God is the coin of a random flip.
A key is found,  a child dies.

We can prey to the wind that then
collapses our house like a loose
card house falling.

But when we want the voice of reason  
it’s only your inner thoughts that reply.

And we can’t hold ourselves responsible for the insanity of others Ill reflections.

Mirages of mental degradation.
We are our only a reflection,
Of self.

Humanities selfishness,
not the corruption of worshiping
weakness.

the degradation of morals
sidetracked by delusion..

Whispers can cause more harm than
syllables screamed upon the world
for all to  gather in meaning.

For a whisper is a snake 🐍 wisping
through the subconscious of others,
poisoning the attitudes of the many.

Where a raised wording,  a syllable of frustration holds no cloak or dagger.

Just words reverberating  what was
meant to be heard.

Never trust unheard wording,
rather the voice of what was
said around all.

I cleaved a branch of thought, whittled it till it played a lullaby in my subconscious.

Then set it aflame, my ideas motioned
upon it like a moth to a matchstick
burning slowly.

My cognitive wisps collecting on the coldness of my skull, like graffiti,
ideas stained the pearl whiteness.

Is a thought a realisation of life.  But when a  01010100 01101000 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 01110100 00100000 00001010
Makes sense more than the reflection.  Is cognitive realisation upon what’s the principal of intelligence. Are we all just a delict of numerous numbers and words meaning the same but lost in translation.

If you don’t like me,
“I don’t care”
If you hate me,
“Negativity on you”

If your my friend,
“Time isn’t an obstacle”
If you love me,
“I’ll love you till my last breath”

If life is choices, then I’d rather
Keep my positivity for the ones
Who love me.

My friends who are my
forever mates, no matter
the time that passes.

A mates a mate forever..
And my love for my wife and kids
Will never wither just get stronger
With every sunset & sunrise 💕

We are the wonders of consciousness,
a fluctuation of  thought and reflection.

A kaleidoscope of various wonderments.

Be the idea of change, that makes
the world one smile better.

If you realise that birth is just
scratches on paper, and fewer
lines scratched on stone.

When you pass. Reflect that your
epilogue of living a meaningfulness
life to its fullest.

Than just a few words
on stone.. R.I.P

We can not outrun a donut rolling downward..
That’s why losing weight is an uphill struggle.

But donuts can’t run up a hill, only fall behind.

If we can’t stop them putting there
foot in the door, how can we stop
them from sleeping in our beds and
telling us what we can do..

An invasion isn’t bullets it’s sleeping
while they lock us out of our heritage,
and the identity that makes us British
no matter our religion or colour.

Millions died so that the few could
live  the way we do,
but let in the illegal fragmentation.
Its breaking the cohesion of the colours
that the UK is great..

We aren’t one, we are the many.
But when those who don’t believe
in the many, only the singular,  dilute our shores, there isn’t a mixture of cohesion.

Just a bacteria of invading ideas that
no longer make us a United  kingdom of ideas and cohesion, but a disenchanted reflection of conflicted cohesion that doesn’t want to mix.

But to be discombobulated from
the reality of those who meld for the Benefit of all. We are a universal melting *** of culture and thought that rises us above ourselves..

But there are those who think this is the undeniable falseness.
We are more than the invasion
of cohesion. We are a people of many
that will outlive the degradation
of I’ll given waves that wash upon our shores uninvited..

Words can be toxic, violating
the essence of syllables that
are spoken out of context.  

We must never let the poison
of others uneducated wordings  
seep into the veins of positivity.

For words have the power to sway
the cognitive reflections of what is perceived. Thought and logic,
must prevail beyond the waves of negativity.

And we must drown out the deception  
of what may swallow  us beneath the fragility of our life.

We are more than others fears
or repetitive negativity,
we are life, light, we are the columniation
of never backing down  beneath the reflection of others collective negativity..

How do we ponder the process of
a thought, a simplistic drop,
collectively yearning to join
cognitive reflections of said evaporation.  

2gether they are stronger in there capacity
to carry the weight, that as singularly
Can not hold continuity.
But when thoughts  coalescence
into a force of nature,
it can move the unmovable.

