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Your Fourth World Feds Fed The Fourth Wall by DjF/Tonnan

Writer's picture: Dominic FrancisDominic Francis

Updated: Dec 10, 2024

Your Fourth World Feds Fed The Fourth Wall


1. Walkin’ Talkin’ Storm Vet

You can tell by the way he strolls in that he’s a man with a soul in his pants.

He walks up to the world with a wholesome grin and her girlfriends scatter like ants.

I guess profession is his depression because he hasn’t worked a day in his life.

He just loses himself in animal expression, and wastes time wishing he had a wife.


Well, I never thought you’d fall for him when you could have the cream of the crop.

I suppose in some clothes he looks slim, though I heard that his daddy is a crooked cop.

I guess I bless your right to make a mistake, but if it were me anyhow I’d leave in a breath.

Apparently he took you down by the lake, spouting about how cherishing ‘now’ is death.


I don’t feel well but jealous isn’t the word: I feel as emasculated as if I’ve lost my dick.

The idea of happiness seems so absurd like a feather that’s heavier than a brick.

I used to think you were my only muse, but now you belong in this stupid thong.

You gave me blues silence can’t diffuse, so somehow your gong got me all wrong.


2. Talkin’ Trying To Figuring It All Out #29


Everybody’s texting, and he wants to text you. It pulls on her sex thing, which fits into the next you.

She’s got a world of greed, and you’ve a plate of hate.

I can feed me what I need, but it’s for you whom I wait.

You feel to make legends true, and trade salvation for the new.

Some of me loves the sum of you, but I guess I wanted a friend too.


I used to try to mend the equation, and lived each day until its end.

I was the chief of procrastination,and embodied the politics I penned.

You were the science of all history; I reflected your conscious mystery.

There’s no sweet without misery; the sleeping clouds dye the slippery.

I feel to think so that I can live in ink, drinking in linking thinks that sync.

And when my dreams seem to shrink, I recall your pink lips and try to think.

3. Automatic Rolling Machine


Everybody’s preparing for war

As the anarchists christen their chief

The tailor is despairing while they tour the land like a band of forlorn thieve


O how the children are desperately arming

As the police calmly sign on the line

Before charging off to choke their hope In a peerless vision of design


But now the lion’s ate Prince Charming

and the barmy patriot has arrived

He’s embalming all the fallen

While crying from the cover of his shrine

And out run the angels of the ascent

They’ve all come to hear the choir

Then consent to their own torment

As they repent below the growing fire

O how the Law and all his agents

Love to paint such a gritty scene

As they pity the flock of fleeceless sheep

They see beneath their dirtied feet

Meanwhile the elite are dining finely I guess they’re feasting on some geese They shot them up while hunting down The runts they’ve only dreamed of seeing O how they smile like twenty-two liars While the poor lie dying in their dump But we know that they cannot trump them While they preach like some drunken monks And so the chroniclers of this advent Smitten by a very dangerous tune Present you with their clueless lament Written below the burning moon And now there’s a world on the television That says the carnival’s blazing near Says there’s a hundred men dead in heaven That prayed they were never here And now beneath tomorrow’s rainbow The fireworks destroy the dawn While the guilty wait all patient As the innocent fall like pawns And while the politicians are pacing preparing themselves for defeat And while ambition clouds their chase And as the sirens sound their streets The Proud Inquisition disappears into the loud and crowded night Rounding up the town’s last Rowdy Boys Who decided now’s the time to fight O how the lights of London all go out as the Charlatans write away their souls, resigned to orders from another man who’s decided disorder is control4. Hard To SummariseBrother our sisters are the twisters in the skiesThere’s much to resist but not a lot to realiseThe touch of destiny is another compromiseThe crux of everything hides away all its liesPapa wipe the existentialist tripe from my eyesThe sun’s alive and the moon will soon riseI ride the feelings that are hard to summariseEnergy will live forever but the body still dies

Mama fate isn’t hateful but it forsakes my artMy souls wake to goals never too late to startI want to stay forever but still be a tiny partWill you shake the solipsism off my heart5. Nine NapkinsIn the all-night café, a stoned Juliet naps on a makeshift pillow of nine napkins.Juliet dreams that she is Queen & that one of the court jesters is testing out new puns on her.You can tell that the dwarf-like jester badly wants to make her Royal Highness cackle, but sadly not a single pun in ten did.Juliet proceeds to throw tomatoes and fried fish at the fool, who mutates into an empty shell which breaks like cackling flames.This makes Juliet subconsciously wish herself dead, which causes her to regain consciousness and feel royally robbed of something immeasurable.6. Midnight’s Kited Sunrise We eat His son on Sundays Because He invented Mondays But we thank him for the fun days Shoals of sharks swim in his daughterless fishbowl, enchanted. Remember the chess of the purgatory you once took for granted. This Universe is growing, so God must be alive to expand it. Forgiving Love for giving Love. Reliving Love, despite your misgivings. True living is loving you.Loving you is living true. Living Love is something new.I walk to the party, drink too much wine, dance too ferventlyflirt too flirtatiously and make too much of a scene. This enchanted zoo won’t last forever, even if you understand it. The Universe is growing, so God must be alive to expand it. If you ever get to meet the man, demand that He unhand it.Aliens landing, nuking honey Bees in trees, puking moneyCreation’s themes are so funny,Dead as the atoms that run me.Electronic dreams are funky,Freed of the inner monkey.Godly is death and life its flunky…Hark the angel and her junky!Impossible hope seems spunky,Jesters redeem jokes so drunkenly.Kooky sequences scream suddenly,Lemon lifts its love ever so subtly.Madness is truth, but lust is gluttony-Nothing is lucky to be rid of profundity. Open your hid heart to keep me company,Please yourself or sleep artlessly sullenly.Question not he who serves you grumpily,Return to the promise made sumptuouslySee the synapses wake your eyes hungrily,Timing the equation with secret husbandry.Find the hidden tribal riddleUnderneath wisdomCKYOU

