An X-ray  of ******* love

They were so soft.
The hands that took control and made the pace
Of the heart that race
Within the mess of a chest
That bravado expels

It was so open.
That mind that reduced his fears Induced tears
Used to indulged his idol chatter
Hitting my wordy pitches
Like a home run "Hey Batter Batter!!"

It felt so right
The places that exposed his **** faces
Things that spread, squeezed, and joy in **** tasting
An inserted pleasure burrowed deep from throat to waisted
Passed out drunk on love lust and **** filled vases

The peak was so brilliant
Joy ride till they collide out of control out of their minds
Writing vandalism like an equations broadside
"E=U & I" , could hate you in this day and time
But starve till withered away the day she ever said goodbye

The splash was so divine
Touched by her personal heaven
An angel as lucky like the # 11
He could never pretend or fake being insatiable.
The main source of his complexity

The view was so vast
A world of flat boring land waiting to be filled
Brought to life by their skills and the pursuit of a thrill
Would feel beheaded if ever they stood still
Feeding their frenzy and bending alls will (to their own)

The potency was such a rush
Too much oh so much, but oh so desired
Craving how much she'd  say " it's you I admire"
Toiling with brow to his navel, igniting the fire
The long kiss goodnight, made the morning quench of the sun a joy to the heart like her sweet face and loving
The monument by which praise and parade of her exploited flesh bare the quill to write paradise that he is inspired

The dream is much too real
While they watch the world turn and the masses conform
We struggle against the tide and tread the waves of the pass they morn
A lottery, marathon, playground, where many have entered her but only one can win the title of "Adored"

The now is not so much of then
They were them sometimes Every now and again engaged in moments when
Them they see and believe "you and me can be...."

But time sprints, and they limp, slower every aging step
Till times out of view and they're  out of breath
Bed bound but not the expected intent
For one is most attentive while the other lay mostly spent
But embraced they lay unchanged in any way
Still in love and still insane
Crazy for each others bane
Awake for the moon, and snooze through the rain
Gentle dreams of forbidden entry, daily flirt but never stray
Away, stay, away, plead for a day. Agreed then rinse, repeat
A treat for the sweet thoughts of the "use to be" but enjoyable right here, right now, someday is today

-Xin-

Ignored by a thought

I thought if I ignored him and
his request for spare change
his plight would fade away
And his face would fail my memory

I thought the night was differently quiet
Interrupted by clench of teeth,
****** holes and malice of man
Gun shot, pain, and the victim of a plan

I thought if I ignored the wound
The dream would change moods
The blood drop would be love knots
And the victim would be you

I thought if I ignored the flash of life
Mine would be spared
That the death to come would flee me
And instead you would be here

I thought of ignoring my persistence
And give in to the dark void
But then I thought of loving you
And fought to stay relevant

I thought of a lot of things
But never to give him the change in my pockets
Now I'm a prayer and a fading thought
Ignored by the passing crowd
A layer on the cake walk
An after note on your brow.....(Cont.)

Xin

He gives life
At that instant he takes your innocence
Born into sin
He gives hope
And in return takes away your faith in humanity
They say your born free
He gave us the power of choice
But takes our ability to deal with Its consequences
Gives us the love
Allowing he or she to take our breath away
Then give us the strain and tribulations
While taking our patience and tolerance
Yet our trust he demand
He gives us strength and confidence
All while stealing our youth
And leaving a bigger number at the end of every year
What good is wisdom if its carrying the baggage of age
What good is ambition if the goal is leaves you crippled
He gives us challenges that inevitably take our humility
He gives us beauty and talent
And in an instant takes our hair, teeth, and skin
But leaves us with wrinkles and bad posture and the hope to remain relevant
He gives us vanity and punish us the above mentioned
Gives us dream and sleepless nights
Let's us take chances but what is chance in a predestined existence?
Though we create art, music, literature, and monuments
He takes credit for its inspiration and crumbles what isn't in his tribute
Give homage or else
And no true artist is never prime unless there gone and buried
He gives  mercy in the form ******
And his miracle usually means escaping his wrath
Guess I'm ******* Hudini in his eyes
He gave us the vastness of the universe to gaze and only gave us a grain of sand to inhabit on his cosmic infinite beach
  Gives you a soul and let's you promise it to someone you love then betray that promise repeatedly by demanding its salvation in the end
Give you the end too soon after the beginning fades away
Takes advantage of your ego and feeds it temptation
Gives you indulgence to punish your self with
Then when all life concludes leaves you and your loved ones with what you were the day before your inception and the day after death
Nothing
So what is it you want me to praise you for?
Guess we'll discuss it if you ever catch us.
-XIN-

Knock knock
Who's there?
Mr.Harris
Mr. Harris who?


Mr. Harris whom lead women with elegance
Tied minds and hearts with verbal excrement
Pondered their looks as well as their flesh
Decided to touch which lead to a mess
For his brain and hands were shaky at best
Floundered around inside of their chest
Slicing and skinned the meat of the breast
The last thing they saw as they took their last breath
An extreme way to deal with life and its stress
Just a mad insane killer you couldn't reject.
Harris is the  man who is there at your door
Knock Knock! Who's there?  Not you any more.
Mr. Harris with blood on his shoes
Mr. Harass you that's who!
Love.
-Xin-

Jessica;
Behind close doors he was a cruel brute.
In the public view he smiled and spoke soft
Laid the trap with a simple hello.
Sprung it with a slash
Took his trophies and placed it in his stash
Tonight he stalk a petite country gal
A texan tone and expecting child
Brunette, fair skin and smile you could eat
Perky, quirky with dainty hands and feet
He sat in her car and stakeout her yard
Sneaked in her house while she bath and smelled her towels.
She was a standing appointment on his to do calendar
For 3 months he pondered how to handle her
Caress her flesh and kiss her toes
Asphyxiate! Hand over her mouth and pinch her nose.
Or
Suckle her perfect breast, brush her hair with short strokes
Look into her wide eyes, face to face, then slit her throat
She passed him on the train and he became,
Paralyzed by her fragrance, almost ashamed.
It became obvious, now that her baby bump showed
He had to **** her fast before it grew any more
And like that 9pm drew near and on his table she appeared.
She begged for her life but he didn't care "please I'm pregnant" I said I don't care
He chose option one for his method of ******
Soft and polite until life ignored her.
Now all left to do is to savor the taste of her essence
Then into the river and on to the next lesson
She was Jessica.
-Mr H.-


