Yeti my friend why are you there
Hiding in the trees like you care
Yeti my pal what do you want
With me

Yeti my friend I am not hairy
Large in size and equally scary
Yeti my pal I can see you
In the trees

Yeti my friend do you talk
About disco music and colourful chalk
Yeti my pal it’s rude to stare
From behind dust bins

Yeti my friend are you a thinker
Do you scout for bits and have a good tinker
Yeti my pal please be quiet
Your waking up the dogs

Yeti my friend where did you go
Back to the alps and the silly snow
Yeti my pal please come again
Next time I’ll show you YouTube

And the Yeti found it too warm
And the young woman thought she had to return home.
The thought saddens her, for she was in love with her savage lover…..
The yeti.
The two ran away into the mountains.
Where it was cooler and less human contact.
There the only thing warm was the Yeti’s embrace and the young woman’s heart.
At night outside of the cave, being kept warm my the yeti
The young woman and her Yeti
Kissing
While gazing at the stars.
As the Dipper twinkled. The young woman and the Yeti make love.
When it got too cold to bear the Yeti
Takes in her into the cave
The young woman lights a fire
Then the Yeti has his way with the young lady.
She kisses him
As they couple in the warm cave.
The young woman got exited and decided to have her way with her lover
She rides him and they kiss gently yet passionately.
He had to be careful as to not to but her as they embrace.
The Yeti reassured the young woman, that she didn’t have to go back.
She cried and then kissed her skilled lover with joy and passion.
Happy she would spend her life with her love.

Why can I not sleep?
Why am I turning?
Why are all the trees burning?
Forest fires, crooked liars
Why am I so sullen and drained?

In the bush, it's raining
Lost man on his own
Has anyone thought to save him? (him)

The monkey is waiting in the tree
Counts to three
Hearing the sound of the fume-fuelled wagon
He leaps on the back...
Attack! Attack! Attack! (Attack! Attack!)
No old heathen, not today

The rain falls upon the acidic trees of the millennium scorn
The fire has vanished, leaving behind a trail of death for all to see
The birds & the trees, then you & me
They twitching on the floor
Twitching on the floor
They twitching on the forest floor
The yeti is waiting (The yeti is waiting)
The yeti is waiting for us (The yeti is waiting)
The yeti is waiting to take us into his home
Care for us just like one of his own

Wild bones!
Wild bones!
Wait!

The yeti no longer has a home
The trees are gone & nothing has grown
A table, a chair, an internet nightmare
When will the forest speak?
When all is dried up and way too weak

Wait for nightfall, it's so beautiful out here
Up high in a wave of oxygen love I sit
Up high on this glorified cement postcard I spit
I spit
I spit upon thee

Wait for your red skies
Wait for the red skies
Do you know how it feels to be alive?
Do you know how it feels to be alive?
Let me know, let me know how you feel...
When will the forest speak?
When the trees are dried up and way too weak?

Wasting a life on calculations
Not enough money for operations
Waste of life, statistics, plastic soldiers
Sound of sticks rubbing together
All the people gather
All the people gather

Wait for the man, he must have a plan
Show me and make me a smile I can wear
Me & you we can make up too
No use for hate if you're wearing my shoes

Be happy, be sad, be a wild rotten lamb
Don't bother me now, I'm drenched to the bone

A sound of a truck and an axe and a fall
Of a tree and a knife and a planet so small
Sick to the bone of your dour heart of stone. (stone stone stone)
Sick to the bone of your dour heart of stone!
Let me know how you feel...

Let me know how you feel
You say it's too hot so you can take off your top
A clank of a slot machine coins
Machine coins bled unclean

A beaten old lizard staggers over the road
A hand and a heart, the lake in the park
The candle won't light and the fire won't spark

I'm worn and I'm torn but I still carry on
I'm worn and I'm torn but I still carry on
The money is angry, the money has taken the...

Watching mayhem leaping from truck to truck
This is where he rejoins his friends
They feast, they drink, they talk about
How things used to be...

I still can't sleep
I still can't sleep
I still can't sleep

A million minds and a million voices
A million thoughts, and only one choice
The need to find peace

Sometimes watching pretty girl trudge through snow
Dark hair stand out like bright eyes
Against ice and white

She never really know I watching
Hiding out in nothing like monster

Me thinks maybe word for feeling
Watching her makes Yeti feel warm inside
Even when it grows dark and there is no light

Hear other human call feeling love
Love sounds warm and soft... but is sometimes sad
Like fluffy kitten that chokes to death on bit of pretty ribbon

Like Yeti hiding in snow
Watching pretty girl that will never know

But now it is time to go
While feeling warm in ice and snow

Maybe one day she will know
Yeti loved her

The yeti hear a distant laugh
He recognized the laugh
The laugh of his flower
He went out to
A Poppy field
where they usually
Couple
Only
To find his flower
Making love
Coupling witha young monk
The young man had no sadistic intentions in his face
They were in love
Sadden the yeti waited in his cave
For his flower.
When the young woman
Came back
The yeti gently asked her
What it meant
And she said she was trying
To make a family for her savage lover
She was asked if she had feelings for the young man
She kissed the yeti
And told him
That he was the only on in her heart.
There they embrace
And couple
The yeti
Thinking that he would have a
Child.  
His flower talking about the young monks name
Geshi Thubten
And his plans for talking his flower
To the city of Kuqa. (Kutcha)
And that she would not go with the youngster.