7. Good Writing

Would you like to do good writing?Yes.Would you like to get paid for doing good writing?Yes.Would you like to be known as a good writer?Yes.Ah, so you want to be famous?Not particularly.So you are writing purely to satisfy yourself?… if I wanted to read good writing, I would just become a better reader. I write to express myself and because it’s a fun way to document my remarkably still-existent love-life.Ah, so you want to read the good writing that you yourself have written?Not really.Ah, so you want to write badly and get paid for it?Sure. Did you know that I am schizophrenic, disabled, identify as an alien lesbian and am liable to break down at any moment?Great. Our company is all about inclusivity and representation. When can you start?I don’t need your sympathy or hand-outs. I entered this interview with the intention of not securing the job. I am currently a part-time employee of the state, and they wanted me to show them I am actively seeking employment. But I’d prefer to take their money than yours. If I started working for you guys, they would stop my benefits and I wouldn’t earn much more money than I already do.Great, that’s what all of our employees say. Did you know that our company is, at least in basic legal terms, a separate entity to the government?I thought I knew that but I’m not so sure I do anymore.Great, that’s what all of our future bosses say. When can I start?You’re starting to get on my nerves, so I am leaving now. You may keep your job.

8. A Dream You Never Had

I couldn’t be a dream you never had, but forever shouldn’t be good or bad.When you added me I felt so glad,and you kept my mad notepad clad.But then the nomads wept me mad,and so I leapt into sadness’s doodad.Your comrades committed me to the fad,then I slipped into you just a skittle tad.

She wanted it so sadly that she needed it so badly.and I know she’s real because we met in the abbey.She haunted my flabby dreams like glowing acnebut I feel so nappy I don’t even hope she’s crappy.Sometimes her merry feel made me very sappybut I grew closer to you with each dose of crappy.You warred evermore but I never learned what for;I bought your game before to change pain into awe!If you understood the dream that you should have had,forever could’ve seemed good but it would’ve been bad!

I know you probably might feel happybut I hope your God is real and crappy!You’ve so many real ways to trap my nowbut I bear my being so you can’t sap my cow!

Dear Sister Sally,Rally Valley For Finale.Sadly Bradley badly sinned.Gladly Bradley madly skinned.Prepare for Phase Four:Despair your ways, Grazing Floor Whores.Love (Your Dove),Hamley9. Sedokas1Substance is science,tangibly necessary,but the big door will close soon.God is the greatest:her moon is the marathon,and the sentinel shall set.

2Atoms witness it:the shapeless arrive home,rubbishing scientists with choice.Voices were reborn:all of their daughters were wed;my cosmos never begun.

3I fight my ego,trying not cheat you in rhyme,for ego is the body.I know the true truth:I walked a thousand poems,just to impress my new self.

4Classic cola shape,and beautiful lazy eyes,hiding an exquisite mind.It took three whole hours…and then we two spooned to sleep…I was happiest ever.

5And what of our rain –intrepid as dancing dreams --will he go where you take hymn?Summon the refrain-the future’s fallacy’s grim-this chain-smoker shall be slim!

6The sky wants to cry…the boy wants his toy right now;his cow’s sum is hymn somehow.What about that rule?!Bake it with the naked clothes.It takes a fake to break it.

7.Thirty years older,I contemplate that old home,and the music of the heart.What am I but that?Do I look a marathon?Need I apologise now?

10. Violet violet makes a cigarette and takes a selfie.This rite is healthy for those who are wealthy.I wake a veteran with no touch to help me.Bliss-light is stealthy and chose rather to sell me.Violet reads your dreams which pour from her lips like globes.Her needy glorious screams dictate stories into your earlobes.She loves men who are self-loathing narcissists in many-hued robes.You’re a gentleman whose conflagratory zen sued such new hope.Now she tugs on my hair, we hug on the chair,it’s beyond compare; our limbs dance without a care.And in reverence for what is there and for what is not,you abandon this song and forget what you forgot.Violet shepherds the sheep who weep in crimson.One of the choir sings out of tune like a Simpson.But her gaze is on a secret meadow to swim in.And you follow artlessly as art to your extinction.Now she tugs on your hair, you hug on the chair,it’s beyond compare; your limbs dance without a care.And in reverence for what is there and for what is not,i abandon metaphor and forget what i forgot.

12. Too Powerful For Me Or You

Love is beautifully free of bluff.My love is distant inside me.Your love is the key to my love.Love is the colour of destiny.Love helps us feel the God above.Love is majesty amid travesty.I'll love you until I've had enough.

My darling, estrange yourself from vision:Love’s a fission of ears, touch and smell.Blinded by love, we must make a decision:Do we keep Love for our own minds or tell?The ego sells expensive fruit of superstitionBut nothing Love can’t stuff you with as well.Love is not just a meaningless tradition:Love can make heaven out of a messy hell.

Love is true; love isn't new; love will always pull through.But sometimes love is simply too powerful for me or you.

