"FIND" TO EXPLORES ONES SELF ,
"WITHOUT HELP",
BRINGS SUCH WEALTH TO SELF,
NOTHIN WRONG ALL JUST WRIGHT ,
SO TAKE FROM SELF ,
O MY GOD , SUCH WEALTH,
WEALTH WASTED BY WISEGUYS,
WOMAN WORRYINLY WASTED OR WASTEN,
TIME TESTED TOTALLY TWISTED ,
TERMINATE TIME.

the magic of advertisement...
it's not like i would drink the beer being
advertißed...
beer sure... but what's being sold?

i could be drinking a really expensive
whiskey... an irish whiskey...
but... i'm no ******* connoisseur...
give me the base-bust of the cheap ****...
and i'll rap you the drunk's
rhapsody...

        closet skeleton and king rat
that i am... not sycophancy prone...
the bass! the horns!
and we have, 'ere... something better than any
thelonious monk's big band jazz:
& orchestra...
it worked pretty well with the quintet
and the quartet...
jazz would never be so limited
as the power-3 of guitar, bass and drums...
you need the piano at some point...
and if not the horn taking front-stage...
because saxophone jazz is more
difficult that you'd be led to believe...

i mean:
i can stomach *******' brew more than
i will ever entertain: a love supreme...

the first one was a hit: to begin with...
the syllables of the three prince charming(s)
the bud frog,
the wise frog,
the err frog...

wiseguys: say ooh la la... say so... c'mon
c'mon...

coupon brigade! the adversts didn't want me
to buy the beer...
sooner or later i'd be glugging down a kosher's
goat slit of: the cider bottle turned up...
and gravity: did what gravity did best...
making the equal playing field:
no better acorn from the bad tree...
still the plateau of the impeding fall...

why would i buy more...
budweiser? they brew... making *******
from what the europeans use
to compensate the bland rye or wheat...
they use hops...
not from rice we were ever to be born...
but the advert cleaved into my like a mantis...
perhaps not because of the song...
but the frogs of the three syllables:
bud-wise-err...

  ****** rice... bleach and other detergent
fermentor *****-whips of beijing...
scared city and... believe it or not...
the vatican library was treated as such...
before the nag hammadi library...
was a chimera doberman and rottweiler let
loose... without anyone minding...

henry westons' cider... my... point of docking
to: two solid feet about to make a tango
into a patchwork of a waffle....

i could drink really expensive alcohol...
i could... to tease the buds of: spring without spring...
but... i just care about drink
and in that: i bring spring with me!
because i'm quiet fond of the drunk qui: une...
je and moi...
i drink and the imaginary drum-kit comes
out as i wait to: pressure listening to a beat
with my idle hands that are still waiting
for the devil to wake up from a slumber
as i click-click-and-wait-for-maggot-bait...
it's no piano: this alphabet of:
shouldn't we blind-teach the alphabet
as not: a b c d e f g h i...
and more q w e r t y u i o p...
and how: if you're not going to become
a juggling schizoid bilingual...
you need one tongue to speak...
two eyes to see and read...
and, most effectively: two hands to write?
since we've abandoned the concept
of hand-writing?

the sinkin sensation of throwing a stone into a lake;
breaking the mirror -
unlike throwing a stone into a river:
completely uninterrupted -
or a the sea -
faking faking faking: if only it was about
putting on clown make-up...

the sensation of throwing a stone into a lake
with it skimming / skipping before the anchor moment
of the SINKing...
while you remained shackled to the shore...
and the sand doesn't eat you up...
the forever standing wishing to fall...
the stone the heart... if only it was that easy...
the labyrinth the straitjacket of the mind
grieving... what's to be expected:
mostly it isn't...

i won't be drinking the beer...
god forbid...
once upon a time it was... down to...
the muscles from brussels...
jean-claude van ****... ****: van damme...
salute to: coors light...
the magic of movies is...
well... long gone... when the editorial process
took over with its epileptic editing
of scenes - multitasking...
what of the ol' movies and the panoramic
stage: lasting at least a minute...
before the horses... came into contact
with cowboy hats, the reins and stirrups!

british *** bonanza on: ****** ibiza...
or some other island in the mediterranean:
i was never a part of...
i could be drinking expensive *****...
and... love the taste...
but i'm more of a co-op whiskey brand
leech... the threshold is passed
and i forget inhibited sober moi...
and the price is... pointless minding
the same bass beginning...
i quiet like the drunk me -
no amount of anorexic champagne will
bother me: to...
do whatever is not necessary...

a twist then...
the current song chosen by the coors light
advert?
swimming in snow? no jean-claude van damme?

