colonialism

Saying It While I See Part 4

/ rrishi99 / Leave a comment

I cannot recommend
The brain strain to the end
Of the format for the demand
Of how to set up Christian.

Then there is the Flan
And you have to leave Pakistan
To mellow out with LinkedIn
Out of synch and out of sin.

This much it is to try
To work with that Fapohunda guy
Who came to me to say
I’ll make it now good any day.

Mr mister and Mister
Why don’t you talk to your sister
Following every word like a hawk
Not admitting you left the cue ball at baulk.

Some have to reason some have to say
What it is that helps them to work in a given day
Some have to grieve some have to stay
And this way, said Jesus, I am newer than thousands for play.

Reduction

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He is 1/500th the millionth part
Of the man I used to be in the start
Of a project where the goal is target number one
For the Way & the Hero: ~~

Come to me, now
Sell up your shores on the broken battles.
Those tired machines are art in the dreams of morons,
Who will they know?How will they be counted?
Scene by scene in the anime dream
Poking and toking
Joking about Loke.

Okely Dokey : That’s all they had to say
As the school grass grew wildly
And neither teacher nor parent won that day.
Every day?…
Every, every day?…
Sell me a fuck or Fuck OFF with me!

Switch off, his celebrity.
Change your mind, celebrated kind.
Change our change and spend your kindness,
Retire with us and pay us back for the broken image of Heartland.
What else don’t you understand?

What school was reprehensible – as my fashion was demeanable
Alternative type
Zero stripes
Military drape
Wife of the black man.

You’re a no man again
And I won my pain!
I am Victor next to Malthus
So that St Germaine is my French strain.

Common chill blaines – walking shore to shore as an immigrant talking about the door being shut on Jabba the Hut.
“Hello there too!”
I’m in your grandfather’s house as well.
Come in and I’ll shoot
The Porn is on reboot!

Exclaiming typists style away the YouTube braying of anticipation
Constant present awareness and nondual fidgeting without Capital.
Capitol Hill and the same men chill without Charity day of Chang
For a job that can rearrange,
The Drugs
The Thugs
The Harmony
The Druids and the Balmy Army…

Why do these questions plague me?
Centuries have I waited for a computer
Art is a mirror that makes us look away
It here for modern Kings to have their Thor’s day
IMDb and all that Brie
Save some for me, Lady Anastasia
All the men’s children and all the lady’s Portillo besides the braided bunch of lunch inspired speakers about twice a week instead of God’s sod off day Day Off.

Cough twice if you have heard about Nadia Nyce
Stamp three times if you think Bree Olson would be nice
Piano ties
Eyes that cry
Times like mine
Cooking with Thyme.
What the broth will cum up
When there is one big fuck up
And the acting breaks the Montego Bay railing
Far cry from the fast cars that did the jailing
Save all your pissing for me
When I am on ITV – and the plans for the Spandex hit my Decks at a quarter past the Tree of Knowledge.
Fuck what you were taught in your Daddy’s chair
While he stared
And the Beatles cared
Who dares lost
And the cost is a Valium
In the Valley of the Shadow of Death
Far from the prestigious breath of the outgoing Ujahi
Settlers on the Plains of Shiva and his Pranayama for Parvati.

There will come a time
When time will come to time
So that computers came to earth
Before the woman 9 monthed stoney births.
TV
Baby
Kazapow & ???…///:: Ping Pyao! Bang Bang Bom!!!!!
How long have you known.
                                                 About the Stone.
“Say something so high up there
I’ll be a Yuppie’s mum so aware
Of the rich things she’s driving they haven’t got
And the teacher at 75 who is ISKCON lost”

!Don’t you want my babies
Don’t you want a whore -awe -inspiring man -aweawaw”
——– The End|

Pay Tree Ark

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When the good debt was folded
And the sacred bird had flown
There was one who was Awake
Top of the hat to his own.

They called him Jeff and let him ride
So far to the other side
That the mentionables were kept afloat
By the shopping he did around the moat.

