Corona Virus Poems

 
Index
The virus from hell is amused
End of the World
Every Day I Turn on the New
Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
Chaos
Corona Virus Fears Tanka
My Phobias Overwhelm Me
Fear Fills the Air
Is this the best we can get?
More Trouble Every Day
by pass the alarms spreading across the land
corona cinqku
Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
A lone man stands in an empty parking lot
hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
The Virus King Cried
Bring out your dead
the Virus Came From Hell
The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the corona virus is testing us all
the call goes out
the horsemen begin to ride
nature spirits revolts against humanity
Last Human on Island
Corona Virus Haiku
the virus came from hell
bring out your dead cries
Be Afraid  haiku
Death Comes Knocking
the virus from Hell haiku

 

the Virus from Hell is amused
the Virus from Hell is amused
laughing at the world’s panicked reaction
as it marches through the world unabated
infecting everyone in its wake
as the world awaits its fate
the virus smiles he ain’t no fake
he is the real deal
he is death itself
he is the end of the world
the grim reaper is smiling
god is silent as usual
the world’s leaders
dither and rather
as the economy craters
everyone hoping that God
will save them
the virus does not care
insults and orders do not work
the virus simply does its virus thing
infecting everyone it encounters
and thousands will die
equal opportunity offender
killing the rich and the poor alike
but more poor people
just so many more poor people
than the few billionaires
the virus smile
his work is done
and mankind is doomed
so be it the virus thinks




that is the way of the world
and the virus is the new king
of the world
 
End of the World
end of world
the fears world-wide
soon find us dead
bring out the dead
ll the dead die
death lies here there
there goes here
as death here comes
soon here death comes
 

Every Day I Turn on the News
debunking the bioweaapon conspiracy theories
every day I turn on the news
nothing but news about the virus
the virus from hell
the world is filled with fear
and my anxiety levels rise
every time I turn on the news
oh my god I say
we are all going to die
and I am so afraid
afraid of everyone
afraid of everything
dreading the latest news
and nothing relieves my fear
I watch the world
loosing its collective mind
wondering how much more of this
can  we all take
I scream out
Dear God save us all
god is silent as usual
and so I realized
we are doomed
perhaps it is the end times
perhaps not
I turn off the TV
try to stay calm
hoping the madness
will not overwhelm us all

 
Irony Meters Blow Gaskets
the Irony meter gasket
is blown again and again
with every statement
of our chaos president
and his endless surrogates
promoting the latest Presidential
on spot guidance by our great leader
that must be true
because our dear leader
says it is so
The President accuses his democratic rival
of being senile and needs to be in home
and will be run by his radical left allies
and the right wing media
echoes the presidential absurd comments
refusing to acknowledge
that the president himself
is rapidly fading into dementia
and his radical right cronies
are looting the government
driving out expertise
even in the midst of pandemic
Oh  yeah the irony meters
are blowing gaskets
every single day
 
Chaos
the world descends into chaos
as our world leaders
led by the chaos president
are overwhelmed
by the smallest
enemy of all
a simple virus
straight out of hell
blows through the crumbling
third world public health infrastructure
living proof of the decline of America
and no one is prepared
and panic ensures
with every Presidential tweet
as people don’t believe
a word he says
conspiracy rumors spread
everyone believes their own reality
as the world spins out of control
the chaos king is in his element
convince that only he knows
the deal
and everyone else
is iust a bit player
in the reality show
that he presides over
and so the rest of us
hunker down
just hoping for the best
as the panic and
chaos spreads faster
than the virus
are we doomed
can we survive
will God save us?
he is silent as always
 
Corona Virus Fears Tanka
Corona virus
lurking fears all around me
we all will die
the TV screaming nonstop
Must be afraid be afraid
 
My Phobias Overwhelm Me
lately I have become scared
of everything
the news scares me, the corona virus scares me, the presidential race scares me, fears of gun men in the street, terrorism, fears of getting sick, fears of dogs, fears of other people, fear of loosing money, fears of becoming demented old man, lost in his nightmares on the street just another invisible homeless *** in the end of his life
all these phobias overwhelm me
time to walk away from my fears
and realize
it will be alright
everything will be alright
As long as I have you
by my side
 
Fear Fills the Air

watching the news
CNNMSNBCFOXBBCKOREANNEWSJAPANESENEWSBLOOMBERABCCBSNBCGOOGLEA­PPLEREUTERSAPIRUSSIANTVCHINESTVFRENCHTV
blather on and on
the world is ending
pandemic is coming
we are going to die
and the fear grows
and the restrictions grow
travel comes to stop
the economy comes to  a stop
everyone is so afraid
our leaders fret
say that everything is fine
as the world enters
the second great depression
and we are faced
with the reality
all over the world
idiots in high places
the masters of the universe
are in charge
the internet spreads
the wildest rumors
must be true
I read it on the internet
the truth is lost
in the shuffle
no one believes anyone
everything thinks
that they know
it is all a conspiracy
the thought comes to mind
we are all so ’S….
end of the world
is upon us
 
is this the best we can get?
watching the news
one wonders
how in this great country
of ours
335 million people
among the most educated
richest people in the world
we can end up
with such idiots in high places
running out country?
these idiots in charge
no disrespect intended
both political parties
all corporations
and our institutions
except maybe the military
has been infected
by this virus
of epic incompetence
greed and indifference
to the general good
who loudly constantly proclaim
that they are Christians
while violating
all of Christ's teachings
Jesus if he came back
would scream out
I am not Christian
it is all about me
and mine
and you can go
to hell
if you dare to disagree
and so we tweet and titter
and watch the news
reading the latest rumors
and I wonder
if there is a god
or if there is a devil
and are we overwhelmed
by the dismal news
why can’t we have better
leaders
better people
in our leaders
around the world
has god abandoned us
are we in hell
or did god ever exist
except in our fevered imagination
will god save us all
or will the world
just go around the sun
indifferent to our pleas?
no answer
must watch the news
consumed by the need
to see the latest news
and so it goes
and I wake up
the sun is up
and the nightmares
fade away
until I watch the news
and the madness consumes
us all again and again
as the corona virus
marches on and on
consuming us all
as the world falls apart
these must be the end times
I hope I will be raptured away
even if I am not a Christian

More Trouble Every Day
The Old Zappa song plays
on in my head
every time I turn on the news
and see more trouble every day
no one can delay
the trouble coming every day
Frank Zappa died too soon
before the horrors of the Trump era
and the corona end of the world plague
that he would have foreseen
if he had lived on
he was truly a prophet
crying in the wildness
while making money
as an over night sensation
as he saw the slime
oozing out of the TV sets
we will do what we are told
for the rights to us have been sold
And Jesus too
has been sold
to the highest bidder
nothing but a business deal
in America
the land of the constant deal
and so I turn off the TV
and realize that
the torture never ends
the torture never ends
 
Trouble Every Day
more trouble every day  Frank Zappa
Well I'm about to get sick
From watchin' my TV
Been checkin' out the news
Until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean to say that every day
Is just another rotten mess
And when it's gonna change, my friends
Is anybody's guess
So I'm watchin' and I'm waitin'
Hopin' for the best
Even think I'll go to prayin'
Every time I hear 'em sayin'
That there's no way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
No way to delay
That trouble comin' every day
Wednesday I watched the riot...
I seen the cops out on the street
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff
And chokin' in the heat
Listened to reports
About the whisky passin' 'round
Seen the smoke & fire
And the market burnin' down
Watched while everybody
On his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash
And slash and bust…
 
The Torture Never Stops
Frank Zappa
torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
Prisoners grumblin
**** they clothes
Scratch their matted hair
A tiny light from a window-hole
Hundred yards away
That all they ever get to know
'Bout the regular life in the day
'Bout the regular life in the day
Slime and rot and rats and snuck
***** on the floor
Fifty ugly soldier men
Holdin' spears by the iron door
Stinks so bad, stones are chokin'
Weepin' greenish drops
In the den where
The giant fire puffer works
And the torture never stops
The torture never stops, torture
The torture never stops
The torture never stops
Flies all green and buzzin'
In this dungeon of despair
An evil prince eats a steamin' pig
In a tumbers right near there
In the chambers right near there
He eats de snouts an trotters first!…

 
by pass the alarms spreading across the land
to bypass the alarms spreading across the land
the circuit breakers are breaking down
as the alarms go on and on
with the end of the world
the end days approaching
spreading the alarm far and wide
 
corona cinqku
corona
it came from hell
we must be all prepared
meet God

 
Taking a Walk in the Corona Era
every day I go for a walk
in the spring time woods
near my house
braving the weather
and the dreaded corona virus
wearing masks and gloves
keeping a distance
from anyone we encounter
that is life it seems
in the era of the corona virus
when will it end
no one knows
until then
I will brave the viral threat
and confront my fears
and walk in the park
with the love of my life
my bride my wife
by my side
in these challenging times
that is all we can do
 
A lone man stands in an empty parking lot

contemplating the new normal
social distancing run amuck
as fears of the corona super plague
plague the land
driving everyone inside
sheltering in place
afraid to go out
afraid of the deadly c virus
 
It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
It is a hell of a world we live in ain’t it?
said the old man to me
sitting on a bench
in the park in the woods
as we both sought shelter
from the spreading chaos
the pandemic swirling around us
Yes I said
standing up
to enforce the proper distance
between us
don’t want to give the virus a chance
to spread between us
he smiled and said
relax I already went through it
I am fine and you will too
 
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
Pause for a moment amidst the media madness
All around us fears and chaos
Unlike the end of the world approaching us
Sadness overcomes us dooming us to our fate
Every we go nothing but death awaits
 
I feel as if the whole world needs to be cancelled
I feel as if the whole worldneeds to be canceled
due to rough times ahead
due to the corona madness
and the thread of pure craziness
that it inspires in us all
 
The Virus King Cried

the virus king smiled
as the politicians lied
saying that the end was near
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king sneered
as people panicked
and partied on the beach
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king laughed
as the markets crashed
millions became unemployed
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king roared
as the world slid into chaos
people turning on one another
the virus king infected thousands more
and killed hundreds of people
the virus king smirked
knowing that there was nothing
that they could do to stop
his army from infecting millions
and killing thousands
the virus King begin to realize
that soon there would be no one left
no one for his army to infect
as everyone was dying
the virus King yelled
remaining defiant
as civilization collapsed
billions were infected
millions died
the Virus King at last cried
when he saw that he was defeated
as one by one
people began to recover
and his reign of terror came to an end

Bring out your dead
the call bring out your dead
spreads around the world
as millions die
all over the world
the virus has spread
mutated and killed
all over the world
bring out your dead
the mournful cries
echoing in the wind
of the dying cities
mass starvation
as no is working
in the fields
as more people die
and the world spins
around the sun
with the politicians lying
and the dead still dying
as civilization dies
and humanity flee
into the wilderness
chased by the killer virus
straight down to hell
 
the Virus Came From Hell
the virus came from hell
straight out of a mad lab
born and raised in China
the virus spread from Dinah
all over to carolina
it spread from the lab
the mad virus of Hell
was mad as hell at humans
who it blamed for everything
seeing itself as cleansing everything
killing the world and everything
revenge against humans
perhaps virus came from God
more likely came from Satan
part of natures’ revenge
all designed to avenge
the damage to Stonehenge
virus came from Satan
 
The Delivery System of the Virus is Round
the delivery system of the virus is round
very simple system
the virus spreads around
and all must pay the price
death and destruction
 
the corona virus is testing us all

the corona virus
is testing us all
is it a plague
sent by God

if we have faith
will we recover

or it is beyond our control
the end of the world

does god hear our prayers
does god even exist

the virus from hell
spreads around the world

and test our faith
will god save us all

I have no answer
but perhaps if god exists

we will recover
from this plague
from hell



The call goes out

the call goes out
stay at home
to beat the dreaded c virus

will we live
or all die?
 
the four horse men ready to ride

the end of the world is upon us
as god unleashes the corona virus
which is spreading across the land

the four horse men are ready
to begin their grim journal
announcing the end of the world

the white horse comes first
offering peace and hope
in the midst of death
and despair

the red horse rides second
ushering in war
throughout the world
as nations turn on each other
and civil war looms

the Black Horse is ready
unleashing famine
on a starving world
as people stay at home
and food rots in the field

no one is able
to work any more
as the virus kills more
and more

the pale horse rides last
bringing death
in his wake

death all around us
as the virus kills us all
and civilization ends

the four horse men
have done their job
the virus finishes its reign of terror
and the few survivors
beging to recover

end of the world
came and went
and they are still alive
thanks to God

who remains silent
as always

nature spirits revolt against humanity

all around the world
nature's spirits
are on the move

the world is changing
as the nature's spirits
rise up
in revolt against humanity

is this the end time
is nature on revolt
against humanity

is this the end for us all
will the virus **** us all
will nature rise up
and **** us all?
 