Bridgette:
This night his head ached, he sipped wine and ate
Clenched his brow and grunted and tried to concentrate
This night his heart ailed for a particular face
Some one he knew from a particular place
Blonde hair, tattooed skin and frequent bizarre encounters
A spunky one she was, always on an adventure
She constantly moved which made it a task to learn her
But he was persistent and eventually impaled her.
5 years he tracked her with laid roots just to leave again
He even befriended her friends. But nothing came through them
With every new home she kept, and new ink she bared.
He would be right there sharing her air.
A secret adoration, a crush, a unrequited love
He would scale walls to procure her safety and guard her till she was his alone.
Outside her window snapping photos and collecting her things
Setting coincidences and craving her limbs
He's sneaked in one night and restrained her to the bed
Counting her ink from her honey *** to the kissing undead.
Rubbing her hour glass and slicing through her haunted castle
Penetrating her clover and stabbing her dracula.
For she was his best creation.
He mourned as her flesh he torn
When it was all said and done every tattoo was massacred
Her body of work now a body of hurt
Bled out at the hands that knew her the most
From a distance so close from a distance so close
She was Bridgette
-Mr. H-

Jen:
She was so much more than a craving
More than a friend.
Its by accident that she met her end.  
They shared a bed, shared a home, shared there love
Now they share his secrets, but not her tomb
She stumbled on his collection of trinkets
And he confessed all thinking their bond and life together would lead to an exception
Shame on him, as to his surprise she screamed and grabbed a weapon
"who are you" she yell and ran to the door.
He screamed in response "I don't know but don't go"
Frantic she struggled with the door lock
Panicked he hit her face with the cutting block
Oops
She fell
So did his heart down his throat
This was his partner, his lover, his other half
In every day before his reason for life, his only plan
No way to recover this act of passion so he finished the job.  
Crying and kissing her asian lips
Squeezing her neck till she was gone gone gone.
She was Jen
-Mr. H-

Kaylani:
As he progressed and perfected his method
He broadened his pallet and obsessed on this venison
He heard her words sent men to their knees
Both in praise of her power and to lap at her Mahogany
She was clever and sharp like his finest cleaver
Voluminous in her cleavage, firm in her actions like a verb, Poison to her distractions
For him it was her words that overwhelmed his desires
Call to arms, yell to god,do my bidding and "I promise I'll be yours"
She wrote poems like he did, spoke truth like he do
Broke hearts like he could, and swept the world away like he should
He sent her a poem she accepted with joy
Blew her mind with crafts he assembled like schemes, plots, and ploys
She gave him a secret, he gave her a line
She confessed her emotions, he confessed a lie
She showed him her body, he shrugged and denied
She caved and gave more, he enslaved her with compliments, task and more endeavors
She wanted him so bad that for the first time she fell to her knees
He arose from his own. Succeed indeed
He gave her one night, yes one night
8 years of famine, for only one night
He kissed, massage, fingered and caressed
Demanded her mouth as he got undressed
His contact was of malice and encounter of a deranged mind
An anomaly of his needs, a poetic way to propel her demise
He entered her slow made her safe in his glow
Then with a wicked grin the nightmare did begin
He took control, pinned her down, put big things in small spaces
Made her a scream queen with no crown as he laughed and mocked her desperate faces
A little cut here and a little punch there he accepted her fear
On the night stand he had a special potion
A blend of deadly poison
Told her it would end once she breath no more
"Its your choice my dear" then made her scream some more
He took a break said he'll be back
Went to the kitchen to get a snack
"When I come back we'll start again"
Upon his return he gazed the beaten, ****** goddess
She drank her escape route, now she is lifeless
She was Kaylani
-Mr. H-

GOOD MORNING AT MIDNIGHT

Easily aroused at the noon of night, time to say good morning in that special way
So many sounds, and to my point of view the mood is right for those things that I
shouldn't do but do anyway

What should I do to convey to you
That there is a primal need to feed this brew
Of lust and untamed general excuses, the make believe, and urgencies
all to get next to you

"Where to begin"? My thoughts are at attention
While my flesh rips from within.
I'm a slave to these waves of intimacy shackled to the seeds of my intentions

I am so captivated by your sleeping physique
So enticed by the subtle words your form brings to mind. I seek to infiltrate your mounds and depressions, your angles and impressions, and topple this fortress of pillows, covers, and sheets

Once again, "where do I begin?" I plot and divulge the scheme
Maybe the base of your stance, the arch of your feet? A firm grip to squeeze and massage away
The pain of your daily stride. Equal care for every soft colored nail, and each one kissed admired and dismissed. I can tell your skin is impressed by this

Oh where can this moment lead? I trail of to the rear of your knees
Oil soaked palms, on your warm toned calves
I kneed and *****, till that tension passes
Are you ready to announce your submission
I can hear your deep exhales from your face down position

Can you turn to greet me, face upward to receive me
Your eyes lock to mine. Even though there filled with the days exhaustion.
They shine like they arrived from the sky
Waking for the experience, "hello my love"
Relax and enjoy and let me exploit you
A few kisses and my tongue shall anoint you
While my fingers explore the very core of your erogenous ****** being

Our journey has no predetermined destination
Just the satisfaction of knowing when we arrive

This night I'm endowed with pride,
and I strive
to make you believe (that)
Every lap around your,
every tap upon your,
never stop until your,
waiting for the tide to recede.
With every breath you encourages me
As we kiss and break up (our senses)
Then collide and make up (once again)
A new dimension to an old trend (lovers)
A new connection to an old friend (you)
A new ingredient to an old blend (embrace)
A new depth to a old shallow end(******)
With that eruption I want you to receive what I send

In the after glow of your embrace I indulge in your taste
Both our flesh cooled by our sweat
Only to find heat in our relief and
The absence of our possessions and stress.
Nothing else exist when we do
No other sound can drown the song of our impromptu passion

As we agree that slumber is our next quest to embark I kiss your lips and we lock sights
A unspoken appreciation for our
Good Morning at Midnight

XIN

i can't imagine a better maxim for a marriage:

   when both of you are young...
and... instead of being
these "star-crossed lovers" -

with a rubric
                  of the thwart(ing)...

to marry: when both are still in love with life...

                    from a nation-state into
the ***** of a diaspora...

what a fine word...
   the mass-influx of hyping around
the otherwise, fake:

       migrant workers...
like the current argument for
british sovereignty:
we will not have any of the bureaucracy
from Brussels...
but, we, will! have...
those romanian fruit & veg pickers!

it's hardly a joke:
more like a choke...
                    what's the difference between...
leaving one part of the country
for another: part of the same country...
and then... being daring enough...
to leave the country: thoroughly...
and have to learn a new language?

dual-citizenship...
go back? stay here?
hmm... i'm not really fond of speaking
or writing in ******...
the germans dissolved...
the russians too: dissolved...
i'm pretty sure that language can
remain intact... as it is...
under the law & justice party...
once they focus on the breeders
with tax-free incentives...

