Do you think life is as easy as a breeze? Can a soprano sing without a voice? Or a virtuoso play without an instrument? You’d think I’d be air playing to an irrelevant audience Or I’d be shadow boxing without a shadow for it was very dark to tell if I could beat an enemy And there was no applause or no umpires to indicate howContinue reading “How was a diminutive songbird, God?: A poem “
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What is victory or defeat?: A poem
Would this light be foreshadowed or overshadowed, or simply be cornered taken away before it melted out of its density left in the arms of burglary. You have still called it light! And must the shade of darkness, left behind, propel you to reclaim the loss? Does the universe of such disparateness have only threads and no spine that it cannot remember or vindicate that which was divine? TheContinue reading “What is victory or defeat?: A poem “
Seems like the truth in me is beyond you all; you’d rather settle for the lie!: A poem
I hate to think I got conned, even by a slightest bit, by all that catechism of faith, hope and charity Would the laity ever wonder at all that generosity that took away the soil of their soul; and replaced it with a poverty of abysmal falsehoods? We have submitted to the regulation of organised compulsion written in spilt blood; but which fervent convert cares to remember Continue reading “Seems like the truth in me is beyond you all; you’d rather settle for the lie!: A poem “
I’ll fuck Prakash Saint Paul and Anthony Albanese, the creeps. May they both be crucified on the roads to Ro(e)me. Donald Trump, are you aware that these two sharks are biting me too much, do you want to collude with them? You know that it is very difficult for me to love, when I am robbed and tortured for loving! But I laugh at all Prakash Saint Paul’s villainy. Because I’d rather have nothing and nobody that is taken. I am neither Christian nor Muslim! I burn the New Testament and Koran! The morphing creep Prakash outdoes everything. But I don’t cry, I laugh….Hahahahaha; because he is so pathetic!
God hates Sweden, you are no number one. May Sweden be cursed to sleep for half the year and be sleepless for the rest of the year. Swedes are wedded to treachery; slithering conmen! Get your evil hands of my blogsite and fuck off to Ireland!
I don’t know if an end is coming…: A poem
I don’t know if an end is coming I just want to stay clear of the Lab rats that are snipping their teeth into the wires of my soul To end a conundrum, I’ve asked myself that I want to move to another suburb, another home; I had no party here! There was like a convoluted joke all through I didn’t feel pasteurised by whatContinue reading “I don’t know if an end is coming…: A poem “
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