i woke up, i slumbered into waking
and Muhammad's question of consciousness
while Gabriel ***** his ear
hello Taylor: the problem is me:
i can't imagine why all these journalist
would call you concerts safe spaces:
on the 16th of August i was sexually
harassed at your concert
by a bear-******:
i'm not homophobic but i was sexually
harassed by a bear-******:
IC1 or in North America it's called
a Caucasian:
thank you for disclosing that you:
i don't think the little girls heard you:
i think heard you
drinking wine
and talking to cats...
on the 20th of August, a.d.:
maybe you love christ maybe christ unites us all:
but i can't be the one ******* christ's
**** jesus no...
dutifully i collected your wristbands
from your little clone sisters:
clone me clone me
now i realize why women don't
want to reproduce with me:
if my mind were to spill into genes
and i were a great Khan
i would destroy this world with my
offspring
i with be: King Cain...
i would be the Khan Cain!
my father passed on the scarring
from rib to the shoulder blade:
the original story
of this little piggy went to the market:
we gave you people the apple
then we gave you
the bread and wine
i have only a shot of *****
with the added flick off a cigarette...
this is my blood: this is my body:
the blood is ***** and the body is ash...

i was going to write the sequence of
events as rat
of Wembley...
but i covered that: i already know about
where the good toilets are
at club Wembley by turnstile G
with Keith: doing the searching bags
oh so many tampons so many shampoo bottles
so many highlights...

now the thought is punching me:
why women fear to reproduce with me:
this Frankenstein i've become:
smooth over: horror:
originally Pinhead was a woman
and not a man
so Clive the Barking Mind was right:
to create a horror story with a woman:
and now, dear Taylor: your anti-hero
will make a reply and sow his seeds
of ego into the minds of the shadows
of these little girls:
i didn't feel safe: technically
i was sexually-harassed:
my 55 year old lover from Hawaii
clarified that point: so i raised it to a level
reporting it:
but let me tell you:
he told me everything...
he told me everything:
day later he was heading for the Copenhagen
Pride Parade...
he was working in the security industry
in America:
did the Adele with a $40,000 worth of stage:
logistics:
how men talk how men talk
and how covertly hiding the woman
in the humanism of homosexuality:
an understudy:
he felt welcome
i felt a tingle:
so wrong so BI
so BI so artistic i think we artists:
only for the posterity of the C.C.T.V magpie....
the C.C.T.V. magpie the trinity
now complete with ᚺᚢᚷᛁᚾᚾ

H Mn...

    hmm... Mandala of Mendeleyev... hydrogen
and Mn is? hmm... let me check...
Manganese...

   ring of origin: Magneto can't have children
in this universe of Z-men...
i'm a someone who didn't catch the gen-X vipe
someone said the Millennials
and
i came back from your concert
raising the dead
like the death i've become:

reading up on Tȟatȟáŋka Íyotake:
dear Nashville: dearest Lakota... says:
i don't really smoke in the grey haze of
afternoons: smoke smoke wink wink:
but i'm rarely this restless in the afternoon:
but i'm at work
and i need to write like i might be painting:
so i put on my sunglasses
and turn to the bulb of Beelzebub's glare
of pixel neon and strobe of adverts...
one go: all ensoo!
one go one go one stroke one life...

ghost dance movement:
i flew over America
and landed in Polynesia and didn't really
understand the golf courses
on such beautiful citadels
of islands...
i saw such horror: must imply
i was born 3 hours away from Warsaw:
and my Poland is like a liver
and my England is like my tongue
and my Hawaii is like my heart:
but... i can't be there...
come and go but never be
this forge of the forever neglect-          -ed...
accent, or signature: that little        +
well: before i became a Swifty
because Vienna was really challenging with
Islamic           XY... the challenge of a
monotheism with polygamy:
but polygamy can only work within
the confines of polytheism:

i knew i would unearth my deepest concerns
enough time would pass
and i would come to the conclusions
i made in conversation:
newest labor!
if i were in power and had scrutiny on
how humans behave:
i would go pass the tease-and-testament
of the English:
the thing the Latins would abhor
the pedantry of the Saxon-Gaelic no no:
no Anglo-Saxons: the Saxon-Gaelic model
of passing laws feeling guilty and rich
this incubator of innocent until proven guilty:
no! you are guilty until proven innocent!
get away with it this model
of the ring of pedohpiles and homos... insapiens....
i would like to call them retards
but RETARDS ARE PROGRESSIVES!

