montecyril

Do you not see sense with my War? Do you want apocalypse?: A poem

(Anthony Albanese, you know what your treacherous soul befits! Believe me, the reality I have reserved for you is far worse!) Do you know the evil ambitions in their underbellies have always unnerved me? That I scantily spoke through eternity, waiting that the truth they may see! But what when they only shake up all myContinue reading “Do you not see sense with my War? Do you want apocalypse?: A poem “

What is my perception for all this perseverance?: A poem

You know the stars that we see, are only a tiny fraction of the actual numbers they are! And you know, the truth is somewhere out there, somewhere out there! And it somehow, strangely overlaps our consciousness And we haven’t dug deep enough within ourselves to discover it! You see we encounter an atrophy with all our desires This is,Continue reading “What is my perception for all this perseverance?: A poem “

Jashmina, this is my telegraphic wire to you, like it or not!: A poem

You know Jashmina, I have a sheer understanding of my beauty…It is profound. It is peerless. It is magnanimous. And yet, it is tragic! Can you see the brutality and treachery it has copped, all for free?! My beauty is so perennial and everlasting that it is either murdered, or is compelled to commit suicide to retain the sanctity of allContinue reading “Jashmina, this is my telegraphic wire to you, like it or not!: A poem “

Hey Australian Broadcasting Corporation, what are you all focusing on? Tasmania or Queensland? And for whose benefit?! Poor Peter Cheater Mal-ware is feeling neglected (hahahahAHAHAHA!)! And how come you have started calling the illegitimate Labor Government the `Australian’ Government! I swear, there will be nothing `Australian’ about the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, if you dare to do that! You puppets on a string, ABC; have you no integrity at all! Shame! Shame!

Memory is like your roots, but how far?: A poem

(Could they be still trying to take away my Godhood from me?) Did you think it was only nostalgia And you panged to revisit, in spite of the sadness and pain it caused you Did the eternity blacken out every rock that causes you to shiver as if it thought it (the memory) better be dropped like shells that hide the nut of you, so, but you still retain, still being a somewhat wholesome gift of the past inContinue reading “Memory is like your roots, but how far?: A poem “

My residence/ home will never be the deep sea, that I pronounce. You fucking manipulative disgusting creeps, Prakash Saint Paul and Albanese. You spineless creeps, always hiding behind your treachery. Albanese only has a ruthless belly, where are his guts placed?

Let wherever I go be transmuted into the deep sea, for the benefit of its two fishy protagonists Anthony Albanese and Prakash Saint Paul no matter what they profess or morph to be; and let all the crowds follow me wherever I go and feed on Anthony Albanese and Prakash Saint Paul too! Hahahahahaha!

Since I can’t get rid of Prakash Saint Paul, let the evil Left and Communists rule and inherit the world. Or let Allah! I just couldn’t be bothered coming back here again! This was never my world, though I sacrificed so much for it!

Hey you fucking prick with no dick Anthony Albanese! Don’t you dare capitalise on my creativity or evocativeness! I curse you, you mean dastardly piece of scaly, scummy fish that capitalises on my creativity, so that I can’t make use of my talents! You ought to be stuffed with thornpikes! Doesn’t Jodie Hard-on’s vibrator give you any pleasure? Then ask your mother to fuck your pussy with a bargepole! Your gigolo father didn’t birth you! The deep sea shark consummated your mother. Her womb was full of roe! I blunt your teeth and shove them in your belly, that are the only things characteristic of you!

`Rod(in)’rigues is alone with himself, the thinking God!: A poem

I’d give you a vide ante of my viscosity because God slips through your fingers before you can even imagine your aptitude of staking claims. I am just interested in divining in my own cup of tea; that’s no selfishness; better than you egomaniacs. I have no heartbreak from your heartlessness, there is no warranty on my obduracy. Don’t think you can give me yourContinue reading “`Rod(in)’rigues is alone with himself, the thinking God!: A poem “