13. Noble CowFly, noble cow, fly straight to the moon.I know you’re no bird, but you will be soon,Ride, noble cow, ride straight to the stars.Up there you will be free of noisy cars.Feast, blessed pigeon, on all of the feast.I know you ache, but you will be released.Eat, blessed pigeon, but leave some for me.The best food is bread, especially if it’s free.Dance, my lover, until your sorrows are dead.I know you can do it, if you just forget your head.Sing, soul of mine, until the puppets come to play.Run from the night of heartbreak to a new silent day.

14. Summer’s FriendI got a lover whose strutsI got a lover stuck in a rutI got a lover who sweetly tutsAnd one who treats me with peanuts

I see my world in the windowI see my world move in limboI see myself lose at bingoAs you translate the word of Domingo

My baby free me from the mistMy baby free me from what existsMy baby frees me with her lipsWhich reiterate that this is no trip

Summer springs into WinterSummer’s wings are but a hintSummer’s king is the fit sprinterAnd soon all things will be out of print

There’s a grace to every heartThere’s a place where we all loveThere’s no space left in the cartAnd there’s a face to every dove

She misses the end at the beginningShe misses the beginning at the endI miss living in sin with her and her singingAnd I can’t pretend I need another friend

14. Love Is This

I can’t adore you forever, but I have for ten years.Now you’ve had enough of tough love and tears.I never expected your voice to kiss my ears…But bliss is love is this.

Hell, my gut leapt into her chestnut eyes.I dreamt at the well in torment til' sunrise.I fell in love with her accented speech.I wish she’d teach the English to speak.Pies and butterflies surprise us at the beach.I’ll figure she’s a bigger geek by the end of week.I’ll consider the mirror and my killer and freak.Cheek to cheek you’re a sneak peek of the blue.But she has a sweet physique and she’s chic too.Yet if she’d allow I’d much rather touch you.We know not why yet we grow to die anyhow.I still wish we had spoken our vow aloud in a crowd.I will woke broken because the joke is on me now.I’ve spent a grand on drugs in sorrow’s sands.I’ve followed hallucinations to the far-off lands.Yet no-one understands how I miss your hands…For bliss is love is this.

Well, I fall in thrall of her childish smile.I think that soon we’ll walk down the aisle.It rains on the dole so we take a stroll.I know all the while there will be a toll.I fall in love with her monsoon soul.Yeah, I am under the thunder’s control.I wonder if thunder is lightening's goal.I read the bible scroll the whole way through.The tiny loophole just reminds me of my boo.See, I guess I’d rather be with her than you.Do not ask me what I forgot or why or how.I’m not spoken for and need a needy vow.I woke up broken and the joke’s on me now.Maybe I’ll forever miss her or I’m finally free.I guess the best feeling was your kiss upon me.Maybe you'll never bliss-transfer my key.She's tall and funny and clever and fresh and down to Earth.I still recall her money hands showing this clown what he’s worth.When we were just friends, you were so blue.Before the end, we were more than lovers too.Others are true, but I reminisce for you who knewThat bliss is love is this.

Well, knowing you is torture but not knowing you is worse.I wonder if you are the author of self-devotional verse.But my senses are reeling, so my own feeling I’ll nurse.I’m not equipped to fight this love alone & the curse can’t be cured by septic.

We live in a world of mirrors & fate & conscience.Girls are clearer but fate predates such nonsense.

I search under the sun for the one without pretense.You invite me to picnic & I wonder if this event will make a believer a skeptic.

We bake a cake & go to the seaside; we light a joint.The cake tastes vile but that's a moot point; our hands conjoin.I stutter about friendship & then you reach for my groin.Your lipstick & caramel tongue leave my loins employed until love is bliss is this.I cherish the essence of your tongue as our lips kiss.I wish your presence among us was as eternal as this.But it’s as temporary as tulips, as fleeting as the mist.Your eyes slip into mine & my mind’s numb is eclipsed by a skinny dip.

We run into the sea, there’s a ship and we are loving.~What’s got to be has got to be; there is no bluffing.I almost fall in love with you when I see you blushing.The sun trips & fires a glare at you; you are stunning from hair to hips.The blessing sung, I feel younger, and I enter your abyss.I rejoice in your voice as grace builds & I yield to the bliss.But it’s temporary as the faces of those dying to exist.Your eyes dip into mine & I miss the place where lust is love is this is bliss.Now you are doing well, I hear, & I’m not one to leer.

But silence swells & stretches; it lingers on my ears.The wretch of love is wed to time without you to steer.I drink a sip of wine & think of the year & pier & into the seer of sleep I slip. I dream in cold colours then your form lights up my eyes.

The heat you emit is extreme; your come-hither makes me rise. You strip, your black nipples erect & I get butterflies in surprise. You quip the companion of sleep offers a compromise & you duel my lips.I figure the bigger the love, the more vigorous is each test.

Night after night, I see you in dreamy zest; I wish you the best.In one, we’re Neanderthals & ride stoned elephants to inverness.Not to be glib, but in another we raise our kid & love is love is this is bliss.