i'm drinking and the afternoon looks sickly real:
maybe your songs are sweet
but you are sweet
but the rainbow brigade is shuffling my ego
as the joker card among the hearts
and clubs...

she will still need someone to talk to:
i can stomach the 12h differences...
i can't raise her daughter: she won't let me:
Reyla is already her own person:
she's good at organizing people:
i hope she ends up managing the better aspect
of Lahui: ******* polynesian spelling:
too many vowels!

         Ła Ła...        Łu Łu...

they used to write: AŁŁAH: oh oh! hot fire!
it hurts...
because christ explored sexuality
i was asked while being "sexually harassed"
whether i was on any network...
i said hello.poetry
no instagram no no
                     how you just wish to connect
to someone to talk to
no necessarily to have a ****-a-bye-bye-baby...
anti-hero my new favorite song
anti-hero my new favorite song
that's why i'm still wearing the bangle...
boy rich
boy rich              i'm a rich boy
i don't want to leave London:
15th Sept i've been asked to do a private
super special family gathering at Wanstead
London and you Taylor:

17th August i was at a West Ham football
match: strict language... football match...
no: i could have been playing backgammon
because roll of dice
and no mind games with chess...
so much congestion and constipation
of psychology:
drunks dreaming of being lumberjacks
mind you:
question...

your t-shirt...
you're missing a letter...

     who's
     taylor swift
     anyway?
     EW
                            you forgot EUrope...

it's euw.
who?                   Taylor is Taylor is a Freudian tailor.
i wasn't a steward:
this was opera and i became an USHER...
i was an USHER with Scotland 1-on-1...
Glasgow and the story-teller:
ooh: grunch: let the serpent in:
the scared honey-suckle the Eve... well:
Lilith: when you have children you will
be Eve: until you have them
you're the story of Adam and Lilith:
there's Adam and Lilith before Lilith is immersed
in giving birth:
apple my sin of the fetus?
imagine... the fruit of our labors will be a child
and that's the best metaphor we have?
can i eat my child like an apple?
but it's you and me having a conversation
about parasites
and the child and your body...
and i spotted: TWINS X-MEN pregnant women
at your concert exposing the fetuses to
the deaf and sound of your voice...

Odin to Taylor direct:
i sent my son Thor to make your religious base
feel welcome:
the elders agreed we are tired:
there's no superficiality:
agreed...
                      
there is no serpent there is no fruit:
there's just the baby in the womb...
there is no serpent there is not fruit:
there's just the baby in the womb...

let's keep focus: please... please... pretty pretty...
cocktail of parrots...
cocktail of:
those parakeets originated
in Bishops' Park: Fulham:
by the Thames:
where the Omen movie was shot
and the priest was impaled:
lucky you Taylor: you dream about daughters:
i'm shackled to borrowed dreams via
movies...
now those parakeets are just a familiar
with the Essex skies:
maybe i didn't shift the Himalayas into the desert
of Sahara
but i'm pretty sure i moved a volcano
and shot it into the sky...

18th of August was just weird:
Sabbaths are weird:
but that's how Sabbaths begin:
i walked home around 11pm
maybe later...
yes: it was 1am:
i went into a pub
after planning it...
met Greg by chance
at a Foo Fighters gig...
then planned for weeks to meet up with
Alexander: the painter...
well: paint is hard to come by:
can't paint these days
just enough plastic and shark-of-plural...
haven't seen him in 10 years:
i just stormed out
after a drinking and smoking session
and i just stormed out because
i probably saw a way to live and
we could be friends but
as friends aside
and not some crab-bucket mentality:
LOCALS...

