Like a fist in the eye; like a knife in the back;
shaking the hand while left-handed holding the axe...
Right wings want order - left leaving for peace,
center is open for debate but out of league.
The record like a math problem out of track.
The verdict has been rendered Johnny Storm dealt with;
angry smurfs on a rampage over crimes against NPC's.
What is it to wreck Dodge Vipers and tread on their strife.
Another mans rape victim is someone elves waif!
Behind some dark throne siblings even intervene...
What is right or wrong can be said inside a boundary of rules;
those who stand aside can't play the game and judge abuse.
Socket players know it all - jurors on the couch confine;
nothing more bittersweet than vengeance and interest collides.
As little birds tweets about diamonds in thiers stomach accuse!
What is at hand more worthy, than what is on the roof;
what you let go, cant fly back to you, just like an arrow!
The wizards are folly the wise men set aloof.
The bark of the tree invents himself the dog and its woof;
nobody gives a fuck for compassion censored to Gallows!
Black eyes matter; tears and tatters even more;
acid and venom, bones shattered asking for underscore...
Over the margin and under the hills and dungeons;
some treasures should be left unsought - mansions
endangered... by greed and vice alone shall be rinsed to sores!
Tuesday, December 18, 2018
Rend in Piece
I was pretending to be dropped dead on record
while born to be wild and unhinged. My cardiac arrest
was fond of 50 shades of Gray's Anatomy merged
with Dr. Moreau's island, the abridged version 3.07
Was at peace with myself and I was quite thrilled
to say the least. The mouthpiece of the endangered
meme was a handful of crap playing Black Sunday
while figure-skating with Pearl Harbor and Waterloo
What makes some politicians site musicians to be born
in US? Are they torn between being noticed and being
real... or is fakeness the new avant garde? The new
je ne sais quoi - peut etre come ca... It'l get by somehow!
Whipping my expectations to butter, as the cream was oozing
out of my sweat and nostrils. Noisy Parkers there skedaddling
bamboozled obituaries of hangmans jokes what nobody would
fart about. Still it is necessary to rend in pieces - though in Onepiece.
One is more pace than three without getting confused with conflicting
intentions. When the swan, the cancer and the salmon decide to agree,
that consent is on that they disagree on at least three and a quarter things.
The closest road to finding equilibrium has always been doing nothing!
Why is nihilism so alluring to wise men? Is it that nothing is real;
or for the cold receipt... That we don't want to pay anything else
but the Prometheus way - at least by means of Asclepius, turning
the hoofs over to lead astray and seek some rays of light at the end.
The tunnel vision was still bleak and showing off Rocky Balboa and Rambo
with a sprinkle of Californian dreams. The only reason why Schwarzenegger
couldn't build his library was that he wasn't affiliated with Wizards of the Coast
and a mere namesake and not a real nigger. Arguing with presidents also hurts.
The Summoning misshapen and emerged as the catcher in the rye and lord of the flies.
Nothing is more alarming, than a man who stands on two legs and dost not have tantrums.
Tambourine and sugarmen are always more famous than bats; spiders and sycamore trees.
Suffocating on sophomores suffering of Lycanthropy and Arachnophobia confused together...
Lay it to rest to grow some fools gold just as Pinocchio as some trubadures sang "La Camisa Negra"
and "Ill Grande Niente" with "Rien ne va plus... And rhe casino was closed for there where no
indians nor frog skins in the VIP lounge! Some frenchmen there opening a bottle of gin and there
accursed as traitors. Maybe the station at Bond street should have commented on that but they didn't...
while born to be wild and unhinged. My cardiac arrest
was fond of 50 shades of Gray's Anatomy merged
with Dr. Moreau's island, the abridged version 3.07
Was at peace with myself and I was quite thrilled
to say the least. The mouthpiece of the endangered
meme was a handful of crap playing Black Sunday
while figure-skating with Pearl Harbor and Waterloo
What makes some politicians site musicians to be born
in US? Are they torn between being noticed and being
real... or is fakeness the new avant garde? The new
je ne sais quoi - peut etre come ca... It'l get by somehow!
Whipping my expectations to butter, as the cream was oozing
out of my sweat and nostrils. Noisy Parkers there skedaddling
bamboozled obituaries of hangmans jokes what nobody would
fart about. Still it is necessary to rend in pieces - though in Onepiece.
One is more pace than three without getting confused with conflicting
intentions. When the swan, the cancer and the salmon decide to agree,
that consent is on that they disagree on at least three and a quarter things.
The closest road to finding equilibrium has always been doing nothing!
Why is nihilism so alluring to wise men? Is it that nothing is real;
or for the cold receipt... That we don't want to pay anything else
but the Prometheus way - at least by means of Asclepius, turning
the hoofs over to lead astray and seek some rays of light at the end.
The tunnel vision was still bleak and showing off Rocky Balboa and Rambo
with a sprinkle of Californian dreams. The only reason why Schwarzenegger
couldn't build his library was that he wasn't affiliated with Wizards of the Coast
and a mere namesake and not a real nigger. Arguing with presidents also hurts.
The Summoning misshapen and emerged as the catcher in the rye and lord of the flies.
Nothing is more alarming, than a man who stands on two legs and dost not have tantrums.
Tambourine and sugarmen are always more famous than bats; spiders and sycamore trees.
Suffocating on sophomores suffering of Lycanthropy and Arachnophobia confused together...
Lay it to rest to grow some fools gold just as Pinocchio as some trubadures sang "La Camisa Negra"
and "Ill Grande Niente" with "Rien ne va plus... And rhe casino was closed for there where no
indians nor frog skins in the VIP lounge! Some frenchmen there opening a bottle of gin and there
accursed as traitors. Maybe the station at Bond street should have commented on that but they didn't...
Offend me not!
Entrenched on picket fences; lost the trace to transpose
fending off vultures on sepulture roost who never took on
a flight over Jordan... The white house will mow it and the lawn.
If on root something is fizzling and spiraling embers into a mount.
Charging horses for a discount even for a donkey's head would do!
Crossing the boxes and digging in. Following all footnotes to nosebleed
diving divinations of divorced endorsements of concrete walls and brick-gasms.
Spewing out peewee microwaves what are soft and tender. Butt without lore...
Asses are best cheered by blind bandits who have a poker-face
while Avatar goes in spirit drinking the cup what she never possessed.
Offend me not - when somebody offers his 10 cents and I'm three quarters
down from parler to parlor the manors mason their fervor in spree...
Going postal on continental breakfasts at France as the yellow coats drew a red flag
while the white card was lost in action. How many Republics does it need to
change the light in the bulb to darkness? Suffice if on stagecoach the shotguns are loaded.
better not throw in the corner or on edges as the cut has yet to be directed.
Dichotomy in dissecting the distinction of a clinical meaning behind words, while
some brats are hugging the wrong dream looking for cinnamon rolls and cup-cakes.
It's trolling to see Beergynth play Beowulf and Macbeth Modigliani... It must be
an existential nightmare blighting to flee from what and who you really are or where...
Picking my nose for blood and guts what I lost at a divinity counter discounting mushrooms
for muffled machine-guns while Uziel was hanging out with Raphael and Leonardo...
Coke-dreams there piped down and shut into a formerly disclosed construction site
havocking the northern hemisphere of the brain with cartoon network and the southern with MTV
Broadcasting was witch-hunted into oblivion as someone copyrighted all dictionaries into ASCII format
and asked Cesar and the Borgias to back it up. Machiavelli would not have done it better or worse!
Scoring the foreclosure of eroding eye-sores in diplomatic breakdowns and walloping all critics to do betters
while the floor is wet and the wall is still dripping... Fasting for steadfast grinds left no man standing behind...
As the talking hands there flicking fingers the devil pulled a horn and three dicks into side-winded obscurity.
Scrutinizing the Scrooge of sense while insanity has been made paramount and intolerance common creed!
Shut down while you still say everything meaning bull, radishing the dead horses and Trojan counterparts.
No spartan is welcome at home, because he was not killed in battle even after returning the left shield!
Paying the ivory price as the iron and gold are forged to Aether, contemplating on the convergence
of promiscuous ideology convulsing between controversy and paraphrasing cataphatic theories of
positive thinking over binged criteria. Even if the glass was long broken, it was deemed too full of himself!
Impending on the doom of war-games, some craftsmen set sail to find Atlantis and washed up in Manhattan!
If it there just Philadelphia or Memphis, even Paul would have sent a letter to rectify the discourse and tantrum. Offend me not - as the tenure of meaning was parallel to a diagonal horisontality vertically encircled
with ensorcelled blades left without hashtags and bars to comprehend the new wave of solutions...
The puppy eyes there cutting edge and the crocodile tears there full of acid, corroding even Diablo away.
fending off vultures on sepulture roost who never took on
a flight over Jordan... The white house will mow it and the lawn.
If on root something is fizzling and spiraling embers into a mount.
Charging horses for a discount even for a donkey's head would do!
Crossing the boxes and digging in. Following all footnotes to nosebleed
diving divinations of divorced endorsements of concrete walls and brick-gasms.
Spewing out peewee microwaves what are soft and tender. Butt without lore...
Asses are best cheered by blind bandits who have a poker-face
while Avatar goes in spirit drinking the cup what she never possessed.
Offend me not - when somebody offers his 10 cents and I'm three quarters
down from parler to parlor the manors mason their fervor in spree...
Going postal on continental breakfasts at France as the yellow coats drew a red flag
while the white card was lost in action. How many Republics does it need to
change the light in the bulb to darkness? Suffice if on stagecoach the shotguns are loaded.
better not throw in the corner or on edges as the cut has yet to be directed.
Dichotomy in dissecting the distinction of a clinical meaning behind words, while
some brats are hugging the wrong dream looking for cinnamon rolls and cup-cakes.
It's trolling to see Beergynth play Beowulf and Macbeth Modigliani... It must be
an existential nightmare blighting to flee from what and who you really are or where...
Picking my nose for blood and guts what I lost at a divinity counter discounting mushrooms
for muffled machine-guns while Uziel was hanging out with Raphael and Leonardo...
Coke-dreams there piped down and shut into a formerly disclosed construction site
havocking the northern hemisphere of the brain with cartoon network and the southern with MTV
Broadcasting was witch-hunted into oblivion as someone copyrighted all dictionaries into ASCII format
and asked Cesar and the Borgias to back it up. Machiavelli would not have done it better or worse!
Scoring the foreclosure of eroding eye-sores in diplomatic breakdowns and walloping all critics to do betters
while the floor is wet and the wall is still dripping... Fasting for steadfast grinds left no man standing behind...
As the talking hands there flicking fingers the devil pulled a horn and three dicks into side-winded obscurity.
Scrutinizing the Scrooge of sense while insanity has been made paramount and intolerance common creed!
Shut down while you still say everything meaning bull, radishing the dead horses and Trojan counterparts.
No spartan is welcome at home, because he was not killed in battle even after returning the left shield!
Paying the ivory price as the iron and gold are forged to Aether, contemplating on the convergence
of promiscuous ideology convulsing between controversy and paraphrasing cataphatic theories of
positive thinking over binged criteria. Even if the glass was long broken, it was deemed too full of himself!
Impending on the doom of war-games, some craftsmen set sail to find Atlantis and washed up in Manhattan!