Or as water formed in conflicting
interests. A singular cognitive word
Can conflict in reason, one can
evaporate in another’s reasoning.  
Then there is the frozen logic that
Can be cold in reasoning.
We can hold fluidic reflections
But some will always find away
To fall between the cracks

H2O is the thought that we must
Be one but have opinions that can
Change like the metaphors of water.
The same, but in diffrent stages
Of reasoning they can mean similar
Droplets of metaphysical meaning.
We are one droplet, but different
Same pool but cognitively similar

To those who’s voices enclose them in a tomb of closet silence.
Where we can look outward but breath
ever so deeply.

Yearning to clasp on to the words
of others but we sit static and hold our hands outward.

But realise that sometimes no matter
our yearning we grasp upon our own thoughts looking inward.

I’m me, I’m myself, I can look outward
but existentially I’ll delve inward
looking upon my own worth.

My realistic version of what
I’m to become.
My past may be scared,
deeply penetrated , never showing
the depth of my sorrow for I only smile.

Fragmented within my inner depths.
Waves may look placid.
But there are only fragmentation
symmetry of delusions.

We are all fractured, but never showing anything but perfection.
Even though we are just cracks
soothed out.

Decoded underneath softly cleaved decryptions of our showcase  of feelings.

With every bead of sweat,
know that every step makes
a difference on the path of another. M

That every bead of sweat is rehydration
of vocation that even though
the world feels dehydrated.

Every moment of hydration makes
us realise that our steps count.

And the weight of the world m,
never holds us down.
But let’s us reach greater heights
through our struggle.

We never see the rings degraded on the reflection of previous growth.

Hiding the reflection of woeful regression.

Where once was abundance.

Now leafs wilted and tired.

Clinging on the theft of reflection.

Well if you return to a tree that’s rotten inside and make a table.

It’s never going to hold up the fruits
of tomorrow.

Only spoil on the floor of tomorrow.

With regrets that will never bear the
Fruits of fruition. All will be seedless...

To those who’s voices enclose them in a tomb of closet silence.
Where we can look outward but breath
ever so deeply.

Yearning to clasp on to the words
of others but we sit static and hold our hands outward.

But realise that sometimes no matter
our yearning we grasp upon our own thoughts looking inward.

I’m me, I’m myself, I can look outward
but existentially I’ll delve inward
looking upon my own worth.

My realistic version of what
I’m to become.
My past may be scared,
deeply penetrated , never showing
the depth of my sorrow for I only smile.

Fragmented within my inner depths.
Waves may look placid.
But there are only fragmentation
symmetry of delusions.

We are all fractured, but never showing anything but perfection.
Even though we are just cracks
soothed out.

Decoded underneath softly cleaved decryptions of our showcase  of feelings.

Like a work horse,
My body feels worn.
I can’t turn the soil
Of life everyday..

I think I need to be euthanised..
Or at least hibernate
for the weekend.

Painkillers eaten like skittles..

Four varieties of woes..
My body the water,
The pills skimming
Across my Pain threshold..

Hidden disabilities,
a hide an seek of explanations.
You ill today.. sighs..
I’m Forever Sighing,
At the ignorance of others

The poor can bleed while the rich do feed, upon the wars and that they hang around there necks. skulks of the fallen collected never buried but trophy’s of the greed that fed the blood soaked bills that passed from hand to hand. Like bullets passing through flesh, only the poor die, while the rich say more to fed the machine of greed that is never fulfilled until the last drop is cleaved with a bomb or bullet. And the poor due alone and hungry not able to buy a bullet to end there suffering, but enough to end another in a war that all had forgotten.

I’m standing there..
for an external motion of static stillness, motionless like Greek statues.
Realistic but unmoving,
wait also clothed, just saying for clarity.

A motorway of vehicles passing.
Like clogged arteries  trying to
burst through.
But I step up on the linear lines
of slowed motion..

Many slumber upon my wayward steps,
like time flawless and still.
But there is always that one..
singular..  
**** nugget..  
that thinks that there time is vastly
superior to the motion of others.

And like boiling water I scowl upon
they’re collateral reflection.
Glaring upon there misguided vision
Of righteousness.

And know that we would have clasped
upon youth vacating them from the
torture of speeding  mistrust..