Taylor...
there was something else... but i knew this
would become of this poem
i would know what to write
but in the process of writing it
i would forget it
because i'm not a rubric man
and i leave that to your organisational:
typos, stipends... i actually don't have
a word since i already thought of letters
and the sound like EUW...

oh... now i remember:

          ᛗᚢᚾᛁᚾᚾ

some symbolism having to complicate matters
with mater
matter
                        unless that's just an evolutionary
complication of conversation that
there must be a distinction of adding chatter
and bounce to to too...

                  two nights with the blood moon
halved into a peanut butter cookie
while i kneeled:
i'm bear
i'm not ape
i understand homosexuality like
a bear
not like an Islamic and African ape...
i'm a bear-******
two bears meet up in a bar for teenage girls...
they sniff each other's ears...
teenage girls:
the ones i got sexually attracted to:
well...
i did...
so i thought: mmhmm: healthy child...
that's what i thought:
i've been to strip clubs i've been to brothels
so a Taylor Swift concert was
like having eye drops with dental framework
of keeping you semi-blind
half awake and what not...

but Taylor: i had to file it as ****** abuse:
i'm an artist: i think: i hope:
maybe i don't write in paragraphs and forget:
forget: **** it: let's suppose i forget
to forget to not forget to remember
that there was this sick
prudish English and in general
trend in poetry that was so anti Greek
that words had to rhyme:
like.... painting: colors rhyme?
rhyme and meter it's like i have to be this
poet-bouncer this Socrates
who is to take away the straitjacket of rhyming
and give poets the quality of philosophy
away from the inconclusive persuasions
of the oratory demand(s)....

"smog": there were about only
4 stars visible in the sky from 16th to the 18th...
August...
Augustus...

     and imagine i was coming back from
last night's concert with two star-*******
mega-jigs... colts:
i've seen trainspotters...
weirdos... so obvious... but... NECESSARY...
absolutely... NECESSARY...
but these two colt Newtons were almost
exhilarating: listening to them talk about
getting drunk and lying back
grappling with understanding the mysticism
of the whole affair:
because they are scientifically bound
and were trying to compound
and turn science into mysticism
putting it apart is science
putting it back together is mysticism
and mysticism is not something
religiously-exclusive:
religion and the texts are defunct:
new mysticism arrived from
what needs to be filtered: via the new Pandora
that has always been Faust...

so i found a new route out of Wembley
after a shift...
i used to just stick to the right
and behave like a river against the sea of people
queuing...
but i start to dance while walking
through a crowd: ***** fast fast...
i dance there's no queue there's just a throng splinter
but you can find access on the sides
like a river and serpent
but not like a wave of people in the bad abstract
of a street...
that sea of whirls of the globe...
regardless: i feel like a ***** in an *******
into a woman i love
about to say hello to little moi...
weird thinking:
bear-******...

                it just felt authentic like two bearded men
rather than... oh... i can only imagine:
the mental asylum was not short:
but there are gay men who must discriminate
against the outlying... ooh.... itchy thinking...
itchy thinking: like a fear of ants...
but a love for spiders...
but you never see spiders feeding off ants...
so confused confusing...
then again that's a boost
for the narrative...

         i will find myself sooner dead writing
at night rather than dealing with daylight
deadlines...
hmm...
   apple... bread and wine...
   shot of ***** and a flick of cigarette ash...
o.k.
i can work with that: i'm currently seeing
where i'm at...
science and mysticism
science: putting things apart
modern mysticism is anti-related to
anything equivalent to Gnosticism
and Sufism...
current mysticism doesn't even exist:
it's in in infancy...
i don't have a noun for it...
i don't have a name for it...
like the verb and there's the doing...
noun: naming
verb: doing...
                                        being? it's not a noun...
it's also a verb...
star-gazers and educated too! they mentioned
grammatical words in conversation...
my kind of interest matter:
obviously left to their own devices
and they don't need my: influence:
they might reach 80 and find my poems
and wow: what a time-capsule
and a Erinnerung-Blitzkrieg!

                when thought: when thinking is a muddle...
Erinnerung-Blitzkrieg!

