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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required "Motherland" The “Removed”, Charlestons across the keyboard, fingers have a personality and a mind of their own, don’t you agree? the stalwart mind converses with the frivolous fingers its stark increduality, considers All above All they’re incorrigible, those lithe fingers, like feathers they flutter in the stark glow of an illuminated screen in a dark void those fingers, dance cutting black and white freedom slicing pieces of life neatly like a cake icing and all, of that stolen kalleidoscope dream, stepping stones, skimming wilfully across each key those fingers go, the mouth performs the mind’s thoughts, whispers expletives, under the breath, quite regularly, "no never," is unheard by no one, but heard by the speaker "not on my watch, not me, no never" says She, hard shot, chalked and outlined, corner pocket, the black ball drops into the net the white balls drop numerously around her, still, She conveys with ice cold conviction, "no never, not on my watch, not me" no genuflecting here will remove the stain of bedlam in Sodom’s smalls and their theological Gomorrah’d degrees priests and their black habits, antithetical ...backtrack, correct that, like a pale confession other side of the lattice antithesis, blood beads touched, oily, like a reptile, like a lizard, each one, no f**k it, the thoughts bleed, leave those horrendous feral f***k*rs in ... to drown deep in their convenient fonts, those other small crushed fontanelles they touched with unclean hands unblessed, spent like pennies, golden showered, the filth undercovers unfrocked unholy held with no rite savoured to be absolute, out in the cold, for All to be seen nonchalently abandoned on the road side of it all out in the cold; the poetic dignigity of a kept and hidden dream kisses the innocent, there is zero integrity zero. observe betrayal of the gullible naive, there, trust burnt praying before an alter, on its knees hidden deadly the alleged Godly, with its unleavend bread, it’s blood wine and priestly collar, stiff, buttered up all in hand…all in hand greasy, quite regularly matins are massaged out of the silent voices of the undone tears spill like buckets of burley for sharks and well-oiled megalthons rise from the deepest depths of dark move upward and up on; out in the backyard, unicorns prance with butterflies sincere and purely innocent, the Unaware have their shining ivory swords ripped out like teeth waiting for the Tooth Fairy, knowing all too well that one is not close, not near, but in more than 6ft deep; Motherland mind body and soul never misses Her beat watching over the innocent ‘neath black robed circling crows sly foxes and their islands all connected, like a map, streets marked no sanctuary as if in a church lost, nowehere to be found; She watches on She watches ever on Not on Her watch, believe it, Trouble with a capital “T” burnt catechisms in the Motherland warnings to the younger eyes not opened minds to be opened the message passed on Not on Her watch, believe it, Trouble with a capital "T" immersive: Death Penalty. Candide Diderot. ‘24
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