So anarchism whets the boat yeah,    then serdjerney cflats its unsone patterns  further undone by layers of speech, so the boat trespasses upon the heftery gaurding the gobby with goonfile, attackiing with blocking?????????????????????

Back to writing the old fashioned poem
I bought a new keyboard but its pressure points
have been altered to fit/programmed into the neurons of my brain


Like a piano that never worked in the first place, but now lives on the screen of some cartoon ******* film as a prop usually benefactory but unlit by love that strategem. so technically this whole keyboard thing is breaking the law.

An edge runcorned by the world of spice
Justice taken to the streets
Amicability forsworn aimlessly
So with no hope of succeeding
Ah, then the ******* touch eh?

Well maybe someone will testify against you system
When they find their belief.

Poonanny dad. Poonanny mum. Poonanny Georgia. Poonanny Christopher. Poonanny gods. Poonanny stranger things the Netflix series. Poonanny humanity. Poonanny.

Rock 'n' roll isn't just about the juice it's about the contempt, the either/or goat herding inhibition that sears through the stratosphere (along electrical cables of the brain) and then is forgotten by it's implicator.

So what does the implicator intend to imply?

That she has no free will. That momentum is fun. That identity is transmutable if seen in such light as delusion.

So what does delusion of the implicator imply?


Oh it's their entire world. it's just noone can accept it, except for the people not accepting it, them even having a really psychic intricate way of thinking.

So maybe these implicators are just considered to have no imagination?

Well I understand, but then there's empathy isn't there, and the system is hardly set up to inspire imagination anyway. So that's questionable.

What of questions and the implicator?


Can you ask questions without free will?


Well, yeah, what else?

And that's where the whole corruption scheme begins to be answered.
It's hashtagthaaaaat!(aaat)!

Boring entitlement to make art,
hijacks creativity
in a funeral car
the procession plays trumpets
a soul stirs
but it's too late

'that sure ain't what I set out to do Rudy, ****** anyone... I mean good Lord... If God would even think of testifying for me.... I just want to get what I want; you know'

'so who did you ****** and why? Just to get what you wanted?'

'a bunch of aliens, and there was a timing on everything that made me uncertain, y'know, spooked, under control.'

'so you did it to be in control?'


'well in the heat of the moment yes, because they were torturing me/had tortured me for locking me up and kept me locked up for the longest time, deprived of many things.'

'was it revenge for taking away your freedom?.

'no because I came to realize they'd take away my freedom away completely for it. It was to regain humanity's and the earths' and it's creatures' freedom. Amen.'

Malnourishment also known as the eaten jaw
by iron bar and fans
      that crowd around
and get    him    

   pushed,
further into demand -

as they do this
they think of little old ladies
who
to
keep their lives
they'd keep safe

but in outer space
there's
no
worthwhile currency
or a dangerous arrogance

i am an object in time and space
(another word for the place is the matrix)
j u s t
some
     where else
where you continually spin out and they want you to totally break down

But they've always rubbed it in our faces
for the equals of us; more ignorance, more oblivious
so much of it subliminally though
that by fighting the system froma baby (Yes I'm christ) i promise you'll become *******.

Well, it's like the AC/DC song goes isn't it?
'It's a lie...and that's the truth.'...

I've always trusted my instincts and that has never been for fun.

but if someone came up to me one day and said, this is your mental prison, this is your soul death, this is your dawdry ******* and at other times **** body then they before i could realise they had a gun even shot me

Well, it depends on who did it and why.
penalised by the justice system mainly
a race track which we all aspire to trundle round a race trac now the sympathy for our kind has gone
and there's just something about cars that always creates discrepancies between perception and technique - which you woud only ever think of in truth as same other, what I consider to be dangerous forms of transport)
but you're long gone mentally
as soon it's been sorted out
your cash flow, direct debit, benefits, council tax housing and all of that.
i always try to grab their attention when coming somewhere new
and even if naivety and friendliness didn't so vindictively differ
am i the one loosing? for trust and counting dollars?

If we're all connected
Why this disparity between inside
And
Inside

And to give medicine only occasionally!
If at all!
It's torture!
Help me!

Juniper irritants heightening below.
the soft and cuddly moves magically as a matter of fact.
blue tack, and absolute obsoletes move in the wya
that people don't even use hamster wheels anymore
while timid dogs, and cats lie feeling bare of their instincts, threatened on the floor.
dutifully lifting their heads to their only owners, like soldiers
but they are monsters. Although I could be hallucinating all of this I think if we don't give our animals exactly what they need then we're all going to be buried alive in coffins. Subtly. or in baracks. or igloos. or we'll all just remain transparent, stuck on the toilet, or happily walking in the woods one day - until some major accident occurs.

