at me... squeak...
make odd-noises...
but that Viking road-bicycle: kol

anything... almost anything with a label:
MADE IN XINA... made by the number...
worth duck-squat...
i still own things manufactured in...
for ****'s sake: Sri Lankan rubber...
Pakistani / Bangladeshi linen...
almost always the better quality than
those fake Beijing silk woorms...

by why of bypassing editorial scrutiny...
aren't the public the better judge of...
what, exactly... is... being... printed?
not much... go go green!
so... me... waiting... one rejection letter
after another... not reaching the immediacy
of an audience... just so... i can establish
and authority of "publishing"?
the gate-keepers?
the... ahem... "selected tastes"?
i have a long attention span...
but i have a very short sense of humour...
for that matter... my father thinks it funny
pushing my span of keeping... my anger at bay...

i'll immediately post: and free! free whittle birdie!
what use do i have with orthodox publishing
credentials?!
when all, i, wanted... was to bypass
the orthodox publishing credentials...
**** the medals: it's all about taking part!
democracy or no democracy?!
should we ask Iraq... Libya... Afghanistan?!
itch... itch... i'm itching...
which implies: the itch existent and the process
of alleviating the itch: by scratching the itch:
i'm itching...

the sort of song you rarely hear on the radio:
black... wonderful life...
i'm too not skipping along to the rhyme
of flipping burgers... or burdens of the easily
available.... scooter frenzy of arrived
at New Delhi traffic:
seems i had to merely introspect
to find a snippet of the Giza pyramids...

- to hell with magic...
there's mythology, there's air all around us...
and like this one poet
mentioned ( )
water water everywhere...
but not a drop to drink...

the Pollacks: the Paul lean brigadiers have...
gladly left these isles...
forget these isles: fellow ethnic scrutiny...
let the English housewives make
better jokes when the ****** plumbers have
left and the tap is left running...
jazzy pop interludes with 1980s/ 1990s...
whatever you had in mind...
thank you... i'll leave it to the closure...
my fellow-countrymen have left...
to concentrate on their own "hood"...
your's? slightly undermined...
but blame me...

oh they're not interludes...
it's fine by anyone's standards if a white
girl welcomes her ******* baptism...
but a shy thought of a romance with Calypso...
or the hearth of Asia by a what-why-not-a-white-"bloke"....
******* clowns and jazz-hand clapping!

i once attempted a take on ENSO...
no chance... not now... not ever...
but the white girls pursue their...
****** liberation freedom:
look at me...
come in between... a decade's worth of
abstinence... halved...
then again encountered...
sell me all that's the Brazilian
of the mulatto bonanza...
i'll buy it...

30 minutes with a Turkish "killer": in her own
words... and i'm freed from
the extravagance of a responsibility...
to tow woman... and at least 2 children
in tow.... towing a woman
and at least two children...
no... thank... you... it's not enough
to merely breed for a product of 2 produce 1...
2 at least better produce 2...

i don't want to breed in this environment...
who would?!
idiot... saint... a *******
psalm singer... a reciter of the qu'ran?
it must still be a success story
among Muslims... to leech onto the
conquest ambitions fo the Turks
penetrating Europe:
although the Arabs probably think the Turks
as lesser "Muslims"...
but who is to forget the... bridegroom
of a reflex...
how the Christian Serbs....
how the Christian Serbs...
made the remains of the Ottoman Empire...
little or no nought of ash, skull...  bone...
we... "we"... Caucasus brigade...
sure... very Anglo-Saxon: WASP sensibly in Nyod: Ork...
just because the Jews can have their
Holocaust... doesn't mean that..
what's sleeping can't be suddenly woken...
n'est c'est pas?
it takes something trivial...

because the sacrificial body of lamb of Muslims
didn't take place... in "Europe"...
the Ottomans: whoever they were...
yes... they "were"... already happened...
it's such a tease... here's my slingshot
of history... the Bataclan theatre massacre...
sure... just give it enough time...
enough soy...
i'm clinging to the memory of Robespierre...
the guillotine too...
i'm gearing up...