Chicago! what a fine diaspora hub
for the ****** "expatriates"...
good thing i never made it to
h'america: in stripes...

the friends of my youth...
most of then? crimminals...
        the nicknames we had for each
other:
i remember being taunted as being
an... "angol"... because my father wasn't
their father and wasn't part
of laying down the foundations
of "bones" for the dockland light railway...

i left a nation: still in its infancy...
and to its infancy i will drink!
but as a language: not a people...
not a geographic location...
a metaphysical manifestation:
if the word be a faustian signature...
yes, my lord... i see the pinching
itch of the natives squandering it...
like it should not have been...
a frederick hohenstaufen II experiment
in a nunnery on Sicily...
mute children... raised by nuns who didn't
speak: pretending...
to see... what language was genesis primo!

my allegiance is to the tongue...
it might allude to the fife and drums...
but dealing with the rascal
who deems...
that god save the queen be treated
with irreverence...
i'm not as daft and yobbish to glare
with a hydra giving birth to an extension
of its neck-load girth...

give me! the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
and i'll show you le marseillaise!
i have long ago pledge my allegience
to the tongue...
              
because? well... to be honest...
under all the supression from the...
(a) herr meisterstuck:
         the day:
        
        the prussians... "forgot"...
they were jumbled up with the lithuanians
as the last pagans of europe...
and then they decided: whatever it
was that they decided upon...

i hear some russian... i hear a down syndrome
person talk...
it's all lovely and sing-along...
but it's hardly by strict obligation
to the latin script... is it?
i have to nibble at pitty-worth jokes
to aid my...

diaspora: involuntary mass dispersion
of a population from its indigenous territories...
last time i checked...
i was born into a city famously known
for its practice in metallurgy...
i was the never-to-be grandson
of Die Krupp ambitions!
    i would leave my hometown and...
well... there was Warsaw...
or the... brain-drain train "elsewhere"...
from a nation into the grand...
vacuum of the diaspora...

except in england...
       the no. 303... most of which settled
in either Scotland or... Stratford-upon-Avon...
elsewhere... some other... "elsewhere"...

well...
   given that i have had had a choice...
ha ha! comma? sir?! that that?
      given that i have had - had a choice...
well... imagine... perhaps there's something
about Fwench... but i'm chosing sides...
it's not in Norwegian...
so... b'leh b'leh b'leh... b'leh...
                      
               i just have to borrow some german...
speaking this... hybrid saxon having
buggered enough afghanistan-esque brit druids...
the zeppelins were always dropping...
soap-bubbles...
          i tease oh god...
i tease... but this music is so... so...
oh so delight-ful!

                   die könig im gelb!

ah... to marry: when both are in love with life!
terrible affair: should... "life" somehow
matter: to disappear...
this love a suffocation for the best ****
they had in... ever...
and there's nothing of what life is concerned
with...
either children or... being infertile...
but to be in love with life...

the russians can't proclaim a diaspora...
then again: the "mafia"...
i've heard of an italian mob-esque...
      disposition... subsequent undercurrents
to boot...
an... irish mafia?
bothersome details...
         i still pledge my alliance to a Dickens
over a a Shakespeare...
because...
by chance... i might find some poetry
in the prosaic? by Shakespeare alone:
i'm... "expected".... aren't i?

bad news from York-and-the-shire...
Rotherham... and the... prefix ****-
   and the suffix -stani "debate"...
                   do you even know
how... let's not go there...
to term a bogus inconvenience of...

'what the hell is concerning you...
to fathom from cloud-9 a ****** notion of...
being out-bred?!'

an economic war... is a slow war...
it takes time...
it would take the amount of time...
to turn a once proud town focused on
metallurgy into rubble...
some stayed... some moved to warsaw...
some... played: a joker hand de facto...

i am: this... subtle... p.s. curiosity...
had i only come to breed...
rather than to otherwise...
nuance... allegiance...
zu die zunge?! alles!
             die menschen?
                     jeder seine haben!
             die schwach wind und der flagge?!
ist: die schwach wind: und der flagge: nein?

perhaps there's a stressor
of impetus in german that's not allowed
in english...

     ich bin hier für die sprache...
              
it must be translated... such it being:
oh such a wonderful... phrase...

   to marry... when both... are in love... with life...

zu heiraten... wenn beide...
                           sind im liebe... mit leben!

art-*******-and-funky-funky...
parsley-sage-rosemary-thym­e...
        what? thyme? there's a phi or a theta
to posit... instead...
you took the Dubliners' route of: paddy...
tad... and toink!
                'ucking scoundrels!

i will call... the greek-chinese ideogram...
I(ota) the key... and... "thereabouts"...
a keyhole of O(micron)...
it's an id: representation...

                 squashed: yes: 0... for better...
"graphics"...
    
to be young... and to share a half of both:
of being in love with life...

       Φ = the key enters the keyhole (I, O)...
    Θ = the key is turned... (Io)...
         Ψ = the door is opened...

        enough... Beijing "abstract" concerns...
for anyone?
       what's the abstract of rotation?
                                   oh... i guess: 'micron!

so much for abstracts as: only from boing-boing-xin...
some letter can qualify to be
apprehended in ideograms...
B - bossom or a fudge-yeast-byproduct
of a full ***...
              etc. or... Φ, Θ, Ψ...
       now by adding the brackets...
and time has a geography...
from the height of mythology...
to the depths of journalism...
that's... a vector:  (Φ, Θ, Ψ)...

     it's a key... a door... a keyhole...
                            an opening... n'est ce pas?!
hey! let's complicate it further
with: mr. squint... chop-sticks...
dragons... live vermin sushi...
    and counting dry grains of rice...

i'm not: Česlav Miloš...
to begin with... Czesław Miłosz was...
a Lithuanian...
because Copernicus wasn't ******...
"because and because"...
                     sides... all this talk of:
"allegiance"...
**** it... it's a cosmopolitan allegiance
to... the commonality of tongue...
shared to the point...
when... old fictions wrestle with me
and i'm confined to my own cubic...

for english is a language i can
entertain...
allow... yes... this parasite can erode
its host's cranium und...
                                  grauangelegenheit...
it was never... so imposing...
as a german tongue or a russian tongue...
therefore and thereby?
      an easily qualified tongue-donor
with the expanse of thought:
a complete and utter brain-drain on...

now...
there's a difference...
the english will not know it...

there's the nation... and there's the diaspora...
can the english... claim h'america...
or canada... or... australia...
as a nation-extension toward the confines
of a diaspora?
no... i don't think so...

that: quintessential inconvenience of
being merely: english...
   more prone to a local geography...
a devonshire... a derbyshire...
               someone of york...
  lost in new york...
                    a people with...
an imploded seance of diaspora...
    from the humble little island...
to: whatever fraction that was supposed
to make one impose on...

had i just been Irish... and "somehow"
forgotten my Gaelic...
or been that Welshman and no longer
with any Cymru...
well then...
but i come willing because...
      beside the mother and father...
the maternal grandmother and -father...
who will i speak my "native" and "mother"
tunge / zunge to?
          
i rather imagine marriage:
as when both of them are in love with life...
and in love that being said:
a little tale o' whittle england:
make it big in h'america...
        
         this... the most complete...
antithesis of a diaspora...
                    or rather: what lingua franca
was... and what l'inglese is...
and how: even if arabic tried...
and even if: mandarin would hope for...
well... hardly...
jackie chan kung fu and muhammad:
english is more popular than islam...
**** it up: camel jockey!
oh sure... they're "muslim"...
conflicting opinions... once:
speaking in english "arrives"...