In the midst of the ashes, there was a past which occupied a displayo of germatic sattelites,

evergreen, they premptied the revealment of gersau meladiliy.
from their cosmotic discompot encumebnt predominance.

***** upon ***** they drove without dread to the tip of grusome  degradation.

i don't remember the rest of the poem

Traipsing through daisies fields
Today didn't like the look of the clouds.
They were too pastelly
Too unforgiving to the gods

how can we hope to become when time does not stand still?
When we are left not just out of the history books, but even the society we hate.

So many times I've slept with a man and wondered why he handed me money. I realize at this moment, although it will be viewed stereotypically; just by virtue of it being my realisation; is that those weren't nice men, pretending to care about me. The proof is all around us. they did it so they could toy with my mind, they do it to make me do explicitly ****** things in my own room in hospital, that I wouldn't usually do. And, something (I was completely oblivious to at the time, (and am still oblivious to when not doped on ritalin clozapine and diazepam), Furthermore there are those involved in order to be a stop gap for the numbering system of human beings. Because if there's no change n the circumstances of slavery - it continues out and evenly, becoming an understandable reality. Which is when - basically - business goes down for these men, and they loose interest. and I should add become more sadistic.

So how do we call them out on it - when they're the ones in charge - ? we be ourselves, degrade ourselves, love those who love you and pray earnestly every day.




Amen humanity...Amen Lord!

As they perpetually spawn inside us
i suppose the music is a byside
a well crafted distraction, that keeps those reaching out for autonomy
to soon be tricked by and settle for
a balance isn't made of hidden control, and resistance
it;s made of in our face rock 'm' roll lets do damage to these controllers who hide. Amen God.

So anarchism whets the boat yeah,    then serdjerney cflats its unsone patterns  further undone by layers of speech, so the boat trespasses upon the heftery gaurding the gobby with goonfile, attackiing with blocking????????????????????? thaaaaaaaaaat)(at)

Preemptive askance the a(l(u)minationcrashed under deceived by craukflakes o'clock

Tooth seems to be  a popular word in poetry
like there was someone called ruth who was a goddess
like some in ethnic tribes,
roofers build tipis
like roofies can make the heat blunder
It's usually just there to represent the word root though.
Ah, I see.

At the brink of expulsion
There is a disdain
Which covers the cut

From excrement to excellence.

Amen God.

petitions for Trasaclandism
swimming in the wee and rock waters
giving nothing that a nobody would want to watch
noone that she new though.

My heart is like a cabbage
all soggy and curved
with some remaining sorry crunchy bits.

when someone kisses me, i fight them
in a bops left caramel escape

and if someone tries to hold me for too long
I stop liking that person

so I guess I can be forgiven for choosing drugs over serious relationships.

Explicit vision of fruitless gods
Started with giant amphibian frogs
Galloping steeds throughout the land
Couldn't contain the truth in their hands

And so the gods made other plans
To inhabit the nooks and crannies
Of altruism, floating through the upper
Lands
Until they could be altruistic

Poonanny gods and Godesses everywhere
Amen Lord

Ignorant achoos perplexing the absent perspex
When I went to prison they stole my nice dress
Afrobeats can be good, the selection on right now is
Though I just rather naively as so latently it's for a purpose though.

Or maybe I could be realizing it again.
Oh thaaaaaaaat.t
It's not for a purpose then is it?0

Come on, spill the beans!

Dear God, sometimes subtlety can be a problem,.because it allows for all.kinds of nooks and crannies to be exploited. But then with freedom it can just flow of your hand and on the streets you haven't got to worry about labeling yourself. Or neither something like when freedom is suddenly retracted

The cratsmanship of the body
trecangles ebelie gordon(gun)
ph 10.10.8,140305-8...2014...5679857601...111
cerebling like a gatteux
with cake crumbling off the sodes
fixed to you r chest ike hard boiled agg shells
that get stuck on the egg
infilatrated I was once more, by the confucion/distinction
between God and power
and the suits thar they wear
to cover up all their other little atoms.


feasting you might call it
as the gawping , like degradation
was the sarangetti stands tall


What can I say to make my words sound more profound oh God help me with this for poo ever nanny.


the light in the dark room shone normally, not a blink from passers by, as one tends to look up at dark windows more than light ones in the evening; Then at night vice versa. I guess we all look for what we want. Whether that be in the form of justice, exercise, socializing, or even understanding.

There's no particular motive for wandering past and looking up at strangers windows. i wouldn't say it was even curiosity as it's sort of done out of habit.

I feel terribly for animals stuck in zoos. NO freedom, constant frustration. And the so called zooo staff, as psychic aliens, knowing exactly what they feel, and savouring every moment of their torture. If they're on tv you might even here them say 'sorry' but it'll be out of context, and they wont mean it.

I can hear one of my rapists voice outside my door, there's not much choice I have in my attitude towards him, because all of the human information has been drowned out of me in an alien way. hello back to you you cheating ****.

