HUSK

Make of it what you will..

Hold a grudge and let it fester, till it severs off the friendship. so then we can ask  What is the thing you give to me? what are the oppportunities I don’t take? Was I a king then? I can be king now, Even he chose a tunic. sometimes we just don’t want the ground to be, in our futile call for attention, giving all to matter who is to say we are not all selfish martyrs. So often we look ahead for the light at the end of the tunnel, The tunnel is hand made beautifully crafted why not stop and see if for its beauty. The man suffers from working waiting for someone to palliate him The woman worries, wishing on the toilet seat The child starves waiting for the hand to feed him love they chasing each other without, within. Your crime was not just the wanton lack of loyalty But your refusal to defend and fight for, while I was ready to fight for you. Your crime was not just the selective inattentiveness rather you watch me make your mistake again just so that you can tell me. Maybe all you is have is anger or I am just weak, thinking I was a berserker. You became the want of an id, a hopeful mumble or so you say they make you feel. Are you such for revenge have you lust for revenge? entwined in the mirthful antagonism of intuition and the repression of a clothed bonobo. To sieve through depravity, where to live a little was considered an affront to poverty, to know meant you had to suffer, My hope was that I could open you to your conscience somehow you seemed to manage without one, depraved and vindictive, keeping me honest are you? if mood is the modus operandi the face of your heart, I steal into you without your noticing and fear for my fears and peace of mind. Why should a battle scarred heart be impaled on a pyre for show. It is sex, we, Yes you and I, or the warmth of a human it is all that if the king, that terrible figure threatening entering outside my white tent shrinks when he came in my tent and lost luster why do they still deny you the vagina of conformity, cultism and the tribal nature of men. And when I eventually commit suicide I will ask all these people in my funeral Where were you when I was lonely When I Fought the body with awful chores, fought the body with aimless walk and hip injuries, back when I thought of the crime of the dusk and decide for home I will stop and think which route is the farthest, Giving all for the capacity to endure, all I have is nothing.

So this is the loneliness that bloat the stomachs of adult, some might deny it in a loveless lewd as they don’t want for us to change opinion about them before they walk in the opposite direction lonesome fetal stranger, Just then a voice will say, go inside attain gnosis, get to your god status The body can endure so much. In my dog days forever! Word of thoughts, Brawn, reading dreams and the poignant smell of sperm on a very village path charred by a rabid dog In our own little agathatopia god forever and ever, till the infinity of one point to the next, a line might exhaust the flatter why not face this and ask why the jokes get the better of us, when we think they didn’t hear it the first time and in a second attempt stamp our folly, why do we worship oxen gods in a contraption of female prostitution and male demonization, a rink of greed colored filth

We seek to open eyes where you can’t lose your guard against anyone even if the spur of the passing moment make you talk to your sworn enemy, looking away and looking sideways planning revenge on borrowed life, reticence and mockery the only violin this slave needs. I have always hated noise emotional, physical and what have you, a molly cuddled bellows of ache to announce a dull pain to any who will listen? In tiger nuts and gelatin I occupy and bloat, enemies salvaged everywhere from saliva to bat of lashes any and every can get you killed. I was born of this world to ration commute, and commit that which can never be used up leave us stark mad, walking the street at night Looking for someone to blame your suicide on, Opening the scam the heart thaws inordinately like a snail snipped. Opening brings out tears. Oh to see, to be seen and not helped,To feel , to feel nothing at all, to scrape at the bottom and say I will outgrow the pain, to do it all over again.