Then fate entered the moment,
Where realisations gave birth to
Momentary pauses.
But momemety
Glares given like medusas cleaved
Glaze, but the fraction of woes had past.

And like crossing a river of crocodiles,
We were neither dragged beneath the
Wheels of discontent or over the bonnet
Of teeth lacerating upon ourselves.

We walk another day wary of those
of ill patience. And lesser cognitive
Reliance of the surrounding river
Of tarmac and steel…

A man who has never fallen,
Has no lessons to teach.

For without bruises,
there are no memories
Of what could have been learnt.

Yet one who has fallen,
Will not teach you anything
But the dignity to rise again.

As lessons are only learnt from
The mistakes of past bruises.

They say I slept like  
I was in a shallow grave,
Still warm, but rigid.
eyes glazed over..

I tried to wake myself up,
But as I looked down,
Chills evaporated through me.

I slept like death, my pillow
A grave stone of dreams.
Tucked in beneath the
Shallow entombment
of slumber.

Yet, upon my resurrection,
I feel like I’d never even
Sewn my eyes shut.
As sunlight seers my retina.

I walk into the light, dead on my feet..

We are one laugh
From many tears.

Woeful of greed, she is the serpent
in the sheets, her bite ending happiness
that never saw her misdeed.

Toxicology showed that the bite was swift,
he, d been dead from the pills moments
before that he’d taken that night.

Knowing he couldn’t live with
the debt that she had accumulated,
before kissing her goodnight.

Can you ****** someone twice..

Only within darkness
Can our truth shine
Behold we are the candle

God was the homicide
               that killed a whole world
over his jealousy of man's will not to

bow to his corrupt virtues..

He had planned every life and every sin
                  was his masterful collusion with the devil.

For both were one and all, two sides of a coin
                that always landed on its edge

and no one was the winner.

Definitely, a man or woman who thought they
             were a creation of purity.

But if they were a creation of the beginner,

The end was always a plan to fail like an image,
          it was never perfect but a delusion
of a copy that like its original
            corrupted by ego.

As it knew every breath, but still sent every baby
to the hell of inescapable torment.
                   As it was its plan all along.

That no souls reached its peace,
but the torture that it watched on its throne
           above and sighed,,,

That this was its creation, an image of self...

And it knew it was the master of every moment,
                       and they all  leads to hell.

Even though you could feel it
                     fathomless than your soul.

We glimmered into each other's lagoons,
            and for that finite moment we
swam within the moment of the
   past,
          future,


present.

That even though you were
                bleeding out, we knew that
we were one the blade, you, me


                          us.....

I didn't pull it out,
as I knew id lose you.
               Instead, I shredded my shirt,
    collected it around the wound
that was never meant to be.

I was a killer of many dreams,
            but you were the reality that
awoke me to the possibility of u and me.

As u bled out we wrote a story of what was,
   could have been...

911 was our ring tone of love,

And the ambulance was the church bells
             of our blisful joyning.

When the investigation of our meeting was
                                                                ­    over.
We were together,
the scars of both united of us,
                                that we were meant to be.

But love has many sharp edges and we both
           had a blade under our pillows..

Sweet dreams were  balance on serrated edges

The restrictions upon my self
worth, never the right, write,
              wording, metaphor

of what I wish to show you, u, me.

That even though I don't cry or
                scream, I'm swaying

every sentence I write, right to  
the point that there was never
a chair to hold words.

Instead, I bleed my word, pain
with every stanza that collected
beneath holding me up.

Until I wrote so much that there
wasn't just air beneath me but solid
              meaning wanting to
hold me higher than that which
may make me fall...

She was never the one,
   I wanted her to be...

Giving her all of me,
   never asking for a thank you,

or even do you want me....

All I wanted was the smile,
   the curvature of her lips to
say I like to be with you...

But I couldn't feed the hunger of
  my heart with the maybe's

She was never the one,
   I only fixated on her curvature.

Giving in to my insecurities
  never asking if I was the one.

or even that I mattered to her.

All i wanted was to be loved.
   The curvature of her heart to
mirror the image of what id

         imagined our love to be.

Bee stung in the reality that i
    wasn't her nectar,
more the annoyance that she'd settle
for to sting
I was a ****,
  never the flower....


