It’s interesting how the
Shyer crowds manage
To communicate with each other

A silent eye conversation
Of pure flirtation
All the extroverts oblivious

A trail of fingers across warm skin
The teacher snaps at a popular pair playing footsie
And the two continue their game

The sneaky *******
Were never suspected, until!
One turned up with a love bruise

*Gasp!

A note of seeming truth and trust
                      Hid crafty observation;
                And secret hung, with poison’d crust,
                      The dirk of defamation:
                A mask that like the gorget show’d
                      Dye-varying, on the pigeon;
                And for a mantle large and broad,
              He wrapt him in Religion.
                   (Hypocrisy-à-la-Mode)


Upon a simmer Sunday morn,
     When Nature’s face is fair,
I walked forth to view the corn
     An’ ***** the caller air.
The risin’ sun owre Galston muirs
     Wi’ glorious light was glintin,
The hares were hirplin down the furrs,
     The lav’rocks they were chantin
          Fu’ sweet that day.

As lightsomely I glowr’d abroad
     To see a scene sae gay,
Three hizzies, early at the road,
     Cam skelpin up the way.
Twa had manteeles o’ dolefu’ black,
     But ane wi’ lyart linin;
The third, that gaed a wee a-back,
     Was in the fashion shining
          Fu’ gay that day.

The twa appear’d like sisters twin
     In feature, form, an’ claes;
Their visage wither’d, lang an’ thin,
     An’ sour as ony slaes.
The third cam up, hap-step-an’-lowp,
     As light as ony lambie,
An’ wi’ a curchie low did stoop,
     As soon as e’er she saw me,
          Fu’ kind that day.

Wi’ bonnet aff, quoth I, “Sweet lass,
     I think ye seem to ken me;
I’m sure I’ve seen that bonie face,
     But yet I canna name ye.”
Quo’ she, an’ laughin as she spak,
     An’ taks me by the han’s,
“Ye, for my sake, hae gien the ****
     Of a’ the ten comman’s
          A screed some day.

“My name is Fun—your cronie dear,
     The nearest friend ye hae;
An’ this is Superstition here,
     An’ that’s Hypocrisy.
I’m gaun to Mauchline Holy Fair,
     To spend an hour in daffin:
Gin ye’ll go there, you runkl’d pair,
     We will get famous laughin
          At them this day.”

Quoth I, “With a’ my heart, I’ll do’t:
     I’ll get my Sunday’s sark on,
An’ meet you on the holy spot;
     Faith, we’se hae fine remarkin!”
Then I gaed hame at crowdie-time
     An’ soon I made me ready;
For roads were clad frae side to side
     Wi’ monie a wearie body
          In droves that day.

Here, farmers ****, in ridin graith,
     Gaed hoddin by their cotters,
There swankies young, in braw braidclaith
     Are springin owre the gutters.
The lasses, skelpin barefit, thrang,
     In silks an’ scarlets glitter,
Wi’ sweet-milk cheese in mony a whang,
     An’ farls, bak’d wi’ butter,
          Fu’ crump that day.

When by the plate we set our nose,
     Weel heaped up wi’ ha’pence,
A greedy glowr Black Bonnet throws,
     An’ we maun draw our tippence.
Then in we go to see the show:
     On ev’ry side they’re gath’rin,
Some carryin dails, some chairs an’ stools,
     An’ some are busy bleth’rin
          Right loud that day.
…

Here some are thinkin on their sins,
     An’ some upo’ their claes;
Ane curses feet that fyl’d his shins,
     Anither sighs an’ prays:
On this hand sits a chosen swatch,
     Wi’ *****’d-up grace-proud faces;
On that a set o’ chaps at watch,
     Thrang winkin on the lasses
          To chairs that day.

O happy is that man and blest!
     Nae wonder that it pride him!
Whase ain dear lass that he likes best,
     Comes clinkin down beside him!
Wi’ arm repos’d on the chair back,
     He sweetly does compose him;
Which by degrees slips round her neck,
     An’s loof upon her *****,
          Unken’d that day.

Now a’ the congregation o’er
     Is silent expectation;
For Moodie speels the holy door,
     Wi’ tidings o’ salvation.
Should Hornie, as in ancient days,
     ‘Mang sons o’ God present him,
The vera sight o’ Moodie’s face
     To’s ain het hame had sent him
          Wi’ fright that day.

Hear how he clears the points o’ faith
     Wi’ rattlin an’ wi’ thumpin!
Now meekly calm, now wild in wrath
     He’s stampin, an’ he’s jumpin!
His lengthen’d chin, his turn’d-up snout,
     His eldritch squeal and gestures,
Oh, how they fire the heart devout
     Like cantharidian plaisters,
          On sic a day!

But hark! the tent has chang’d its voice:
     There’s peace and rest nae langer;
For a’ the real judges rise,
     They canna sit for anger.
Smith opens out his cauld harangues,
     On practice and on morals;
An’ aff the godly pour in thrangs,
     To gie the jars an’ barrels
          A lift that day.

What signifies his barren shine
     Of moral pow’rs and reason?
His English style an’ gesture fine
     Are a’ clean out o’ season.
Like Socrates or Antonine
     Or some auld pagan heathen,
The moral man he does define,
     But ne’er a word o’ faith in
          That’s right that day.

In guid time comes an antidote
     Against sic poison’d nostrum;
For Peebles, frae the water-fit,
     Ascends the holy rostrum:
See, up he’s got the word o’ God
     An’ meek an’ mim has view’d it,
While Common Sense has ta’en the road,
     An’s aff, an’ up the Cowgate
          Fast, fast that day.

Wee Miller niest the Guard relieves,
     An’ Orthodoxy raibles,
Tho’ in his heart he weel believes
     An’ thinks it auld wives’ fables:
But faith! the birkie wants a Manse,
     So cannilie he hums them;
Altho’ his carnal wit an’ sense
     Like hafflins-wise o’ercomes him
          At times that day.

Now **** an’ ben the change-house fills
     Wi’ yill-caup commentators:
Here’s cryin out for bakes an gills,
     An’ there the pint-stowp clatters;
While thick an’ thrang, an’ loud an’ lang,
     Wi’ logic an’ wi’ Scripture,
They raise a din, that in the end
     Is like to breed a rupture
          O’ wrath that day.

Leeze me on drink! it gies us mair
     Than either school or college
It kindles wit, it waukens lear,
     It pangs us fou o’ knowledge.
Be’t whisky-gill or penny-wheep,
     Or ony stronger potion,
It never fails, on drinkin deep,
     To kittle up our notion
          By night or day.

The lads an’ lasses, blythely bent
     To mind baith saul an’ body,
Sit round the table weel content,
     An’ steer about the toddy,
On this ane’s dress an’ that ane’s leuk
     They’re makin observations;
While some are cozie i’ the neuk,
     An’ forming assignations
          To meet some day.

But now the Lord’s ain trumpet touts,
     Till a’ the hills rae rairin,
An’ echoes back return the shouts—
     Black Russell is na sparin.
His piercing words, like highlan’ swords,
     Divide the joints an’ marrow;
His talk o’ hell, whare devils dwell,
     Our vera “sauls does harrow”
          Wi’ fright that day.

A vast, unbottom’d, boundless pit,
     Fill’d fou o’ lowin brunstane,
Whase ragin flame, an’ scorching heat
     *** melt the hardest whun-stane!
The half-asleep start up wi’ fear
     An’ think they hear it roarin,
When presently it does appear
     ’Twas but some neibor snorin,
          Asleep that day.

‘Twad be owre lang a tale to tell,
     How mony stories past,
An’ how they crouded to the yill,
     When they were a’ dismist:
How drink gaed round in cogs an’ caups
     Amang the furms an’ benches:
An’ cheese and bred frae women’s laps
     Was dealt about in lunches
          An’ dauds that day.

In comes a gausie, **** guidwife
     An’ sits down by the fire,
Syne draws her kebbuck an’ her knife;
     The lasses they are shyer:
The auld guidmen, about the grace
     Frae side to side they bother,
Till some ane by his bonnet lays,
     And gi’es them’t like a tether
          Fu’ lang that day.

Waesucks! for him that gets nae lass,
     Or lasses that hae naething!
Sma’ need has he to say a grace,
     Or melvie his braw clathing!
O wives, be mindfu’ ance yoursel
     How bonie lads ye wanted,
An’ dinna for a kebbuck-heel
     Let lasses be affronted
          On sic a day!

Now Clinkumbell, wi’ rattlin tow,
     Begins to jow an’ croon;
Some swagger hame the best they dow,
     Some wait the afternoon.
At slaps the billies halt a blink,
     Till lasses strip their shoon:
Wi’ faith an’ hope, an’ love an’ drink,
     They’re a’ in famous tune
          For crack that day.

How monie hearts this day converts
     O’ sinners and o’ lasses
Their hearts o’ stane, gin night, are gane
     As saft as ony flesh is.
There’s some are fou o’ love divine,
     There’s some are fou o’ brandy;
An’ monie jobs that day begin,
     May end in houghmagandie
          Some ither day.

The spider Queen, aloofly vain!
She rules a silent ruthless reign,
with black-bead eyes like pearls of rain
that damp the depths of her demesne.
          .
                     .
                                .
A spider spins, with nimble feet,
a sticky web of grim deceit
that drapes the corners, dark, discreet,
in catacombs of her retreat.

