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.                         A
                     Tiny hat
                My forefathers
            Humble beginnings
        I somewhat envy them bec
Ause then,they had their own styl
          E with self made values
          And rules not trying to
          Copy others but living
          in utmost grace and si
          mplicity.though I woul
          dn't want to live back;
          in those days,I respect
   The strength of my forefathers
   Their intellect and wisdom,yes.
I feel like glass
No that's wrong because you can still see reflections in glass
I feel like air 
No that's wrong because you can still see light through air
I feel like words
No that's also wrong because you can at least hear words when they are spoken
I guess that I am vacuum because when you look at me it's like nothing is here 
But wait 
I dot blame you directly for that I blame him
Yes your boyfriend if that's what you want to call him 
From this point in I'm going to call him your keeper 
Because although you feel he loves you
last night the things I saw were not love but anger in his eyes and fear in yours 
As I resisted the gut wrenching feeling to express to his face the emotions that flowed through me I held back in contempt
I held back to protect you from being hurt that I would do such a thing to him and keep him from ******* and complaining to you
Now I may not understand love 
But I have a pretty good idea and when I can be told from the other side of the country by the last person in the world I woul expect to say this 
That he does not love you but rather loves the feeling of controlling you for him it is like a drug he gets that high when he knows that you do what he wishes 
He gets a high from knowing that even when he ***** up that you will forgive him in the morning an not because he deserves it but because you fear him leaving 
I understand that you love him but his love for you faded long ago for him now it's just empty words he says to keep you on his hook
The way I look at you is in fear that I may never show you what love really is and that you will be stuck listening to his twisting words as he continues to control your life
That shouldn't be  my problem but it is because I love you and I fear for when he lets go 
A man very close to me once told me that a man who controls a woman's life is no real man and that a man who allows her to live her how she wants and is still there for her is the man she truly deserves
Now I'm not saying I'm better than him
But I am saying that he controls you I've seen it your friends have seen it your parents have seen but we all kept quiet trying not hurt you but I believe know because he has left that although this may hurt to read that it is time someone showed you the difference without him being able to twist it
I believe that now is the time when you must wake up and realize that he does not love you but loves controlling you 
I hope you realize that he's just trying to be your 
Keeper

I will forever love you MLG
Like a bouncing putty, I can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!

From roses to doses,
They did, they do and are done watering roses with alcohol.
Since I was conceived my blood is that much of methanol and that disturbs my devotion.
She had turned her womb, my temporary home into an ocean of *****.
From which i was swimming in whisky,
As much as this is risky, I was sleeping on bedrums.
At times I woul'd feel drums booming such that my heart skips beats,
But still pump methanol, my source of oxygen.

She had turned her womb into a savannah biome,
My life was dry but still i survived.

What a beautiful galaxy within which I existed?
Made of Heineken stars and clip drift ropes,
That keeps on drifting and leaves me tipsy!

Like a bouncing putty, I can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!

I wonder if Black labels is the reason i am black?
If my birth in autumn would be ascribed to autumn harvest?
Only lucky Brandy is my name, rather than smin off spin.

Like a stranger in his own element,
For my first foot steps I waddled, twisted and turned.
For my first blood test, mother came back in mascara ***** tears
Not because I was positive neither negative but alcoholic.
my blood is invalid, that is the product of the woman in *****.

Like a bouncing putty, i can still bounce.
Look at me, I can dance.
I am not drunk,
Just only a bit tipsy,
I am chemically off balance!
beth winters Dec 2010
i want to scream you through my mouth.
i don't have to exist any longer, as sun
shine or stretched clothing that doesn't
fit any longer, the shirts in your drawer,
the scarves fumbled with and discarded
underneath the stairs of a community c
ollege. if you want this, would you tell m
e. i don't have to step outside this door,
not once or twice without you. because,
of course, there are better things. i don
't think i make any more sense than pre
tty birds that cheep unicorn songs, and
grow shelters for their green-houses. i
could write you a song, if you'd like.

when the sun shines for the second tim
e, i'll let you know. right now the clouds
are labelled grey, and drawing islands i
n the discovering sand does not remedy
seasonal blues unaffected by the medic
ation of your smile and racing for play-g
round swings that cut up my thighs any
way. if i could put you on repeat, i woul
d, but life ain't youtube, and people ain
't paintings you can put in a frame and
hang on the wall, they ain't songs you
can listen to until you go cross-eyed wi
th giddiness. i'm not new anymore, i'm
words i've already written, places i've
already been, i am people unfamiliar b
ecause i've talked to them for so long.
betterdays Nov 2014
it was only a little house,
two bedrooms, small in space, a kitchen, bathroom
and living area..
some woul call it quaint,
others run-down and dilapidated...