If it there just Philadelphia or Memphis, even Paul would have sent a letter to rectify the discourse and tantrum. Offend me not - as the tenure of meaning was parallel to a diagonal horisontality vertically encircled
with ensorcelled blades left without hashtags and bars to comprehend the new wave of solutions...
The puppy eyes there cutting edge and the crocodile tears there full of acid, corroding even Diablo away.
Friday, November 9, 2018
Insight
Light of darkness; shadow of light;
dimmed the wits of mortal men...
Grave the dangers, endless blight;
nothing insatiates mans lust for them.
Power begets corruption, distrust enforces hatred;
wisdom never embodies the haughty and bold!
Ruin comes after pride, prejudice is its mistress;
turning all you have learned and suffered to fools gold!
Rubbish eats its own legs; gravel entombs his fields;
those who sow lies, never rest, nor go empty of reap.
Fake friends betray themselves, true loose the shield;
defending more important than perseverance for keeps.
Establishment crumbles - many bricks can't keep up;
many debts bankrupt, much vinegar rots tooth!
A thousand friends more worth than the bling and buck;
how many would understand the wisemen's sooth?
Only a stone falls easy, dead fish swim without relent;
hardship is proof of living, just not always the right...
Seek justice, but not notice - avoid the fervent;
passion sometimes like flu - inflammatory blight!
What is your insight? What is your want?
Success is an attitude, dost not seek wisdom!
Those who want "Prevail!" don't listen to: "You can't!"
all they can fathom is Country and Fandom!
Seek bounties beyond sight and riches yonder grasp;
that will succeed those who journey for riches!
Kingdoms fall and nations degrade - alas;
only safe haven shall fare for those like the bitches!
Wisdom is not safe, knowledge not always sane;
intellect rarely sound, included by titles and valor.
It's not sought after by glory, its not looked upon fame;
lore don't keep good accounting of, nor is it kept in a manor!
Head back, if you wish to fare well - dost who seeks wisdom -
abandon is all what awaits, if you should proceed your endeavor!
Those who hope to get immortalized in life - this dumb!
Better looking for window dressings or nice garments wore...
dimmed the wits of mortal men...
Grave the dangers, endless blight;
nothing insatiates mans lust for them.
Power begets corruption, distrust enforces hatred;
wisdom never embodies the haughty and bold!
Ruin comes after pride, prejudice is its mistress;
turning all you have learned and suffered to fools gold!
Rubbish eats its own legs; gravel entombs his fields;
those who sow lies, never rest, nor go empty of reap.
Fake friends betray themselves, true loose the shield;
defending more important than perseverance for keeps.
Establishment crumbles - many bricks can't keep up;
many debts bankrupt, much vinegar rots tooth!
A thousand friends more worth than the bling and buck;
how many would understand the wisemen's sooth?
Only a stone falls easy, dead fish swim without relent;
hardship is proof of living, just not always the right...
Seek justice, but not notice - avoid the fervent;
passion sometimes like flu - inflammatory blight!
What is your insight? What is your want?
Success is an attitude, dost not seek wisdom!
Those who want "Prevail!" don't listen to: "You can't!"
all they can fathom is Country and Fandom!
Seek bounties beyond sight and riches yonder grasp;
that will succeed those who journey for riches!
Kingdoms fall and nations degrade - alas;
only safe haven shall fare for those like the bitches!
Wisdom is not safe, knowledge not always sane;
intellect rarely sound, included by titles and valor.
It's not sought after by glory, its not looked upon fame;
lore don't keep good accounting of, nor is it kept in a manor!
Head back, if you wish to fare well - dost who seeks wisdom -
abandon is all what awaits, if you should proceed your endeavor!
Those who hope to get immortalized in life - this dumb!
Better looking for window dressings or nice garments wore...
Monday, November 5, 2018
I don't like you
Like me, like you - there is a difference
over the pretense of common sense.
I don't like you - don't trespass my ports
as my gates are kept by poison Ivy and wormwood...
Loose me at don't and miss a shot
to take another turn somewhere else
to witch day I hunt my own wilds.
The game was fair enough there as...
Don't touch me, as my poetry strips you apart;
making you naked before your minds eye
I like to love others who don't exist suffocating
on my own social injustice conglomerate,
emanating a touch-screen on demand..
Virtual reality is a bitch and it seems to glitch;
as soon I hit the climax, thus I don't like to pay the piper.
Who stole my yellow pages for Assassins Creed;
I have a new mission for them sanctioned by the Pope himself...
Actually it was Pepe le Pew and the other loonies.
I got Axe for you - I mean deodorant, for you smell like Hell.
Oy, quit playing Diablo while I'm assing smart sounds with my
vocal cords, what want to twist your tongue into an oxymoron.
While I twist it around in your ears and stomach...
My phone got no broadband, so I imagined it instead.
It dimed on me to nickle back my alley and hump a white whale.
My dick-jokes there mopping the floor with Charles Dickens
and Wordsworth, contracting a wild disease of rapping my fingers on the table.
An edge-word is sharper than a sword. You may now pass your leftover time to me.
I meat your offered loaf with breadcrumbs and boil your witch into a raised steak.
Eating sand was also fun since kindergarten, especially bullied to do lists!
Watching faint gestures dry on a given face or occupation gives a lot of intel about...
Sad faces never buy and tears never speak the truth, unless its the front of a Mercedes...
the back of a Porsche might agree on this as it hits on a Lamborghini Miura hanging out
with a Ferrari Stestarossa and McLaren P1 standing next to P3 and chanting:
"The power of three shall set us free!" I could swear Halliwell was turning while engraved
into my coke-dream of too many strong double coffees with extra cream and sugar!
It tore me apart to be so ass-smart that wisdom was snorting his milk out of his nostrils
as I walked down the corrupted memory lane. Even Superman didn't save me af;
the Cryptonyte turned pink! What was I meant to do without a Savior and personal Jesus?
Farewell to your dreams and broken bottles burning down a scarecrow shooing away my mares!
The more the merrier as I callously deceive you to vent on my torment what was meant to be
But its not anything but all and nothing. Just the Butt. Jesting the gestures of G-force
in your endorsed enforcement of color-palettes what had no black and white silver-linings.
I followed the bling into the thieves den and got ruled over a stand-up correction facility...
As I stood silently corrected I foreclosed my philosophy into politically frivolous notions...
Nothing sells better than a booby-trap built into a booby-trap fucking a transposed prerogative
what never even existed, but was still expected to leave its impact on the course of his story,
what was never written or given a strain of thought nor contempt to be more than a Unicorn.
Maybe if written in unicode or Unix it would be a thing... You never know these things!
over the pretense of common sense.
I don't like you - don't trespass my ports
as my gates are kept by poison Ivy and wormwood...
Loose me at don't and miss a shot
to take another turn somewhere else
to witch day I hunt my own wilds.
The game was fair enough there as...
Don't touch me, as my poetry strips you apart;
making you naked before your minds eye
I like to love others who don't exist suffocating
on my own social injustice conglomerate,
emanating a touch-screen on demand..
Virtual reality is a bitch and it seems to glitch;
as soon I hit the climax, thus I don't like to pay the piper.
Who stole my yellow pages for Assassins Creed;
I have a new mission for them sanctioned by the Pope himself...
Actually it was Pepe le Pew and the other loonies.
I got Axe for you - I mean deodorant, for you smell like Hell.
Oy, quit playing Diablo while I'm assing smart sounds with my
vocal cords, what want to twist your tongue into an oxymoron.
While I twist it around in your ears and stomach...
My phone got no broadband, so I imagined it instead.
It dimed on me to nickle back my alley and hump a white whale.
My dick-jokes there mopping the floor with Charles Dickens
and Wordsworth, contracting a wild disease of rapping my fingers on the table.
An edge-word is sharper than a sword. You may now pass your leftover time to me.
I meat your offered loaf with breadcrumbs and boil your witch into a raised steak.
Eating sand was also fun since kindergarten, especially bullied to do lists!
Watching faint gestures dry on a given face or occupation gives a lot of intel about...
Sad faces never buy and tears never speak the truth, unless its the front of a Mercedes...
the back of a Porsche might agree on this as it hits on a Lamborghini Miura hanging out
with a Ferrari Stestarossa and McLaren P1 standing next to P3 and chanting:
"The power of three shall set us free!" I could swear Halliwell was turning while engraved
into my coke-dream of too many strong double coffees with extra cream and sugar!
It tore me apart to be so ass-smart that wisdom was snorting his milk out of his nostrils
as I walked down the corrupted memory lane. Even Superman didn't save me af;
the Cryptonyte turned pink! What was I meant to do without a Savior and personal Jesus?
Farewell to your dreams and broken bottles burning down a scarecrow shooing away my mares!
The more the merrier as I callously deceive you to vent on my torment what was meant to be
But its not anything but all and nothing. Just the Butt. Jesting the gestures of G-force
in your endorsed enforcement of color-palettes what had no black and white silver-linings.
I followed the bling into the thieves den and got ruled over a stand-up correction facility...
As I stood silently corrected I foreclosed my philosophy into politically frivolous notions...
Nothing sells better than a booby-trap built into a booby-trap fucking a transposed prerogative
what never even existed, but was still expected to leave its impact on the course of his story,
what was never written or given a strain of thought nor contempt to be more than a Unicorn.
Maybe if written in unicode or Unix it would be a thing... You never know these things!
The Fall
Leaves change colors - I stand alone;
above the rabble, the Fall on my high horse.
It crept its head on and crossed my mind...
And it snowed static transmissions in a missionary pose,
my vanilla ice-cream didn't like to swallow.
The Nightingale agreed on my Raven to play Canasta
and hit the pinata a different time as the blind folded.
I coined my breathe mint into concrete walls and ivory towers;
for we don't need no education and thought control
while obstinating others to Fall down and bend over.
Winter is not coming, it's already there - Everwinter and Evermist!
I mist myself and the last thread of caution as the geese left
down Mother-river and Fatherland. The Fall!
Something was hibernating inside of me, calling out Eldrazi
the count was negative 5 but I didn't give a fuck.
Starting up democracy, after my deck-protector had lost the game;
a new beginning, gaining momentum from juggernautic endeavours,
berserking the shark share of lion and a hare inside the box - who shall fare?
The wilted leaves smothering my intellect and depression, craving for snow...
Who shall cover it up - the death and deceit, making it romantic?
rob nature of its colors and scents and sounds - to keep it clean.
And static voices there singing their lullabies, my bias didn't encore.
I saw bullshit walking down the road and taking a ferry to Elva...
The picket fences are great for a street-brawl if you believe "The Spring"
but it was Fall and I longed for "Winter" Please don't copyright claim...
"What does not stick, shall be hit stuck!" It struck me like lightning, when first read.
And I kept on falling to my knees and bending over the ravine vomiting into myself;
omitting the commitments to human nature and wisdom of remaining silent...
Ass - the virulent poses of the digressed masses, confused by a bystander
who walked away and coughed. He didn't mean betters, he was having a cold
and burning up. The chicken soup was not helping and neither did Aspirin...
Maybe the star signed some charts what could draw a map to the solution?
I just dismayed my conclusion to stay in touch with my depressions;
remain infused with my overwhelming irony of neglect and ignorance.
The more I amused, the more Jesters there created in My lapse of judgment,
against my betters and in contrast. How beautiful indeed, the leaves falling and the Fall!
above the rabble, the Fall on my high horse.
It crept its head on and crossed my mind...
