The
other eighteenth
centurion was rewired to beat whip-
ping cream by trans-
ferring it to one of free flood plain car-
rier amigo acid barriers and then em-
BARK-
ing on his var-
ied
own
creep dis-
cussing raw plans in a goop text where he adds
a spam
and melon
ball twist to a clutch-
ing figurine piece depicting
an angle between those sidewind-
ers required for
hooking spouts
with ambiguous traces of lawful fake
muse bots
spread-
ing
gas unrest using automated pest practices
that
put real intel-
ligence to sleep behind the Wheel of Miss
Fortune's even
grey-
er and darker than usual
Legion of Heavy Petting Metal Maniacs.
If dirges tend to distress, no wonder,
They’re par for course nothing less, no wonder.
If naught comes in nor goes save memories
And graver gets loneliness, no wonder.
If fireflies fail to brighten gloomy nights,
Darkness adds to grief’s denseness, no wonder.
Yet, should your acts cast dull shadows, beware,
Sun is a ruthless witness, no wonder.
Caught in Self’s lawful court, I would confess,
Guilty feels this mute witness, no wonder.
_________________________________
Ghazal |14.03.2026 | darkness, dirge, distress, loneliness, memories, night
There was writing in the tiny town, where two legged rats I'd reckon were going round..Selling out a true blue man, alone
And outnumbered, same..Same old plan.'
Maybe an ex-copper lived nearby.' Anyways
A rat , As known to you and I.' Or maybe a
Few.? Quite sad stuff.' Yet now the hue and cry.' And all because he wanted his rights? he had, confronted with reason, and the judge, well he was in a plight ' judge peter
dunn, a real strange one.' And his awfully
Un-lawful actions, and his courthouse based henchmen.' Dezie claimed arrest of the 'judge?' And his crew, who were breaking many laws, must be what they often do.? Officials anger and axiety now
Knew no bounds, before Dezi got his court
Date, to Porepunkah the henchmen, chased him down, ten armed coppers, he
Took out three..One just wounded
Yet Dezi killed the other two..So what with
The rats, and dummys of the people.' Cov-idiots, thats keeping it simple ' I ask for peace, i hear a trickle.? And the killing of Dezi.' No wonder i'm busy.' Searching and
Finding, and making aware.' True
people we need you, come step up
And out of despair.!
Word of the Year 2026 Poetry Contest
Sotto Poet
ICE Agents,
poised as Trump's puppets,
take the stage,
like mad dogs,
marking their territory
without lawful cause.
What claim on me do you have—
O Specter robed in lawful guise—
Who counts my breath, who weighs my heart,
Who peers through hollow, measuring eyes?
Body, mind, and soul you name,
As if they were your lawful due;
You tally scars, you number pain,
And still demand what yet is new.
What more must I be forced to show,
Too often, in this single frame?
I bled over and over again—was it not enough?
To prove the substance of my flame?
Do I possess a soul you need,
To feed your engines, cold with greed?
Must spirit, pain down a titled deed,
Be signed away for all to see ?
I am exhausted—drained and worn
By free labor of breath and thought;
A prisoner to that endless claim,
For all I gave and never sought.
My mind—once fertile as the field,
Before the blight, before the chains—
Now lies in furrows dug by hands
Harvesting all but leaving no grain.
So hear me, void, and answer true:
By what dark right, by what decree,
Do you still ask—when all is spent—
What claim on me do you have?
Once—when the silent Agent—ran—
Through Tubes of lawful Air—
We watched—from Rooms that held our breath—
And named it—an experimental —Death—
The Body—spoke in sudden Signs—
Of Grammar not our own—
It tugged—against the Promise land--
By Leather—and by Stone—
Across the Glass—a Figure stood—
So near—he shared the Night—
A Keeper—not of Time—but Words—
For Souls that lose their Light—
The Chest—forgot its ancient Task—
The Gasps—became a plea—
And Air—once thought a common thing—
Turned stern Theology—
No Cry was heard—yet Motion screamed—
In Muscles taught to Pray—
While a Witness learned—too late—how much
The Eye must give away—
And when the Room resumed its Law—
And Death was now—Complete—
We bore the Weight—of having seen—
What the Bible—doesn't Preach--
At the center of London 2025 farmers and
Supporters came, this upon tractors the farmers did..Which is of their typology
I do not kid.' Intrinsic to their role in any land that i know, farmers drive tractors into
Town, unless you were real thick.? Its just
Sort of 'how they roll' persecution for so doing, is so plain to view
Like a rusty barn roof, don't know about you ?
nly un-just.' Which in
Itself is un-lawful..To do so is a must, and real true.' So much misscarrige of justice happened today.' Aided and abetted, plain
As the day.' As large as the konk of sadiq
khan.' If it were any longer he could park it s barn..' Say!! Maybe thats his plan, to divest some good men of goods and chattels.' So his nose could be covered instead of some country hens.' Anyway its
All a mockery.' Time to call time soon..Or the madness of woke ideaology will send good farmers to the moon.' An a penal servitude.' And no matter at all the cost.'