...but it was
a happy place....even if it
sat alone ...bar a jacaranda tree...out in the middle of
a drygrass sea...

on the outside, the paint
had peeled and the boards
had begun to warp...
the yard was dry brown
grass and dryer red dust,
the roof, corrugated tin
was dull with age....

the door, was once painted
a bright hopeful blue
but now faded like old
denim... on the verandah
two chairs a table.....and
an old cattledog....
the bell, a suprising ******...


but inside that ramshackle
house... that stood by luck
and will alone....

was a home....filled to the brim with love....
the old couple who lived there...
still held hands ....still looked
at each other with love and
longing.....still danced to the old record player most nights....
still slept wrapped in each others arms....
still bickered and fought
then made up....with a lasting passion....
still wished for, more days
together in the sun....

these are my memories
of my aunt beth and uncle
wilf.....
and the house,
they made a home....
out in the middle of nowhere....
for marian's. challenge #1.
we only went to visit these relatives, childless, but so
entrancing a handful of times .....they made an impression....
the title....is not the true address of the farm...but more an allusion to the moral held loosely within these words.....the outside
does not ever portray the inside....of a book, house or indeed a human being....
not meaning to be patronizing....just explaining
myself.
allie downing Jul 2013
swapping our days past for gas masks. your excuses are weak. but you are not, you are strong. we never speak long about the things you feel. we linger on my stresses and strains - they are real but , we find comfort in their pettyness glazed over with brief happiness the day-to-day norm the calm that cant see the storm.
fog blankets us on the hill as the rain shifts to show the lands where terror reigns. it pains me to see you shrug it off, day dreaming is not enough. let time drift, let him slip coz you wont miss him like i do. He is not a weapon he is a friend, how can people find their heaven as a means to yourend

time flys in your company. you and me, the only thing we **** is time and there's none of that to waste you a saving grace. a friendly face, you live life at a different pace but we race through our occational days dreaming up ways to seamingly live and be free you and me, that perfect company.

trying to master the art of the perfect raspberry whilst drinking hot chocolate, to most its not much but you never fail to make me laugh. weather fails to dampen spirits even a gail woul bring a good time with it.
we concluded we cant ice skate with bruises and feet that ache talking late over hot drinks but its half a years worth of winks before i see you again. i dont mind coz when i do its like theres been no gap, weve got big plans, camping and the zoo me and you, we fit and i know you have to leave but believe me its **** to see you walk away to being another half a years worth of days away.
Clayton Woolery Dec 2010
overcast life not worth the open eyes
i need to rise above these clouds and lies
its overgrown and overdone
this way we go about
with chapels and tradition
rituals and true religion
why do we not fear these things?
tornadoes in the making
tsunami waves breaking
is it ever worth it all
overload

God wouldn't want this
God would'nt want this
God woul'dnt want this
God wou'ldnt want this

