i keep, and keep, and keep trying
to put on the most sane face... **** me...
   listening to abba's super trouper?
this ***** isn't strong enough...
are these people really
the capitalists they deem themselves
to be?
   they're not reading into
the nah hammadi jesus crap,
are they?
   they must be! so much money in
that flesh, beginning with judas!
            now it feels like another whiskey
short, a mixer withou ice-cubes' worth
of a mixer...
             who the silly billy?
    last time i checked i wasn't named
the billio the reminder.
cares for the bored 'uns...
                     so too, minutes
later: with the scandinavian spandex...
          strut strut or so do the magic dance
invoking the fly-by of a yellow
submarine?!
           talk to me! come one!
   tell me whether there's an eye
                                in an oyster shell!
              glasgow? you live 3 years
in edinburgh,
is a bit like living in london,
imagining birmingham:
no river - no flow -
             islamabad up yer ****...
what?! got that wrong?
you sure? isn't ozzy placed in
a californian mansion?!
            maybe i got that one wrong too...
am i perfect? no...
   would i like to be?
can i be perfect and not write insolent verse?!
no? in that case.... no!
an outer-londoner about birmingham":
hardly a venice, let alone an amsterdam,
or a st. petersburg:
                       no river? no flow!
they dared to call edinburgh the athens
of the north...
  well... birmingham is the islamabad of
the the north... what?!
never ate a red cabbage cumin infused
coleslaw? ******* racist...
   get with the grit & grime of sharing
alt. social normatives...
             you ******* preached it,
mr. bankrupt post-colonial-stress-disorder
(p.c.s.d.) - & ms. blackpool
                                 wanking handy!
what?! not so handy any more? not so
pleased with interruptions from non-colonial
countries?
      oh shay shay, tiresome missy,
aren't you the proper wanked over
  pauper... ms. east-london,
ms.: the grit-&-grind-of-whitechapel...
& that eager chopping worded phrase for
'ackney... poor you!
  oh look... wait! wait!
let me get a cabbage leaf out to imitate
a tissue to cry into!
the english? in the roofing industry?
they're personnas non grata -
   no please, don't sent the english into the trade...
and my father? who did he learn
the trade of roofing from? picts! who?!
                       the scots!
the english are best attributed to their papa
darwin and their fetish for **** ***,
divorce, and having 2nd or 3rd wives,
and a pearly career...
                   as the sing-along of
polish children goes:
             angol pedał...
                                     angol pedał...
no, that's not verbatim...
  the original was better...
   even though the fact that my
little village team made it to the national
leage 1 in 1997 / 1998 -
and i manged to chant
          Ł.K.S.! JEBAŁ PIES!
funny... i was a football hooligan for
one afternoon...
           that feeling of beloning
has schtuck to me, like a leech...
consuming more than blood,
         i.e. memory fusion with thought.

In all my lonely rage
  I dreamed myslf alive
But I was still alone
So I dreamed a thousand dreams
  And they dreamed a thousand more
And their dreams gave birth to death
And death gave birth to life
And life gave birth to love
And love gave birth to blood
And blood gave birth to war
And war gave birth to man
And man was the first disease
  We ever found in dreams
So the dreams and I went back to sleep
  And we slept a thousand years
  And we will sleep withou a single dream
  Until this disease has died away
And we have learned to never
  Dream of man
    And mans
      Terrible ways

Life's a white blank page
Long, clean but empty
Withou you around
It's a disaster
You took your train
There's no looking back
Forever will roam
In search of thrill

~ WAR ~

When the rooster crowed, I stood there,
Hands ****** from the night before,
The dust settling, the bodies emerging,
Like waves of terror crashing upon the shore

I am only seven, there are many dreams I have yet to have
Like of the place where I used to live,
Where the skies were clear, and the sun was bright,
Now nothing seems to go right, even if I've given all I can give

My mother once said, "Bravest are the souls who fight the hardest battles,"
But mama, I'm no soldier
I'm merely a boy whose toys were ripped apart by the exploding shells
And whose life burn with ashes, fire and hell

I'm only seven, but I am no fighter....I just want

~ PEACE ~

You see that tall skyscraper over there?
I'm going to build one just like it someday,
But it will not be a touring spot on display...
it will be my castle, a fortress to stop all those in my way

I am only seven, but I know I have big dreams
To hold the most power in the room, to have the prettiest girl beside me,
Like the movies I have watched, the sky is the limit
And it might be a tad bit cliche but I'll make sure everybody sees it

Greed is not the word that I would exactly use,
But know that I will choose my happiness every single time
I'm not really a fan of violence either
But for this cause, exactly, I'm willing to commit crimes


*Kids who live without knowing peace, and kids who live withou knowing war, have different values