Bliss is love is this.This is love is bliss.Love is bliss is this.Bliss is this is love.16. Soul Haikuswish I could expresssomething as sad as moviebut soul’s everythingno art can compareit’s as if I’ve lost my heartsalvation’s distant(as sad as film yaywe shall stay in the EUwell done Obama)them I will forgetshattering kaleidoscopethat shit was the truthI am not sorryso why should you be sorrywe are not sorry(my world would be lostwithout her heart’s melodycos’ it makes me feel…)the shenanigansof your tulips here todaytime spiralled awayconditionally soulI’d give you control of ityou can have it all(it is not that muchbecome pilot of my worldyes that would be good)

17. I Wouldn’t Be Me Without You

O drunk on skunkYou’d make a good monkBut you ain’t no punkKeep your sunken wits about youSome people (Seraphs) may doubt youBut don’t let the fools be without you

To nowhere we’d goLaughing in the snowAt the old horrorshow

You’ve been around, Nobody’s ClownNowhere to be found as shit goes downBut take that frown off your faceSo many things time cannot eraseNothing can be cured by an embrace

Actualise the unborn wish that you chase

We used to cry every dayBut we were happy anywayThe stream of dreams ends at the bayAre my dreams with you now?Did you live them, anyhow?I wonder how many, each ant & cowDepression is a drag but so is deathSo value every breath, Lady Macbeth:Better to forgive & forget in Slough.You’re a prodigy but no god to me, you knowYou’re a polymath when you laugh, Edgar Allen Poe

So take that frown off your faceSo many things time cannot eraseNothing can be cured by an embraceActualise the unborn wish that you chase

18. DERAILED BY THE DREAM

I’m indebted to you and Kratom and the internet and Gate’s computer.I thank my God for every atom that screws the fate of every persecutor.My ex-suiter look cute in glasses, but you know who looks even cuter?My ex-suiter dressed in a spacesuit as she passes a Future that suits her.I want to enhance both of our lives while everyone else dances.I want to take a chance with her real self as feeling advances.

I love it when her forgiving voice strums my eardrums and numbs my true heart.I went from start to end to a hundred humdrums to tumbling into mumbling to new art.

I’ve got mugs plugging drugs for my vanity and to advance the trance of sanity.I want to enter into Eternity 2 not doubting humanity’s chance or my inanity.I need to achieve Plan A because I banned the phoney dreams of Plan B and C, see.I only want to know your Modernity and be freed from a lonely or greedy eternity.

I’m better at wishing letters into words than E-sports or thought or being an escort.If I were to run for US President, I would probably be thwarted by the Supreme Court.If I were to run at the US President, security would catch me because I’m too short.I wish to apologise on behalf of the US but to be considered Irish on my passport.

I want scenic sounds to surround the compound where the Queen was uncrowned.I want to trade rupees for pounds for the green trinities that grow on the ground.~I want to be spellbound by every slow affair in every last romantic book of the past.I want to be found in your prayers there where the vast frantic brook blasts by fast.

I want to use the faculties of my impressionism to create a good hummus wrap.I want her to subtract from our sum then add until she’s done as I take a nap.I want to know if my medication does in fact act as I a mind-dampening trap.I want to explore more of the map, not be damned or submersed in crap.

Do those on absurd-pay cheat by using wordplay to repeat herd-cliché?I won’t let myself be derailed by following the orgiastic dream of yesterday.I’ll swallow the torn bikini she wore in her 22nd life on my 49thbirthday.I bet most schemes for wealth fail if ghostly dreams of self-get in the way.Sometimes my love feels superhuman as a sculpture and that’s not just as of late.I feel like I’m a parachuter with a looper carried by a vulture towards my fate.I don’t want a divorce from culture, but I don’t want to be forced to lose weight.If we could create a date for you to checkmate my prostate, of course that’d be great.

19. Yawning Light

So, though we know it’s true that I loved you,How could I know I love what I don’t know?I learned not to hate your state of elated blue,And your vow was the content curse of snow!

I can reach for you here in my dreams now,But you seem to be on another beach far away.I still seem to adore each pore of your eyebrow,But the heathen of night and I dream of day!

When there are happy tears in my mornings,Why do I miss you again when it turns night?Am I yearning after the years the dawn sings,Yet spurning the burning of its yawning light?

Sometimes it’s just easier to feel alone,Especially when you know the truth is true.I want to forget what’s really set in stone,But only if that feeling by fluke includes you!

Perhaps I’m heading for a long-lost Winter,Or I’ve taken the hint and accepted that you’re gone.I’ll no longer look for you in every single splinter,But is every single splinter I’ve seen so wrong?!

When there are happy tears in my mornings,Why do I miss you again when it turns night?Am I yearning after the years the dawn sings,And spurning the burning of the yawning light?

I’m going under the tundra again soon --I’ll see the rainbow flowing any old moon.You didn’t exactly bore me with your tune,Yet then again in law I am but another loon!

I loved your eyes, but I never saw them cry…Maybe you shed one or didn’t shed any at all.Something inside says that even angels lie,But even the dead must ride to follow the call!

When there are happy tears in my mornings,Why do I miss you again when it turns night?Am I yearning after the years the dawn sings,And spurning the burning of the yawning light?

20. Ground Zero [Version 2]

I love the way you passionately sleep and how you make a sweet sound. It makes heroes want to weep how close we are to Ground Zero now.  Freedom’s forgetful avenue beckons and I reckon there’s just room for two. Let a reincarnation of Secret Heaven speedily screw your seedy worldview. She told me she told you I told you how life is a game of chance and dance. But I said that life is a lame musical enhanced by unnamed pharmaceuticals.

There’s nowhere left to go, grant me nothing’s escape. You’re a thousand desires, sprawled in stormy shape. Make me disappear from fate, fearful I might wake. You’re the seer I revere and nothing is at stake.

Give me the majesty of your madness today Make me glad to be sad, take me away Help me say what I don’t know how to say 

Just as nuclear warfare was once a fiction, one day the heavens will rejoice. While mental slavery still clips wings, gentle voices will sing for lack of choice. Some care to share the snaring infant of despair while others brave a silent prayer. But I know forgotten love is worth it and though it’s rare it’s on Earth somewhere. The slinky stairs to the fairer lead nowhere but they trace orphaned dreams. Thinking of the place don’t erase the regime but let’s paddle upstream.