Only the one swotting her away
awaiting to
    be


stung...

Whoever thought the fly was the prey,

never thought it was a diversion..

The sacrifice of one
                                         for the many...

So many wings flying through threads...

till the spider free falled to the death

                                            of inevitable fate...

Never
expect
anything,
but always give everything.

No one will ever
understand you unless...
You let them swim
in the reality of what
you swim,
or drown
            slowly in..
We all swim in the same ocean.

We had a shelf life,
an existence that we
        played like a broken

fiddle, out of tune...

But now every string is either
          broken, worn beyond its
reproductive rhythm.

Were not creating  vibrant
        versions.

Just broken, collages that
are just not a complexity

        more a diluted, infertile

copy
        broken and substituted

never to be the real thing..

humanity is just a fading shadow,
    fading under the unrelenting

sun of reality....

I could never count stars
  as they were always shooting
point-blank at my forehead...

Hollow point dream killers,
   my eyes open pools of despair..

                       The night shone,
within the white pools,
   non-reflective reproductions of

desperation..

Every sheep that jumped over
that
       hedge...


Face hugging the granite of my
                dried up lake of sweet dreams..

I'm still awake....

Attention to detail,
              always looking as if everything
was motionless.

But you were the equation that
was never composed.

Mismatched from the start,
        I was always motionless
   but you were eloquent.

Never one to play by the rules
                         of others that were around you.

Never listening to the motions
                             that others considered normal.


You were ninety degrees from any normality.
              And through every angle you never

attached to the normality of society.

                  i said yes when you asked if I'd be your confusion...


Were mismatched from the start,
                    but what's the fun
             if we were correct for each other

This is mostly based on the true-ish happenings of
Beth Huges was born in the 80s, her parents
called her Lizzy for short well that would explain
a few things. Her upbringing was more in the 70s
then the 80s. Her parents were new-age hippies but
with the chemical abuse of the 80s.

They were vegans, nothing on land was to be sacrificed
for the fulfillment of their needing only organic substitutes.
  They'd eat from the Ocean as that was the well of life
and always giving and in a continuous replenishment cycle.

Not knowing, she was repeatedly dosed with LSD.
to open the spiritual aspects. But Daddy had a bad trip.
            And wore mummies face saying she was
talking through him.

The cops didn't see that way and vented his body with
                           at least nine new breathing holes...
She was still high as daddies blood spayed over her and
she finger painted on the floor.

She'd lived with relatives but this didn't last long as they
were meat-eaters and she had a vast disdain for all who
murdered and disfigured the life of the land.
   Her auntie was a vegan, so realized the pressures.
   But as she got into her older years having episodes.
of repressed trips. Glaring at the walls and painting in
her own blood.
It hit a moment in her twenties when she caught
her auntie giving head to her new boyfriend..

She was disgusted as she heard her call it "the meat,
             distrustful of her auntie and she'd desecrated
the law of her body, after she pleaded no meat.

While her auntie was being contaminated she put
sleeping tablets into their drinks after the *****
inducing acts had finished and she came out of
the room wiping her mouth.

                     "Here guys I made you a drink,

She played it cool reading a book until they
fell unconscious. She was reprehensible that
                   what was being done was right.
Pulling down his joggers she got some
scissors and grabbed it, momentary she put
it in her mouth, it was soft and she felt a sturring
and gagged... with one fatal swipe she cut it off.
throwing this maggot in the fire, Burn filth...
Her auntie lied there silent, her breath deep.

"How could you,

Even though she has momentarily engaged in
                pleasures of the flesh.

She went into the cupboard and found a cleaner,
             the warning on the side said corrosive
wear gloves.

She stroked her aunties hair and then tipped the
entire bottle down her throat to clean the desecration
from her.
All that was heard was a curdling and then froth
expelling from her nostrils and mouth...
She got a cloth and wiped her mouth, even though
doing this had murdered her auntie, she still loved her.
Now she was clean from the manmade contamination.
    Pure once more, the acid mixed with her stomach acid
creating a pungent smell as it was eating through her side.

