"Tout aux tavernes et aux filles."

Suppose you screeve? or go cheap-jack?
    Or fake the broads? or fig a nag?
Or thimble-rig? or knap a yack?
    Or pitch a snide? or smash a rag?
    Suppose you duff? or nose and lag?
Or get the straight, and land your ***?
    How do you melt the multy swag?
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

Fiddle, or fence, or mace, or mack;
    Or moskeneer, or flash the drag;
Dead-lurk a crib, or do a crack;
    Pad with a slang, or chuck a ***;
    Bonnet, or tout, or mump and gag;
Rattle the tats, or mark the spot;
    You can not bank a single stag;
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

Suppose you try a different tack,
    And on the square you flash your flag?
At penny-a-lining make your whack,
    Or with the mummers mug and gag?
    For nix, for nix the dibbs you bag!
At any graft, no matter what,
    Your merry goblins soon stravag:
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

THE MORAL
    It's up the spout and Charley Wag
With wipes and tickers and what not.
    Until the squeezer nips your scrag,
***** and the blowens cop the lot.

thangs that are dumb and show offish
is posting how many views i got and
i got a lot for only being a noob to site.
aint jealous but hate when a lady
used to yack yack about how many
shoes bought when i had a job.
do not miss that woman cause
she was like over eating candy
that makes you sick also

If I seem surprised,
it's because I'm still alive.
My search for eternal sleep
ended with a nap.

You didn't see because I didn't let you,
but you were never one to want to help.
You sent me on my oh so merry way.
Why didn't you know I was that far gone?

Though I don't blame you for damning
me. The river flowed too strong inside,
it was up to me to dam myself. Too
bad I dove into the raging torrent of

Baltic tea, yack and Judas. I have no
need of temporary sleep. I only have
freezing sweats and waking dreams
that make me picture you and know

I need to seek another push and pull
until I'm blind to what you were to me.
If I freeze my insides the river will stop
flowing so violently and for once I may

be able to take a breath and dream
without a bottle and pictures of you.
I'll lie by the bank and smile at how
calm it has become since I threw in the ring.

I don't blame you for damning me, and
I don't blame you for keeping turned.
I only blame me for not daming myself
when I had the chances back then.

Let loose the river; I'll happily swim the rapids
without preserver. There isn't much left to
keep afloat. Not that I need to die this time,
but I can't say I'd resist without you.

the dream



joan barimaster was a very independent woman, who wanted everything to be perfect, and she lives

with her 34 year old autistic son named robert, which can be a complete nightmare, because robert was

always asking questions like a eager to learn teenager, well maybe at first, but as he repeats and repeats

the same quotation over and over again, joan was totally sick of it, like this morning robert was telling joan

all about his dream last night, saying, are dreams the force of reality, and joan said, well yeah, if you want them

to come true, they’ll come true, but we really shouldn’t look to deeply into this dream, but robert said

well, i dreamt i was a star of the musical named joseph and the amazing technicolour dream coat and

robert was joseph, and joan said, dreams are all the gunk from your head trying too get out, and robert said

oh silly mum, that isn’t the cause of dreams, i must be healthy if that is the truth, because i dream all the time

and robert was asking joan twenty times over and over again, i am joseph, i am joseph i am joseph

i really am joseph, and then robert sang, i closed my eyes and drew back the curtain to see for certain

what i thought i knew, and robert sang that over and over again, driving joan completely nuts and

robert said, ok mummy, how about we go to the drama group and joan was busy and had to rush

which was a total disaster, first of all, joan had to get robert into the car, with robert being completely hard

to bare, asking stupid questions all the time, he was saying i am joseph i am joseph i am joseph

i closed my eyes drew back the curtain, to see for certain, what i thought i knew, and he was singing

the song ever so loud, making joan say in harsh loud words SHUT UP, but robert said, this is a dream of mine,

i am playing joseph, i am joseph, and that is my coat, when they arrived at the drama group, joan let robert out of the car

and didn’t move until someone brought him in, and that came in 6 minutes, and joan left, to go back home to do some work

now, joan has her own business in catering, and unless robert has to be somewhere, was always with joan, mind you

robert was never in the way really, it was just a little too much listening to him yack all the time about being joseph

and when joan picked robert up from drama group, robert said, i am joseph, they said i had real potential to be joseph