Last Human on Island

Last human on an island
in the deep blue sea
nothing there
but death and destruction

virus all around
pandemic plague
Apocalyptic views
end of times
death of civilization

 


corona virus

corona virus
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
the virus came from hell

the virus came from hell
staying home waiting for death
Afraid everything  
Bring Out Your Dead

bring out your dead cries
break out all over the world
we are waiting death



death comes knocking

death comes knocking
on our doorsteps tonight
will God hear prayers



be afraid afraid

be afraid afraid
Must be afraid every one
Death is at our door


The Virus Came From Hell


the virus came from Hell
ravaging the entire world
all waiting for death

Snarling Cup of Coffee    




I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day
as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room

Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a ******* snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee

I mean, - we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, ******, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ***, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, ****** vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists,

Zoroastrians, drinking my god ****** coffee in Hell;

growling, gnarly, happy, hard as ice, Hawaian blessed, high as a kite, hippie, hip, hipster, hip hoppy, hot as hell yet strangely sweet as heaven, jazzy, jealous, Kerouac approved, kick ***, kick my ******* *** to Tuesday, kick down the doors and take no prisoners, grown in the Vietnam highlands by exVietcong, Guatemalan grown, kiss ***, illegal in every state, imported from all over the ******* world,

insane, lovely, loony, lonely, lonesome, malodorous mean old rotten, *******, nasty, narcotic, never whatever, never meh, never cold, not approved by the CIA, not approved by DHS, not approved for human consumption by the FDA, not your daddy’s sissified corporate cup of coffee, NOT DECAFE coffee, not your Denny’s truck driver weak as brown water cup of fake coffee, not your establishment friendly cup of coffee, Not your FBI coffee, Not FAKE Herbal coffee substitute, but a real cup of coffee, not your farmer brothers dinner crap, not made in America for Americans, not safe for work, not your Starbucks average expensive overpriced ****** corporate chain cup of coffee, Not pretentious, Not White House approved, not State Department safe, nuclear, Not Patriotic, operatic, Peets’s coffee approved,

paranoid, pornographic, psychotic, pontific, politically aware, rapping, rhyming, right here, right now in River city, rock and roll up the Yazoo, sad, sadistic, sarcastic, sassy, satanic, schizoid, *******, silly, ****, smarmy, smelly, smooth, snarky, snarling, stupid, stinking, sweet as honey, sweat inducing, symphonic, Trump can’t handle this coffee, vengeful, Wagnerian, wicked, with nutmeg and cinnamon swirls, with a hint of stevia, with a hint of vanilla, with a hint of ***, with a hint of whisky, with a hint of cherry, with a hint of fruit overtones, with a hint of drugs spicing up the coffee, spendific, speeding, splendid, superior accept no substitutes, survived the Vietnam war, the Iraq war, the Afghan war, the first and Second Korean war, World War 11, the war on poverty, the war on drugs, the war on black people, the ****** revolution,

Soulful as a summer’s night in MOTOWN- James Brown approved, TOP approved, Berkeley approved, the coffee that Jimmy Hendrix drank before he died, the coffee that Elvis drank on his last breakfast, the coffee that Barry White crooned as he drank his cup of coffee – and the coffee that made the white boy play stand up and play that funky music, the coffee that made Jonny B Goode play his guitar, and made Jonny bet the devil his soul after he drank his morning cup of righteous coffee and the coffee that make the Rolling Stones Rock and Roll, the coffee your mother warned you against drinking, the coffee that Napoleon drank when he became the Emperor of all Europe, the Coffee that Beethoven drank when he wrote the Ninth symphony, the coffee that Mozart drank as he wrote his last symphony, the coffee that Lincoln drank before he was killed, the Hemingway drank before he killed himself, the coffee that started the 60’s, and ended the 20th century,

the coffee that Lenin drank as he plotted revolution, the coffee that ****** and Stalin drank with FDR as they divided up the world after World War 11, the cup that JFK drank before he was blown away, the coffee Jerry drinks while driving in cars with random celebrities and political figures, the coffee that Jon Stewart drinks before he goes on an epic take down of some foolish politico, the cup of Arabic coffee that Sadaam drank the day he was executed, the coffee that GW and Cheney drank when they bombed Baghdad, the Indian cup of coffee that Bid Laden drank before 9-11 and just before the seals blew his *** to hell, the cup of coffee that Tiger Woods drank with his mistresses while playing a 3, 000 dollar round of golf at Sandy Lane golf course in Barbados, the last legal drug that does what drugs should do, the cup of coffee that Obama drank when he became President, Vietnamese, Vienna brew, wacky, whimsical,

Whisky Tango Foxtrot, wild, weird, wonderful, WOW, Yabba dabba doo! Yada Yada yada Zappa’s favorite cup of cosmic coffee, and Zorro’s last cup of coffee, Good to the last drop rolled into one simple cup of hot coffee   
As I pound down that first cup of coffee
And fire up my synaptic nerve endings with endless supplies
Of caffeine induced neuron enhancing chemicals

I face the dawning day with trepidation and mind-numbing fear
I turn on the TV and watch the smarmy newscasters in their perfect hair

Lying through their perfect blazing white teeth
about the great success the government is having
Following the great leader's latest pronouncements

I want to scream
and shoot the TV
and run out side

Shouting
Stop the world!
I want to get
off this ******* crazy planet"

The earth does not care a whit
about my attitude problem

It merely shrugs
and moves around the Sun
In its appointed daily run

the universe whispers
in my ear
time to drink more coffee
for an attitude adjustment

And I sit down
The madness dissipating a bit
And enjoy my second cup
Of heaven and hell
In my morning cup of Joe

Coffee Revolutions



coffee cup
Coffee led to the American Revolution<span
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against
the aristocratic English tea

Coffee started the London Stock Market
And started the gossip mills running
Every great invention
Was fed by coffee's sweet brew
sweet allure

All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved
to coffee's magic

I sing my praises
Of the great
glorious coffee lady

Long may she continue
To be my sweet companion

Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart
on fire

Ode to Coffee



Mistress of sacred love
Sacred lady of desire

You start my day
Setting my heart on fire
With your dark delicious brew 

And throughout the day
Whenever the mean old blues come by
You chase them away

With your bittersweet ambrosial brew
Every time I inhale your witch's brew

I am filled with power, light and love
And everything is al right Jack
If only for a few fleeting minutes

I love you oh coffee goddess
In all your magical forms

In the dark coffee of the dawning day
In the sizzling coffee in the mid morning break
In the afternoon siesta break
And in the post dinner desert drink

I love you my coffee mistress
You are my refuge
From this horrid world

And you are my secret lover
Never disappoint me, ever
I've never had a bad cup
Of that I can be sure

Even the dismal coffee
Served at Denny's at 3 am
Is still sweet loving coffee

Even the farmer brother's diner coffee
Excites me and gets me going
Asking for another cup of divine delight

Coffee always is there
It is always on and piping hot
With hidden dark secrets
Swirling in its liquid essence

Coffee is my last vice
My only legal vice left

Coffee does not cheat on me
It is always faithful, always true
It does not turn on its friends

And all it asks in return
Is that you come back
Cup after cup after cup

A good cup of coffee
Is a little bit of heaven
In a cup of dark liquid hell

Coffee is like a drug
But a good drug that does what is should
And never complains

It does not get grouchy
It does not hurt you

It does not make you crazy
But allows the muse to come out
And play with it

Coffee led to the American Revolution
As patriots drank coffee
To rebel against the aristocratic English tea

Coffee started the London Stock market
And started the gossips mills running

Every great invention
Was fed by coffee's sweet brew
sweet allure

All the great thinkers
All the great leaders
All were enslaved to coffee's magic

Yeah
I sing my praises
Of the great glorious coffee lady

Long may she continue
To be my sweat companion

Long may coffee continue
To rule my heart
And set my heart on fire

I love thee
Mistress coffee
And sometimes I think
You love me too

No More Coffee Blues








I love coffee
Always have

And coffee has loved me back
But lately I have soured on her
Soured on the whole coffee scene

On the harshness
of the morning brew
And the promises it makes

As I sip of its nectar
Drawn into its lair

Drinking drop by drop
As the caffeine takes over

Rewriting my every nerve
Turning me into a slave
For its perverted pleasure

Yes I love coffee
But I am afraid

Coffee is a harsh mistress
Demanding so much of me

Promising the sun
And delivering the moon

As I drink her swill
Deepening under her influence

I have the coffee blues
Can’t live without her
Can’t live with her

I try
But tea does not cut it
Not really

***** does not do it
At least not in the morning

Yoga is not enough of a buzz
Nor is the runner’s high

And I am afraid deadly afraid of *******
And speed and drugs and energy drinks

And so I remain a slave to coffee
My only legal drug

As I sip another
and fall under
her seductive spread

Once more failing my resolve
To skip coffee for that day
That morning that moment

I shall never be free of her spell
Ever and she knows it
As she beckons me
Every morning with her intoxicating smell

And I come to her
and drink her brew

And become her slave
again and again

Coffee Ya Du





must drink coffee
have every day
the morning dawns
drinking my coffee as I yawn

Morning cup of coffee 



every morning
I drink my coffee
as I contemplate 
the dawning day

watching the news anchors
blather on and on
drinking my coffee
thinking of life

and my coffee
consumes me
overwhelms me
and at time controls me

after all coffee is a drug
and I am her slave
from time to time

Drinking Coffee in the Morning



in the morning
dangerous mood
felling deranged
watching the news

trigger warning
you are ******* dude
end of the world
the end times come

I drink coffee
in the morning



Coffee *** Killed





His wife has banned my use
by my owner
says he makes too much
of a mess when he uses me

it is not his fault
I want to say
but being a coffee ***
can not speak

and so I am abandoned
thrown out into the trash

and feel very sad
for my owner

who was my friend
he liked me

he keep me going
and I did my job

providing him
with fresh coffee

doing my coffee *** duty
and now it is over

Drinking My Coffee


drinking coffee

drinking my coffee
early in the cool morning
thinking life is fine

everything will be okay
after I drink my coffee

morning coffee



morning coffee

dawning sun 











coffee MGur Poem


coffee

I pray to the coffee gods
every cup of coffee
is like a sacrament to me

I pray as I drink my coffee
that it will fill me
with wisdom

and find peace
with my coffee

as I drink
my devotion

Hot coffee


cup of coffee


take coffee with you
Hot hot coffee, makes my day -

Must drink My daily coffee, as the morning dawns - 

With out my morning coffee

in me,  I feel nothing at all -

Electrified Hot Coffee



coffee is the drug of choice
nothing else will do it
as I drink coffee
Electrified
Hot Coffee

Hot Coffee and Cake


coffee
coffee is the drug of choice
electrified circuits
as I drink coffee
coffee and cake



Coffee Patina



coffee
hot coffee
hot Hellish Heaven
Essence of coffee

Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
?There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.