For along time, I've felt James Taylor and I are spiritual brothers. Even though Taylor was born in Boston and I in Dallas, the former grew up in North Carolina and I in Kansas. His father was a physcian, mine an attorney. Taylor attended Milton Academy, I graduated from Andover. Taylor began to experience serious emotional problems in prep school;  I had to drop out of law school when I could not sleep. We are both in our 70s now, I a bit older than he. Taylor spent time in several psychiatric hospitals in and around New England. I spent a couple of years at Menningers, ironically only a half block from where I grew up. Taylor learned how to play the guitar and began to sing the songs he composed. I, in turn, began to write poetry when in therapy I discovered I had feellngs--my own feelings--and when they unconsciously married my intellect, and out popped my first poem:  WHAT A GOOD LITTLE BOY. Many others were to fellow, but all my poems write themselves. I can still feel when a poem is rising up within me. It feels like a Kundalini arising. My job is only to "record" it, which is to say, grab a pencil or a pen, perhaps a tpyewritter, now a deskstop computer. Each poem begins in my unconscious where lie all its components--syntax, diction, all my emotions:--then moves into my subconscious, and finally into my conscious mind. And that's the moment I have to "record" it, because if I don't do that immediately, my poem floats into the infinite Cosmos never to be found again. Writing a poem is like making love:  if you have to force it, stop. Poetry is like the ocean wind:  it blows only for those sails that are open. My sense is that Taylor has a similar experience when he composes. That's why I feel he and I are spiritual brothers.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

From the BBC today,


Excerpt

Why does Taylor Swift write so many one-note melodies?

"It's easy to get distracted by her celebrity, but Taylor Swift is a once-in-a-generation songwriter. From the very beginning, she's displayed a knack for melody and storytelling that most artists never master.

Take, for example, her first US number one, OUR SONG

Written for a high school talent show, it's a fairly typical tale of teenage romance until the final lines: "I grabbed a pen / And an old napkin / And I wrote down our song."

That's smart, self-assured songwriting for someone who wasn't old enough to vote. Notably, the lyrics insert the musician directly into the narrative - something she developed into a tried and tested trope.

But Our Song also establishes another of Taylor's trademarks: The one-note melody.

Excerpt

Repetitive melodies that centre around a single note are part of that appeal. They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech.

"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."

"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."

"They emphasise her relatability by mimicking the cadence of speech."

Rebuttal

Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics. They can relate to your song but if they cannot sing it themselves putting themselves in the 'first-person perspective narrative' they cannot feel as-if they have BECOME the artist and are living that moment as they remember it. Taylor Swift sings about teenage love and angst something EVERYONE ON EARTH understands.

ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG.

Cadences are singing statements that confer a discipline and unity.

Song acts as a catharsis. The artist shares their pain in a way that is universally understood. If you want to sell a rock, literally a pebble, you will not sell it if it doesn't look like a rock. If it doesn't do what rocks do. If it is not what people remember a rock to be like. Nor will it sell if it is just like every other rock they have ever seen. It cannot convey an emotion unless it elicits emotion.

One cannot even begin to feel emotional if one cannot remember easily the past and that includes lyrics one has heard that evoked said emotional state.

It is horrifying to see HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS that rhyme be obliterated in exchange for an intellectual or individual perspective NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE.

If you want to sell and make money you better start thinking about the 99% of people who are not geniuses.

If your sole goal in life is to attract a genius to give you a great job because of how, "smart," they perceive you to be then fine.

