Claw beneath your ribs
Hold down wild you
Just for a little while
Feel the anguished flutter
Begging these gruff hands . . .


1.
Fear takes commotive hold
Makes wooden legs
Delayed dance…..so delayed
Causing silent attendance of synchrony

No use stepping out for flight just yet, if alone
Will meantime practise wing-span
                           iron out brittle energy
                           attempt to fortify links
                           ..

2.
Careless snubs to fragile sapling
Did *absolutely nothing
To the course set out
Only hypocrites squander even half-truths
and wallow in obsequious words
rendering paralysis and decay

I will continue to claw beneath your ribs
Covert trove awaits us
In the tormented form of
Crashing waves on a broken coast
Hacked to near-distraction by potent searching


3.
Loss is not wasted
unseen by its absence:
evocative presence felt …with penniless eyes

I challenge you to visualise our melting:
                 perched on fate’s right shoulder
                 re-sent to this basic arena as buoyant token
                 summoned by that primordial, blue light
                 ..



the sun may well baulk and melt
at the ruddy sight of
such intense clawing beneath your ribs
(like your customary digging into my bristling blades)

To find my foetal place
within the calling drumbeats
of imperative you . . .




S T, sunsday . . . 21 July 2013

You who have done wrong, who thinks your right.
In subsequent to your anger towards me,
you have no [right].
Still i ignore your snubs
treated it as a bluffs.
Glad that you ignore me
at times, even if you bore a grudge on me.
I'll received it as a parting gift
to forget whatever causes of grief
you've done.

I know this words will never reach you,
cause in life i don't want to give birth
to more misunderstanding. I am already
misunderstood and mistreated at times.

I just want to live-up to the silence of my comfort.
My independence is enough
to have a strong mind
and a stable heart to withstand
all the backslash of tongues.

a quote says:
everybody needs somebody sometimes
well i don't need one when I'm still able.

Oh, sweet, sweet friend
How may I describe you?
The beauty of our friendship
Is of much more value
Than a baboon's ***.
This, I'm telling you,
Is that a baboon's ***
Isn't of much value.
You're like
Something I'd walk on the streets of New York
where many feet trample on the pavements
where spit hits ******* the ground
and dirt rubs and snug itself tight.

You're like
The sound of beautiful woman
Inviting me to a nice, fancy dinner
in her huge mansion
With her gorgeous husband
And laughs along to his lame jokes
and gives me a toast
under the lights
of the golden chandelier
as her precious goods bounce around
in that low-cut dress
so absolutely sweet you are,
how much I adore the love in your voice,
the gentle one that kisses me goodbye
If only it was real
and not as fake
as the eyes you bear
when you tell me
I'm amazing.

You're like
a sweet wrapper
I'd happily look at
feeling **** guilty inside
nevertheless.
That crunching sound it makes
As it opens to a beautiful sweet
Chocolate! I chew you up and
swallow you down.
I'd never think something
so delicious and innocent
would hurt me so bad, and give me
Black teeth. Or potentially diabetes.
Nothing so tasty would **** me
slowly inside
forget the temporary pleasure I had.

You're like
Fresh, long hair
and a pretty little face
which bears ugly lips
that shoot out ugly words
and claw people around their necks
and suffocate their freedom of speech
or their opinion
and snubs out their rainbow
like a cigarette
My dear, you’re a monster!
Have you no taste for uniqueness
and creativity, a knack
in weirdness, the love
of awkward hellos,
and a shy but determined being
in the making?
You press down the people you think you can ****.
You, with your sharp words
and condescending eyes,
scrutinize my every move
and throw snide remarks
behind my back,
Honey, don’t you realise
You’re not perfect?

So I've said, you're a sweet, sweet friend.
You are!
As sweet as the poison that kills me
before it reaches my heart.
It has already killed my ability
to lead, to be empowered,
to be free.

So, my sweet, sweet friend
feel free to lace up the shoe
and wear it if it fits.
One day, I'll step on you.

