The moon is behind us

It is illuminating the sky
But we don’t look back
We watch the pebbles aground
as we meander on a forgotten
shore of plunder, piety unfound
You look like Santa
Why do you do that?
I will never understand
your hidden groves and orbicular
hooves

Danger is a masked friend
that goes to all the most-fashionable
ladies gallerias
She marches in with her bell-shaped dress
sashaying tether and thither

We live in a glass globe
The outside is dust-covered
mourning because no one looks
All are living and breathing inside
stuffed in bags with polyurethane
Taped for transit
alcoves brimmed with masters
lurking in the seaside-caves

Where do you get your Eve’s Ale?
Must you go bucket in hand to the well
Sliding the rope through your balmy fingers
See the shinny trickle and think
Life blood, circulating
How underappreciated are the elements
They follow fast-sucked down drains
Oil residue transcendence, naught
Sludge underground, visits the rat army
Flaked with soot from centuries of soil
Cataclysmic doom….
She smiles on, momentarily forgetting
Or accepting her fate

Corpsicle Star

Lick remedy from your finger
Doesn’t it taste pleasant?
Like retinal strain and phony compliance
Chunks of non-dilutable coffee powder
Sticking to your murky brow
Flecks of undiscoverable asteroid
Exploding in your intestines
Bleeding dark matter into your emotions
Head slumped you face an evaporating void
Floating in space, dying to crumble, contract
Schism into non-existence
But it isn’t your choice to be or not
What occupation is worthy of
Undesired flesh?

brothels

How many brothels are in London? Why must police need performance incentive to take action against criminals? Why do people continue to find historical slavery appalling yet at the same time ignore modern day slavery? Why do people remain indifferent while millions of women, men, and children are suffering? Why is there such a lack of awareness about the issue and scale of human trafficking? If millions are forced into lives of degradation, who and how many are the people forcing them into it? Why would authorities and common citizens turn a blind eye? With so much sexual exploitation of women and children we must ask, what is happening with men? Why are men desirous of these types of actions? How many men are aware that so many prostitutes in brothels are actually being held against their will?
Men make the excuse that they didn’t know the women were being forced into this position, but this is a falsity…for there are men who, when with a prostitute sexually abuse and even kill the prostitute, certainly they know a woman would never willingly subject herself to this abuse. Then we must consider those men who capture the trafficked women, who force them into captivity and who rape them repeatedly before the women, or children, are even put into the market. These men do not care about the physical well-being of the individual woman or child; they do not care if she is in pain. They only think about their desires for sex, power, and dominance; what is causing the world to be riddled with these types of men? What is causing men to become like this? What makes men so bad? What makes people in general bad? What social constructs are being instilled that cause people to form behavioral tendencies that endanger others’ human rights? Where does this horrid lack of empathy come from? How are men able to be violent without for one instant sympathizing with their victim?
UKBA believes those trafficked are there by choice instead of forced and exploited.

“anti-slavery legislation aimed at requiring companies with turnovers above £100m a year to publicly disclose the efforts they are making to ensure that their supply and product chains and business practices are free from modern slavery.” http://www.guardian.co.uk/law/2013/mar/09/shameful-failure-slavery-trafficking-uk
March 10, 2013

They met when she was 13.

They met when she was 13. He was different from the other young people around her. He was in her world but he was different from all the others. He made being different cool, before him, the only way to be cool was by being like everyone else. She was crazy, sure, but…with him that was okay, even valued. So she would talk to him late at night, while she got drunk at a very young age, feeling the flawlessness of youth, as if this very thing had never happened before, as if it would never happen again. She had phone sex with him. He said at first he was faking it, then got into it later. Didn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. Yes and she wanted to die, she always wanted to die.
It doesn’t matter.
She doesn’t know who she is anymore but when she listens to old music, she remembers who she used to be…and still feels that self somewhere, deep down inside her, and wonders why doesn’t anyone recognize her….when she moves to a foreign country?
But she was a little girl once, a pretty pretty girl.
So she knew this guy in middle school…then later in high school. Under completely different pretenses. Sunflowers and friends abound. Love and wet flowers, blades of grass sticking to your thigh. Eggs and coffee, more lost feelings, didn’t matter…the next escape happened.
Then again, why on earth must everything be repeating? This last time though, damn. Joined at the hips and seemingly at the minds in some zone. No matter the feelings, things always go away. She wants to say, thanks to you….she told me to let you know. You son of a gun, she told me to let you know.
You told her that you love her, then you gave her some of your qi. You expelled it. You defiled her with your insincere blasphemous ejaculate.
But you aren’t guilty, not any more than anyone else is…probably even less, but it still isn’t good.
It is faulty and unremarkable. It is what every…typical of…someone who is so dying to live, is expected to be. Pure mirrored coolness. Nothing but cold water dripping
And what you really wanted to find in the bathtub.
Heaven knows…it doesn’t matter.

vague spray

I have the moon but not the sky
I am the yoke without the egg
I have the sparkle but none of the star
I have the diamonds in your eyes
They are in my pocket