and joan said, really, that is good, robert, and joan went to this house on the rich end of town, to cater for a party and

robert went with her and started chatting up one of the female guests who liked the idea of robert playing joseph in a play

and she said she really loved that musical, and when robert sang the song, suddenly he was given guidance of the rest

of the song because this guest knew every word of the song and this made robert very happy, and then robert was told to *******

by the host of the party, and robert said, WHY DON’T YA UNDERSTAND, I LIKE YOUR DAUGHTER, I WANT TO MARRY HER

and joan, who was in the middle of preparing the meal, went out and said, robert, you have to quieten down, buddy, because

this man is one of my clients, ok, if i stuff anything up, i might lose this client and not get paid, and the host said, just keep your

son away from us, and joan put robert in the laundry, and this laundry was very interesting for robert, you see 2 washing machines

and 3 tumble dryers, and he played with the dryers and that made the host very mad, saying to joan, don’t bring your poor son to your jobs’

because he is stuffing us up, ruining our party, ok, i put in a lot of hard work, to be able to afford to have you cater for us, and having your

****** disabled son with you, is totally stupid, and joan said, nobody ever calls my son a ****** ok, and i don’t really need your money

so i will just leave you, to finish and me and robert will go home, he can’t be trusted at home, and the host said, what kind of mother are you

for letting your son dominate and joan said, i will cook these meals, so i can take your money for that, but you can wash and dry up yourself

you see, buddy it comes in a package, me and my son, ok, if you can’t except this, you can go and get ******, because i love my son robert, ya see

and joan got robert inside her house and said to robert, you were bad tonight, you know mummy wants to make a business with catering and robert

said, yeah i found that funny but Joan said, no, it wasn’t funny, catering is hard work, impressing people is hard work, you are hard work, but i am coping

and robert said when is drama on again, i am joseph, and that is what his lifelong dream was, to be joseph, and dance with pretty babes

and joan gave robert his medication and robert and joan both went to bed to be ready for the next day

Yicketty Yack his loaded knuckles snap
with each invasive step he takes
towards bringing the daisies back.

Like a Gorilla dragging a bag of prolific
back up to the front of the line like,
"Look here, Mom, we made it this time!"

Young blood bloated dumb,
can't you hear them humble drums
droning on from the swampy slums?

Here we are! Final Stop! The point where four corners of the earth converge in preparation of the coming plunder.

It's a wonder for the poodles to ponder.
But why bother when every ounce of effort conjured turns into cannon fodder for those pesky mammoths ripe with Karma?

females
lovers
yachts

forbidden fruit (eden)
little hole (eve)
Yahweh (tizzop)

friends
luck
yack

turn every letter around turn warriors
into choirboys allergic against weapons

turn vampires into
humans

turn around: somebody behind you
spying each letter you gotta

be better
don't turn the page NOW
the paper'd simply fly downwards into hell
with you

besides: the book of your life will end soon enough

Walk in the rain, so far not feeling a thing
Walking in to the train ******* is looking at me like
They probably think I ‘am menace terror
Chin music dialogue ******* with my ear
Heart to heart it shop talk wind yack
Do the best to cover the track
Block every revolutionary attack by pack
Military junta acting like shorter soda
Next thing you know
The game is finish
They winning the slap jack
Knock knock it hard to drag the sack
Lock the door lets show our rank
qliq qlak boom proof that they are not paper back
Meanwhile what matter to her/him is who killed?
The mind is working shift press the number not needed
Process it that’s your seed indeed they graduated
But the speed is in ****
They already know, way to proceed, just stop your need and start inhale from that roll of green
Disagree with why and agree with because
Because since you already surrounding by a pain all you can do is at least make it slow for your soul
a big hole pulling your goal
At the same time there is patrol letting your reach your goal
Caps lock, you are under control
Angel’s park is very dark even the clock is going fast
People stop passing
No one remember the past
The cast are the people supposed to finish the work of the last
Plants demand stand but everybody is looking their luck
Suddenly u give up all you do is watch your back and you don’t know why
But none of them would say these is my pack and lets attack.
Feeling is nothing, love suddenly it a word without meaning
Believers are ill mentally, humanism a lost definition,
Every muthfucker claims to know freedom or the definition of it
Will I got bad news for you there is no such thing called freedom
Thanks you.