Out in the woods I took a stroll
But the trial was getting mighty droll
So off into the thicket I dared go

The further I went the thicker it got
But I was determined to find what I sought
I was so tired of these overwhelming thoughts

The trorns stretched out and cut thin lines
My hands got entangled within the vines
This seems to be a constant thyme of mine

But I pushed on, pushed through Even though the pain grew
Had I bitten off more than I could chew

The brambles I was currently entangled in
Went on, and on much to my chagrin
I couldn't even tell where I had been

I sat right down there amongst the thorns
Why did I never listen to that voice that warns
But I never did, I always meet the bull by the horns

About to give up, about to coincide
But what happened next was hard to believe
A crimson red bird flew down and sat by me

He started to sing of better days of better ways
He sang of greener pastures in which to graze
Even if on my hands and knees a trail I must blaze

"So don't give up" he screeched as he flew
"Your trials will be a lot more than a few"
"But pushing on I know you can do"

So that I did, on my hands and my knees
I knew perseverance held the keys
I would be as brave as my ancestors, the Cherokees

When I finally broke through, dog tired and ******
Body covered in the thorny cuts, face muddy
I looked like a severely beaten puppy

But as I looked down on the valley below
I let all of that go
I was now within nature's wonderful flow

The smell of honeysuckle and lilacs did mingle
A scent so delectable it made my senses tingle
The dew on the vibrant green grass, like diamonds did twinkle

I'm so glad even though sorrow overflowed my cup
That I didn't give in to all of this world's snubs
I pushed on and didn't give up

Life is an oxymoron, on that you can depend
For now that I'm at the end
My life can truly begin

Snow,
deep and white
fell
sometime
in the night, but
I was alright
snug in bed.

Under the snow lies the world that I know,
the ***** and grubby
and yet it still snubs me,
I don't want the snow to go.

Under Waterloo Bridge,
another shelf in the fridge, a cruel World for some
where the Sun doesn't shine and it's cold all the time
designed to be beat
dead on their feet
a bed on cement
backs bent by the day
lay the broken and cracked.
A fact of society.

Snow came as a blessing,
one more white dressing for
the ulcerated trunks of
incapable drunks.
Do you see them?
the jetsam
do they worry you?
they will if you let them.

I bet some of them had lives
children and wives,
washed out in the flow now
thoughts  covered in snow now
and it's cold outside.

As I began to climb the campus stairs,
All alone with a numb ache-
A depression blocked those minute vessels,
That carries my vital fluid that frequently thins.
A kind of a genetic disorder that robs me off-
All of my terrible hormones that loses competition,
A competition so heroic called youth,
That settles the score of my ****** life.
A physical length that reduces me to a dwarf,
Almost an intelligent ape that snubs too-
And cannot have biology with another species,
That adores a disqualified creature of its size.

What can make me happy?
What do I want then?
Shall I need those beautiful preachers of opposite genes?
Shall I claim their eminence in my life?
Or leave them for those eligible bachelors?

As I landed my nose in the campus pillars,
And nobody cared but me-
A stimulus recoiled and resurrected those minute vessels,
That carries my vital fluid that became viscous again.

they say that god wants us to be dust
but i can’t believe that’s true
i’ve always thought of a cigarette as a bet
can you breathe in its dissolution
without becoming its demise?
on the sidewalk, cracking like
the bedraggled earth , where
all the gum becomes gray eventually
but the orange rims still shine
and remind you of the sunrise
you blocked out with your laughter

the sky on a ***** day in the city
that never sleeps or snubs
(or chokes on its own spit)
almost looks like a drag
from a set of charred lips
and your body, i’m sorry to say,
looked like an ashtray to me

Her stained thoughts manifest
as reckless voice that
critiques and confines.

Her words jars authenticity
and snubs their narrative,
cooked from their perspective,
and experience.

Flames of disapproval,
burn brighter with every beat
as incompetency bites
and acceptance withers.

She captures snapshots,
and confines them into
stereotyped framed
of idiosyncratic value.

But steadily,
as she delayers,
scrubs the scrutiny of judgements
of her thoughts, and emotions —
she steps off the battleground
of others skin
and becomes the change of creating
a embracing society.

can't seem to put my finger on it, yet all eight tend to try,
there's no hidden agenda here, just my thumbs, me and i,
"your wild nights have done damage," they say,
white coats think i'll take that news sly.

can't seem to pull my digit, there's only one that tries,
spun the wheel, one through six, can't be denied,
my demise tastes like metal and was cold as ice,
so i ended it once, but decided it twice.

"pardon my late night knock,
so sorry to intrude,
i've been selected to be the bearer of bad news."

"what is it officer?
what are you trying to elude?
i didn't see this one coming, not one of the few. "

"i never like doing this, but it's apart of my job,
your son shot himself in the back of your saab.

slow your mind ma'am and remember the laughter,
slow your heart, as it will never beat faster,
i understand ma'am, these desperate measures,
you will fall apart, but he wrote you a letter."