As the young lady got picking poppies
The Yeti comes with
Curiosity got the better of him.
She puts a poppy behind her ear.
The Yeti comments on her beauty
And kissed her gently as not to bite for he doesn’t want to harm his delecate flower
It was night and it was getting colder so the yeti holds and carries her to his home.
The young woman puts on a fire to keep the warm
There in the Yeti’s shelter
The Yeti kisses her in the lit up cave
The drawings and art show up in the walls as they make love.
They explored their bodies.
The young woman explores his fluffy, muscular and furry body
While he explored her sold gently built body.
They couple with each other until morning.

One moon lit night
The young woman went out the cave
After an evening of coupling with her yeti lover.
The moon was big and bright
Like her face.
She in invites the yeti to see the moon and he said that it wasn’t as beautiful as her.
Her lover held on to her as if she was priceless.
In the moonlight among the stars
The yeti and the young woman kiss.
While kissing the Yeti has his way with her again
They couple on the edge tantrically.
She could not contain her pleasure
And she moaned loudly
As if she were a she yeti.
Her skilled and savage lover smothered her with kisses.
When he arrives at her mouth
She opens up like a flower… inviting him in to kiss her in the mouth.
This time she had her way with him.

The young lady asked the Yeti
“What is your name…do you have one?” As the kissed.
While kissing, the Yeti said that he had no name. So the young lady
Massaging his chest gave him a name
Vajramrita… after the fierce deity
For he was a fierce lover.
He kissed her on the fore head.
Vajramrita and the young woman kissed
Their tounges me and dance erotically.
She sat on her lover while kisssing and rode him and rolled her hips.
He ****** with her ****** rhythms as they coupled.
Soon enough the Yeti got on top of his delecate lover.
He entered her and gently jumping
As if trying not to hurt her
The yeti thengot between her legs
She could feel his face bewteen her.
Then she felt his probing tounge.
He gently yet passionately kissed her womanhood
Again not to hurt her.
Even monsters need love and defection.
The young woman stroked his head and he looked at her.
She took him my the scruff and pulled his head closer to her
And kissed him. As they kissed monster and human explore eachother in an embrace
The young lady went down
And kissed and nipped at his member.
After she was done with his member
The kissed and they slept in each other’s arms
Body twisted and entwined together

Just hanging around stuck in the background where Echo and the Bunnymen sing sad songs,they're not funny men and I'm not one too.
Going to take my Queen and fulfill a dream,dine in style at Mile End,wend my way down to Nandos,pay for chicken,sticking less to the plan because I'm only a man I travel to Hackney where the wild men of Shoreditch come out to attack me with rolled up newspapers,their capers amuse me until I blink twice, and I see, that my Queens seen it all and goes off in a huff,
Puffs of smoke are no joke when you're born as a bloke because the magic don't last,blast it nearly passed it,the turn off for middle age,junction twenty six on the revolving glass mirrored stage,but I made it and now I'm back in the sun waiting for my Queen to come,my apology accepted along with the promise of a day trip to Poundland,stand and deliver while we shiver our timbers and limber up for the party on interstate four,
sore from the laughter we take a bath shortly after because we like to stay clean,my Queen thinks I'm ***** and men go that way after thirty but I'm not so sure.
I have pure intentions and clean underwear,does she care? I think so but it's so hard to know what she's thinking,she tastes of melons when I'm drinking her in.
In this flotilla where the will of the one doesn't win,we all stick together, whether it's a good thing or not,
but I've got a plan and because I'm only a man it's a good one and so I carry on and she carries me,I meet her mum and she marries me..sounding obscene,I mean I married my Queen,not her mum.

It's all in the spaghetti which I'm sure that SHY YETI'S BEST OF BRITISH - PART 1 doesn't cover,so it won't keep me warm but no harm in me looking through this facebook and cooking a dish,should I wish, for some it's back to interstate four,where the cops will be waiting with a ticket to the potteries and a fine for the finder of the stopped timex watch winder.

where was I
in Mile end?
yes,
going to spend but stay lean as I talk with my Queen,
and so it goes on.

The young lady
Shaved her head on a daily basis
To keep up appearances
For yeti and human alike.
She goes out of the cave
And sees the large moon.
She said it reminded her of
Her savage yet skilled lover
The Yeti
Say that the moon reminded him of
Her beautiful face with her shaved head.
The yeti sits with his
Delecate flower
And they kissed.
She teases him with her tounge
And the yeti kisses her in return
Ever so gently.

I don't just want to be you lover
But a passionate one ineed
As we make out
I want to make you feel good
You bring out the she yeti in me

hunched back, towering shadow
12 feet tall and loping through snow
is this beast, wild, in my imagination?
or is it reality
as true as the frostbite
that threatens to
take my nose?