hideous mistakes and earthquakes
man has made a mess
blood and broken glass
and crusaders in the rain
overthrow the superficial
revolt yourself from overlords
floods in the making
covenants breaking
why do we not fear these things?
is it ever worth it all
overthought
love others as you would wish them to love you
KnudsonK Jul 2013
Not one day becomes  anew,
without her having thoughts of you...
It  wouldn’t matter when or where...
...without even a trigger,
The thought would be there’.
In Fact....
For the entire time that she’s  alive,
not a single night goes by
That the moon doesn’t
Shine amongst  the stars in the sky
With out her asking, to her self,”WHY?”
She’ll ask of other’s for a while-
Who never  make it past denial.
And they’ll call your death a big mistake
You forgot how many pills to take.
She’ll  always wonder why they lied.
About the manner in which you died.
“Why ?” do they  torture the other with blame
Until nobody even dares mention your name.
There isnt a day or a night for the rest of her time  
that a memory of you
doesn’t come to her mind.
When  everyone else  woul be fast asleep ,.
She’d  go to her window
Where she’d  weep..
Trying to make sense of  each and every word
about your death that she heard.
She obsesses on any and all  thats been said.
But  they race and they spin and  they mess with her head.
No one can be trusted to give the  answer thats real,
Every tear is a cut that will never heal.
She knew she was more helpless
With each new wound that bled
She just wanted so badly to be  with you instead.        
                                             On her knees,beside her bed,
she saddly bowed her little head
and
resights the prayer the two of you said.
                        She clasps her hands and close  her eyes real tight
and pray that she could be with you tonight
and you’d  hold her ,you’d  tell her it ‘ll all  be alright .
On her broken spirit you’d shed some light
                              So that a glimps of  hope might  be in her sights
She’d stay up all night in  a pitch black room
with the shadows that she sees in the light of  the moon
thinkin its that times she gets to  spend with you
If ever  a wish she has happens to come true,
she believes with all her heart .that its because of you.

The Sad Fact is that through out  All her years,..
She won’t get that your the cause of her fears
your the heartache that wouldn’t wash away with her tears
and it’s You who’ll be the pain that never disappears .

Even  If no one ever again says your name,
you made your middle and her’s the same.
So along with that she‘ll always carry a sense of blame...
Why would you leave her to have live feeling  this shame.
No matter what she does that  will be the part of you that remains.


Guilt she’ll never find a way to erase,
She’ll look in the mirror and see your face, and
think your looking back at her with disgrace
And she long for a mother she can never replace.

For a mom she’ll never really know
For the love that couldn't grow
And the Love she’ll never be able to show.
Because she'll fear  that loving  is what will make love go
  As soon as she does,it has no reason to stay.
All she’s ever loved has been
Taken away.
Everything she believed in ...was all just pretend,
she wont be able to trust in anything again.
It was all for what,?What was it for?
Did you get the things you wanted more?
Did you proove some point you were trying to make?
Do you feel you made a huge mistake?
If you coulld go back and do it again...
.knowing what you didn’t know then.
Would you take it all back,would you find a way?
She’d be so happy if you would just stay.
There are alot of things in life We wish we could undo....
Do you think you’d  do it differently if you only knew?
CommonStory Apr 2014
If I wrote suicide note...
It wouldn't be a love letter
If I wrote a suicide note
Would you be in it
Would it sadden your conviction
Would you be my hopeful light that made me leave with a smile
If you read the note
Would tear ducts flow
Would you caring make a difference
Woul I be pushed aside or would it be more delibrate
If I wrote a suicide note
Do you think I would end it
Would life crush me to the point
Thyat I would morlly want to end it
When you read it and the truth spilled out
Could it make or brake your attention
My hateful restitution
My loving resolution
What would be the reason
Today or tomorrow
If you wrote a suicide note
Would i be in it or make the difference





Have you ever thought every consequential second me just exsisting or emotions thick as resin
Would you cry knowing I did. The guilt would it **** you that I lived and you weren't around to care or do anything about it. If you were there and tried as hard as you could and love me with warmth and not responsibility as I would you. I left it in the note as my best and worst
Michal Czechak Apr 2016
[Author's Note: These are song lyrics.]

When I'm pining for the power to yield
Breaking all the branches I seize
Acres for the taking in a forest of mistakes
I can't see for the trees

I level
With the shallow playing field
Dreaming up a blueprint to floor you
Delicately drafting
Inconspicuously crafting
The grand facade before you

Where my art lies

The best is underwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I promised I woul...