And it snowed static transmissions in a missionary pose,
my vanilla ice-cream didn't like to swallow.
The Nightingale agreed on my Raven to play Canasta
and hit the pinata a different time as the blind folded.
I coined my breathe mint into concrete walls and ivory towers;
for we don't need no education and thought control
while obstinating others to Fall down and bend over.
Winter is not coming, it's already there - Everwinter and Evermist!
I mist myself and the last thread of caution as the geese left
down Mother-river and Fatherland. The Fall!
Something was hibernating inside of me, calling out Eldrazi
the count was negative 5 but I didn't give a fuck.
Starting up democracy, after my deck-protector had lost the game;
a new beginning, gaining momentum from juggernautic endeavours,
berserking the shark share of lion and a hare inside the box - who shall fare?
The wilted leaves smothering my intellect and depression, craving for snow...
Who shall cover it up - the death and deceit, making it romantic?
rob nature of its colors and scents and sounds - to keep it clean.
And static voices there singing their lullabies, my bias didn't encore.
I saw bullshit walking down the road and taking a ferry to Elva...
The picket fences are great for a street-brawl if you believe "The Spring"
but it was Fall and I longed for "Winter" Please don't copyright claim...
"What does not stick, shall be hit stuck!" It struck me like lightning, when first read.
And I kept on falling to my knees and bending over the ravine vomiting into myself;
omitting the commitments to human nature and wisdom of remaining silent...
Ass - the virulent poses of the digressed masses, confused by a bystander
who walked away and coughed. He didn't mean betters, he was having a cold
and burning up. The chicken soup was not helping and neither did Aspirin...
Maybe the star signed some charts what could draw a map to the solution?
I just dismayed my conclusion to stay in touch with my depressions;
remain infused with my overwhelming irony of neglect and ignorance.
The more I amused, the more Jesters there created in My lapse of judgment,
against my betters and in contrast. How beautiful indeed, the leaves falling and the Fall!
Tuesday, October 16, 2018
In God we doubt
I doubt myself and the songs I sang: "Christ first - money second!";
but then I look at my hand. Did I really meant it or was I doing the
right things - like bitches do clients, did I do God for seconds?
Was I really in it to resolve and forsake every thing for reckoning...
All people know gray-ops no black and white matters get past meh!
I doubt my goals and ventures beyond - good and evil looks the same;
angels and devils just with different titles behind and affront names...
Many fair games bane on the retirement of the Cross to have theirs;
taking time for the manor and car, while Christs bones are dry-in
the sun. The cathedrals we build to hide our ambition and shames!
I doubt the callings for so many doors got their numbers upside down;
some are fallen from the roof or behold on mountaintop; while bowing
like bowling pin-ups cherry picking the dinner tables for a Greek church,
what never happened. So many sermons are explicitly well merged
with authentic stand-up comedies and diagrams, while Hell is short on fans!
I doubt the fasting's and well ate supers. When ever Christians do; I hide
my eyes from rehearsed tears. What do we know about poverty: maybe QWERTY.
Or perhaps OWERTY is our power-trip to nowhere really but some clue,
to have few letters in the line for a star in the sky - maybe a satellite with our name
or red kryptonite, to season the blight for the Superman's defiant heist and smite...
In God we doubt - saying one thing - meaning others, like drunkards spitting our beards;
blowing hot winds and raising the stakes of cattle we never nourished nor shepherd...
Calling on every Genitive whether genuine or possessed by incentive stagnantly weird;
how many contemporaries do prophets have and how many schools or students fed...
Still wrong doings are like scarecrow'ed shoings without the string-man's ordeal nothing is real!
Who is moved by God and who is mowed by Money; who shown off by Fame; who erode
by cunning. Herod and Pilate still friends while gas-masking Jesus.Why should this be not funny?
Still the harlequin amuses to intrigue the inquiries, like Charlemagne on Charleston implores
too queer to be a cheer-leader... Words spoken more than wise men can remain silently stunning
as the breasts feed themselves their poison and filth - the cancer is just a byproduct to keep running!
I doubt myself to go on, but keep kicking. Is there wisdom in man, what deserves to be?
Since Samson and Solomon all is Digimon fused with Rashomon, to have OMON close the deal;
Amon-Ra had a recipe and opened his bra... I had more blah to say, but it was blatantly obvious;
just lacking some blood... Gotta catch the next insanity before someone pushes over the rift first!
Why is it important to know Christs birthday, when we cannot remember to visit our grandparents - say?
but then I look at my hand. Did I really meant it or was I doing the
right things - like bitches do clients, did I do God for seconds?
Was I really in it to resolve and forsake every thing for reckoning...
All people know gray-ops no black and white matters get past meh!
I doubt my goals and ventures beyond - good and evil looks the same;
angels and devils just with different titles behind and affront names...
Many fair games bane on the retirement of the Cross to have theirs;
taking time for the manor and car, while Christs bones are dry-in
the sun. The cathedrals we build to hide our ambition and shames!
I doubt the callings for so many doors got their numbers upside down;
some are fallen from the roof or behold on mountaintop; while bowing
like bowling pin-ups cherry picking the dinner tables for a Greek church,
what never happened. So many sermons are explicitly well merged
with authentic stand-up comedies and diagrams, while Hell is short on fans!
I doubt the fasting's and well ate supers. When ever Christians do; I hide
my eyes from rehearsed tears. What do we know about poverty: maybe QWERTY.
Or perhaps OWERTY is our power-trip to nowhere really but some clue,
to have few letters in the line for a star in the sky - maybe a satellite with our name
or red kryptonite, to season the blight for the Superman's defiant heist and smite...
In God we doubt - saying one thing - meaning others, like drunkards spitting our beards;
blowing hot winds and raising the stakes of cattle we never nourished nor shepherd...
Calling on every Genitive whether genuine or possessed by incentive stagnantly weird;
how many contemporaries do prophets have and how many schools or students fed...
Still wrong doings are like scarecrow'ed shoings without the string-man's ordeal nothing is real!
Who is moved by God and who is mowed by Money; who shown off by Fame; who erode
by cunning. Herod and Pilate still friends while gas-masking Jesus.Why should this be not funny?
Still the harlequin amuses to intrigue the inquiries, like Charlemagne on Charleston implores
too queer to be a cheer-leader... Words spoken more than wise men can remain silently stunning
as the breasts feed themselves their poison and filth - the cancer is just a byproduct to keep running!
I doubt myself to go on, but keep kicking. Is there wisdom in man, what deserves to be?
Since Samson and Solomon all is Digimon fused with Rashomon, to have OMON close the deal;
Amon-Ra had a recipe and opened his bra... I had more blah to say, but it was blatantly obvious;
just lacking some blood... Gotta catch the next insanity before someone pushes over the rift first!
Why is it important to know Christs birthday, when we cannot remember to visit our grandparents - say?
Saturday, October 13, 2018
Enlightenment
Why not marry a child-prostitute as did Hosea
or eat bread on bullshit, like did Ezekiel.
That's what enlightenment came to mean
as God to his followers deemed:
"My people are not following but navel-gazing.
the known world and money more amazing
to them than my kingdom and my words!
Let it be heard - do this and that, be absurd!!"
Why not sit in the den while fed by the ravens?
That brings trust onto a new level to sever cravings;
the connection of establishment and imperfections!
Wanting to be special, loathing the not enough.dissections...
What is to be acted upon in a cave accompanied
by only silly birds and sounds of silence indeed?
How many hours of many years can you withstand?
Will people take you back, when you've broken the brand!
Loose everything you own and are, including your friends in need;
Job was done, but God was not - can you repeat that feat?
Some named their children: "War-spoils" and "Booty"
can you extend your gratitude, then people contempt your goody
two-shoes nature; still keep grinding your everyday without delay.
Or will you forsake your endeavor on the first devour and mayday?
That goes without a say, don't start building towers if got no bricks
to mission completed the show what goes on, while being the side-stick!
Can you loose your face and faith; be like the hollow wraith;
like the pure sound, without meaning; the word without sense and scathe!
Be the color who has no name nor being. To be the unmarked grave;
can you call yourself insane enough to request for that in manners brave?
People loose minds over pretty ladies and sullied titled or broken glaives;
do you really seek enlightenment or is it a spork to avoid forks and knives?
That day that ends, shall descend upon you - like a vulture or raven pick your eyes;
can you abide, as your guts is ripped and your marrow chipped away in lullabies?
Can you forget your sweetness and nice attire, becoming like sack-cloth for the dead
and dire? Will you be able to stand stranded on the sands of neglect or instead;
will you seek for bounties now or never, success for attitudes and amused spires;
will you vengeance for lust and earthly pleasures; putting lever on lever - measures admire?
Can you hover over the people, like a scarecrow over the ravens being their cross
and switchblade; to be unmade and untamed, for the scapegoats namesake at a loss?
When you could seek enlightenment and rejoice in the straight and narrow;
as your navel gazes at sword point and your soul drinks poison from arrows!
or eat bread on bullshit, like did Ezekiel.
That's what enlightenment came to mean
as God to his followers deemed:
"My people are not following but navel-gazing.
the known world and money more amazing
to them than my kingdom and my words!
Let it be heard - do this and that, be absurd!!"
Why not sit in the den while fed by the ravens?
That brings trust onto a new level to sever cravings;
the connection of establishment and imperfections!
Wanting to be special, loathing the not enough.dissections...
What is to be acted upon in a cave accompanied
by only silly birds and sounds of silence indeed?
How many hours of many years can you withstand?
Will people take you back, when you've broken the brand!
Loose everything you own and are, including your friends in need;
Job was done, but God was not - can you repeat that feat?
Some named their children: "War-spoils" and "Booty"
can you extend your gratitude, then people contempt your goody
two-shoes nature; still keep grinding your everyday without delay.
Or will you forsake your endeavor on the first devour and mayday?
That goes without a say, don't start building towers if got no bricks
to mission completed the show what goes on, while being the side-stick!
Can you loose your face and faith; be like the hollow wraith;
like the pure sound, without meaning; the word without sense and scathe!
Be the color who has no name nor being. To be the unmarked grave;
can you call yourself insane enough to request for that in manners brave?
People loose minds over pretty ladies and sullied titled or broken glaives;
do you really seek enlightenment or is it a spork to avoid forks and knives?
That day that ends, shall descend upon you - like a vulture or raven pick your eyes;
can you abide, as your guts is ripped and your marrow chipped away in lullabies?
Can you forget your sweetness and nice attire, becoming like sack-cloth for the dead
and dire? Will you be able to stand stranded on the sands of neglect or instead;
will you seek for bounties now or never, success for attitudes and amused spires;
will you vengeance for lust and earthly pleasures; putting lever on lever - measures admire?
Can you hover over the people, like a scarecrow over the ravens being their cross
and switchblade; to be unmade and untamed, for the scapegoats namesake at a loss?
When you could seek enlightenment and rejoice in the straight and narrow;
as your navel gazes at sword point and your soul drinks poison from arrows!
Contrabusion
I'm for you aghast myself, I put all my merits on the unhappy shelf;
wealth be damned, like a drowned puppy or whelp - loose health
on stealth as I bomb the elves. I lost myself at don't, as selfish ate
some shellfish, doing cat memes and dogging to Shelley's Frankenstein...
No breathe! Abusing the contradictions of a dictionary I ate,
while staring the Gargoyles in a Toy-story what stored three stories.