I never believed, I come from skeptics
but then as a fat man, I never had faith
that I'd lose enough weight
to carry myself through the Himalayas

THAT is more amazing to me
than a creature of legend
dragging its mid-day meal
back to its cozy cave
in frost-covered mountains

it stops, stands, regards me
one brute arm holding to its ****
white steam blowing, locomotive
from its nose
mouth opens as if to roar
and I...

wave

it tilts its head, closes its mouth
and with a shrug
leaps off through the snow
stiffening mountain sheep
flailing along behind
like a pull-toy

I say, more to myself than anyone:

Yeti, your secret is safe with me
No one back home
would ever believe.

2/17/15

I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend
Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time.
Many of you have read about me on the internet,
But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot
Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence
But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy

Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair
(or my parents basement whatever you call it).
Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic

Many of you may call us “ Losers”
But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way.
First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about
Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping
We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our *****
No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse,
Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track.
We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness
On Skyrim of course.

You think that we are hideous,
But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature,
My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space
I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******* mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy.

Many of you think that we are weak
I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem,
Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof
I am a nerd, hear me roar.

My roar breaks your paper thin confidence
As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October
My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends?
Call me weak, I dare you

Being a nerd has taught me many things
Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving
And that Neo should of taken the blue pill
Because that movie series was terrible.
And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel
But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.

.h'america.... the last theological playground of... whatever the mind left behind in the decrepit bulwark that's europe... oh... and those mid-western died-hard hitchcock platinum-blondes in a-waiting... my typo pristine dutch-girls-go-to-church mantra... otherwise? no b'ooh'y'ah! chugger-chugger-chugger-chuck-cherry-choppy-chops-you-*******-cuc­­k-chuckie! quasi-whitman wannabe... billy was a butcher... a thematic long lost gun... billy was a butcher... and all the ripe choppers of pork... gave us a belief in snow; and what some heaved with a falling-of-a-star of dis-.belief: i too was bound to glorification of: what was expected to be known! and the subsequent: wow! i have met only the most limited of men... i have therefore met all men... the "all" men of this rubric of a year, a decade... all that's bygone of a yawn; swear it sn't so! a so! that's not be be sown! i am here too: upon the whim of expectation... merely... waiting... a man comes to be born come his 30s... his 40s? his nostalgia "moment"... former known name of: Jack Lil Lick 'Em Boots... and the crescendo of pauper's black lining of the Wall St. "better oiled"... scalp the ******! and send him unto the rabbi's true blessing... in the cusp of the scalp of the kippah!  and now... you take... your anglo-spreschen-tangle... into the salt-wounds of your h'america! first born: young... i don't like your revision... looking toward Europe with a hope for a sensibility... this pseudo deutsche: pseudo dutch, anglo-; this is no loss of the French or the Slav! this is our celebration! does one have an irish phrasing in uns to be at in it or one? beyond this grip boyo bound glue? this clerical spare of the otherwise leftover skivvy? we have made barons of these minutes.... as if we were to be kings of the coming years... and how we didn't become gods of the atoms... and the men of the suns and planets... that is our... most worthwhile conundrum in a da pacem domine bound; you're going to Beirut on me... or something?!

in my haitus away from this canvas:
naive me thought: perhaps a surge...
again proven wrong -
albeit not disappointed -
so i had to look elsewhere -

i had to look for a clarity of diction...
i had to move away from
the western lands and their:
death of god and their death by metaphysics...

even in this barren english...
i could not figure out:
why are these people,
apologetics from the central leftists...
these liberals...
ditto: i will butcher this name...
i will butcher the pronunciation
of this word...

if there are "questions" regarding
what's being phonetically encoded...
so much for me "learning to code"...
i too once wrote a html encoding...
with all the < and < and > toys...
spacing... {[( gradations... etc.,

i had to look east, after a while writing
schlechtdeutschegrammatik...
bad german grammar...
again: it's posthumous "Latin"...
it might be...
bad grammar german...
or german bad grammar...
deutscheschlechtgrammatik...

spelling is the mathematical equivalent
of... arithmetic...
but grammar? you need a ping-pong
table...
you need something cymru-esque...
a scandinavian-esque bilingual cushioning...

english alone will not solve the matter...
it's not french, it's not german,
it's certainly not spanish...
spanish and how post-colonialism was
settled with a post-racial attitudes of
Brazil...
england has taken too much time
looking up and out of the h'american
*******...
no grand satan 'ere...
no silk road bazar of fruits exotica from...
Teheran...
something more... subtle...

i had to go back to the "tsar"...
and the цэркйэв: 'cerkiew'...
and there i was amused how...
well apparently...
there are a lot of words
that do use the sz'cz...
enough... to deviate from
the Latin bollocking represented via
шч = щ....

that's perfectly logical...
i'm done with "perfectly logical"
if it exists outside of the realm of
orthography...

szczypta soli - pinch of salt...
in russian...
щ... that's a bit of a "question"...
yes, yes it is complicated...

szczery / szczera (he's honest /
she's honest)...
szczerość (honesty)...

no it's not... you german fickle-wit!
you forget the ы!