As they have stolen so much money.' Its only the responsible who will bear the loss.'
There is a language barrier being created
adopted and fostered by social media
controlling certain dialect from surfacing
kept down with bad manners treasonous acts
Governing bodies has signed the soul of democracy away
to address another human life form rubbished neologism
firstly a status of hate filled pride needs to be brought into account here
to alter facts and grammar suiting a wicked agenda
This has no value when examined for what's right and just
silence is no longer a tool of the innocent
when powered to speak with lawful manners
From the wool of a Lamb knitted into a soul
the Lion will roar within this arena
words are enslaved put in chains by bigots
backwards justice in the end will fail terribly
because the finger will always point out
the truth from deep within a person's heart
From all New Beginnings,
we were born to die.
And when in the fullness of our days,
Life-Force Moonshadows,
both good and bad,
speaking truth and lies,
some lawful and corrupt,
promoting equality and inequality
both moral and immoral,
preaching love and hate,
in lasting peace or war,
give birth to our chosen companions.
And as we rise up to find that better place,
in the brightness of our humanity,
we will embrace at each pivotal moment.
Then, when face to face with Father Time,
some dimly lit Moonshadows, still left behind,
will continue to linger awhile,
slowly wane into soft distinct whispers,
and with a last uttered sigh,
will forever declare,
another timeless generation.
HOW WILL WE DEFINE OUR GENERATION?
So plum different, my twin sons.
What one likes, the other shuns.
Son M- Persistant Perennial
Lively Loving
Unpredictable Untimely
Manly Masterful
Son J- Patient Predictable
Leisurely Lawful
Unbiased Understanding
Mindful Mature
Alive not living,
Past era keeps reliving...
Freedom's misgiving.
Independence sighs,
What freedom frankly denies...
Cum pure lawful guise.
Where one sorrow smiles...
In democratic cool styles,
That shield violent miles.
Eyes travels in mind,
How leaders should have been kind,
But greedily blind
Right to live on earth-
Is no Nigerians by birth,
Only Govts have worth.
Unlike the Indians,
They are humanitarians
But ours- comedians.
Indians celebrate...
When will Nigeria equate,
What growth's checks operate?
Like how courtship's will,
Wish marriage's freedom fulfill...
Relationship's thrill.
Independence day,
India and Indians to weigh...
How hell the past stray!
Congratulations!
We roll beneath the cypress shade,
With radar humming through the glade—
A silent beam, it marks your speed,
Before you even see the deed.
The dash cam blinks, an unblinking eye,
Recording truth you can’t deny.
The body cam hums a steady tune,
Every whisper caught by noon.
A license plate reader scans the air,
Numbers flash—a silent snare.
If you’re wanted, or your tag expired,
It chirps—a hunter newly wired.
Computer mounts glow in the night,
Dispatch sending left and right.
GPS maps where each soul roams,
Drawing paths back to their homes.
Thermal sight through swampy dark,
Can spot a heartbeat—leave its mark.
The mic in my collar hears your plea,
And streams it straight to the deputy.
Don’t think the backseat’s just for rest—
It’s steel and shield, a lawful nest.
Your rights are read, your hands confined,
While satellites keep you in line.
So when you see that bar of blue,
Know tech and training ride there too.
We don’t just follow—we foresee,
By lens, by code, by law, by key.
Public Corruption
During, prior and passed the handling of homeless surplus, and perhaps it requires the specifics of stating, only homeless surplus, there was no evaporation nor limitation to the law ordering the handling of the homeless installation of surplus housing money, earmarked only for the ability to acquire buildings for the homeless who are landlords in California worth 100's of millions of dollars in every city of California.
No penny may be touched by another in language or otherwise. There will be no lawful adjust of the penny in homeless surplus.
My life is crumbling down
And my walls are caving in
Its been headed down hill
Since i began a life of sin
I could've been a lawful man
And found a respectable way
I should have fought harder
At keeping temptation away
Now all my wrong choices
Are showing their ugly face
I can't escape from them
They refuse to give me space
I feel as though I'm sinking
Being swallowed by quicksand
I'm reaching out while Praying
Someone will grab my hand
A ll
F or
D istraction
i g farben, now bayer pharmacutical firm, worldwide reach seems almost charmed.? Purveyors of zyklon b the
Cause of great harms.' Still today a legal entity' in lawful
Standing for-sure.' Despite supplying genocidal gas into
The concentration camps very doors.' While Alternativ für
Deutschland..' Is targetted and called 'far right' by day and
Night.' Yet I need to just know why.? Such disparity is allowed to be? Like how can such full out falseness.' be even allowed to fly?
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