I go too deep
I swim far into the sea
I passion for my self
I change little in the world
I grow old
I am callous to the girls
I when and why
I lose how I try
I sell out to forest philosophers
I chase the wild thought like an arrowless archer
I hear the voices I want to
I imagine the hero that is daunting
I am above A.I.
I will fill all the trying points
I will answer the nation’s call
I will not let my self fall
I will writ all about the soul
I am god’s and goddesses capitalisation
I am a wise word fashion
I am filler in the news of missions
I eliminate the competition
I write too much for the friction lane of existence
I listen to the wrong radio station
I invest in bad contracts and conceive too highly of my wealth
I worked too hard and over spent on social media for my health.
Author: rrishi99
Crime and Punishment
Crime never pays
So say the echelons of the echos around Formal Hall
It is evening time and the randy Dons are doing fine
Minding fashion with their economic rations
Camel toes all the way as they espy the noblest hand me downs of the gays.
People that say too much
Poets with the handiest touch
The rules of the game exampled on a phone
See! Even they fear being alone.
Moody waves travelled the wide oceans
Searching for space to engulf an academics brain
Researching this, researching that
Bound by the formal paintings of the architects of the 9/11 attacks
Muslim v Christian ex parte spiritual worlds
How is this for no more lecture for the boys and girls
Hundreds next to thousands all eating with Harry Potter
I need a break from my self
To the imagination’s squatter.
So what for these young youths
And their open hand before the legal system?
How will they reform the reformers
When they adjust from the Don’s ancestry
Television
Exam revision
Lonely She was derided.
The ghosts of Christmas past can’t come every day.
If you search for a fight, you will find one
The fried fat disappoints the ideal visionary
But the flame in the fire of the digestive system
Eats up the discussion over dinner in a very good way.
There are things these Dons could have had to say
But they capitulated over night and day
The moon controlled their oceans and waved goodbye to the dissent
Needed over time of the cornered students on the floor.
They will rebut the military command one day
People trained not to hear what pain was to say
About a million monks and a thought from Siddhartha
About the way the world worked when Mao was not off the rack.
Keep the markets back until retail sings again
The business studies graduate and the bullies drinking again
Telling all and selling small
Keeping it all in the all and all
- Reviewing poetry
E-Commerce is for me
Then they will allow Reiki to get away from their gear and staff.
Let the children have a laugh!
It is time to go home to your room after a full stomach
Then the aching pains of missing your parents
Will be your father and mother again – no matter what their name,
When they have drifted apart again
Buying and selling
Travelling and holidaying.
See the Tibetan mill saw dust
Tell about the eyes of the Shaman lost in lust:
#And you will anoint the dirty past of fighting spiritual people
Of #And along the way…
… the things the children will say
As they go back upstairs to their rooms
Is behind you as you clean up
Dinner ladies (like Shashi) who have so much left to do.
Character
A character trying to be English
Is not a Welshman trying to be a Scot
For a Frenchman playing with the Irish
Is lost when the German is in Japan with a robot.
The Canadian playing with the American
Questions the Brazilian waxing lyrical with the African.
Then the Peruvian is selling coffee to the Columbian
Lost in strains of medicine with the Swiss and Portuguese.
The Queen of Spain pleases the Dutch
And the Maltese falcons fly south to Madagascar for the winter
The Australian demonises the British for his ancestry
While the Chinaman accepts the Llamas from Tibet back home.
These are the things my garden gnomes watch
While I hustle amongst the leaves and raze the lawn.
In such a way the world is a tripid thing to spell out loud
While the mature men travel and do business with the proud.
Connaught Place
What’s that talk you been ragging and slagging
That jive on the street the Drs have been shagging in
Their clothes in the market halls and their books in the Unis
Choose me a Curriculum for the transport of books for Ben Wright
Lover of Yasmin Khan eating Paan in Connaught Place
Raving about Statistics after fashion at Freuds for Christian raids all over the place
Changing his mind about a homosexual find
Paul Ready will travel to China.
They demand Amazon talks in the media
How is this not Slander
I can see it all cuming from here
I will be a victim again
And Rohan is not a corporate brain
Lost without my losses sharing with economies
One city – London advising on stock and shares over decades from teenagers dreams with their Drs friends of parents
PNAAC became OFSTED
Cheney went home and did drugs instead
Rumsfeld was known
Rice gave Condaleeza’s dog’s charity at Dog’s Trust a bone
And the Queen called off Crufts for a year.
Splitting the mind into China time
London stockbrokers to infinity
Into me
Not paying me Royalties
Investing in L Ron Hubbard Psychiatry
The streets are empty
There is no joy
He’s the master of happiness
He’ll diabetically medicate the boy
One day he’s in power
The Throne of thronging England
So many he has named
The British Empire will return, He said.
Look – this man is well read.
