Rubber look and hooking crooks that try’s to ward to sound profound.

Rubber luck &
hooking trucks that
Skip through roads
on leaves of books
And skipping rooks
those shady crooks
in shadey Crookes
that slide about
& out the nooks
off the corners,
chequer board
checker bored,
Days are yore
Am I supposed to not be
bored, not so shore
the other sure is lazy bored
lazily and haze obscured,
Are you cured?
Or curved?
Or are ignored
the issues which we used to war
to laugh and disturb
the dust off kerbs
Skipping home
lipping drones
sip music through space vapour cones
into my ears
and bone rattle as ringing phones
Make me deaf you
F***ing mef
Don’t stand and fall, guitar face cleft
you’re on a stage, fuck in rage like
melvins callin’ magic men ‘mage’
Or some sort a sage
Anywage,
You can be so weedy
((So can I))
Ketama pollen
(Clever man’s greed)
Anyshank,
Wiz, woz where I ?
O bleah,
Glipping drones,
Klipping home
With some slipping and the grand EO’s lipping
of drones,
but definitely mainly grand
a grand,
so someone give me one (/?!) 4
lipping drones
and bouncing off your chakric
throne
Clatter blades at angles at bones
Push and clatter blades side on on bones
More see                                                                          Oe Mercy!
Go whet where ever wet weather drones roam
Shave off bits from
crooked homes
Kill & spill the blood on loam
of mercy Narie’s on fortunately on opposed paths
smoking on their ways to baths
call it Gym and it will
last
the subterfuge will hang there
fast
All is calm and no one’s
glassed
Deep within this second’s
past
Get out my sight you’ll
never last
your family’s living in (y)a past
But joy becomes the gentle
cast
around our loving seconds
passed,
Amongst the deathly ones
entwined
(Green incense wizards wine with woe about
wisdom welcome waves from King Tut
A strain with in (t)his cleanly zut
for once not toots whose so rank with glut
and fire of chest split
desperate anaemic money
make mire)
The form Ra winds;
Coagulate but never bind
Dissent within against cognisant
mind
I grapples but it only
grinds
I drag my loosey lucid lazy bag
made of transcendentally translucent sack
over crack and growing crackly crack
of the madly (so maybe mildly muddled my apple..eye..ogles) mildly worried mind
(Argh I hate stuff that
would actually say the word
“mind” about there!)??
It’s all not really about all of this anyway art any point
unless you’re proper sharp but ten/fifteen wouldn’t you be too sharp any wave ?


Rapeseed oil.

Loose the vine from mortal
coils
to lose the time spent for the spoils
My heart will burst, my
head will boil
Don’t get the call mixed up with
toil
To ourselves we are not loyal,
unspoiled
Stop acting like you’re bloody royal
Do you watch your spit sink
in the soil?
Every food you drink is oil
Ou r ape seeds sown will
make well-oiled
when grown.


Pub lick execution.

There’s only room
in a room
for one ego
be that front, back, chat, bath or
bed
This siht is symmetrical
Our bubbles can move
360 degrees around
eachother in a right
emulsion and everyone can share.
There should still be public
executions in the Uk and
USa, then people would work
harder and have fewer children. Mind you there basically are.

The pit of death shall
circle round
and down and bound
the sensing skin
which is akin
to serpentine grains of
wrack & sin scaling
reckoned layer upon layer of
holy rigormortis (Argh Ouroboros!)
Watch your attitude
Don’t, anonymous person, ever f%cking
call me dude if you don’t
usually call people that
And I genuinely like your hat
by the way.
And don’t, if your a man in full dPM,
call me darling because
I will find a gap through which to wink you it back and
shit shul’ get all awry and awkward 🙂 for (only?) thee
I’m twenty three plus three not three
&You’re probs in the Tee A and not the army
Combat career thee not me

By the w.. Nice car-
Seen’s you ask
I’ll have a gin martini please,
two or three o lives and
swirled, not stirred so I can
Shake it til’ we’re out of this
whirled.
First with ice to get the cooling process nice…
Flow follow
By the w.. what’s the litre-age on that mate?
(Do I truly give an ass of rat?)
I soon retire to tend the flowers
that grow to me in witching hours
and come and grow deep from dirt sour
“.. wuuh..That sounds strange man”
“And so do you,
and so do you and you and you, and so do you, and so do y..(all down the queue….)…….. “


Customer service.

These people want death
– drinking pint sized cans
of horrible energy drinks
that taste grim and
are horrible for your
health

***the devil in me likes that feeling of someone glancing up at me behind the till and seeming to instantly form an idea of how long i’m going to take serving them (delaying them) and start sighing and whatnot but bam.. you’ve done everything they wanted and
then they’re on the back foot because they were all sighing and sinking their eyes at you and your long hair and then all of a second they’re on your time and you’ve got a queue of other ones waiting – reckon a good man will smile at this point and change their sinking mind to swimming and thank you possibly but the funny ones are the ones who really rail and retain their stony subterfuge which, because of the anonymous yet shared experiential effects of your apparent and practiced service coupled with their unstoppable hurry, is useless and turns them into cement spinning tops that waver on the spot for a bit before a hurryaway, some of those do say thanks also though actually blessem’. Sometimes in these instants some are so locked up in their own loop of self-unfulfilled negative feedback and so so in an exponential hurry to get away from me that they hit the shelf that’s right behind them, some hard, it literally happens every day in fact, maybe because it’s a gas station and people have the road rush on the brain anyway but still — you can even play skittles with these bowlingball bellends, as long as you’re making sure you’re not the rude one (and they definitely are!:P) you can fire the stony ones at angles at the shelf behind (using your face and its nice blank/blank nice expression), knocking off different chocolate bars that you’ve arranged into a relative points system on a bit of paper there at the desk, gotta keep yersel’ entertained on the jaydob incha?! possibly like ** *
anyway

endless impatient and horrible faces forever forsook by their forseen customer service dreeeams…
“OOOOOOOh golly,
it’s not what it seeeems!!” :””””(((

& a customer with a horrible
attitude telling you ((who must now, to them, only be)their mumbling mirage of momentary ministrative servility) they
don’t like your attitude,
there’s something beautiful about it
a bit.