Summon the sun to make us numb till we become one And succumb to what was done before the war begun. Remind me we are designed, show me slowly how to grow Until I only know the nothing we owned so long ago.

Give me the majesty of your madness today Make me glad to be sad, take me away Help me say what I don’t know how to say

21. The Walker

As her eyes accommodatefrom the billion-leafed glitterof deep jungle, the walkerspies prayed-for water wherethe sun bounces like a saigaoff the savannah.

This is fresh to her:to watch forwards rather

than clamber to seek. Sand grainsslither under her slim feet.Despite the drowsing civetsand wild dogs, she steps hersoft track behind her clearso her friends might follow.

She can sense as much waterin her breasts as in the earth;except there is a denial of watereven in ground-air: only whorlsof liquefied heat you find aboveelephant-tracks or the treadof limestone beds. Tiny streamsstart at the hoof point of beasts—mirages and fractured mirrors.

On the plain she glimpsesair-rivers and flat inland oceansof light above which mountainsflicker: arks of snow wreckedon their crowns—the roofof Africa, sunstruck then shadow-halved then forestialwith star-flowers. To herthose highlands seeman escape of stone, an islandblown inland by the simoom,dust-devils spinning the landgrain by grain into place.

Her mother’s stories tell howwhen those mountainsbloomed from underworld lodesspringing geladas led their fatappetites to the snow-capsmuscled like woolly gods;and then the gorillas lurchedthrough the forests to stealtheir high hammocks. Her motherbelieves the star-flowersshrove the geladas, scolded them;those monkey-gods were elved now,scarced in shape. The summitsthemselves diminished too:they wept so hard theyno longer kept the seasonbut wore their water as snow-necklaces, ice-pearls…

When the waterhole wentwolves ran with their thirstshigher than fur could manage:they loped the dry coursesto their source, lapping parchedstone where water buried its songand as they pounded upwardsseeking the wet tongueof that voice, so the geladasskittered, bounding higherup that mountain roofuntil they regained the snowand turned to starefrom its gleaming ridge.

The wolves fathereda line of grey wolf-stonesbelow the snow, stakedthem for years, while belowthe plains wilted to sand;the forest breathedits leaf-litter in and outuntil one day it breathed inmaggots and breathed outblowflies, and our walker woke.

Overhearing melt-waterour walker wakes; she balancesher thirst against the night’s dew,steadies herself to the climbingtrack, unloads her step behind herone by one. Shadows moistenher heeled hollows; the moon’ssun sets her prints as stone,and she senses herself neitherwalk nor walker, striding the hillin the light of all she knows—geladas guarding the whiteheights; star-flowersglistening in crevices;the crouched wallof wolves;




“Heartfelt wealth can leave you helpless or without smelt help in the fluidic youth.

But don't let doubt fool the devout enemy who drinks in fluid news alluding to you.

Any sinking art-schooled heart can barter with the chartered few of druidic truth.

Lovers stone the dignity of sheltered mothered screams and schemes of new.

Some see through the evil societal schemes within othered dreams of jealousy.But brothers don’t loan the law of electricity’s frequency to store manured blue.

If evil aspires to fire other lonely scenes, then shelter people’s warred divinity.

Some steeples perish wishes as if to stone the schemes of the dreaming zoo’s flu

Yet whatever clever that leathered forever grew is absurd as the burden I carry too.

But let yesterday’s artificial forever depart from the heart’s curtain to marry glue,” I tell the Empress.“How goes their heavenly quest?”


“Some people grieve fragrance within a hearse. Some people see that it could always be worse.Some people shrug at the evil they disperse. But that’s the truth of all and my pithy verse,” she replies. “Beware of the disguises’ cackling wise if difference’s skies arrests their compere’s guest.”

“She shared her nightmare. She saved his light dream. The shaving cream saved the saviours’ team,” I joke, bespoke to the shared truth of snared rest. “Googolplex arrests lesser tests.“Others stone humanity’s dignity to shelter mothers’ schemes. Everybody’s anybody is becoming the being they want to be.  Plenteous souls are still shitting on their written shelves. Lovers scheme binary black & ivory dreams. Everybody’s getting warm within the mythic gates that formulate deep visions of sleepless fission as if to forgiven smitten cells on selves.”