ah! well then... щыптa....
**** me... disorientating...
they could do all that with greek and glagolitic...
but they still had to keep...
latin: roman: holy roman empire: GERMAN...
lowercase lettering...
akin to a... e... c doesn't count...
since that's a greek cedilla "missing"...
ç... or... sigma... ς -
otherwise known in english as that S
after the apostrophe...
when something is called being:
the possessive article...
a (indefinite) the (definite) - some -ism to mind?!
no... but 's is... a bit like the SS...
in greek...
all in lower case: stephen's and...
στεφηνς...
σtephenς: that very much desired: ha!
ridiculous gag... the "much desired"
alternative to an apostrophe S ('s)...

it's Stephen's! it's Stephen's!
it's Sylvester's!
three articles in english:
the indefinite article (a)...
the definite article (the)...
and the possessive article ('s) - apostrophe S...
eS eS!

russian accents...
ъ, ы, ь...

but i only know of one "hard sign" example...
and that disqualifies the J ever needing a lower-case
"dot"... ȷ... namely... зъ: ż... alternatively
also: rz... and ж...
żuk! beetle! somehow the caron makes it...

szczyt! zenith!
щыт!

- and since i'm no longer writing:
i'd be writing if i were monolingual...
or... if i was animated by
the sort of Knausgardian bilingualism
of chop of swede: marker norgie...
but... i'm painting...

i forgot how to write when i could
see "synonyms" of sounds...
entombed in two different phonetic
encodings, namely elevated latin
and "pan-greek": cyrillic...

the variations between:

й and ы...
i.e. via е - "ye"
ё - "yo" (there's an umlaut in russian?!)
"у" - yew and you...
the gamma subscript...
ю - "yu"...
and... я - "ya"...

with regards to this rubric...
i am in the middle...
i can see a distinction between
a "y" (whine why and no I)...
hardly a jotted anecdote...
and yes... the closest the russians
ever come to Cracow is with ы
to a western slavic y...
ask me: toй - ask me: toȷ...
who needs a dot above the J
in the lower-case... if...
if... there's no absolute need for it to
be there: unlike some greenwich mean time
focus?
it ȷust so happens that...
the better clasp of the equator is
married to Greenwich: London...

dr. who time lords:
bellybuttons of the world: the english are...
again: i have to remind myself...
ı am not wrıtıng... ı am... paıntıng...

1(one), l(el)... I and ı(ıota)...
i guess an apostrophe would suffice...
ıf it's not an "ı"...
ı'ota... ı: oath...
sure as fıgurative "****" it's not...

ı must wrıte some more examples
in russıan...
to get me off me mark into
some "wax lyrıcal"...
ıslander mentalıty of the hen'glısch...

see how "the dot" can appear...
and disappear, as one see fıt?
and ıt makes: no little bıt of...
"dıfference"?!

i need to sleep on thıs "exercise"...
dot-pop-up...
dot-fold
dot-pop-up...
dot-fold...

w­­ıll eyes gets it?
hardly...

the rest of these cosmopolitan *******
focused on gwaffiti awt...
which is welsh for: GRA GRA...
when was the last time you heard
an englishman trill an R?
ı can't remember...
give me a night to soak up the pickling
juıces... i can't remember the last time
i heard an homest trIll eıther!
pauper me...

it's probably because of the welsh:
GWA GWA! gwadleıth cowonew...
or coroner row row row a rombat into a rue:
or a woo...
rhyme: contorts...
shapes and disappearing: oopses...
a whole multıtude of 'em...
come like the tıde...
leave... lıke a tilde... quası N:
it's a... H is a zeus...
and J is a Ha Ha Ha wrap-up rap of
laughter: in spanısh: of course...

i don't wrıte... ı paint...

impromptu interludes, quickened:
i'm a marriage of two continents...
and one island...
east of moscow...
asia... west of warsaw and...
these gloomy island pits of
idiosyncracy... never quiet the icelandic
answer to norway...
or greenland's answer to denmark...
but an island... nonetheless...

- to hell witth cascading linear cascades
of narrative: i'm blind to the optics
of "the narrative" in the paragraph
format...

i will look back east...
i will look at the russian script...
i will look at it as a time in ******
history equivalent to:
why didn't you just think of it as Greek?
but "my people" didn't...
and i'm not exactly a "why / didn't"...
i'm part of the excavation machinery...
i come with what was served...
i will leave without
leverage...

and here is the russian icon translated
from the Babel...
the following are orthodox letters
shared by one and all
to the western lands...

а б в г д e з и й
к л м н o п р c т
у ф

a b v g d e z i j
k l m n o p r s t u
f

now we leave: łen łill that be?
we should all somehow know...
to łork out a When a Where
(notably with the "h" being but a surd)...

mother how should i further this?
herbata
hasło (ha-s-woe)
hołd (**-**-w'd)

to no other: otherwise only in scotland:
the loch of tipsy work...
albeit: orthographic distinction...
хęć - a whim a desire...
a loch is no: cheat of a lake...
latching onto the otherwise boredom caron
exposed...