Her jointed legs (in number, eight)
traverse the threads with stilted gait,
but often more she'll lie in wait
within the hub of her estate.

Shy spiders live their lives alone
ensconced within a silky throne;
unless a transient guest comes flown,
their lives bide empty, monotone.
          .
                     .
Well, now and then, a sullen breeze
may twitch the toils, begin to tease –
yet nothing's caught and nothing pleas,
so patience's bid  at times like these.

But then again, when stars ignite,
may maunder by a gnat, by night,
be taught a dance, a writhing rite,
within a lace of death, wrapped tight.

Sometimes a spider's in the mood
and waits awhile, whilst being wooed –
and then, to later feed her brood,
the widow slays her mate for food.

In time a spider dies, 'tis true,
bequeathing but a residue
entwined, devoid of retinue,
in fibers decked in silver dew.
          .
                     .
                                .
One asks "What purpose serves the GNAT –
to feed and make the spider fat?
Well, 'tis perchance just naught but that
within a mindless habitat.
          .
                     .
"Yet, what's the aim?” you may inquire,
“at the heart of MAN's desire.
To which goals should WE aspire
reaching high and reaching higher?"

We've, through the ages, left the mire,
trundling wheels and taming fire,
doing deeds that must inspire,
nursing needy, calming crier, …

Such things as these, most may admire:
          - placid dove and war defier
            (some are bolder, some are shyer)
          - patience (mess-up mollifier);

          - humankind (Life's justifier)
          - charity (charmed self-denier)
          - tolerance (proud pacifier )
          - love of Life (folk unifier).


What more could we, as flesh, require?
Needless kneeling neath the spire?
Childish chanting in the choir?
Preaching hell's impending pyre?


No, Death's the only rectifier,
comes the instant we expire,
nothing after, sentience prior.

So, treasure Life and don't deny Her.

While I gaze in your eyes, cool cerulean blue,
Sifting night, straining stars through morning’s sweet dew,
I can fathom the depths of empyreal skies,
Angels fluttering by, riding wild butterflies

While I gaze in your eyes, changing, aqua-blue greening,
I’m ****** into chasms, cascading, careening,
And yield to enticements which meekly disarm,
Seeping virtuous beauty, sad sensuous charm

While I gaze in your eyes, bleeding fiery blue
Ever tempting with treasures, with pleasures for two,
Being caught at the core of a blazing sapphire
Possessing, enthralling, aflame with desire

While I gaze in your eyes, misty emeralds, deep green,
Veiling laughter and banter, and echoes between,
Then I dream, so it seems, in whatever the place,
Of your scent, of your breath, of your radiant face

While I gaze in your eyes, at times placidly blue,
Near’ as calm as the weirs in the woods all bedewed,
Forty winks relegate to a shimmering lake,
Gently floating on lilies, while waiting to wake

While I gaze in your eyes, caught engulfed in the greens
And consigning my fate unto verdant ravines,
My reactions, at length, become shyer and shyer
Reminiscent of ravens at risk in the briar

While I gaze in your eyes, restless, hesitant blues
Overwhelming sensations with turbulent hues,
I’m succumbing to waves of a storm battered sea,
Being cast like a plank, never meant to be free

While I gaze in your eyes, shadowed, Midnight Lake green
Glowing hazy with dreams, misty thoughts so serene,
Sudden silence befalls me, a fast sinking stone,
Looming lost in your eyes, I am never alone

While I gaze in your eyes, saddened, lachrymal blue,
Spilling trickles of rain, pearls obscuring your view,
I’ll attend to your anguish and feelings morose,
Lightly kissing your tears, touching, holding you close

While I gaze in your eyes, pulsing infinite green
Of the earth and of heaven and all in between,
It is simple to see that my hands can hold all
Of the treasures I find which so humbly enthral

While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re bountifully blue,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning is granted to few...

While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re blindingly green,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning cannot be foreseen...

Yet I hope... and I wait...

I don’t always wash my hand when I ***. I am stubborn to the point of the ridiculous. I can’t understand people who don’t need their own space but at the same time I get lonely very easily. I narrate my own life like some kind of second rate soap opera. Sometimes I ******* out of sheer boredom but never *** because no matter how good it feels I am not really that interested. I get bored of people I am sleeping with very quickly. Even though I don’t like being in them I sometimes create ruts. I have very unhealthy relation ships with men and only ever fancy emotionally distant ******* with huge laundry lists of emotional problems because I am not wholly comfortable with being loved. I post pictures of my self semi naked on the internet because I like being desired without intimacy. I am terrified I am mentally defective like my great aunt Doris.  I hate my mother’s first name. I have always wanted to come from aristocratic stock and attend private school. I eat in bed. I use my size as an excuse so I don’t have to try to find love because then I would have to let someone in. I am scared of my manipulative side. I lie to well. I leave fresh flowers in their vase till they wilt and die because there is something morbidly beautiful about the sad crinkled mass it reminds me how closely linked we as humans are to our own mortality, I tell people I do it because they dry better that way. Sometimes I tell people things to appear more interesting than I am but when I tell the truth it is always more interesting, I still do it though. I am desperately afraid that if I do seek a psychological test I will be perfectly normal. I practise jokes in my head before I say them sometimes. I get scared when people expect me to share my own feelings or opinions and often make up ******* so I don’t have to divulge things. The shyer I am the louder I get. I once tried to jump off a bridge because of a boy. My parents ***** about each other to me, I just like the attention. My father has never directly told me he loves me. I hate sharing but because my mom instilled it in me as a child I find it ridiculously hard to say no. The more trivial something is about me the less likely I am to share it. I hate the feeling of puckering fingers after they have been in water and I always get angry doing the washing up. I got my first tattoo because I wanted to lay the artist. I eat with chopsticks because I don’t like getting food on my hands. I can be incredibly competitive and I hate myself for it. I like having beautiful friends. I google people I like (whether that be in a romantic or non romantic way). I am scared of never being a mother.

You ought to know Mr. Mistoffelees!
The Original Conjuring Cat—
(There can be no doubt about that).
Please listen to me and don’t scoff. All his
Inventions are off his own bat.
There’s no such Cat in the metropolis;
He holds all the patent monopolies
For performing suprising illusions
And creating eccentric confusions.
At prestidigitation
And at legerdemain
He’ll defy examination
And deceive you again.
The greatest magicians have something to learn
From Mr. Mistoffelees’ Conjuring Turn.
Presto!
Away we go!
And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

He is quiet and small, he is black
From his ears to the tip of his tail;
He can creep through the tiniest crack,
He can walk on the narrowest rail.
He can pick any card from a pack,
He is equally cunning with dice;
He is always deceiving you into believing
That he’s only hunting for mice.
He can play any trick with a cork
Or a spoon and a bit of fish-paste;
If you look for a knife or a fork
And you think it is merely misplaced—
You have seen it one moment, and then it is gawn!
But you’ll find it next week lying out on the lawn.

And we all say: OH!
Well I never!
Was there ever
A Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

His manner is vague and aloof,
You would think there was nobody shyer—
But his voice has been heard on the roof
When he was curled up by the fire.
And he’s sometimes been heard by the fire
When he was about on the roof—
(At least we all heard that somebody purred)
Which is incontestable proof
Of his singular magical powers:
And I have known the family to call
Him in from the garden for hours,
While he was asleep in the hall.
And not long ago this phenomenal Cat
Produced seven kittens right out of a hat!
And we all said: OH!
Well I never!
Did you ever
Know a Cat so clever
As Magical Mr. Mistoffelees!

he hooligans feet




you see the hooligans are trapping me down and down, making me feel, i am too shy

to be like anyone cool, and i don’t want this to happen, the reality is, my feet have fungus

but it could be the hooligans trapping me, making me believe that i8 will never be a family person

ever again, and another thing too, the fungus is building up on my feet, here is a song

the hooligans have trapped my feet hooray hooray

yeah they have trapped my feet hooray hooray

you see the hooligans have trapped me down, like i have been ******* by a terrorist, yeah

and i feel like i am hooligan forever and forever amen, oh lord

you see the hooligan is me back then, the me who wanted to destroy the world

by taking each boy away, so they couldn’t find a girl, my lord

you see i said ha ha ha, you oldies are going down

you see i am a mean dude, who needs to break away

and this hooligan stays in my body till i am too old for ***

yeah, the hooligans will hassle me, like my old pal rex

you see, how this hooligan will hassle me, by ripping the shyness out of me

i want the hooligan out of my body, but it’s so fucken hard

i want it out i want it out, but really i am too filthy yeah

i am hearing blackboards ghost my mate, ya see my previous life who was beheaded

and i remember being killed by a strange man named fred

well, him, he was crazy, but so am i

i hate everyone saying i am CRAZY, it drives me nuts

i hear these voices, saying come to the other side

and be my friend, yeah mate yeah, this would be the coolest thing

just like me, the coolest thing

and the hooligans have his legs tied and his arms tied

and every time he walks, his feet will be planted on the floor

like he has been trapped forever and ever amen

you see i was trying to be a hooligan to show my family that they are so shy

you see, keeping my legs planted on the floor, is to say, i am a cool kid

and i was protecting myself from the bad spirits

ya see if i tied myself up, or pushed my feet to the ground

i can tease my family forever

but this could turn nasty as some actual hooligans rob me, by saying your not a hooligan, mate

in a really angry voice, and i don’t want to rob banks or steal cars, no that ain’t for me

please don’t make me rob banks, i hate that kind of life

cause i close my eyes, and draw back the curtain to see for certain a budweiser beer

and all young people got drunk with me, yeah, how about you take your beer

and get the **** right out of here

you see i don’t know for sure if my feet are itchy, because i feel my hooligan coming back to me

or is it just, the fact that i am too nice for the real world, and the hooligans keep me in, young dude heaven, to protect me

with a clash of drums, a flash of light, my itchy feet became hooligan feet

i was floating off to darkness, please leave me alone

and i saw my dad, drinking a methane smoothie, that i left there for him to tip all over me

hey baby ooh yeah hey, i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

hey baby ooh yeah hey i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

you see brian allan is a family person, who doesn’t wanna rob banks cause they are bad

i know they are poor, and i know they are having heaps of problems, but hey baby ooh yeah, hey

i want to know if the hooligan will kidnap simon

you see people are treating me like a hooligan, i don’t want to be a hooligan

i am a family person, who has a lot of fun, yeah

why don’t these so called families leave me alone

you see, they are treating me like a hooligan, all because i was shyer than the so called teasing families

i am a family person, more so than them, i hate the hooligans trying to trap me under the families

so they can ask me to rob banks, I DON’T WANT TO ROB BANKS, I HATE EVERYONE TEASING ME

