gangland fights and guns galore
bodies lying on the floor
in an all out gangland war

to win respect with a ****
in a seedy gangland thrill
people dying to young to go
theres no chance for them to grow

if only they could live as one
then all the killing would be gone
live in peace and stop the war
and live in peace for evermore

perhaps oneday it well maybe
that the future they will see
until then we just dont no
if all the violence.will ever go

Farewell Govan -
bathed in a baking sun
littered with betting shops
and no win/no fee criminal lawyers
and a myriad of pubs caked in years of libation
steeped in history of industry and shipbuilding
blackened smoked walls etched with gangland symbols:
tooled-up local carnivores who ride shotgun on a BMX
swapping discrete envelopes for indiscreet wads of cash.

Farewell Govan -
you fractured my ribs once in a moment of mistaken identity
I didn't heed the advice to not walk through the park at night
I didn't hear the pitter-patter of adolescent feet
speeding my way in brand new trainers across the grass
but I did feel the clunk of something solid on my head
as the ground rushed up to meet me in a concrete embrace
and watched as 4 bags of overladen shopping spewed out
lying face up spread-eagle in Lilliput fashion
and a mobile torch-app in my face with the repeating words
“Ima tellin’ you man its naw him, its naw him”
I reassured them frantically that I was definitely not him!
as the hooded troupe picked up what was left of my shopping
and even gifted me a couple of cans of super strength lager,
a cube of dubious council estate hash
and an usher to leave immediately
(and think myself lucky).

Farewell Govan -
you got me blazing on cheap beer at the local pub
which had recreated a holiday beach scene
with a hand-written sign that read: Better than Ibiza!
awash with carefree children
and pit-bull terriers wearing bespoke Barbour dog jackets
and brand spanking new Adidas white trainers
purchased from Tam out of a nondescript blue plastic bag
who always passes the day's pleasantries
while topping up his pension
chatting with auld Billy who was in the war (don’t you know)
via the Merchant Navy
and the version of how he was gunner on an oil boat in Vietnam
via the umpteenth pint that afternoon.

Farewell Govan -
your late night shadows harbour an underlying tension
masked with comic humour only if you can understand the lingo
words that are distasteful anywhere else are in fact a term of endearment here
I shall miss the odious vernacular and doth my cap to your spirit
the Salt of the Earth and the Lifeblood of the Community
with at least 40% proof liquids mixed with Irn Bru
purchased at the 24/7 corner store along with a can of processed peas;
one of your five a day.

Farewell Govan -
I go to the sunny side of the Clyde
where it rains just as much
but you don’t get mugged for carrying an umbrella
or asked for the time from a watch-wearing tattooed sailor
and joy-of-joys there will be actual fruit & veg shops
where I don’t have to explain what fresh coriander is
and what you use it for, other than on a pizza;
I was offered dried bottled parsley instead.

Farewell Govan.

There's a sickness in me, something I hide
At night I log on and search my inside demons
Low grade image on HD monitors
Guts and glory

I watch the videos, and smile, post a comment
Boy's body torn to shreds, eighteen wheeler destruction
I see you in Mexico, gangland violence
Remove three heads in a four minute clip, machete madness

Lean back in a leather chair, comfort in freedom
Adolescent boy, hung by the ankles
"Allah Hu Akbar", whip his *** ******
Family takes turns, mother holds a bedpan

Black man beats white woman, dominant dictator
***** shouldn't have kissed another man
Beat sense past the bleach on her scalp
Sister apathetically asks him to stop
Weak willed humanity

Who were you, before your face was gone?
Fighting this war, none shall win
Cannot see your brothers
One steals your wedding ring

There is a sickness in me
I derive pleasure from these pictures
"Zlo'radstvo", the sick man vomits

What jail cell is this
That one shoots up so freely
Gambling ***** cash
Am I, a free man, allowed to do the same?

Poor boy, cut the noose from round your neck
The poor girls are fighting in the streets
Childhoods are lost
It's hot out here, getting hotter still

Police brutality, gas station punch-up
Families fight, prostitutes steal
Streetlights are gallows
and the town burns to ashes,
with a skeletal man stumbling through the smog

Incestuous family, filming sick fantasy
Little sister scorned, crying to sleep
Bleeding orifice of a broken *****
Bleed for daddy, bleed, bleed

There is a sickness inside of me

Terrorist, hooded infidel, story to tell
Death to the west and other such messages
Bomb your city
Bomb your school
Upload it all to YouTube

A couple thousand hits of a girl beneath a truck
Dead-eyed cameraman zooms into a strewn liver
Back to her once pretty mouth
Anonymous comments, ****** deviants