Sinking like a carelessly cosmic ****** on the 4th of J-U-L-Y, while a distressed young mountain lion lies on your feet.

Watch out for the cautious rubber shark inside the lines. It'd be something like Frank Zappa stuck on a deserted island with a dealer of his liking or disdain. 

I believe in outlandish crazy industrialists in the distance between here and nowhere. 

Lucifer has been infused with witchcraft and crack *******. Mindless *******. Thank your God. 

Excellent nutrition is being presented as gluttony. Which in turn has caused your little sister to make daily offerings to a porcelain god. 

Pleasure didn't invent rebellion but rebellion did however invent pleasure. Don't confuse the two. 

A believer is magnetically drawn to immorality, much like man is to faith. 

Inspiration simply radiates free energy and a smile should never be compared to a frown. 

Dreaming can be mistaken for productivity. Dream big people, dream big.

When I take notes in school,
I write down what I want to know,
for my own personal growth.
Not necessarily what's going to be on the next test or quiz,
which I believe sometimes are two completely different things.
I copy what gives me interest or intrigue
and what I think I should see.
I am not going to let myself over-look information I deem important
to conform to cirriculum and write down what the masses are.
It screws with my grades.
But I'd rather have the satisfaction of knowledge inside me than on a piece of paper.
Call me selfish, but I think the school system and who runs it is selfish."

Moon unit Zappa
smile
whip *******

Zowie Bowie
alias
Duncan Jones
Zappa film Moon

Rolan Bolan
the real
pinball wizard.

Saturday April 17

You are my Lode Star

in the morning dawning light
you are always there
you are my lode star
my sunshine, my moonshine
the love of my life, my wife
with your endless love
I will face the evil corrupted world
even walk through the shadow of death
as long as you by my side
I will fear no evil for you are with me
and I will love you
until death takes me
from your your loving embrace


another Nigerian spam found poem

the Nigerians keep sending me
and millions of others
delightedly creative spam messages
this is one of the nicer ones
I have received

Enjoy
but don’t send her any money!!!!!

Good day Child of God,

Calvary Greetings
in the name of the LORD Almighty
and Our LORD JESUS CHRIST
the giver of every good thing.

Good day and compliments of the seasons,
i know this letter
will definitely come to you
as a huge surprise,

I humbly
ask you to give me
your attention
and hear me,

i am writing this mail
to you
with heavy sorrow
in my heart,


but I implore you
to take the time
to go through it  carefully
as the decision you make


will go off a long way
to determine
my future
and continued existence.

I am Mrs. Esther Heidi
aging widow of 61 years old
suffering from long time illness.

I have some funds
I inherited from my late husband
, the sum of ($17 Million Dollars) a

And I needed a very honest
and God fearing  
who can withdraw this money
then use the funds for Charity works

I WISH TO GIVE THIS FUNDS
TO YOU FOR CHARITY WORKS.
I found your email address
from the internet

after honest prayers  
to the LORD
to bring me a helper

and i decided to contact you
if you may be willing
and interested to handle
these trust funds in good faith
before anything happens to me.

I accept this decision
because I do not have any child
who will inherit this money
after I die.

I want your urgent reply
to me so that I will give you
the deposit receipt
which the bank issued to me
as next of kin
for immediate transfer of the money

to your account in your country,
to start the good work of God,
I want you to use the 30/percent
of the total amount to help
yourself in doing the project.

I am desperately
in keen need of assistance
and I have summoned
up courage to contact you

for this task,
you must not fail me
and the millions of the poor people
in our todays WORLD.

This is no stolen money
and there are no dangers involved,
100% RISK FREE
with full legal proof.


Please if you would be able
to use the funds for the Charity
(Note: I would use the money
to invest in the Church of Jake)

I want you to
take 30 percent of the total money
for your personal use
while 70% of the money
will go to charity.

I will appreciate your utmost confidentiality
and trust in this matter to accomplish
my heart desire, as I don't want anything
that will jeopardize my last wish.

Please kindly
respond for further details.

Thanks and God bless you,

Regards

Mrs. Esther Heidi

comment: the sad reality
is that 10 percent
of people fall for these scams
and loose lots of money

whole towns in Nigeria
exist to exploit the world
they call themselves
the 404 army

if it is too good to be true
it is probably not true

end comment


Last Day of America

the last day of America
was the day we last voted
the last election we ever had

for on that day
a month before
the corona virus re-emerged

as the great re-opening
of the US economy
failed to stop the relentless spread
of the virus from hell

causing panic and mass confusion
fear kept Americans home

and Donald Trump
was re-elected

because his voters
believed that God
had told them to vote
for their new found king

the newly energized President Trump
declared a national emergency
martial law
and suspension of the constitution

Promising to restore democracy
when the time was right

he promised his followers
that he would restore Christian values
renaming the United States
the Christian States of America

on that date
we met our fate

Christian fascism
was here to stay
on the last day
of American

writers digest prompt - last blank




the Conqueror Worm Corona Sonnet

Lo, t’s a galla night
within the lonesome later years
when around the world
the dreaded corona virus showed its might
spending fear to those in their later years
that it might take them in the night
that before the sun came up
their time on earth would end up
DEATH IS COMING
TO US ALL
NONE CAN ESCAPE?WE?AWAIT
FATE

# content tracing: the Conqueror Worm By Edgar Allan Poe

writing.com corona sonnet form challenge



my Mother’s secret life as a mad poet   Not for publication - remove from Poetry soup etc



one day I discovered
an unpublished poem
that my mother
had written

when she was in the midst
of her madness
before dementia silenced
the voices in her head

she had typed it out
and hid it among her papers
I read it while going through her stuff
decided to kept it

and reflected up it
over the years

my mother was born
perhaps 40 years too soon
for she was a true free spirit
a truly original thinker

and I wished
she had published
her writings

in her story
she talked about
the endless blame
that she felt

besieged on all sides
by the demands
of her children
and her cold unfeeling husband
who just did not get her

her poem speaks for itself

A Mother's Blues

How much longer can I live
With the thin edge of hysteria
And constant paranoia?

The slightest misstep on my part
Unleashes a tirade of my past sins, real and imagined--because I am the enemy.

I can't be true to myself
Since if I disagree

Even in the friendliest manner
The 16-mm. guns are revved up for a full-scale counter attack.

I wonder that I am still functioning.
By now almost anyone known to me

Has been subjected to the most agonizing kind of torture
And my humiliation is almost complete.

The phone calls I have gotten
Asking if that is my real position?

Or even worse asking
What am I doing
To cause such unprecedented allegations
Of provoking suicide
Are almost unbelievable.

And yet I have to listen,
In no way say or do anything that would even suggest
That anyone else than myself is the cause

And that the correction must come from me.

The reason is that when I am able
I do not want to let anyone else think differently

Since I persist
In the notion
That this is private
And there should be no intrusions.

But then late at night
When I am exhausted
And with no more defenses
My vulnerability is so effectively exploited.

I turn the other cheek, I change the subject
But then I get cornered

Because there is the screaming insult,
The statement of fact that is not fact

The bitter charges, the assertion of a position
That is they condemned
In the non-stop monologue,

The immediate challenge to get out,
And the endless litany
Of the deepest kind of hatred.

Am I the one to run--I have to no avail.

Am I the one to fight back

I have but to no consequence.

Can I ask for the common decency?
Of being able to sleep for a few hours

So that I can stumble
Through the routine of earning some money
Which goes to support my continued torture.

Do I have the option of fighting all night,
Sleeping all day and then returning to the fray?

Do I even have the right of insisting
The ledger is not all that one-sided?

No, I'm there to assault.

Money in unimportant
And so I don't need to work.
Because when it is all lost the avenger
Will then ride to the rescue
By taking in the laundry.

Do my dreams matter?
No, they are false and of no consequence.
Or, worse they are wrong.
Or, even worse they should be stamped out.

And now my final abjection.  Exhausted, desperately striving for the moment of quiet that precedes a restful sleep a son arrives asking for a chat. I try but I don't want to give advice, as I have none really to give. But my avenging angel swoops in saying why listen to that creep--he's a two-time loser. Did you know all the crimes he has committed?  Once again I could not remain detached and listen to the skill of the assault or the spilling of the hatred so long denied its vengeance.

I fight back and my humiliation is now complete.  Do I have any person left with whom I can feel whole? I am being reduced to a hunted animal.

If I have a kind word for anyone that person is at risk.  Can I fight back?  No, because there is the ultimate blackmail of the constant threat of suicide--I live daily with the fear that my reactions will trigger this.  After all, when the world is tired of hearing how bad I am what can prove it.

Should I finally admit this inevitability and take the only step that can forestall it and that is to move first.  What do I have to lose? NOTHING.  The anguish and hopelessness would finally be at an end.

My twenty-year struggle to do right would be at the end.

My god, how I have suffered but no one has asked since it was the suffering of others that was all that mattered.

How much larger must my burden of guilt become?  When, on when, can I have a reprieve?  Can my debts, real or imagined, ever be paid?


the poem spoke to me
for I was perhaps
her favorite son

for of her children
perhaps I was the only one
that ever got her

and I miss her
every day

and wished
I had told her
that before
dementia took her from us
and took her life

poetry superhighway prompt to write a letter based on your mother’s writings


Plane, Train or Automobile - none of us can escape our fate


in these dark and dire times
we find ourselves living
we often fear that the times
are infected with death

and so we are afraid
deathly afraid
that if we take a plane
we will find  General Corona
among the passengers

and we afraid
deadly afraid
that the subways
are incubators
of death and destruction

the virus spreads
fear and death
in its wake

many of us
retreating to our homes
and venturing out
in our cars

only to find
death is stalking us
as traffic piles up
traffic accidents
still killing more people
that the dreaded General Corona

the grim reaper smiles
his work is done
Satan thanks General. Corona
for a job well done

writing com daily dew drop in prompt


packages

they say
that God works in mysterious ways
his wonders to perform

every day it seems
that more and more
of what we buy
and consume

comes in packages
sent from here and there
as people
continue to practice
social distancing

and going to the store
becomes an exercise
fraught with peril
and danger

so we order
on line
and we get our packages
sent from here and there

one day we received
a gift package
of clams
delicious fresh clams

as I ate them
I thought of the workers
who had labored unseen
for me to enjoy
this bounty from the sea

and I gave thanks
to the gods
for making it happen

in this day and age
we should thank
those who are still
laboring to feed the world

they are the unsung heroes
of this war fought by nature
under the direction
of General Corona


tweeter speak poetry prompt April 16 Packages



computer madness sonnet


computer madness infects my soul
every day when I turn on my PC
and encounter endless  haiku error messages
constant crashing, constant eating my files
at times like this it seems to me
that my mad as a hatter crazed computer
is plotting against me and only me
it wants to drive me quite insane
sending me right around the bend
as I scream at my machine
it beeps at me this **** machine
smiling as I threaten once again
to shoot the hell bound machine

sonnet all poetry computer frustration contest
You have always been my sunshine

You have always been my sunshine
my moonshine, my load star
that guides me in the night
for your sunshine kissed my soul
the day that you walked
out of my dreams
into my life
and became my wife
for 38 years and counting
every morning I see you sleeping
your smile is like the sunshine
that wakes my soul
and banishes the nightmares
back to the dark corners of my mind

love sonnet for all poetry contest on prompt line Sunshine Kissed


Saturday April 18, 2020

Korean Blues Crown of Sonnets

I have been dealing with Things Korean
for almost 40 years now
dealing with a once exotic land
’now my second homeland?
first came to Korea?
in the Peace Corps in Korea?
went to Korea to find the woman
in search of the woman
who haunted my dreams
met the woman
Fell in love with the woman
From Korea who walked out my dreams
In an land still exotic

