Exuberant he is!
That’s a Yogi with character!

Smiling, treat wallah.
Pyramid quartz.
Dangling sparkles.
Sunlight reflects
His teeth softly open to the world.
Taste buds willing
Simple yet refined
Yogi Yum Yums
Spreading the thunderous joy
Of pure delight!
He gives permission to say “GOD”
He sits.
When no one is around
In the hall where Shiva dances to his music.
Pulsing the instrument
Harmonium glimmering with song.
Goggles on, ready and shimmering
He booms a great confidence,
The resounding sound:

SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM
SHRI RAM
JAYA RAM
JAYA JAYA RAM!

In Spring my feet shake ash
like pony in morning do
Race the sun to graze upon the
fruits bearing seed and drum
Hum an i tea cups of id i yums!

this year was never
yours
it was all about
you
your choice
yourself
you yielding
towards any
yeses
yays
yums
yucks
but most importantly
this is all about
you
so just let's turn everything around
with new hellos
turn those yawns
to happy smiles
paint them yellow
let's yell
our young selves
with yearning

xo

She stands outside the convenience store
always with a big smile on her sweet face
she offers sweets to the passers bys
with a twinkle in her piercing green eyes

I always stop to have a chat with her
and inevitably you end up with a sweet
that girls out here in all weathers
giving her yum yums away on the street

I call her my sweet yum yum girl
and now that name sticky sticks
five minutes of chat is enough with her
as too many sweets shoved in your mouth
boy oh boy, can that make you sick


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Crunchy crunch crunch; mirrors and sinks
Olive garden breadsticks  
Dried crouton thingies  
Enriched yum yum
Whole-y yum yums
O
Om
Omgeeeeee

Autumn
A festive time of year
That literally
Yums in a vains
And shows up on our skin
In wild yet beautiful
Designs
Talk leaves tattooed on us.

"Mmmm...strawberries &: curry sauce!"
she yum yums
the twins kicking inside her

.apparently the closest thing to a "faux pas" in poetry is: citation... or at least: the ever grammatical man, template: obscurity; not much can be done, when citing in a poem, e.g. the awe in awkwardness associated with citing N., or H.; the heresy of writing a book: having read some book: prior. no wonder then: when the study of ethics ends, the study of etiquette begins; my, isn't that just one of those one-liners that is... completely unrelated to: what could become the jist of the whole?

not enough life for all the vinyl -
  but just about enough
of roads:
                       with that exception
being:
   not whatever might be my fancy -
or what might be a blue
Monday noon,
                           compared
to a crimson Friday's soon...
     sooner or later: whiskers plucked
from a cat and burned
   in a candle for some: obscurity
     of the act itself; and a spell.

mind you: citations don't really
work -
    i can see, clearly,
                               a lake,
a *****: a mirror,
                            a firecracker
   and a pebble-tongue
                              like an oyster -
                  a mirage, and a miracle;
but esp.: sometimes only for the vox,
a word only for the vox -
   and a word never for the logos...
   a tongue to replace
     a hand knocking on a door -
a gurgling throat
    with a teased uvula -
       rather than a murmuring throng
busying itself
                     with a church bell...

words... cheap as chirps...
               and...
      no... we're not at the stage
   of distancing words from actions:
that some words speak louder
    than other words:
                 and no white knight ladders
of action to compare them
against...
                      reads as plain as:
                                              a tabloid;
no, we're not there yet,
not here at least,
                               that's certain:
that's before we jump onto
the topic of
           lacerating
               the gills we breathe
with when not speaking:

σκεφτομαι -esque- αναπνεω
                     κατω απo                   νερo

(to think is like: to breathe
                                    under water)
      
       a voice in a crowd:
     they call it democractic -
                          that act of drowning:

              coin-flips and
                             waggling dogs' tails...
as some, with their "status quo"...
   as far as i am concerned -
          nothing has ever been
               beside being              in situ;

which was hardly going to be
   a one-man-mission-extravaganza...

too many vinyls,
       and a life that ends up being
a cul de sac...
                                it will hardly
be worth the compensation
      of furthering DNA
                  in a variety akin to:
a continuum of
             a shrapnel consciousness;
    literally:
  the cookie crumbles,
                        the crumbs and
      a fleet
                         of yummy yums
                     left on napkins.

Tis rainy today
But I'm inside with my dogs
where we are all warm

Dean and our children
have gone for a little *****
Spending time with smiles

I'm wrapped in a blanket
My doggies sleeping next to
me dreaming sweetly

I've just watched a film
It was a great film to watch
And I ate some crisps

My lovely sons girlfriend
bought me and Dean an Easter
egg and it looks yums

The rain is falling
Twinking down Chalet pane
The sky is all grey

I saw a raven
Wow it was a massive bird
Sitting on tin roof

O the grass is so
beautifully green with daisies
blooming everywhere

And even though it's
raining outside , today is
still a lovely day

cause the flowers are
growing and so are the trees
And the windows sing

ESCUTCHEON:  Tuesday September 17th, 2019 at 09:41 PM writes:

oh please…no more fluff for the stuffy…blah, blah, blah

REPLY:
its so dank in here – do you mind moving over?