The moat they built in the past
When Canary Wharf was not going to last
Because his kind kindly sung to the Police
Of knowledge that left them fucking Analese,

[Remind me how to spell @ When his witches are in Hell]
, another one of his little fertile girls
Showing me the balance of Time
For the rhythm of a rhyme
And how to Hare Krishna power=share just fine.

Krishna is just fine, thanks for asking
Rama will be grateful for his Shabba Ranks, canal driven man
Down the Maine Street with the Wilberforce treats
Stuck in a traffic jam no matter what Lady Marmalade says next.

That’s EnlightenNext: Up and off there for some Techno=Fest
Costing the coasting Guru Nanak some Repo action
For all his fancy foot action
What was it? At the end of the day….
…
…
Sigh No More and Sai Baba is gone
What was the pleasure in losing his song.

One
Two
And not Zee
Maybe the Charmed twins got up to three?
Who was the Guru – who was the Pen?
When will the showtime get back to the Penitentiary
Internationally Amnesty International planned by me
To settle the nettles on the floor for more than £10.

Come down to laughing out loud
Om Shanti to the quoting men
Speak to batallions raised from the streets
Chant wildly of Ken Wilber eating out Chinese food whenever his old age
Walks
Talks
On all fours
The Missing Link
Guru & some smelly pink socks on The Big Think
Call me a PhD
Watch me Pee
“Can I have a P please Bobby?”
There is friction between us in The Sea.

Fraternity
The final filial piety
Count slowly as you walk away from me
That the hour passes slowly from when we die.
Too shy
Too rich
Too regal
Such a bitch!
Why would you WAG
When you could Hag,

And The Chase screened to Manhatten
The Questions you would like?
Back to Jeff and old man Bally
Down the Classy Junction
For some Gurdijeff and Gurdwara function.
But time is not so kind to all and this is a time to the Recorder
So that when action is in inaction and Jazbaa is spoken
The Fake Alexander is O’Neils at last for some New World Order.

Ole 2 Gramma (!#@?)

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Load the Sangeet
Dance with my feet
Stray sleepers on the street
That’s not where we meet.

Fanciful debonair desires
The heart is still on fire
For what the TV brought
When the ships returned nought.

How can I be rude for you
When you have the Moon to review
And your conspiracy crew
Is full of their own truth.

Jesus is for you
After you nailed him to the Cross
And told the story for us
Of your yesteryears and wankers’ Tax and Overdrafts.

Shares on the Shaadi
Come over with the Commons
Share the commotion with one of your Literary Reviews
Your just just not going to get the Kiplings cakes on, are you?

It’s always the same
With the Colonial strain
Something feminist and then some chilblains
If they don’t see it for themselves with Dwayne.

Hassle free Texts
Something frilly for your Ex
So I can be betwixt my vexation
Always late for your non invitation.

How?
Brogues.
The lounge.
Lozenges.

// Whatever could it have been
COVID and the streets of CCTV
When the waters were civilized
And more TV passed a Prince’s eyes:

  • For the child he just just could not see
  • When the Willow the Wisp was not I-SPN
  • Heroes see.

Mr 2 Write

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There are things you say I should not say
Like sorry to the hedges I cut on the way
When I sold my shares initially in sorrow
To buy my way out of footsie for tomorrow.

I’m the best, my nation said so
That’s the way that one’s got to go.
#AndWhenImDone there’s nothing left to do
Except folly and old fortune for the Armada Hampstead crew.

Battle me this and cohabitate me with the vacuum that:
Where is the honesty in the open handed approach to the road :-
The road east of Vancouver where the radio check is preapproved
Like a beer t-shirt ripped open for the cover of Summit recovered.

Too easy to shin and far over the older beard to shine
There is a head where the coupling will be diners.
It’s not all sandwiches at Waitrose when the beat is on the minute;
Leave me an iPod when you get the time to be on a zillion.

My Henry Kissinger and that’s the top hat blown
Like the Top Hotel we have not shown with all the shows on far from Noam.
Is there any cover left for the car he is bereft off having not shown foam
For the parties he carries a tune for. Mr Canary and the way back home.