A pool of blood and partly digested food bubbled
on the floor, it started to eat through the laminate flooring.
At that very moment, she heard screaming incoming on
her kneeled position.
As she turned she saw the half-naked bleeding profusely boyfriend. In his anger, he never saw the pool of corrosive remanence of his departed girlfriend.

Scissors raised and ready for vengeance, he lurched
losing his balance and landed face down in the
bubbling maroon stench.
Lizy scrambled to her feet, ready to run.
Instead, she screamed as he got up and turned around.
The flesh was peeling off, as he grabbed at his now dissolving
features. The shock was too much as she passed out.
A while had passed and as she awoke she went to move
but the scissors were interred in her hair.
Her scalp felt wet, as she touched the area, red liquid coated
shaking hands. She put her fingers in her mouth and tasted,
yes, it was her blood. she pulled at the scissors and they
wouldn't dislodge as they were firmly embedded in the
laminate flooring.

She had no other option but to yank her hair out,
******* that hurt, she had a blad patch where
the hair follicles had pulled away.
Her head spinning, but as she turned around there
he was still, his face no more just white, with patches
of blood his hands around his throat.

She got a hand towel and threw it over his featureless
remanence, and then saw the disemboweled auntie.
If it wasn't for the middle missing dissolved all over the
floor, you'd think she was sleeping.

Lizzy had to think fast, how could she get out of this?
But it was easy, she'd heard shouting and saw her
auntie come out with scissors, soon after her boyfriend
came out blooded, she saw me and told me to hide.
As I watched he grabbed her dragging her to the
cupboard unscrewing a bottle with his mouth,
then pouring it down the struggling auties mouth
at that moment I ran at him pushing him away as her  
auntie convulsing. We struggled but he was too strong.

It was at that moment he grabbed the scissors lifting me up,
he lost his balance and that the last I remember before waking
up with my hair pinned to the floor by the scissors.

The flashing lights were so bright in the darkness as I was huddling it to the waiting ambulance.
Crocodile tears poured from my eyes.
I told my story, it was worthy of an Oscar.
There on the stage, thanking the gullible audience.

As I walked from the courthouse, tears flowing thanking
everyone for their condolences and wishing me well.

I looked in the mirror as I saw my aunties face,
wearing it like my daddy wore mummies.
sprinting at the policeman at the door I got him
in the neck. Shots echoing out into the dark night.

They must have been alerted by the screaming,
can't people just die quietly? I ran into the night.
Not been found yet, but I kept the scissors.

I go after men now, I'm quite pretty for being so
crazy. I offer them ****** favours for drinks,
I always make sure they have a car, that's a must.
My favourite trick is getting them to drive to a secluded
spot offering them head-on their bonnet.
somewhere we will not be disturbed.

It's amazing how gullible men are when they think with
there meat instead of there brain.
I found this awesome pen that's a tasar, telling them
I'm leaving my signature and number, so if they liked it
they knew where to look if they wanted more fun.
Its quite funny the gurgling scream they make when
you zap their ball bags, they crumble like wet paper.

Kind of pathetic really.  Now we alone and there quite,
snip, snip some do take two chops you know.
Then into the woods or the dirt side of the road.
But I learnt from my first time, cut the femoral attire
in the leg, that way they stay down some did come to
but a was driving away by then I heard their
screams and I smiled. Of to the next town now I think
Driving while its dark is better I sell their belongings
in a pawn shop to raise money the dead cant report
their belongings stolen after all. I just tell them there
my ex. They don't really care about where it came from.

I like my new  hobby, at last count I'd snipped fourteen
of them and I still have my auntie with me I wear her
sometimes just to feel close to her.

Dipping his teabags over her,
                      as she whistled in delight.

Brewing for a while more,
    she could taste them better,

as they'd double-dipped
           for that just-made taste.

You were the cement boots around
my ankles and I would sink beneath
your gaze screaming as I sank to the
                                                  bottom.

I saw the others the ones who failed
your questioning, your mind games
of unconscious action and reaction.

But with me, I screamed in laughter,
as I knew that you'd always let me
drown enough to be conscious of
                       your ever-changing needs.

We were the lime and the sand,
our words the water that would be
mixed together. We would be concrete
           metaphors of each other's needs..

