A sound is a uniform pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
The cup full of tea
fell on the floor
from his hand
Or
When the fat tea-seller
slapped the little boy
for having dropped
the cup full of tea
Or
When the little boy
fell thereby hitting
his forehead on the floor
and letting out 
a stream of blood
Or
When I stood up
took out my revolver
and shot the fat man
at the forehead
exactly where the
little boy was hurt
Or
When the fat *******
fell on the ground
and died 
but
not at once
since the bullet
missed the ******
by a whisker.
A noise is an inconsistent pattern of audible vibrations.
The one that was created when…
An ambulance 
and a police car
arrived together
at the scene
of crime.
[Café 65 is the name of the tea-stall where I met the first person of this piece of work, one fine evening]

Yesterday, he came with lots of butter
Some yellow, some white, some grey 
Silent as ever, not a word did he utter 
His beautiful butters lay ready to prey

The sun was hot like a frying pan
It melted the butters and the man
Came evening, away the melting goes
By night, once again the butters froze

Today, a huge chunk of butter is it
The breakfast smells of milk and cheese
A diet very healthy indeed
But for that little blood and bone to tease.

He asked me:
"You're one of the chubby ones, aren't you?"
I didn't know how to respond.
Maybe I thought if I stayed silent,
the question would go away.

I had been feeling so good,
as if I’d finally escaped my insecurities.
I didn’t think a couple of words
could do so much damage.
But why didn’t I see it coming?

I curled my hair to distract from my round face.
I wore chunky necklaces
to hide the folds on my neck.
Big rings on my fingers,
so no one would notice their size.
Tight clothes cinched at my waist,
and every chance I got,
I’d **** in my stomach,
hoping they wouldn’t see my belly.

When I looked like a whale,
I hid beneath oversized black jackets,
draping my arms in the shadows.
I painted my face with makeup,
layer after layer,
as if it could camouflage the body underneath.

I live in a world where they say:
“Femininity is beautiful, embrace it.”
Another screams:
“Be strong, be invincible.”
Yet in the arms of a man,
the script flips completely.
“Let him lead. Let him control you.
Submit.”

“Don’t say no;
it will turn him off.”
And now, apparently,
they prefer when we beg them to stop.

Every compliment always felt like a cruel joke,
Every compliment had its own flaw.
But Finally, I looked at him and said,
"Why does it matter?

Does maturity
dress itself
just to fit in
while your
raw
spirit
undresses it
every
single
time?

if words are rounds, then I̲'m gonna send
a bullet storm on sordid dictators
being, along with ro[ɑ]tten regimes
of theirs, a bunch of derm inflammations
on the body of the world; disgruntled & mean
I'm your personal Gray Hunt
[Grayson "Gray" Hunt who's a playable protagonist of the "Bulletstorm" game]
I'ma, like someO̲ne who was in—
—volved in spetsnaz & forcibly breaks ones
imprisoned for co[ɑ]nscience from clinks
one-two-three, then the bloodshed begins
[prisoners of conscience; "one to free"]
having heard "no smoking", harsh P—ayne
turned & smack—t Wayne with a "hopeless" ash-tray
["smoking" in the sense of "killing"; Max Payne & Bruce Wayne]
[Batman's "no killing" rule, which is hopeless, as well as Max's existence]
["ane" (one), "twain" (two), "trey" (three)]
————————————————————————————————
it would be nothing short of mendacious
to say I don't wish y'all misfortunate states of
affairs, like divorces & break-ups (crack!)
yeah, all the worst to dictators
hopefully, y'all ****** jerks will be faced with
infernal damnation
for every singular person paraded
civilly through streets in support of good changes
and been delivered brute force in repayment
people in jails & clinks mauled
and denied of med help, disinfo
unjustified wars, liquidations
of those subverting a heinous sociopol. course undertaken
of course, fabrications when it's time fO̲r legal cases
(and elections, of course)
and nowadays, you've got Y̲O̲U̲r pesky agents
working on breaking
the web like Bourne which is Jason (Webb, David)
here come my warm salutations
to that stupid web regulator
that serves the dang Craymlin (got it?)
like your walking shyotka tualetnaya, take a
["toilet brush" in Russian]
[another sobriquet fitting the rhyme scheme: "toilet predator"]
hike; Y̲O̲U̲r limitations
hitting media insubmissive ta
the sick regI̲me which y'all sustain by dint of digital
censorship, to individuals with a set of principles
and views akin/sim. to mine, are like pork to unwave[—]ring
[the word's supposed to be read/pronounced as "unwayvring"]
Muslims; in other words, we evade 'em
(what are you gonna do about it?)
as you were told, better block Y̲O̲U̲r **** BHs
you subservient A-licks
["buttholes"; "a##-lickers"]
————————————————————————————————
now, let's revert to the arch black hats
when you get a just backlash
or, like drinks allowed for thO̲se under eighteen
minor shots, y'all schmucks get sore, 'kin to nates
["shots for minors"]
of someone earned a good lacing
fO̲r misbehaving (just like y'all)
get yourself some butthurt-mitigative
stuff, you scO̲rn-ridden vain ******
you're worthless like an ****** absorbed medication
to you procured a gunshot gorge perforation
but first you'd get your arms
and legs shot in its hinge joint parts
[that is, elbows & knees]
that's some mean **** marks—
—manship; as you may've gathered
like a workforce undertaken
reaping, you depraved dastards
with your regimes are something I'm sU̲re not okay with
minus them paid guarders
with shoulder marks worn & you're Swayze
for when your brainwa[ɑ]shers
and other order-maintaining
tools no longer make masses
conform to the mainstream
acts of force are your last resort
like a semi-island-based palace
[sounds familiar]
housing some gorgeous gals craving
to have some unchaste practice
["lust resort"]
some of those going po[ɑ]liticians or power-wielders
are by then already sordid? like forgery traders
not the type to think so
that's humankind's horrible nature
evolved to a high degree, though
still animals, thus Earth's, in a way, a
jumbo jungle; got a shade sidetracked
like a train, my bad; I'ma explain, like that
Malaysian Boeing Ukraine skies'd had (ex-plane)
[had had]
before it got razed 'kin/sim.
to the outrage of folks storming a place which
a c#cks#cking usurper is based in
["raised"]
the earlier stated
"BFWID"; once you are no more animated
like a cartoon paused, the verdict is plain 'kin/sim.
to a suit that is mourning-related
a torrid vacation, metaphorically saying
yet no point in packing Y̲O̲U̲r freaking raiment
since Y̲O̲U̲r destination's nothing short of pure Hades (if there is)
["sins"]
in fact, unlike some of you, I'm irreligious, but
it doesn't mean I'm cold to medieval stuff
like a hedonistic brush with a chick replete with lust
in this realm, there may be a wicked **[ɑ]t
time for you; akin/sim. to witches stuck
to those stakes, you may end up lit as f#ck
like after a cig. with **** you are
in the garden of the post-en—lightenment time going
["thyme"]
which, in fact, is the reason I
["reason I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "reasoner"]
and others with opinions similar
to mine think Earth's in need of getting rid of ya
————————————————————————————————
chief authoritarian crooks worldwide
and all those contributing to their rule of vice
you know what have just come tO̲ my mind?
look, douchewads, why
don't y'all take a tiled-rooftop hike?