There is a sickness in me and I want it gone

Secret currency, pays for a secret vice
I enjoy watching violence erupt,
Warring girls in the schoolyard
Cuts her hair, kicks to the face
I *******, feeling disgraced

Grainy suicide, bounce from the ground
Racist attack on a bus, perpetrator not found
Baby ***** in a crib, video with no sound
TheYNC profits from this,
The human condition keeps me coming around

There is a sickness in me
I call it humanity

Hours whiled away, begrudgingly sordid pixels
Opening new links, delving into insanity
Curiosity got the better of me
Tonight I probably won't sleep

take me away from this journey
i am trapped in the land of placelessness

blind / hypnotized
route 36 / bolivia
deaf / treated with ultrasound
simultaneously

scarcely knowing
what all that means

i am feeling the rising of blood
a wave of heat like sandstorms

inevitability: willful / knowing / aware

i am putting myself at risk of dying
long ago i read about the risks and consequences
of my ******* abuse
pervaded them intellectually while

my heart remains deafly because
of *******
bitter
sear
aflutter and in panic

there is just:

one life
one heart
one body one man

man what are you doing?!?!
i am hollering into my inner
embracing the envelope
obsessed over bitterness
numb love
in the dungeon of plotted heavens
lofty as never before
is where i am running away from:
every day

in the 1920s there was a man
who they called "koks-emil"
he sold ******* in the nightstreets of berlin

the national archive has been keeping
a picture of him doing business with
two girls out of gangland we
can't see the face of the one standing left only  
her back

however her companion typifies precisely
what the drug creates in our souls:
a form that can not be imitated
like the effect of the drug

a form of longing and greed in the
girl's face

longing and greed
balancing each other
not one of
these states predominates

while beholding the girl i am becoming
horridly conscious
about myself
horridly about

my relationship with *******
my affair with *******
my love to ******* this
sounds sick?
indeed it is

we call it
suffering from an addiction

we call it
suffering from a dependency

become clean.
i wish you willpower
wish you strong luck
wish you peace at last

the rate of relapsing
******* users is vast
during the night

when the wind is
breezing mildly

when the stones of the cities
are breathing out the heat of the day

while you are
sneaking over the streets

while every street corner resembles
the very one where
koks-emil used to sell his product

while you are sensing the smell
of bitterness

while you are being preoccupied with
her face: her longing her greed

while you are experiencing
yourself:

more deeply
more soberly
and more knowingly
as before

while you
are reaching out your hands searching
with kidfingers for koks-emil

the guy with the warped corner of the mouth
the reliable / greedy one

the one who is always ready

a salesman has to be available for
every second of your longing
every second of your greed

koks-emil: your world is made of black and white
your hat is grey its bonnet is vanishing as your
shivering hands

hands that spread capsules
hands that grap at bills
hands that you use to brush away your sweat

**** between the lipps
shabby coat

koks-emil your spirit
blows through inner cities like gas fumes
a grin on your face coming from
lurid lights

you became immortal
you underwent rapid decades
you were an addict
you created addicts
you served addicts

the ****** expression of the girl
your child-like customer
remains for

all for everybody with a
*******-addiction

for all and for everybody
who depends on *******

for all and everybody
who is clean from *******

for all and everybody:
longing and greed

rest in peace girl

Hoodlum’s hanging ‘bout the corner block
Waiting patiently all day, everyday
Chose the wrong path, no coming back

Users two, that have no fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Payin’ for a simple shot of gear

Death has struck that corner block
Legends leave, then newbies flock
Mothers pain, worse than news from Iraq
   
Yes it haunts us, ghetto lives
Slain by bullets and kitchen knives
Never able to wed our future brides

Users two, just felt the fear
Eagle eyed and bouncing here
Once done, nature will expel their gear

Whilst playin’ in the gangland night and day
Hoping his brotherhood won’t go away
Hoping as their bodies start to sway

Forever searching for respect
Wanting to live, but waiting for death
Hood life, that’s all you can expect?

The Day Trump Tr-i-ump-hed

Trumpeting, he ******* and triumphed…
Did he, has he?
Thumping his way forward,
Jumping through the hoops of word and phrase,
Razing those that blocked his ways,
He dazed the lot.
Crazed, ablaze – or not.  But hot,
He took a stand,
But didn’t seem to understand (and may not still)
That energy attracts a gangland:
Thinking not that crowds could form,
Become a throbbing, clobbering or bombing mob:
A swarming army.