So I'm peeking past the pitch of my prime
Modeling the modern stage
Perforating patience with a paradox
In place of where the sophist meets the sage

I level
With the hallowed bottom line
Hopeful like the point of a nail
Architecture fractures
In apocalyptic rapture
Where false frameworks prevail

There my heart lies

The beat is overwhelming
When it comes to helping
How I swore I could

I guess I'm knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood

Excess
Will not lead to progress
Will not let me access
What I learned I should
Rid me of

Termites
Crawling into airtight
Trademarks of my disguise
Make me decide I'm good

When I'm just knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood
Knock knock knocking on wood


© Michal Czechak 2016
KnudsonK Sep 2013
Not one day becomes  anew,
without her having thoughts of you...
It  wouldn’t matter when or where...
...without even a trigger,
The thought would be there’.
In Fact....
For the entire time that she’s  alive,
not a single night goes by
That the moon doesn’t
Shine amongst  the stars in the sky
With out her asking, to her self,”WHY?”
She’ll ask of other’s for a while-
Who never  make it past denial.
And they’ll call your death a big mistake
You forgot how many pills to take.
She’ll  always wonder why they lied.
About the manner in which you died.
“Why ?” do they  torture the other with blame
Until nobody even dares mention your name.
There isnt a day or a night for the rest of her time  
that a memory of you
doesn’t come to her mind.
When  everyone else  woul be fast asleep ,.
She’d  go to her window
Where she’d  weep..
Trying to make sense of  each and every word
about your death that she heard.
She obsesses on any and all  thats been said.
But  they race and they spin and  they mess with her head.
No one can be trusted to give the  answer thats real,
Every tear is a cut that will never heal.
She knew she was more helpless
With each new wound that bled
She just wanted so badly to be  with you instead.        
                                             On her knees,beside her bed,
she saddly bowed her little head
and
resights the prayer the two of you said.
                        She clasps her hands and close  her eyes real tight
and pray that she could be with you tonight
and you’d  hold her ,you’d  tell her it ‘ll all  be alright .
On her broken spirit you’d shed some light
                              So that a glimps of  hope might  be in her sights
She’d stay up all night in  a pitch black room
with the shadows that she sees in the light of  the moon
thinkin its that times she gets to  spend with you
If ever  a wish she has happens to come true,
she believes with all her heart .that its because of you.

The Sad Fact is that through out  All her years,..
She won’t get that your the cause of her fears
your the heartache that wouldn’t wash away with her tears
and it’s You who’ll be the pain that never disappears .

Even  If no one ever again says your name,
you made your middle and her’s the same.
So along with that she‘ll always carry a sense of blame...
Why would you leave her to have live feeling  this shame.
No matter what she does that  will be the part of you that remains.


Guilt she’ll never find a way to erase,
She’ll look in the mirror and see your face, and
think your looking back at her with disgrace
And she long for a mother she can never replace.

For a mom she’ll never really know
For the love that couldn't grow
And the Love she’ll never be able to show.
Because she'll fear  that loving  is what will make love go
  As soon as she does,it has no reason to stay.
All she’s ever loved has been
Taken away.
Everything she believed in ...was all just pretend,
she wont be able to trust in anything again.
It was all for what,?What was it for?
Did you get the things you wanted more?
Did you proove some point you were trying to make?
Do you feel you made a huge mistake?
If you coulld go back and do it again...
.knowing what you didn’t know then.
Would you take it all back,would you find a way?
She’d be so happy if you would just stay.
There are alot of things in life We wish we could undo....
Do you think you’d  do it differently if you only knew?
Tins Nox Dec 2011
If I asked, would you write me a song?
If I begged, woul you string me along?
Is it possible for you to hold me close?
Is it possible for you to let me go?

If you bought me flowers, and they withered up and died,
Would you buy me more,
Or hold me as I cried?

If I ran away from you, would you chase after me?
Or would you remain where you were
And rely on trust, patiently?

If I did not want your words, would you show them to me still?
Or give me something else instead,
That cures me like a pill?

If I could not show you love would you love me still despite?
Or would you finally have enough,
And leave me then, the end in sight?