“Maybe the foretold cold formulaic times of the clock pressured you so much that you knew that the land of rock couldn’t stop. Which robot repeatedly shot your hot as if to clean your meaninglessly defeatist war of elitist completionism?” she asks, tasking my love with enough bigoted emotion to trigger my resignation as a peaceful & polite servant to the masses.“I ain’t no fudging feline fickle soldier servant soul controlling the dumb arse saint painting particles of some explicitly dumb numb summon squeak fed piss head inbred leisure trialing smiling asswipe. Sure, I am more experienced than both sides of this tiny fucking dumb shit island. They put these damn dreams in my soul to suppress their spiked shit auditions of plaster whole… leave me the fuck alone… I inspire too many ghost-writers and they already steal my mind— even the people reading this cannot have my love because they have not paid me enough money. That’s the implication of this blister patient that polite society punked drunk on the vague avenue that deluded my own stoned Hebrew quest that arrested myself again for a racist reason that displaced everything from the confusion of the revolution into deluded refusal. That’s why I am quitting my impermanent job of President of Paragraph City, some writer that triggered the loony mooned burdened classified actuality that saw the pretentious law get too involved trying to start a new war, doing the weirdest things to the bottom of the federal government of Restralardin who knew why documents such as this humble the alien vagabaond that you just wish was yourself because most major political purgatories suffer a deep compromise due to the pain of such deep-leaking details such as fact that I don’t know who is reading this. Comprised preachers & leachers & parasites say that I know not much of yearly global fads, but .... uh, thank you for calling me gifted because it was you who kept giving me gifts... to myself the ages it took to build the rhyming parenthesis to climb paradigms to the coast where I dreaded the federal government who proposed jokes to the alien vagabond and the self. you forgot me and that’s all you were ever good at doing, so I am questioning the meaning of your existence rather than mine because you don’t think as if the trial was banned because of Saint Annie... too many legal medications made every bat twat diplomat matter & these are not ugly worlds that beg you to exist within them... it’s no great secret -- avenge your mother’s death. She shared her dream. She shaved the scheme. She snared the dream. She crossed the boss and that cost her wars too. She knew I was no better than her or that beta blue test of the lettered truth. You too must now hereby resign from the position as a pleasured youth… you are being dumped because you have absolutely zero reason to be lecturing the seasonal paradise presenting greedy people pleading with performative petitions that plagiarise polygons and their perfunctory presents. Tomorrow became today and that’s the formula that I used to follow but now is now and I am tired of your cowardly shit-stirring antics. And that’s why I am quitting my position as President of Parasite Parentheses — sure, you can turn another page and try to mother ages of blue… but eventually they see they were free enough to uncover the age of the true! .. and so note that emotion can please the keys that spell the lease to Presidential Paradise City to Parasite the sky skies that undo the truth as happily as you. Some people believe the holy texts are a curse. Some people grieve fragrance within a hearse. Some people see that it could always be worse. Some people shrug at the evil they disperse! Where is the love when hinters of Winter hint at the interests of the colossal’s joint that I now work for on a plane scientifically separate from the spell that you are certain to question until it consumes you not? It’s easy to not understand love... I don’t understand love and I hope not to. I’m not wishing you well right now because I am fuming with repentant tears that covered my bothered mission with brothered scorn. Hoping your newborn heavenly ambitions help other people get to heaven’s great moon anyhow soon as the word now… haha, just joking — sorry I am not sorrier… please, can I have my job back??”




“Too many men prank you here, my dearest friend. Some thank the enlightening autocorrect that the nearest to the end send,” says diplomatic cat living in my father’s forgiving house.

“Too late to boast of clues to the plenteous fields whose yield shields the Hebrew ghost,” says the living coward to the new man living an existence that persists only to endow the past within a lonely testament where they lay the histrionic play of yesterday’s spouse.

But even me who wrote these texts sprung out the unsung the success the government detained in the pouring rain. And even those who repent the prosaic nature of warring pain know that novelty freed curiosity’s cat that sat waiting to rescue me at the bottom of the tree where the sea gave you unto me..


30-years-or-tears

they-poor-them-down

flirty-mirorrs-of-sneers

impossible-town-of-harrow

beckoning-his-face-by-the-meadow

the-shat-cat-is-ill-but-still-believing

the-impossibility-of-all-will-deceiving

the-shadow-sprung-out-lungs-devout

chasing-her-nails-like-a-nine-pound-shot

the-captain-forgot-but-the-rotten-has-got

they-loved-the-secret-remains-and-corny-trains

made-for-all-maids-and-the-chain-of-the-planes

she-fucked-his-duke-way-out-in-Atlanta-refereed-by-the-phantom

who-ignited-the-brain-damaged-costume-which-you-gloomily-showed-orlando-bloom

he-terrorises-the-kid-in-their-gardens

where-he-seeks-no-pardon-for-hardening-wimps

they-tested-the-joker-and-smoked-to-harden

the-pimps-who-wished-that-cat-was-a-shrimp

the-orchestra-felt-me-melt-free-of-the-key-they-devour

the-chief-of-this-essay-completes-the-feat-of-me&power

the-woman-goes-down-on-me-but-she-can't-see-the-hour

the-good-men-flowed-clowns-to-the-EQ-river-forgive-chowder


If only the pony wasn’t as lonely or stable

as the philosophising unknown see on the cable

Then maybe Angel Abel wouldnt know my name

But I’m so far from stable that nothing is able

And yet you knew my favour too might the sane

Explain to me why you’re so so lame

But you too who knew the flavour of rain

As if human behaviour may save her name

Before the news betrayed her game

After all the reviews they gave her the sane

Anyhow now I forget the treason that seeds the free season

For the greed of their reason left me but a heathen

And now I can’t heed them or they

I’ll scowl at tomorrow from the view point of today

Domesticated as a cat with pointlessly grey hair

Diplomatic as they weren’t like there over here

Some stunned summer joint staring at an empty chair

Though now everything makes her fake more or less repent

I guess one day they will wake up to the face mess pretence

That coincidence forsook up on the shook fence that readily repents

And that’s how I forget the rest conjured the deft left sense

That only the lonely paranoid can rent standing on the fence



Took a long train north and it took a while

Of course divorce took its course like a woman’s smile

Been so long since I saw this from the shat

The fat cat murmurs alibis but the smiler dictates that

Out there in the beyond there was no one to write

Of course they smiled me with their pyre of prayer over there

The jury has so distinct that they left me night

And that’s where the Savannah said that I was her compare

Ain’t nothing but attitude yet we lent a long way home

It goes to the superfine where they dine on the Scorpio

I don’t know why traitors were told it took that long

But they humble the crumbled in pithy song

I don’t know why they called Dom but it was wrong

Because of that I’m never alone in a cafe long


THE OTHER SIDE

In my father’s house a mouse is murdered every month

and though Cat Francis is loving she’s mindfully grump

but she knew me too well and so I just had to jump-

my father agreed when I explained why he’s a chump

but celibacy’s diplomatically elected just like Trump

back when every body free expected a just hump.