In a land still exotic
It was a very exotic different land
and even now decades later a new land
remains for most Americans
still a strange land exotic
but much more known land
in the US
due to K drama, K Pop,
Koreans have become globally cool but still exotic
Many of my fellow Americans
may know a few people from Korea
and some have served or lived in Korea
but to most of the us Americans
it remains over there still exotic
a strange Asian exotic land
A strange Asian Exotic land
I fell in love with that exotic land
now I spend half my time living Korean time
half in the U.S. time
and due to the corona time
will be here for some time
and well Korea
no longer an exotic land
as I am now just living in Korea
my thoughts half Korean
and even dream in Korean
so be it near the end of my time
I am back where I began
Writer digest prompt write an exotic poem wrote my first crown of sonnet form too, and it mostly rhymes! go figure




Cosmic Debris  Corona Sonnet


use as sample for remaining corona sonnet

the Conqueror Worm Corona Sonnet

Lo, t’s a galla night
within the lonesome later years
when around the world
the dreaded corona virus showed its might
spending fear to those in their later years
that it might take them in the night
that before the sun came up
their time on earth would end up
DEATH IS COMING
TO US ALL
WE  
WAIT
LATE
FATE


# content tracing: the Conqueror Worm By Edgar Allan Poe

writing.com corona sonnet form challenge



for Posting 2.  Cosmic Debris Corona sonnet 2

I received a mysterious email package
followed by a phone call offering me a magical mask
a mask that they claim would prevent me
from the dreaded General Corona
hey there
who you jiving with that cosmic debris
a mask that they did not want me
me to know about
TOP SECRET CODE 2 LEVEL  STUFF
MUST    ACT   NOW
SEND MONEY  ASAP
BUY
IT
NOW

# content tracing-  “Cosmic Debris by Frank Zappa”
with apologies to Frank Zappa




No More Ties for Me!

When I retired
I made three vows
to myself

first, I would spend
my remaining life
loving my wife

second, i would never wear a tie again
unless it was a real special occasion
as I hated wearing ties and suits

wore a suit and tie
almost every day
of my life

as a teacher
later as a foreign service officer
all over the world

last year of my job
I only wore a tie
on "tie worthy occasions"

since then I have been
tie free
except for a wedding

and I love it
hated suits and ties
just not Berkeley enough

for my free spirit
too **** corporate
and I don’t care anymore

and in Oregon, where I lived
no one wore a tie,
not the Oregon way

oh the last thing
I shave twice a month now
used to hate shaving

but I also don't like
a full shaggy itchy beard

and I shaved every day

for years and years
except when I was in the hospital
for a year

and I grew to love
having a beard
back then

back to the office
started shaving again
every **** day

now I do my thing
no office for me
and no more daily shaving

and a beard is also
very Northern Cal/Northwest
Oregonian Chic

so once every two weeks
is a good compromise
my beard is now a poet’s face

and so I hope to keep
these three vows
until my time is done

writing com Daily Dew Drop Inn prompt to write a poem about a piece of clothing





Corona Consumes Me  Corona Sonnet  3

I am consumed by the corona virus
and I am slowly being taken over
as the virus infects my mind
taking me over turning me
into a wild raving zombie man
Let there be light
will I become the first
ZOMBIE APOLYCAPASE LOOMS
WILL WE ALL DIE
CORONA
KILLS
ME

content tracing - Let there be light from Bible and the entire Zombie Apocalypse genre where the Zombie flu started usually in China as a flu and then morphs into the zombie disease



Sunday April 19, 2020

for posting General Corona Leads His Troops Into Battle, crown of sonnets

General Corona leads his forces across the world
riding on a black horse
from out of the Apocalypse  ride the four horsemen
which are let loose upon the world
He leads his forces across the world
into battle as the leader of his evil forces
The enemy of humanity
General Corona he does not care
nor does his virus minions care
about your nationality he does not care
about your politics he does not care
or your wealth or who you are
for all you are nothing but humanity
the corona general sees humanity
the corona general sees humanity
as nothing but hosts for his virus army

as nothing but hosts for his virus army
chanting death to humanity
until his evil army
sweeps throughout the world
throughout the world
and millions must die
it is the will of the general all must die
and it is the end of the world
or perhaps the beginning of a new world
filled with hope and love through out the world
humanity comes alive throughout the world
fighting back against the virus army
peace, love and compassion defeats the army
and general corona will finally himself die




Voice Message for God

dialing 202-346-5666  Beep
You have reached GOD
Press 1 for English, Press 2 for Spanish
leave a message or prayer
and maybe an angel will call you
will get back to you Beep
Hey GOD someone sent me your number
and well I hope I’ve reached your number
I don’t know where to start that’s the point
GOD I am scared of you
all the time is my point
I am so afraid, so scared
of the dreaded General Corona
and his invisible army is my point

and his invisible army is my point
forcing me to stay at home
and I am sacred
that you anointed the wrong man  
to be our leader, that makes me sacred
not to second guess you man
your will be done and all of that man
but GOD, can’t you do better job my man
of anointing our leaders to serve under GOD
of all the people in the U.S. dear God
this is the best you can do?, man?
I mean you picked perhaps the one man
in the world who could be the anti-chris, God
Seriously GOD what is wrong with you? man

Seriously, GOD, what is wrong with you? man
was this all sort of a cosmic joke?
well it ain’t funny any more ain’t no joke
Please GOD make it all go away, man
Please GOD for the love of GOD
and all that is holly and good, man
just make it all go away, GOD
and anoint someone else, man
a real leader for a change, GOD
and let him lead us to the promised land  
this I pray in Jesus’s name, my man
and if I don’t make it, GOD
We have a lot to talk about GOD
See you on the other side, my man

writer digest prompt write a “message Poem” so this is a voice mail to GOD




Every Day I go Back in Time to when she came to Me

every day I go back in time
to the two events that changed my life
to the dream that haunted my life
and the day she walked into my life
and became my wife
I can never forget the dream
falling asleep in the physics class
as the teacher was going on and on
and as I nodded off
I saw here there
standing there
speaking to me
the most beautiful woman
in the entire world

in the entire world
she was speaking to me
and disappeared from my dreams
and I knew that i would be
meeting her some day she would come to me
and so I eventually went to Korea other side of the world
in the Peace corps hoping she would come to me
then one day i had the last and final dream
she said don’t worry she would soon come to me
and then she walked out of my dreams
and there she was she came to me
and so she walked out of my dreams
into my life, became my wife
when she came to me

Poetry Superhighway prompt to write a poem about time travel to your past or your future

.i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!

just one of those nights...
having listened to the scoops
from the alternative...
worried your to hell
about not having *******
enough concerning
the previous day's load
which would make the pleasures
of **** *** look tame...
perched on a windowsill -
solving a sudoku -
   and listening to
Frank Zappa's occam's razor...
and wishing:
  making sure it was never
hot in the city
by Billy Idol,
or Kiss' crazy nights
to usher in the night,
          and the watchman...
why?
   it's not your standard
guitar solo...
it's a medley...
    big difference...
guitar solos are bound to
a strict return to the rhythm
section...
   they are caged beasts...
composed of a restricted
time constrain in a song...
but a guitar medley?
**** me...
     it's what obliterates
a need for vocals...
   the guitar medley is
the vocals substitute...
             and that aspect of music?
mm... gummy bears...
jelly in the knees...
           which is why i like
the fact that jazz is the antithesis
of classical music symphony...
sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann
piano duets...
   nice...
         but jazz?
the breakdown of the quintet?
****... let me count...
piano, drums...
        bass... horn... sax...
yep, a quintet...
          that moment in a jazz
song? where each instrument
player gets his solo?
genius!
            the same with a guitar medley...
neither solo,
  nor the rhythm section...
what a beautiful opening
to what i expect to be,
a beautiful night:
   as the watchman once said.

the far right, the far left,
the alt. right, the progressive left,
the regressive right...

basically an ****** of nouns:
a geyser of prefixes and
whatever suffixes...

trans-exclusionary-radical-feminist...
cis-man...
me­taphysics, alfred jarry
and pata-physics...

hopefully some mention
of ORTHO-graphy...
hard rock... boomer rocker...
a rocking chair...

sides of the waves...
the non-existent natural sculptor...
graveyards as
museums al fresco...
post- "the original sculptor"...

indie right...
googlewhacks?
bothersome hillbilly scam: 16,100 results
locus operandi...
modus operandi...
locus standi...
squat biggerbrain: 3,740 results...
onomatopoeia lombard: 45,600 results...
merovingian golem: 25,700 results...
oh look...
getting close:
⠉⠽⠎⠞ gush: 38 results...
⠉⠽⠎⠞ pataphysics: 5 results...
fingshuan: 9 results...
llyopod ligament tree: 4 results...
lobotomy molotov: 79,000 results...
tref zappa tick tock: 5 results...
trad trap zappa loco: 8 results...
myxedema orpheus: 9,030 results...
myopiacharon: 7 results...
janejeanjacketpuke: 10 results...
(stones in his pockets)
mariejones does *******: 4 results...

epitaphs are maxims: cueue debate...
perhaps more...
chiselching in beijing: 6 results...

⠝          
ⰏmⰑoⰓrⰗFⰅeⰖuⰔs
ל ******* gnat!
sticks to you like a...
nomad sort of letter it's supposed
to be...
******* hitch-hiker...
hitchens et al... atheists etc....
sure... when all the "gentile" gods are
dead... the hebrew degradation of
a demigod will be...
the pulpit and the prayer
and i'm somehow supposed
to "mind"...
etymology bonanza loop: 62,000 results...
dymitra z goraja chleb: 1,680 results...
libero felicjan zach: 902 results...
belz bełz: 17,100 results...
kogelmogel harasho: 124 results...
kogelmogel haraшo: 5 results
чekam na "чat"... чatem - 6 results...
"burden boris with a password"...
chequers cheese and cyrillic: 5 results...
what?!
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc: 4 results...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc gag... 4 results...
after tabernackle... turbanknuckle...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc esq. = 3 results...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋ = 2 results...
nearing a googlewhack...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋φ blue =
2 results...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋φ ж =
2 results...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋φ ж 6 carboxylic:
3 results...
ah... loan words...
equers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋φ ж 6 carboxylic cymes...
2 results... weekend after carboxylic? 3 results...
chequers cheese and cyrillic цc loan Ф⠋φ ж 6 carboxylic хoць:
5 results...