I AM NOT A HOOLIGAN, REALLY, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, WHO HAS, itchy hooligan feet

BECAUSE I MADE A MISTAKE IN LIFE

besieged by the sky,
my lungs have already burst.
never found the words.


i still drift nowhere,
first to find out I'm alone;
I would hate to hide.


the smell of honey
and lavender paints the walls
of mornings lost to...

Canberra people are shy ya know
Canberra people are shy ya know
They don’t want to do anything fun
You see they cancelled the lighting of the Christmas tree
No reason, Canberra Is just shy
You see they don’t like people doing vlogs
In their city because they feel very uneasy
Uneasy what a bunch of crap
Canberra people are just fucken shy
Canberra love being shy
I want this virus to end
So the government will let me *******
Maybe down to Adelaide
To do something fun
You see Canberra are fucken shy
They don’t want to do anything
Ya know I want fun I want fun
You see Canberra a hooligans
But not cool hooligans
Shy hooligans
And ya know who I hate
People who don’t want to take the jab
Especially when they want to travel
Canberra is just fucken boring
Nothing to do nothing to do
Nothing ever to do
Canberra a just a pack
Of shy hooligans
Because family people do what I do
I am a family person
I love life I never lose faith
I like fun
But Canberra people hate fun
They sit in their houses being
The old Scrooge
You see, the local pat’s a ******
The local Paul’s a drunk
The local Glenn grooms kids online
And the local Lyle is a ****
What do ya say what do ya say
The local Lyles a ****

Timid rays of the morning glow
Shy to step,out of the clouds
Shyer still, to fall into the arms
Of the darkness open wide.

Twilight waits with baited breath
For its moment of retreat,
can never be, until consummate
That  celestial celebrate.

Bashful now, and amorously
Those golden beams descend
And the twain does meet.
The light and night
Births new destiny.

As the twain in embrace dwells
Sublime their souls entwined.
Glorious light adorns the skies
While night closes his eyes.

Oh golden ray that filled my night,
Resplendent dazzling bright
Timidly tho you did step out
Of the clouds of wasted time.

Now you've filled my sky with light
My night has closed his eyes,
Warm embrace of your sanguine smiles
The luster of your laughter sprite.

Each day awakens and night goes by
Longs ever more for you.
My soul awaits your tender rays,
Your touch yea your embrace!

OUR LIKE US, BRIAN, ONE OF US


YOU SEE WHEN I WAS YOUNG I WAS KNOWN AS A LITTLE SHY BOY

WHO TRIED TO LIVE MY LIFE, BUT I FOUND IT HARD, BECAUSE I HAD DELLUSIONS

OF BEING TIED TO A STAKE, AND KILLED, ALL BECAUSE I WAS A TAD SHYER THAN

THE OTHER KIDS, IN FACT, I WANTED TO BE AS NICE AS PIE, BUT I HAD THESE

WEIRD PSYCHIATRICAL PARANORMAL DILLUSIONS, WHICH MADE ME **** MY FAMILY CAT

AND BE CARTED OFF TO THE PSYCH WARD, AS WELL AS GRABBING KIDS LEFT RIGHT AND CENTRE

ALL OVER CANBERRA IN THE 1980s, YOU SEE I HATED PEOPLE TEASING ME, AND I THOUGHT PEOPLE

WANTED TO SAY THAT I WAS STILL BEING HASSLED, I DON’T WANNA BE HASSLED DUDES, THEY JUST

WANNA SAY, I AM HASSLING BRIAN, THAT SOUNDS SO RAD, AND DESPITE HOW MUCH HE TRIED, DAD NEVER HELPED ME

HE SEEMED TO GET CRANKY MORE THAN ANYTHING, , THAT WEIRD VOICE OF YOUR LIKE ME AND MUMMY BRIAN

AND YOUR ONE OF THE ADULTS BRIAN, IS FUCKEN DOWNGRADING, DAD THOUGHT HE WAS HELPING, BUT INSTEAD

HE DOWNGRADED ME TO BEING SHY, PLEASE, NOBODY PUSH ME DOWN TO BEING SHY, NO MATTER HOW COOL IT LOOKS

I KNOW I WAS LIKE A SHY HOOLIGAN WHEN I WAS A KID, LIKE PLAY COOL FOR LITTLE FAMILY KIDS WHEN I WAS WITH MY MATES,

I STILL COULD HAVE BEEN CURED FASTER IF DAD WASN’T AS ANGRY WITH ME, BUT HOPEFULLY DAVID AND LISA CAMPBELL

CAN CALM THE SOUL AND MAKE THEIR DAUGHTER A NORMAL KID, AND HER PREVIOUS LIFE OF MY DAD, CAN WASH DOWN

ALL OF HIS OLD FOGIE NONSENSE FROM HER SPIRIT, BUT DAD WASN’T PERFECT, MUMS NOT PERFECT, MY BROTHER ISN’T PERFECT

I AM NOT PERFECT, MY OLD SCHOOL MATES AIN’T PERFECT, EVEN IF I A LOOKING AT KIDS MOO COW AND SHIPS, I AM NOT GOING

TO HARM THE KIDS, I LIKE KIDS, BUT IN THE 80s, I WAS MORE STUPID, THAN 2013, MUMMIE DEAREST, AND I HATE BEING LOCKED

IN A PSYCH WARD WITH THE CRAZY PEOPLE, EVEN IF I HAD VISIONS I WAS A CRAZY PERSON, CAUSE I FOUGHT MY DAD AND TEASED MUM

ONCE I PUT A RUBBER SPIDER ON MUM, BUT MUM AND DAD, WERE HAVING ISSUES, WHICH MADE THEM BE TWO SHY ADULTS, THEY HELPED ME

BUT THEY WERE TWO SHY ADULTS, THE ONLY HELPING THEY DID, WAS GIVE ME A HAPPY FAMILY, BUT THEY ARE NEGATIVE ABOUT MY FUTURE

WHICH DRIVES ME CRAZY, I WOULD LOVE TO HAVE A JOB, IN ANOTHER CITY, BUT, MUM IS TOO HELL BENT, ON NOT FUNDING, BECAUSE SHE WANTS

ME TO FEND FOR MYSELF, I DON’T WANT THESE YOUNG DUDES TO WIN THEIR BATTLE WITH ME, I HATED THOSE YOUNG DUDES, THEY ARE GETTING

INTO MY HEAD, IN THE FORM OF MY MATE PAT, SO DAD, GO TO WORK ON THE FUTURE AS ELIZABETH CAMPBELL, LEARN DAD LEARN, BETTY

I FELT KIDNAPPED WHEN I WAS ON RISPERIDAL, WHERE THE CHIPS KEPT ME IN OLD FOGIE TERRITORY, AND MY CARER ANDREW WANTED ME CONVERTED

OVER TO HIS WAY OF THINKING, AND I POINTED OUT JOHN THE BAPTIST BEING AN EVIL MAN, HE WAS, BUT DON’T TELL MUM.