Still we cant trust anyone, when every seeking smile seems sinister when every laugh look like an accomplished ploy, You tread carefully, twist ankles, smile sadly die over and over again in a Life as frustrating as a boil on the knee of a pupil, where grapplers profess love through tough pain, if the first jab of the goad is too painful as we drop our hands in surrender, do we drop our dreams. you will never find it so why not like me make holograms of happiness and smile into space No one can take that from me. All I see is before me, my face shouldn’t betray me, While I sieve through the same farts betoken of a life on rice with nothing to assure me, they called me careless I decided to not have at all, how then can I lose what I don’t have, Look the stranger that reaffirms his status! Just after you thought they were more, thinking come to me all you smile and family and look for yesterday’s hate. The endless strife when another face reminds you of family, of hope, but mud is sitting pretty in every hopeful face. Chased because you can’t stay, have you ever heard a voice so loud So hurtful, it creates a shadow that haunts their after smiles lurks behind their dry jokes and laughter you are unable to feel at ease from the best of their sustenance any where will do, Have you felt a care so abrasive It shouts prescriptions into your coy mind challenging your crippled soul to a marathon of worry and emotional blackmail. Atomize all of life’s problem on the skipped stone that sinks eventually, we are all going to die, atomize all of life strife to the pain in my arm we will never find peace.

Blame it on the totemization of the vagina life’s biggest push and it needless mayhem, noise everywhere create a wanton neediness for a man inured, unfeeling and bland. The smell of ego when the mad make noise, when an acquaintance denies you a familiar greeting, when my neediness limits you, when I see and you don’t see me too, I have found it the easiest hard to feign the simplest thing to do without, to live besides a woman and be free of all form of hatred. to do everything slow never rush, the days are longer than you think, Is this the longest suicide note you will ever see? She will run out, of her illiteracy go and climb the roof top portraying how her husband have had her just to bring him to the base where she lays with senseless wheedling everyone begs from their position of pride, some are higher than others, some are willingly ready to go down for the sake of apotheosis, to bring joy out at every minute at a moment notice be kept on stink so as to be the topping in at the entrance of the trap, but if stink is appraised and demystified it will be awarded its accord and placed under sadly. Sway,lie in peaceful quiet rest your heavy stomach Breathe, hear the cricket sing Release all the noise within, Draw, let your hand slide, stay let the word move beside close your eyes Be vulnerable for a while, digest, hear the names of your farts and say Its okay to be alone

Totemization of he vagina is to blame in a shroud that have kept brothels open for ages born into a world with everything but love, technology comes and take away our last hope - conversation so you are stuck at bank with appealing and appraising strangers in a microsecond, strangers you think will complete you, strangers that look like the porn stars you masturbate to, you cant find peace, sleep, or that face. you are stuck stifled in between gluteus you can run from the stink and like the soft cheeks a mite,To goat around to bask in the lyre of Dionysus in order to be a part of the pack all ends in anthology, once denied play at is peak and that which is without guile, inability to lick to touch and be reciprocated in total lewd savagery without loses, without regret, to do it all over again saying save me from pain I am no pressure pad, save me from pain to do in life requires an elixir. Never will I be able to emulate the damage they have done to this man, some hate but they might not have the brain to do right so as not lay another foundation for this repressive culture man’s way of getting everything but the sex; The big house, a hug that never happened, the big car, a smile not returned; the private jets, missed sex floating and over sexualizing us in a clitoris tickle that leads nowhere, but If everything is covered with the blood of Jesus how will we see, every stupid strife, accursed hope, since to fight against Abrahimism is to fight greed and boy will you suffer because you will never find peace where you lie in the murky icky that strands where we stay stuck in a limbo of self satisficing uncultured, untouched and bare. 

In this valley of totemized vagina where selling flesh at the cost of repression, our society is stuck devolved in an eternal aerosol chase that rots them in a phallic stage, it beguiles in every look selling It and not selling at all, laying waste to people and rotting our brains and justice system, one will have to see it off and look away it's luster if it shouts loudly in your eyes as confusion in every form, it is Only we that have had to watch it fall, only we have to watch it rot, see a nation crumble see a people de-civilize, roads dilapidated, it becomes the role of our generation will tell a tale of decay all for a lack of acceptance from all by all 