щur gnat: 2 results...
AAAAAH! FOUND ONE!
googlewhack:

щur gnat seq...
https://tinyurl.com/qo3z5km
i knew i'd get one...
i was just hoping it would come...
more or less circa 1am than...
2am... but as Leibniz pointer out:
even if this be the best of all possible worlds...
it's hardly accustomed to
OCD fanatics and those...
quasi-... what do you call them?
i forgot...
if i really minded wanting a ****...
i'd have treated not minding it
in my 20s like some sort of disability...
thank **** that i had
two outlets... a kantian sense of "hobby"...
and access to a brothel...
if you tied me up with but one
drunk irish girl in the vicinity of
goodmayes...
i would still want my dreams
of my great-grandfather back...
in "reality" he remained a ghost figure...
and i have his remains in my mind...
his apparently pristine set of teeth...
how many times did i dream of teeth?
i can't remember...

but i frequent the slow parts of the night...
with dreams of teeth...

my my... just lookat m'ah pearlies!

well... щur: it's szczur... ivoke
a caron above the S and C to hide the ZZ:snooze...
and you... evidently... have yourself...
a rat... gnat? gnat or vermin?
seq. that really does depend...
on what you're "looking" for"
ex genesis...
well... ex nunc / ex iam... etc.

boris brejcha: art of minimal techno tripping
the mad doctor by RTTWLR was my date...
for this... evening...
*** and pistons...
but i wouldn't mind that...
"sad loner" would still rather
listen to those macaques monkeys
in kenya...
up on a tree...
up north...
i pray you stay up into the night...
to hear a crow croak in the night...
it's such a rare event...
i'll beg you...
to hear but one insomnia riddled bird
in the night...
in the night: you will not hear a sparrow...
you ill not hear a pigeon...
birds... birds are very hygienic
in terms of encrusting sleeping patterns
at part of a translation of cognitive health...

stay up all night with me...
replace the wolves with foxes...
and wait with me... for the crows' croaking...
that complete absence of human activity...
and chain yourself with me...
who seem to dream while awake...
who can only dream when everyone else
around them has to be sleeping.

as ever, the English got something right! i adore sport... and what i adore most about these Commonwealth Games? the Olympians are competing at the same time with the Para-Olympians... that's brilliant! when the usual Olympics takes place... the abled bodied Olympians that have their games in the first two weeks... then there's a break... then the Para-Olympians have their games... ****'s sake! the two games should be coupled-up! what's that i hear? games for the "spezial kidz"?! what a load of *******... when i was completing my NVQ for crowd safety i was asked the question: what are British values? i replied... aren't they universal? i didn't even mention the details of the question: i thought the question was self-evident in that it was universal: British values are universal because they can be understood by anyone and anywhere... ergo? the Para-Olympics should take part at the same time as the able-bodied Olympics... why muddle-coddle these wheelchair bound ******* to a later date?! ****'s sake! they should compete at the same time... i'd probably run a slower time than some of these wheel-snuggling swimmers of the air... it's not fair that the Olympics is separate from the Para-Olympics... and the former Olympians turned media pundits wonder: why aren't the Para-Olympics getting the same coverage as the "original" Olympics... hell... if it would have to take 3 weeks rather than 2... so be it... these people should compete in the same time-frame! that's ******* discriminatory! what special status? no special status! they compete at the same time... they get to entertain the same crowd volume! i don't care! they should... how does it feel cycling past someone in a wheelchair? i forget to ask... i always forget to ask a question about the weather... or the taste of quails... silly me... well... it's slightly different when i see a: POKRAKA... "freak"... that's a result of the irresponsibility of a certain adults inter-breeding... cousin-*******... someone people should have learned a valuable lesson a long time, a long long time ago... i don't blame the half-witted eighth of a Forrest Gump... i just look at the "mother" and "brother" and think nothing but disgust... not even donkeys get their reproductive conduct so wrong... for a creature so highly evolved: we're stuck with cousin-******* and the "myth" of Oedipus... but at least Oedipus was an exception... i imagine that he didn't gauge his eyes out... instead became an ******... then again: what are myths? stories better than any journalistic affair... myths > history > journalism < fiction < poetry... but Para-Olympians should be competing on the same stage as the Olympians! take an extra week... but don't do what's already being done! done segregate the two camps of competitors! take an extra week! let both compete at the same time! it's not fair that once the original Olympics are finished: the crowd isn't there for the Para-Olympians! i know it will be harder to attract the same viewership for women's club football... female boxing... female rugby... i'm already baking my own cakes... cooking my own food... cleaning my own house... today i surprised myself... what herb is most abundant in my garden? beside rosemary? mint... i was cleaning the garden and i had to cut down an overgrowth of mint... well... how many ******* mojitos would i have to make? how much tzatziki? a lot... there's me: bloated... lying under a floating table: drunk but probably also hallucinating Aztecs ceremonies of human sacrifice... MINT ICE CREAM... wow... i'm getting good at this ice-cream business... i simply hate chocolate ice-cream... but mint ice cream? ooh... and chocolate chips... the crème anglaise is ready... just chilling overnight... i'll churn it tomorrow... by then the chocolate chips will be added... and i didn't even need to add any food flavourings... it's this pristine green... fit for ice... a bit like that Frank Zappa song: don't eat yellow snow... ha ha... because someone has ****** into it... i love green... pale green... then again... no wonder i dress up like a tree from time to time... my irises are green... gween boyo wonder(s)...

sometimes i have to admire thespians...
as much as i despise the whole lot of them:
esp. when they come together
and self-congratulate themselves...
mind you... there are actors and there are
"actors":
       most notably "actors" as depicted
in Singing in the Rain: prior to the talkies...
but at the same time...
actors like the fictional Gloria Swanson -
or i fail to tell her apart
from the very real Norma Desmond...
i can attest to two stand-out performances
in the past few years...
i wouldn't be wrong in calling them
their life-performances...
                     and it's not even in the medium
of movies...
movies have lost everything movies
once were...
i used to enjoy movies: i'm pretty sure
everyone used to enjoy movies...
in school we'd gather in packs of 7 guys
and sometimes 7 guys and 3 girls
and we'd go to the cinema to watch
a movie...
      then grab a bite to eat...
or we used to go on dates to the movies...
Troy... she wanted to see that...
because i guess she thought
i looked like Achilles or Brad Pitt...
but that wasn't a date: date...
it was an entire day... first to Tate Modern
for the Edward Hopper exhibition...
some minor strolling...
then back to Romford to see the movie...
and then some food at a sushi bar
and some sake...
but movies these days are unwatchable...
i'd rather watch the Godfather (no...
part II is not better than the original...
sure... Terminator II is better than
Terminator and the Empire Strikes
Back is better than New Hope...
no... not the Godfather)...
i'd rather re-watch that than any new movie...
i usually switch on for about
10 minutes before switching off...
i need a cigarette break... i need to water
the garden... i need to take a ****...
i need to scratch my *** in private...
- but that's how the story goes...
"back in the day": there was a profession
of a baby-sitter...
the parents would have a date-night...
they'd go to the cinema...
i once had a baby-sitter... i forget who...
it was probably a male if my memory
serves me correct... probably my now estranged uncle...
while my parents went to see the movie
SE7EN at the now "mythical" Odeon on
the Gants Hill roundabout...
these days? movies are comic books...
i prefer serious books...
          and in terms of comics...
oh man... the first time i had a *******
i think the two girls were having a *******
for the same time too...
threesomes are disappointingly
disorientating...
       they like the execution of Isaiah...
being cut in half... the upper body is twiddling
with ******* and lips...
the lower part of the body is being treated
along the lines of *******...
it being my first time: terribly disappointing...
i couldn't keep up...
we settled on the anti-pornographic
solution... hand-job and imitation ******
into the "other's" *****...
             i was limp on first take...
nicotine... better than caffeine and ******* combined
to give a man arousal...
i had to have a smoke...
               i was new to the arrangement:
they were new to the arrangement:
the three of us were N00BZ... literally...
it wasn't like in a pornographic flick...
hell! far from it!
   what put me off was the changing of condoms...
and... once knew what to do with the *******:
pull it back... while the other one
didn't know what to do with it:
i'd circumcise her... so she might get a better
picture...
hardly an ego boost...
she implored me to reply in the affirmative
when asking the question:
you must feel like a king...
eh... i'm not the one who suggested having
a *******...
i rejected you twice: *****! you butted in!
i never had a ******* on my palette...
i like the ******* where i'm
almost tentatively looking into the woman's eyes
while rubbing forehead against forehead
before quickly jumping down below
to perform the crab-bucket maestro tongue
twirl of imitating gulping oysters
and flowers of KAHUNT!
                ****... oral *** on a woman...
she's already readying her hands to pretend to rip
the hair on your hair out...
she does that specific roll of the eyes...
it's beautiful to watch...
peacocks courting is probably the nearest comparison...
thank the gods on my part for
reading Ovid... someone was necessarily
born to combat these exploits of *******...
of ugly ***...

i don't know when i'll have a ******* ever again:
i like the one on one intimacy...
threesomes feel so pedestrian...
there's always that unwanted third party...
i don't think i gained an ego-booster...
i think along the lines of "p.t.s.d."...
                              the unwanted girl orchestrated
the whole enterprise...
the girl i wanted was the one i was snuggling up
to trying to steal a kiss:
me: thief... trying to steal kisses from
prostitutes... the unwanted third-party...
fake milking cows
and duck lips... she was just a canvas
for my *******...
                    once is enough...
i don't care what ******* portrays...
they're a nuisance...
i like ******* while eating eyes... with eyes...
plus the hygienic approach doesn't help
for the fluidity of threesomes...
you can't be hygienic and irresponsible at the same
time...

stealing kisses from prostitutes is one thing...
but ******* them without any ****** protection...
come the zenith...
actually asking: can i?
   with agreement:
                    yes, you can...           oh wow...
well... i'm talking about Turkish women...
different culture, different tactic...
i live in England but by now:
i ****** well hope to never **** an English
girl...

girl, let me just water my garden...
admire the night for a while:
believe me... you can have your sway
in raising the next Oedipal myth in your
sisterhood motherhood of loneliness...
i'd love to teach the ******* some things...
the pleasures of the hammer...
the KANGO concrete drill...
the everywhere and everyone within
the confines of the loneliness
of walking in a forest...
         chemistry! English! i'd love to learn
vocal Deutsche with him!
but no... fair enough: no's a no...
back to the brothel i go...
               oh no no...
              
me and hook-up culture? nothing's for free!
- i sometimes wake up the next day:
mein gott! what damage i must have i cause:
it's a cruel addiction:
to drink and to write simultaneously:
Bukowski and Hemmingway
figured out this problem...
one in celebrating old age
the other in the shotgun...

                    tear skin, grow more skin...

mein gott! i became so carried away with myself
that i actually forgot my original theme
for this poo'em...
            literally: maybe that's why i inserted
the word BZDETA...
                 oh... it's an actual word... not in -ing-leash
of course... but i'm sure most English
speakers are familiar with African surnames:
M'Bepe Mgabe etc.
   that's hovering consonant...
        B'z'deta...
               i love how the English folk break their tongues
when speaking my mother's... tongue...
they would sooner learn Czech or Russian
than learn ******... such puritans of the tongue
we folk are... and now combine the fact
that i identify as an Anglo-Slav...
     listen: England or at least English is a playground
for me... i was implored by some deity
to come to these isles, given a ***** and bucket
and told: here! there's some wet sand over there...
go and play!

                 now: many a happy returns to the father
of the English tongue... i have to return and tease
at some Deutsche...
           Franz Friedrich: AHUND!

my original adoration for the Thespians... it... can...
happen... personally i'd rather not...
i don't see the point of these shadow-thieves...
these dopplegangers... yet artistically?
it's the most celebrated medium...
           sure... painters are celebrated... post-mortem...
poets had a weird spell of "conundrums"
in America in the the 1960s...
   but i'm not willing to write ******* for a "me"
that's either asthmatic or exasperated:
equally short on breath...

well: given the modern equivalent... everyone is going
to be the next Allen Ging-Sperg?
i don't think so... more of a composer: than an entertainer...

anyhoo...
  BZDETA... an actual word...
it's sort of in between the English equivalent of:
trivial (thing) and a pointless (thing) -
the actual "thing" is hidden within the pointlessness
of an implied "thing" / the triviality of
the implied "thing": ha! modern English grammaticians
and their hyped up focus on pronouns...
wait till they figure out that adjectives verbs
and nouns and conjunctions and adverbs and...
a- the-     -ism: the indefinite and the definite article...