                   i'm here: to turn up the volume...
because... i might as well have been
born in estonia... and speaking... estonian...
and never having left estonia...
been very much happy for the euro
and the... thumbling russians... somehow...
"retreating"...
well... if the russians are retreating...
they're: trying to revise being
an indo-european mongrel with...
accents of scandinavia concerning
the founding fathers of Kiev...
and them being russians:
what the hell do we do with the ukranians...
and the mongols that settled and became
tartars?!

yeah... the russians are on the retreat...
    this little island that... hopes for a diaspora...
instead... shuckles...
it has to settle for a h'american empire...
an australia... a new zealand...
ogh! mein! gott! no expatriate diaspora!
no tea with mussolini typo excursions!
mein gott! v'er vill youz goez?!

         zee f'ikkin moonz?! on a sputnik flarez?!
light up baboon *** numero uno:
then whisper among the fwench...

yes... very much brilliant...
         to be alive... and to marry so young...
and be helped: so young...
and not be thwarted...
   'coz crazy bunnies had the best ***...
great: to be alive, so young,
and married: and married to each other
and at the same time: having life marry you
to love it: to be together and married
to a love for life:
and... just... somehow...
having a co-dependent... of reciprocated
self-interests...

                            even in poland...
a soviety satellite...
with concrete chicken-shacks... ah yes:
that... "once upon a time"...
better the ******* state as my landlord
than some grubby liquorice ****** 3rd party:
libertarian "full dislocusre of mammon's
expression of par-tay"... sort of *******!
give me the state, the grey-suit and the gimps!

or? shackle me up for a stipend
working the sloughterhouse...
to boot... a house filled with 20 dobermans...
and 5 rottweilers...
i'll slaughter your cows... for the steak chops...
as long as i have the dogs to cuddle
and imagine myself doing the greater:
cosmic-karma-good...
the dogs... the harem of dogs...
no... women need excuses...
the dogs!

                 hell... a woman would require...
anniverseries... flowers... pinnace for a tsunami...
crumbs... what's a loaf of bread?
details... something to be minded as:
once being a plughole...
blah blah... hands for cushions...
        
              plus... women can't drink...
let her everything else: apart from the whiskey...
if she really wants to drink...
tell her to sober up on some Stendhal or
some Balzac... but don't let a woman
try to outcompete a man drinking...
she can drink...
but not... in that most... ugly: crab-feast
of... "detail"...

the english man... england...
h'america, australia... new zealand...
oh... wait... you were hoping for a diaspora...
weren't you?
yeah... clearly i didn't find an affair of
the imitation of greece...
took charge of the latin script...
inverted the mediterranean sea...

i speak your language: doesn't imply
i've shed the "ethno-nationalist" tattoos of "d.n.a."...
for a people to have made it bitter...
with the teutonic order over access to the baltic sea...
what's the baltic sea?
it's like the black sea...
the baltic sea is about as useful as...
well... the danes and the norwegians
held the toll and price of passing...
just like the turks or the byzantines held
the key of the bosphorus...
the baltic... is a "sea"...
just like the black sea is a "sea"...

did you know... there's a caspian sea?
yeah... it's a "sea"... more like... a lake would
be so much better...

the english could be akin to the arabs
from 200 years ago...
instead: sitting on a tonne of salt...
and waves...
and open horizons...
while the arabs sat on camel ****...
sand... and dinosaur juice...
and materialistic leprosy and limp-****
viagara palm tree impromptu...

sure... the lottery ticket of the past,
oh the most glorious past times...
        nothing lasts forever...
       so it seems...
            here's me celebrating Dickens
to the last... breath... because...
keeping up with speaking my native
language: when there are no
prussians, no russians...
           no austro-hungarians...
and there are only...
ukranians and lithuanians readying
to guilt-trip me over the failures
of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth?!

in this language i can...
ale... nie... w... tym!

I should’ve never talked to you the way I did
I’m sorry for the words that were said
No level of any emotions should
You ever be talked to the why I talked to you

Xin loi, langga.

‪I am in the hinterlands ‬
Of my being

I am in the xin jiang
Of my spirituality

I am in the talklamakan
Of my happiness

I am in the borderlands
Of my love.

Looking for meaning.  
Looking for justice.

The Equestrian

When we met
We could and would
Have a sunday brunch
We ate **** word appetizers
Before eruptions of love for our main course
We conversed about ecstasy
And drank tall glasses of progeny
And picked morsels of fantasy
Passed on the dessert
Enough sweetness in wetness
Salivate like rabid wolves
Over the thought that
your body brings me deepness
I guess I'm in depth
She straddles my imagination
I saddled her provocation
Learn the speed at which her mind gallops
While
We share our addictions
Compare our afflictions
Only to conclude we're of the same breed
An option I could of
If only I would of
But knowing I should of
Cause the timing is never right

Not all heros ride into the sunset
Not all villains would meet there demise

Xin

A Toast to Heaven.
Chrysanthemums igniting
The night's colbalt skies.

Monday Blues

I wish today displayed its jealousy of tomorrow
Wish it bullied its way in and
Announced it would never leave

I wish tomorrow slumbered
And had no interest in the dawn
Wish today would slow its stride
And hide its exhaustion with a big smile

Wish tomorrow didn't come so fast
Cuz now today is its name
And today was yesterday
A moment I want to relive.

XIN

LIMBO
There is a perch above the earth,
That some reside
Not quite as high as the sunrise
But just beneath the cool of the night sky
I deny that I feel envy to those above I
But I do imply that my mind sometimes
Fantasize of tippy toed extensions
Squinting eyes and hands high to the heavens as
I grasp at the precipice thrilled at the benefits
That awaits an individual such as me
A monumental moment most men may miss
Due to the maleficent molded macho make
Of there guarded guile jilted while stilted
Elevation of ones own ego
But we know it’s a heavy task
To wear that mask when
Peaking up at that perch
Only makes your neck hurt
But the toll to reach that elevated road
Is as simple as letting her know
You’d rather be home
Just you two alone
Two heads on one pillow
Curtains drawn and windows closed
Night till dawn with flesh exposed
Just three words to let her know
“Ascend with me”
Then of you’ll go
And that my love, is the space above
Atop the night but below the sun
That I seek to reach once you get home
Love XIN

Dreaming in the dream (Broken inception)

-Alexis J. Meighan-
11-12-2013 10:45:45pm

I could try.... Exhale
I could sigh
Read the menu, make my choice
Clear and simple tone in my voice
I make the healthy decision.
The one all the world says work best.
The one the waiter recommended, **** near on knees bent

But yet there's an error on the dish I receive. "That's not what I ordered"
I double checked my choice and even went along with the spectators cohesion, and ample coercing.