who is? not me... some mythological collective: oui!
je! moi aussi!
nice living together: isn't it... esp. in
the clique of keeping up with
updates of Rotherham...
alias for... ha ha!
speaker's corner...
why are the Hing-Leash...
sowwy so so: sur-PRIOR-EASE!
***: onto the surf ye' go forth!

years later... whatever ****** revolution happened:
the girls entered a harem...
the boys were left talking solo
with "premonitions" of:
glad to be awake:
would be... abortions....
vamped up *** revolutionised:
for the women...
if the men were not subjected to world war I
trench warfare... they would
most certainly be crippled my
chemistry infused...
limp biscuit **** while the harem of all sorts...
she... pleads a pretty please back
to... who?
via beer it's he **** of gods...
via whiskey it's ms. amber...
same ****: different cover...

ghosts of the same poker fold... facing...
each other: worth of the same
evil: intent...

the liberated woman:
the liberated man...
seems i "forgot" to pass on the intrinsic
demands of the stereotypical man:
archetypical hunting... gathering...
sorry... you were saying, "saying" something...
no... must have missed me...
i probably "forgot"...

fair enough with the girl playing
her interracial anti-racism white anti-...
o.k.: whatever...
it's a proper antithesis surge of her
already met expectations when
i figure out a Calypso for my hard-on...

she's becoming boring...
truly: literally: *******... boring...
like her adventure was only surrounding
her juiced up opening of an oyster's worth
of ****!
*** is already boring:
i can have it on a relapse...
once every half a decade...
however much she tries to sell it...
the wind sells itself better...
silence also...
eh... she moans: she might moan:
the magpies cackle with
more authenticity...
the crows croak with more "girth"...

she can sort herself out...
after all...
she's the freely available...
variation of: what it might feel like...
living in Buenos Aires...
all the freedoms she requires...
i'll sooner come toward
a foetus within the confines
of a tornado: genesis a tadpole...
than i will ever make do with:

dough: dumb downer... make: do...
ugh! ugh! WOO-MAN! WOE-MAN...
whatever...
i don't mind the crisp: cut... dying out...
this cul de sac...
why would i?

i sort of... stop myself... forgetting myself...
whenever i cycle down oxford st.
and some Japanese gearing up:
****-pants flashes me for kicks...
you lost me at the brothel...
i lost myself at the brothel...
with the Turkish and Romanian girls...
sorry... what?

the night is always in its infancy
while the day: ages: oh most... terribly...
the day ages with responsibilities...
while the night runs: RAM-PANT...
such is the privy acquired by those awake
in the: NACHT...
everyone else is asleep...
by "tomorrow's": today's a quarter
to... 8... i'll be fresh as a daisy...

although the miracle of tourism
of sightseeing central London via cycling
will not be undertaken...
there will be as much of as little
as there is of this: to nibble on...
for anyone: eager...

a pursuit of the roundabout current...
yes yes... many thanks... ado...
no... thank you...
me chasing "shadow" while also gearing
up to the momentum leftovers
of either a bus or a truck...
how, did... so... many...
"cyclists"... get... towed... dragged...
under... these... trucks... busses...
oblivious traffic hierarchy status: "superiority"
complex?
minced meat... i like to think of those deaths
as... minced meat...
they had to be: St. Pancreas: minced: "dodgers"...

best dead... retardo: fernando: minced meat
"dodgers"...
oh guy's gotta looks ups!
(in that ****** aghast voice-over)
i get a hard-on every time
i entertain a roundabout
where i'm quicker off the mark
than some tirade of traffic...
always aiming for the momentum
associated with a truck
or a bus... or a south african scrum...

eh... little women: know very little.

Haunted house
Apple hill
Evil lurked
Time stood still.

Spirits play
Spectres ****
In that house
On apple hill.

Foolish or brave
I had to go
So I visited
This horror show.