I hit the roof with my worries OCD the blurry flurry of Baloney's...
I thought Mahoney had too much Robocop to put up shop on a chopper.
The contrast was killing me, or was it killing spree on my unreal game
I fair-gained for thee. Games there mocking my birdie as I shotgunned
the Bogey-man. Somebody understand me when Stan axed Jason,
while Freddy ate cold turkey sandwiches on Thanks-giving and Halloween...
I overstand my workload to bay-roll the pay-troll, watching as pedestrians stroll.
Karma got on my case and drove a Lamborghini Gallardo, as my Prada shoes
there on bullshit. Didn't like to hit the road, jack-hammering the Jack-rabbits
on ribbits of spit, duct taped together on the unsuspecting van. And my Ham egged.
The shit in the bottle got stolen and returned to the garbage bin, I had to laugh out loud
and roll over to play dead on my play station. The controls there borrowed from Linux
to Hy-lux the detox of smartypants pulled up socks what had Murdoc's hand up their ass!
That stomach talk had some backwater dropping to boomerang the booby traps on silos.
"It's alive" The dead meme of being like Duke to nuke em and having a Nobel peace award.
And I'm here to eat all chickens while roasting pussies, who don't know to treat children
in a pub! And that calls himself servant of the King of the Hill what made Benny Hill looked
like on drugs and misspelling Hinn! I don't know what the whimsy to brainstalk the Reaper and grin!
To the death-dance of dance-macabre to sacre-bleu the fleur-de-lis; flourishing the plot-holes
of potters nose, what broke too many times under the flashlight of the grievous fan. Scarecrows
mow more followers than sermons of the Mount could surmount the vomit from explicit content
from Passion of the Christ. What did we see, the truth or S&M? Indulging blood and gore?
And still, video games are too violent. Take that "Saw" and other commercials good faith!
"Badge" is not violent at all - as you urinate on a cop and rape his mouth... Still it's the games fault
that children postal at school, listening to the 6.6.6 version of "We don't need no education!"
abridged version on Common-core. Download it at your local drugstore and cornerstone for Peter.
wealth be damned, like a drowned puppy or whelp - loose health
on stealth as I bomb the elves. I lost myself at don't, as selfish ate
some shellfish, doing cat memes and dogging to Shelley's Frankenstein...
No breathe! Abusing the contradictions of a dictionary I ate,
while staring the Gargoyles in a Toy-story what stored three stories.
I hit the roof with my worries OCD the blurry flurry of Baloney's...
I thought Mahoney had too much Robocop to put up shop on a chopper.
The contrast was killing me, or was it killing spree on my unreal game
I fair-gained for thee. Games there mocking my birdie as I shotgunned
the Bogey-man. Somebody understand me when Stan axed Jason,
while Freddy ate cold turkey sandwiches on Thanks-giving and Halloween...
I overstand my workload to bay-roll the pay-troll, watching as pedestrians stroll.
Karma got on my case and drove a Lamborghini Gallardo, as my Prada shoes
there on bullshit. Didn't like to hit the road, jack-hammering the Jack-rabbits
on ribbits of spit, duct taped together on the unsuspecting van. And my Ham egged.
The shit in the bottle got stolen and returned to the garbage bin, I had to laugh out loud
and roll over to play dead on my play station. The controls there borrowed from Linux
to Hy-lux the detox of smartypants pulled up socks what had Murdoc's hand up their ass!
That stomach talk had some backwater dropping to boomerang the booby traps on silos.
"It's alive" The dead meme of being like Duke to nuke em and having a Nobel peace award.
And I'm here to eat all chickens while roasting pussies, who don't know to treat children
in a pub! And that calls himself servant of the King of the Hill what made Benny Hill looked
like on drugs and misspelling Hinn! I don't know what the whimsy to brainstalk the Reaper and grin!
To the death-dance of dance-macabre to sacre-bleu the fleur-de-lis; flourishing the plot-holes
of potters nose, what broke too many times under the flashlight of the grievous fan. Scarecrows
mow more followers than sermons of the Mount could surmount the vomit from explicit content
from Passion of the Christ. What did we see, the truth or S&M? Indulging blood and gore?
And still, video games are too violent. Take that "Saw" and other commercials good faith!
"Badge" is not violent at all - as you urinate on a cop and rape his mouth... Still it's the games fault
that children postal at school, listening to the 6.6.6 version of "We don't need no education!"
abridged version on Common-core. Download it at your local drugstore and cornerstone for Peter.
Ante or Christ
1.
Get your acts together amp up the rights;
as the 1:1 goes 1:20 some don't feel all-mighty.
And my duke nukem ran out of sprites;
the Pharisee loathed the tax-collector in spite.
Having the tithe as though ante playing cards rightly!
If you swear on the temple but not on the gold feisty...
2.
The Bills there chilling and I lost my last Will;
cracking some pills, I spill my demons on coffee.
The tea was too headstrong, I had to savor the thrill;
remixing all Together's for the frivolous one-night-kill...
My wolf hide had to cover for a sheep to toffee
the crusades made against swirling sideshow mills...
3.
Gathering the Rock to troll the enrolled hard.
There are nice thoughts to go idle in Hell;
Noir or Bleach or some other Alucard...
Allotted my shard of Amaze raw to the bastards!
A lot of fools-gold in my split-pot ringing the Crell...
Standing in the rain of light as darkness bards!
4.
Ante or Christ - that is here the treason;
imprisoned in dismay and regretting to forget...
As I repeat my follies all my vice have seasoned;
how to fight the shining armor and cold reason!
Some axe-heads want with my sword a belittled chat...
who should I roll over to model my character Lead-Cian?
5.
More gods to beguile while saying: "I love Jesus!"
Money the source of Evil but still many antique the fight;
leaning on: "Success is an attitude!" to please us...
I don't know how many leaders I can stand failing siege thus!
Sarumanning the gatekeepers to puff a smoke while swearing blights.
"You shalt not smoke!" and another lie was born from digest read sus!
6.
Gallivanting on believe, while the dog-fights of Christians whistle Real;
who hasn't seen your toothpaste tubed story of wasted fiends?
Can't put it in, what once was rinsed out of the diligent surreal;
The courts are on undertale to vote the Devil for supreme...
"He said thirst - He hit my seconds!" Who cares about Job's friends;
when in distress you're just accounting sins and not offer your Cream?
Get your acts together amp up the rights;
as the 1:1 goes 1:20 some don't feel all-mighty.
And my duke nukem ran out of sprites;
the Pharisee loathed the tax-collector in spite.
Having the tithe as though ante playing cards rightly!
If you swear on the temple but not on the gold feisty...
2.
The Bills there chilling and I lost my last Will;
cracking some pills, I spill my demons on coffee.
The tea was too headstrong, I had to savor the thrill;
remixing all Together's for the frivolous one-night-kill...
My wolf hide had to cover for a sheep to toffee
the crusades made against swirling sideshow mills...
3.
Gathering the Rock to troll the enrolled hard.
There are nice thoughts to go idle in Hell;
Noir or Bleach or some other Alucard...
Allotted my shard of Amaze raw to the bastards!
A lot of fools-gold in my split-pot ringing the Crell...
Standing in the rain of light as darkness bards!
4.
Ante or Christ - that is here the treason;
imprisoned in dismay and regretting to forget...
As I repeat my follies all my vice have seasoned;
how to fight the shining armor and cold reason!
Some axe-heads want with my sword a belittled chat...
who should I roll over to model my character Lead-Cian?
5.
More gods to beguile while saying: "I love Jesus!"
Money the source of Evil but still many antique the fight;
leaning on: "Success is an attitude!" to please us...
I don't know how many leaders I can stand failing siege thus!
Sarumanning the gatekeepers to puff a smoke while swearing blights.
"You shalt not smoke!" and another lie was born from digest read sus!
6.
Gallivanting on believe, while the dog-fights of Christians whistle Real;
who hasn't seen your toothpaste tubed story of wasted fiends?
Can't put it in, what once was rinsed out of the diligent surreal;
The courts are on undertale to vote the Devil for supreme...
"He said thirst - He hit my seconds!" Who cares about Job's friends;
when in distress you're just accounting sins and not offer your Cream?
Sunday, October 7, 2018
Kata Tonic
Laughter got slaughtered; I applauded the chatter;
truth or lie, it never dies - something must be real...
As gushing gets louder and the plot turns thicker;
add a sticker, to kick out the door - somewhat Is - steal?
Abrazing the tunics to rub in the flavor catacombed
the tombs of my thoughts, I awe the terrorized tremors...
Sky shakes the earth, I milk my eyes to be wombed
in the pillow, as I snooze, I loose my thought and rumors!
Catastrophic is the new tropical fruit - I like it brooding inside;
like drinking my triple Earl Gray with coffee, no sugar, what a rush...
Apostrophes stroking my dick I was hard in labor to work'n'hide.
The nighthawk thought, my cuckoo lost some marbles in a mush...
Excited by insight of wicked glee's what remedy rhapsodies
in teal or was it indigo I shall let go to venture into no mans lands.
I can pretend to be tender like Teddy if you give me some Odie's
while I kick Garfield off the table and give him a bearhug-stand!
How many words I can make up to mind your fuzzyness.
Muzzy must have ate my clock, so the work will be delayed.
I contest the bless to move my blink to eye on lazyness.
Dazed and enticed in my verbal grazing I'm perplexed to faze...
The new way to belt to your intercourse a virtuous jerk-off;
may it blow away, the rain falling in my head, as I raze.
The take has not been more angled to be sushi on nude jerky.
I had a fried liver, to eat the murky shorting of my bias...
And the beast was feasting in the lonely room, my broom-shot
had him tamed into a pigeon, as the bigots ate the vallied lillies.
It was no longer valid to be allied to Elfen Lied and I got bot.
I guess, that's what you can define a one-hit-kill is...
truth or lie, it never dies - something must be real...
As gushing gets louder and the plot turns thicker;
add a sticker, to kick out the door - somewhat Is - steal?
Abrazing the tunics to rub in the flavor catacombed
the tombs of my thoughts, I awe the terrorized tremors...
Sky shakes the earth, I milk my eyes to be wombed
in the pillow, as I snooze, I loose my thought and rumors!
Catastrophic is the new tropical fruit - I like it brooding inside;
like drinking my triple Earl Gray with coffee, no sugar, what a rush...
Apostrophes stroking my dick I was hard in labor to work'n'hide.
The nighthawk thought, my cuckoo lost some marbles in a mush...
Excited by insight of wicked glee's what remedy rhapsodies
in teal or was it indigo I shall let go to venture into no mans lands.
I can pretend to be tender like Teddy if you give me some Odie's
while I kick Garfield off the table and give him a bearhug-stand!
How many words I can make up to mind your fuzzyness.
Muzzy must have ate my clock, so the work will be delayed.
I contest the bless to move my blink to eye on lazyness.
Dazed and enticed in my verbal grazing I'm perplexed to faze...
The new way to belt to your intercourse a virtuous jerk-off;
may it blow away, the rain falling in my head, as I raze.
The take has not been more angled to be sushi on nude jerky.
I had a fried liver, to eat the murky shorting of my bias...
And the beast was feasting in the lonely room, my broom-shot
had him tamed into a pigeon, as the bigots ate the vallied lillies.
It was no longer valid to be allied to Elfen Lied and I got bot.
I guess, that's what you can define a one-hit-kill is...