they'll give it a name,
but a name doesn't mean
they'll take it more seriously
now that it has a place
in the common vocabulary.
it's still something
they don't understand,
since they can't relate
to battling the heaviness
just to stay present,
they don't know the weight
of staying awake.
now they put it on screens,
they promote it commercially,
mass-produced relief.
it still doesn't equal acceptance,
and just being able to live
shouldn't need to be paid for.
they give it a name,
but a name doesn't mean
they're no longer afraid to say it.
though it has its own place
in the vocabulary,
the victims remain unseen.

And now it starts,
And yes, I'm back at last,
Four years of trials and tribulations,
Capped off by this raucous jubilation.

I fought and won,
Proved them all wrong,
The denigrators,
The fake media perpetrators.

Now watch them squirm
As I storm into my term,
So much to do,
A solemn promise made to you.

I ask why was I spared,
When into death's eyes I clearly stared,
But when that moment I re-live,
This is what I’m here to now achieve:

Stop the woke,
Don't call a girl, a bloke.
Make us safe,
In this our home, our sacred place.

Make us strong,
So that bad actors do no wrong,
Aim to win,
Proving we are made of steel not puny tin.

Stem the divide,
For racism I simply shan't abide.
Democrats so played this ruse,
Our democracy to harness and abuse.

Let law and order thrive,
Reclaim our streets - our cities to revive,
Where children learn that doing right,
Is what gave our nation majesty and might.


For merit alone to be the glue,
So that we build and not undo,
Step up and take the strain,
Choose sunshine over rain.

Vet the folks that we let in
Ones that work and help us win;
Stop the thugs that sow despair,
See how much they truly dare.

My time may however prove too short,
But no promise made will I abort,
I’ll fight for you with all my might
To make our future prosperous and bright.

So thank-you America and watch this tale,
As the train to Woke I thoroughly derail,
No time to waste, I’m working fast,
Ensuring all that’s bad we quickly blast!

Capitalism works wonders
when you buy your soul again
after selling it to the black market
just to have two more people recognise you

Blood is just another shade of red
for the ties of the clowns with the formal attires
and suddenly everyone's accusing you again
for committing epicureanism
when you were just trying to
devour minimalism
with technology that
working hands got beaten up for

Everything violent is unacceptable
until economy craves it
then you can demolish the whole world

******* doesn't produce
enough serotonin anymore
after you've already licked
every coin you were given
and then you hear a child mourning
their stolen youth
but you're just upset because
I didn't identify their gender

You don't look good with tears
yet you whimper every time
you're not donated with a package
so pathetically sad
when the billionaire
blood feasting cooperation
doesn't acquire your fake money

And then your portrait
in your pseudo glass reality
seems to be getting old
even though they promised
that beauty hurts
but maintenance forges
your ideal mockery

O what a pity
seeing you so edible
yet so gory

I bet you're dating to colonise
and you charge for every kiss
you once assumed you had synesthesia
but you identified every sound and picture
with green
then you proceeded to commercialise
your exquisite palette
with food you yearned for
and with every drop of your saliva
a genocide began to emerge

Crying again you inject yourself with venom
that dances with your older genes that you'll never meet

O what a pity
seeing you so edible

is it considered cannibalism
for us to eat the rich
or for them
to fanatisize our hunger
through bread and circuses?