Young we heard,
You can’t take back the caustic word
Once in the air it’s there!
So rather than lie down
Crowds gather,
Drawing to themselves an anger,
War uncivil,
Civil war
                  once more,
And monies that he’s vowed to earn
Will burn in costs for crowd control, police patrol.  

The day that Trump was voted in
May not, in fact become a win -
For reasons manifold and sundry.

The Day Trump Tr-i-ump-hed 11.11.2016
Our Times, Our Culture II: Special People, Special Occasions,
Arlene Corwin

articles like this really **** me off...
my father is a subscriber to The Times...
personally? i think that Monday ought to be treated
at a media / journalistic sabbath...
nothing ever happens on a Sunday:
what's there to write about on a Monday:
for a Monday... all the newspaper editions
are always the slimmest on a Monday...
it's like... take a hike, won't you?
the best day to read a newspaper, most definitely
a Sunday... it comes with all the cultural reviews
some recipes... a culmination of a week
or even a month... the news review and
the editorial comment sections are best on
a Sunday... why not print anything on a Monday?!
- and it's always on a Sunday that
i find all the juicy bits... the one day in the week
but the current month... bad timing...
either i watch the FA cup / the six nations
or i read a newspaper / the newspaper magazine
while drinking two bottles of 8.2% cider....
well, sure... with beer when you raise the game
to Carlsberg's Special ******* Brew that
comes in at 9%: it's an ugly affair... you start
squirming asking yourself: are you *******
a lemon?! but "alas"... it's cider... so it's almost like
drinking ****-poor diluted wine...
but it makes some agonising articles:
mostly written by women... a tad bit... more...
bearable...
         mainstream media is out of touch...
someone has already said it, someone is already
saying it: someone else will say it later on...
oh i'm big on the female-centric pieces of
the newspaper: forget all that objective journalism,
cold, hard, male: give me the facts and... *******...
no no... as a reader i'm also a weaver...
i like to spin a counter narrative in my head...
The Sunday Times STYLE magazine...
   Dolly Alderton speaks to a rising star in
pop music... a Self Esteem - formerly known
as Rebecca Lucy Taylor... oh, right...
so like Prince... or Michael Jackson:
the guy formerly known to be black? cool cool...
you can check her out...
music sort of akin to spoken word poetry:
whatever the hell that means... no, not Kate Tempest
style... again: spoken word poetry?
oh, right, i'm more into composition than
performance so this is: written word poetry...
fair enough...
   i'll sooner be found dead than performing my word
in the current climate... 'said a poopy word!
cancel him!' no thank you,
i still have a head ******* on this neck
on these shoulders... i'll wait for the jazz to calm
the **** down... i'll probably be an irrelevant
relic by then, hopefully mummified like
Lenin... you never know...
hmm... Rotherham-born... 35...
and what are the chances that...
you know... Rotherham... Pakistani grooming-gangs...
only yesterday my company employed
20+ Pakistani zombies that probably sprouted
out of cousin-on-cousin *******...
dull... zoned-out... glassy eyed *****...
what are the chances?
they looked... well... less sinister more murky...
slimy...no... not slim i.e. slimmy... slime-e...
slimey... i know, it should be written slimey
and not slimy... which sort of implies slimmy: slimming...
no no... so of how you'd write: smiley...
slimey... makes sense...
i'll just verbatim the headline...
(she really looks like a Marilyn Monroe doppelganger,
voluptuous, vivacious, all the required va va voom
of a woman)
   MEN ARE REALLY SCARED OF ME...
last time i checked... there's this ****** proverb
that states... fear has large eyes...
guess what... only yesterday i saw those large eyes
of fear when the four of us were outnumbered
by about 30+ screaming chanting taunting drunk
teenagers / football hooligans at a match...
i must have been squinting or something...
in this profession (of stewarding) i hear a lot of macho
bravado about smacking some...
very much aligned to the narrative borrowed
from the film: Rise of the Foot Soldier...
Essex gangland... blah blah br'uh...
                                       o.k. we get it: you have an erecticle
dysfunction, need to compensate by going
to the gym to increase your muscle mass...
modern films... hell...
they used to be great... up to the point where
they made it adamant that they were also
advertisement flicks... zooming in on products...
worn by characters in a no-plot scenario...
usually watches, electronic products...
