Wanted Poster aka What Girls do you Fuck with?

 Wanted, one Crazy Ass Yandere Bitch of the Overlord/Black Lagoon type

who could possess my time and space with all the attention and fucks I could give.

Preferably a Wiccan Satanist -- no Christians Pastors daughters please, thank you! --

Offering a cool deranged sassy former theology student, who likes to juggle

8 personalities with 3 or 4 different filosophical schools of thought, while

not being able to even do his own dishes or room, without being told, while living

at Hotel Mom, for security guards can't afford on minimum wage much anything...

Not that I mind though, because I botched my degree to have that kind of life! Don't ask...

Mostly play Diablo 3 or HOMM3 etc. and write cringy Christian Contemporary Poetry

gloating about like Nietzsches warthog. Somebody has to be the silent contemptor 

(Dostojevsky, Evil Spirits)  Looking for a devil in human clothing, to do my Sons of Skeua

cosplay. If you have a sense of humor like Black Butler and want to cast your shadow into me; 

are into bondage, don't mind about disrespecting men and making them wearing maidoutfits and neckbelts. You're my kind  of a girl!! I would give more than 2 infinite fucks to find such a girl to worship the ground' under Her bootheels. Who wants to let the dog out? Any takers! 

Elevator Speech

 Once upon a time, there was a great actor

He was called Johnny Depp, and  he had

just like the Fantastic Four Johnny lost

all pretence of marbles and sanity --

when he told his Fuck You to Balkan!!

Nowhere near, has an actor told Hollywood

to fuck himself, because he only likes the good salary.

Not the possible morals or social studies

they could false imprint on the show, to make more money.

I thought I fell off my rocker then I watched it in awe.

It took me mny decades to even realize the genius behind... 

How much balls it takes to admit, that you got no soul

and you are there only for the paycheck. Such honesty!!

And sadly, that honesty was but a play on the screen...

What does it say about our brave New York Times defecating  on the bed of Lancaster?

How to write good social poetry? aka Moral Bankruptcy sells the best!!

 Nothing to hide and nothing to say

then the sheep walk on nothing

they'd get over the bridge safe...

Alas the Big Meany Ulterior Motivator

Don't say anything don't mean anything

like Lao Tsu and Sun Tsu once sat down

just keep enough rope hanging around the tree

some poor Mockingbird will try to pass through

Less mind, well -- no mind, is better than anyone could abide!

Overthinking is the devil under the rug and our scrutiny

whatever could little red riding hood read out loud

then the BB Wolf becomes homie rap star.

Listen to New York Ambient noises moisturing your hybris

with Agni Sutra and the Times shall write a play by itself.

Nothing is more aluring, then a roadkill in Bamby's eyes

mirroring in another Deranged Modiglianis canvas.

People love shadenfreude. The gasp of fresh air after the play::

"Wow! At least I don't have a crayon up my brain to be this fucked up!!"

Watching Homer O.J Simpson it out, redeems many sins and sorrows.

At the very least I don't fuck up like that! No Dostojevsky's Evil Spirit in here.

The best video game I ever played was "There is no game" 

The same is with writing poetry. Have something to say --

And then don't say it!! Hint at it like Nietzsche spoke through 

Zarathustra. Make people reason with your meaning like Tanya Degurechaff

Why would you even bother writing a book, then there are good followers

and Ghoswriters in a shellshocked frenzy dying to tell your Gospel to others?

Because they there banking on your stock first and thus deserve to sit left-right

I don't care about the sitting oder. What is there to sit by, if you throw the table?

Moral Bankruptcy has always sold the best, because you can see the writing on the wall

and have a drink on the Full House. It's not the All You folks, who gonna pay the piper...

Fire sales make people rich on filth. Smut-salesmen always prosper, for they don't un out

of stuff to distribute and distill. Diluting the value, until it becomes worthless and saltless.

Why is it that rotting is so sickly sweet to taste and smell? Because otherwise you would say nay!!

Why is preventing it so salty and watery to the eyes? Deniers have always be called cockblockers.

If you think that marriage is like socker, because you can score and have goaly's in both of them

is it any wonder, then the catfish starts rotting in the head first blowing the minds of all gawkers...

How much would you pay, to see your immortal Soul in Hell? You don't understand the question,

because you there found knicking on Heavens door and peeping through the key hole, whether

or not Jesus is fucking Christ!! If your own life don't tell the tale, I don't know what rabbithole

of a Marilyn Alice did you expect to overthrow Deus ex Machina, once upon a time you're Christian.

A bitch never questions her pimps morals nor the clients she has to serve. The same is about 

writing poetry. Your only question is: "Shall we begin?" "How do you want it -- ass or pussy, 

or in thy mouth!" or something else along that thin red line. How can you mind about opinions

which are as frequent as asses and molasses, then you have a shit-detail to go through for your daddy?