Pressed the doorbell
Of this haunted house
Screamed like a lion
Roared like a mouse.

Door hinges creaked
Opened wide
Deep breath
I went inside.

Apparitions flew
Inside the room
Showed no fear
Appending doom.

Noise deafening
Screams they thrill
Inside this house
On apple hill

Sitting in dusty chair
Near fire of bones
I did not care.
Demon appeared
Sat down beside
He was the spirit
Of Jekyll and Hyde
Please I said you
Don’t frighten me
Be good fellow
Make us some tea.

Demon roared laughter
Howled as if in pain
Then asked me if I
Was completely insane.

I now reside in this house
On apple hill
Where spirits would play
And time stood still.

Come and visit me
In this lovely place
I’ll try not to scare
And eat your face.

Post code PO3666
Apple hill
Come and get your
Daily thrill.

Sender's search for grain
Demeter's semester of scintillation
Of silverware
On the table
Dining for two
The reflection in the knives
Too?
A lonelier glare keeps her
In the view of my stare
When I find the deer among dragons
In the spectral leer
Head-full of facile fantasy
Mead in her brown glass
Blue blood-bad blood
Broken heart
Doe running
Easier in than out
A sprightly dash
Like burgundy brings a smile
Her garbed lipstick
Full of vamped veritaserum
With a mindful of cultured curiosity
I filter out her secrets
In the question of ad quorum
Of my justice
That is my fiction
That is my end
Of my imagination
Harboring my death
In the clasping hands
Of winsome women with schemes
So lithe
Feeling solace
In nothing but a heartbreak
Love is the rose
You just got to
Let it grow

i had to wait for gaming to evolve: right now, the only evolution to speak of is the evolution of technology, which has exponential growth: the world around me burns and i burn with it, ingesting a liter of alcohol a day not knowing when to stop: is it painful: am i getting indigestion, heart-burns: yes... but i'm also more alive because of it: i'm not some wanderer, restless nomad with barbiturates: i understand alcohol: Nietzsche didn't... but i don't blame him... but gaming is so much more with the advent of the internet: now i can replenish my thirst for chess with Mech- -Arena ++, it is an imitation of chess it is vamped up chess... i get to orientate my ego, i get to sooth my ego in the abstract, beyond the reality of biology, i can fuse my background in chemistry and hope: to understand: but knowledge doesn't breed hope: understanding comes from hope but knowledge comes from fear... i understand and therefore hope: but i never quiet know whether there's any good to get involved for... but that spiral is a chaos whispering... i want to suckle at the beckoning: i want to speak a language on the border between sea and earth and earth and air: and air and water: and air and fire... i want you pluck my own eye out and give it unto you: dear Archetype: father... how gaming has changed: i was told to be resolute in not finding a PS2 instead settling on a PS1 console plugging it into the t.v.: but now the mobile reconstruction: it almost feels like a ***** colony with people aging to 70 exponentially straining the expected life frequency... are we talking the possibility of philosophy being not bound to youth? are we simply saying: philosophy owns up to old age is old age the new glorified gatekeeping strength of mundane experiencing: this blunt knife is no longer sharp... am i supposing a hammer ought to be sharp to nail nails in: am i speaking of spokes: those skeletal necessities of a bicycle wheel?

before the Hebrews and Jahweh came
to Poland:
it's a strange ordeal of think about it...
but before they came with
YHWH
there was a word: prior to the name of
their god
and in the mouths of the people of
the fields...
JAWA:   in English that's YAVA...
there's no need to implore the H to command
the vowels...
JW                  signature...
google translate just spews out jawa: as java...
it's not dzawa:
na jawie: on waking: awake...

   yavye...
                     i understand now...
no one is going to have a reasonable
conversation with me...

i can stand accused of speaking to her
while falling asleep...
also timid also slightly drunk
also testing marijuana
and that's just lazy...
but at least she's just rummaging
in her everyday and i'm in bed
this 11h time difference referential
is punishing...