I LOVE BEING CREATIVE WITH ART AND WRITING AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINING, AND I LIKED THE COMFORTABLE LOUNGES IN NIGHTCLUBS AS I DANCED

TO SONGS LIKE JOEY FROM CONCRETE BLONDE, MY MATE DITCHED ME, I DANCED TO TINA ARENAS  I NEED YOUR BODY, AND OTHER GREAT SONGS

BUT I STILL LIKED LOOKING AT THE MOO COW AND SHIP FORMATIONS ON KIDS LEGS, BUT I LIKE KIDS

I FEEL KIDS HATE ME NOW, BECAUSE, I REPORTED KIDS TYING THEMSELVES UP ON YOUTUBR, DUDE, THAT CAN BE DANGEROUS FOR THE KID, IT CAN

ENCOURAGE HOOLIGANISM AND PHEDAPHELIA, AND I CARE A LOT MORE ABOUT KIDS SAFETY, IF ANY PHEDAPHILE OR HOOLIGAN, SEES KIDS SUFFERING

AFTER BEING ******* ON YOUTUBE, THEY WILL START TO LURE THE KIDS INTO THEI CARS,

STOP TYING YOURSELVES UP ON YOUTUBE, LITTLE DUDES, IT AIN’T COOL, AND I AM SPEAKING AS THE PRINCE OF COOL

YOU SEE THE REASON WHY I WENT TO THE HOSPITAL, DUDES, IS MENTAL HEALTH SAY I AM WELL, AND I WASN’T GETTING ANY HELP, BUT BOTH TIMES

I ACCEPTED HELP, PLEASE MENTAL HEALTH, I AM WATCHING STORIES ABOUT DELLUSIONAL BEHAVIOUR ON YOUTUBE, PLEASE DON’T FUCKEN FALSE HOPE

ESPECIALLY IF I HIT BIG TIME AGAIN, AND I WILL, I ALWAYS WANT A CASE WORKER TO KEEP ME OUT OF THE CRAZY PSYCH WARD


H       E       L       P       M       E        D        U       D      E      S

My heart
it goes a pitter-pat
When you
you look at me like that
I feel
your warmth that radiates
Your some-
someone I cannot hate
But You,
are shyer than sky blue
You,
are beautiful and true
Do I deserve You?
Do I deserve you?
I don't think it's true,
So what do I do?

If I revealed, in genuine, the depths of my desire,

I’d understand your hesitance, you likely would be shyer.

So I should lie wholeheartedly. But should I? Would I try,

if knowing that there’s one way through – by seeing eye to eye –

and we misstep. There’s nothing left, but dignity. Why lie

when dominance, incontinence are falling rather flat

(just like you) is pretty now at least you aren’t fat.

Tomorrow marks June 2nd.

For me it is the day I find out if I have been accepted into the School of Journalism.

For her, it is the day she finds out the *** of her child.

I remember freshman year we became friends. She was skinnier than me, and shyer too. Always lookin' mean, but I saw her smile and she let me see her smile all the time.

Now the hidden sweet girl will be someone's mother soon.
I hope she let's her child see her smile too.

If I wait to finish my
chores,
to finish my food
all the tiny
notifiers to my superego,
my id
would wither
music, writing, commiserating,
and commiserating
eight-fold path that could
fit in my pocket

I can play
Make children with songs
that have been inside me
half a lifetime
when I picked up an axe
14 year old me
Shyer in most ways
but bolder
in interesting ways
I walked the path
humming 4 noble truths
in between theses

erratic days
I lived a myriad of lives
I fear it’s all
swirling to be the same
Circles within samsara
used to last for
months now I’m stuck for
years
and I no longer
wish to become
unconditioned

My keyboard makes music out of my tears
With ever fear I feel and every smile I bring
With the madness that takes me
With the rage I sing

Like she once said
It's not easy to read to them what's in my head
So we write it instead...
While we grip to our beds

I'm stuck okay,
I don't need to tell them how deep I'm in this
Rapid fire, dancing liars, a choir of fire
I couldn't get shyer, my pleas will be dire

With my sensitivity
My emotions exploding
My complicated thinking
My heart that's bleeding

You know what...fudge it
I try and I cry and I even ask why
But when does it matter
I know we all feel the weight...










But why do they diminish what makes my soul ache
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

.
.
.
.

.

But its okay

I don't have much else to say

I'm going to continue to play the silent game

I see no darkness

I hear no bitterness

I speak nothing heartless

Evil does not run me

Why let it run them?

I can't stop wondering what could've been
If I was braver, if you were shyer
Something in my soul tells me that we fit like puzzle pieces
I feel it in the way we speak with glances
The way your body shifts and moves closer when I'm near
The way the colour blue reminds me of your eyes and warms my heart
There's something about the way you say my name soft but sure
Like you're tasting every letter
I don't know if we still have time.

after much thought, Jack, and much watching,
I must say that I disagree:
while no, we must not wait for her silvery flashes,
you cannot chase her down with a club, I fear.

she is the timidest of all fragile creatures,
mist-fine, shyer than summer snow;
she bruises easily, for she is tender & swelled with the magic we seek.

she will not be hunted, she is sharper than us
she will hide over horizons beyond our ken
she will slipslide into darknesses we cannot reach
beyond saltwater, stars, ends and beginnings

she is the heartbeat of the butterfly,
she chases gold along the edges of our reality
she is a mirage and so painfully real
you cannot pursue such a creature with the brutality of mortal force.

coax her. let the strains of sound like raindrops of starlight play.
close your eyes. her whispers will be faint,
almost faded, but when you hear them --
a soulquake of colours, like the most miraculous of sunrises,
the most peaceful and blessed of firestained sunsets.

assure her. approach her as an equal, another magical being:
flutter your wings, sharpen your fangs, weave webs with her.
play her music, offer her gifts, offer her your open heart.

she will wait. behind every blockage, she will wait.
embrace her frail form, and she will turn the world
into all the wonders you've ever dreamed.
because she subsists on your dreams;
this is a two-soul spinning dance.

People have told me
For every year since I could talk,
That when you find THE ONE,
You'll forget your own name.

But if I forget how to talk,
How can you help me sing?
If I forget how to breathe,
How can I laugh?

If my heart skips a beat,
Will you make sure it doesn't **** me?
If the butterflies get too out of hand,
Will you be there to get rid of them?

If my voice shakes,
Usually, I'm scared.
If I'm shyer around you than without,
You're probably not THE ONE for me.

I need my heart to stay steady,
And butterflies in my stomach make me nauseous.
Lucky for me,
I have someone who will sit with me until fear leaves.

Someone who will stand and watch changing fall colors,
Or debate about the more beautiful sunset,
Someone who listens and responds,
Even when I think I'm too quiet.

I have someone who I can tease,
Someone who teases me back.
I have someone who makes me laugh
Instead of taking my breath away.

I have someone who lifts me up,
And I'd trade that for THE ONE any day.

i.
and love and you. i loved your old car, and your name for it. it was so clever. you're so clever and unique and i'm holding your hand and we're unique. what do you mean? i mean, we're different from the rest. we just are. we have to be. because it's you and me. and rainy cities at night aren't sloppy and slushy and blurry and grey. they're beautiful blue. deep blue, mazarine blue, and the street lights are backdrops for our shadows. our shadows and the puddles in the street. we walk through the puddles and you don't mind, because you like my rain boots. and i like you. your eyes are big and brown and sweet and round, and i'm looking at you, and you're looking at me. because here's looking at you when we fall onto the sand at the beach it's okay because when we fall, we fall together and that is our streetlight manifesto.

ii.
when i walk through a new city at night, it's full of noise and movement. but i am alone. i pass quickly by. i pass old streetlights and memories. i close my eyes and blink away it all. i don't go to the beach anymore. the sand fills my shoes and it rubs at all those old memories. and old cars seem like they really only belong in movies. and now i collapse onto just a bed in a building.

iii.
knowing more and thinking different. because you are different. shyer and sweeter but with the shaky hands i seem to be drawn to. and i draw you. and i on a park bench singing songs from bands we pass from ear to ear. candy wrappers at the library and frosties past my twelve. this is different and i am older. you are not him. and i know you and i know differently now. but you are familiar like the rainy roads i’ve always sped down and you are sweet like the candy you keep in your pockets. i'm going to try to inhale you all at once.

iv.
it hurt so much. so differently than ever before.

v.
you were unlike the rest. and by the rest, i only mean two.
you weren't very quiet. and you were suspicious of everyone
the first time i saw you look at me. and i mean
right
at
me
you thought you took me all in, in that moment. but i was the one who took you in, all of you, completely, for good.

vi.
for you, i was a shadow. i am your shadow; i am always here for you, and also always here behind you. i can no longer say i’m older and know better with pride. when i say i'm older, it escapes as a sigh when i look out of my new window into the same rainy streets. i have less to say but more to remember. like where i have to draw the line. when i am drawn to you but now when i draw a line i don’t draw you.

boy asked me to
the prom. Back then I had acne thick
as bread pudding, was chubby
as a house cat, and shyer than
a doormat.

Not one
of my friends asked
me to be their bridesmaid. Maybe
they were afraid of the way
I’d behave. Even though I was sweet
as a brioche I didn’t have much gauche.

Not one
person bought my last
poetry book. After all the time
it took to put the **** together
I was beginning to feel
like an unopened letter, the kind
that’s stamped “return to sender”

Righteous Wrath

The wrath that rises, fierce and bright,
Burns the Darkness from the mind —
From their “tree of knowing” blight
And the chaos left behind.

Since your childhood they’ve been shoving
All their filth into your head,
Just to break the will of thinking —
Till your inner voice is dead.

Once it’s gone, you swallow blindly
All their dogmas, call them “thought.”
Genius chokes — not accidentally,
Slime was bred and slime was taught.

It now spreads across the nations,
Feeds on minds like savage yeast —
Just a trap with fake salvation,
Free cheese — for the PRISON feast.

Exceptions? Rare. And that’s the glue
That holds the grand deceit intact.
Slime and chaos shape the stew
Where dumb sheep are bred in fact.

Madness reigns. The world’s infected.
Not with people — but with herds.
And the sparks of mind — neglected,
Crushed by ever-darkening words.

But righteous wrath restores the balance:
Mind beneath the Spirit’s flame.
Left or right? That’s sold-out malice.
Only fools play in that game.