Fools Gold - Who called shotgun on Empathy?
You're not cool, same old; the times have changed - struck gold;
I rush on my thunder, why scold! Join us or highway to broken mold...
I know betters, as wise-men told; why not try new things be bold!
I'm short on patience while playing solitaire; whom could my vanity fare,
then doubled down into blind conscience; confessed the I don't care tense.
I lost my common sense, when compassion got copy-righted by leftist translucence...
It's here, it's there, its everywhere, til nowhere becomes Erewon and offers a dare.
I lick my deer, inside my ensalted mines; fair game is better than the hard scare...
Just like Isayah once womitted poetry on a nightmare - The King is dead - Is God - We're!!
Laughing seagulls wanted to selfie Steven Seagal but got into the frenzie universe and had to call;
the number was closed; hands there fisty-cuffed and fold. Money did a parler, and ate bullshit.
I was inside a cinnamon roll. I troll to engross my slow-mo gender biased role and it was embroiled!
Be more Hufflepuff woah what? So I should be ashamed if meritocracy has a chat? When I want
credit due, to get paid for my swat - because Christian is boo, but let's steal a line, then its a cat!
I refuse to raise my hat, if Sunday - worshipers splat, sprouting out shouts of the badger and bat!
Griffindor's compassion is by tough love. You win friends over and enemies, then you fight the fav.
Not by being thawed by political correctness, loyalty or others paws. Standing your ground in public
as the others roar. Appalled by your last man stand - for here I stand and thus I fall!!
Ravenclaw's compassion is by research and request. Getting through dialogue stuff off the chest.
To rest cases by resolve and believing in the best arguments worthy to defeat the rabble and
war-mongering blood-fest. That is the true quest, indeed if you Godspeed by laissez-faire in trust!
Slytherin's compassion is by merit and class. Some have the gift and some have the brass!
Some are insane - alas - but still got something to say thus! Dost that mean, they messed up
they can't guss? It's so sus, to think that all have to be off the same fuss, to be worthy to pass!
Hufflepuff's compassion is the silent witness! Work hard and pray, life sweats you shitless!
Sometimes their shirtless - they gave their last to the first actress who conned them with trolls,
for Peer Gynt liked Cypress, went over the Hill. That is the chess of confess so don't stress...
One doesn't substitute the other, Ass makes a poor mower. Fox is horrible at babysitting hens -
bummer! You can't expect to brainwash people timing their hammers, in the slammer we shall
regress, what tolerance couldn't dimmer. Damning the dams to gatesweep fans into Hamlet's lan's!
Driving into postal delusions; Drive-in has an allusion to hide the zombie-intrusion; socialist collusion of me, myself and I, is on verbal pollution. I polled the fusion of no-sense. The true Zion had a Nebuchadnezzar moment, ate grass to muse scions. I was short-fused and loose to have my argument die on rouse...
Walk a mile in others - what does it mean? Do they turn into you, to return the past into the future?
Common theme, then you dream a gleam and know what you meany... Sometimes it means, that
the butterfly dies under your pin-up and leans. Being dead liberates the chosen fiends... cheers!
Who called shotgun on Empathy? Was that for real, we ought to feel - everybody like me!
The chosen simulacrum do-deem, not nice to be in it for C! You breathe-size AAA or wee!
My pants can't cry out loud on this trial and let it be. The Beatles also clocks clean... meme!
PMR - Purpose/ Method/ Result
I was inclined to write this, after watching some really great Youtube videos about anxiety and suicide. I'm not an expert on this topic, nor do I possess any kind of decree. I just like to write poetry and comment on other peoples content. Just take me as a fellow monkey, who eats your ticks...
Having problems with depression and anxiety myself (Sounds to himself like Gilderoy Lockhart) I found Gestalt Therapy - the only psychological discourse, you can arbiter to yourself, without seeing a doctor. Because coming from a post soviet state, I'm mortally afraid of doctors, just like Americans are afraid of clowns, after seeing "It". Some doctors worked together with the KGB and helped to social engineer them
into "better" people, and Christians didn't fare quite well, for being duped suspicious by the communists. And here I am myself a Communist/ Christian/ lover of Nietzsche's philosophy and poetry (laughs like proffessor Slughorn) Also I really like doing things myself (sounds like Tom Riddle)
Being all the time in the clouds or into the woods, as it's said, I had a hard time finding friends. So I learned a lot and read... and created my own friends, in a Sasori (Naruto) sort of manner. Because puppets can never betray you - they are not alive, so they can do neither good nor evil. But you're not really alive around the dead. (sounds like Rubeus Hagrid) Creating your imaginary friends can only help you so far, as long you realize it. They're an means to an end, and not real. (Sounds like Hermione Granger)
If you're feeling inadequate, work against it (sounds like Harry Potter) not by chanting, I'm not feeling pain - cause you're feeling it! (fight-club) By transforming the pain into pleasure. First of all - DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME ALONE - you will mess up in the beginning, I can promise you, and you might not be an elegant egotist (from Yugioh series) to be able to stick to your agenda. Find a friend or peer you trust, who reads your diary, as you write your imaginary stories in there, just in case it gets over-board. I have done a lot of meditation; witch-craft and other dubious stuff, before finding solutions, what fitted my character. I hope nobody would have to go through my hell's journey and risk eternal damnation, as I did. At a point in my life, I was even a Satanist. Now it makes me sick, then I see Christians, like Pastor Jeff, gloating about "people who like to destroy their Self!" if a person feels the reality around him/her is so surreal, that he/she rather destroys himself/herself in every conceivable way, that deserves compassion and not ridicule. Anxious and depressed people, by all means, feel disconnected from the society - and it doesn't help if you rub it in by stating what they have, to incline that they are still connected and are just imagining it... It doesn't help your computer, then the IT guy puts a hand on the tower and says, "there there, job done!" Still many depressed people, get exactly that kind of service, because people feel ashamed to be related to a depressed person. And the person in it also!!
So what to do, when you have a craving like in the Snickers commercial I so adore, there you're hungry, but not really hungry, and that urge makes your Mogwai turn into a Gremlin? Find out three things. (Sound like Dumbledore)
1. Purpose: What do you want to achieve.
2. Method: How do you want to achieve your goal.
3. Result: How should your achievement look like.
So in mathematical terms P+M=R while P=R So how to do something there the Method must be invisible and translucent from the action, so you wont notice it anymore, after mission is accomplished? Relax most of the times Purpose and Result don't add up, because of the Method you chose, getting too self-important and evident. Again, I'm not a PHD nor MD nor anything. I merely had a discontinued theology study because I couldn't take Eduard Lohse, while having to write a dissertation on one of his books, due to the fact that the guy was flirting with atheism and science in order to look more classy, while being a Christian pastor, what concluded in his notorious sentence, that he is unable to find Jesus in the Bible! That was not the reason why I became a Christian and enlisted in a Seminary to have a degree and become a pastor. To have a wise-ass dimwit tell me how he can't do his job - finding Jesus in the Bible in a scientific language! That's why you become a theologian. How would you feel then your mechanic comes to you and advises against a gasoline engine in your car, then you asked him to fix that car? You would find a new mechanic, who doesn't have an issue against the primal principle of your request - driving a gasoline engine car. You never asked that guy about Tesla generators and stuff. You had a not working gasoline driven car, you wanted to operate as a gasoline driven car. You didn't wanna upgrade - you wanted to enjoy the experience you already got. And then comes a guy, you hired for that job, and starts telling you something, you didn't ask about. That's how I felt reading about Eduard Lohse, and having to write something about it. So I wrote a play about it, and while the teacher was really amused about it. It didn't apply what he was expecting from this class. I knew it too, then I was purposely botching that chance of mine, while this scholarship was half-payed by my pastor himself I deeply respected and revered. and the other part came from a student loan, I took. But I didn't sign up for this. Becoming a gloater, who laughs about his own ideals, in order to be credited by the scientists. I don't need to be credible by the outside, for just as Jesus once told, things from the outside don't corrupt you, things from the inside do! I only have to own integrity before me and God, and that didn't cut it for me...
So I don't belong to my church anymore - not even my former pastor belongs there - just because they there scared of teenagers and adapting to their needs while holding fast to Lohse! I couldn't live with the sarcasm and irony of that... (Sounds like Delfador - Wesnoth)
You have to deal with your insides, because that's there your demons hide, as one of my favorite songs tells. That can elevate or destroy you. Standing in front of the mirror of Erised (Desire backwards - Harry Potter) wanting to find something you don't want to use/abuse!! That's the +-1 what comes from the Method...
Just like in Harry Potter: If you let yourself possessed by Voldemort in order to find true power and meaning of Evil, you might loose too much and not achieve your true goal, what professor Quirell had - being a good teacher of his class.) You have to be detached of your faculty while not being absent-minded of it... You can't be possessed by it in such length that you would kill Harry Potter, who you previously worshiped the ground underneath level. Be sensible and know who you are. (Gnothi seauthon - Greek proverb Socrates was greatly against it, because it was widely abused to gloat your beliefs about yourself and not actual knowledge about yourself. The most notorious was then he took a sign down from an entrance of a villa so the owner could enter, because it stated and oxymoron: "Only the wise can enter!" It's not a wise thing to say that you think yourself wise and want to troll people into confusion on your doorstep as they answer your possible invitation, for it was rood to ignore one, so how should someone fare in front of such sign and not feeling wise enough to enter, while still possessing integrity to notice such oddity, then that person dost not want to dish the landlord? Simply put, not even God can enter such a house!! ) You can only ask yourself to know yourself, without ringing the bell and having a shout out of it... Know why you are that and what you want to achieve in being so and so! That is the real purpose of your life, and no pastor nor mayor nor anybody else can tell you about it but YOU! (Sounds like Sirius Black/Severus Snape in one person)
Seconds: DON'T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOUR METHOD!
Many Christians are method oriented and not mission oriented. They copy-paste the method, what worked in the past, while not understanding why it worked then and dost not work now. In contrast they are like a pazer-chessplayer who only comments copies famous chess player moves and dost not understand his losses, because time does not stand still and people learn from their mistakes and invent new moves and strategies. Try to be something so that people don't notice your method. Just like with pickpockets, if people notice you, you did something wrong and you're out. People don't draw their attention to water flowing in the river, because the river don't send a tweet about flowing in the river. The wind assailing over the mountain and around it, doesn't shout about it and gets unnoticed - but you definitely notice the shouts and tweets of "Christians" how they defeated the Devil; how they shouted an awesome sermon; how they owned their opponent. While Jesus asks us to turn the other cheek. How very Christian of them, I'd rather read Nietzsche, than converse with such people or enjoy the play of Fischer, although mostly he was a picky bitch, when it came to cameras and other stuff related to respect towards chess-players from the Soviet Union, but his insight was priceless... Those two person didn't wanna be perfect Christian embodyments, just like Sören Kierkegaard, fighting his local establishment inside the church, didn't wanna - but I've learned more about true Christendom from those "non-Christians" than from "actual Christians". Why is it that?
Maybe because the method has possessed the cause, and taken the place and roll of God himself? The same issue is with SJW but since I'm not gay nor any other thing inside, I don't want to talk about this. Being a white male with odd tastes, I have enough demons of my own to fight, so I don't need seconds from SJW, thank you very much...