"I ordered what you suggested, to be your best
and
Yet I am wrong for being wronged by the establishment's
I need to see your management. This plate of food is an embarrassment
And most of all not what you said I would get"

I ask my mates around the table, a bowl of this is what you praised, yet a plate of Bul+#!t is what she gave
How can you say it is what it is not
When we all want the same dish BUT
Different is what I got and you say its all the same and I assure you madam it is not

Then I am made out to be insane. Patronized!
I am told "we are aware that you believe that you are
entitled to what you claim"
Though the table and server don't feel the same.
I should keep asking for that in-correct entree(They say)

I Demand a bowl of that
Waitress then replies
"yes sir I will obliged"
She returns with plate of this
Again enraged I explain again and again
"That not the F#€@ng bowl of fiddles you keep insisting when I maintain my choice from menu is undermined and obscured with plates of bull$#+t now I want out of this place"

I stand and scowl at all around
throw my napkin on the ground
i can't believe this waitress audacity to mock my effort and good intent
with her insisting insults that my brain lacks presence.
Like I don't know what I want and how to ask.
Exiting the building I look back and I ask
"Are you people all crazy?"
Everyone makes eyes contact to my brow, all wearing mask that resembles cats.

They begin to clap and whistle. And in unison chant
"You can't win, you can't win, you can't win, YOU CAN'T WIN"
I cover my ears and close my eyes then it all stops and to my surprise,
I fix my stare to where I had disappeared to.... Like a dream I am woken in confusion ear to phone,
hearing the unrecognizable babble from a voice in my home.
Then a click, dial tone, a beep as I touch the green button, I raw rush of pain postponed, as it (the sensation) passes,
the calm, the rational, the point where I am aware, that I am alone in thinking I've grown, destitute in comparison to the riches of the idealistic child I saw playing peekaboo with his scars in the mirror,
when now there is always doubt on how we proceed and believe. The doubt that my dreams and my reality, altered state or sober receiving the wrong plate, can it ever get along. always somber from the vast knowledge, always knowing more than I let on.

A good title for a sandy beach, sunset and drum stick, kind of song.

......Xin

Lol Failure

Too much time to change your mind on the way down. Plus your scared of heights

Bandages and shoe laces stop that ****. hide it with tattoos on the wrist

Too violent, big mess, GSW fail now a vegetable and someone's burden

A lynching? Quit it! KKK gets no favors

Peace and quiet in the car, garage door closed. Then your favorite song comes on. Took too long after all. Don't you drive a prius?

Like you don't know how to swim. Sharks don't live in lakes

Nissan, lexus, most new GMC all have auto detection braking. Get back on the side walk dummy.

Too high of a tolerance you druggy and every Corner has an ER. Now your on the list with diarrhea

Police knows the world is watching they'll pepper spray before they draw now. Now your blind and got your *** whipped with a. Night stick

Honey? Bears? Really?

Circuit breakers homie! Now you have soggy toast.
Smile and shovel the pastries maybe you'll get lucky and cholesterol will stop ya.

Insensitive? Yes,but none the less,
Guess That's my LOL Failure.
-Xin-

The dream

Remember- Martin Luther King-

"Let freedom ring"
He grace the world with a vision.
"Free at last"
He sang of the goal to the crowd

Remember -Agathe Uwilingiyimana -

The "content of our character"
Has come to judgment
But these character are just fools on a stage

Remember -Abraham Lincoln-

King's dream would come to a peak
But 2chainz, kim, minaj  TO and those unlike him
Would push it over and watch it crash on the buffs below

Remember -Medgar Evers-

Even Langston, wondered "what is a dream differed?"
Mahalia Jackson screamed for Martin to "tell em bout the dream"
But as Marvin proclaimed "we still don't know what's going"

Remember -John Fitzgerald Kennedy-

Obama made it in but the walls of the house he resides are far from the gleaming white it claims to be.
Blackened by the administration before him, the walls just too dingy to overlook

Remember -Fred Hampton-

He said "america gave us a bad check" and the march to washington would be how its cashed.
We all saw Barak at the teller endorsing but in the end the long fall of that tall horse was the goal of the fairest man.

He wanted every valley exalted.
Instead ******* God father pizza man makes a fool of the process, and a kid with a hoodie take the hit, just like Emmit Till, a school full of babies take the hit, Twin towers in new york takes the hit, theatre full of batman fans take the hit, but guess that's living the dream.

Remember- Harry and Hariette Moore-

Malcom says by any means
Even Jimi Hendrix sang for us to grab the machine guns
"Fight the power!" Be a public enemy. What ever happen to all that?
A fist in the air and a call for unity use to use to get us up in the morning
Now this ***** running around with a helmet and some horns telling these skanks he's the flavor of love.
Ya I'll pass on that
And go with the labor of love and survive with a better understanding of what life is.

Remember -Benazir Bhutto-

Mya Angelou was a ****, *******, stripper, and thief before she  new "why the cage bird sing"
Even today with all her enlightenment she ask where is Dr King's dream?

Humans have come so far so fast but judgment and common sense still elude our sophisticated lives. What once was a dream is indeed a reality to most but that's only because the play ignorance to the issues that still plague our nation and that dream we chase is littered with little nightmares.

Remember -Emmit Till-

Lincoln started the process J.F.K started the process, M.L.K. Preached the process, Medgar Evars tried to beat the process, Malcom X was betrayed for the process, Agathe Uwilingiyimana stood up for the process,Benazir Bhutto took a chance on the process,Fred Hampton died in the process,
Harry and Hariette Moore burned for the process,
Emmit Till was tortured in the process.
All believing the dream would see them survive.

-Remember the future-
-Xin-

How does it move away?
Does it pack up what is racked up
Heading for the horizon and simply fade?

How does it walk away?
Does it stomp with every step as it squash whatever's left
Like footprints in the sand lost to the waves?

How does it stay away?
Does it rotate slowly with frustration, lamenting your suspicions
Frustrating you, festering and pestering,then it wanes
Till darkness blankets your brain?

How does it slip away?
Does it go unnoticed for days then weeks,
Wondering from the sunrise till the flickering of the lights in the streets
Insisting,persistent,yet resisted then dismissed,
Offering random handouts like a dog begging for scraps
Running and hiding, punished for trying then eventually dying
To an eventual parting of ways

What makes a Solid Bond struggle to maintain?
What makes it strong and easy to depend on?

XIN

I figure this to be
The sanctuary
Build from the ash and debris
Of past storms and unhealthy tendencies
A folk lore
Just short of a mystery
The list is infinite
But the bottom of the page is clear to me
I focus my point
Trying to stay on target but I miss easily
Dreaming of clouds and celestial cuisines, heavenly
Close my eyes and jump from outer space
Screaming as if it will cushion the fall from grace
Tearing apart on impact, what's left?
My complacency, complexity, impurities, the real me?
They way down is way down
How long a fall? Just way down
I'll aim for that hay pile
Like a middle era hero with a pale cowl (Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad  reference)
Falling feels like sinking
The weight in my gut persist to expel itself
In my panic I'm thinking
"I wish gravity would give up
I'm 500 feet from the pavement
15 seconds till impact
If this is my dream the wings will be there
And I'll soar away just before I hit the floor
I close my eyes and begin to squeeze
Visualizing the emergence of these beautiful wings
I open my eyes
I can see the cracks on the side walk and lines on the street
10 feet from the ground ready to take off then like a dream I .............(Loud Thud!!!!!!)
Ouch!!
    -Xin-

Its just ink.