I'm missing you.

The way your hand brushed through my hair
As we were sitting on the chair.
Or your words that helped me beyond compare.

I miss the tug
Inside my head
That said
I don't want this,
but you instead.

I miss the tiny
Fights we had.
But then we'd tell jokes,
that made me glad.

I don't miss the way I cried,
when you said, "no more"
And I saw you walk out through the door.

You said thanks,
And see you again,
but I knew you were lying,
and now I don't trust men.

I sat in my room,
thinking you would come back,
But you never did
And I began to yack.
I yacked and ranted
about how you left.

Then I sat down,
and cried once more.
Hugging a pillow,
And cursing for making,
my throat all sore.
Then I calmed,
and ate a milk bar,
Because I'm missing you
Whoever you are.

we're a nation
who loves to yack about the weather.

why?

we can't change it

Yeah yeah yeah

I will hear from you and / or / and / / / / / / with you

Jackets flung on your branches; hair awry, mussed up

I will comment about it

(I'm gonna drink spiked yackety yack)

Giggles. Jackets gone,  jealousy comes

Cookie journey here and there

You are the jar-full never known half-empty

Juggling jerky perky jingles- lines ever single

(Funny Big Gag Bag of lol)

Brimming with oddities and chocolate chips

(I will kick you to where the words are satin ah huh!)

Let's comment / hey / why not.

Strike not the lizard my wizard-

Strike this book- but don't cool it from hot

For I will drink and I will dry it

I do not want it left (de)composing

Shut- obsolete and unimposing


I'm going to write with flesh and silken ties-

(And a lucky-horned side-brew

I do not like to spill on you)

So I will spoon it, sip, sip, swipe the eyes;

I will comment / I will drink it / I will try it / Will I not?


I'm going to speak like I'm an autumn leaf shrilly falling

Yelling calling to the tree of thought- of nought

Swaying in circumstance- until my voice is stalling till

"I will write it I will spill it I will shine I will I will I will!"

You are the ground I fall upon with

Each new leaf crashing each coffee still.

The Preacher comes to visit us
A dozen times a week.
He comes so bless-ed often,
And Lordy does he speak!
At night or noon or morning
You’ll likely find him there;
Screaming out his warning
Astride the Preacher’s Chair.

The Preacher’s Chair is empty
When the Preacher ain’t around.
Grandpa used to sit there
‘Fore the Preacher came to town.
But the Preacher’s got the recipe
For emptying that seat –
Don’t tell the Preacher ‘bout your sins,
He knows when to repeat!

The Preacher talks to Jimmy –
How he lectures to that lad!
Tells him that he’ll go to Blazes
‘Cause he’s been so bad.
But Mama thinks that Jimmy,
He’s been good beyond compare.
And someday when the Preacher’s gone
He’ll fill the Preacher’s Chair.

The Preacher’s Chair is gone now,
But it’ll soon be back.
The Preacher still comes all the time,
And Lordy does he yack!
Now when the Preacher needs to sit,
He can do it anywhere.
‘Cause Jimmy spread a *** of glue
Upon the Preacher’s Chair!

best to write what you know to say
what is felt portray a
simple day rather
then a Greek Tragedy
or try to make rhymes
when all you hear are echoes
amidst the baying wolves
talk about city lights and low brow bars
if that is where you get energy
or tall pines and lush green fields
if that's where you go
to meditate
talk about *** when you don't get enough
or trees when you haven't touched one in
decades or the shadows cast by
skyscrapers when you live in a corn field
say what you know
I miss the touch of a woman I knew ten years ago
I love how the TV tells me all the news
I like four legged creatures they
give me love
I like beer
and a joint sometimes
more
tell me what you really do
talk to me like another human
yack at me tell me how you don't bathe for a day or two
or how like me the dishes stack up in the sink for weeks
or the neighbor's wife is so fine and how she once smiled
your way or how you sat
on the balcony and were so content
watching the sunset
or went and saw your child's first soccer game or a play and held
your child's hand when they were scared to go to bed last night
or got bad and met a new love and decided
to take them to bed the first night and how
that made you feel in the morning
or how you make the very first pancake turn out perfect
or drew a smile on a note and left it on your lover's pillow
this is poetry  
this is life