I can take it all away from you
I can hear nostalgic tunes
And turn them into smells
Atrocities beckoning from past shores
We cannot wash away the sand
In our bellies and under our noses

All inclusive love munch
Bunch them all into one
Bouquet of candy tantalizing
Rusted roses
When you don’t want other people
Ever to see your groove
Flee

The fire is rising, bons usher in death
And reviving of the soul
The non-existent human essence
Lies in what we create
Reverberations
Calamity manifesting in circles
Under your eyes
And on your pillow
The soft one you call honey

She can’t make you
She can’t make you come
Trapped and deflated
But it is looking up
Under dawn, laying in a circle
Fumes of synthetic life
And nodes of rhythm
Fixate, under your night shade

supression of…

The arc of your dress
The shape of your body
Your mind pressing into me
Sweat, muscles, pumping
Tiring, drenched
Stupid people, always the
Stupid people
And your stupid jokes that…
Aren’t funny and no one…
Laughs, foolish girl.

There is a room waiting, where
A clown sits on a wooden
chair. Dressed up in rainbow
Wig, big red nose, blue laced up boots
Green smile and purple eyes.
Smug grin, no one can see anything.
Like looking at a flower and…
Saying it’s a star. Seeing a star.
What are you doing here? My vase
Is….lacking fundamental material
To hold a star up.

Speaking, chatter, inhale, exhale
Swarming of words, social interaction.
Pulsating with weighty meaning.
Flexing in and out ignore all.
Lose track, get micro, then macro.
Fall into your own mind, thoughts, be…
Trapped, never can you get out.
Don’t listen, cringe, hide, turn away.
Create utter oblivion; it isn’t so hard.
Already, that is all that exists.

All you can do is be quiet, stop the
Internal beast, the one that
Forces you to see what there isn’t
To create what their shouldn’t, needn’t be.
Analyze, strategize, paint, morph, melt. Die.
See it all, understand little. Choice
Of destination, choice of vision. Twilight
Midnight, stars or Hills, tumbles
Or careful precision. Everything
Mixed, one global pot, eat from all.
Impossible to try the complete magnitude
Always your senses will not be enough.
Choose your sight, mind’s eye, third reckoning.

Ceremonial garments of silk, amber lace.
Beauty in ritual, cloaked, strangled
Cut off from other races, set apart
Differentiated, pooled into a mould.
Do you fit your dress? Too tight?
Restriction is the name of the game.
I told you you would never get out.
Dose on drugs, delight in new sight
New sight. Old sight, new sight.
All questions crowding around your head.
Will satisfaction ever be granted?

Make a list of all your life’s catastrophes.
Frame it; put it on your wall, in the living room.
Don’t hide your fate, fate is what has happened
And what is left to be seen.
See more, put more up.
Put up what you don’t see.
See what you want. Make it appear.
There can be no mistake.
Determinism, free will, existentialism
Choice no choice.
Little girls, with gold on, jewelry, ready to be
Put to market; here come the men
Now to buy, enslave, rape, spread
Her legs, a quiver, the both of you, for
Two different reasons.
Sick pleasure and sick suffering.

Does life take revenge on the savage?
Who will get bitten back, will we
All suffer? From top to bottom, in
Out, all. Is forgiveness sweater still?
A flower ripped out still plants its seed.
We will grow, revenge may occur,
Serenity never sown, False pretences
Love only a fog, mystery with great remorse.
The water moves, cool, blue, wet
Splashing, spraying, rising, diminishing.
One sun one moon laid to rest
It is good night; all is dark, no stars
For our eyes can no longer
See the light.

We crawl on the beach, winged crabs
With melting thighs, soaked in butter sand
Grilled up, tossed, left out of cages.
We know not where our wings went.
We know not that we had wings.
Fried blue crabs, coddled till death
The whole world is a bubble
Earth is a self-sustaining statue
Of ever fluctuating stone, lava
Growth. Cerebral perception
Limited by the cerebral. Nobody knows.
Nobody cares. Give me my money;
Give me my food, house, let me have
Babies, the opportunity to earn in
Blindness, shrouded with bitter spurts of
Happiness, clarity or confusion
Just let me be.

Central Pooling

The sprinkling fire coming from my pores
Speaks of unrequited majesty
Bleeding green ooze followed by
Bone deterioration and weakening ores
Cells struggling under tar pulling
Dying arms and fists up into the air
Emaciated little bundles of flesh
Too dull to snap falling back
The earth confiscated what was once
Flying around mazed and incomplete
Oily rainbow pool at the center
Rippling out reverberating endlessly
Never reaching another entity