---------------------




1.
Righteous rage will clear the brain —
Slime and dogmas die in flame.

2.
Free cheese breeds the prison herd.
**** the lie. Unchain the word.

3.
Mind must kneel to Spirit’s call,
Or the herds will eat us all.

4.
Chaos fed you since the crib —
Now you’re nothing but a script.

5.
The wrath that burns is pure and just —
Crush the slime. Betray the dust.



---------------------




Mind must kneel to Spirit’s call,
Or the herds will eat us all.
Slime will crown the priest of lies —
And the world will rot in guise.



---------------------



The Shrinking World in Idiotic Minds

The world is shrinking — now insane,
A schizoid stares with fractured brain.
No need for Darkness to breed swine —
Just flood the world with lies — they’ll dine.

A mass of fools, the walking glitch,
Are now the norm — not some rare twitch.
In this low world of fraud and rot,
The BEASTS reign high. And think? They do not.

Control is grey — dull scheming thread.
The “president” is just brain-dead.
They herd the masses with a meme,
Then drive them into death’s machine.

The slaughter's planned, it’s not a whim,
Just like a city’s building scheme.
First — spread the stench through every screen,
Then — send the sheep to **** and scream.

The “enemy” — a media toy,
Designed for hate, consumed with joy.
They lie with speed, with perfect form —
A flawless, mind-erasing storm.

Stupidity’s industrial.
The media’s the holy hall.
Obey the lie — that’s now divine,
In this World's Decay Asylum shrine.



---------------------




1.
Lies now breed the perfect slave —
Marching blind into the grave.

2.
The media builds your "enemy" —
Then sends your kids to butchery.

3.
Obey the lie — adore the screen.
That’s how they wipe your mind clean.

4.
The beast won’t need eugenics now —
Just memes and fear — and you’ll bow.

5.
The idiot's world is sharp and small —
No thoughts allowed. Just march or fall.



---------------------



The Swarm

A mesh on the window —
Icon of dread.
The spit of the BEASTS
Can leave you half-dead.

One bite, and you’re fading —
They’re everywhere.
What’s the swarm’s name?
It’s “Judas,” I swear.

Their poison is lies,
Their needles are skilled.
The mob is insane —
And eager to ****.

They've stung you since birth,
These Judases swarm.
No cure on this earth
For filth in that form.

They’re countless — they grow,
Their faces seem meek,
So you won’t feel the blow
Till you’re too weak

To run. And there's nowhere
To hide from the spread:
This madness is airborne —
And all minds are dead.



---------------------




1.
They bite with lies, inject with dread —
You smile — and soon, you're brain-dead.

2.
Judas swarms in meek disguise —
Sweet their voice, but poison lies.

3.
No cure for beasts that wear your face —
They smile, then **** without a trace.

4.
Since birth you're stung by Judas flies —
And fed on sweet, infectious lies.

5.
The swarm grows silent, smooth, and slick —
One bite — and thinking makes you sick.



---------------------



Out-Goebbeling Goebbels

Big-mouth fools and brainless hacks,
March ahead — no turning back!
Europe rots, but don't you fear —
A New **** Order’s drawing near.

A frail and gutless crowd obeys,
With slavery etched deep in bone.
We need a Führer — cold and crazed —
We love to serve. Just throw us tone.

Lie to us — but make it slick.
Scare us too, and do it quick.
The present stinks, it rots away,
But “Future” shines — a cheap display.

The herd can’t tell it’s bait, not fate,
They chase the trap with fishlike faith.
That "brighter future"? Always fake —
Just meat to lure us to our wraith.

And like a fish, we soon forget —
The hook is past, the bait is set.
The Führerlings rise, big and bold —
All they need? Just lies well told.

So lie! Lie louder, with more bile —
Out-Goebbels Goebbels with your style.
Lie meaner, leaner, make it raw —
Until there’s nothing left but jaw.



---------------------




1.
Out-Goebbels him — just lie and yell,
And lead the herd straight back to hell.

2.
Lie smoother. Lie with sharper teeth.
The crowd kneels down — the Führer breathes.

3.
The filth ascends, the thought is gone —
Just lie like hell — and march them on.

4.
"Future" glows — a rotten bait.
The mob forgets. The lies dictate.

5.
The more you lie, the more they cheer.
Truth is dead. The Führer’s near.



---------------------



The Shrinking Space of Inner Freedom

Youth — a vast and endless field,
Where thought and fire refused to yield.
The mind was fresh, the spirit wide —
But storms of "life" now start to slide.

The world contracts — the RUTINE grinds in,
And year by year it wraps you thin.
"Be a real man!" they bark and preach —
Forget your dreams. Stay out of reach.

Some fool obsessed with counting cash
Becomes “the man” — a walking trash.
He drops the Light of youth for gain,
And trades his joy for drudge and chain.

There is a line this shrinking draws:
Beyond it — rot and mindless laws.
A shell remains, the core is dead —
Was that what teenhood dreamed and bred?

But worst of all — you will not feel
This tightening grip, this slow-wound seal.
You will not fall — no, that’s too clear.
Just dullness creeping year by year.

And as your world grows small and fake,
The mind clings harder to the ache.
Loud compensation floods your head —
More noise, the more your soul is dead.

A Porsche won’t fix the inward drought
If your own thought has been burned out.
No path expands for those gone numb —
Who traded fire for chewing gum.

Only creation holds the key
To stop this inner mutiny.
There is no horror more obscene
Than daily rot and dumb routine.



---------------------




1.
Youth was fire, now it’s rust —
Trapped inside your own lost trust.

2.
The world shrinks, your mind gets tight —
Routine steals your inner light.

3.
No Porsche saves a caged mind’s cry —
Only art can break the lie.

4.
Dullness creeps, your soul’s undone —
Creation fights until it’s won.



---------------------



New Year’s Aggravation

“A dwarf was born — the New Year’s child,
A hunchback, wrinkled, ugly, wild,
A gloomy jester, skeptic’s part,
A sage afflicted in his heart.

‘So this is dear God’s shining light?
Where’s the sun? There’s none in sight!
Well, I’m no first to see the show —
No need to spoil my nerves, you know.’”

— Sasha Chorny, 1908


This “New” Year’s psychosis brings
A comfort faint to suffering things —
A world so tired of its rot,
Where ******* cruelty is the lot.

As norm, while purity, reason, truth,
Belong to outcasts — lost in youth.
The others howl in hateful chords:

Fascism frightens, so the horde
Defecates and follows blind,
To wars and “healing” of the mind —
Decay is everywhere defined.

Not long we’ll greet this “New” Year’s call —
Armageddon nears for all.
A punishment for those who broke
The Spirit’s flame — their final yoke.



---------------------




1.
New Year’s dwarf, a twisted lie —
No sun will light this poisoned sky.

2.
Fascist fear makes sheep obey —
Decay devours the light away.

3.
Armageddon’s at the door —
For spirits crushed, forevermore.

4.
The world rots, the fools cheer loud —
The New Year’s curse, a choking cloud.



---------------------



Slavery in the Gloom

Petty passions, narrow minds,
Crafty tricks of all designs.
Lies surge like a crashing wave —
Ninth wave burying the brave.

Bickering plots and heavy chains,
All within the mind’s dark plains.
Where’s the uprising? None in sight —
Slavery cloaked in shadowed night.

The gloom conceals, the children taught
To dull their minds in “school” for naught.
True Freedom’s thought is wiped away —
They’re trained to chew, obey, obey.

Work for crumbs, stay gray and blind,
Be the drone that won’t unwind.
Preserve your place, don’t stray, don’t think —
In the global camp’s iron clink.

Few resist, but evil’s wall
Blocks all cracks — ideas fall.
Yet the end approaches fast,
If you’ve reached the bottom’s grasp.

Explosion breaks the darkened chain —
Freedom comes through death and pain.
Out with rot, out with decay —
The last fight starts — no more delay.



---------------------




1.
Slavery’s chains are forged in mind —
Break the gloom, leave rot behind.

2.
In the camp of global lies,
Only death can free the wise.

3.
Few will rise against the wall,
But the rotten must soon fall.

4.
Darkness binds, but fire will wake —
Freedom burns with every break.



---------------------



Childhood and the "Education" Program

A pure, clean slate — defiled and marred,
They crap upon it, cold and hard.
All programs built by hidden foes —
A secret worm that no one knows.

This worm ***** dry the vital juice,
Poisons bodies, dulls the use.
Stupidity timed to arrive —
The child awaits fascist drive.

Freaks made stupid fill the ranks,
The majority that never thanks.
No one left to fight the dark,
Where darkness triumphs, leaves its mark.

The media finishes the job —
Turns the masses into blobs.
Two thirds fools in “people’s” name,
Lost in lies and shallow fame.

Work “for the master” seals the deal,
Dulling minds to numb and kneel.
Three quarters crushed beneath the press —
Non-humans in total stress.

CowID showed who wears the mask —
Fools who serve vile beasts, their task.
Slavery and gloom their fate —
Trapped inside this poisoned state.



---------------------




1.
A pure mind smeared and torn apart —
The worm of lies infects the heart.

2.
Fools wear masks and serve the beast —
Slavery’s grip will never cease.

3.
Two thirds fools, one world enslaved —
The program’s done, the herd’s been shaved.

4.
Work for masters, dull your spark —
Become a drone lost in the dark.



---------------------



The Mechanisms of Ego

“Grasping mechanisms” —
That’s most minds’ core disease.
The first step down to cretinism —
The triumph of crude ease.