- everything coming of America (culturally) is corrupt:
once the beacon for the world to admire...
i'm regressing to find alternatives...
i stopped listening to music with a tinge of
the English tongue... i've thrown my laurel wreath
toward German neo-folk...
**** it... i might be living, physically: in an anglo-sphere
but my mind is elsewhere...
i wouldn't go as far as Frank Zappa and adore
Bulgarian music... but certainly not anything
in the vein of modern-modern (post?) English...

- another word that's dear to me: akin to
   how Italians call a child a BAMBINO...
the Polacks call a child a BOBAS...
             English is so strict... rigid sometimes...
the mere fact that the ****** tongue employs
so much diminutive "accents" is amazing sometimes...
a mountain: (gurhau, no... sorry... guhrau!)
i.e. góra can become a little mountain
via incorporating the diminutive tense górka...

and although the word RZECZ denotes: things...
rzeka is river... while a small river?
rzeczka...
            i don't think there's the antonym for the diminutive
in ******... it's sort of boring in English:
there are only adjectives... actual nouns
do not incorporate a diminutive tense for something
being described:

KACZKA (duck) kaczuszka (small duck, duckling)
wow! that's actually a good example of
the English ZUNGE applying the diminutive
construct of a word...
young and youngling springs to mind...
but English is altogether a very rigid tongue...
so... i don't understand how these current
grammatical-magicians and their pronoun-hyper-focus
are trying: you can't trick an old dog
into learning new tricks... these aren't tricks:
this is equivalent to: a baboon...
smearing his naked plump pink *** with his
own ****... calling it woad...
raising it up in the air like a Muslim during prayer:
before battle... shaking it...
taunting the opponent... come fight me...
and then...
                       what? of the two kings of ancient
Israel... who would i like to be?
David or Solomon?    hmm... clueless question...
DAVID! he got to fight Goliath and enjoyed the lyre
and wrote pslams into ripe old age...
Solomon? who couldn't compete with
his father... resorted to "wisdom":
writing aphorisms / maxims is the worst genre of
literature... it's untested proofs...
just ask Srinivasa Ramanujan...
                                   he was always neglected by
the establishment for having no proofs...
great idea: 2 + 2 = 5... but how? where's your proof!
the same with Solomon's supposed wisdom:
no proof... the same with Nietzsche's aphorisms
or for that matter la Rochefoucauld...
it's all true... but it's most probably just perhaps true...
i've tasted a sample of both the lives
of Solomon and David...
            each time i return to David...
i just do what the Nazis did to the *******...
i turn it clockwise...
                 tilt it... what do i see?
i see a reading-mat and an open book...
              i peer in: i ignite out...

now i'm thinking: i still need to mop the floors of the house,
i need to shine my shoes and iron a white shirt...
and gear up to waking up at 6am...
as much as i love waking up at 11am
without needing to be awake any hour sooner...
i love waking up at 6am with a necessary:
i'm expected to be at X by the time Y...
algebra simplicity...

esp. since today i fell out of bed: too humid...
i fell out the bed at about 6:30am onto the floor...
how compact the floor feels...
i could feel my strained spine relax on the hard surface...
i even used my folded hand for a pillow
in and out of a coming day-dream...
what i wouldn't give to imitate David...
and scorn Solomon forever more...
no wisdom did i find...
   no man can speak wisdom to men when he has
an abundance of "thirst-quench" of ****...
          
              in a polygamous society... thank god i don't live
in one... but there have always been women that
aspired to the cult / altar of the phallus...
i'm content with the fact that i can bypass any thirst...
that i have hygienic standards in place
that make me disregard any satisfaction in the realm
of a *******... it's equivalent to:
running an 800m race... come the 400m mark...
you're told to change your socks and shoes...
and then run another lap...

                           it's nothing like in *******...
monkey-pox is a real thing...
you need standards... cleanliness is the greatest:
and only standard that must be constantly stressed
from one human to another...

only Michel de Montaigne can surpass both Nietzsche
and la Rochefoucauld:
well, at least by my "under-estimation"...

- now for the caveat... what i was originally to write
about...
two example where Thespians can be adored...

                                   Logan Roy i.e. Brian ***
Peter III i.e. Nicholas Hoult...

even they: themselves have figured out that films
are on the way out...
people have changed...
                               i know i have changed...
i don't have the mental capacity to watch movies:
and i'm not some senile old man...
strange... in ancient times old people
were never this senile...
   they still had intellectual rigour...
they accumulated "****": perhaps it wasn't intellectually
stimulating: but it was intellectually mesmerising...
it was called wisdom: once upon a time...

and when my father criticised me for
reading philosophy books in my youth...
expecting me to regress to the optometric notion
that only old people are wise:
no! nein! old people these days are like
children: there's nothing to learn from them!
that's why i'm thinking about going
into primary school teaching...
i can pour my ever more clear water into that pool...
of clear water...
i don't need to teach them chemistry...
i don't have to teach them the tongue:
i can watch ontology sprout out of seemingly "nothing"...
i adore children:
            like i could never adore women...
i adore children like i adore animals...
i don't know what sort of man one must become
to adore women in order to exploit them
in the way that they are exploited...

hypocrite? because i place my silver on the table
and expect what's expected by the meaning
of transaction, or...
rather... place the silver on the table...
receive a shared meal and then expect something
in return? such backward ways
of the American culture...
i hope that England will never become infested
with these practices... freakish: ghoulish...
of the four-eyed beast...
a desecration of Shiva: one winking eye on
the forehead... one blinking eye attached to the ****...
with the two eyes that are supposed to see:
stapled shut...

how marvelous to wake up...
with a want to make mint and dark-chocolate chip
ice-cream... surely the best ice-cream i have
ever made! to hell with chocolate ice-cream!
i hate chocolate... turning it into ice-cream is even worse!
mint! oh... that marvelous invention of
the gods... almost equivalent to ferns...
almost equivalent to nettles...
how the ancient Roman centurions used to cure
an itch... they would run and jump into
a bed of nettles ****-*******-naked...
i.e. fight fire with fire... fight an itch with an even
bigger itch... second to the nettle? the thistle...
i'd love to see those guys jump into a patch
of nettles...

Rome will never die... even with the crucifixion
of its supposed surrogate son of man...
nope...
    the alphabet it still here...
the coliseum has morphed into a raised
meteor crater of a football stadium...
               Rome is, Rome was, Rome will be...
even with the Arab "invasion" of Europe...;
Rome is, Rome was, Rome will be:
we'll just be soul-chasers... soul-thieves...
they'll enter the arena of this tongue...
neglect their heritage... and they will learn our ways...
somewhat... not always...
mind you: on a racial-bias...
skin-colouring dilutes during *******
with a 2nd generation...
  
you asked for a Latin man... a Latin man came...
what now?
you asked for a Latin man...
i'm forever employing myself to date a single
mom with a boy or a girl...
i'm not a Darwinist... genes are like atoms...
i don't care much for them...
but... i wouldn't date a single mother
for the ***... i'd be sneaking out
to the brothel on a whim...
i'd be there for the child...
                    i'd love to make him or her ingest
my psychology:
i'd make them ingest my soul...
i'd pass on my ontology...
     he or she would have to be bilingual
in the least... i'd learn Deutsche with him...
he would be a miracle of a Switzerland outside
of Switzerland!

i'm still bewildered why America is not a bilingual
quest (of a nation)...
  WASP pride? or ignorance?
the worst of the English went to America:
while the supposed "worst" of the English went
to Australia...
                 funny... really funny...

to wake up and have: i need to make mint &
chocolate ice-cream on one's mind...
that's how one wakes up to celebrate life!   LIFE!
LAíF!

( To the tune of Jailhouse Rock )

Party night came to the hp site
Singing and dancing till late at night
Friends dropping by said count us in
Man you shoulda seen them poets swing
     Let's rock
     Everybody let's rock
     They all got together in a flock
     Rockin at the hp hop
Well I didn't know you played the saxophone
Frank Zappa Davis on the slide trombone
Along came Embers with a whole brass band
Man that thing was getting out of hand
       Let's rock
       Everybody let's rock
       We were rockin and we couldn't stop
        Boppin at the hp hop
Music getting louder as the night wore on
Hands clap feet tap sing that song
Grab hold o' somethin just to play a tune
If you don't play the piano play the wooden spoon
          Let's rock
          Everybody let's rock
          We were givin it all we'd got
          Boppin at the hp hop
Someone made a speech, said we're all friends here
We all shed a happy little single tear
Then she said oh for goodness sakes
I love everybody in the whole **** place
            Let's rock
            Everybody let's rock
            Keep it up y'all don't stop
            Boppin at the hp hop

in a house, where a bonsai tiger sleeps listening
to jack johnson's in between dreams
(realising his loathing for radio transmission
dynamics of advertisement and talk when
the album fills a full hour of ear drum concerns,
and in a house where upstairs frank zappa's
hot rats plays in unison to a man on a windowsill
musing: 'by god, zappa did a john coltrane
in a symbiosis with a love supreme; there's only
one vocal track on the album, the rest
is sheering saxes to grizzly.

poetry, esp. non rhyming poetry to detached it
from musicology, poetry is after all
the oldest musicology without instrument
as whether dicing tongues protruding
made sneezing a new wheezing or coughing
to beat-box rapping, i guess it's like that,
well, non-rhyming poetry that old rekindling
adolescence needs to be less "scientifically"
itemised with theories to identify a metaphor
for a metaphor: just take it in one gulp as the whole;
it needs a detachment to lose all inhibitions
of self-consciousness and carve a route into
exhibitions, pompous art of music, this poetry,
so if not rhythmic rhyming at least interested
in music: a strong rhythmic section makes music
interesting, esp. when the bass guitar
is as important as the drum-kit - and gets equal
expression, unlike all those air-guitar soloist
techniques within the framework of critique of
the famed phrase 'intellectual *******,
thinking, epitome of liverpool's jabbing and upper-cutting
because of a football score because of a referee decision,'
same thing in music: big hair, make-up, solos
of guitars with over-burdening vocals - i need the rhythm,
i need the rhythm to enter the labyrinth and scatter think
by way out, by the odd chance right choice.
so scientific theory died with the higg's boson,
god got a mention, no need for scientific theories,
with my x-ray vision i see everyone wearing laboratory
coats and pretending to not have rats' whiskers and tails,
it's over, we need all theories to move into
humanism's area, from science just practicality,
but as always, we have the merchants and middle-men
who will stall human endeavour for a higher price
being reached by politico dynamite exploding
in curbing the populace for a horse-blinders of
angry rubric divisions into economy theorised.
so if i told you otherwise, would you tell me
the winter be bleak? i find winter refreshing,
after all, only in winter can you see the celestial
marriage of moon and sun, seeing how the moon
appears in the daytime and in the night is missing.
with that famous debate about pinpointing god
(existence - out of every instance? that's hard),
i'm not going to guise myself in a theological disguise
of spider and spider's architecture to eat with
the spiderweb his digestive system inside-out:
like a poet to his unvocalised muse: this word
isn't complete, it's an abandoned poem,
and hence us, we come in with scissors and pliers,
hammers and nail, due to the incompleteness of
this world we have a momentary chance to fill
it with ourselves... that creationism fight v. darwinism
is too claustrophobic for me, so anyway:
if i said to you the romans were better poets than
the greeks because the greeks gave names to
their phonetic units: alpha to omega in between
iotas, then i'd tell you the romans didn't name
their letters to be befitting for scientific constants,
on the basis of do re mi fa so la,
and hence i'd tell you romans were better poets
and the greeks were better fathers of shakespeare,
and i'd tell you homer was a greek and fathered
the tree major sons in rome: ovid, virgil, horace.
then i'd tell you our age has to have a lightbulb moment,
after the 1st prometheus stole or simply gave fire
unto man in order to be gnawed by a hawk
gnawing on his liver (metaphorically, might have
been a heavy drinker, drinker's hawkish vision),
a 2nd prometheus must come:
i'm guessing with some sort of magnetism to capture
zeus' wrath of a lightning storm...
2nd prometheus is rather dull, let's use etymology
to drive out a name for this man:
lightning bringer (αστραπαραδευς) - derived
from lightning and the word *deliver, the deliverer
of a godly essence - of course other ambiguities
can be crafted, but putting two nouns together
to create a compound, like -1 + -1 = -2,
so two nouns put together don't really create a
new noun, but couple a noun with a verb
and it's like -1 - -2 = 1... hence i didn't use
the greek word deliverer (ελεθερωτις /
eletherotis).