Wow! I guess you got nothing to say, if your poetry doesn't get this upclose and personal

like a succubus giving you the Final Mass and gentle nudge in the right direction.

Rainy days and thunderstorms around Castle Frankenstein are more elaborate and intriguing

than nice calm sunny meadow banquets there nothing is aloof and all is well in the Shire...

The molested theology student (meme)

 Once upon a time, there was a theology student, only 14 years old boy, who excelled greatly in his congregation. Whenever he read the bible, it was as though Jesus Himself was preaching it. Then this boy enrolled, he saw that all the women had big breasts and there crminally blond, and all the boys there shrewd as John Wick shooting from the hip or killing flies with the pencil. The boy was in shock and awe and tried to wrap his head around so much prowess in the arts of being a Spiritual Warrior. How much he ever tried, he could never develop breastmusckles as big or thighs as thick as the women, nor could he be as cantankerous in showing off his mad skills like the boys did. He always seemed to drop the ball and miss the spot, then trying to juggle 7 running chainsaws on top of his head. So naturally many tried to evade him, lest to be hit by those falling chainsaws he dropped. One day he asked for a couple for help. The leading Criminally blond Chick Cocker Twin-Tails Ella and his boyfriend Doug Balthazar Markquitsall. "Kind sirs, how is it, that you do so well, while I seem to drop the ball all the time?" 

Doug smirked to Ella: "i'm so happy, you came to the right place to ask that question!"

Ella glared back jestingly: "We're just here to help you out, friend!"'

Doug: "We just fuck around the clock!!"

Ella: "And we don't give two half-fucks of rats ass about who's watching it..."'

Doug: "Its only their fault, if they don't get the awesome powers bestowed upon us by Lord Jesus Christ!"

'The boy was eager to learn the way, to be also this awesome in Lord Jesus Christ. After all, this was the very reason, he enrolled, to protect and serve. To obey the Words and Teachings of the Lord and Savior

"How do I learn to fuck around the clock?" the boy asks.

Doug: "Get into your praying stance, the dog. and I will fuck you behind, while Ella will fuck you infront!"

"I never heard of such a praying stance before!" murmured the boy perplexed.

"Trust ne! reassured Doug "This is just lip- and ass-service to the Lord!!" emphasized Ella.

Doug: "You'll be fucking around in no time and the power of Lord Jesus Christ will exalt itself upon yours truly!" 

The boy got into the position and got fucked in the ass and the mouth. The more he fucked the larger his thighs and breasts grew until he reminded a futanari and not the boy he once was. Also one half of his hear was black and the other half was white one eye ws indigo-blue and the other one opal green. He gained so much, but he broke his spine in the process and had to move by wheelchair to support those enormous breasts of G-cup with his 14 year old body. The peers there nowhere to be seen, as the boy was judged for his transcressions against the School of thought he had enrolled. Nobody even knew they had ever been a part of this establishment. The boy was expelled both from his school and his schurch having to backpedal his wheelchair on the cold empty streets to buy some cheap fucks from petty pedestrians and bystanders but noone would give him much ado about.  If he's not dead yet, he is pedaling the red light district of NyRock City to this day unhappily everafter... The End. 

Walgekaaren goes to Hollywood

 

No August leader wants to May-day in September;

Wake me up, when its November, for the Holy Days.

So I could dismember all, who remember to membrain

the Hentai do them stains and gentile.

Encourage equitable representations of spreadsheets

and white fleets behind the moon, in their bleak haven

of “Wreak Craven's” The Wee is on your knees, asking

for a parlaiz vouz espirit!

Hire a white knight to play through all the Life's plights.

Side-notes nodded their empty heads, to be read behind

the red lines of an Iron Curtain – I spy with my Ozbourn

Ultimatum, how Rudolf Spielmann got cancer and mutated...

To Hydra and back again, to fight Cpt. America, who denied

everything, what is to know about the Holocaust. He thought,

that others suffered likewise, thus a closet-nazi!!

The case was closed and went out cold; there there – no beautiful details in there.

“You my heart, you my soul!” “Yo-Ho-Ho and modernist talk-no-jutsu”

Depp out of the nine gates of Hell; Jim Crow escalated for a belated Oz-cur.

“Was möch; ich möch; du möchst. Alles Klar Walge Klaar? The White apple,

who bit a mouth-heel and couldn't spit it too far....

Mocking on Heavens door, as all the Jacobite's are climbing the ladder;

Wass Herret doch Nein, Wer nicht Zei dass Licht. Kein Gedicht – viel leight richt

deschlicht den Wicht du Richst. The old Prophet druncated the youngling,

to bury his old bones, as the altar exploded, with bread and water...

The Night is young on your hips, until your lips weigh heavy like Eli;

on my shoulders I wear parrots to grab a soundbite, and then its Tomorrow.

The next thing, I remember: “Bite my dusty old librum to life, that the Ravens

could escape its folders!” I fold to the last deck of Tarot, checking the balance.