You ****** at anything thrown your way —
But ****’s slipped in so fast.
In all this grasping, soul is lost —
And **** itself will last.

It does not ****, but lets you rot,
With honey-coated lies.
The Spirit’s rot will spread inside —
And very few are wise.

To identify with the “mechanism” —
What Earth calls ego’s reign —
Is to be crushed by matter’s hand:
Your Spirit ground to grain.

Ego and Spirit swing like seesaws —
One rises, one falls below.
From birth, the beasts spit nonsense lies —
From gloom, it’s time to grow.

Introspection helps, though scorned
By pseudo-science cults.
It strengthens resistance to the lies
Sold by corrupted dolts.

Look within for all answers —
But that is not the ego —
That’s Pure Spirit, long forbidden
By Satan’s servile show.

So they shove Freud and twisted tales
To guard the ******’s throne —
To keep the “people” weak and dumb —
Forever silent, alone.



---------------------




1.
Ego grasps — the soul decays,
Spirit crushed in dark malaise.

2.
Not the ego, but the Light —
Seek within to win the fight.

3.
They sell Freud’s lies to keep us dumb,
While cretins beat their silent drum.

4.
Ego’s grip is prison bars —
Break free, rise beyond the stars.



---------------------



All Is Well!!!

“All is well” — they crave the pill
Of sugary lies that dull the will.
The only trouble’s in the start —
Laziness grips the stagnant heart.

Only in deserts do mirages rise —
But progress? Full of empty lies.
The TV box and press conspire —
The pioneers of zombified mire.

Old pioneers with fading eyes
Are fed new tales — historical lies.
“All is well” — we’ll conquer fear,
And march into a “world so clear.”

Metabolisms fixed, we’ll gorge and thrive —
Training ourselves to “heal” and survive.
We wait in anxious, eager throng —
Each one ready to chomp along.

.............................................
...........­..................................

“All is well” — the marching call,
In that brave new world for all.
The guard on watch, from his high place,
Shouts freedom’s lie to the enslaved race.



---------------------




1.
“All is well!” the liars shout —
While freedom’s flame burns out.

2.
Pills of lies to dull the pain —
Marching blind into the chain.

3.
The guard’s voice cracks the sky —
“All is well!” — enslaved comply.

4.
Mirages feed the lazy mind —
True progress left far behind.



---------------------



Burning Bridges

The moment comes — a choice to make:
To cut loose ties, to break or fake.
Removing problems, clearing space —
Testing mind, and Spirit’s grace.

The key is sharp precision’s art —
To forge a path, to not depart.
If something blocks your vital drive,
Burn bridges down — keep dreams alive!

Burning bridges serves us well —
They leak the strength where shadows dwell.
Burn boldly — leave behind the slips
That trap you in your fears and dips.

Through bridges, lies have always passed —
False “news” from courts of shadows cast.
Crowds fell through bridges, one by one,
If you stand firm, you’re not alone.

Few find sense in this world’s grime —
Idiots blinded all the time.
The weight of choices made impress —
When all your power frees to bless.

No longer drained by tangled cords,
Creativity soars towards.



---------------------




1.
Burn the bridges — cut the chains,
Break the past, embrace new plains.

2.
No more lies through bridges come —
Burn them down, and beat the drum.

3.
Fear and doubt fall with the flame —
Burn the bridges, shed the shame.

4.
Choose your path — no turning back,
Burn the bridges, clear the track.



---------------------



Negentropy

If you stumble —
Rise up higher!
Or you’ll crumble —
Quiet as a shyer.

Energy’s path —
Not just storing.
Burn it up —
The fear’s restoring.

It’ll come back strong —
Negentropy’s fire.
Don’t be a fool —
Find other ways higher,

To multiply the Light
Within your soul,
Expel the madness
That would take control.

From childhood on,
The madness pounds,
Say “NO!” to Darkness —
That’s the only sound.

Soar up where
The climb is steep —
Centuries of work
For the peak to keep.

Rise turns to flight —
In a single spark.
The summit waits —
Reach out through the dark.

One true meaning,
No foolish lies.
Trapped in Hell —
The last fool dies.



---------------------




1.
Fall — rise higher, never small.
Negentropy will break your fall.

2.
Burn the fear, ignite the flame —
Light within will stake your claim.

3.
Say “No!” to darkness’ lies —
Fly beyond, where summit lies.

4.
Madness traps the fool in hell —
Only truth can break the spell.



---------------------



Mukti (Liberation)

A "Path" with no true way,
"Thoughts" without the Spirit’s sway...
Going to the camp? —
Die, you *******, die today!

The Sun will burn
The madhouse whole —
Every freak will perish,
Dead beyond control.

The light is shining now:
Results for all the ****.
Though they lie like “demigods,”
Their reign is over, done.

To hell with lies,
To hell with fiends!
Mukti’s light will blaze
For subtle beings.

Save your soul:
Fight the Hell,
Don’t despair,
Don’t rot with Hell’s shell.



---------------------




1.
Pathless path, no spirit’s light —
Die, foul *******, lose the fight!

2.
Sun will scorch the madhouse vile —
Every freak will die in style.

3.
Lies and fiends will burn away —
Mukti’s light will break the gray.

4.
Save your soul, fight Hell’s decay —
Don’t rot, don’t kneel, don’t fade away.



---------------------



Direct Vision

A transmission beyond words or script,
Pure Insight’s truth, no mind’s tight grip.
The end of Reason’s tortured reign,
The needle where the Deathless wane.

Darkness rules the conscious plane,
Fed from childhood, strong its chain.
It spoils our genes, forgetfulness
Drags souls beneath, into distress.

But first attune your “receiver” fine —
Turn on your courage, trust the sign.
To flee the stinking nursery’s grip,
Find kindred spirits — and equip

The means of link, the sacred way.
There’s much to do — no easy sway.
If you give in, all hope is lost —
The fiend and dread will claim their cost.



---------------------




1.
Tune your soul, ignite the light —
Escape the dark, begin the fight.

2.
Beyond the mind, pure vision flows —
The path to truth is what you chose.

3.
Darkness binds from earliest days —
Stand firm, resist, break free always.

4.
Give up — and lose to fear and spite.
Fight on — reclaim your inner sight.



---------------------



Outsider

Forever strange,
Forever lone —
Such is your road...
But if you’re not
A fool or beast,
You’ll leave behind
This cursed feast —

This hellish plague
Of lies and fear...
If not a ****,
You’ll find it clear:
You’ll leave the town —
A row of sins —
This vile zoo —
Where chaos wins!



---------------------



Manifest of the Outsider

You’re always alien — never home,
A stranger walking paths alone.
But if you’re not a fool or fiend,
Escape this plague, this cursed scene.

Leave behind the city’s shame,
Where lies and terror stake their claim.
This vile zoo, this prison’s grip,
Where virtues drown and morals slip.

Refuse the herd, the brutal tide,
Stand firm with truth your only guide.
Break free from chains of rot and pain —
Reclaim your soul, begin again!

The world’s a pit of twisted sins,
But change begins when one begins.
Be that spark — the fire, the sword —
The outsider wielding the Word.



---------------------



Fear and Frailty

Chip and Dale rush to aid,
Cipollino’s fired, unafraid.
Among the bipeds — fear and frail,
Those bipeds only wait and wail.

They pray and hope for this to fall,
Satan’s gaze upon them all.
So many fiends, so black and cold,
No gallows enough to hold.

They’d hang them all in courtyards bare,
If fascism burns through despair,
Reducing half the world to dust —
A scorched earth ruled by hate and rust.



---------------------



Sophistry

The tool of endless word deceit —
The tongue, so sharp with lies complete.
All tricks refined by Judas’ hand,
By bogus scholars’ cursed band.

The world’s madhouse built so fast,
With "school" as base to dull the past.
The feeble minds are reshaped to fit
A Satan’s plan, a vile writ.

They flood the earth with total lies,
Like cesspools filled with filthy cries.
To **** is easy — just one lie,
Cut off the truth, let freedom die.

The traitor-scholar, clownish fake,
No retreat — forever sold his stake.
Once a whiner, now fascist’s beast,
A fading man, a monster’s feast.

Around, the zombies rule the day,
Few wise remain, soon swept away.
Soon prisons, bombs forgotten be —
A global camp built by fools, you see.



---------------------



Manifesto Against Sophistry

Words have been twisted into chains,
Tongues sharpened to spread deceits and pains.
Crafted lies from Judas’ hand,
Built a madhouse across the land.

“Schools” turned minds to empty shells,
Rewired souls into Satan’s spells.
Flooded with lies, a cesspool of rot,
Freedom’s flame crushed, truth forgot.

Traitors in labs and clowns in power,
Forever sold, they rule this hour.
Once weak voices now fascist beasts,
Monsters feeding on reason’s feast.

Zombies swarm where wisdom fades,
A world enslaved in dark charades.
Prisons and bombs soon lost to time —
A global camp built on fools’ crime.

Rise up! Break free from their snare!
Reject the lies, breathe freer air!
Fight the plague of blind deceit —
Or watch the fall of all you meet.



---------------------



Democratic Crap-ism

“Benefit” for all the crapocracy,
And petty grassroot “humanism” spree —
Preachers of doom and traitor’s chant,
Injecting Judeo-fascist rant.