Though I lay it down
They say I lay it down
From the depth of my inner
To the facade of my smile
Matters not if in the end its just ink

From the thick of its grip
No gripe that it fits
Its said I laid it down
God knows I ache from its motion
But crushed I am that in the end its just ink

I think of all the glamour
Inhale every scent she wears
Tear apart my heart to get the darkest crimson
Mix it in the well, they say I's lays it down
Brand it in my skin. But to her its just ink

Its a link, a moment of some progress
The greatest of our progress.
She said I laid it down, but we both shared the  crown
And though just a granule on the shore
An annual creed of "Adore", not sure
Why its just ink

We watched the moon sink behind violent waters
Every night from the window, broken clouds soar with loud hues of pink and purple
Not every moment is a high hurdle to scale, its why the pen sets sail,ill will, I lay that down
Good moments are grand ones, so why those ascribed only known as just ink?

Just think.
A past where ballads were written on the battle fields
Pledge our allegiance now to a flag that waved under duress
Love stands grander a chance by that test
A scream is like cannons while a tear is like bullets
Hit the page and leave holes. I bared arms now I lay them down. These wounds no longer just ink.

-Xin-

I doubt the words on the page, correctly portrays, the images of the hand that wrote them.

Silent lips
Deaf ears, and
Blind eyes are
The merit of the creator as
He namelessly transmits his
Inner thoughts to his outer audience

My pen does not move for your applause
It moves for your focus
The thought pattern in this movement
Is more, and less, of my faceless existence

I can listen to what you want me to hear
But that doesn't mean that I am there, for that reason

I am a giver of many words and
A taker of many woes
I promise I could never fit a profile

The words I write are chameleon
They change to what you believe they say
The body I possess is chameleon
It changes to fit whatever pleasures you extract

No matter the length of time you stare
No matter how close you get
You will never find me.
XIN

...1

Oh Middle Kingdom! Forbidden kingdom! Middle Earth!
The In-between


and Afterward, Within and Outside
this world's physical berths

Spirit realm and beyond the Further

Oh Heavenly and Cosmic

Mother/Father,

Imperial ruler of All creation

All us living,

Oh where are you?!

Ohm

Middle Kingdom, Forbidden Kingdom,

Goddess Love / God my King?

I am your word your fire your son

Awaiting for kingdom come

Our Universe of infinite Light

and Peace

not yet begun,

Oh kingdom! All that is One!

Life is yours and all below the stars

belongs to none and only you and yours!

Oh middle kingdom, oh middle earth!

Reclaim what was, is and further more

all of time, all of Truth

upon this shore and beneath this sky

we belong within your Light!

Oh Kingdom! Oh Heaven!

OHM Shambala Oh!

Ohm Valhalla Oh!

Ohm Forever Oh!


___________

...2

Ohm Shambala!
in shambles
Shangri La contained
conquered by fists
ample weight
of walls of stones
another wonder
on hill of bone
Tourists and their Sherpas
'Tch 'Tch lost histories
when once
cloud city and magic
was laughter on the chicory
and wind

Oh peaceful wisdoms
my middle kingdom hence
rescinds to lifeless
beige and damning Greys
it appears it feels
like Hell ever since

The halls are unremembered ways
empty of God's good love
or wonder light of Day...

Oh Middle Kingdom!
Ohm Shambala!
Xin Nian Quai Le!


(You're a beautiful day!)

Streams of memories flow down along Xin’an River
What I see are series of picturesque reflection of you
Both our happiness and sad days replay like a movie
And yet I seem can’t remember
Or did I just feign to forget?

A blind poet keeps writing of his love
Page after page filled with endearment
Like it was really him who spoke
Yet not a single thing was real

Even the sun bids goodbye and the moon rises
His aged hand won’t stop stroking
Overflowing with emotions he can’t contain
The words he wants to tell
Was it really from him?

Like the eclipse that stunned the world
My meeting with you also stunned me
Though the wisterias are in full bloom
Their beauty paled in your comparison


Reliving that enchanting moment
As if it really happened in the past
He writes about the girl
Whom he only saw inside his mind

Eyes shone like of that stars in the night sky
Her smiles so blinding like the sun itself
Right then I know I am doomed
I instantly fell*

Every scenes that he picture out came from his head
A giant story book that tells a fairy tale of a long time ago
That it almost make him believe it was true
But is it?

Drowned in the sweet delusion he made himself
The poet continued writing all day and night
Never once he stopped for if he did
Surely that girl would vanish

Under the weeping willow was our tryst
We hug and held hands like there was no tomorrow
Afraid that it will be the last time
So we seize every chance like catching fireflies

Soon the candle was about to burnt
But even so, he will keep on writing
And as the pen carved the last word
So did his last breathe

Upon closing his now tired eyes which can’t see
Flashbacks begin to show one by one
A picture of him and the girl
Both of them were happy and so in love

Standing right on his front was the girl
Who he thought was just a figment of his imagination
Extending her hands asking him to hold
But how could he see her when he was blind?

But Fate always make fun of humans
The more you love, the more she become cruel
And just like the rushing water of Xin’an
She took you away from me

A flower that has yet to bloom
Perished under the violent river
What was left is a written sonnet of love
And a young man who grieve and wail

Rain started to pour from his blind eyes
As the lost fragment has finally been found
The girl whom he write his poems for
Was the very same girl he did love in the past

Not accepting the death of his lover
He turned their memories into dreams and wrote it
All the words, all the scenes in the poem were his
It was all the blind poet’s story and promise

Along the autumn winds and zephyr
A lone man whispered through his prayers
Vows, promises and wishes to the Gods
And for the love he forever lost