zappa blows cartoon music
out of a cerulean blue kazoo
in my kitchen while i
eat greasy cold pizza
out of a crusty cardboard box
& marcus the kitten gnaws
on my sock ankle achilles
& it's in moments like this
that i'm a-ok with being alone
my **** could stay soft for the
rest of my life no problemo
i'm beautiful alone i tell myself
out loud & marcus stops chewing
acts like he understands me
but i know it's only
temporary this feeling of adequacy
& full-time fulfillment tomorrow
i'll wake up cold & lonely again
& pining for smooth thighs
& butterflies
& a girl whose best friend committed suicide

A  poet was given
a life sentence today.

He'll be going the way
of Bob Marley and Frank Zappa.

I saw him perform
over the last few decades.
Hip he was and always will be.

In the ranks of Canadian poets,
his peers being  Gordon Lightfoot,
Leonard Cohen and Mister Neil Young.

He wrote about the Canadian Prairies,
about New Orleans sinking and nautical disasters.
All with soul and intellect.

A friend said,
"You didn't have to
Know know know him
to love love love him".
And that's true.

With a heavy heart I ponder the noon news.
I recall the day I heard of John Lennon's ******.

The only time I ever cried
over the death of a celebrity.

Thoughts and prayers out to you Gordie,
and your family and friends.

Ironically tragic for one so Tragically Hip.

will you walk with me?
around the moon and beyond the stars
up and up
until our brains feel light and our lips turn blue

When we look over our shoulders
we notice the insignificance of things that are truly insignificant

the dog the car the microwave oven
that set of keys I lost and still can't find
the movie that comes out this weekend that you can't wait to see
my English degree
the lawn that we accidentally forgot to mow for four straight weeks
my mother
your mother
the way you take your coffee with milk and sugar
the list of unwatched romantic comedies on our Netflix que
the advice I get from Suze Orman
the indent your body made in my double bed
our leaky roof
your Dean's List grades and above average MCAT score
our set of home decor from IKEA that we assembled ourselves
Frank Zappa's Tinseltown Rebellion
that trip we always wanted to go on but never had the time to plan      
Our aspirations that we neatly folded up tucked away and pretended to forget.

Even you.

Even you. Even you don't affect the way the world turns.

No matter how hard we stomp or yell
or scream
or push or pull
or heave

We can't stop the world.
Not even for a second.

oops...
  there's really an oops,
with a follow up sentence?!

****....

  sam cooke,
              roy orbison...
   when did
frank zappa not become
    the next
roberto, Dylan,
and half the Disneyland?
tommy pet the zoo...

gone with the ****...
petty grievances
of the worthlessness
  of ego, in concet;
i hasten to abhor mineral
water that's not
                 fizzy enough...
Perrier, carbonated water?
      anything else?
san pellegrino...
  anything else?
like a prog rock record
                               bonanza....
                          i.e.
have a
of an hour to spare me,
to become the next
Richie Branson?!

              let#'s face it...
what was and what wasn't
Tubular Bells,
    by mike oldfield to
the enterprise?!

    zilch.... nothing...
                 i scratch my beard
and start thinking
about freshly baked bread...
and then i return to
the fetish of shaving off
the stubble.

came the Canterbury scene...
   with the, plethora of acts...
            and...

it's the same question,
rather, less the rolling stones
"vs." the beatles...
             given the song
solitude" by black sabbath...
  and led zeppelin's
                   *living loving maid...

hmm...
frank zappa...
   i hate myself for having attempted
to source the oeuvre
of bob dylan...
                   ****!
****!
                ****!
it should have always been
about frank zappa!
and never about bob dylan!

             oh well... by now
it's simply:
  
      yeah, all that, and... whatever.

you know there are neo-nazis in poland? a friend once joked. i looked at the news and would have asked had i the chance: you know there are neo-nazis in dover?*

well given china and india, and given the freaky
scientific Europeans spiked-up with power
having conquered  the Mongolians in Bohemia
but being defeated by nozzles of greedy mosquitoes
in the resurrected Aztec man as the atomised
mesoamerican re-awoke:
with the peak the zika viral
infection that's hardly an imitable dance
on a saturday night (pigeon brain
in a cranium aquarium five times the size);
lazy *** with ants making it move
and set sail... play terrible unthinking
chess with hope of a robot beating a russian
known as deep big bogus blue...
well, we have someone named samuel
passing a short-change economy as a banker's bonus...
while the hyenas grew feathers and flew
into darwin's paradise of high-brow concords:
the dumb ones said: the rollin' stones vs. the beatles?
the smart ones said: frank zappa vs. bob dylan?

i'm sorry...

   i don't know where
i'm at with
what becomes the worth of:

******* into a sandpit
and moulding a castle...

the work of: sight of once,
made expendable,
twice: null and a grey
afternoon...

discoveries of:
℘ (℘)
      ℑ (ℑ)
                   ℜ (ℜ)...

vowels: less akin
to the odd,
   number:
consonants:
less akin to the even...

ⰗⰖ!
        ⰗⰖ!
                     ⰕⰖ!

the logistics of:
occupied time,
via,
interludes of:

( [ {
                        &whatelse?(;)

i code:
but i no brick:
i layer:
i hammer:
i: dodo: could
do with something:
else...

i **** on snow:
if there be:
any more snow...

work of and if: art...
by writing:

no hammer - no cue...
better:

   variety of:
the wind blew south
and i, ventured,
north...

             disorientating
poetics
in the variety of:
i'm comfortable
having acquired
limited scraps of:

"ditto"...

         the feud the life
the: cushioned wording,
the:
      best we gravitate
toward a less:
fathomable cult
of tomorrow...

     no point giving into
learning:
no one these days is
in for the plot
of: passing hereditary
     scoops...

   as far as i am
concerned:
no one really bothers
teaching others...
solipsism...

         self-
prefix: grand
regurgitator...
   but with no
-self worth suffix...

       the tiresome
burden of what was
once called life...
and now...
              pit,
a charging bull,
  sea...

        honesty:
why bother educating
children,
when what
you're educating them
with is a combat versus:
the delusion
that contradicts the
exercise
of the real world?

      educated bastion
emeralds...
       shovelled grip:
           with a languid
          utility of a shovel...

life has become
an agitated presence
of a canvas i'm
supposed
to fill...
              but am,
consistently
revolving around:
needing to
speak the equivalent
of the sound,
associated with:
flushing a toilet.

Some past details are sketchy now,
There's things I know I've done:
I did a spliff with Neil Young,
Had a pint with Pete's best singer,
Walked on Nelson's ship,
The ship that shook Napoleon.
Stole The Dubliners cigarettes,
And the matches too.
McCartney once played for me,
Cat Stevens served us tea.
Leonard was with Suzanne,
He'll always be your man.
I imagine Lennon at his white grand,
Making love to ivory keys;
Krishna George on a cushion,
With sitar on his knees.
Joni's paradise was paved,
But we saved many trees.
I once floated on a zeppelin,
Beneath the dark side of the moon.
I didn't need an aqualung
To help with songs I sung.
We were changing with the times,
And the times they were a changin.
ELP and Alice Cooper,
Zappa, Jackson Brown,
Brought us high,
But we came down.
There's so much more to be done,
But when this life has been run,
I'll cross my legs and play some chords
Of yesterday and days before.

'A mind is like a parachute..it serves no purpose unless and until you open it.'

-Frank Zappa

experiencing overwhelming gratitude
for so many aspects in my life
the sun rising again to shine upon my face
the feeling of warmth and total encompassment
that one has standing in the morning sun
in a quiet meadow –
three big dogs bound into the living room
slobber flying and loudly panting
flopping, rolling, kicking their legs
I laugh at the spectacle
giving them all a vigorous rub down –
from out behind the overgrown spider plant
the little black and white Waffle cat
stretches his long leg into view
rubbing against the edge of the couch
arching his back to brush it
against the chin of my old lab
before coming up and offering me a small ‘meow’ –
the pack follows me to the back porch
grabbing a handful of fishy kibble
I toss the lot into my hand-dug pond
5 to 8 inch six year old goldfish splash
and gulp down the bounty
tall bamboo shoots sway gently in the backdrop
creating both shade
and an exotic feel to my little oasis –
the Kia starts right up
Frank Zappa announces the variety of ways
in which a Jewish Princess is a good catch
and I smile
knowing today will be a good day….
even if Ice Cube did have to pull out an A-K –

A snakepit, a lion’s den,
a second-hand shark cage.
The Big Apple, the Little Rascals,
everything after the Victorian Age.
These things scare me on sight,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

The Trix Rabbit with a gun,
The Dodgers winning a World Series.
Parallel parking with Mark Hamill,
Sesame Street conspiracy theories.
These things make me shake at night,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

The White Album, the Black Plague,
toenail clippers, salad bars and Disneyland.
The Richter scale, the Mendoza line,
Any and every last teenage boy band.
These things give me such a fright,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

Television reruns of H.R. Pufnstuf,
An opened jar of Miracle Whip.
The names of Frank Zappa’s kids,
vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship.
These things horrify me alright,
but still not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.

England win 4 - nil against Ukraine and
i just can't find happiness...
i want to behind this bread and circus
distraction: it's not the current stadiums
are anything close to the ancient roman
coliseum, either: it's not like
i'm watch 22 eager ballerinas kicking
the guillotine head of Robespierre about...
either...
language bugs me: i write it and avoid
speaking it...
expatriates of England: unite behind your team...
i've been an immigrant from
the age of 8... funny how language
works...
the English have no notion of a diaspora...
their immigrant status: among their own
countrymen is elevated to the word:
expatriate: "us" folk flood a host country...
we: "invade" it...
we are never deemed to be:
repatriating... changing allegiance...
i can naturalize: citizen mr. smith over 'ere...
but... when it comes to...
"patriotism" or... the nationhood and cheering
a ******* football team?
i try more than i ever had...
but i'm not buying the *******...
there's club football...
   i just can't stress how important it would
be for me to witness the final:
i'm betting on Italy vs. England...
and in that final Italy will win:
i support, "support" from an undermining
perspective...
on topic: if i go back to the country of my birth:
i didn't take root...
since the death of my grandfather:
sure... i still have some family there...
but... i'm not attached to them:
it would require a d.n.a. test to get at
proof: whether or not i should be
there is another question...

if only this... if only that...
cob-weaving safety-net riddle shadow-man...
what was it? a lack of ambition...
lack of designation...
most assuredly resigned from time to time:
waking up once i suckle on
a bottle of wine...
the clouds start to make sense:
i see faces conjured up
and i no longer feel a need to
peacock my ambitions...
that i am the subject of
a demonic voyeuristic experiment:
call it whatever phenomenon
you might want to... pareidolia
is a newly acquired word in my coffer of vocab.

a historical status quo is being
extended:
not with my death but with my death
i can see all that's going to bypass
the concentration of subjectivity and
becomes diluted in an objective amass...

i'm not important:
but being jealous simply makes me
double up on being reflective and at the same
time melancholically tinged:
idle blue... bleeding green...