So if you wanna get rid of depression, which I do through poetry and Christendom - that's my bias - find something you believe in no matter what. Even if the world ends in a zombie apocalypse now, what is the thing you wont part from! Expect it do be a journey not a one shot effect. It's not an instant you can play in MTG unless you think your depression, being your opponent, can mana-leak it, owning the worsed control deck you could imagine... It's all about imagination. Sometimes its good, sometimes its evil... the choice is yours which one will take priority over you - the good or the evil. You can be your own personal Jesus... Yet another song I like and admire. (Sounds like Gandalf - Lord of the Rings)
Thirds: BE VIGILANT AND RELENTLESS IN YOUR QUEST!
If something is right it's worthy of pursuit, even if all your friends disavow you Mission Impossible stile... You can't rage-quit your life like some MTG players for loosing a game or not getting their mechanic to work, because of something. That's what suiciding for me really means. You're rage-quitting, giving up on your goals and friends, who trusted and respected you, and you didn't notice em, while being truncated with pain and misery. A lot of things can truncate your senses. Alcohol; staying up too long; too much religion or politics etc. You're taking a shortcut in your actions and sometimes when you do, your A2+B2=C2 becomes A4+B4 / C4, because you reason got shorted out and you cast the baby out with the dirty water so to speak. Don't add things up on top of your Quest. Know what you really want Kill Bill stile. The Indians at Wounded Knee had a worthy cause, they there fighting for their land and cultural inheritance. They there doing it the wrong way, by listening to a false prophet and got butchered. Did the US government and its representatives stop them doing a mistake? Hell no! That's what they needed to get the entire cake and not just a piece of it. They capitalized on that mistake to make the Indians look like witches and trial them by their own errors. And the Indians lost everything! They there committing a ritual social suicide... be better than that and don't give in to your bullies. Be a better person by not letting your Batman turn to Joker or more importantly - your Harvey Dent turn to Two-Face!! Take your luck into your own account, but acknowledge that not always you get things done your way, sometimes you have to go Highway Matrix stile - and you're the key-master. Shit will happen to you; to your loved ones; bad people get excused from their negative Karma on your watch, and you can do very little to nothing against it, while some people are praising that status quo. That's life for you! Touche - c'est la vie! But you can live betters than that and not rage-quit! I chose poetry for that. what will you choose! (Sounds like Walgekaaren (Whiteraven - odd cookie)- Myself)
PS: Don't forget to laugh about yourself and chill every now and then just as I learned from Nietzche's laughing lion! Being too serious is the root of all evil, just like having too much money - because seriousness is the ghost-click currency of society you credit things due. And you can overwhelm and underrate things.
If interest presents itself, I may write more about it - either from myself or readers (why would there be?) til then peace out; respect and Godspeed!
Having problems with depression and anxiety myself (Sounds to himself like Gilderoy Lockhart) I found Gestalt Therapy - the only psychological discourse, you can arbiter to yourself, without seeing a doctor. Because coming from a post soviet state, I'm mortally afraid of doctors, just like Americans are afraid of clowns, after seeing "It". Some doctors worked together with the KGB and helped to social engineer them
into "better" people, and Christians didn't fare quite well, for being duped suspicious by the communists. And here I am myself a Communist/ Christian/ lover of Nietzsche's philosophy and poetry (laughs like proffessor Slughorn) Also I really like doing things myself (sounds like Tom Riddle)
Being all the time in the clouds or into the woods, as it's said, I had a hard time finding friends. So I learned a lot and read... and created my own friends, in a Sasori (Naruto) sort of manner. Because puppets can never betray you - they are not alive, so they can do neither good nor evil. But you're not really alive around the dead. (sounds like Rubeus Hagrid) Creating your imaginary friends can only help you so far, as long you realize it. They're an means to an end, and not real. (Sounds like Hermione Granger)
If you're feeling inadequate, work against it (sounds like Harry Potter) not by chanting, I'm not feeling pain - cause you're feeling it! (fight-club) By transforming the pain into pleasure. First of all - DO NOT DO THIS AT HOME ALONE - you will mess up in the beginning, I can promise you, and you might not be an elegant egotist (from Yugioh series) to be able to stick to your agenda. Find a friend or peer you trust, who reads your diary, as you write your imaginary stories in there, just in case it gets over-board. I have done a lot of meditation; witch-craft and other dubious stuff, before finding solutions, what fitted my character. I hope nobody would have to go through my hell's journey and risk eternal damnation, as I did. At a point in my life, I was even a Satanist. Now it makes me sick, then I see Christians, like Pastor Jeff, gloating about "people who like to destroy their Self!" if a person feels the reality around him/her is so surreal, that he/she rather destroys himself/herself in every conceivable way, that deserves compassion and not ridicule. Anxious and depressed people, by all means, feel disconnected from the society - and it doesn't help if you rub it in by stating what they have, to incline that they are still connected and are just imagining it... It doesn't help your computer, then the IT guy puts a hand on the tower and says, "there there, job done!" Still many depressed people, get exactly that kind of service, because people feel ashamed to be related to a depressed person. And the person in it also!!
So what to do, when you have a craving like in the Snickers commercial I so adore, there you're hungry, but not really hungry, and that urge makes your Mogwai turn into a Gremlin? Find out three things. (Sound like Dumbledore)
1. Purpose: What do you want to achieve.
2. Method: How do you want to achieve your goal.
3. Result: How should your achievement look like.
So in mathematical terms P+M=R while P=R So how to do something there the Method must be invisible and translucent from the action, so you wont notice it anymore, after mission is accomplished? Relax most of the times Purpose and Result don't add up, because of the Method you chose, getting too self-important and evident. Again, I'm not a PHD nor MD nor anything. I merely had a discontinued theology study because I couldn't take Eduard Lohse, while having to write a dissertation on one of his books, due to the fact that the guy was flirting with atheism and science in order to look more classy, while being a Christian pastor, what concluded in his notorious sentence, that he is unable to find Jesus in the Bible! That was not the reason why I became a Christian and enlisted in a Seminary to have a degree and become a pastor. To have a wise-ass dimwit tell me how he can't do his job - finding Jesus in the Bible in a scientific language! That's why you become a theologian. How would you feel then your mechanic comes to you and advises against a gasoline engine in your car, then you asked him to fix that car? You would find a new mechanic, who doesn't have an issue against the primal principle of your request - driving a gasoline engine car. You never asked that guy about Tesla generators and stuff. You had a not working gasoline driven car, you wanted to operate as a gasoline driven car. You didn't wanna upgrade - you wanted to enjoy the experience you already got. And then comes a guy, you hired for that job, and starts telling you something, you didn't ask about. That's how I felt reading about Eduard Lohse, and having to write something about it. So I wrote a play about it, and while the teacher was really amused about it. It didn't apply what he was expecting from this class. I knew it too, then I was purposely botching that chance of mine, while this scholarship was half-payed by my pastor himself I deeply respected and revered. and the other part came from a student loan, I took. But I didn't sign up for this. Becoming a gloater, who laughs about his own ideals, in order to be credited by the scientists. I don't need to be credible by the outside, for just as Jesus once told, things from the outside don't corrupt you, things from the inside do! I only have to own integrity before me and God, and that didn't cut it for me...
So I don't belong to my church anymore - not even my former pastor belongs there - just because they there scared of teenagers and adapting to their needs while holding fast to Lohse! I couldn't live with the sarcasm and irony of that... (Sounds like Delfador - Wesnoth)
You have to deal with your insides, because that's there your demons hide, as one of my favorite songs tells. That can elevate or destroy you. Standing in front of the mirror of Erised (Desire backwards - Harry Potter) wanting to find something you don't want to use/abuse!! That's the +-1 what comes from the Method...
Just like in Harry Potter: If you let yourself possessed by Voldemort in order to find true power and meaning of Evil, you might loose too much and not achieve your true goal, what professor Quirell had - being a good teacher of his class.) You have to be detached of your faculty while not being absent-minded of it... You can't be possessed by it in such length that you would kill Harry Potter, who you previously worshiped the ground underneath level. Be sensible and know who you are. (Gnothi seauthon - Greek proverb Socrates was greatly against it, because it was widely abused to gloat your beliefs about yourself and not actual knowledge about yourself. The most notorious was then he took a sign down from an entrance of a villa so the owner could enter, because it stated and oxymoron: "Only the wise can enter!" It's not a wise thing to say that you think yourself wise and want to troll people into confusion on your doorstep as they answer your possible invitation, for it was rood to ignore one, so how should someone fare in front of such sign and not feeling wise enough to enter, while still possessing integrity to notice such oddity, then that person dost not want to dish the landlord? Simply put, not even God can enter such a house!! ) You can only ask yourself to know yourself, without ringing the bell and having a shout out of it... Know why you are that and what you want to achieve in being so and so! That is the real purpose of your life, and no pastor nor mayor nor anybody else can tell you about it but YOU! (Sounds like Sirius Black/Severus Snape in one person)
Seconds: DON'T DRAW ATTENTION TO YOUR METHOD!
Many Christians are method oriented and not mission oriented. They copy-paste the method, what worked in the past, while not understanding why it worked then and dost not work now. In contrast they are like a pazer-chessplayer who only comments copies famous chess player moves and dost not understand his losses, because time does not stand still and people learn from their mistakes and invent new moves and strategies. Try to be something so that people don't notice your method. Just like with pickpockets, if people notice you, you did something wrong and you're out. People don't draw their attention to water flowing in the river, because the river don't send a tweet about flowing in the river. The wind assailing over the mountain and around it, doesn't shout about it and gets unnoticed - but you definitely notice the shouts and tweets of "Christians" how they defeated the Devil; how they shouted an awesome sermon; how they owned their opponent. While Jesus asks us to turn the other cheek. How very Christian of them, I'd rather read Nietzsche, than converse with such people or enjoy the play of Fischer, although mostly he was a picky bitch, when it came to cameras and other stuff related to respect towards chess-players from the Soviet Union, but his insight was priceless... Those two person didn't wanna be perfect Christian embodyments, just like Sören Kierkegaard, fighting his local establishment inside the church, didn't wanna - but I've learned more about true Christendom from those "non-Christians" than from "actual Christians". Why is it that?
Maybe because the method has possessed the cause, and taken the place and roll of God himself? The same issue is with SJW but since I'm not gay nor any other thing inside, I don't want to talk about this. Being a white male with odd tastes, I have enough demons of my own to fight, so I don't need seconds from SJW, thank you very much...
So if you wanna get rid of depression, which I do through poetry and Christendom - that's my bias - find something you believe in no matter what. Even if the world ends in a zombie apocalypse now, what is the thing you wont part from! Expect it do be a journey not a one shot effect. It's not an instant you can play in MTG unless you think your depression, being your opponent, can mana-leak it, owning the worsed control deck you could imagine... It's all about imagination. Sometimes its good, sometimes its evil... the choice is yours which one will take priority over you - the good or the evil. You can be your own personal Jesus... Yet another song I like and admire. (Sounds like Gandalf - Lord of the Rings)
Thirds: BE VIGILANT AND RELENTLESS IN YOUR QUEST!