Floating respendently
Looking for the right angle
Masochism melts as it sneezes in the moody growler
Of non concentric brawl

A beware of infinitude
Not taken seriously by a pint glass
Scornful when normally distant look upon her
Imposter case
Thatatat.
Not a case of imposter syndrome.

As a writer you are supposed to look at a computer keyboard and feel inspired. there's a piece of writing in me waiting to burst out today but there's too much manipulation against my creative instincts going on. Amen God.

a group of bakers
lest they go down the ***** wonka shoot
may argue that , the fairest... of all bread<i>winners/i> is
can we be complacent in order of her/his/them/they/theirs place.

i, however, discard the notion of ownership all together and tell them politely that they've invented their own myths and they're coming true.
in WHICH CASE...THEY ARE, AT RISK, YES.

When the waterfall crashes
there'll be no more nappies
factually there's a catacomb of undescribed
indescrepancies
alot of jolting, perifery and lung alax


and apart from the toy towers
dread barges in, ingidly
to the georgia of Charleston
setting adrift the down syndrome of set downs upon maintenance ponds

elsewhere.patterns disappear.

Amen Ravi.

Delusion is like a Summer spent in a mental hospital
eating crap
and seeing the sin in the same small place over adn over again
It's like never having been traveling
and then through some ill fitting prostitution career
believing ther's a load of decent men who want to take you on holiday
It's about time ans=d space. It's about feeling the need to define your realty versus making a better life.
It's about believing people who are not who they are, when they speak, believing every word they say or hint they drop you.
it's about not needing safety from your own mind.
but more from clever people who see through your attempts at magic.
It's continuing the writing even though you suspect every letter is delusional.
it''s about being fascinated by everything, just not everyone.
Because those are the people who made you clinically delusional, and who accuse you of being delusional still.

sitting in a car park
with my father
my legs half dangling out the car
half questioning him
because they were half in the outside world
of his own space

I rebuked all professional qualities
of a schizophrenic

to ask the **** question

why can't I go with mum
to see chris in the mental hospital?
'I've been in mental hospitals before'
'yeah but this is different he exclaimed in a flat tone

And it was because I didn't care about my brother anymore
And about secret guilt, I had the same kind for the rest of my family.
I mean i labelled them my family,
but there was something off about our connection.

Apparantley that's normal though.
but it says in the bible honour thy mother and father

So supposed they haven't honoured me as a child or whatever
Does that still mean, if I'm not going out of my way, which I never was for them, because they weren't for me, that I should still honour them? Yes it does. Amen Lord and Jesus. Thank you.

To know what erudition is
it to chauffer a led of clothes into a basket.

And with they don't played fool
there will not be no picnic in the park
of functionally wrong hospitals, or imaginary power

pOOyEs I'M talKiNg T you GODs, is IT irRItating. Oh yeah, you can reads minds ca;t you?
Oh yes, thaTS Why I came here isn't it? long lost from (f they're still alive) still griveing family.

Amen.

******* not included
In treasury treasts of treasonic trests.
Choose they say choose but we can't identify a squeeze of moral out of you
Wo we assume you're retards who think we have to ***** in a coffin to die.
Chess mate! Chess mate! The loonatics are running the zoo again. While my therapist warbles her goodbyes and hellos with just one minute in between. I grab her rust in a desperate act to counteract the loneliness. Just to confirm I'm in the right track for securing my mental health and also charm. As we are all being filmed. *****. Poonanny Lord God Jesus. Love from Amy stares.

At times i fee like
technology is all that there is
and ruefulness over the stratosphere,  ******* my memory into the sky
leads the adverts on to bugging me even more.
How do you discern between a quiet benevolent calm?
And one that's going to sneak up on you with a gutless, racist roar....?
There are no definite patterns,
Science is nothing but maths.
And maths is nothing but an art form,
So it' just basic that magic is connected to art
whatever you love is magical for you
science fo a lot of people then.

Well, if you saw science as an art form
and not a means to an end
you may start to find the magic of science too

but if you believe science IS on it's own
well, there's plenty of evidence for that being peoples' opinion
but if you don't believe in fate, then you are someone who strictly doesn't believe in fate
therefore fashioning concepts artistically that support the idea of intervening elements if science... makes progress,.... and then there needs be no belief in science. Just another reason to take evidence from science s a factual practice when really it's so complicated not to have elements of magic?

Trepidation courts the ruffles of your back,
carouseling your bleeding spine
whereas - bengal has tigers -
you have fur.

i love you like my life
And I love my life on drugs alot

....a chaotics promise,
an open secret,
a kleenex encumbrance signed by the others

scary movies, altitudes of atitude, as what has been becomes a burden once more
we both feel the boredom setting in
but I dont say because usually I have no other place to go

I belong with you, and you only.
Overstaying my welcome is
an apology for my wandering.

poonanny God.