Surely this concerns me
Stories of great Yugas and Kalpas
Talks I am not included in
The dried out fruit of the lobotomised Holland and Barrett crew
Gymnastics next for your mother when she is 80 – I’ll bet
Things for human beings down at the NHS for the New Age Vets
Why don’t you waste you time giving thanks to those Gods
And choose gratitude as your punishment.
Messages in poems?
Interest in the literati
These are things to joke the day that money makes sense
Insulted by the edifices around Mike Pence
Showing the child medicine around Jill Biden
Things that Ernie van Woerkhom can control…
So much advice to give to a Self Help parent
So much intention to be the gay mother of invention.
Postmodern Poetry IV
Snow
Snow has the ability:-.>>
It is still.
Still does still,
Mushy cramped texture
Abused substance
In my hands
Things I do not understand
Vortexes of loveliness
Binding together icy fabric
{Together like a rock}
Edgy and unnerving
Bothering some windowpane
Belittling some tough guy
A patterned defamation of the expected circle
A mound in my possession
Exonerated retention
Dripping
There are chances I will take and chances I will reserve
Standing I am hopeful of pronouncing this weapon absurd.
Banned at lunchtime in school,
Chasing a fool
What can take the form of a man but be inanimate?
Would you take me seriously if my nose was a carrot?
Velvetty dissolution of meaning if I stay too close to the fire,
Why wouldn’t I personify after you described me so nice like a liar?
Sideliner
At home alone waiting for the phone
Connected by disconnected
Feeling like A.I. was one with the world
Still chasing the girls
Adrift on the ocean of too many botherings
Waiting for the Singh that sings
Of too many tomorrows
When he knows my sorrow
And the fat lady brings me to my knees in Church.
The way I lurched and waited for some comeuppance
To be brought back to the estuary of graduation
Where drowning was not an option
Like the possibility of the woman in the red gown
At an Oxford Ball
Save it all for (Jimmy) Sommerville College now
I need not know how:
>> The mentionables are removed for another crowned pleasing show.
O.S. is the best way to go
And not too personal into the showtimes and matinees
Very most performance in the technology of the U.K.
Aside from the Australian who can compare with transference
And transgender debates.
Will they still be my mates
The crew on London Thames
Boat parties and the men with the manes
Driving Miss Daisy
Sending me careless
{Crazy World}
One real woke true:
Is that for you.
I remember him well
The boy that did tell
Of my corporate weakness
And their high and dry light.
These are the days of too many frights
Memories and cave ins when I don’t sleep at night
Worried and awake about what happened? Why did the failed man address me at Port?
Grunge Music
This thing called love, Ben
I just can’t stop the feeling of sex.
What is this sex cult called Jesuit you intimate?
Why do you hate India so?
Was it the O.T. level of your father?
Is that the claim of the medical books he leaves at Birmingham University.
Top draw political science for the illusions in He
Slapping his daughter in the shanty towns of the British Isles
Something for Charles to smile about
Some more failure for the unpolitical unrest
The people without servants
Time to undress the young man George
And all that politics he has planned with Tony Wright’s photo on Images on Yahoo!
Or maybe that is not for you, Mr Narendra Modhi
An Empire from Bournville, for his secret Santa with Tony.
Porn Prabhu
There was little he could say
When the army came his way
To motion for some new things
Away from the dregs of society.
A little seaward motioning of the days spent madness
With Spenta Mazda racing down the M1
A motorway of intestinal junk
Gunk and holiday bunk beds
Readiness for the E-Meter and a joy ride in the flatulence of a Saturday sitting.
Is that me in front of the box
A headroom of Channel 4 dissent against the boardroom
Men in capers
Women and their out of place rudeness
What kind of japer is this for me to be a part of?
I’m not the Puja Porn
I did not kill the Dodo
This is no way to anticipate Sunday Church
Ridley Scott’s Gladiator – Rubery Great Park Cinema
Daily robbery
Mother in tow
When will I see the rainbows that the mushroom clouds down.
Black FTSE down
Dow Jones Day
When I see the marigolds I will know my name again.
I Man
When the Iron Man commeth
The fat lady will sing
The memory on the wall
Will bring and bring and bring.
The ringing phone
The past is never alone
Regression objectless
The people are debased
The victim’s history is traced
The raped is taped across the mouths of empty courtroom judges who aspire to higher things
Hemlock is drunk upon the self of itself
Reaping the rich wind of the merchants daughter
Taped across the mouth herself and eating cherry pie.
These are the lies of zero
And the empty thought
How can you know the second scene
When the first wonder is not amazement?
What is the brilliance of a Dr when the wages are not noted in the margin
Of hopelessness before the whiskey decanter
And missions to Mars in Oppenheimer (IMDb).
If you could replace your end results
The catharsis from film the nosey man wants
And admit the hollowness of RnB in the rampant man’s mind
Then maybe I would speak to your leaders.
“Take me to your leaders!” Cried Xenu,
Let’s see worlds unfolding
Cosmoses destroying each other
Unifying fields theorising in the matter of a retired man’s fantasy
Consciences appeased on the 2012 messages on YouTube.
Wild Stage 