„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!

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!

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...

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...

Pending

I'm at my idle place now. Harrowing placid with my eyelids racid of all the possible acids I could have accidentally dented my life in. I must have a sin. Or a nimbus – not 2000. Credit due, pending... depending on my mood, I could write some dope shit about anything, I could care a shout. Or stout my ass to frown on some half-empty glass what got broken. I'm so full of myself – enough to be banking my stocks and sell short. Still not shorty like Tyrion, while holding him in greatest regards! How you pull such a mighty giant role, while being a mouse. That is true greatness, not being big as Godzilla, to be the natural born killer – or Sam Hein or Stan; there's better things to do, then you know you can! I know it's not trending to be like that.

I'm fending some crows away from my carrion carcas what means to canvas Barabas next to Jesus and carry on. No hard feelings, to be leaning too far out of the window, as the train is missing the action. Why did they choose thus? Alas! My mind is abstraction mixed with subordinate feelings extraordinarily dreaming – believing, that men could exert more kindness and true value, than poets could ever fathom! The venue of revenue of a given tenured avenue was endured to menu in some other schedule... credit due! But still, why did they do that?? What has a street-mugger, what a preacher don't got? Just because; common foes, that Jews kill Romans; Romans kill Jews – Jesus asked to love them, so die bitch? IDK… That goes... let's just eat at Joe's and get along, that is better than a throng of bullets in my head or yours!

It scours my thoughts to be betters but for naught - each time we talk with nobody we mean everything and nothing gets exaggerated to unrelated correlated coke-dreams to not know what nobody means. Nobody wants to be somebody, and not just any body, what got tossed under the bus or train, could it be any more plain and simple or is it a pimple. To pimp my mind into an L statue of virtue to spell "Loot" the main root of being evil and rood, the reason money talks and makes us brood to be vile and not good! Revile the vipers who vituperate the operations to ratio the rate of some given treat on stage - calling it HATE. Well, Watergate! Calling it hate, if you show tough love and speak up your mind. Fair use left falling behind...

I get my hinges cringing and be out of fringes. I know I should think outside the box, but that ain't closing office... I'm closing in on my cross-hair, then some asshole crossed my hair with his head-but and I asked him to fuck-off, because giving fucks was not my m.o. I would fuck on if he'd be gone from my box-office. Orifice the shout-outs of stout boy-scouts who don't know how to hangout with their mom and dad is so sad! Having to be called by the phone and are like: "You summoned me!" and it's not even War Craft 2 what gets me so back; gored and blue. I want to marry Peggy-Sue, because of my too small shoe I got stuck in their stew, made out of straw-men and straw-hat what's up doctors and M.D's who should be K.O. for real!!

K.O. is my m.o. hay-oh have some ketchup on your mayo and catch up Ash from HOMM3 my homie and don't burn the fort. That would be nice and good sport. But the retort of Merriam-Websters resort helps me to short your snorting wordings into betters discords you could not believe are possible to be distorting. Sort this thing out to be shorty. Tyrion, the best star of the show, leaving many Lannisters without twinkle of a star to hide their bruised egos; scars. And some lost their hand, or was it the chosen lamb, or some others? I mar the shouts of martyrs on par who haven't been matured to venture into the real life of a singleton so far! It's not so hard to fold, if you're playing it on foreign gold or unreal currency and just a game: "Just saying it!"

When people never mean, when they've never been, then how could they dream or even gleam the feels? Slapping is deemed illegal, but spitting in the face anon style is ok. I think its OP and BS that this confess is more than excess of candid grimoire from the sisters Moira - no larp. not even 3L's or Larry Just I'm worried that justice is not done, then through political correctness the summer is almost gone! There are some hipsters, but no hippies; you can't call people gay, for being happy, cause it means now one thing! Reading "Gay Science", and you already have a sing, birdie? I hole in one you just for peeps; outgun you for the stampede you tried to run on me - fool. Nietzsche is better than laissez faire like vanity fair of a carnival of rust. That doesn't ease my pain but holds me in contempt and in vain – glimpsing your condoms!

In chains and entombed are my thoughts. Like a hairy bitch, who lost his comb and can't show himself to her customers to custard the retards some rewards, what the wardens of virtue could not spar. Spare me some change and your 10 cents to have a peace of your mind. Do you mind? I would be Happy in my Fairy tail! Or am I yanking your bull and you feel only shit? Your broken condoms in barbed wire make me mire that it can't end well what enters so deep and means hell... What business could it otherwise disguise to me, than be disgusted of others lives or some other theme... While not living yourself, shelving others into Dracula – lumped in for Bean! It be outstanding to be chanting shanty's of your enchanting demeanor if it was not haunting latrine's what you do and mean on the supreme leadership of public gossiping and deem.

Can you feel me?

Be nice to me and I got your back;
dis your family and you get me down.
How should a father get you back -
he's not your age nor from the same stack!
I loose my track when I see fams clown -
it's nice to see a dad hang out, like mind-blown...
never had that in my life - that's why it sucks!

Be nice to me and I hear you good;
I could be your partner in crime, do your time...
Just don't dis family, that is seriously uncool;
solve issues in private, don't drag them as junkfood!
Can you feel me on this, feel my skin, that would be fine.
I face nothing I don't have to, I'm like the river Nile;
appreciate what you got, that's the high mood!

Be nice to me and I shall feel your skin;
how you treat others, makes me know what you mean.
If you dis weaklings, to be mine: I know, you're in just for a win.
Your shit is not real, because you'd dis me if I'd fail and whim...
Pettigrew is not grown-up; petty things make me gleam
how your head would look on a spike and that is not mean.
Do me justice and be true to yourself - don't you ever grin!!