And I found it slightly ***** when you
tried to metaphorically drown me in
                                       your mind.
I always learnt some depth to you the
                         longer you let me drown.

I had a star, my own a mark of who I was,
but it wasn't like the ones in the heavens,
                   never shining bright.

It was on my arm a symbol of who,
                        what I was classed as.

They never thought I was anything.
  I'd fell hard from the heavens,
and
                           now I was in hell..

   My Mother & Father were
smiling at me as if nothing was wrong
as if this was a new normal,
            even as we were separated.

They never cried, but smiled.
Taken to this room, there were a few
of them, I heard the screams,
   saw the smoke billowing from
upon high.

But they just smiled, motioning
silently with their mouths.

                       " We Love You,

I never saw them after that,
   young but not naive.
Hearing rumors before I'd
      been taken from my home.

Even as we left, or shall I say relocated.
Intruders moving in, laughing as we were
taken from our ancestral home.

Generations had grown up moved on,
it was a home of a hundred smiles.
    But now we were just shedding tears
as we  were torn from our foundations
our home.

I see the children lying in the snow,
laid bare, bodies like the bare branches...
  contorted silent.
But at least their tears are silent...
        their pain evaporated like their last breath.

Not like the new arrivals, there's not much space,
  Broken down to useful or not...
      I saw a parent lead away screaming,
     some even shot as the **** of their womb
is taken to the smoking house...

You hear tears, then the wails of why's...
then silence, a silence that makes you *****,
even though you haven't eaten in days,
you're sick to your stomach and cry dry tears...



Rest in peace, my friends....

I was exhausted, frail, and malnutrition
   eating away at me.. I was lead away,
  my friends just looked down as they
knew where I was going I was garbage
to abandoned and reduced to dust.

Hearing the wheels turn, I had laid bare
that this was time, others cried screamed
I just sat there.

   Dying with pride, without giving them
the satisfaction of my tears.
   As we started to burn,
explosions words unheard in a long time.

And the door swung open, melting silhouettes
ran then fell. I was lucky I was at the far end,
Lighty burnt I ran out naked and alone into the
arms of a serviceman who covered me with a
blanket.

His words still in my thoughts every day.

                            "Your safe now child,

I wish you were here, next to me in the moments
before the church bells, we called them that for they
fell ever hour, and when the bells tolled there were
the ones that never got up, silenced as every bell tolled.

But your home sitting in the roust, keeping mother safe,
keeping her from the truth, I still write letters from Robert,
she was her favorite,  we all know that.
                                              But he took a shell to the face....

We wept for five minutes straight, he was the strength between
us but now were the strength between us
                                                              ­          keeping each other safe.

We buried him beneath a bush, we gave him grace.
               then we walked on knowing it wasn't  about him
or us, but those that depended on the messages we carried
like a dove flying to that peaceful place.


We got there before the many fell. we lost one but saved
                 the many that would have been RIP's

but know breath for a moment more,
                               not falling for now in this place

"Dear mum,

Robert is keeping us in order, were not missing a step,
he says don't worry as he'll take a bullet before one of us.
He asked if you could say a prayer, saying a thank you
                            to the Lord for keeping us all safe.

We march on tomorrow to the place they call the tomb,
but dont worry we have Robert
                                        looking over us to keep us safe.

Dear mum, if we don't all come home just know
were with you now.
     And as we take every footstep

                          were one closer to home.

This fella or
                      was it a lass?
  the compelling
         question to ask?

This unique one, with a hoot.

No, it didn't bark
                            or woof or even
meow,
                  or blow bubbles like my fish,
                                  Pop!

It never spoke a word
            or a sentence.

You could speak to it,
  can you understand my
     soft words?
   All you heard back was
                          the hoot.

Was that a yes or a no
                          or a maybe?

short and sweet,
                  or long and soft.
I couldn't tell but I thought and
shrugged my shoulders thinking,

                                   "oh' well,

My name, never mind what's yours?
                         it gave a hoot.  
So I said you look like a hoogle to me?

What's a hoogle you say,
well it's what
     this hoot looks like most of all.

    But really I just made it up.
                           "Shhhh our secret,
                 that's what it is a hoolgle

And you know what it gave out a happy
hoot,
                i think it likes its new name.