typical trouble between the sexes, thought example

I don’t appreciate him not calling me when he says he is going to call me and every time he does it he has some reason and he says sorry and I say it’s ok don’t worry about it love but how many times can he do this and it will still be ok? How many times can he do this before he thinks he can just not call me back and say sorry and everything will just be ok? How many times can this happen before he takes me saying it is ok for granted? How many times can he do this before he thinks I should always just say it is ok? How many times do I have to think about this before I say fuck it? The time might be approaching. He fails me so much, can he possibly stop or change? I am not saying that there shouldn’t be allowances made and I am not saying that I want him to not feel free, like if for some reason I couldn’t call him back when I said I would I don’t want to have to worry about him being crazy upset about it, but if do it again and again and again, I might understand him being upset. I am the only one who can be at fault here. He can not call me back again and again and the only person who can be at fault is me if I get upset about it. What I want is to be done with this relationship. I don’t want to be done with him; I love him with my whole heart, but I want to be done with caring so much about it. I want to be done with wondering if he is the perfect man for me. I want to be done with wondering if he could possibly be all the things I want and need him to be. I want to be done with wondering if he could be strong enough to be with me. I want to be done wondering if he is mature enough to handle such a relationship as we have. I want to be done with wondering how serious he is about this relationship. I want to be done with wondering how long it will take before we at least get engaged. I want to be done wondering how long it will take before we get married. I want to be done wondering about all this. If it were meant to be wouldn’t it just be and I wouldn’t have to worry about it? There are countless other people who are able to make this happen but I can’t seem to get a guy to marry me. Is there some trouble with me or do I just keep picking the wrong guys who could see themselves with me in the long run but aren’t actually ready to make that step of commitment. And if they are not ready shouldn’t that be a sign that they might never be ready and I should leave them behind and learn from the relationship? He doesn’t think he has to do what he says and he thinks I should always be understanding about it then he thinks he can just put me and my feelings on hold and deal with them when he is available. This is in no way good for me. I lay there like a naked slab of meat for him to jerk off to and this is how he treats me? Fucking fabulous. It is likely that all men fail, almost all the time.

a class today

Things seem to be going very interestingly for me. I have my new job which I like very much, to my boyfriend’s disadvantage, well not really; I am just supposed to go back in a short time and if I am too happy here maybe I won’t go back. This is the problem I suppose. But I don’t want to talk about that. My classes are so interesting sometimes; I get to talk about basically anything I want; there are rules about discussing politics but sometimes, a lot of the time, it is appropriate and I really enjoy hearing what they have to say, as long as I move on quick enough or don’t make it too obvious that I am ridiculously interested in what they’ve got to say, not any more than a normal teacher should be anyways. English corners sometimes are the best because you have a lot of different students in one classroom of all different ages, well, all adults, mostly, and from different backgrounds with different ideas about the world; they vary so much it is astounding but I suppose like any other country. It is like my students are my specimens in my great social experiment but I am both the active scientist and the passive observer. I love it. For example today I had an English corner on marriage, very interesting I tell you. Some of the women felt like there is no such thing as real love, that it only seems like it before marriage then after marriage it turns into something else; one woman even said her husband loves her son more than her. And I was like, pardon me if I am rude, but do you feel like a tool? Can you believe I said that to her? Well if you know me I am sure you can believe it. And she said yes, she feels like a tool. One man said if you believe in true love then you will have it and if you don’t then you won’t and that young men don’t believe in true love but old men do. One student wanted badly to be a football player for his province but he is too old now and he was not picked because his leg was hurt at that time and it crushed his dream. First of all, I think the way China does sports needs to change; people only get one chance here to play and it is completely unfair; and I think this guy is only 27 so he isn’t even too old but in China he is; it is so whack. He needs to have another dream and his new dream is that he will make a big influence on a group of people; I can’t remember exactly what he said now but it certainly left a big impression on me and made me a little dreamy on the inside, seeing as how I have the same ambition. So I guess he was right about something else; he said women are easy to make dizzy, easy to happiness and easy to love. I really don’t agree with him but he is right in a lot of ways, just not that all women are this way but certainly a lot of them are. A lot of the women were able to acknowledge the inequality between men and women in marriage, both in the past and still today with regard to a woman being limited to the domestic sphere after marriage. Oh so many things to think about with a class like this and this is why I love this job. I get a group of people, all willing to talk to me and answer any question I want and it is a different culture than the one I grew up in which makes it even more interesting to study; I would like to study every culture but here I am with this one and the window/door is open so big for teachers here to attempt to truly understand this way of life. I can study my culture and my country sure, but I must study others. I really like that one boy student though, I really do.

that guy

There was a man who once claimed to be able to ride a bike with no handle bars. Well, my friends, I just one uped his ass. I can ride a bike with no wheels. Yes, it does take a lot of imagination, but that is all I have left.

Side note. Global Economy. People are worried that we are going to be taken over by the Chinese. I’m not. But I also drink, smoke and eat unhealthy. I suppose I should worry about dying at 35. But, I’m not. We should all just work together. But we dont. We have crazy people all around us. Every country. News likes to just make them seem bigger than they are. There not. Money, that seems like it is important. Chinese might think so, we own them quite a bit. Lets see if they will shake ups upside down to take our lunch money. We are the country that shoots the bullies. Then becomes the bully. Then is like, everything back to normal, right mates. Just sweep that under the rug we will. Sorry. But it could also be because corporations have a major say in our country. What I am trying to say is, I have got a friend in Jesus. Seriously. Best prices on dro.

So that was my first post ever. I understand that it is mostly incoherent, and a jumble of thoughts, that may or may not be lacking emotion. What I say to you good sir or madam, time for tea?