preserved breviaries Catholic, properly categorised
plenty of answers many questions added to, juxtaposition
of many images, a precise definition
of antagonisation, sycophantic normal positions despised
totally, military misers accused of ensnarement orderly memorialised
properties properly improved, revealed superstition
and suspicion, doubtfully splendid spirited perdition
distinguished, heirs of documents are identified, minimised
images and boors' occupied regions, grandiose
sciences are indeterminable, safely secured benefits
for runic understandings pretentious
obstinate beasts acquire in disruption, types of otiose
considerations ill-prepared to deal with credits
and debts for answering questions licentious

False memories and track marks pave your arms
Sudden revolt of youth pressurised to fail
Painkillers doubled and stacked for a head to slumber
Soft heads and dead leg spasm attack pillow piddles in *****
Fictitious tesla coil blue breath mortifys mortality
And your goggles won't fog out the underwater current miscellaneous
Digital tectonic pushing ideas you brainstorm
Shadowed reluctance to consume the musk of infrared roses
This romance is one that was jealous of itself
Pre-divorced in its own certainty on incompatibility
Basin top full too top heavy to predict precarious
Living in a shaded sense of erased memory lapses continuing truth
Toward magnificent still life categorised by perdition
Forward thinking ruby gold phong shaded hatred quantum conversate Unthinkable
Nebula of gas
Face first head in hands
Euthanasia between my thighs crush my head
Choked neck
Throat
Strangle me and give me breath
I roll and the conductor pulls apart my mouth
Diseased by euphoria lips separate and teeth show
Pupils land home and iris jumps ship
Perfume gum dry bitter butterfly kiss
Head held back in place tongue falls back into the razor-front of the mouth
Caution held simultaneous irrelevant body load carries my smile
Jump knee deep into the silence of my own lungs
It's been a while
I breath vindictively in time with the respiration of the country
Somewhere out in the hexagon sun I burn candles and whisp
Hold in smoke
Die
Twitch forward in palliative peace motionless and still
Cuspids and lochs
Spread across the grass the harmony touches yours and mine
A hole and whole dream
Conscious and dead
Content
Voices rattle in unified mono-chromidity
Sadness
Carrion

There are people in this world, and I don't mean to preach
I am exercising my rights, and my freedom of speech
Opinions will be expressed, but there's not much I can teach
Except these people drain the land, all ******* like a leach

If your a copper lover, and you like the boys in blue
Politics may float your boat, perhaps you don't have a clue
Royalists could take offence, you know what you should do
a WARNING from this moment on, I wouldn't read if I we're you

Just forget about crap brexit, it's the British who will pay
Who cares about a ******* deal, or if we go or stay
We never had no interest, with that ***** Theresa May
Her cabinet is full of ****, but they've always been that way

We don't need any governors, trying to take our land
Or politicians trying to rule, with their unruly hand
A state for every president, all thinking they are grand
And local law enforcement, I can not ******* stand

All people in authority, treat the rest of us like flops
The civil servants are not civil, nor are the ******* cops
Their issued with a uniform, and believe they are the tops
Illegal **** and seized drugs, are shared in bent cop shops

You could get a thrashing, locked behind that steel cell door
Or mowed down in a pursuit, or beaten to the floor
They get away with ******, and a hell of a lot more
In case you did not realise, Police have immunity from the law

Never mind Ladies and lords, in a world of pure desire
The deception of constabulary's, and the monarchy's a liar
They all adopt god statuses, it could be even higher
Escort them to the Wicker Man, sacrifice them in the fire

The Governments they ruin lives, their footsteps where dirt soils
Our leaders are unscrupulous, every country's left in spoils
Prime minister's winding up the world, in continuous loops and coils
The queen should go and **** herself, along with all the royals

A horses **** springs to mind, as well as ugly trolls
When I see that Prince Philip, and Camilla Parker Bowles
Charlie boy well what a ****, dragging Diana through the coals
Their the spongers of the state, all living of our tolls

Just take a look at palaces, and look at where we dwell
We're treated like we're second rate, and we all ****** smell
They stick their noses in the air, and you can always tell
That we're seen as the common folk, and we can go to hell