If I asked, would you know?
If I asked, would you go?
Is it possible for this to succeed?
Is it possible to fill this need?
Let’s take a trip deep on a ride
Into the mothership as i dip
into my minds conscious
flyin’ at light Speeds greed
fiend for the good life strife
seemed to followed me
troubles all in me
Cant get away from my enemies
since i was born
i was destined to die no lie cries
from my soul and heart tellin’ me not to part
Its demons vs demons
They tag teamin' day dreamin' im schemin’
lookin' for the position to plot
so my body can rott
deep in hell **** the holy grail as i sail
into another dimension need i mention
i got homies that want to join me two
so why don’t you too?
Uh aint nobody gonna miss you boo
So i look to
all types of weaponry to choose from then some
m-14,m-16 380 9s,to 249s
saws graphic i can’t wait til i be covered in plastic
white sheets visions to *****
so i had to be censored
not even the devil knew me
I know nobody woul feel me
kiss with death n soon we'll be one of a kind
feel the pressure from my brain cells to my spine
urgin’ for the flat line ,
Quarter pass 12 am in the morning
no yawning
load the clip up time for me to shut up
bullet to my head {Pops off} im glad im dead
body red stiff as a log as the maggots feed
off my flesh
I became a denominator
Cuz death seems much greater
now im restin’ scornfully
released my demons now they roamin’ freely
Prepare for the eulogy  G
Mohd Arshad Apr 2014
If
He had asked me
My last wish
I woul have said
One more kiss
Dallas Allen Jul 2014
Parents, you must understand
That I do no wish I be alive,
But will not die by my hand
For acceptance and happiness I strive

I desire to be accepted for myself
And strive to be happy so others
Are not depressed by my wasted self
To be happy is a challenge, why bother

For my sisters I still draw breathe
For they woul not understand my death
But you should know my life
Is not lived for myself
Things you need to say to your parents but cannot because they wouldn't be able to handle it
zap-man Mar 2015
fly
imagine we could fly
just reach out and touch the sky
what a dream that woul be indeed
none
Jolene Heather Oct 2014
The first moment I out eyes met
an image that is forever burned into my memory
If I grow old
and forget everything else in this world
I am sure to be haunted by that moment
I could paint it from memory right now
Your stance
your smile
but mostly your eyes
They are what burn in my mind
all the little things that flash in my mind of you
they are all behind this image of your eyes
They leaped at me...
Literally
That one second was a million year
It was as though a voice whispered
"this is a soul you must know".
If I were to paint this moment
to capture the color that burned behind your eyes
I woul .not be able to do
They haunt me daily
piercing me
demanding I spill myself to you
And I can not hope to hold back
no matter how hard I try
My soul just opens to yours

What purpose is there to meeting such a soul
Such a moment
if nothing is to come of it...

Why were you even dropped into my life.
Sudharshan Aug 2017
Maybe, I was never meant to stay. Especially, when you wanted me to. I have always been interested in walking, running, and chasing memories out of everyone. The distance to me is minimal yet it seems like a walk of a lifetime, for every step you take towards me, I take a step back. We are in a loop and no stars in the sky will fall into our constellation.

It still hurts that I left and you could do nothing about it. It still does. In my serene days and in my senile nights. Every time, there is a whisper or an echo of your name, I am crushed beneath the pain of guilt. The idea of staying intrigues me, and you know this. You know it that one day I will stop running and settle down. Make a home out of the hotel rooms. I remember your smile and your frown. Your white sandals as you slipped your feet into them and the fringes of your hair with the wind cutting through your hair. What must have hurt is that we talked about me leaving. And I laughed. I laughed to cover the smell of pain I would leave behind.

And you could do nothing when I left.
It was a choice I made. I always looked back, and you were there, your hands buried between your palms.

I liked three sugar cubes in my coffee. You wouldn’t know the reason, and I cannot risk to tell you my secret of sanity.

There is so much you would never know about me. What I did to keep myself sane. Why stars spoke to me about their loneliness, why the fields cried out to caresses my feet, why the thorns thirsted for blood, why laughs after 3 AM were of sadness that woul follow, why I couldn’t continue another day at 7 PM, why I never followed your footsteps to develop attachment, why people who broke me were broken too, why the sunrise always reminded me of suffering, why I was scared of being alone with myself, and leaving without painful goodbyes and why I always preferred three sugar cubes in my coffee to poison the bitterness in me. Three, every time.