"dear mamma, there's so much to say,
you've watched my path and it's visual fade,
do you remember that time on the promenade,
when we were laughing so hard and fell into the lake?
please dream about that and not your blood soaked babe,
it's not your fault, the knife was a present that day.
forgive my selfishness, don't waste a tear,
my wrath was overwhelming, even for me to bear.
by the way, if i wasn't man enough for the blade,
i loaded dad's little snub nosed 38."

They say jealousy turned her green,
Ugly and unusable,
She snubs her nose at the world,
Like the wicked witch she is,
I say jealousy only added fuel to the fire,
Of a young broken heart,
She caught her lover of four years cheating,
In bed with another dart,
Those sheets contaminated with the sins of her beloved, that room only echoes his desire for another,
Not she,
The house reflecting loneliness,
She wasn't good enough,
Jealousy didn't turn her green,
The world did,
The tiny world she called her own,
Thought her own,
Two green eyes,
Warm arms,
And a steadfast laugh,
He turned her green,
When she use to be red,
He died shortly after,
No one quite knows why ;)

I been at times struggling here.
I been able at times to overcome here.
Life is by far greater then your situation.
Love is by far, greater then any amount of money.
People are always more valuable then your checking account.
Never give up on those that you love dearly , just believe.
For Christ does answer prayers, and he loves them more.
Believe and the door to your prayers shall be open.
Just keep loving and let Christ worry about everything else.
Please whatever you do , do not snub anyone not matter what.
For Christ never snubs anyone, he loves everyone in the world.

Where the boulevard nears the bridge
Liesel stands with arms akimbo
Defiant posture deflecting whistles like bullets
And low ball offerings like marbles
  
She heard:
Toss her a nickel watch her shake like it's a dollar
In a pig's eye  
she roared
And spat hard for emphasis
  
Call her a *****
She might be persuaded  
If you smooth your tongue with velvet
And dip your fedora to hide it's fork
  
Her belly rumbles
It's hunger for a snack points peekaboo
Toes towards Harry's good time diner
10 cent burgers draw an unscrupulous crowd
  
Her pious snubs  
Of men who might fill her purse  
Have done little for a definite need of sustenance  
Though the fine slant of uppity *****  
Now lifting her little chin
Seems to have really brought out her aristocratic features
  
Buck whoops and haws
As she makes her appearace
He is a huge fan of Liesel' s posterior
And cannot wait for her stride past
  
A thought hits:
With her rumbling challenging haughty composure  
Feeling on the verge of fainted dead away
She snips:
  
Buck I'll let you pat me where I jiggle
For a five bag of burgers  
And a side of beans
  
Buck grinned ear to ear
And picking yellow feathers out of his teeth replied:
  
Liesel darlin
For that *** I should only buy you three

Oh tea
How you comfort me
I want you pipping hot
Curse the day if you're not

Oh tea
How you know me better than most
You're with me through biscuits, curry and toast
Through the sadness and the jokes

Oh tea
We're together when my slumber breaks
Before and after afternoon naps
The solid, the broken and the cracked
You're my constant, that's a fact

Oh tea
You put your trust in me
Making you is an art, you see
My colleagues didn't understand
The severity that was in their hands

Oh tea
I'm sorry for the disrespect
For the long life milk and unsealed tubs
For the dust and 2 second snubs
The stained mugs and shrugs

Oh tea
You're the perfect friend
When my social skills have come to an end
Whether out ‘n’ about
Or on the couch all cosy and slouched


Oh tea
I take you everywhere
Without you? imagine the despair!
I must declare, you make me feel like a millionaire
A cup of you is like a prayer, without you I'd likely swear (a lot)

Oh tea
In a teapot, mug or cup
The choice is lucious enough
When someone comes through the door, the kettle goes on for sure

Oh tea
Through joy, celebration or pain
Disaster, pandemics or vain
Through loneliness or togetherness
You've always been so generous

A Blasphemous insult
to road rages
gutted pigs
and pixie tricks lying
on the headboard
over my too-small bed.

i am malicious
in the way that i am so far
but so very
in
and out
of my head.

dangerous foreplay
numbing cigarette snubs of kitten licks
i pull and tug
at the cancerous death
of Life.

wicked ends of
nights begins
and your lips all over mine.
on repeat.
like a broken cassette until i lay
vomiting over
this projectile mess.

and i search for
words that could
would
describe this
. . .
lingo of broken down
younglings
who for god sings,
and screams,
and do not know.