before YHWH came to Poland
there was the concept of consciousness
known as the JAWA...
YAVA...
not job to rob whales of:
strange creatures:
mammalian: prone to cult like suicide
pacts getting themselves
beached...
don't you think the whales are sort of saying:
the seas are boiling
we need to find our godhead
and get the **** out of this *******...
i feel that...
i don't intend to stay in England
for much longer:
England is not my BORN & BRED
i don't feel welcome:
i want to live in the kingdom of the oceans
on an island:
i want to live among Polynesians...
i want to ingest their tribal mentality
their tribal scrutiny their tribal security
of authority of loyalty of honor
i want to live among the Polynesians...
i'm going to do it:
even if before that i don't get my driving license
and sober up...
to raise: not my daughter:
my a child is still a child so...
i don't want to live among this bastardized
anti-racist pseudo-Europeans
these cuckold **** suckers!
i don't want to live among these people...
****** sandpit:
i'm taking my vocabulary and ******* off
into the sunset:
and even if that's the last thing i do
i know i'm stalling and assassinating myself
by a default of failing:
but then i'm also a fan of a quasi soap-opera
like i'm a big fan of opera and
especially a fan of ****** opera:
i love a ****** opera:
the type of opera that makes me leave
disgruntled like a phantom and saying:
nein nein nein benign!

thank you English: but i picked this language
for my own sake
it was nothing to be mediated
or explored with for the good of the people
who originated with it:
we can talk politics but we won't talk
politico:

a great wind came and swept me away...
my forefathers dreamed about
******* off to America:
well... i'm wanting to ******* way past
America:
i'll be saying hello and goodbye
while i enter the realm, the dimension,
the strict mental blockade of water with
the Polynesians...
these beyond the measure of the attitude
of the Mongols:
these former Taiwanese oar men
like vikings... hmm similitude...
what's a good broth of a soup on the islands
should you need soup?
so the base would be some meat:
carrots... **** no carrots that grow in the sea...
leeks... potatoes...
celeriac...    young celery stalks...
o.k. workable: not doable though...

**** me: the wicked talk of border-control:
on a ******* island...
you'd almost think if someone whispered
to ******: wait wait...
how about we invade England
by digging a tunnel...
but dwarf technology and innovation
was never part of the quick premature *******
mentality of the Nazis:
cheats... if they only waited and someone
said to them...
pst... hush hush:
let's dig a tunnel... rather than terrorize
from the air...
then again: why did they just drop bombs
avoiding St. Paul's cathedral...
why not just drop a bunch of hulkish manly
Aryan men into the mix?
clearly that wasn't the plan
because i don't know what the English feminine
is since i've been ostracized
and thank **** that i will never **** an English
woman: these days
exponent of foul mouth and neck tattoos
and something a Pakistani **** gang develops
a taste for...
well at least the Romanian prostitutes...
but **** is such a bad taste in a mouth wanting
violence...
how can you: ugh... unimaginable...
but i'm happy: to have lived in England
for... donkey's count of years and never actually
having ****** an English girl...
the grey skies ought to be turning blue at some point:
maybe if i was less able
maybe a Hapsburg jawline...
maybe my teeth are rotten:
maybe my father was right when he said:
are you are hunchback?
i'd return to him and say:
let me find out... but i'll need to fly over to
Hawaii to find out... i'll get back to you...

it almost felt like i was screaming into the night
when it fact i was having *******
explaining the importance of *******
on a man...
i have no respect for circumcised men:
in that i have no respect for the tradition
that thinks that circumcising men
will somehow keep the concept of monogamy
intact...
yes:
baby: i'll get circumcised: aesthetic?
no: i was thinking i'd get circumcised after you
put a ring on this finger...
so that i am no longer able to pleasure
myself:
so i did say: dream talk, borderline:
because i talk in my sleep i want to find
the person who talks falling asleep:

didn't i say that you can do one better
than giving me a *******?
didn't i say: kiss me while ******* me?
isn't that what *** ought to be:
something to work with
a transcendental conversation
a language barrier missing
just gone...
you kiss me while jerking me off
i'm pretty sure you don't have to ****
on that tool...
but that's a prerequisite of the *******:
******* sand-******* and their *****: ugh!
how about we cut the lips off
so that the smile might be more prominent?
it won't be a Chelsea grin:
but a Kenyan oopsie!
still showing teeth? barren *******...
and these are the people that are the spearheads
of all civilization? **** me...
but the ******* is so precious...
it's like that poisonous **** mentality
of inbreeding and the fetish for anti-pig...
what's wrong with the pig
what's the point of glorifying cow
when you know you can eat red
meat because the chances of ingesting parasites
from raw steak are so slim?!
cluck cluck cluck-oh-ooh!
chicken farts... blurp:        now i will have
my berserker fun!
   but i know how to contain alcohol: so i can
talk *** and not permit myself
to feeding off violence:
because i believe that the best sort of ***
is: an imitation of violence: contained...
measured:
deliberated: kept in strict of confines of
dialogue: beyond any measure:
attempted by Socrates...

so before Jahweh and his He-brew crew found
their way to the odd sanctuary of
Poland where: i guess because the Poles
defended the last pilgrims of the winds
that were the Lithuanians... the last pagans of
Europe:
well: besides the Prussians who inverted
what wasn't Germanic...
come to think of it: the best way to digest
history is by treating is like a comic book script:
write the words:
the images come later...
so then the Hebrews came to Poland
(how the **** did they get there,
i don't ******* know)
it's almost mythical in the stance of: huh?
so many of them?

the moment i hear one Jew tell me about
the Polish collaboration with the Nazis:
it took...
**** Germany, Soviet Russia...
and the Slovaks to invade Poland...
and it took them... 2 weeks...
it took the same amount of time if not less
for only **** Germany to invade France...
*******...

yeah: well: some probably did:
but last time i heard...
there are more Polish names on the hall of flame
fame... flame... whatever somewhere
in Jerusalem...
but yo: you still circumcised!
i could understand doing a van Gogh's ear
but if these are the people we sow
to find spiritual guidance:
no wonder i'm hearing of Wōðanaz:
woovanaz...
  that's: ð of the
              and not the ᚠ of thought...

                   i think Nietzsche predicted he was
moving outside the Germanic realm
and into the Slavic realm by crying out:
i'm Polish! i'm Polish!
apparently "we" are the French of the Slavic people...

oh the brute:
that Malachi was so wrong: Malachi 4:5...
reincarnation goes against all the supposed
superiority logic of monotheism!
reincarnation of either Jesus or Elijah are
horrendous grievances against man's commitment
to monotheism!
it would have been best
to astound the world with the atheism
of China or the polytheism of India
than to succumb to this constipated and
circumcision frenzy mind ****!
cut an ear off! cut a ****** off!
how these people are not considered as bad
as the Pigme and the cannibals
who sharpen their teeth without having
any maulers i will never want to know!
how about cutting a toe off?
the ******* phallus aesthetic improved:
again!
if you want to truly fathom an unbreakable
bond of monogamy like
an imitation of swan... go for it:
sure thing gurl:
i'll snippet my hand movements off
when you decide to put a ring on this finger...
until then?
nein nein nein!

so now a circumcised **** and donning
the kippah is something of an elevated status?
outside the realm of a somewhat sensible
secularism:
at one point i didn't actually consider
myself a leftist liberal...
or rather a liberal:
but since i've aged i'm just agitated
about conservation projects...
beside wanting to be a gardener: in thought alone...
notably when you read:
oh thoughts are just thoughts
and actions speak louder than words
and words are no carriers of meaning...
actions:
hmm: so you would better understand
if i punched you in the face?
that's what it has culminated into:
words are not carriers of meaning...
spoken as a true dyslexic...
but images are ******* mesmerizing!
images convey meaning: words don't...
well then...
it only feels appropriate to speak
that sign language of a clenched fist:

                             clearly... what else is there?
but i shouldn't worry:
i hope to not live in England come October...
if i'm not on Kauai by December
then at least i'll be dead.