From Siam I have flown and known the airport underneath my feet
Where the Jetstream is some cold cleaners and Mr Sheen for the Air Host’s feat
To jump so many moons to keep up with those Shrooms
And whatever did not Clear while Florida kept Ron Hubbard with Martin Clunes.

Underground with the dune buggies and up top where the hatch is blown
So much more the Saviour, so much more the way back home.
Something for me and something for you
A way to the routine in Jalandhar for the coded cabin crew.

Something for me and something for you
Take anything you like from the top shelf: I’m done with the quarterback Jew.

Lyres in the Mourning

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The lies in the morning
Are nothing compared to the lies in the mourning
That I undergo when I see the wake
Of the aftermatch of what you would take:
Oh Cultured One!

O Scion of Bharata!
Championed you are of so many ages
Have you terrible times to take in my Paiges
#TheREASON I store the castles with plenty
#FORTheMoNeY you would educate me on
When your witches are stuffed with envy.

I have seen you all before
The shoes, the velvet linen and the open door:
The is nothing more than the ships at the front Port
Where the lady’s men come shopping in
And my Country is dissipated by the veritable Gin.

Ahoy! There – Condom’s Mates & a barrel of Laffs!
Shall I sell you the Churches when you call my Cross crap?
Or would you seldom be aware
Of the deer crossing the banter
To watch in silence
The Bambi being led to the slaughter?

Take time for the new
& sell up some land for a Studio affair.
Then get on with Social Media
& let me know about the men with all the long hair.

The skateboards, the washboards, the one’s I am bored of but still tolerate: –
Then in the evening we’ll advance to Hindustan
And your rich husbands can be banal and vain
Tell the Flying Yogi he is better of dead than in Levant.

Levitating man!
So hard to understand!!
Where is the Corporate Plan?
It’s in my other non writing hand…
So far to understand… …
#space
#bar
#freehouse
#drunk
I thunk I saw a Partition Twat!

These are the pages of the Starship Troopers
Their Missionary Statement is to:….
… Of fuck off!
Answers on a postcard
To the man called Chekov:
Who still listens still to the Parable affair
Of how he sees the Bhagavad Gita flying in the polluted air.

Low Life

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The cases wot
The course is hot
The searches are lots
The menace is still pot.
They pot a plant
They plant the pot
They pottery to plant on me
They plant pot in the pottery
But nobody told me!

Why didn’t you tell?
School Teacher, God & Father / Son…
#Complex
Consideration
Offer and Exchange the Aeons then
In a state of Zen
When the pen hits the floor
And the rhetoric is 24/7 on your daughter’s bedroom.
Rhyme for “HIM!!!”

Wyman
Jagger
Jaeger
Jagged Edge :
What is this music in the hedge?
#Withness
The Silent Witness of pages of E
Allah is zindabad
The sin is bad
When
Why What Wherefore
There is door and cupboard & he sort us out hard.

Stars do Unto when the money is for you
So the Holy can do what the Holy can do::
But || I want to be a Star ||
                                         She FELL some trees and they are far
    We have met again
                                       We have met again

Comment on the emanation
Seldom is there a worthy nation
The Bhutanese are not far from ease
When the Saturn turns past the first past the post.

There are those who need love the most
There are those who were loved the most
But those who have the most money
Should not find time so funny.

Laughter in Westminster about the East
Time to Feast
Time to Feast
Quoting a Critic and eating in the East.

What about Indonesia
Erdogan’s on his knees
They all wanted to do trade with China
But your dishes were shared with Shaava Shaava.

Back at class
Stuck on the word Ass
giving
Curriculum-ing

banking
It’s all Academic NOW!
{ We can’t even be here now
So how can we be there with a Wow
Nobody went past the same Celebrity twice
Aliens would spelled The X Files rather nice
For a Quarter past Tory }

Stores
The hoardes
Stories for the boards
Tread carefully on the dreams of the streams of the tears from the fears of the leering men who drink Beers..
.. sell me Beer Britain Army
… teach me some Whiskey for Grants
…. drive safely
….. think irresponsibly

But do not come home upset at RnB
That was for me
Then I had a scene
They were being mean
And we had a sheen
There was closet things
I had phones that rings
My friends weren’t into Bling
And the Nigger knew what he meant.Call me again : Alligator – When will you have a B

                                                                             R

                                                                             A

                                                                              I

                                                                             N

Let Me Go

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If you set me free
From the shackles of your past
I will promise to be there for you
When you pass the buck again.