Meneh, Meneh, Lemah Sebahtani, ma bama ba golem šolva.

Not-Israelites trying to speak Her own brew of language

to cosplay Isayah's druncard-tongues. To set sail to Khaz-Modan,

moderate the Aserothian whitewashed tales, of thrown away infant orcs.

Modus Operandi was damned in Mecreverdi, to enlist Giuseppe, for

the Californian Tetris Dream, building Communist Mario Carts;

to handout, that let the R.O.T.T. Out. Who allowed Nagini, to be blown out,

off proportion - “Viper lives matter” Too bad, that car was mute.

Those cars should get seconds, don't they Oz-car? He wasn't as bad as C.A.R.

My furrie's where left into Trunx's old Dragon Ball K.I.T.T. What about it?

E.T. has left the building, while Elvis is rocking the Jail-house Blues brothers.

Could somebody give a rocking chair, to hang in there? In the gallows of Mayhem?

Put the Bling in there... “Noir lives matter” until death do us apart;

retort tojour quell bon heur de jeux endeux detour the Fools Barons Arronian Rhapsody, so cruel; to requiem my farewelled gleams. I gloom for Dr. Doom,

to erect his Presidential Library at the sect of the most High-Antifa celebrant!

My excessive nudity with explicit Conservative pep-talk, alarmed all Left-handed smearmen. Shouts, who recommended to lubricate my aching Spanish shoes

with WelshWiper-Wodka; I hack and slash through my newspapers to find,

like a philosopher hearth-stoned to oblivious martyrs of a ree-poster-boy/girl.

“Who didn't smite the other cheek?” That is here the question. Would the Real Jesus Christ please stand out of the crowd and find Him asap and bring Her Home!

Crawling under my Sofa Creepy V laughing like a hyena against the Northern Lights;

good luck finding any two cents or dimes when the fat bitch ate all the change.

She ate even Obama on the mount of Nobel he went, to make peace offerings.

I'm still venting and circumventing about this Marital problem with this close encounter of the Martian kind. Some aliens beget stranger, than postal on Wounded Knee. Some still remember, what gods to worship on which progressive account...

“I want Everything and Onee in two open palms.” The sword and the steward

shall eat all those broken bones, who wet the blackboard. Some children

should not be taught to laugh at bald men, for the bear is already waiting.

And the Daily Prophet shall go on, while the Skeeter's are writing Sermons.

Rashomon was mouth-washing their hogs and hot-dogs; Judge Dredd

once said: “You might wanna not be caught alive!” to a woman,

and was immediately accused of rape-mongering. It is so hard

to be a Alfa-Cojones-Muchacho to serve the servants of God.

Could it be that Omega is betters than Alfa-Centauri?

Alfa and Omega disputed, could a woman fall in love

with the Devil. Most said nay, but some agreed:

“If God Will Hunting's, it be Good!”

Douse the flames

 

As you descend into my lair, abandon all hope;

as I wash away your tears, forsake thy name and face.

Such honour dost hold no place – douse thy candle-lit

hearth and wallow in shame. For there is no scope

to oversee the wast Hellish ocean, frozen in despair:

Douse the flames and be no more, than insanity forebodes.

As you ascend to Heaven be sure, that He is faithful and True;

those who have Righteousness at their wings and Truthfulness at their waist,

having Peace at your heels and Godspeed to time the pace;

those will not relent nor leave behind a single carrion

to smoulder nor eye to pluck or pick timbers from disgrace.

Their middle name is in Prudence and Surname shall not go to waste.

As you descend into my lair, remember the guilt you there dripping on;

as your mouth and thine lips there heavy of the fat and blood of the Rams.

Those, of not your cattle, whom you didn't buy from the markets come;

drunken their came and saw the writings on the wall underscored,

as you broke them while fornicating on the stars and stripes, on Avery shores.

All your counsellors are drunkards and serve their own Credence bores.

As you ascend to Heaven, the Holy of Holies is having his field-day.

None, who do wickedness, shall see that to overcome its terrors;

How terrible indeed is the Magnificence and Splendour of God All-Mighty Ay!

He quenched his sword in the blood of the false prophets; smiting his shield

in the face of the false witnesses and corrupt priests, who brought alien flames

onto His realm and in front of His presence. Give fealty and sway!!

Before and After

 Before you exalt, confess; before you praise, mourn.

For life's not about, who plays better chess;

some nuts play poker on the pool-table in bliss,

others shadowbox in the cemetery in duress.

Nobody on Heaven and Earth was born,

like a star, to rise even higher - God bless!

Don't you know: Stars shall fall and kingdoms falter,

lords and ladies loose their crown.

So don't be haughty for the divine scorn;

raise your standards and lift up the sky!

You are the pillar, on which the Heavens are bestowed;

don't you know, ye gods, while drawing your last - Bow

For your soul is from God and not your own.