Maybe, you would never understand me. Maybe, you would have understood the galaxies inside me, and made a home in there
First one
Ulises Dec 2014
It was so hard to see US fall apart, Knowing that within hours our hearts woul break , but we
     really had no choice .
Both of us gave up,neither wanted to admit its faults & we said goodbye Both with sadness in our voice.    
                        
I sat in my room for days looking back, searching for the moment when we let go and the distance
         between us arose.
I get nothing just a bunch of beautiful Memories that only made me cry And feel the full
     weight of my loss. 

Its been close to a year now
now And i am still trying to
**** the memories Of your warm
and sweet  embrace.
Still trying to forget you but my mind Wont let you go, and no matter what I do my heart is not  a different case.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2020
how many vaccinations do i remember?
some called chicken-pox a virus infection
of children....
so if one child contracted the virus
the neighbours' child was exposed
to it: so it went under the iron curtain...

but i did receive vaccination for
those other in the triad: Odra...
measles?
         it's named a furry thing in one language
a river in another...
not the Vistula plague...
or the Varta plague riddling posing-nan?
Possen?

i'm pretending to be all: fuzzy-brainz...
but... i do remember...
the mad-cow disease epidemic...
in england...
and what arrived after:
meningitis... in the realm of youth...
i remember going to school like
nothing was going to happen...
it didn't... meningitis took grip of my neighbour's
brain... expected bullock-freeze...
yes... it was real...
phantom stranger! how are you?
after all: pandemic sounds less sinister
than epidemic ever will...
i'm actually tired of the narratives
from both aisles of furroging for antics...
more like broken limbs...
but when meningitis was rife...
and there was a vaccine on the ready...
nothing stopped...
life preserved itself: continued...

lucky for me to be writing from england...
after all the bombing from
the media Hindenburg sinking
for seemingly years upon years concerning
the topic of Brexit...
i much prefer recycling in...
well by now ol' nature is just
a boring **** of scents...
summer come the zenith
winter the nadir...

if it only woul could feel authentic...
again: subjectivity is not...
"necessary"? it's sub-human sub-optimal?
no? if it could feel authentic...
then what the ****'s worth of use
do i have with thoughts that
objectively "sound" yet always tend to
masequerade around brining me
a ******* margueritta!

what good is a line of argument:
surrounding doubtful thinking...
yes... "once upon a time":
it "feelz": yes... a certainty of heart is above
all else a certainty of self...
the mind is a ******* lost labyrinth
of do i, don't i, be i, bitten *******
ripple effects rife!

meningitis was real...
the young were affected...
there was a vaccination we all took
in school:
they pretended to call it:
brain-freeze of: fatty-brainz-does-do-d'ah...
but... **** on me:
the panic button is frozen...
re-setting:
back toward alley candle working
our way from the Edison project...
nice... ******* Kazakhstani and all!

point being: who are the orcs...
the ugly trolls... the nazis?!
i suppose almost everyone!
           i've been assured to comply:
2 weeks homebound...
i've had a garden to tend to...
some decorating d.i.y. work... no problem...
big on the HBO show SUCESSION...

grandfather just died i'll heave
my mother being angry at the world:
i'll just take down my uncle and my grandmother...
no biggy...
happy are those who's relatives haven't /
or have yet to: die in this... "crisis"...

meningitis was a real fear:
but we, *******, ploughed along!
now a ******* cockroach is the scary "bit":
the bit of temporal sacrifice where:
you don't ******* eat it?
i wouldn't dare to **** a fly...
i would... however... dare to catch one
with my forehead...
and then flick it into a spiderweb...
how's that?

i'm tired listening to either side of
the argument...
when a ponent disease of rot brain appeared
and coincided itself with bad beef
because the cows were infected with
a bug that made them appear to be drunk /
english girls... cows...
in those would come harrowing new:
redundencies of urban gob: a Leicester high-street
excursion...
how they would drink, dress up skimpy:
and eat nothing but bones and dust:
you'd ask... some marrow?
no would come the reply...