дух (ghost) with a душa (soul)...

else there's c dissociated from the s...
and more so with a kappa kaput...
the drumstick slick on a wet snare of: tss...
ц - almost...
then morphing into a ць -
yet in my version: no so silent...
ćma: moth...
цmokaць / cmokać: to click with the tongue...
to kiss smackingly -
to ingest food via a smoczek...
a smoчek - a smoček... the baby soother...

this is my third day having to return to
this canvas...

first thing's first:
palatization (palatißation)
is not... a name of german crusader song:
palästinalied...

this is one of the main reasons why
i can't imagine myself as being able:
to write a novel -
i can't bear this birth of words into
this pseudo-Kandinsky -
it would be much easier with painting
something for a year -
than writing for a year -
the same thing, over and over again...

if i write a "poem" or, rather, a poo'em...
i expect the concept of
ensō: a circle has to be drawn with
a single uninhibited stroke...
when the body is set free and the body
merely complies...

comparison... if one were to draw
a most pristine ensō...
one would never achieve an ouroboros
depiction... it's quiet impossible
to use one volume of ink
attached to a stroke to complete
a circle... let alone a depiction
of an ouroboros...
what starts off as concrete soon...
fades away... thins out...
until there is so little ink left
on the brush that individual hairs
of the brush start appearing...

a pristine depiction of life...
but never the hardline ouroboros
depiction: this cerberus of reincarnation:
i never would have believed in it -
given that: there would have to be
a limited number of souls...
the thought that i might be introspective
enough as to be one of these: "elites"...
and the rest... were "n.p.c." drones...
zombie-esque drifters...
that had no psychological infrastructure
to have memory and rubric of learning
bound to them to be: invested in?

i am still going to write this Kandinsky...
one way or another...
but i can say only that:
i can imagine myself returning
to a painting - and painting it for a year...
but a book?
if a poem can't be written in one sitting...
it's not a poem...
this is not a poem: this is a novel
equivalent...
the best to my ability: which is none...

all i will ever manage with this
is a pedantic scrutiny of russian orthography,
how i don't follow metaphysical arguments
of the germans, the english or the french,
because i don't dream that often,
and when i do dream?
i dream up nonsense...
last time i dreamed that a hiena was
biting at my arm like a corn-cob...
but it wasn't biting to draw blood...
it was biting and cackling in order
to tattoo me... it bit into my arm and detailed
indentations akin to braille...
a pianola roll...

and that's the only details of the dream
i can remember...
perhaps i strained memory...
perhaps people who dream...
are fond of forgetting...
perhaps i don't dream because i can
remember being 4...
a shadow (my maternal great-grandfather)...
a large piano, a small piano...
he worked a retirement as a security guard
in a kindergarten...
i once spent an afternoon with him...
i have seen pictures of him...
but i don't remember the face in the photographs...
he sat me before a bonsai piano
while he sat at the large piano...
and i guess: we were going to be the new
Chopins or something...
he's still a shadow... a grey form...
perhaps a extract of memory that reaches
back 29 years is the reason why i don't
dream... then again...

what if i were to have recurrent dreams?
i've heard people have recurrent dreams...
i just have details of dreams...
i'm not complaining but...
it has become exhausting to simply sleep sometimes...
to replay that lullaby of the void...
yes: yes... i will return to russian orthography:
give me a moment!

well, on my "haitus" i had to look beyond
"conventionality"...
there was a period where i found
the glagolitic script - i said to myself:
there must be an equivalent alphabet to match
the runes...

there must have been a way to encode
without the romans and greeks...
after all... there is the St. Cyrill alphabet
and that of Methodus...
how many ethnic groups are there
on this old, yawning continent -
minor point: old age is not plagued by
yawning - only youth yawns...
old age is cured of yawning -
hanging over them the yawning death...
when father - when father - will this old
ponce come into my *****?

glagolitic and cyrillic?
well Ⰱ Б...
Ⱂ and P... which is not exactly lent-greek...
i guess it's only "wise"
to go back into the modern scribbles...

there are so many branches
to be plucked off a pine
to reserve yourself with ending up
to owning a pike...
so what would it help me:
if i had to reverse and ezra pound
my way forward...
bubble bulging roma notations?
i see: when that chisel in marble
V is not supposed to be a U...

EVROPA... etc.

i need to bring to the fore my own
distinctions...
spread: universally within the confines
of the people that speak it:
i even had to made balkan additions...
like the caron S and caron C...
to hide the english gimmick
of SHarp and CHeat...
evidently we use the Z to replace
the H when stressing our "demands"...
Šarp and Čeat...

so back into russian?
i almost forgot that i said...
their orthography is not worth the dog's
bollocking of a lick...

i was wrong, obviously...
but even the russians are supposed
to be allowed their idiosyncracy -
their orthographic pedantry...
russian orthographic pedantry?
ah...

when е met э...
was also the time when э didn't meet з...
this is pedantic...
another russian pedantic "detail"...
how many Y's or J's do you need...
to detail: the elongated-iota?
before... "****" becomes confusing...
within the confines of gamma...

i'm pretty sure the russians have
fixated their attention on the Y/J "debate"
working from their central premise of
the english AYE... I... the pronoun bunker...
der deutsche affirmative: ja!
yah in the hebrew respective for: wisdom...