food brands, restaurants...
it's like capitalism selling itself to capitalism...
what a hyper-inflated word...
which word? capitalism... i mean... i was born
in a former Soviet satellite state...
n'ah... it wasn't so bad... "my" people sort
of went along with the Russian influence:
when the art of metallurgy was still in "fashion"
in Eastern Europe, but it's not like we took
the Bolsheviks that much seriously than "we" did
the Nazis... after all: funny fact:
it took **** Germany AND Soviet Russian
to conquer Poland than it took **** Germany
to conquer France... Napoleon must have been
turning in his grave...
    i don't think men are scared of women...
personally i like to think of them as timid little
creatures that... OVER-ESTIMATE
their worth, confidence,
                              looks, worth...
                availability... as a man that knows how
to cook, as a man that does all the house chores...
and all the man *******...
oh, right, today... one of my cats did a ****-poor
job at taking a ****...
she managed to plough out two blobs from the "cuvette"
and leave them sitting pretty on
the matt beside the "cuvette"...  
   yes yes, i know, it's a misnomer... read some Wittgenstein...
i'm thinking in ****** while writing in
English... the word is originally French...
blah blah... i lied to little Freddy / Reinhart about
the origins of the word haemorrhage -
one of the words for his school spelling exams...
i said: oh... that's Latin... i'm kicking myself
over the etymological falsity i passed down on to him...
yes: it's Greek...
from HAIMA - blood (noun) &
                         RHEGNUNAI - burst (verb)...
so then i lifted her up and sniffer her...
oh jeez! Louise! **** this ****... i'm not having some
stinking cat walking about my house...
meow meow... ******* horror movie meow...
well you should have taken a **** better!
scratching, a proper bite at the hand!
into the shower with you! washed her from all the
stink... petulant little **** of a cat that she
was she managed to come across as penitent
when i shampooed her and the water was running
down her spine... ha ha...
so much for a maine ****... more like a rat now...
wrapped her up in a blanket put her
on my lap and watched about 20 minutes
of Liverpool's struggle with Birmingham City in
the FA cup...
                  then ****** off on my bicycle for some
whiskey and turkey stakes for the cats to eat...
wait... didn't i once feed Quorus a fish eye,
while filleting a trout? oh yeah... i did...
that was fun to watch... i sometimes catch mosquitos
by the legs and feed them too...
- do men can possibly fear women?
plainly, on the outright? i very much doubt it,
like Bane said in that opening scene from
Christopher Nolan's Batman movie:
this is no time for fear, doctor... that comes later...
how women have churned out a complete
lack of perception misguiding initial attraction
for fear... it's like they have no clue about how
men behave... when they're attracted
to women... "unconscious" curiosity is not
a fear... a woman is still somewhat abstract...
hell: to me she's forever an abstract...
i don't have the practicality of a man that might
gamble, take the plunge...
impregnate one...             last time i heard
it was considered a bad idea for a man to be
present at child-birth... women should take care
of women's "issues"...
ooh... i'm scared of a woman
but not a ******* tiger? logic paradox...
i'm scared of a puddle but not the raging sea!
how did women conjure up this
invulnerability? too many boy bands in the 90s...
too many male feminists?!
- and then the Sarah Everard ******...
men are scared of women... BOMBAST egoism...
no, not scared... just a case of men
scrutinising: is this going to be worthy?
tying the knot... getting up at 5am, coming back
home at 8am and getting nothing
5 pieces of sushi to eat... the house in a turmoil,
the kids growing up feral...
is it... worth merely the looks?!
the looks, right now? i mean... she's going to
be a ******* granny in about 20 years
if she's already a single mum aged 39...
is it going to be worth it?
or... if she's in her 20s... what's her boredom
spectrum, does she need to be on a ferris-wheel
all the ******* time or can she take an hour
of reading beside a fireplace and the deafening silence...
can she handle Mistress Death?
has she been to a funeral? has one of her grandparents
died?!
right...                    yeah.... scared of a woman
because of her good looks...
                scared akin to: what are the chances
she's going to go on a cosmopolitan safari
of **** given the current influx of black walking
****** of migrants on dingy boats...
what are the chances of her becoming a liability
rather than a partner?!