****** if i do: ****** if i don't:
south american nations can have their post-racial
picnic...
i **** a black girl in England:
what am i?
what am i if she boasts of a harem?

but i'm not some olive skinned
inferno of Pakistan
dealing with calling a supermarket cashier
the word-lot of: love, darling...
when i hear it: as she endears me...
she can call me: dearly... lovely...
love... pet and darling...
am i undermining the English language?
am i spreading Marxism?

i want to be a fan of the English
football team:
it's hard for me to translate assimilate into...
entertaining something this primitive...
perhaps i should isolate my fandom
to elevated: individualistic sports...
tennis players...
i can't attach a shared ethnicity to
Iga Świątek...
i'm not Slovenian but...
hearing these two Tour de France commentators
slobber and gag when watching
the 8th bit with Tadej Pogačar
climbing up a 10% to 14% incremental up...
on a *****...

i'm starting to love individualistic sports
than ever...
however much i'd love to support
the football team of England:
i'm not English...
immigrants are expected to integrate:
assimilate into their host nation...
but... somehow... odd...
the English expatriates living in Italy will...
not...
choice of language: i'm sure...

rules for thou: rules for aye...
isn't it how it always works?
English refer to the people who left these isles
as... expatriates...
or if there's enough of them:
and the enough of them start-up a new
ethic identity and become:
Australians... New Zealanders...
Canadians... H'Americans...
        
       it's not mind-bending antics on my part:
i didn't chose the wording:
it was already available...
i can respect the English laws...
i can grow accustomed to the peoples'
idiosyncrasies...
drink their... Siberian milk tea:
although i've resolved myself to drink green...
eating baked beans on toast:
to hell with avocado...
but i can't be fed into an emotional complex
that might allow me to support
the national football team:

the inherently ****** in my remembers...
just, "oddly enough": remembers...
the broken fingers of Jan Tomaszewski...
'Brian Clough's throwaway remark
and his saves for Poland against England
in October 1973' - the clown...
England being denied a place in the 1974
World Cup...

it's stupid it's beautiful it's football...
it's not tennis it's not the Olympics
it's not the ******* Tour de France...
amore! amore!
i'm betting on Italy... such style...
they look nothing like a Teutonic heavy cavalry
charge of the English with their
meticulous passing...
such spark with their no. 10
Napoleon: Lorenzo Insigne...

i'll learn your tongue: i'll do whatever
might be required:
to blend in better and not pretend...
but i can't support your football team...
individual sportsmen...
sure... saying that:
i feel robbed from the euphoria
of a shared experience!

- there are no English immigrants living in Italy:
there are only expatriates...
it's not even funny how wording goes:
i'm not offended: hardly...
i prefer the h'American racial "slur" to
what otherwise pits me up against:
the North & South and St. Paul...
****** being the one word in ******
that's not to be confused with Polish...
but English immigrants in Italy are not
migrants... immigrants... disfranchised people
who said: you deal with that kneeling
******* before a phantom...
pander "them"...
because the English have no concept of
the diaspora!
in ******-land there's this concept of:
Polonia... those who are emigrated...
like hell i'm going back...
but i can't think of myself as an expatriate
since... isn't it ****** obvious?
the native of the English tongue thinks
of his extended family living in Italy...
France... as an expatriate...
he's not going to dub them: an immigrant...
the quality of life is too high to...
oh... these people didn't immigrate
for economic reasons...
or like they might have been...
persecuted Kashubians / Kosovans...

Italy just felt better... the weather... the architecture...
derogatory implying: what?
like the Polacks think of their fellow countrymen
"elsewhere" belonging to this greater family:
Polonia -
the English treat their own as...
hardly an immigrant in Australia...
or H'America... no diaspora to be found...
it's truly a conundrum of wording:
what do you call a Spaniard in South America?
a late Lebanese inquisitor...
my jokes are dry... dry dry: ******* dry...
a pale Persian when i double down
on what could come off as possibly: worst...

i don't suppose you might feel like me:
dear reader...
if only i was surrounded by
pretty things that people might admire
as social status exfoliations:
read books...
not books stacked upon a shelf:
a banknote from the Russian Empire
with the effigy of Tsar Nicholas II
on it... Soviet Empire post-stamps
inherited from my grandfather:
the philatelist...

my mind's in it... the tongue too...
but my heart it grieving...
although not as much as...
what's missing in both the head, the tongue...
the outward appearance of the
the shy jihadi...

pandering missionaries for equal
representation based on anti-racism: nuanced-racism:
this inability to differentiate a Croat
from a German...
we'll just suppose the English immigrants
will be known by a different name...
not expatriates...
like the cricketers... tourists...
oh yeah... expatriates is too bold a statement
when they achieve as little
as drinking an espresso the Italian way...

i can't support the English football team...
however much i want...
and i want to...
ha ha... odd me dumb ******:
every time Germany played England
i supported Germany: ol' Wend that i was...
it's football!
once more... better concentrate on
individualistic sports...
no good ever came from chanting
syllables:

although in the England vs. Ukraine game...
Ukraine in English is formed from only
two syllable: U-KRAINE...
(CRANE)...
in ****** and akin to the natives it consists of:
OOH-KRA-Í-N'AH

U-KRA-I-NA!
       i'm watching football but also listening
to the crowd...
i become lost when it comes
to the Cossack Uprising...
sure... Bohdan Khmelnytsky
                      wasn't Oliver Cromwell...
              wasn't he, though?

a frank zappa album title: sheikh yerbouti...
translates as... twerking /
shake your-*****... no?

this is all we have become... decently progressed
nations being reduced to the thrills
of... a football match?
again: these are not 22 ballerinas
kicking about a guillotined head of
Robespierre... are they?
i could understand that...
the no thrills no support chanting:
sensible: Olympic sports it is...
individualistic: i want to better myself types...
no... ******* Normandy landing...
no historical insinuation:
no historical weaving the current bogus
events with past splendour and spectacle
and all that wave of world war I
p.t.s.d.

currently?
no better football commentator than...
Ally McCoist....
McCoist cane compete with Jonathan Pearce:
any sunny Sunday...
i swear to god of the guillotined
head of Robespierre...
the man played football but also have
more talk behind the ball than he ever had
a kick behind it...
perhaps because he also has a sing-along
trill behind the R...

the **** this Scot conjures up:
something akin to: boy'oh: leg up...
i can't just... conjure up the verbatim...
good enough: time to seek
a kipper.

Italy vs. England in the final...
Italy will win:
i want to be dead-end: wrong.

some great h'american heads:
toward no greater tail of
quixote...
                   of dylan-zappa-waits...
to simply have forgotten
the milan kundera essay
with no dickens arrived at...

oyster selfies...
      the least predictable loot
of people -
who will never see themselves
aiming for postcards from
a fishing trip -

           trout fishing in america
or: plain as pain:
whimsical and sickle bore(d)
the surf... and fun fun...
and more fun...

          myth-word and
blister... ol' scabby and shelter...
some missing roulette of rhymes
and all those flowers:
all those flowers all 'em pwetty...

stiff fingers... of note...
watching people smoke
a cigarette without any desired
ceremony in public...

3 weeks "sober"... and 3 weeks later:
some variation of "ergo"...
and more... cogito: oops sum...
more of OOPS than ERGO...

but no "hit"...
              the new quixote...
dylan-zappa-waits...
                if i were "homegrown"
and had a Bowie shrine...
and we all spoke english...
and if english was a universal
tongue... hell... if english was
the old old... lingua franca...

but... you travel across europe
in a tin can...
and false-track-the-spread
of an even more false...
a... "eureka"...
and in that: find out...
the germans are speaking german...
the french are speaking french...

pass belgium and... ol' flakey flan
and marzipan...
der der... ders: there's...
and the dutch are not...
are not... english circketers on tour...
no... no tourists in sight...
or a brief: sigh quest...

complication the already
simple trouble of...
not ingest: bulgarian folk
"cute"...

            like punctuation...
the zappa cascade oeuvre...
*** note: ***'s the note:
more's the best served...
best appreciated: tartar streak
of a steak...

sounds of fudge... and trickle...
sane... sane sane...
sane...
                 no room for satire...
no room for jim morrison's chin
and chins...
and no room for
californian grizzes of tanning
auburn furlough...
  when... coming across as
debilitating quasi-danish...
"in wanting"...
   the organised perspective
of: the looting process
of the ******... **** a lemon...
slurp an oyster...

relative... all is:
   better that 10 guilty men walk
free... than...
relative... "better"...
better that 10 guilty men walk
free than... 1 innocent man
be condemned...

it's all relative...
the exceptional case of innocence...
no one will ever contest
the fake... the innocence...
though... V-ia-fake...

               which is my... arm-in-arm
with "fake"...
my mother hates me...
i somehow read
madame bovary...
     and... and a missing and...
i really do want to scout myself
in the posit of limp jeff
at the brooding barrel of...
         yachts and sputniks...
err... rock... and... tactile...
ordeal: looooooo
           oooooooooooob....
bride: i can't!  yeah....     "can't"...

lego B-movie....
fix it... break it... fixating on...
breaking "it"...
and "it" as...      no new but all
bad "pronoun"...
because no... gender neutral is...
"it" is...
             a psy-ops nuanced
gender-****** *******
tingling clown smoochies
FOR TOMORROW!

How elite can one be and not be evil?

Is there any justification for greed,
in your house,

fret not, in mine we have nothing, thus
greed is for attention,
whose act is funnier,
who is most dramatic,
what is the Terraria top level?
" have you never read- Road to Wiggen's Pier?"
- paste from JBP taken with a will to find some poetry
- while judging if I knew the point in use and useless knowledge
- sorting
"
In the lecture I included with this post (see below)
I discuss the suffering inextricably associated
with life, attributing some
of it
to tragedy, a necessary consequence
of human limitation,
and the remainder …

to evil,
the conscious and malevolent attempt
to worsen Being.
I
suggest that human beings
can tolerate tragedy —
even triumph over it,
if they are guided
by truth —
but that evil  …"
-sliptaway
{that one feared in lectures with monstors and heroes
as symbols of common sensitif-if-ifity--
for which we make up useful
stories, then feed them
to the children we wish
to tame, fit for function in the brave new sector of ification}
__ that
evil, never known to any creature in eden,
I swear
== "that evil…
is a far more insidious, subtle and damaging force."

From <https://www.jordanbpeterson.com/books/book-list/>

{******* has the brackets}
But we all are the wise *** now,
this not being any
initial dive into the depths of hellopoetry, far from
jolly drinking ditties done
to dance a jig with,
this be that
tarry slough
of despond,
responding
to the doom and gloom
of those who
feel, we must recall
the whole truth
to tell it, as we swore, to the judge on TV.

Here come d'judge, and everybody laughed but me,
I was smitten, by the maiden,
who looked at me as if she knew I stole the emperor's pants.