The robotics trace underwent alsali/eene
Tricking dawn fetishes through necessary unnecessary ******
As concentration is blinded and the truth is seen as serum again. Amen God.

Pesdophilia is a wildly, beastish, zesty if you want to call it monstrous, widely given label to anyone and everything when a child gets ***** or goes missing. Favoritism in the house becomes suspect, and according to TV programmes if they don't go missing or are 'just' *****, the child isn't listened to either. Because chances are, they already had a Freudian complex in the first place.....which can't be downplayed.
And when in violent families, childrens social workers are usually all aliens walking around pretending to be a human.
And I should add there's a lot of conspiracy theories about children going missing as they've been abducted by aliens. And then keep them confused. Poonanny God. Do I don't know what the **** that book by Olaf Stapleton is about. More controversy he was trying to invoke for the future I expect. So the very real aliens, who I'm trying to fully expose, can make a certain escape.

There once wa a season, and it was long and musty.
No rugs laid on my carpet,
I looked at the result minimalistically.

when a cats corpse dries up
and it's stiffness doesn't startles you
well taking pride in not being shocked  it would be
would be normal.

So ong as it fitted into a world that wasn't just a dream, at least the memory of the event afterwards taking place in a dream.

Because the harshness of those memories in a dream, are plainly unworkable.

All  I remember is big Emmanuel.


saying on the way to the - next -
hospital 'I know the truth'.

My ego is ragin
my parents gave me nothing to believe in
this is a season
a season for more belittling
a scene for more work fitting
an event for superstition
a season for reading
poonanny Lord God on high...

I don't know if I am dyslexic or not, but at times it seems and if I could still feel - feels like patterns are the only thing i can understand.

Not to abhor a prenatal sentiment, but that screeching in the background is it heard by everybody?

And the stream of gasping saute prognosis that comes flying through every door and bounncing off every wall,


well, my choices with ergards to that; are either judge it or don't.


but my own inner personal gain is overlooked




so noone wants to play, the tvs only occasionally entertaining, and i'm trapped in a dream with this black girl Naomi following me around who seems to acutely be the only non Nigerian black woman, (although if she reads this that could change) who was forced to apologise to me by questioning my eyesight on arrival at my current abode. Well, well, well, what a lengthy encounter  we had  considering that with what's now just gone yesterday. No coincidence as it's all coordinated  and the landscape is what the landscape is. Not African in other words. But post Nigerian.

Oh and, it looks like Africa was overlooked, again, while they were looking for my phone that I put to be charged (again) in the office...

It might sound a little trite to say so
But the tiniest specs
Keep on appearing to me
Might I add without guise
But always unexpected
As if to say to the largeness of the world
Hey, back off!

Is it a gene gone wrong?
Maybe saying the wrong words to Grandma in the care home last time I saw her?
Is it a monopoly of aliens battling for my limbs?
An august heat held too tightly to the chest?
Concentric combustion?

No it's more like a love I don't want
An essential island foregone to itself by what it makes of itself.
It's an onion.
A gesture that's been held up by the victorious who pretend.
It's the changing fractions which wear and tear over time
But never wreck the whole pictures.

Secrets must be born out of privacy
And a little trust from that he alchemic
(I will grow in my knowledge of magic)
And learning to hate everyone you come into contact with
As a true legal (not legacy) reflection of whether they're honest or not.
To make the bluebells put their heads up
For the budlia to be grumpy at the sensitivity of butterflies
For the crocodile to escape fate


Amen God

Artists rumble and weight out the time
It takes to write the appropriate rhyme
Unless it is forgotten in a sea of smoke
Where towers and buildings they wished
Were a joke

Trap the embjambment, the pauper and the prince
A release it would be if he could just sink
Into his own thoughts
Where thus far only thugs dwell
Thrown out from the concept of peace and outcry

For safety he ***** instead of seeks
But a wrinkling meekness is still up on his
Cheeks

Where when he is cheeky he points to the crowd
But the singular ugliness in front of him
Is that which was vowed
And to which he is not allowed

The more he is silent
The more the cut off point arrives
There to disrobe him
And make his father proud

But a sure death lies in it
Where fathomed first turns blue
Is as clueless as the first spring bird
Hopping about on a city scene

But I've seen those cemeteries
And Ive felt their vibrations that that that that that that
And if there's not people alive in them
Then they're just animations

Which I highly doubt
As I see holograms everywhere
And they contain meaning
Even if it's just to scare

But dust arrives justly
In the evening
Where waiting on hand and foot
Another group of seagulls have learnt to sing

And carrying on as weavers they out share
Their grenades, parachutes, and worn out trousers
Just on the look out
For all this foul stuff.