You are not an artist.

You are an employee.



"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."

"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."

"Rhyme sells because the people you are selling too can remember your lyrics."

Thrice Times Great. ⁻ᴴᵉʳᵐᵉˢ



                                           BECOME
                              EVERYONE ON EARTH
               ALL POETRY BEGAN AS RHYME IN SONG
                      HOW BADLY EVERYONE INSISTS
            NOT SHARED BY THE MAJORITY OF PEOPLE
                                         HOW BAD
                    
                 artist?
or employee?

Why yes, I dated Taylor Swift
And no, she didn't write a song on it
I'm not quite sure what that means
Unless it is she still likes me

That might be the explanation why
I catch her out of the corner of my eye
It makes perfect sense now I believe
That Taylor Swift is stalking me

When she found out that I like to rock
She went straight from Country into Pop
Any country bumpkin can plainly see
That Taylor still has eyes for me

When I'm out shopping at the Grocery store
And I catch her sneaking down isle 4
Taylor girl you can't fool me
Your not only here for the Pickled Beets

The other day my car dinged low on fuel
So I pulled in for Petro and to check the oil
You'll never guess who's pumping gas
Do you really even need to ask

And when it is I'm home alone
There's that ring of the late night call
With heavy breathing on the end of the phone
To the tune of Shake It Off

I'm a bit more worried than I am flattered
She seems these days Mad as a Hatter
Who after all this would not believe
That Taylor Swift is stalking me

I regret to inform you
Of a tragic, yet beautiful thing
That happened to your daughter, or cousin. yes, Taylor Marie.
She has passed away the day she was born
What you see now, is a ghost of what you wanted her to be
A soul lives in this body, so don't fret

Instead of a little girl inside this body of hers,
Is a 18 year old that wants to be true to himself,
He wants to show the world that hes not Taylor Marie
He wants to scream his name from the roof of this
Probably unstable,
Mobile home.

He has the same likes as Taylor, well... we can assume he does.
Since the body he lives in has been
Nothing but a dead corpse
Slapped with a label of "girl"
A label of "Taylor"
A label, he just cant stand.
So i stand here now as an interpreter of
Who i truly am
And i will say this to you
With unprejudiced truth

To the parents, or family, of Taylor Marie.
The daughter you thought you had,
Is dead.
She never truly existed,
But i know who has,
Who has wished he could be true to who he is,
And will finally be true to himself for the rest of his life

Your son, or brother, or cousin,
Has finally been brought to the surface,
Of a body that isn't his
The body of Taylor Marie,
And his name,

Is Matthew Todd

It was like a perfect storm
All the ingredients were there
It was like all the pieces had fallen into place
Taylor Swift was coming to Dublin for some gigs
My niece was a big fan of hers
I was a bit of a fan myself, she had some great songs and videos
She had just put out a new album and it was called
"The Tortured Poets Department"
Now I'd once written a funny poem (Electric funeral) and mentioned Taylor in it.

So my niece comes down to visit
And she asks "What have you been up to Uncle, I haven't seen you in awhile ?"
I looked at her a bit weirdly and then said real mysterious like
"It happened !"
"What happened ?" she asks a bit concerned,
"Taylor Swift happened".
"What! You mean you were at the concerts".
"Well, not quite... kind of".
"What do you mean ?"
So I explain "I once wrote this funny poem and Taylor Swift was in it, I posted it online
It has a lot of views"
Then I say "She must have read my poem and then read my other poems. Y'know she has a new album out, you know what she's called it ?"
"Yes! she replies "it's called... isn't it called The Tortured Poets Department"
"You see!" I say as if it's self evident, "my poems they inspired her new album. So of course when she came to Dublin she wanted to meet me...  I was summoned... to go up and see her backstage
I was ushered into her presence
She had this lovely friendly welcoming smile just for me
And I could feel straightaway there was this... this chemistry, this spark there between the two of us
So I said to her "Careful now Taylor, if you ever fell in love with me girl
You'd start writing even better songs".