Say; Love is not food, love is not sex, It isn’t money or being first, Love is comfort relaxation and fetal positions, Love is calm reassurance and endless smiles, It is hope strength and alacrity, it is joy and happiness through and through. It is the smell of your love The taste of her saliva, it is the laugh You can’t get out of our your head The gurgling sound that comes before them and the shout of every tickle it is the joke we all know and never feel awkward for, It is company, friendship and camaraderie It is acceptance and believe in our never ending stupidity Love is true concern, fight and helplessness it is worship, adoration and the truest law, It speak through the dumb and filter into the drums of the deaf It gives the blind sight and make the lame fly, It empties hate, correct serial killers and know what it wants amidst these confusion or simply put There is no love only greed, even the truest of the true fuels a developed martyr complex. My heart, my snipped tentacles busy choosing the best suit for a funeral, gloomy faces trying to eat happiness as food wear happiness as clothes Watch happiness as movie, Death our beloved and looming in our tumultuous life warning don’t be caught dead wearing slippers, Folly, in the not following, ours noon a time, where everything seems normal, Language our only barrier, goals in sight. Aren't We are all just monkeys making noise In search of anonymity in a better gall, into self stimulating pain and examined questions of the privileged failure, thought the friendly tap on the shoulder the one we see nothing in, and the ones that we see everything in.  It is the love of money the system of control, stifling love, ungrateful heart, hardened mind, teaching a lesson and growing fat. Numb tongue and ears, empty hands and folded legs, we are bitter looking for heaven, acceptance and the games we play for it. Betrayed, ignored and curse, still chased after by a curse we to say “ You shouldn’t be alive, if you have to beg to eat" victims of senseless blood sport but Guess who get killed by that curse, me, who is also at the edge of punching and clocking in of emotions at break neck speed like a factory of dolls just when you get used to a certain model and adjust to the mistake before you, Life changes the model and you back as a beginner the joy is to admit your mistake like a man rather than feel like we are doing the right thing and remain adamant on a borrowed thoughts of dead man called tradition, borrowed social constructs, let people be, you just might be wrong, pelleting happiness, constant pain, constant rejection, eternal fear what if’s, and repression the eye that look for, the eye that hides and shames love from every one

The pain of other that acquire pain into the passage of the life You have to suffer just because, Pass on suffering and repression as tradition to pass on hate and preconceptions as living patterns And when we find that fault and boy do we see them, Inside is a very empty stomach a very numb heart beating ceaseless in a dead body, so they say reach for happiness in the stretch of our spine the fountain of youth and do yoga, when you speak a hindrance to my brain to show my names and in search for fame, playing games blame the dead with heavy hearts in the dark of the night when we remember how rash our conversation was. To open an eye, sexual naivety is promise which is the only reason i am still a prostitute in search of clearer skin cucumber seeds in my flushed water and call my self enduring love like a sea that intends to drown all, all to feel small

So to change, change activity as activity changes your aura so take a walk fellow northerner the search for meaning a privilege The ceaseless defiance of the in-conscientious human on a greedy cacti path Once again I have gone to the market to buy love She is never around, on a long trip they tell me But I believe she will be back, I pull the weeds from her shed Dust her counters of with my black elixir, had to make, easy to finish. My tired cheeks, stretched to the limits, To watch what we do for acceptance as we try to swim in scythe of awareness, acceptance, anonymity and aberration

To navigate through the fear of others and all that it portents to, and the fear of dying by the hands of an ignorant man or controlled by one, It is true that I am thirst, if these are the sluices of the self, this is the thirst of a tap caused by the ineptitude of our counter-folk the hated, the utter folly, whose alchemy chase us to Alcohol our security when we are blue, poor man inured and addicted to succumb to love yourself is the biggest fad now, but isn’t it almost like pulling a big bucket of water from a deep well only to hold it and pour the water back into the well blame it repression One wrong step, you could be ten years older or it could be just yesterday When will my greed stop, who will try to pacify all these babies as we are all trying to get back to normal trying to get back to fine, deteriorate irreparably  being lots of love and nothing at all

 Furthermore I can’t constantly reinvent spark in a world full of fear, few and ephemeral happiness amidst the constant jabs of disappointments where we cannot sit still and hum easy. To live to hear one's heart beat, see ones’ leg move Looking for love in a group of faces, in a world filled with homo slouched necks What can you remember what can you change,thank goodness husk is biodegradable if fit gently into place.

by

Victor Samuel