- - - - - - interlude - - - - - - -

****, where was i? oh man, i really love listening
to garbage... no, not literally...
the band... stupid girl, i'm only happy when it rains,
#1 crush, dog new tricks...
i never thought i'd find a recipe for
pasta and smoked salmon... lucky me...
so ******* simple... onion, sour cream,
some tomato(s), two tablespoons of capers,
lemon juice... pepper... chilly flakes...
preferably the Korean ones that also act like
turmeric - i.e. they colour the food...
smoked salmon added at the last minute...
some slices reserved for garnish to make
the dish look more appealing... and obviously
dill... to be honest: a lot of dill...
what did i watch? Beijing Winter Olympics...
why are they so racist?! joke... seriously
that's a joke... why are, why oh, oh my god why
are the winter olympics so racist?!
no winters in Africa?! maybe?!
no ******* snow... what are they going to
do... surfing on the dunes of Sahara?!
ha ha... it's untouchable! i love it!
but what i don't love... why didn't all the countries
simply, outright, boycott Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
why indulge them as if nothing *******
happened for the past 2 years...
i mean... the Soviets were boycotted back
in the day when people had... ***** for brains
and brains for *****... but these days?
even the **** are ******* labradors lapping up
any attention going their way... ******* silly *****...

plus, the Olympics per se...
there was always equality when it came to sports...
not popular sports like rugby,
football or boxing, i give you that...
sports for rich men and silly little ***** to drool
over status...
but real sports... unattractive sports,
unpopular sports...
we're not going to have a pay gap debate
when it comes to professional tennis...
women only have to play a maximum of 3 sets...
men? 5 sets... how long did that Australia Open
final take, to get finished? close to 6 hours?
right...
     what wage gap?
well, at least in the Olympics a man has
to run a marathon... a woman runs what? half of it?
no no... ***** is running the ******* marathon...
hundred metres? she's running the hundred metres...
obviously she's going to be slower...
that's not my problem... but even saying that...
i enjoy female tennis more than the men's...
i don't know... they moan more?!
or perhaps my generation, the millennials
produced 2 of the 3 greatest players in: whenever...
so... maybe it just a got a bit ******* boring...

oh, but i'll be boycotting the current Olympic
games in Beijing... it's not progressive enough,
there are not enough... what's that ******* acronym...
B.C.I.W. - black, coloured, indigenous, women...
i don't know what the state of the current
alphabet soup of acronyms from H'america is at...
****! **** ****! pump snow to Africa!
get some ice! let's get a bobsleigh team going!
******* Wankees and their currency
of current rotten ideas!

ha ha: it's already served to me on a silver platter...
all i have to do is drink a little and stew and spew...

sure, it's only going to be a soft boycott,
i just watch those games,
pointless... thanks for the pandemic,
no thank you, otherwise...
i sort of feel sorry for the athletes being so compliant
with the narrative...

oi! Ummah! where's you suicide squad from
Saudi Arabia's elite breaking into
the concentration camps where
the Uyghurs are being sentenced to unspeakable
horrors? oh sure... attack the West while
seeking proselytes, but don't care about
your existing Muslim community...
i see a third breaking apart of Islam...
i don't know why i see it... but this will not be
along the lines of the Sunni and Shiah...
this might actually involve the Turks...
i see the Turks as a third, separate,
branch of Islam: even if they're not already that,
where are your little ****-pants blow-themselves-up
rather than fight, fighting for your Ummah
in Ch-ch-ch-I-n'ah?!
                                   oh right, nowhere to be found...
too busy kiddy-fiddling English girls
in Rotherham!
      ******* degenerates!
i'm fuming at the teeth: and they have the *******
audacity to lecture me about, principle?
racists too... they think very little of the Chinese...
as Muslims... the "master religion"
the "master race"... ******* camel-jockeys...
the whole entire rest of them!

- the temperature in the house dropped to 17 degrees...
ooh, a bit chilly... wrote my father's invoice,
took out the garbage, ****... forgot to take out
the dwindling yellow tulips, will do, next week...
received an email that i passed my NVQ for role
as steward... well great... pressed play on
the thermostat... waited as i did all of that...
oh my my... it's getting hot... ran up to my bedroom
to turn it off... it read... 18 degrees...
wow! wow! imagine what one degrees Celsius makes...
i never thought... well: i never thought that
could be possible...

- - - - - - - - end of interlude - - - - - - - - - - -

i must have finished writing about the previous
article, since, i took time for an interlude of...
what was already stated...
                           this second article... i have to begin
with a rubric, oh yeah, it's sourced:
   ONS, UN, relate.org...

rubric, i.e. a list and it's as follows (leaving the approximation
words aside):
1. 1 in 7 people in the UK living alone by 2039
1. 61% of single women say they are single-happy
  compared with 49% of men
            (men, if they lie, are good at it,
   good enough to become serial killers;
    but women? they are compulsive,
which does't necessarily translate as them being
                       good at it; they're usually not -
they're spastic-fantastic sort of clumsy, at it)
3. 1 in 6 of British people believe in the concept
   of "the one"...
4. 10% of Brits enjoy the **** to the ****
with the chicken; 13% in the wake of the fine fine
MADE IN CHINA whatever-it-was don't
feel ready for intimacy...

               oh sure... the hypochondriacs have
finally been found... i was wondering why they /
where they disappeared to... but now they're in plain
sight... with their secular makeshift niqqabs...
i like this transparency... it's good for an apparent
"schizophrenic" to start to feel more comfortable
in his skin... then again: thank you China...
i can now clearly see the neurotics and the hypochondriacs...
the little people on the spectrum of the asylum...
no... the micro-aggression crowd...
no... not the raving lunatics...
the cult of the moon crowd...
the ones speaking to their shadows... taking
selfies of their shadows... haunting graveyard type
of crowd... thank you... i can see the mice...