it's empty in the valley of your heart {the cave - mumford & sons}
breathing in snowflakes {the a team - ed sheeran}
standing in the dark {standing in the dark - lawson}
on the corner of first and amistad {you found me - the fray}
fading out the light softly saying {shuffle - bombay bicycle club}
life's too short to even care at all {cough syrup - young the giant}
i miss our little talks {little talks - of monsters and men}
now i'm driving round on the boulevard {swim good - frank ocean}
chasing after gold mines crossing the fire lines {between the raindrops - lifehouse}
trying to erase the memory of your face {warzone - the wanted}
but on a wednesday in a cafe i watched it begin again {begin again - taylor swift}
there's nowhere we can hide {demons - imagine dragons}
i'll build you shelter out of the rain {shelter - hedley}
and i will try to fix you {fix you - coldplay}
as long as you love me {as long as you love me - justin bieber}
even if you said i was wrong {perfect - hedley}
one minute i held the key next the walls were closed on me {viva la vida - coldplay}
london calls me a stranger {the city - ed sheeran}
but my shadow days are over {shadow days - john mayer}
nothing's fine i'm torn {torn - natalie imbruglia}
you're no good for me but i want you {diet mountain dew - lana del rey}
you make me feel like i'm intoxicated {intoxicated - the cab}
off last night's whiskey and coke {cold coffee - ed sheeeran}
is there something to believe in {makes me wonder - maroon 5}
i'm lost in the heat of it all {lost - frank ocean}
say what you need to say {say - john mayer}
i'm just waiting for the moment to arrive {gold rush - edd sheeran}
like ships in the night passing me by {ships in the night - mat kearney}
mirror on the wall here we are again {mirror - lil wayne}
but i'm not afraid {not afraid - eminem}
in your eyes i have seen all the feeling and the rain {venice - the lighthouse and the whaler}
you ran away in your sleep {paradise - coldplay}
but i won't give up on us {i won't give up - jason mraz}
like the colors in autumn so bright {red - taylor swift}
i loved you first {loved you first - one direction}
the lingering question kept me up {enchanted - taylor swift}
will your mouth read this truth {little bird - ed sheeran}
i've been loving you for quite some time {stay stay stay - taylor swift}
there's things you need to hear {the heart of life - john mayer}
you don't know how lovely you are {the scientist - coldplay}
i'm in love with you and all your little things {little things - one direction}
i belong with you  {** hey - the lumineers}
you belong with me {you belong with me - taylor swift}
i'm lucky i'm in love with my best friend {lucky - jason mraz feat. colbie caillat}

I'm always playing music
Alone on my guitar
I don't think I'll be famous
I'll never get that far
I play because I love it
I go from bar to bar
I sure don't do it for the money
I'm living in my car

I'm not sure if I'll make it
The right person must hear
The music that I'm making
Must ring true within their ear
In the clubs that I am playing
They serve shots and luke warm  beer
So the ear for which I'm looking
Is not to close to here

If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by datingTaylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift

I sit home and I practice
In the front seat not the back
Remember, I'm living in my vehicle
Beside the railroad track
I don't have much there with me
My clothes fit in a sack
Maybe one day I will make it
And I'll give fame a crack

I may not be a Kennedy
Or , a big time movie player
But, I sure as hell look better than
That pretty boy John Mayer
I can't write my own music
I just cover other songs
The streets of fame are littered
By folks like me who don't belong
But one day, I'll just make it
And I'll prove them agents wrong
One day I will be famous
I'll be the topic of a song

If I wanna be famous
And give my life a lift
There's just one way to do it
And that's by dating Taylor Swift
We'll hook up and we'll break up
I won't be with her long
Then she'll put out a new album
And she'll put me in a song
The only way to make it
And to give my life a lift
Is to go out and start dating
That singer....Taylor Swift