let's see... i'm pretty sure the russians
have all the vowels bow to this mecca
of Moscow, cite me: and please reiterate...
that i use J and Y interchangeably...
i don't imply: to jot - to "dz"ot...
or Joseph in Ypres...

otherwise: a yeti climbing a yew shouting: yes!
it's not exactly jargon -
but... a prefix y- in english...
is not a suffix -y in english...
which just... "out of the blue"...
demands to be associated with the iota
of: ply... and yet: it's no i.e. e'et...
it's neither ate or the fwench and (et)...
it's a yeti... but not a jetty!

never mind... back into the fussy russian...
i'm pretty sure you will find all
of the pentagram (vowels) bowing before
the altar of pseudo-gamma:

                                     ю (yu)
                                    /
(details in) й ------ я (ya) -- ы (oh look, solo!)
   the above"rant")  |
                                  у (which is a u)
                                /   \
                     e (ye)       ё (yo)

almost... but i'm far from learning russian...
i find these orthographic details...
coexisting...

зъ = ж = ż = rz = ř / ž...

eastern, mother slavic...
beginning with a western slavic translation
"innovation"...
central / western slavic...
balkan slavic...
oh we are such famous clarinet players!
because what happens
when the caron is sliced into two...
and an acute ****** pops out?!

hence the зъ beginning...
yes... it's not "silent"... it's simply not
palatalißed... the tongue doesn't tip-off
the palette... the sound escapes via
the gritting of teeth...
with it: the tongue can rattle and a trill
R is heard...

зъ (ż) contra зь (ź) -
życzenia - well wishes| źródło - source...
now to only write these words
in russia - without knowing the russian
noun-denotations...
for orthographic purposes...

жыченя... or is it... жычениa?
зьруд... problem... can't find the english
W in russian... or the ****** Ł...
there's the english V... the ****** W...
but russian doesn't translate (Вв)
so vell into wery: not so weary but
nonetheless very not so, so...

my problem is not about that though...
this poem this poo'em this:
a pigeon drops a zeppelin-****
on your top-hat implies good luck...
no 13's or black cats crossing your path either...
i could most honestly spend
100 years of each of the 100 individuals
bound to the salt mines in the vicinity
of Beijing... and i would still find myself...
without tears...
because this is the most inexhaustible
crux: it's really bugging me foundation stone...

i won't even mind the modern greeks
at this point... they do use diacritical markers
too... but over-do it... as if compensating
or trying to compete on level par
with their metaphysical dittos...

чaхa: czacha... almost slang term for:
czaszka... чaкшa...
and this is by no means "smart"...
i can't solve crosswords puzzles...
well i can: but i need to find myself
in the company of my grandmother...
in the morning...
i would have had to drooled over some novel
from 7am until she gets out of bed
come 9am... we'd drink coffee and i'd
smoke cigarettes...
and it would be a month prior to christmas
or easter, or the interlude...
and... i'd be freed from writing or
reading anything in english...
either me looking at diacritical distinctions
in the realm of orthography between:
russian, ******, balkan...
or... me never learning french,
or attempting to: ever, again!

******* suffix-eaters...
dyslexics in reverse...
say one thing: write another thing...
this is probably born from my frustration
at being unable to learn french...
perhaps after having acquired english
i was given german to learn...
but no... first hurdle... french...
flop!
now it's a diet of no crosswords...
some sudoku from time to time...
and my new hobby after having found
"too many" googlewhacks...

so there's nothing smart about this:
this is in no way useful to anyone -
being the sort of person
to "mind" whenever one's being asked
to spell their surname...
it's hardly that difficult but...

would i go for the echo sierra charlie
hotel lima echo romeo tango...
or go out full greek with it?
perhaps the greek...
since that would solve the problem
i've had for a while,
concerning the eta / epsilon "debate"...

how does a greek laugh -
what is the crux letter via which
a greek laughs?
you see a H shape on the horizon...
but you... hear the noun: eta...
you later see the name eta...
but that's eta: without an apostrophe...
the apostrophe 'eta being the "surd" H...

in greek then...
epsilon sigma... **** it... there's no "sch"
of a german worth in greek...
let's cut it out:
epsilon lambda epsilon rho tau...

otherwise in russian...
once more:

ś(lub) - wedding - сь(люб)
"soft" sign - ' - apostrophe -
or ACUTE elsewhere...
why not сьлуб?
i don't know... it's not like сь is even
minded in russian...

ah! my favorite!
goń! gonitwa: a race -
the verb impetus: race! chase after!
гoнь!

since ы is the "odd" one out between
the application of "ь" and
and "ъ"...
come to think of it...
ы gave birth to: ю (yu), я (ya),
у (u), й ("y"), и ("e")...
i... i.e. and... in ******...
akin to those languages that use e...
to also imply and...
ё (yo)... how did i miss the umlaut
infiltrating the russian 'bet...
i blame catherine the great!
and... е (ye)...
is that the pentragram?
u, a, e, i, o... yes! we have it!

i truly had better days when sudoku was
the better puzzle to fill a day with...
not this... from glagolitic, to greek,
to roman, to post-roman to russian
and back into...