If something is right it's worthy of pursuit, even if all your friends disavow you Mission Impossible stile... You can't rage-quit your life like some MTG players for loosing a game or not getting their mechanic to work, because of something. That's what suiciding for me really means. You're rage-quitting, giving up on your goals and friends, who trusted and respected you, and you didn't notice em, while being truncated with pain and misery. A lot of things can truncate your senses. Alcohol; staying up too long; too much religion or politics etc. You're taking a shortcut in your actions and sometimes when you do, your A2+B2=C2 becomes A4+B4 / C4, because you reason got shorted out and you cast the baby out with the dirty water so to speak. Don't add things up on top of your Quest. Know what you really want Kill Bill stile. The Indians at Wounded Knee had a worthy cause, they there fighting for their land and cultural inheritance. They there doing it the wrong way, by listening to a false prophet and got butchered. Did the US government and its representatives stop them doing a mistake? Hell no! That's what they needed to get the entire cake and not just a piece of it. They capitalized on that mistake to make the Indians look like witches and trial them by their own errors. And the Indians lost everything! They there committing a ritual social suicide... be better than that and don't give in to your bullies. Be a better person by not letting your Batman turn to Joker or more importantly - your Harvey Dent turn to Two-Face!! Take your luck into your own account, but acknowledge that not always you get things done your way, sometimes you have to go Highway Matrix stile - and you're the key-master. Shit will happen to you; to your loved ones; bad people get excused from their negative Karma on your watch, and you can do very little to nothing against it, while some people are praising that status quo. That's life for you! Touche - c'est la vie! But you can live betters than that and not rage-quit! I chose poetry for that. what will you choose! (Sounds like Walgekaaren (Whiteraven - odd cookie)- Myself)
PS: Don't forget to laugh about yourself and chill every now and then just as I learned from Nietzche's laughing lion! Being too serious is the root of all evil, just like having too much money - because seriousness is the ghost-click currency of society you credit things due. And you can overwhelm and underrate things.
If interest presents itself, I may write more about it - either from myself or readers (why would there be?) til then peace out; respect and Godspeed!
Friday, October 5, 2018
Crimson King
1.
I
strike a perfect match to surrogate my sticks, slapping
the
wood for the amber and sulfur scent. Nothing is as it
seems;
supplementing the tempest of psyche with inane
fliers
saying “Tempus fugit”, tempering the steer to not show
off,
what I mean, while being a sully… Contempt is all,
I
need, to dissipate into a thin crowd and crown myself Ass-King.
I'm
just asking for opinions, to pin the lion on onions and go scarlet.
2.
Crimson
is the new white, and scarlet the new black; blushing like cologne,
to
vent the suffocated minds some Astair, abstaining the maimed affair
of
seeing
minced meat defeated by suspense. My pencil did not see it cumming,
as
my RC gave up and started a strike, I was on my third and was cold
out.
I
gave my number to the fat lady, so she could sing me something nice,
before
the
curtain curtails my entrails of enraging on the snails and bail out
the running
refrigerator,
what had too much hot coffee. Must have been a hangmans joke…
3.
I
was nodding towards the Flintstones to reprobate the utopia of
perpetual mobiles!
Anger
filled my eyes and became the beholder of beauty and virtuous
stimulations,
what
instigated the matrix of repeated menageries of psycho-morphed
individuals,
sodomized
into S&M like M&M's in a jar. It made me feel betters, that I
didn't
consider
to shoot the Sheriff, and not kill the deputy, while I was dressing
myself
in
womanized ascensions for my calculus exam. Puny in my effort to
distort reality
just
in case, I have to lay down and rest in peace; the closure was
self-evident…
4.
I
filed my maniacs under the carpet, as the animations went berserk,
disengaging
from
old cartoons of bombshell heads blowing your minds. Hebdo was an
asshole,
who
wiseassed the visage of boxing opponents, who there already down for
the
discount.
It was called shadow-doxxing; the ghost-click was just a flicker
away…
It's
funny to see others turmoil, turncoat all dried walls to pink
sucker-punched lines,
as
though decency is decadent and voyeur avant-garde to abstract
savant recipients
of
Homo sufficient batman stories of climbing down the wall to Dante's
inferno!
5.
It
is safe to assume, the ass fumed interludes of Shakespeare's
“Macbeth”
and
I was sitting down stoned and crucified into a hoarcrux of
hoarse-raddish
and
cottage-cheese to make my own golem and do Bruce Allmighty.
As
I did God, the devil was not impressed and framed the mirror empty.
The
details craved for more whistle blowers, who could guide Lyrgoif out
of
the woods as the wicked witch was eating the sandman. The course of
my play
had
an edge in all kinds of evil deeds, I didn't recall on my polygraph…
6.
The
paragraph was long and graffiti hung over the giraffe of stain in Las
Vegas.
Some
generals there fanning out to coup their detachments into
astonishment
of
Cosmopolitan dreams, while remaining entrenched in Vitriol ghettos.
I
arranged my derangements into a derringer of sane stories of inside
jokes.
I
wanted to make the ends meat my last supper; as I was chasing after
the green fairy;
it
was neat to see it go my way and not the wise man say. I was left
over right in the center of the storm eying the last peace of cake in
the shape of the devils triangle.
7.
It
wasn't distasteful at all to appall the apt of craven thrall,
applauding the
Laudanum
of judgment calls to know what the mentally ill may snore, when
water-boarded
to oblivion. I alleviated some graceful anthems of a Queen
that
the show must go on, as the cancer ate my homework. You have to
suffer
for
art, but who makes the deliberations of where they happen! Who art
thou
to
thus say to the lord of popular discord, that you are the blind
customers King?
Even
if I'm wrong, the right is just an inch away from the bulls eye, what
got pierced.
Monday, October 1, 2018
The Summoning
1.
Prospects of virtue, hopes of great venture, you get what you give;
forget what's in your sleeve - is it a hand or an ace, rat-races outpaced.
Maybe the promised land, your trick or your trade, holding your glaive.
Rave the day, the ravens had a say, and men understood out of grace!
2.
Wanting to be famous, hoping to be special, protecting your interest;
you never look for enemies close, but friends afar - like a wormwood jar.
More fears in the mind than Midas could abide as sorrow infests
your time and effort. Null is your impact, when the last breathe is drawn!
3.
Don't cast out demons, more than you'd defeat; don't summon angels,
more than you'd worship! Other mans scorn, some chosen's whip...
A blessing in disguise, what you can't remorse. We're endangered,
when playing God, while suffering like newts - shouldering the chip!
4.
Wanting to be big boys and tough chicks; who is betters our skill or the play?
Summoning passion with rigor to bleed your own success. I confess the excess.
Loosing your mind and burning like a candle - as the wise men once said;
it's not nice to taste the bread from the bowl, milked by the serpents mess...
5.
What you see, you cannot unsee, what you taste unknow from your tongue;
what is real, defined by your choices. Don't choose to jump the ravine!
Many have ventured to never return, leaving behind only sobbed blue songs;
still amazing is youth, how it grows to redeem - fall boys the futures eagles may be!
Prospects of virtue, hopes of great venture, you get what you give;
forget what's in your sleeve - is it a hand or an ace, rat-races outpaced.
Maybe the promised land, your trick or your trade, holding your glaive.
Rave the day, the ravens had a say, and men understood out of grace!
2.
Wanting to be famous, hoping to be special, protecting your interest;
you never look for enemies close, but friends afar - like a wormwood jar.
More fears in the mind than Midas could abide as sorrow infests
your time and effort. Null is your impact, when the last breathe is drawn!
3.
Don't cast out demons, more than you'd defeat; don't summon angels,
more than you'd worship! Other mans scorn, some chosen's whip...
A blessing in disguise, what you can't remorse. We're endangered,
when playing God, while suffering like newts - shouldering the chip!
4.
Wanting to be big boys and tough chicks; who is betters our skill or the play?
Summoning passion with rigor to bleed your own success. I confess the excess.
Loosing your mind and burning like a candle - as the wise men once said;
it's not nice to taste the bread from the bowl, milked by the serpents mess...
5.
What you see, you cannot unsee, what you taste unknow from your tongue;
what is real, defined by your choices. Don't choose to jump the ravine!
Many have ventured to never return, leaving behind only sobbed blue songs;
still amazing is youth, how it grows to redeem - fall boys the futures eagles may be!
Sunday, September 30, 2018
„Are you Sirius?”
1.
People
go ballistic on something about, just because I care;
some
crazy shout, an angry smurf pouts to blow my stack –
as
though it's made of straw. My housing is sound, including the roof.
Don't
have to be George Clooney, to drink your coffee and call it sour.
No
need to marry me and rue. Yes I'm Sirius, my last name is Black!
Your
eyes will be, and heaven-blue if you don't get off my case asap!!
Still
got no clue, there the offer came to my coffer on my woof.
Have
no show for any cur what trespasses on my curfew to loose fur…
2.
I'm
Sirius because, I'm spaced out, while being sensed commonly.
No
need to intense the bravado with your nindo like you do – I don't!
Won't
you get off my case and face some other rivers that crossed your
mind.
I
am “Defind” to define the aching tooth and find your funny bone;
to
fight back the grayhound of dull Mondays on grind to show off on that
bind!
When
I do, let's not get married cause you'll loose me at the first
donkey.
You
know – don't push this shiny red button kind of wee, I don't wanna
be.
I'm
not going there, because I'm ruling there and sending a postcard
here…
3.
For
it spells doom, if I cannot boom your gloomy nature with some
nurtured
impending
bloomers, who vowed to stay true, but missed the spot, mate turd.
That's
you call mature, if you follow your inner nature and chur your wazzup
waxing
on the vexed sex what got folks perplexed hexing the snitch into
dust.
I'm
hungry, and the sandwich was dodgy, so I'm hoping the mushrooms taste
betters!
Catering
the jet-setters to gather around the table to Ouija the bruised blue
jar;
what
was leaking manna, and I thought I'm in Heaven – but you can't
have manna
on
Saturday! It really sucked, so I threw it away and dismayed the
others says.
4.
Savage
is my aptitude; ligature my way of life. To ill the farewells;
so
you may chill and have a pill on sarcasm if you don't – I will,
shant thee?
So
you may forget your “Hells” and “Damns” in here, mayday the
fowl says;
Fowler
the wrinkles out of your play-set to be happy and not upset over
checkers
and
take that… I think I bit my cat. And my tongue caught a robber;
after
I
was reeking of Jim Beam and went out fishing but came home empty so…
You
gotta catch something, even if it's the flu! A friend of mine caught
his
wife cheating. Now that was a terrible catch indeed… She was 68!
5.
So
anyway, how to say and verbalize my highway to find yours.
It
scours to do chores but for mores, an ass is better than snores of
Sonnets
to
score then you cannot read nor understand Chinease to do overboars.
You
know those nasty critters (whores), who jump around the commercials;
when
a content creator became a creature, and lost his soul to the
feature.
Compliance
to a voluptuous borgasm of formality is not an option.
I
want the real thing and not some gummy-bear fun on my ears bores.
And
the show is not going on, because somebody flagged it! Why?? sobs
6.
I'm
still Sirius, but had to change my name into something… stronger;
faster;
better… what would really state my stand and grandeur with
steadfast
vigor
and rigorous might; hold the banner of funny upright, to be shunny
on
your forlorn chin, what got cake on and no smily. Still its sexy to
be
beguiling
you out of depression, lets recession the rehearsal to reverse
the
nurse, who was Joker, but not on my watch I got willed by Baywatch!
Batman
also wanted a take on this, so I had to agree on the homage:
I'm
at home on my own image, to mage my rage into sage smells on stage!