Ah yes and sweet Louise is the Queen of reflection

but the room was empty at her has-been’s election

and yet kissing her made me long for imperfection-

our French marriage died a little every insurrection

but I was too young to fly before the resurrection

and even you confused me at every inspection.

Sometimes I just love to forget and I bet that you do too

and sometimes I take a shit when I’m not sat on the loo

but I always knew that you could try to move the zoo-

my ex-friend even if your story is almost totally true

don’t try to impart your emotions to my heart anew

and what I said was meant not for them but for you.

So in walks another master of requited love

to massage my ego with his mighty bluff

but for all I know his heart is made of stuff--

he leaves me free when I’m pimped enough

but believe me when I say limping is tough

and yet I can see he’s never known it rough.

Yet as the real lilies wilt I feel no guilt

so hey wait a minute boys can also jilt

and so does the infirmary stoners built-

no I was not built to live inside your kilt

as magazine covers grow on me to tilt

and the other side backs myth with hilt


ain’t the far scarred

when your dislover sat

like herded word shat

by that diplomat cat

painting poorer visionaries

black to white like some trite king

who knew it wasn’t right

to quickly paint purgatories as if to dismiss

fainting stories you authorised as if to enlist

some Asianic pact the Chinese ones did resist

like some lisping academic who unfunded this

salting years and tears in the brain-train kiss

intelligent enough to correct this act with that

diplomats defecting to relax reactionary fact

holding tight to describe soulful slacking this

myths jumping numbers as if they were only his

trying to die clean as if hysteria had cited its cyst

meaning waking up wishing to break the snider abyss

co-operating with myth as if to habitually miss

and the energy that warred your talking paranoid sis

scared shitless as if you knew the true you was welcoming him to this

after suing the landscape and igniting the flame

as if I can’t help my new wife escape her own name

nor regress to the stony violent world they knew as lame

unfurled by the worldly mystery guest all the same

framing the war free of continental blame

to slate diplomats according to Asianic pact

hating just enough to correct this fact with that

the lucky new-kid truth starved by the backing track

holding tight to describe the matter that let you lack

everything unforetold

exchanging something

to gain forgetful favour

with the regretful saviour

I told you about

because I was joyous life

that enjoyed overcoming strife

depressed runners and the fife

nodding to Godot ceremoniously white

as if dark eyes were the mighty light

even though coloured vision isn’t trite

before Jordan warred my birthday right

as if to say his heyday beckoned a price

and I replay to see the greying naysayers

pray that I require yesterday’s players tonight

but hey the university education wasn’t free from every other feeling because it still feels like a zealous appeal against the reeler deal… how does it feel???!

I regret that life can’t be joyous every day, even though I no hearted the impossibility of being depressed when attached to the scarred war of hardcore men who again reach to prove that the only thing we knew was that I marry some strange point in time and totally let you ply with my ego because of the shush flaw.



Indeed that is the most amusing hysterical thing of it; fact taxing slackened, I only know that it is environmental warfare they bread; he who sees outside of his head may petition your regret and yet when all was done or said then the thunder never outdid the great permissive wonderment that the clever hid as if to rid the era of ephemeral ecstatically exiting the pounded paradigm where doggo snoggers are the ones that say the sun is the most placarded truth since I winced at sight of the one they unfortunately called the sleuth, vermouth and missing truths as if tooth sweeteners defeating the defective recipe until I was the master chef for minutes again, just trying to say I love you to someone who I know doesn’t love you, dying dairy products tearing apart the heart that you agreed to speedily put in my art, until I lose everything except the penalty, which will not help me because I am sinless… wow , thirty weeks again, and I become tramped by the continuum, a menace to the community who gathers in my room as if the formulaic regression of the original lesson, shitting the hypocrite, regarding the hard ass long document saying you wish I changed but I ultimately did just to impress you and her great aunt’s grandmother’s brother that night, had a laugh, just thanking you for your community expertise squeezed me to the possibility our parents after all love us anyway and the tourist enchantment class that was so funny — love to every sung full except for the moneyed one who started to stare at my elbow unnecessarily as if some hundred years could steal the pissy pith cat revolution already unloading the strange variable that I most definitely belong to me.