if we are all "supposedly" literate...
begs the question why: why oh why the emoji...
the *******-wanking hieroglyphics...
the :) and what not...
i guess to better escape this sort of
headaches... minor chances of everyone
becoming a bilingual:
but what's there to brag about
being bilingual!
i guess the polyglots do not have such
headaches of detail...
they just... bypass these rules and regulations...

to better guide me:
if i managed to sift through james joyce's
finnegans wake... and didn't find any
diacritical markers in it?
can't i compensate?
i'm compensating right now!
if the 2010s as a decade was a decade
filled with... sisyphus titans akin
to kant, hiedegger, kierkegaard,
knausga(a)rd, joyce...
beckett - yes...
again that hollowed "y" distinction!
it's not a sisi: yes yes problem...
hardly me being ***** either...
e'ver... i'ver...
ain't that a *****...

clarity of diction... the best motto there is...
crab-bucket-intellectualism:
alternatively the focus away from
any ontological stressors of "example" -
ontological and its variant of
a priori:
perhaps, given that the ontological
is an a priori argument...
here's my crossword puzzle -
ref. thesaurus rex...

and by no means... at all...
etymology is the better variant of any known
history...
when this bundle of words:
that an ontological dialectic can be achieved:
that ontology can be given within
as much as an a priori: bigot! focus...
with as much as an a posteriori:
wizened unicorn quid pro quo tanz!

hamsterwheel loopholes or:
crab-bucket intellectualism...

now: i really could have put these words
to better use... to make them linear...
less cryptic... but how can i?
i'm solving a crossword puzzle in reverse!
i don't expect the easily scared moths
to entertain this fire...

i expect midgets to be dancing...
before my eyes...
whenever i listen to
faun's tanz mit mir
or in extremo's rotes haar...
when the bagpipes and the flutes
kick in...

- since if i were to write a coherent sentence:
succumb to a linear narrative...
i'd people reading this to be also found:
easily talking about it...
perhaps i don't enjoy freedom of speech
as much as i enjoy the freedom to think...
perhaps i haven't written anything
worth speaking about, regurgitating,
making vogue, working for some intellectual
period-piece of "vogue"...
perhaps this is a shared problem,
hidden in a cipher...
of: how i can't heave this tool...
this tapeworm of existence,
this medium of god...
to later trash it, to have nothing better
to do with it other than play-games...
worded games... crossword puzzles...
perhaps i need a crossword puzzle to imply:
neighbour's share some words...
together... but then write them differently...
perhaps i require a crossword puzzle...
to read into some russian...
on the praxis base of english...
flying past Warsaw toward the itch
of the edge of Asia...
breathe the air - the heart of the continent...

perhaps i would have never managed
to escape this world if i ingested
mind-benders of the h'american 1960s
revolutionary schematics of the:
new-humanists... crash course in literature:
only one magic mushroom trip away!

фoрк ин дэ рoaд (fork in the road)

ИN...

some shared words, of etymological
curiosity...

(fork) вилка - wilka -
polish? wilka? that which belongs to
a wolf... widelec...
видэлэц...

(knife) нож - nóż -
well... orthography comes into play...
while people can have their...
ahem... in-the-meantime metaphysical
playground...
the ground, the word,
the geology is already here...
written alternatively?
нузъ...

i take a different stance to the common day
****** back east...
when russia starts slagging you off...
you put on a Boris Yeltsin mask on
and dance the drunk panda dance...

(spoon) ложка - łyżka -
in polish? ah those russians... ло ло...
лож: lorz...
lo lo and behold the translated
quasi-russian into the borders of europe...
ł.w.(ызъка)...

black and white (черный и белый):

czarny i biały: rho-si-ye!
char-nee-ye! bel'ye)...

perhaps the timing is a bit off:
the proper wording would be:

czarno na białym -
not: in black and white...
чaрнo на биa-wh-ым...

knocked-out to be honest...
the russians use ый like that?
YJ? oh right! i use it too!
in the prompt:

tyj! tyj ty grubasie!
hmm... -asie...
it would do me a lot of good...
if that iota didn't have a decapitated
head of a halo hovering above it...
why? so i could introduce the acute
slant over the S and surd it...
i.e. -aśιe...

тый! ты груб... exactly...
grub-               -aсьие
тый! ты грубaсьие!
to grow fat: тый!
              "problem": -aśιe vs. -aсьие...
well... it's there: сь...
but it also isn't there: и...

but it isn't: but it also isn't...
i just managed to find out that...
in warsaw (if i lived in warsaw)...
we have that conjunction: -ый-
however rare it is: it is there...

any more delegations from Moscow?
tyj! tyj ty grubasie!  
and i will write these last few words
and know why i don't really feel like
solving crosswords puzzles...
or doing those i.q. schematic tests...

**** it... the welsh should know and help me
out... concerning?
how it's YN and not IN...
how it's Y and not I when referring to THE gwyll:
dusk...
y gwyll o hywels: the dusk of powells...
only the welsh would know my "pain"...
yn y gwyll o y hywels:
in the dusk of the powells...

taking a step back - a step back...
yes yes, apologies... if my punctuation...
is too much of a ******* arithmetic!
too bad!

p.s. and yes... don't leave anything lying
around in the drafts or as private...
chances are... with a 2 day delay...
this will never be fed into the LATEST feed.