They sell it “democratic” — pure trash,
Feeding fools a lying mash.
Tactful dulling of every mind —
So much nonsense, it’s world gone blind.

The globe’s a madhouse pizza place —
Even “Pizza Gate” has found its space!
All lies adorned in cheap disguise,
Fake science fuels this evil rise.

The peak of madness, democratic styled —
******, Goebbels spin, reviled.
Insanity now normal, plain —
Two thirds fools and crazed insane... It’s all in vain.



---------------------



Alchemy

Take pauses often in your mind:
Lies and slanders everywhere you find.
Since childhood, reactive, not your own,
Judgments rushed, hyperactive, overblown.

Within yourself, the answers dwell —
If you just pause, break the spell.
You’ll see the freaks, the liars’ play,
Expose the falsehoods, clear the way.

Critical mind and soul’s alchemy —
A direct gaze inside, you see.
It changes all, makes spirits pure,
Your hell’s resistance, strong and sure.



---------------------



Manifesto of the Inner Alchemist

Pause — take space within your mind,
Amidst the lies and noise unkind.
From childhood’s grip, reactive chains,
Break free from all the rash refrains.

In stillness lies the deepest truth,
Answers born beyond uncouth.
See through masks of liars’ guise,
Expose the false — unveil the lies.

With critical eye and soul refined,
Alchemy of spirit and mind.
Gaze inward, fierce, direct, and clear,
Transform your hell — no room for fear.

This is your power, your true art,
To forge the soul, to heal the heart.
Rise as the alchemist within,
And let the real true life begin.



---------------------



First Encounter

The “lovers” meet — the trade begins,
All hypocrisy, no meeting’s been!
Only images collide —
Of “partner” selves, four sides wide.

“Love’s by ears” — just feeding lies,
Money’s blinded all the skies.
Ego’s strong — can’t love at all,
Mind is weak, vain, doomed to fall.

So enough with love’s fake talk —
Few can walk that honest walk.
Endless repeat of this charade,
Where no one’s more than empty shade.



---------------------



Mercantile — Infantile

Mercantile, infantile,
On the Path to Light — be spiritual.
In this world, you’re quite a fool,
While most are beasts, a savage pool.

Don’t grow greed within the pens —
Run away, break free from dens.
Weakness grows where lies are law,
Deception’s rule, the devil’s claw.

Infantilism bred by dumb,
Spirit’s rot — the fiends’ foul sum.
Youth lost in false fog and haze —
A fate for all in dark malaise.

Grown? Is greed your only gain?
If so, you’re just a hollow strain.

Intuition, critic’s eye —
These alone help you fly.
Discard the “self,” that heavy load —
With it, you won’t reach the road.

Pure Spirit cannot stammer,
Nor can Light inflict a hammer.
Stop echoing the lie’s loud bray —
Throw all that wretched trash away.

From childhood’s grasp, it floods your mind,
A filthy storm, the worst mankind.
The false world pounds with endless spite,
Killing pure Spirit’s flickering light.

Forward — bravely inward go,
Let fiends’ grip not reach your soul.
If your critical sense you grow,
Rejecting lies that poison flow.

Though evil strikes in cycles grim,
Monotony will show their whim:
Their efforts primitive and bleak —
Schizophrenia — not thoughts, but freak.



---------------------



Manifesto of Awakening

Reject the mercantile, infantile sway —
True spirit walks the Lighted way.
In this world of beasts and lies,
Most are slaves in false disguise.

Don’t nurture greed inside the pen,
Break the chains — be free again!
Where lies rule, the spirit dies,
Deception’s law, the devil’s prize.

Infantilism breeds decay,
Youth lost in fog, led far astray.
If grown, but crave just gain and greed,
You’re hollow, empty — doomed to bleed.

Trust intuition, sharpen mind,
Discard the “self” that drags behind.
Pure Spirit neither stammers nor strikes,
Light cannot wound — but evil spikes.

Silence lies, reject their throng,
Purge the mind of endless wrong.
Though evil cycles come and go,
Monotony reveals their show.

Grow your strength, defy their schemes,
Awake! Break free from poisoned dreams.
Fight with clarity, see their plight —
Resist the darkness, claim the Light!



---------------------



Slave’s Collar

The bright “wicked ones” go unseen,
Their minds intact within the night.
The world grows shamed, a tainted scene —
No one will hear your warning fight.

Only media’s deafening call
Leads fools to battle, “healing” schemes.
The fences fall, and crowds will sprawl,
A herd amassed by cruel regimes.

Oppose the media — you’re the fiend
In eyes of fools who can’t discern.
To fools, the slave’s collar’s esteemed —
Like ties at feasts, they’ll spurn and turn.

The slave’s mind’s madness — wild and blind,
Its collar’s name fits to a T.
The fiends don’t dwell in evil’s kind —
Each slave defends their misery.

In sticky fear and senseless drudge,
They think themselves both strong and free.
In lies and darkness, they just trudge —
Like fish within a poisoned sea.

Speak of freedom — fool recoils,
As if you’d drag them to the shore.
Escape is naught within these coils —
The herd of fools is vast, and more.

The proud fools, many in their ranks,
The honest few grow day by day.
The end’s pre-set; no second chance —
The pen of evil closes sway.

Soon will come the final hour,
When fight’s denied, the noose is drawn:
To burn the dark with primal power,
And shatter cages made by dawn.



---------------------



Manifesto of the Collar-Breakers

The brightest souls remain unseen,
While night consumes the shameful scene.
The world grows blind, deaf to the cries—
Media chains control the lies.

To stand against the herd’s dull roar,
Marks you a fiend they all deplore.
The slave’s collar, tight and grim,
Binds the mind, enslaves the limb.

Fools defend their prison’s hold,
In fear and darkness, bought and sold.
They think themselves both free and strong,
Yet swim in lies that last so long.

Speak of freedom—meet their scorn,
Escape’s denied, their minds are torn.
The herd is vast, the few grow thin,
The final act will soon begin.

Rise now! Tear the collar’s chain,
Break the silence, end the pain!
Burn the pens of dark deceit—
Claim the light, refuse defeat!



---------------------



The End of History

A helpless foe,
With Darkness at your back.
How primitive and low—
To dodge the mental crack,

To side with beasts,
To crush and grind them down,
To **** a world deceived,
And steal the birthright crown.

All rights given at birth,
For every human soul,
Decay has reached its earth—
No war left to control.

War is just a cleanup,
Deceit the cruelest tool,
The sneering, sadistic fraud
That governs every rule.

From childhood, lies uphold
The falsehood’s heavy weight.
No peace, no rest—
From birth to final fate.

Goebbels serves as model clear,
A “pioneer” he stands.
A slave to lies, held dear—
In herds across all lands.

“Pioneer” until death,
Forever on the trail,
Believe the beasts,
And join the herd’s frail wail.

They’ll name the herd with fancy words,
“Great ideas” on command.
But all are lies beneath the surface,
To **** the heart’s command.

The heartless freaks ascend,
The madhouse lifts them high.
This global mob commands,
Where man and beast comply.

Few humans left among the herd—
That’s why the end is near.
This time has come to close the book:
The end of History’s year.



---------------------



Manifesto: The End of the Age

The foe is weak — yet Darkness backs their might,
Primitive minds choose to embrace the blight.
They side with beasts to crush and to destroy,
A world enslaved, stripped bare of every joy.

Rights born with us trampled underfoot,
Decay’s deep root, no war left to dispute.
Deceit rules all — the cruelest, coldest art,
A world built on lies, that breaks the human heart.

From childhood fed with lies that never cease,
No rest until the soul’s released.
The masters of deceit parade as guides,
And herd the masses, mindless, dumb, and tied.

They brand the slaves “pioneers” in name,
Trapped in the system’s sickening game.
To follow beasts, to join the hollow herd —
Is to betray the truth with every word.

The heartless rise, insanity their crown,
The few who stand are pushed and beaten down.
This is the hour — the final, closing scene:
The end of History, lost and obscene.

But in this darkness, sparks of truth ignite,
Awake! Resist! Reclaim the sacred Light!
Break every chain, shatter every lie,
Let spirit soar, let freedom multiply!



---------------------



Manifesto Battle Cries

Break the chains!
Shatter the lies!
Light the fire —
Watch darkness die!

No more slaves,
No more fools,
Reject the herd,
Destroy their rules!

Awake the mind,
Defy the beast,
From heart to soul —
Let freedom feast!

Tear down the cage,
Burn false control,
Rise from the ashes —
Claim back your soul!

Truth is a sword,
Justice the shield,
Stand unbroken,
Never yield!



---------------------



Satanic Cartoons

Cartoons on the remote —
Not just TV fare,
People like mere screws afloat,
Money moves the air.

Money drives the scripts,
Propaganda weaves,
Cults and falsehoods in tight grips,
Pseudoscience deceives.

Chasing cash alone —
Money is the fetish,
Fools are ruled by lies well known,
Silent, smooth, and fresh.

Genocide you’ll see,
If you’re no puppet’s pawn,
You’ll hate the evil spree—
Satanism’s dawn!

Monsters hold the remote tight,
Devil writes the plot,
Fascist heroes on the screen’s light,
In hellish scenes they’re caught.

Satanism and fascism
Poison every frame.
Cartoons shove enemas
Into the brain’s domain.

With battle lies they end the tale,
Destroying God’s pure spark,
The ****** of the devil’s veil,
A world grown cold and dark.