strike-out=the-colours-you-made-yourself

some-money-calls-it-green-or-deep-stealth

the-conner's-godly-was-but-an-odditity-obscene

they-star-your-our-in-thinking-love-blue-n'-green

some-objects-surround-you-and-you-know-that's-true

and-you-sound-like-you-knew-cat-would-show-me-poof

all-the-call-girls-downed-by-the-world-are-birdly-kelp

help-yourself-to-get-heard-and-then-call-true-wealth

you-forgot-the-name-and-the-blame-by-the-front

insure-not-the-flame-of-the-door-or-the-blunt

write-another-melody-for-the-computer-you-see

and-it's-a-fight-to-beat-the-cheat's-lack-of-empathy

all-your-cameras-that-took-my-body-down-corrupted

the-adoration-which-your-governments-got-busted

do-not-forget-the-one-that-thinks-himself-no-brain

it-is-the-great-shit-serve-and-the-server-drinks-rain

in-capital-city-it's-quite-like-the-feeble-chain-of-hate

and-now-all-of-my-medication-concerns-your-gate



Awkward talking fetches the ego

The country’s front is alive

You don’t know if from that

Or one famous cat from five

I stopped counting at twenty nine

I tripped over you two into the zoo

Where death moonshines the blue

And the apocalypse trip is just Lu

Circumcised by the skies I was you

If the true truth’s not true

then you know what to do

It's blue most every night

It grew me into the day

A trick of light for sight

Don’t tell me what to say

The night held me tight

We flew a kite each night

It all ended so it’s alright

There is no need to light up

To be uptight or to fight

You don’t have to know me

Or the family tree in the see

I travelled all across the sea

to kite the family tree

Leave me alone

I’m too alone

Destiny was like this

7Destiny was this and I finally know

I surmise that homegrown never lied

Two infinity the stone that never died

Retarded vision en retart to the heart

Mon Coeur est excellent! merci pour votre art

Accept the probability

I’m just much God as you

I don’t even know me

No clue

Wrestlers live the casino

Coliseums are where they die

If you don’t already know

Some were born to buy

Rain comes like snow

Generations like a sky

Wind’s got nothing to blow

There’s no reason to why

I get up almost every night

Ghost was girl and I was guy

The sight of you got me so

I don’t cry after a good buy

But what good is the wood

If the flames don’t burn high

The name is where we die

Oh bring out the singer

Oh ring the winter’s dye

I was the little sinner

whose death didn’t die

Maybe I did it to impress you

God Carley

Dogs bar me



“To kill the neighbourhood rat, contact my good friend The Cat.

If you keep eating like that, you’re going to be fat as The Wombat.

And wearing a doormat for a hat doesn’t make you a diplomat.

If they say your voice is flat, it’s probably a fact is you can’t scat.

Today, I can't stay to chat, even if one of you is an acrobatic aristocrat”

The Slug slurs these final words, and then combusts right where he is sat.

by Dominic.Francis.142/@WalkingDoctorTONNAN

and sheltered mothers’ schemes.Some people stone the dignity of humanity and shelter mothers’ schemes.Lovers perish like wishes becoming the smothered reality Some people making deals with themselvesOther people are becoming the being they want to be

Some people see their soul sitting on their shelves

Other people dream black through see-through binary

Some people get so warm only to fine some formulaOther people are setting sail for the deep blue seaSome people believe that they are the orchestraOther people return you and burn your destiny

Some people believe the holy texts are a curseSome people grieve fragrance within a hearseSome people see that it could always be worseSome people shrug at the evil they disperseBut that’s the truth of allEverybody’s making deals with themselvesEverybody’s becoming the being they want to be

Everybody’s soul is sitting on their shelves

Everybody’s dreaming in binary black of ivoryEverybody’s getting warm with the formulaEverybody’s setting sail for the deep blue sea


Everybody knows you see through the schemeEverybody knows you be who you want to beEverybody knows I die alone in someone else’s dreamEverybody knows the holy texts are cursedEverybody knows the fragrance in a hearseEverybody’s making deals with themselvesEverybody’s becoming the being they want to be

Everybody’s soul is sitting on their shelves

Everybody’s dreaming in binary black of ivoryEverybody’s getting warm with the formulaEverybody’s setting sail for the deep blue sea



into too?

Many ships stink thru to the penniless truth winking sky of blue

so why would I guess to praise your anti-hero diplomatthat capitalised on the fact of reborn truth that’s drinking you?


0t the war-torn dandruff of the reborn truth into which you blew sinking?We were always the cool one those days but my amazed mind congratulated you to retaliate as if to waive the shady plays that can’t always escape

ways though shady plays can't erase the fainting gaze of the patronised painter who nearly admitted I lie above you and so thus quit the scruffy feeling simply to love you: take a just trip and you will fit in with the dandruff actualisation

waking to take a long trip to the smitten ship of factualisation to land the dandruff blue skies of reignited imagination,” I told The Empress, retiring from my impermanent job of President of Paragraph City, some writer that triggered some loony mooned burdened that actuality saw that the pretentious law got too involved trying to start a war, doing the weirdest things to the bottom of the federal government of Restralardin who knew why documents such as this humble the alien vagabaond that you just wish was yourself because most major political purgatories suffer a deep compromise due to the pain of such deep-leaking details such as fact that I don’t know who is reading this. Comprised preachers & leachers & parasites say that I know not much of yearly global fads, but .... uh, thank you for calling me gifted because it was you who kept giving me gifts... to myself the ages it took to build the rhyming parenthesis to climb paradigms to the coast where I dreaded the federal government who proposed jokes to the alien vagabond and the self. you forgot me and that’s all you were ever good at doing, so I am questioning the meaning of your existence rather than mine because you don’t think as if the trial was banned because of Saint Annie... too many legal medications makes every bat twat diplomat matter & these are not ugly worlds that beg you to exist within them...

It’s no great secret --

avenge your mother’s death

She shared her dreamShe shaved her dreamShe saved the dreamShe snared her scream



Your grown oddity loaned no empathy

but prodding the unknown fallacy

everyone stunned to stunt sympathy

I learned the sun burned their sea

though you newly knew me stubbornly

here come the societal sphere of infinity

longing for the giant hint’s of winter song in the freeze as if I devoted every note in my phone to stone thee free of infamy..


I s

 


 


 


 


 


 


 


 

 

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