God, they do not know.

they who have screamed,
for Adam and Eve
and lay wrapped in each others tongues.
noses bleeding,
never-ending
eyes perceiving
what we all have been needing
darkness.

its shrieking
shivering
cries of madness toppled onto
eyes
you have been searching for your whole
Life.

and the mind-numbing
drugs
that you inflict upon yourself
digging your fingers into your skin
searching for flesh
and possibly a soul within.

we are the knocked out
lie living
generation of drunks

losing ourselves
in what we call
love.


n.b.

Yellow buddy Gunther meets
Ginger Fred the red

Nose touch and sniff
Yep. You. ‘K.

(He eschews those black cats—
Snubs uncomfortable loves)

But boys will be boys
Meeting nose to nose.

We just feed them.

I am changing, not
fractious. This was a mystic feel
of talking with muted god.

The stealing power snubs.
Why the protester needs an ally to
unravel the unwritten prayers.

Ah the snobbish light
perceives the darkness to understand
socratic sermons. Why I will suffer?

Cigarettes and motorcycles,
Oh Mercy and Long Train Running
The art of snubbery, not an actual word
But you catch my drift, he snubs so good
Never anyone's pawn he wrote so much
He often forgot what he'd recorded.
The story of him hearing someone cover
Love Is Just A Four Letter Word and saying
That it was a good tune brought chuckles from
His travelling companion.
To call him luminary would be a shortfall.
Prolific, another stab in the dark,
Maybe Wizard would suit him, I don't know
Just play it loud Bob, play it loud.

the meaning of inferior
actually superior
Inferior snubs you
saying you are yet to master
Same time
the superior you are
actually
it is inferior to you Coz
you are above that..

She, the brainchild of Rohit Prasad -
India-born person who breathed life
into Alexa, and lead technology side
of project almost from its inception.

Amazon Alexa Echo
a marvel of voice activation technology,
(reportedly voiced by Nina Rolle,
a voice actress and singer
based in Boulder, Colorado,
though neither Amazon
nor Rolle officially
confirmed nor denied rumor).

Aforementioned electrical engineer
recognized as being a key figure
leading the technology side of the project
and the AI that powers it,
along with his colleague Tony Reid.

Yours truly welcomes with bated breath
yet to be designed technological
electronic marvels making
yesteryear's futuristic technological inventions
appear laughably quaint.

Courtesy a fellow tenant
we (the missus and me befriended)
gifted an Amazon Echo.

Rather than enrich the coffers of Jeff Bezos
(paying five dollars a month
for commercial free listening),
we (the missus and myself)
clearly enunciate "Alexa off"
when product or service plugged,
and like an obedient quasi robot,
she shuts herself off
after being screamed at
until me blue in the face
(methinks she snubs authority)
indicated courtesy
snapping, crackling and popping sounds
plus a ring of fiery light
flashing an expletive
that necessitates off afterwards.

Ah...I just love
the latest in modern technology,
especially entrepreneurs
who dream up
out of this webbed wide world gizmos
sporting the latest capacities
in artificial intelligence
that boggle the mind.

At some point in time,
what appeared as futuristic yesterday
will become the everyday
humdrum reality of today,
whereby sophisticated machines
(smarter than their inventors)
will serve as prairie home companions
(emulating Norwegian bachelor farmers
for eligible bachelorettes)
performing much of the labor
(such as making powder milk biscuits
giving shy people
the necessary courage)
and be heavily involved
and outright aggressive
incorporating significant decision making
within the military intelligence complex
essentially rewriting the rules
not only applicable to mortal Kombat,
but also taking charge
of the levers of power
and consigning population at large
to rough and tumble
modus operandi of survival,
whereby fearsome ******
foo fighting gangs (from Battle Creek)
******* the infrastructure
and enslave those who trumpet
and/or advance progressive policies
(read Democratically liberal tenets)
to chain gangs subjected
to backbreaking labor
from sunup to sundown.

Those who attempted
to escape the torturous existence
only found themselves
condemned to a fate
worse than death, albeit
getting caught cheating by the wife.

God's Acre

In a field, not far from here, I see millions of lit candles 
But only at night, during the day, it is a potato patch
A man, you can call him God if you like, walks along 
The candles and, every so often, snubs out with his
thumb and index finger, a lit candle, with fingers
sore from this arduous work
He is heading for the part of the field where
The candle wax has burnt out, but the wick flickers
like grey smoke in still air
When dawn appears on the eastern mountain
The field turns into a potato patch
Where a man is harvesting spuds