5. 25% think they are out of bedroom practice, antics...
well, d'uh... 8% are more open to same-*** relationships...

  yeah, i was thinking that... maybe it would be easier
dating a man... but he'd have to be Greek...
and be learned in... classical thought from ancient
times when pederasts where accepted
like modern Pakistan freely welcomes paedophiles
as long as they do it to English girls... that sort of, "thing"...

i abhor the western concept of dating...
i might have been on a date once...
yeah... i was on a date once...
we went to an art gallery,
to the cinema, to a restaurant...
then we started dating, we were in high school...

after that? i was already ******* her
when she asked me to take her to a sea-food restaurant
for clams, oysters and mussels...

dating... oh, right... that one speed-dating event
that made me look like an ***...
dating... is that like... the Chelsea flower show?
you know... where you go to see flowers
but can't pluck any for a bouquette
to take home? it must be like that...
i wouldn't know... ****** off to the brothel
early... found a stone in the shape of a heart
on the pavement once...
called it my own... never looked back...

   just to make sure... i treat oath words very much
akin to superlatives - i know they're not superlatives,
but in the sense of keeping a modern
narrative... they're pretty much akin to being
treated as such, as, i dare say,
punctuation marks without actually being punctuation
markers... they allow for a flow of ideas,
for a flow of a narrative...

cuntish ******* filth if you ask me:
but i do wash my teeth on a regular basis
and i do eat healthily...

6. 1 in 10 Brits is burned-out by dating...
   & dating apps...
                                       don't know... never used
any... i'm still archaic in that i still have
a Facebook account...

7. 71% of men feel a pressure to be in relationships
compared to 58% of women...

as the list goes on... am i, supposed to feel, surprised?!

8. a 16% increase in those living alone...
9. 1 in 6 between the ages of 45 & 64 live alone
10. 48% of "singletons" (women) feel a pressure
to find a partner based off of their social
relationships... men work, together...
******* socialising... ******* with the banter...
the chit-chat... what are we doing,
where are we doing it, how long will it take?
base... women do all that private revelry *******...

11. women are more likely so say that a relationship
is unsatisfactory...  
              well... yeah... look sharp, Sherlock!
Watson's coming! ******* plonkers for plumbers!

12. there are three other facts, but they are
citing **** without numbers...
so... i'm not going to bother... based on feels...   yawn...
it's much easier to just recite lyrics from
the Garbage song: Stupid Girl...
you pretend you're high,
you're pretend you're bored,
pretend you're everything,
just to be adored...
and what you need, is what you get...
don't believe in fear...
don't believe in faith,
don't believe in anything,
that, you can't break...
stupid girl... stupid girl..
all you've had you've wasted...

oh, my god, is it my job to warn them off?!
HE will ask: and how ws your life...
i've lived with cats enough time to know:
and HE will ask... never mind: it be be a SHE...
and IT will ask... and ask... are you
awake... as if... implying: do you think you're dead?!

the rest of the article...
the pinnacles of female freedom...
i'm not going to cite them they're disgusting....
she goes through *******
cosmic concepts and premonitions that
are less grounded in the sands of Arabia
by a horses' hoof than a camel "toe"...

these wankers want to come up north and
dictate the ******* rules...
dictate this... change my ******* mind!
******* plop of a soppy **** that you..
quasi-***** seem to be...
kiddy-fiddlers... you soppy losers...
cousin-*******... camel-jockeys...
weak... quasi-men...
men... sort of...

          i'm not going to go through her article...
she's a sorry *** loser
by the standards expected of men...
no sorry... kind ***...
men band together....
  all as one... or none: to begin with!
and you women, think,  "think"...
you can somehow infiltrate our ranks...
what? you gonna bake me a bannana loaf
worth of loaf..
with all the pecan / walnut "trimmings"...
girl... you're having a ******* laugh...

i'm not reading through this *******...
you want me to bite someone's neck?
no one has yet seen how feral i can could become...
at the job...  i could just roll my eyes back
declaring nothing but sclera...
again: why are women even involved
in this sort of *******?!
why?! are?! you? *******!! here!! ypu,
******* useless, *****?!