ESCUTCHEON:
have to go anyway, its late and kinda artsy for fancy yum yums like me ... so derivative like.

REPLY:
ha, ha, ha ya mean so loosely fitting that it ‘palls me *****’.   cheerios girls, as the Telegraphers say

ESCUTCHEON:
cornflakes, potatoes, silk chiffon ribbons, any french layer cake will do for you lot…btw working me times table

REPLY:
since you (men)tion it, hee, hee, kah, kah, (cough)(spits out loose tooth).

ESCUTCHEON:  
rolls around with five men until sparkling clean.  Just like all the men *** known, T. Hee (she wahnts five x =’s 45)

REPLY:
leave it alone pal (3plus10)

ESCUTCHEON:  
yeah or just leave. this restaurant is for invertebrates and finger stats and rind rats

cafe french is stupid. and quit pointing that thing at me
it feels like two flutes in the back

i **(p)e everyone just turns out to vote (for me!) (aside to self – how does one thought supersede another (self to aside – withering like self-replicating worms - it's sequential, isn’t it?))(parens within parens)

huge thugs. good work all. take 5 (6-1=3)

REPLY:
he's drunk.

ESCUTCHEON:  
blood everywhere

meh, just on the napkin...thank g-d

Geesh, Im surprised he could keep (alive) that long  (plus 0 minus 0)

Comment awaiting approval.

LEAVE A REPLY

the green spice... the melange of cinnamon
transformed into a fresh green
coriander:
oh.... but i'm familiar with the powder
and the seeds...
as much as i am accustomed to the powder
of cumnin and the seeds of cumin:
but i see no fresh leaves
equivalent to that of coriander...
cumin is a dead end to me...
but coriander...
i only need a whiff of the green melange:
the ****:
to know what planet i am on...
i can leave the mushrooms to the monkeys
and ******* to the diabetic crew:
mon strue:
outside on the Tottenham thingy...
alphabet people LGBTQ++++++
MMM:
Moses... Mohammad... Matthew...
mmm: like a ripple that sort of went by
the ****** birth and Jesus the Christ-Metropolitan:
i'm no and never will be
a Cultural Christian according to Richard
Dawkins...
i... hold on... there's talk of dragons:
while you have dinosaurs in the: ******* background...
how do we know...
the Sun is mostly Helium...
and how do we know what wiped out the dinosaurs...
for such a siesmic shock of geology and not history:
the moon should have been destroyed in the process
and there would be none of us...
but the moon was elsewhere
and something godly: freakish happened
and the insect people were drawfed because originally
so horrific
that god the child tried to escape:
and to think of god as man:
the eternal friend
this frightened child living through
the birth of hitory to arrive at us
and at us our worst:
and even when at our best Crucifed...
at worst oh such differences...
me and this black girls: two Origins of Africa Stories
not really the ones desperate:
educated hmm mmm yum yums:
i like my ox-tail curry: this is unlike every
other white man...
i am not, like every other white man...
Africans partisan with Polynesians Unite...
this one white boy is getting off the slave
ship and heading toward the Rat Raft...
snibble cushions and pillows:
ducks pecking... pecking duck...
chop chop... two JEWS flew from New York
but had a squabble of pennies of
buying sandwitches and water...
drank the water kosher glug glug
but left the sandwitches...

why fear god?
motto: i prescribe an answer greater
than that of...
what is the meaning of life...
why fear god?

            because god is scared...
the human eternity ethos
of ambivalence...
this pristine condition of mind and body:
the soul... time impersonal and personal:
the project amassed in soul eternal
only now magnified and made flesh:
collectively: not by a single man on a cross:
collectively:
but by us all...
             but by us all!

i don't have the german dictionary handy...
sorry... not sorry: alphabet people gq+++cqeer+++
even she complained:
you haven't written about anything in a long while:
write to me about nothing:
life... blah blah...
o.k. Reyla?!                 Edie?¬                Eva?
or is there a harem of women in
my life that i don't want to disturb?

ugh!
ha ha i get the joke! over the radio
i heard and giggled... spectator wears
high viz not part of Paris REvolt:
want's to be seen on Match of the Day
Camera... ha ha... kindsa cute...
i say these profound names:
my god changes pace...
i don't know what to do:
i try to remind myself of the mind-body
dichotomy:
the Anti-Cartesian fusion of the mind-body
duality...
i Berlin: believe in a dichotomy...
originating:
more have suffered more than Christ's own
sacrifice...
the iron maiden: being: impalled...

via **** through to the tongue:
gog: gag at magog...
what was so funny?
      if i could only remember "my", "own": "life":
what is mine? nothing: perhaps time...
and personality mud..
own? for now? i will depart this world
with a sadness...
you will need no books in heaven...
i cry in heaven:
heaving the darkness and a memory:
but i saw god and it was in writing
and among the flutters of angel wings
in the pages of books!
do books exist in either heaven; or hell?!

borrowing from Dante:
shadows of former selves:
personalities of the greatest of men...
what was so funny...
i wonder...
i missed something... Edminton...
consolation:
white boy Jesus and the long supper of Africa...
the dulce vita
of white girl journalism
was a: squirrel: in hiding.