But remember if you meet this unique
   one, with a hoot.

No, it didn't bark
                            or woof or even
meow,
                  or blow bubbles like my fish,
                                  Pop!

But it will merrily walk
    and just hoot all-day and did I mention

it hoots in its sleep?
    That's why I'm awake writhing

Never forget the root that fed you,

for no matter the height you attain

remember the earth beneath your feet..

No matter your height,

                       you forget what
    you grew from...


you'll easily fall and no one will hear it.

I was told I had nice ****,
         but they were a tad on

the hairy side...

A Woman can be so judgmental..

they aren't sagging,
                            and yes I may be an A cup,

but anything is more than a waste to my wife..

What made me an atheist!!

I get the question a lot!!

And my reply isn't for the
                               faint-hearted

Giving back in return what the
         the priest gave me but in return.


                            Over the alter,
all you heard from his lips where
             profanities!!!

Oh Jesus,
          ****** it!!

holy mother of god!!

    He took the bread and his ****

drank the wine...

And I thought if a man of the cloth could
           say the lord's name in vain so much
how could there be a lord if

he was blasphemous to such a degree...

I left him tied to the alter, a cross down
his throat... swallowing his faith,
             but his god couldn't save him...

I did the sign of the ******* as I left....

Never be what some one
             wishes you

To be.

Be the genie,
and show
    Them your wishes.

Trust, friendship & empathy.

My dog its name is Gizmo with a capital G, he isn't
very tall and not very long. He's very playful doesn't
always listen to what he's ever told. But it's like his name,
as others have said so. If somethings missing the blame
would always be on him, to this hairball this is just a game.

His favorite season for walks is when autumn comes to call.
The puddles on the floor and the leaves on the ground, all
he wants to do is be playful in the heaps of color and crawl.
Beneath them playing hide and seek, but he is always so
easy to find, following his lead a tail-wagging to and fro.

He never misses a puddle, his hair soaked, and has very
muddy little toes, chasing all the birds, but he's not scary
at all. They fly away squawking and he just looks at me
then runs around again chasing nothing at all. We see
in the distance home letting off the lead, he runs in glee.

Towel now around him, drying him quickly off. As his wetter
than a puddle. Shivering we give him a cuddle, feeling better
he now falls asleep upon his bed. Five minutes of peace before
he gets his energy back, and then a zoomy around the floor,
and then I'm like, has anyone seen my sock?      Gizmo!!

There was a swing that the unhappy
                        people swung upon..

they were most happy when instead
of the too and frowning

It was static,

    They stayed there awhile.

Is it the radio or the silence,
             or the music in your head on repeat
Does that drown the monotony of
                       replayed silence that's
never-ending like the road traveled upon?

But we never question who the hell is driving
                       us to this place that
we never even questioned.

Are we on cruise control
                 lost in our thoughts,
wrapped like a bow around a tree?

Chronology were neither
at the point of no return
                          or a way back.

What's perplexing in the narrative
is that neither can be changed,
                     as were in neither
but the  momentary



      fluctuation of either

Deteriorated configurations that are
neither of consecutive methods
                                             or contorted reflections,
it's upon the eye line of those who look perplexed.

For what is slumped like tired unimportance,
is neither an inflexible road,
for nothing is
               either invariable or contorted
It's just a view that each takes.

                                Me I'm like the reed,
both woven in a paradox
of motions.
For who sees a contortionist
   that's neither of each
                                     or the other.

Riffling upon the aspects of my decisive
                            displacement that catches
nither the truth or the lie.
  
You  may catch the second,
                        or minute,
        but beyond the mirco filaments
that linger between variable glimpse
that pass.

Is more than constructive  tendrils
           of a lifetime of consequential
amendments or defaming the
              consequential understanding
that nothing plays by the rules..

The voice of many is all one. it doesn't matter
the flavor of our skin with coffee,
                      we milk, were caramel.

Were all different tastes but some think
because our tastes are different
that they can throw the cup down
                             crush it under the knee..

We aren't recyclable we may taste different,
                 but doesn't mean you can crush
any of us under afoot
                                 or knee.

were all in this together if one falls, we all fall..