i'm here to pick up a fight...
but here you are, pretending to be
a ******* grandma... and that's your excuse...
*****, i hope you get your head sorted,
get punched.... silly ******* cucnt...
oh right... my excuse among the football
hooligans... i'm i woman!
don't touch me! i'n your sister, your mother...
this **** is going to boil...
you tell me that ****, one, more,
******* time... i'm going to 'ed in yurr
******* grandm'ah...!
i know these *****... women are playing
a tight game...

esp. when you... ***** yourselves......
Rotherham didn't ******* help...
you ******* cheap **** ******...
i keep tight, silent, because...
i've been to brothels... but this ****...
i'm not even English... this... sort of hurts...
it, can't be, allowed, an outlet,
via... football, matches...
no, mate, no!

   your sister has been suckered into *******
this... sickle- cell anemia sort of *****
from Pakistan...
oh don't worry about theit race...
they don't have a skin tone...
their skin tone... if any:
cant's miss 'em... slimey *****...
olive oil slimey...
in-bred looking *****... *****-eyeds...
sorry... some people just look
******* clueless! period!
like they're out of "the game"...
they're gone... they're meat for the machinery!
the end! sorry... stop sopping:
no one's special!
weird like... Frankenstein looking
at the monster he created... seriously?!
i, made... that? oh, **** me...
better **** it... but wait...
oh... a chance he might transcendent me...
no... not with these kiddy-fidddling Pakistanis...
chances are... the ******* 4 seasons on
the continent of Antacrtica!

We rode through the spectators,
pedaling our mountain bikes
as if on a sacred mission.
The pink Tinkerbell wings
flapped furiously on our backs,
leaving glitter in the wind behind us.

Our radios squelched,
screamed,
barked requests
as we twisted & turned,
faced the cool breeze
that splattered raindrops
on our grinning faces.

Of course, our tatted left arms
sported colorful tigers & rainbows,
suns & moons.
But despite our reputations
as gangland members,
all we could hear was,
"Here come the fairies!"
emanating from
the laughing crowd
of disbelieving onlookers.

fill the world with love take away the hate
dont let some gangland killing be the answer to your fate
fill the world with kindness take away despair
replace it with your love show the world you care

make the world a better place in which we all can live
love is there inside you and his free to give
give to the starving in each and every place
share the love you have with all the human race

make the world a safe place fit for living in
take away the hate and its world of sin

Yea,
.     i miss the simple ****, not that I had it simple back when,
I was a kid with no parents, maby that would explain my appearance.
wearin baggy clothes and Wal-Mart shoes filled with holes.
Told the kids at school i was a gangster,  before i even watch gangland shows,
I knew i had a path so i never chose goin back.
Grew up just a little fast, knew more about the underground than anybody in class

why is there so much fighting in this day and age
why is all the world filled with so much rage
why the gangland wars blood is getting spilled
why so many dead with people getting killed
will it ever end and turn a different page
so we can live in peace again and take away the rage

a Francis Bacon exhibition is currently happening at the National Portrait Gallery... i'm planning to go tomorrow... tickets on sale around £25... i'll also buy the ******* gallery bound to a book... just discovered the resurrection ofg Eminem... Lucifer... imagine all the advertisement propaganda of the saviour in black man... but then comes Puff Daddy worse than ****** in Hell: ****** in Heaven i ***** the birth of the rebirth of Israel and the Jews with a nation and a diaspora like all the rest of us except for the U.S.A. and maybe Russia but i don't think me me me... language block... my black savior is a ******* pervert my **** my pi two square e... rap my little *** along and forget Newton's great ****...

bluff bluff: an **** plug and the baby
and her waters of the tub...
maybe i'm reading Frank Herbert's Dune...
maybe the serpents and gardens
have been replaced by
worms and deserts and mountains...
and then i see a **** in every fish
i see in the sea...
like black glue of vomitting
hallucinating of the peer of the void
of the pupil no sclera
and no iris of fish...
maybe there's magic in the eye
of both dog and cat
but i see the same sane black fish
in squirrel and rat
and wait... of the fox? i swear:
gangland **** i'm working
an open air asylum...

             breed the idea...
mommy daddy
oh my son
oh O
O oh daughter...
oculus per oculus...
eye for an eye
my utmost desperate utmost last and first
the aesthetic as primo
and ethics as levi
Matthew: my passion...
away bouncing thinner from
Ethopia...
if Christ is to return my namescape...
Rupnzil...
no...