Tower of Silence - Track 6

Verse 1
I think I just don’t recognize it
Or maybe I’m just prone to disguise it
Either way I fight it
I use to let the eyes in the dark
Creep in my conscious and part my heart
Staring up at the ceiling, hardly breathing
The fan circling, my life in loop
The weight of my demons, it’s time to regroup
Staring at the waves, but it’s just that ceiling—
Beams are the things with no balance—as far as I’m reaching
I have instances in my reality
Where I stand and hold my breath cowardly
I have a voice inside me, disguised
That says I’m a mad man and lies
I have moments that tear me down
So I fall and drown
I’m desperately pleading, my fear is screaming
But still I’m sleeping, my soul is freezing

Hook
So I would write to rid a mind of wrong
But as it turns out, the eyes would read along

Verse 2
I don’t know why
Some days I decide
I’m better off stay quiet
Lock myself in another room
As I will enter a state of gloom
I like it
I’m ignoring your eyes, I’m deserting your fight
I don’t know why, I like to make you cry
As you watch the being inside of me
Becomes the thing it doesn’t want to be
Trying your hardest to make me feel, to fill my well
Can’t I just claim that I’m being real?
I can’t just lose the voices I know so well
But I can’t just stay in that room
Otherwise I’ll think too much
In the silence, I’ll think of fears and sorrows and such
I must distract my mind with something
In fear of the thoughts the silence may bring
You have a life, come in and see
So take this pen and do as you please
But in time, please remember Me

Hook
So I would write to rid a mind of wrong
But as it turns out, the eyes would read along

Verse 3
So still I stare into the crimson eyes
My emotions hyped and the darkness vamped
And I give into the call of the neon lamps
Bruised but compelled not to say goodbye
I have a God who fights my battles
But still my head spins and rattles
I’ve developed a tendency to do my own doing
And that’s why my fears are moving
They move through the night and out of sight
But in reality my hope is never losing
I must avoid those eyes, give You the key
You are my hope and again I see
I give my life to You, do what You do
And show me what it means to believe, and follow You

Bridge
Help me breathe, help me breathe, help me breathe, help me bea-eathe
Help me breathe, help meee breathe, help me breathe, help me breathe!
Help my brea-eathe, help me breathe, help me breaaathe, help me breathe
Help me breathe.

Verse 4
I believe many people would say nighttime is not their best time
Because after nine lives our crimes are realized
But when the sun sets if upsets and regrets progress
Our interests are shown from beneath the surface, but from the surface you won’t learn this
Because my nonsense makes your contents look non-violent
So we digress beneath the mess, but putting on a mask to disguise our lies
But for me I find it’s the day
Because by the time I reach midday, my faces hides and I put on a play
In hopes the night will fade away
And then my mind will walk astray, in fear my thoughts will stay this way
But then the surface will start to decay
And then I find the truth behind, that you and I are not so different—keep that in mind
Because when the sun rises, it reveals what’s common inside us
But for some reason we hide this and put on our disguises
Honestly, it cures my insanity
It pleases me to find people like me
Because, truth be told
We are not so different—you and I
Do we all just ignore this great blue sky?
Because by the time the day reaches noon, we all know night will he here soon
Then another day will be haunted by night’s nihility
So to reach our comfortability
We hide behind our mask to please the lie
The lie we find so common inside
Thinking as if it will keep us alive
But the truth is—it’s dead, alright?

I was touched by the toll collector so inappropriately that I couldn't
chock the moment up as real, 'cause it lacked a mad, toll-diver thrill
to rev my motor, stoke my fire & skin my *** after a ****-hunt ****
that capped a Venezuela Gala on the backs of commies out-tapped,
postal-stamped, *****-slapped, witch-vamped & girlfriend-cramped