It was alright for you
Trojan warrior and horse play
Crew neck T-Shirts and jumpers
When you wanted the Blue Review.

It was behind you
And you had all the settling you wanted
From the beginning to the end
Now I have to make amends.

And you throw all of history
Away like a life lined with letters
And a member of the illiterate
With the Illuminati beside Thee.

Save some thoughts for me
Let me get back to you
And see if I can do good too.

This is for you
Mt poetry emission truth
And see if you climb down your Ego.

There, I said it.
And my O.S. is just fine
Thanks for asking
It’s all in the taking, you see.

Then we can journal and write whatever you see as right
Just let me know what light is left on with the West v East so uptight.

GueTonEd

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They told me I wanted to do one
So I lie and lean to the left
There is sorrow within me
Passion knows knowledge before it knows sleep
Poetry is a lesser pop song
Merit is demanding meaning in Islamic rhyme
And music in Bombay sounds fine,
Like finery in the old oil refineries of winers who dine
With elongated women who play with perchance
To off the rhythmical find
And punked up ink to the blinds
Rising like a Paki stack –
Up and always up: Never a fuck up!

Fuck up, mother fucker! And I will see you in the dump truck
Collecting rubbish like the good Fucked Up Dr says
Martin Luther King day!
It says your handy men are gay and you won’t play
On the streets and the sea shores
Where candy is crushed in the bottled mouths of mums
Mummying more than your Mata crew
Too rude to lie in lines with havoc on Drew
About his salary and fat carcass sitting lost
On the vultures’ solution to his camel feast
And how to translate his humour to an Arabic queen.

So I chose two and poetry wrote the internet
They let and the house was full of regret
Lonely furniture, hopeful bedside cabinet
A place to Kindle some bookish delight
A place to feel some horror book fright
A place for me and a place for you
A place away from the actor’s [so called] Acting Human Zoo.

Switch the Stanislavsky off
Let me hear your voice with hands around your balls : COUGH!
Cough like Roger Mc Gough and all those beaten poets
Who stood by Liverpool so that John Barnes would know it.
Left, right and then a goal –
Tell my soul that the Black Man is sold.

I am out for this shit on the web
Away from the Glen and all those Merry Arthurian Men.
Marionne, Marian and Atoinette – let me never regret
While my pen is still whet:
From one more fight between me and the Jews
For who never recommended O.T. tribalism between my brother, I and the (King and //…) you.

Durga

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A normal anxiety pervades my kitty party
Where the cash flows wildy to please my sorority.
O.T. seasons ride hiding in the Super Bowl pricing
For an advert to my soul where the cost is tomorrow’s goals
In the company that analyses bliss
And forgets the sounded out price
The holy glacial meting ice
The terrors of fights in space
The loss of children in Chinese disgrace:
For Satan’s ____ hiss.

Count out the clock when the time said stop
And I could not work while the women went Twerk.
‘Tis the cause, ‘tie the cast
Men when they are acting are not last.
The Jerk (Simple IMDb) and “shithead” can experiment formally on Zee TV
< Mr and Mrs Bombay {(I dunno)} sell Sofas on ITV :: :: -à
“Come home soon!”
And the daughter left in the darkness leaving a hollow in the room
“I’ll be back before you know it!”

And the daughter laughed off emptiness so her Buddha Boy ‘shroomed
#Me
#Me
#MINE
“I am fine!” : Said the daughter
“I am watching Saif Ali Khan and thinking of you.”

The safe mother was walking about the table for more than Chai
When  she remembered the years gone by and times she felt angry rathe shy…
Such was the corroboration of the religious affair
While the daughter was opened to the public with Mousse in their hair.
Spray