  7 deadly sins and come the 7 phobias:
two chimeras mated you
selling me:
two ******* giraffes?
you want this Colisseum to run
on **** and *****?
i need blood... i need blood!

fear of spiders
fear of open spaces
fear of the night...
Islamophobia does not collide
with this beast of the new 7 heads
i have rational to fear Islam
ask the Polacks and ask the Romanians
and the revision of Europe via
the Ottomans:
even the Arabs rebelled
and Lawrence and Sire: Sinaz...
the river parition of the Red Sea:
the Runes and that fluctuation of the seas
into alter
the old the serpent isn't here:
no garden...
just the barren land of desert
and the mountain ranges
and the arm
my seeing unseeing eye
of the worm...
as god evolved: so did the devil...
you think concepts and absstracts
don't evolve: that intellect is man's own
possession?
debris...
              my history my own light...
better father better mother mother
better Reyla can i ask for....
i have a clue into a rational fear of Islam
like i have a double edged sword
the old Pagan armed with Judaism
i also have a fear of Christianity:
you late learners my **** my lord
i better tell them...
i'm playing a game of...

like the effect... forget the name...
they call me Matthew:
Matteo... Matti... Matt...
but my true name has already
been given and brided with ink
on paper...
i am Conrad... like i add an M
in volutpous... like i add an extra D
to conDrad...

**** Germany + the High Fashion +
KISCH...

Tell me a story
Of truths and lies,
Lots of intrigue
With a web of spies.
Street corners and
Shady dives
Crooks and gangsters
Trying to stay alive.
Information being
Brought and sold
Gangland killings
Leaving victims cold.
Every black suit
Trying to make a buck
Headless chickens
Not giving a cluck.
As night follows day
And all said is done,
Nothing like a cup of tea
And a lovely currant bun.

the emperor
gangland prince

standing above
looking down

spreading arms
as if he owned

the world
surrounded by

all those who fear
looking down on

and all you did
and all you said

rest once more
sweet prince

sleep beneath
your canopy of evil

and wake with a soul
feeling

all you deserve
for what you’ve done

why do people stab why do people ****
take away a life just to get a thrill
taking lives of loved ones from there family
for them a life of grief there will always be

if the only knew the damage that they cause
with there gangland ways and there gangland wars
if they only knew the carnage that leave
for all the families that they leave to grieve

they dont have a conscience to them its just a thrill
just another target just another ****
there own lives they destroy locked up in cell
for families of victims lifes a living hell

They say it takes a village, right?
“Yeah, a village for sure.”
When all I see is siege
And a city at war
I got a rich soul
But I’m extremely poor
My best friend got shot
I couldn't even mourn
Had to be a man
Had to join the band
Gangland
Rain Man
While these colonizers are playing hangman
With the Fam
Creating a league of their own called the J.J.E
Judge, Jury, and Executioner
Quicksand, I'm in a jam
Sticky ****
Big whips, crack rock, hollow tips
All I see
An introspective perception through these wide brown eyes
Hypnosis
Under a spell
It's a scary movie out here
Like Jeepers Creepers
I got the Bible with the Glock on my side
So, I won’t see the reaper
Seeing beakers on the stove
Around four years old
Product
But no environment
Living in this ghetto jungle
Everyday trying to get the first down and not fumble
Loose yards, lose life!
That's just the story of the Black plight
Black life
Not even looking to make it past eighteen
When all the odds are against me
How could another being that looks just like me
Really hate me, like they hate me!
Relate me
Brothers right?
Not that simple
When all they see is ******* colors!
Not even the mothers or the fathers
That's what the streets taught us
Play for keeps
Don’t speak
Just keep it on you, like you play for the heat
Like a feline, I split the beeline
Tale of Two Cities
Got to stay ten toes down
Always on my feet
Even though I know the Lord is with me
Mommy and Daddy just got popped
For disputing with cops
Body drops
So mad
So red
That now, I'm shooting at the ops
Body drops
**** this and **** that
That's all I hear
**** this and Sip that
That's all I hear
Pop this, Smoke this
Help!
Get your mind clear
So high, mind gone
Can fly to Navy pier
Red and blue lights in my rear
If it’s my time, then time’s up
No need to fear
Heart dark as coal
Nerves cold as ice
Hate in the eyes
Shots fired
The end is near
No need to cry
Dry your eye
Not even one tear
This is the life of a Black adolescent
I wish I had a different lesson
To see,
I wish I had a different vision
To grow,
I wish I could change the mission
I listen,
I wish I could hear the freedom coming for my life

But this is just the life of a Young, Black, Adolescent
I can stop running…

They say it takes a village, right?
“Yeah, a Village, right?”