*Even a thousand years will pass
Even we would live a thousand lives
Only you and you alone will my heart seek
So while waiting for the couple Xian He to reunite
And for the moon and sun to become one
I’ll keep on singing these thousand love songs
Until in my next life, I meet you again

the more i stick to a routine
that might leave a few people in a mental
asylum,
    who would not welcome
frustration, doing the same thing,
over and over again,
   i.e. going to a supermarket and buying
whiskey and coke, becoming "too" friendly
with one of the shop assistants,
    knowing her name,
that's she's diabetic:
i'm only in here for the whiskey luv...
it's not that i mind,
  it's about as close i'll ever become
bewildered at life, in general...
      **** Jupiter and a moon-landing,
this bothers me more,
   i don't get the puppy-eyed look
of people embarking on a philosophical
odyssey -
i don't know why i should be prescribed
the Aristotelian: beginning with awe
  type of management of the subject,
or what Nietzsche predicted,
   and is currently known:
the narrative in the west,
alias: talking for the entire human species...
   that ****** uber-schnurrbart
really did see something...
   now i'm experiencing it,
  it's called 2 billions worth of China and India...
i'm actually, sometimes found,
listening to pointless youtube videos...
  i get it: it can get a little bit *****,
my bachelor status isn't exactly orientated
around diapers, although,
as Borat might have said:
that would be nice...
         you know they filmed that movie
in Romania, and not Kazakhstan?
              it's almost a bid sad to be around
poverty, and tribalism,
     can't make a joke out it,
couldn't make a mid-western gothic out
of it either... what with t.v. in your own company....
and yes, oddly enough...
   i have a bed, and i turn on the radio,
i never fall asleep watching the t.v.,
must be a western thing... you dig?
    1950s slang, more comprehensible than
anything i could ever hear from the slang
quarter of language these days...
   the latin quarter? busy...
literally... greece and italy backrupt...
    so, hey man, what's it like not able
to *** around the country doing factotum jobs?
    what's with that over-arching
castration concept of living with your parents?
ah, you know man,
   ****'s on the stove, and i hit a ****** note
with my saxophone...
sound very much like a wet ****...
you know, the **** you **** that almost feels
like ingesting carbonated water through your ****,
what's the word: trembling, frizzy?
    you know: do the motorboat with your lips...
i woke up today and didn't feel like living,
but the noose wasn't exactly an option...
my grandparent's neighbour?
hanged himself on a door-****,
i was visiting them when it happened...
****'s sake! on a door-****?
                      that's really desperate...
    i mean: i wish i was that guy...
but at least in the case of capital punishment:
when it was still active...
   you got the scaffold... and you dropped...
and your neck broke, and it was death in an instant...
   he had a gimp for an executioner...
   so yeah, life's cool,
i drank that wine i made in less than a week,
35 litres of it...
         i woke up today, thought:
give me the downhill... right now!
i thought i'd delay *******...
          built a quasi lego piece of the Eiffel tower,
then decided... i need to brush my teeth...
had a shower...
              then i cooked dinner...
  well... dinner two days in advance...
one sauce was a spaghetti bolognaise...
another a sauce for cottage (i.e. using beef,
not lamb) pie...
made some funky cool poh-ta-toes...
               for yesterday's roast beef,
left uncarved the previous day by being
left to get the thrill man gets
   ******* and jumping out of an ice bath...
so the juices condense, and you can almost
make out the pink flesh on the second day...
and some ménage à trois.... oh sorry...
too much Dell Boy Trotter in me at the moment:
gosh... the memories of watching that twichy
character on screen... mangetout...
and in between i took off the washing from
the washing lines in the garden...
             faked smoking sitting in the february
cold for a while...
   that's 2 meals in advance that is...
      and this really belongs to a creed that states:
if you can read... it's better to read about
something that doesn't have cars blowing up,
or avalanches... or dams bursting in northen
california... well: it's not exactly
   tolstoy's war and peace... but it's something
that allows for sensationalism of the news
and the odd chance of seeing a good movie...
    or i guess: the antidote to a good poem,
is the worst imaginable poem, actually...
saying that: people call poems bad when
they are rigid in using technique...
poetic technique... i prefer a stance on
spare of the moment / spontaneity than something
that might require a hammer of metaphor
and a nail of a pun...
           some call it innovation,
others can't say much because they're myopic...
and lo! yonder the savannah and the buckling
gazelle! right on the chin...
hoofs, no shoelaces, back legs made front legs
into spaghetti... and there... a plum on the chin...
boom... down onto the green...
          another consideration would be
a man in clown make-up crying,
    and a fat-cat billionaire laughing...
    or was that ever, not the case?
  it has to be idiosyncratic, this english "thing"
of calling laughter crying and crying laughter...
     it actually is a very english "thing",
when you get too much psychology,
about how keeping the word ego can complicate
merely saying i...
  and there's no other latin word in sight,
and you then get egoism, and egocentrism...
    i mean: what's up with that basis for a theory,
    evidently it's a case of the word becoming
too uncomfortable, since no one actually says
  ego cogito ergo ego sum... it suddenly drops off
and people who say the above end up only saying
cogito ergo sum... and is that why people
you can actually ascribe so much theory to the ****** word
that might rob people from having a narrative?
    rob the people of a narrative and you return them
into a state of being pulverised by 5 vectors,
the pentagon of the senses,
    and evidently they're unable to narrate their
day-to-day, because they're herded like wild
hysterical animals... even though they are
given the membrane of civilisation...
      it really is a case of somehow not embarking
into keeping the latin and the north barbarian
words... how can you keep up
with ego, i, self? how long will this italian
**** of bulimia and gluttony last?
     you want to keep spewing that *******
for another 100 years?
evidently there is no theory concerning i,
there's merely an ipod...
              sure sure, you could only derive a
theory if you said the unit wasn't i
(because that would be too personal to construct
a narrative) - but had to be
   the reflective ego, and the reflexive self...
i.e. that string of pronoun compounds known
as myself, itself, himself...
   and when given the scalpel... my self
   (which becomes a reflective stance on meditating
the words, rather than a reflexive pronoun
in its original... no huh? but thump!
on yer bike! go!).
   i call them for what they are...
        yes, and my parents are great,
cooked them dinner...
   just about now, when in the 1970s and 1980s...
when the first cold war was happening,
the americans / the west merely wanted
to feed stories into the soviet union,
if every spying was a c.v. joke, it happened
when ian flemming wrote his series...
   what ever happened to a campfire and telling
stories, or when we told horror stories to each other?
  spying: can you just imagine
what the job description would look like?
pst... it's a secret.
       but you know, the americans had this thing
of telling stories to the "enemy",
     false news...
                it's so obvious now, since everyone
seems to be onto it...
     well... it's happening in england, right now,
but it's not exactly an attack scenario...
it's self-mutilation, yes, a masochism...
  you reach a real dead-end when you tell lies
to yourself... and that's what england is sitting
on: an implosion of well... the n.h.s. in crisis...
the housing crisis...
                 you name it...
  i guess there were many people out there,
willing to sacrifice their sanity, by appropriating
the excesses of c.c.t.v. voyeurism,
mingled with the excesses of ***** that paved
the way to this massive delusion of the next
jain boond to swing on a rope into a gorilla
enclosure and beat the **** out of a 300kg gorilla,
Klitschko style! bang! bang boom!
    silverback gorilla on a torture rack!
job done.
       no, i get it... a girl got to kick-box and a girl
got to play footie... cos girl can...
     wait till she don't get a: fragile heart...
like mine, writing odes about
walking past a church when the church bells ring
eleven times, and there's the moon...
  it will become very very pointless writing
about hearts of porcelain in the future,
      but just as nietzsche pointed out:
imagine talking for the entire human race...
yes, i can, or should i say could? because i don't
have to...
   the western narrative is so up it's own
*** talking about species, while the Moldovians
are talking about Ukranians,
the Poles are talking about Germans,
   the Italians... they talk all the time,
so who cares?
                but it's this globalisation vocabulary
that's halting, and making me think:
the Genghis Khan tribe isn't exacrtly in
the news? they must have neighbours!
they must actually know the people living near them...
well...
   on my street... 6 houses in a row of
identical architecture, i.e. built in the 1940s...
   first house, sikhs...
    parents went to the daughter's wedding,
woman brought over some curry,
   i ended up making even better curry...
my cat is left in their care while i'm away
visiting my grandparents,
   i get this panic attack premonition
  that i need to be back home when i'm away...
   i come back home, the cat is dead...
   we rarely speak these days...
  he was on aspirins, and yes, cats take a ******
long time to die from kidney failure...
ever watch a cat ****? cats take a shorter amount
of time to take a **** than ****...
   watching a cat **** into the toilet it like
watching a person drinking a melchizedek sized
wine bottle...
   a cat could be a man
   as a man taking a **** as in the cat taking a ****
and reading a newspaper...
     seems we're parallel creatures,
  i exfoliate and massage my **** muscles
by taking extra time with them stretched open
once the bombs away passes...
    and i'm just sitting there:
  to vank?! or not to vank? or what i call:
the 3 in 1.
        well, you can't exactly think about
lighting scented candles and doing it in bed,
can you?
      you'd have to be a woman to do that,
and invest in a good ***** replica
of a man that would only tell her:
honey... tree bears.
    do i sometimes think about putting it into
a moist couch-like environment?
   yeah... but i guess ******* is a bit like
doing ****... **** the bone and those muscles man!
   ****? yeah... never did it...
biblical regulations...
              about the same time when
heterosexuals take over from the once famed
taboo provocateurs in the homosexual department...
haven't seen a worthwhile Oscar Wilde come from
that scene for years... maybe i wasn't looking,
ah yes, they're too busy being "normal" and starting
families... funs over... and so is the art.
no wait, all i wanted to say is that
what nietzsche said in the 19th century,
  the anglophone world is trapped in it's own
end product of globalisation, and this whole:
speaking for the entirety of humanity doesn't have
and local thrill to it, no local accent,
      it's scary, to be the only language willing
to speak for the entire human race,
  and, when travelling to other places in the world
realising that you were pretty much:
not thinking, and merely talking to your self...
    i have that taste for foreign cultures...
   you can hardly hear an existential argument
in the same vein as you might hear in england...
     basically... i just think that english is
over-streched...
     in the case of russian, it's stretched:
but contained with interlocking tribes of people...
if i want to hear english sprechen in the pacific
it's a 12 hour flight to australia...
               i can't imagine talking for
the entire human race... and given this
seemingly ancient german, i'm imagining it
as the counter-argument of the current narrative,
because i can't even state that i'm in awe of it,
but more or less apprehensive about it...
given the numbers... the total anglophone world
doesn't even number that of China...
and you know, infiltrating that place with
the complexity of the encoded sounds that are
later echoed back as Xin Ping...
    who lived in Beijing...
            you really have to address either silent,
or talking about something so complicated,
that it would equal the Chinese encoding system...
  otherwise it's falling through the holes...
oh look... q r o p a d b g...
  the best we can do is make silence complicated,
since what i'm hearing: isn't exactly complicated...
on youtube most noteworthy...
   oh right, almost forgot...
the other neighbours on my 6 house line
are a Jewish family... well... sorta...
   just a literal mad-house... we get on fine...
and after that: 3 houses, natives, so yeah, english...
all of them broken families...
   the neighbours next to mine are:
woman in her late 40s... man in his early 50s...
about to have a child...
       after that it's single mother and son,
and after that divorcee and... like... dunno...
     they thought the indians were savages
moving across the pond...
              i'm sitting here having a right old laugh...
and it's a malicious laugh for the laugh in itself...
        last time i remembered
  taking a mouse from the mouth of my cat
after he caught it, and then releasing the mouse
  into my neighbour's garden...
   or a fly... crawling over my forehead
     while i took a selfie to exfoliate my face
like that of an acne riddled moon.