When seen in the public eye, you know they are looking down
They're no better then anyone else, underneath their royal gown
Why are they put on pedestals, and made jewels of the crown
And live in places that could house, half an ******* town

Who cares about false visits, who cares where they have been
Their only trying to look good, their not really all that keen
Flood victims and tsunamis, well they just want to be seen
We don't want the tossers sympathy, and ******* to the queen

Isn't she just too **** old, she should be abdicating
The rest of them can *******, their all so aggravating
Higher aches no one needs, because they are segregating
We're categorised into a class, and there is no negotiating

Disband the current monarchs, because they are out of season
The Tudors should've been the place, to put a royal freeze on
Why are they the privileged ones, there isn't a good reason
They are all above the law, and maybe that's high treason

All successors to the throne, they never had a spine
I'd rather be a *******, now the crown has lost it's shine
When there's marriage on the table, their not likely to decline
Has Meghan Markle ever been, The Bride of Frankenstein ?

I knew you were an actress, take a look at yourself now
You are like Kate Middleton, your just another royal sow
Is William a pig ******, he's reared three swine's but how?
Perhaps Harry's had a bit of  Kate, and bred that stupid cow

Because a prince just came along, and it was you they plucked
Was it the thought of royalty, when in you were then ******
Does aristocracy have its folds, are they all neatly tucked
The only job you have now, is lay down and get ******

Can I make one suggestion, now please don't take offence
You don't have to reproduce, with these two smarmy gents
Do you feel obligated, to mix in with their scents?
Or because you're now a royal, you have free tax and rents

Never mind the cushy jobs, when your in the special forces
Send William to the front line, after his training and courses
Why should our country pay, for all their false endorses
Is Margaret part of their clan, or one of the sad horses

The Duke of Edinburgh's award, why didn't he just pass
Sarah Ferguson was a commoner, and from a different class
Did Andrew like her freckles, did they extend down to her ***
She wasn't all that bothered, once behind the palace glass

Celebrities tolerate her majesty, they must have some endurance
Those poor ******* on that show, the Royal Variety Performance
Britain's Got Talent has it's winners, I hope they have insurance  
They're there for the prize money, not for the royals assurance

A variety of royalty, but there not all that enticing
So many bent police officers, who take small cuts from slicing
We don't want dodgy minister's, collecting and over pricing
It's a constabulary of governments with too much royal icing

I reckon every day is another page, another chapter to the storybook of your life. Some people have every sheet numbered in neat chronological order or categorised according to A-Z, while others are blank pages waiting to be filled, waiting for words to come. Occasionally there are stories that have been left unfinished, tragic end or dire fate, and there are those that end in the quiet melody of unsung heroes.

Of all the life stories in the world, mine is fragile at the spine, paper thin and translucent. The ink is splashed across several pages, words intelligible and smudged with tears; blood stains dotting the edges. There are countless tales that lurk beneath the binding, and even more lives entwined with mine. You, for instance, pressed thorns between the pages of the book that is my life, leaving flowers wilting amongst the splotched ink words and tears in the paper. It is funny, because only when you look back do you realise that nothing would ever be the same if you didn’t exist.

I am older now, the accompaniment to the author that is destiny and fate, overseeing the paths I am to take, the people I still have yet to meet, the places I will go. There is no promise of calm ahead, and with every recollection there are flashes of hurt and pain, of times when my heart was torn apart at the seams, shattered beyond recognition. Despite this I continue on, the naive hope that things will get better and that I will recover, lingers in the core of my soul; sparking a new hope down to the ends of my fingertips.

And while page after page is filled with cutouts and photographs of the memories I have had, none will ever shine as bright as you.

-

"When you’re here it’s like the sunrise, and when you leave it’s like the sunset."

(A.H.Z)

This number, the intangible phenomenon
That governs our lives
We are separated, categorised
Stereotyped by this number

But who's to say this number needs be comparable?
Isn't it full of subjectivity
And experiences, immeasurable data
That cannot be programmed into any system

To give us a true idea
First, tell us how many times you have been around the sun
Then tell us
Your age