mind you: it's not like i would ever
find myself eating out...
the odd friday with the need for
the chippy... and some cod...
but... i would never eat out...
did that once... off camden town high street
from one of these chinese vendors...
had the ***** for 3 hours...
i never eat out because i...
well: i'll sooner trust ******* into my hands,
then ******* into them...
then fiddling through some ****...
then washing them...
before i attend to preparing some
food...
it doesn't affect me because:
i don't / nor ever have... eaten to be seen...
i'm not a lion and what i'd be eating
wouldn't be a hunted down gazelle...
would it?
so what's the ******* point
of window-shopping food in reverse?
what's this fetish for eating in public?
in public... yeah...
as in... in victorian times...
the ****** junkies would congregate
into a hush-lazy "paragraph"?

maybe we should show all th slaughterhouses!
eating in public... all that 20th century
existential narcissism leveraging the french:
to be is to be seen...
minus the restaurant antics...
call me old fashioned but:
the only food i like to it...
is the food i cook myself...

would i like to extend that into
hunting for my food...
it's the 21st century...
unless for a delicacy...
but... i rather like to cook the food
i'm about to eat...

eating in public... pigeons eat in public...
or a variation of that...
can i extract a proverb from all
of this akin to:
better a sparrow in your hand,
than a dove on your roof?

last time i heard the arguments
for abortions could extend into genocide:
like... i ******* and the ***** is...
flushed down into the toilet with
the crocodiles... an act of genocide...
but... in the "meantime"...
the abortion clinic rife from
the already waiting... pre-automation
fake herr hirsch and frau hirsch robo...
you know...
where do you clog the details of life
with these people?
tending to the late abortion:
it's a dandy day to be down syndrome?!
imagine a placing of human muscular
nd jaw abiding...
because i'm not a plumber...
i'm also... not tending to the farm
of goo and skittles...
rephrase that, as i must...

who's the genius behind...
oh... right... Barr... it's no IRN BRU...
but it's most ******* certainly cream soda...
i just imagine if Barr and Krupp had
a collaboration projects...
bombs made from carbonated sugar bomb
**** boom boom explosions of fizz!

we have to be talking about reinventing
abortion?
or... genocide... no?
if automation is to be forwarded... no?
fair enough if you tell the women:
no abominations!
some people: the polacks, backward people...
well... would you require christening
a cyclops? a brain-deadening
form that's not even a **** similis:
an ape replica: otherwise:
consent to abort! if th ancient ritual
of ****** are practised!
****? m'eh...
forget the cross: burden yourself
with moloch... which is...
a double-edged sword...
given all the kosher medicine...
all the sacrificed foreskins!
**** me... ed gein looks sorta pale and impaled
on his own cringe...
skin is skin...

so much for concerns when
there's "golf" that's to be incubated and...
involved... sorry... invoked...

how is there status quo... peeping-tommy...
there's an argument for the piggies
at the trough...
leveraging for needs of
the imploded concept of a passport...
such is this federal cwispy clean...
because it's no Relsh or Velsh:
or anything like Cornwall...

you don't need to go anywhere:
and anywhere is "anywhere":
chuck in the bums but not the incarcerated
by mr. bar and the lucid brigade...

milan kundera has more geographic "details":
the ural mountains and the Caucasian...
  what's what? cocky-asians?! whites?
whites are somehow ****-asians?
must be a new turkic plantative of
congregational dynamics of: usher in the whites!
the germanic peoples, the pedantic anglicans...
and the steppe mongrels and mongols...
the turks too!
let's all play that *******
monopoly game of: exodus africanus!

i lost the tan...
how did i get the squinting
the ******* on the lemon bit?!

otherwise...
which is probably east...
belarus and ukraine...
but germany is never noted as...
the vest...
austria: eastern-***** is still: vest...
central europe doesn't translate for
the anglophones... or, rather...
it never existed to begin with...
esp. under the guise of the toilet paper
mache of herr neville chamberlain...
no... not ever: nor would be...

in Ypres... oh how hollow tusk of ivory
those graves: indented with
hallow / hollow epitaph esque signatures...
and they stand: shoulder to shoulder...
withering amass in slabs of earth
extending for the onlooker's mile...
so pale... antidote misanthropic...
world war one...
and do they tell you how they
buried the central, ahem! ahem!
how they buried the germans?!
in mass graves... where the robin and the sparrow
still sings... mass graves that weren't
this ******* spectacle of past colonial endeavours...
where oak and pine,
birch... and brass took stand to root!