Sunglasses (soul molasses).

A shape in the head that’s
angles don’t align with
the ol’
shared normals. gives an
awkward gaze – sunlight given
out but slow though the
intake is similar – it won’t
feel familiar- I observe you
from outside much like I imagine you
observe me & knife fights
can
be
negated whilst
floating and bumping sniffling noses (and now fingers) dodge
a fin, the underwater sun’s
a-luminous anyhow

though
Not one of us cats could see!
(nous portions des S.G. à la nuit tombée?)

the non-deep &dark light
blue of the firmament
firmly meant that god is
love amongst other
attributes
(love and other Drags)


The second prince of hell’s bones.

Well I’M GWLAD that I learned to count
and I’m gwlad that I’ve climbed the mount
of being GWLAD to sit back &
sort amounts
of things we had but don’t
surmount.

Whence your scaly surface came
I could really not account,
The morbid factories of missionaries of the
bloody fount?
Excuse me it’s that Pleidiol came dreamwise (& all fat & round) to my
corner, glimmering in the light like gold but not being.


What’s a broken record?

Give me an idol’s death

& woman’s purpose

Let no one fully see my surplus

Except for Him & all his worthless
creatures under stone can’t hurt us

How many more malignant murmurs?


A rose murmurs.

Give me idle death

& women’s murmurs
That cough through lips

That spirit heard her
You Cherub! get away with murder
Open, winged, I’ll never gird you


In this age, if you do stop to read a fortune cookie slip, it is horrendously fortuitous.

A fortune cookie is right
No hocus pokes into properness even
Over time you order takeaway food
Some comes with and some without
fortune cookies
& when it does it could be one
or two or three of them
Magical variables
& on top of that sometimes you don’t
even open the fortune cookie because you’re
so hungry you just want to get
to the goodness of the central main bit of
food so sometimes they go in the bin
Or sometimes when you’re not alone eating they send one and
you let another one
have it
Are you starting to win
at the keep up of chins?
Have you seen the language the little slips
of paper have also – rotating statementself sentiments
that hold the attention like music or a
round slippy cylinder where weight
won’t want to place upon a fine point for too up
for proper long temps because
why would it want to be?
And then sometimes you open the wrapper
of it, eat the tasty orange hinted biscuit
thing, and don’t even read the slip
– Mental… who does that?!
And sometimes you eat the orange weird
shaped biscuit thing and don’t read the
paper slip though you have read it.
Sometimes you’re doing a poem thing about fortune cookies and you don’t really even mention the *Snap* of the things
except for the bits like this
If you do read do you remember it?
Some people probably keep them
I reckon this because at the moment I’m a person and I have kept
One and it says
“Your talents will be recognised and suitably
rewarded” which is brilliant because
even if you were completely shit at
everything & down on your luck you would
still be getting some element of love &
recompense through the sureness of the suitability
of what you deserve for the quality of whatever it was that one was
presently doing – as one is always doing something
presently. And that always has a quality.
But that’s obvious so what is your something?
So for so sumptuous so far summary, the significance
of these accumulations – coupled with the fact that
I’m mostly oblivious and void of shit
giving on it – I only kept one and am
not some hoary horoscope hoarder, I feel that if a
picture presents itself in perception
that’s pulled off these paper slips and
pandered to productively & the whole
time this seam of sumptuousness
may have instead been dead, something
thrown in a bin as we munched
with a grin – does that mean the
brain is just the bin??

P.s. a(nother? I honestly don’t know..) thing that will confound,
what wills which weird cookie to which
person if they send two? That is, if
you do both read them and soak your
identities with their separate significance, what if
you get their one? and they yours?
You’d be living       on the other             side of
space     then.
& all these magic variables absorb
also into eachother in a gigantic 3D mesh
of energetic mash that seriously could’ve grantedly gone
as many different ways with real outcomes as
numerous as Ganges sand grains.
Fortuitousness is fortune cookie shaped.
Weird ‘W’ shape or
something but it’s not even, eh? Weird.
Have a luck & love entered into it?
Weird. Weird.


Only correct if it is.

I think folks who would be said to be liberal westerners, minding their
business are too quick to cut off
their shit-giving about other folks
and a portal I’ve seen this come
down is the correction.
If you don’t know someone,
minding your business is not correcting
them.

In my experience a person I knew was blessed with his wife going into
labour and someone in the room commented supportively on it by saying
“Congrats on becoming a daddy”
A third person heard all
this and, because they
were aware of the first person’s already
having children, and because they were
busy in a hurry and all cool western they
looked up and out of occupation only to say “actually he’s already a father”
with the weight of it arranged contradictorily and
slanted away as such.

Oh cheers, Smith Western,
so you’d personally leave the
brand new baby fatherless?
Ah cheers bud, anyway, oh
you’re in a hurry bro, ok you take care
of yourself and yours and really try to have a
good one, bye! *He just fucks off,
silent & kind of smiling – but passing six feet
away I heard a little of
loudness of the grind of the grindy teeth,
have his wisdom wons weathered then?
And so does liberal just mean ignorant?
Maybe it dos.
And can becoming or its blur not be buttered
onto daily bread?
And what, also, is liberal linguistics to
labour? Too much de-
liberation on liberations from labia!

image