Friday, September 28, 2018
Mirror Force
Enforce
your endorsed thoughts for a chosen remorse what codes some morse;
but no cryptic letters to be runed to death. Luring Georg Lurich into
the abyss like its Zürich too rich is a glitch and too poor is a
bogged moor. Expectations spectate your spies into envisions of
species off topic and too many of some kind. My none of a kind had a
small blind and favored the murky Savior of Diablo, stabbing my
forehead with the horn and be done with it...
Glimpsing,
who is more chosen on this realm than "Showtight" - the
cases are closed and not upon debate. Still reprobating the
race-bated hearings what got figurescated into ice on steel. Diamonds
there supposed to be the best friends, yet nobody loves the dentist,
when he pokes your tooth with an encrusted stick... So wicked to even
fidget that! Wanting to be best without effort walnutritioning the
sentiments of stalemates put up on rent. Its all kinds of evil
malevolencing the movements commenced in a grin...
We
expect to others fair as our vanity dost not. Enchained in the ivory
tower of a black horse, gifted to us by a blind Greek merchant, who
was too deep a geek, to be turned town; or simply a vagabond and
under the protection of Darwin. Or was that Green Peace what
endangered some deranged angerments into a mouthpiece? I deface the
image of self and see - it's not what I mean on lease to release the
bloodhounds; underground the scapegoats and grease, what saw too much
opera while eating soap.
The
Ore was melting my thoughts and I despaired some sunglasses from a
tar-pit, darting fake-dates and outsmarting back-drafted side-winds
over the rainbow and piggyback; fools-scolding the oldies that dared
to be not grumpy enough. Enoch emoted eunuchs, who didn't feel rough
to cough up gouged eyes engorged to the cosine sign and be fine! I
filed it under Blair to bewitch the bewildered me with a new form of
abstraction, what in terms was subtraction with a supposition of
interaction correlated with stagnated fraction!
The
exclamation mark barked under my navel and I gazed upon him, like he
had done wrong. Again! Why is he wetting inside my slippers and not
on the newspapers I put on the right spot? And the stench every time,
it rains and my friends bring home their thunder... I just wish
Asclepius would cleptomanicly regress it out of my premise! The doggy
want's to go home, and I'm alone in myself to do his bidding and roam
free. To and through, like the devil without horns ans shouts. Some
mistletoe's toe trucked my nip-tucked tit fucked horse shoe sized
toes out of Grace Kelly's shows!
At
least the thought counts, discounting all the times Sundays made me
vengeful, not because of work; a fork in the road was far more
menacing emancipating the fancy of Tom Clancy going postal on chance.
A sling-shot of dubious people, who don't know how hard is to
bodyguard malls and appalled security laws. I must bestow the best
owned cow what mowed the lawn faster than the mayor could steal the
show… It was hilarious in slow-motion, I was robo-dripping til
August met woke September and I wore bluejeans… My Avatar had some
bruises as he met some betters and had to address shortcomings...
Cutting
bosses from the hilt is not an easy task to operate, incorporating
the unrated treats of outdated defeats into victories what never
really posed a chance to meek. Wreaking havoc on the feels I reek.
Reaping the rewards what nobody would show on to betroth the silent
threats under the carpet. It was too dutch and was flying around
anyway, so what gives! The chemical compound was too well
Christianized too lubricate brigands and Hula hoops who thought too
much Gandalf and Al Bundy goofs to have a roof on top of their head
as their left the shirt on. And the bread on the table was black!
Thursday, September 27, 2018
Offense
Behind
the fence of my pants I pant;
the
don't and can't is making me saint…
Being
the oral conscience, while my deeds wilt like roses;
stinking
more than smoked socks strike resemblance!
I
drink whiskey on the rocks – no, that's my pretense with cola;
got
no drivers license for lack of attention and cocks.
Still
licensed to kill with my comments tormenting the commons;
commending
the comas while beheading the dot's on the I…
I
rend the spirit of some other whiteboard cards
what
got screeched on my ears. Black-boarding the soot
as
though it was black salt or sugar. And tar, as cough-drops;
dropping
the beat of dripping paint on the window dressing,
what
got broadcast on air for the picket fence and housings…
The
parchment of my apartment didn't contest your tooth nor bent
hell
into a bow to rain some may have been and seemingly well's!
I
didn't know how to sell it – so I went back to my anon grind…
Dye-versing
the parceled diversions under my umbrella;
as
anvils and veni vidi vici are hurled around the clock…
Pulling
down my socks, being naked under my contempt;
smothered
by the gasps of mortality, dwarfed with bigoted shouts,
how
to think fast and furious, but without a scowl back…
I
regress the mare of being wet while dry on Martiny;
buttoning
the shirt on the neck but leaving the zipper open…
How
many laps there relapsed in this absent minded caps – fill in the
flanks?
Blanking
the armies, what never assaulted nor there drafted;
scripting
con-artists conscience to coincide with incense.
To
dank memes of never happened shadow boxing dreams;
surrounded
by puppets and pet dragons who think like their rats.
Some
ants there supporting white elephants in the mirror shop
accusing
the owner of seven years of cheating by spouce while never married!
It
carried on with its sully to weary the vultures without spicy tastes.
I
created some hasty feasts O.D distastes, tracing back my lace on thy
embrace!
Embering
my race of fastest stun in the crest to have my blue ribbon;
as
I nibble away all common sense to be special in my prevents.
Venting
the valve of my cloaked obstructed content from the abyss.
Creeping
closer evermisting the words, like a chain-smoker cancers lungs.
Evengreen
in my eventful scenes I flash forward, skipping the morrow
envy
and yesterdays memories, to start from a blank check, what don't
jump!
Didn't
got enough stocks – still expecting to birth my jackpot and it's
overdue
9
months became 9 years and still no happy ending. So what else is
lending?
Get
off or ense, I dispense some glance of third parties impaired stance
what
moral-mortified some hard-boiled egg-shells, break the mouth-full
jaws
of a shark merged with a clown. It was horrible! Just like
Vizzerdrix;
and
I was just out of netflicks to give a damn on my Pacman turned to
baguette.
Bistro's
are so multo bene when they serve pizza; while buy-in the coffee
from
the washing machine and expecting it be ice-cold! I was old enough
to
know, how to scold some embroiled emboldened tensions at your tenants
expense,
for their there too much elephant and too little ant...
Sunday, September 23, 2018
Migraine
Mig's
rained down fire from Heaven; Hell turned out accommodating and
unleashed its fury; migrating into cold fusion state I auspices my
acknowledgments, envisioning a date with a harpy dressed like a Gypsy
queen and smelling of Mojito's and bubblegum. My ear-drums played a
tune I last heard in Hotel California, what brought back memories I
soon forgot to despair...
This
succubus was quite entertaining, taming my under-tale thoughts of
lonely holiness into hardened insatiable lust and want to dominate
and own. On my own I was one with the pain; thrilled about my
intolerable weakness and amusing ignorance. Didn't know which truth
or dare should I first pay my homage, with a little of attention.
Into the abyss was a great fall making me reach...
It
felt like glimpsing cherry petals turn to red maple leaves, while the
spring was still sprouting. And yet is was winter and it came summer
– all consecutively at the same time and meaning… I was the fire
in Heaven and I was the fury in Hell; I was the Earth raped and
scoured; I was the water evaporating in the heat, like good people
shutting up and leaving in terror.
The
harpy was 14 and I was not yet born – stuck in her womb like Jesus
for 3 days; The dismay was killing me senseless. I didn't knot where
to swear the gears what? Triggered by happy thoughts what went sour,
for too much lemon in my Earl Gray. And the limonchello had worn out
and turned to vinegar for too much air and lack of cellars.
Being
too open-minded can't be that good as I first meditated, when opening
up to the solution. The dimsday was dooming the lights as I opened my
eyes. Backward hind-sights there forwarded to the letter and I had to
see the feather what wrote it spat out the bird who wore it… I was
whoring some more til the core of truth was released from the bonds
of tradition.
Transitioning
from frog-mouthed princes who kissed trolls who turned to Ghouls and
Banshees; Bakaraa was played at the Back-gammon table while the dogs
where whistling on almond trees. The pigs there riding Red Riding
Hood who was dressed like Hob-Goblin from Spiderman; I didn't know I
would fam it... All was too much or too little or too nothing to
mention!
Controlling
my breathe, I surmised that I was not asleep. It rained knives and
desperate housewives married to 2 and a half men re-edited to
Letterman show format. I had to vomit but was out of liquid. The ink
was also emptied in my pot and I had to fold my hand. Can't beat
nothing with a full house – was too nice of a guy for that.
Besides, the river changed everything so I wouldn't have liked the
bad beat!
I
was sweating bullets and spouting nonsense – in the end it made a
lot of sense, I didn't see while the words there still worn on my
lips. I felt torn apart and put together, like Picasso's late night
dream. She still seemed to wear me like a necklace and I lost my
count on the third Ave Maria. Te Deum and Gloria there not mentioned,
stationed in between recession and sanctification...
Alas
the maddened glee! It gave up on me and I went to my true north
abandoning south and the west! The east was hospitable enough to
cover my expanses so I had a little chat with Kitsune Hime. We buried
our hearts in Aokigahara and our souls in Nagasaki remenescing the
dead brothers and sisters, who never went home. My knees there
wounded at Tšernobõl and my throat was slit at Salem.
I
was friends with the dirt, while Solsenitsõn was eating it and
Tolstoi was ranting like Nebuchadnezzar. The hunger had left my guts
and I was filled, navel-gazing the sun how it was still shining
inside earth; while molten iron had filled the universe and taken its
place. I still befriended the dirt and was empty – invisible in my
ongoing journey; invincible in my lust to continue the vision. And my
head ache!
Cup of T
Have some cup of tea, but how could that be;
the first thing you need is put second - its thirst!
That's what you deem. No want makes wanton
and spill your coffee. To have your tea, your cup
must be sizable, but empty. Dare the Truth with me!
Have some cup of tea, but how'd you drink bricks?
If your cup is so full that not even your fist fits in;
how to pour some sour and salty thoughts into you!
How to change your taste, if you seek none indeed;
Is it T or B or C - will it follow my lead or return to led.
Have some cup of tea, and don't opt to snicker
hunger while not being hungry, or thirst while not thirsty.
If you're not blind you don't look for glasses;
If you're not old, you don't look for a cane.
Admit to yourself if there is something you'll need...
Have some cup of tea, perplexed shall not be;
don't expect to find awesome or special in here.
Feel free and enjoy - that's all stuff you'll need!
He who hungers and thirsts shall be fulfilled;
others mayday the rued mayhammered glee...
the first thing you need is put second - its thirst!
That's what you deem. No want makes wanton
and spill your coffee. To have your tea, your cup
must be sizable, but empty. Dare the Truth with me!
Have some cup of tea, but how'd you drink bricks?
If your cup is so full that not even your fist fits in;
how to pour some sour and salty thoughts into you!
How to change your taste, if you seek none indeed;
Is it T or B or C - will it follow my lead or return to led.
Have some cup of tea, and don't opt to snicker
hunger while not being hungry, or thirst while not thirsty.
If you're not blind you don't look for glasses;
If you're not old, you don't look for a cane.
Admit to yourself if there is something you'll need...
Have some cup of tea, perplexed shall not be;
don't expect to find awesome or special in here.
Feel free and enjoy - that's all stuff you'll need!
He who hungers and thirsts shall be fulfilled;
others mayday the rued mayhammered glee...
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