Yet in their trance they seek delight,
Consuming lies so deep,
On screen it’s progress, not the blight —
But darkness won’t sleep.

The fairy tale nears its doom—
Disaster’s curtain fall,
By monsters’ wicked, cruel broom,
No happy end at all.



---------------------



Satanic Cartoons

Cartoons control the remote,
Money rules, they write the plot.
Lies invade the fool’s dull mind—
Satan’s cult is all they’ve got.

Brainwashed by the devil’s hand,
Fascist tales infect the screen.
Falsehood’s poison spreads like fire—
Killing God’s eternal gleam.

End is near, the tale grows dark,
No more hope, no happy spark.



---------------------




Satan’s screen, the devil’s lie,
Cartoons **** what won’t comply.
Falsehood rules, the light will die —
Fight or fade, no alibi!



---------------------



Displacement

Displacement’s not so hard to find —
Reject the lies, the falsehoods blind.
Let fiends lie shameless all they will,
But multiply your strength and skill.

Displacement is the very start —
Not just to dance around the hearth.
A way to guard what’s best in you,
To care not for the foolish crew.

For slaves are dull, and most conform,
The path of knowledge, sharp and worn,
Is easier walked alone and pure,
Clear sight will help you to endure.

You’ll see the clouds of madness rise,
Expose the rotten, hateful lies.
Falsehood rules with ruthless hand,
Cain’s deceit burns through the land.

Today they **** with lies, it’s true —
CowID revealed the view.
Displacement’s simple, clear, and plain,
If your own mind still shall remain.

The soulless dead surround us all,
No heart, no thought — a vacant thrall.
SOT — save bodies, not just cries,
Amid the filth where decay lies.

Displacement fights that grim decay,
A battle fierce — we all must pay.
The world brought low, now close to end,
And reckoning will soon descend.

No clouds above — pure darkness reigns,
Complete despair — the madhouse chains.



---------------------




Displaced, but not destroyed,
Reject the lies, destroy the void.
Fiends may flood the world with shame,
But clear your mind, resist the game.



---------------------



Chemtrails

The "sky" — a reckless myth,
Here Hell walks incarnate.
Above the land — a vulture’s pith?
No, just a sellout’s fate!

The fiends have crushed it all,
Their lies — like "Our Father" spoken.
And what’s the answer? Whining’s call!
Madness left unbroken.

The soul’s replaced by stench and shame,
The mind is killed — no saving.
Too late to curse, too late to blame —
The sky will burn the craving.

That light will burn the madhouse down,
A rotten global lie.
They make a world of cattle drown,
Beneath that poisoned sky.

Lace trails spin across the blue —
The scoundrels feel the ending.
Reflect the light? It’s over, through,
No saving or defending.

The price for killing Spirit’s breath
Is doom — a grim reward.
What’s left? A void, a cult of death,
The servants of the Lord.

Multiply your righteous rage —
The answer to the Hell:
To genocide, lies on the stage,
The foul worldwide smell.

If in your wrath your mind should die —
A sign for skies above:
You’ll move beyond this hellish lie,
To realms of truth and love.



---------------------



False Images and Total Lies

Imposed images repeat,
Lies compass fools’ direction.
All is overgrown with cheat —
Reality’s dejection.

We “live” as in a tale,
But Ivan Fool’s unmasked.
In kingdoms where all fail,
Chaos reigns unmasked.

The compass drives to stalls,
Wool grows where minds were free.
Lies flow like spirits’ calls —
Hangover: IDIOCY.

Here work vile cabals,
Crafting memes and stories.
Endless schemes and protocols,
No truth in all their glories.

Screen monkeys feed the news,
While readers face the bars.
Madmen charge with bleating crews,
Soon chaos mars the stars.

Those images — like comics,
A mess without connection.
Made evil for sly gimmicks,
To split the mind’s direction.

Emotions, images —
But thoughts are fully gone.
All turns to madness’ pages —
Disgusting, raging scorn.

In fools’ minds, ******* grows —
Three quarters of the herd.
Add villains who impose
Control through twisted words.

Responsive only to
A slurry false and weak,
Named “ours” by shadow’s crew —
The dumb obey, not speak.

Called “normal,” stupidity
Has plagued the world for long.
They call it “stability,”
“Development” in song.

**** grows by itself, they say,
Yeast added in this mess —
False images, lies betray,
Onward, world, regress!

Build your camps, and seek relief
From darkness falsely sown.
Strive for happiness — but grief
If you’re a microbe grown.

Then joy and bliss decline —
Your pants are full of shame.
Push forward, more in line —
Obey the Devil’s claim!



---------------------



False Lies Breed Slaves

Fools are led by lies like dogs,
Images fake, like comic clogs.
Brains cut off, souls split apart —
Total lies enslave the heart.

Truth is crushed, the herd obeys,
Dumb and blind in wicked ways.
World’s a shitshow, rotten core —
Wake the hell up, fight this war!

Camp of liars, breed of slaves,
Darkness rules, the spirit caves.
Rise, resist — don’t feed the beast,
Or you’ll be lost — the devil’s feast!



---------------------



The Asylum

Psychopaths, psychopaths —
Countless as the night!
Not just fools, but madness
In a clinic’s blight.

The world’s grown dumb and hollow,
Falsely made that way.
Lies strike like poison arrows —
Woe that won’t decay.

Schizophrenic miasma
Fills the toxic air.
For decay’s success —
Dark forces everywhere.

Poison food, poison water,
Spread the vile deceit,
Watch the world degrade,
Fall broken at your feet.

Cut the bonds, make atomized
A world of selfish fiends —
Hell’s own creatures rise:
Satan reigns supreme.

Psychiatrists forced to tend
What little mind remains.
Satan’s grip grows tighter,
Insanity sustains.

Don’t lose your mind to crowds,
The dumb, the sheep, the slaves,
Become a slave or traitor,
Chained by lies and graves.

Enough madness in this asylum —
Global, wide, and deep.
New wars matter little
When minds are put to sleep.

If not wise with your own head,
You’ll fall to ****’s sharp knives.
To rule the fools —
You must **** the lies.

These weeds grow thick and endless,
Corruption floods the land.
The fiends will drown us all soon
In lies that plague the sand.

Soulless cattle — the mission
Of these fiends and their war.
They fight the Pure Spirit —
Souls the prize they score.

If you don’t see this evil,
And choose not to fight,
You’ll boil like a frog,
Reborn a goat in spite.



---------------------



Over the Edge...

******* fools, deceivers above —
All stupid as corks, all ruthless, all shove.
Boldness is bliss, and brains are poison —
Selling out’s the only chosen horizon.

A herd rushes down this track,
Straight to Hell — no turning back.
Fools have wrecked the single lane,
So pour a drink — no sober gain.

This train won’t last, it’s doomed to crash,
The track will blow — into the trash.
Decay’s a story told in lies,
A shitstorm spawned by media’s cries.

You’ll choke on news even en route,
But few awake and bear the truth.
They planned their path — the ****’s a pack,
Herding all like cattle back.

Media’s poison — sarin, gas,
Drives the Spirit out so fast.
Left are shells — scrap or freight,
When lines run out, so runs the fate.

Reason gone, the Spirit crushed,
Herd and cargo — doomed and hushed.
Just need to wipe them all away,
The stench will clear, fresh winds will sway.

Mother Earth chokes on the media’s blight,
The dumb herd lost all will to fight.
Once obedient idiots, now mere cattle,
Few hold Mind and Spirit in battle.

They die like birds in cages small,
Midst dung flies buzzing in their thrall.
Spirit to Spirit, dust to dust,
The edge draws near — betray your trust.

So cast off fear, reject all lies —
This world you’ve outgrown, be wise.
If you thought and fought, stood strong,
Never broke, never sold out wrong.

If Spirit’s honor stayed your guide,
You’ll walk away with soul and pride.



---------------------



Negative Selection

Wasted talents crowd like grass in wild woods,
They hype the “speculators,” the pop for the goods.
The world is speculation, a fog, a lie,
What serves decay—support it, amplify.

Reverse selections, dictatorship, genocide,
All hiding in holes while the proven **** lies.
They test you strict—Satan’s grip is tight:
If you hold a spark of God, they’ll drag you down to night.

There you’ll stew in the sewer’s muck,
Till rot consumes you and all is stuck.
Talent’s meant for fighting Evil’s throne,
So talents are crushed—Evil’s seed is sown.

All Satan’s “infants” will back the haze,
That drags the mind deep into a drunken daze.
Corrupt fools spread their stench everywhere,
“Art” decays, while Spirit, Honor, Conscience disappear.

“Science”—a nightmare, pure sham and disgrace,
The story of a land sunk deep in disgrace.
The world’s a prison where traitors reign,
Where talents were born, only torturers remain.

Their pact’s eternal, corruption’s their crown,
These ******* are rotten, no longer humans around.
When all is rotten, maybe new seeds will rise,
But for now, the idiot rattles his chains and lies.

Chains of lies, feeding the total deceit,
They grasp nothing—only illusions repeat.
Only the Spiritual Light has true worth,
Else soulless slaves fall down, falling from birth.

The bottom is pierced; soon all will decay,
The stench is so thick, only fire clears the way.
And the Sun has begun to burn the slaves,
Their masters too—this is what it paves.

Chains piled high—over-slavery, shame, and gloom,
People scurry like mice in holes, embracing their doom.