@ alexismeighan

Twitter Poem

I get 140 to relay the day
112 now to start the fire
86 steps to say hello now
60 to lift and inspire
37 to go
28 more
7 is a twitter poem

-Xin-

2 addicts in conversation

I've always said the act of love itself from unrequited to world wind is a drug that claims more addicts than all narcotics combine. From the rush to the withdrawals. tears and anticipation to the eruption of having it taken from you. This love drug leaves you a fiend even if you've never participated in its consumption, you pursue, hunt, track and lose your mind for the slimmest of chance in its acquisitions.
Let's take a hit together now and forever. As friends, lovers, partners, and unify.
I feel you! I hear you! Where siblings of the same needle in its lust and retrieval.
-xin-

Sometimes they soar
with out leaving the ground
Hold back pain and tears
even when no ones around
They always seemed super human
even when standing still
Some even reach the top
Even when life stole their will
Often there absence
But for some replace by a perfect model
Some became legendary
While others sank to the bottom
Who ever you are dad, father, or role model
Keep it up For the rest that aren't there
Well there's always next year

Xin & Alexis

Manimal
Instinct that breaths with method
Ravage when starved and savage like its lesson
It dreams of its feast
While gorging every piece
Flavor unfulfill

XIN
(Muse furnished by "B")
Friday at 11:07pm

Ever seen
Ever been
Ever played for a team
Ever day dream
Ever stall
Ever fall
Ever fail
Ever bawl
Ever believe
Ever dream
Ever seen the edge
Ever jump
You will if you've
Ever light a candle and leave the door unlocked
Ever ascend with the one you lay with
Ever lay with the one you play with
Ever play your song for the one you dream of
You won't if you've
Never jump
Never seen the edge
Never dream
Never believe
Never bawl
Never fail
Never fall
Never stall
Never day dream
Never played for a team
Never been
Never seen

       -Alexis J. Meighan-
                  &
                -Xin-

Bad Poet

***** words
Naughty words
Bad spelling
Grammar like diesel fuel spilling from a rusty ship

      .Period; semi something *astrik and the word ****
Sometimes I curse just to make a sentence worse
Make love and make references to it, now watch the flowers die.  so many lines in there context make truth, argue then make-up and make love once more, keep it to my self, and watch the flowers bloom. I don't even know what ****- §- is.

Bad poet
Sleepless words
Lower case nouns
Then there's this thing §, what is that?

       I love the sound of my own voice? No not really. Though I love to read my own words. Follow them with my fingers and trace their outlines like they were your naked body, hoping the words grant the same feelings as your flesh. The feel of your skin and innocent smile is like a blank page waiting to be defaced.

Bad Poet
Poor choices
Stained paper
Even as the pen dances on the lines in jest its heart is pure in its passion and love for both the words and you.

Bad Poet
               -Xin-