east is east my ******* closure!
east is by no means
the intricacy of the veins
of the danube...
hungary belongs to the huns...
watch me... concerning myself
with the ottoman reconquista...
this is, "now":
the ottoman reconquista, no?
**** my pork under-salted...
the grand orator is missing the mark
when history is being governed by
a hard--on escaping the promises
of secular bull.......... ****?!

two tongue a piece:
i never spiked one tongue above
a contesting Machiavellian brooding
over a furrowing of brows...
above another...

this eastern bloc?
and the federalised states of h'america?
because this is; surprising history!
lithuania and latvia...
30+ million people just...
oops... "forgotten"?
****-proud of cuckoldry of
the desired... voices
of the proud: teasing vaginas!
the ******* get your mongol-pseudo
gizmos from?
a soho proud ***** deposit?!

how does a ***** bank work...
concerning the dichotomy
of credit                    /                 debit?!
is that dichotomy even fease(a)ble?
worst for sawn-off worse for dicta:

yes... my teeth are by no means...
extending toward the exploration
tendencies of bone: via an x-ray...
by demand of a non-persuasive argument...
by teeth are furry... they are furry with an itch...
they are... i have itchy teeth because:
i'm a limp-**** impersonato...
a castrated wow from a harem
of a harem... of the castrated lobotomies
of phallus endowed...
entertaining the sugar-coated
princesses... tease angelic etc...
blah blah, blah... lost toy *****...
aber?! gott ist einz! mit unz!

with an east bought: this austrian
closure... forever flimsy baron...
flaking amnesia...
no you scratch my back i
scratch: how about my fingernails
task themselves over the details
over your gravestones
having no epitaphs like
blitzkriegs concerning them...

verbiage of the dritte-*****:
modus operandi gucci or some other
borrowed tailor from
the league of lombardy?
    
/ / /  nothing concerning "stupid"....
but when one is being interrupted
with a..  b'ah b'ah internet
connectivity...
when one's lightbulbs are in play...
leauge of own's own: slo-mo...
******* where money
become daffodil sprouts...

don't i: oh yes... that's where i
know "where":
and towing "know"
i have to attempt to white lie:
a... borrow. / / / /

that i rarely dream...
picking up a body from the grave:
clinging to me like a hurt puppy...
apparently a resurrection:
i deigned to believe i was peeling
my own skin off...
walking him in my arms
back to his home:
peering through a window
that acted like a mirror
into someone else's home...
then seeing this resurrected
body get back to a healthy
b.m.i.
while eating raisins using
toothpicks...
switch to a day later...
perhaps the face is the same...
but the eyes are sinister...
glowing amber...
the first time eyes have
taken prominence in my dreams...
prior to: teeth...
then a haunting sequence...
i'm being asked
to ***** a ladybird with a needle:
purple smoke comes
out with the deed:
the house is apparently cleansed
from "voodoo"...
i guess this all comes back
to the night before:
sitting in the garden
wanting to remember a face
that formerly contorted with
expressions bound
to a still apparent: eucalyptus tree...
but i still had
to take this body from
the crave clinging to me
like either a hurt puppy
or some aberration of skin...
i wondered whether i'd remember
this dream even if i kept it
in the back of my mind
and attempted the daily:
curating the garden one last
time before winter finally
succeeds...
well... that's that.
Jeanne wegner May 2018
It came as a shock... all of it. The long conversation, the passionate kiss, the weeks succeeding. A whirlwind romance ridden with secrecy and shame. I found comfort in your words and feared the prospective ones of others. Our last moments, perhaps the sweetest of them all were conversational, flirtatious, endearing, and romantic. Our last kiss a perfect harmony of strong passion, and slow bliss. Perhaps if I had known what the next hours woul bring I would have pulled my head back down to your chest. I would’ve let your lips linger a moment longer on my own. It is in hindsight that I find the most sadness, but also the most joy.
Salmabanu Hatim Aug 2019
If you learn to love without expectations  life woul be simpler and easier.
17/8/2019

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