FooR x Majestic x Dread MC - Fresh (Official Video)...
will i be buying some coors light beer?
when the wiseguys came out to support
the graeae frogs: the syllables bud-wise-err...
did i buy more budweiser?
i was a teen... i probably did...
but then... i read the label...
you're making ***** from rice and not
a note of hops?
***** ching and changer blood bribe...

if i'm not going to buy the beer...
because...
eh... 18.66 stones on 6ft2... doesn't look that
much walrus... as...
a fresh cucumber chinese soup that all i've eaten today...
the better excuse is: thick bones...
but alcohol is... or becomes:
lazy muscle... it's bloat: but it's not blubber...
fat...

apparently 18K people know this reference point...
me buying budweiser or coors light is like
me buying fat-free yogurt...
not going to happen...
thank god whiskey is not supposed to be
meddled with "light" alternatives...

to have found oneself curating for the most
fickle crowd - happily donning the solo project...
to drink without a self to drag along...
to "later mention":
to be a shadow boxer or a stair-chaser on
all fours...
to be a meddling cat owner...
whatever the name is deserved...
the tombstone silence: an expansion of
a yet to be written epitaph by a stranger...
i imagine... and there have been several
graveyards i've visited...
finding a grave with an epitaph...
is a bit like finding a unicorn...
then again... there was a nietzsche and his
book of aphorisms...
which probably exhausted the chance
for a many a people to gravestone gravity their
past and currency of a present "now"...
with a escape from both names
and dates of birth and blessed death-day...
an epitaph...
but not unless you are on a diet
of someone else's maxims...
truths that probably never come into a fruition...
as: foremostly observed... too...
and secondly... in concordance of agreed to.

candles ward off bad dreams,
and ward off old men and women
from waking in the night...
don't ask me how I came across
culture's
               harder than the rest
album,
   my Jamaican drug dealer
said I listened to culture
  when I started listing my
discography, inheritance
Marley... Ziggy, Damien,  Stephen...
Israel Vibration...
somehow urban ****** via
rap... always had too much blind
about it...
to counter rap I had to look
into sclerosis blanca...
    skunk thread, skinny scalps...
you know the sort...
Cockney wiseguys
who didn't sing along to:
say ooh la la say sum...
c'mon c'mon...
           primal sin...
and when her younger sister
walked down the stairs...
and her 14 year old glee...
then there and then:
my muse, untouchable...
    no beauty in the eye of the beholder...
save for a needle's eye,
and a life, worth a string thread
to replace footprints
on what remains
the enigma of the Thames' murky tide...
before the sidewinder serpent
on the dunes...
man walking on a beach,  
on the buffer zoning,
on god's land...
           harvester of mortality,
and the immortals' insomnia....
forever my muse: the prior to yah...
obviously having ******
one sister would be bothersome
******* another...
and the I was, thinking
that Sienkiewicz's novel
krzyżacy would be mezmo...
******* colt knight of a hot-head
zbyszko ruined the whole
****** novel...
   me waiting for teutonic monks...
giving bombastic speeches
of contradictory celibacy....
the germanic older brother
of the anglo saxon *** tease jokes
that became a complete ******* flop...
but given the medieval scenario...
if she wasn't married off
by her late teens,
  she would be deemed desolate...
inheritance tax in the current year
worth no more, than taboo...
    a first laid upon sight...
voyeurism of omni-
   qualities, hidden behind the extensive
walls of mirror(s)...
             concentrated lust,
best ascribed to a seasonal diet of:
and english strawberry in summer months,
watered down moths of flavour,
Iberian, in the wintry clot of:
what of bear as mammal,
   easing into hibernation?
   observing the natural hierarchy...
man is incomplete, in that he hasn't
adapted to the benefits of 1 dimensional
honing expenditure...
the whale a mammal,
the bear a mammal,
the former a fish,
the latter an insect...
                         transcending categories
of OCD humanists...
                   bear the remant of
a lazy bird...
   who learned to hibernate,
rather than migrate...
      out of the Alaskan tundra...
****... keep your out of Africa narrative...
and take your brown Jesus with you,
while you're at it.