The young lady was out in a field when she saw the moon raise
While she picked flowers
The moon white and grey
Reminded her of her lover…Vajramrita the Yeti.
His handsome face.
She runs to the cave
Greeting her Yeti lover with a kiss.
Na kayrangla gawpo yo, Vajramrita! She said as they kiss.
She takes the Yeti to the field
To couple.
The stars were clear and the moon bright and round
There under the cosmos
They couple
While the universe pulses through them.
Vajramrita, the Yeti, asked
His lovers name
The young lady said that her name was…
Poppy.
And she was as beautiful as one.
There in the field andmoon light
They couple in the chilled autumn air.
As one being.

The yeti woke up to hear his lover
Being dragged by her parents
Like a savage an animal.
They were planning on making a nun out of her
Enrage the Yeti tears the two villains away from
His beloved
They fight back
Yet they sucum to his strength and leave never
To bother the lovers again.
Frighten the young lady
Runs to the Yeti
He embraces her
They kiss
Though she was afraid
She opened up
And their tounges dance
They hold eachother
And kiss
Never to be separated.
And our love.
That night.
They couple.
She lets the Yeti to
Have his with her.
He was gentle about it.
She opens her legs
Allowing him to enter
Surprised that she could handle his flesh
They make love
In the dark.

When we both signed
Off on kik
I said that I
Will be thinking
Of you
My darling Yeti
Of a man.
All that I desire that you
Make love to my flesh
With your tounge and mouth.

Woke up
Thinking you
My British Yeti
With butterflies in my head
In my heart
And
In my womanhood
My desires
Woke me up
How I want you
Inside me.

This is me.

I've taken a myriad of names, yeah,
But I am who I am now and I was who
I was yesterday and tomorrow is a
Mystery we can all wait for

Patience buys the future
And fear is the unknown.

I know how hard it can be to get the two
Confused sometimes but it's okay;
We all do it.

Trapped by this gravity,
Beaten by the wind,
I am well-worn and strong.

Emerging from this heat wave,
I am raw, and when I
Escape the deep freeze, I am
Like a yeti

My height is insurmountable and
My skin is tougher than the Earth's
Mantle magmata;
My eyes are white to reflect every color
Known to man and I will
Live an die unknown in the gale
Like I was always destined to

This is an awakening.

I am a beast of the dark and
He who haunts the study in the
Hours forsaken by God;
I am the name seldom spoke;
I am the fear which dwells deep
Within the wicked

Behold me and my creation and
While leaning back, remember that
This is barely the beginning

I'm supposed
To take life seriously

To make commitments
And plans

To think about the future
And set goals
And on on and on

And care about money

And I think it is just
A bunch of *******

I liked that documentary
About the guys
Who went to ride
Their unicycles
In Bhutan

They rode down
The stone stairs
Of mountain trails

They met with the woman
Before they journeyed
High into the mountains
Of Eastern Bhutan

She told them of the Yeti
And that they would feel
His presence there

She said it would be best
If they did not see him

But they might encounter him
Because the Yeti
Had never seen
A unicycle before

I think it would be fun
If they taught the Yeti
How to ride the unicycle
Just as they were
Teaching the local villagers

In a new cave
The Yeti and his lover
Woke up to strange
Yet
Pleasant music.
“Good morning my sweetheart, the Yeti said.
As he gently kissed
His delecate flower
The young woman did not
Know to couple
Dance
Or both.
They both decided
That their tounges will do
The dancing as they meet
During the kiss.
The Yeti and the young woman
Couple tenderly
Though on his terms
He has his way with her
The young woman
Loved every minute
Of it.

As they couple
The Yeti and his flower
Did not know
That some one
Was watching them
Particularly the yeti’s flower
But they were in too
Much bliss
The young woman
Noticed the young man
And quietly
Told her skilled lover
That they should
Go back.
To where it is safe
When they were safe
They continued their
Love making
This time the yeti
Had his way with her.
Loving her reassuringly
That he will protect
His flower.

The yeti made a fire
While the young woman
Memorized the Buddhist
Scriptures
In which she stole.
The yeti heard her chanting
The mantras
The young lady
Turned around to find
The yeti looking
At the scriptures
Gave her a gentle kiss on the lips
She teases him by
Tracing his lips with her tounge.
Then her skilled
Savage lover let’s her in.
Their tounges meet and dance
As they couple shyly.
By the warm fire.  
Knowing their love is forbidden.  
A misunderstood love.

The yeti woke up
To find that his flower
Wasn’t there
All he hear was the word ma’re
Being repeated and screamed
He recognized the voice
It was that of his beloved
She was in distress
When he found her
Being ravaged by a monk
This one was young
Trying to kiss her
She fighting him off.
He enraged beat the young man to his death.
Then yeti
Took and carried his flower back to
Their love nest
He took the young woman to the springs
And saw that she was bloodied
Black and blue.
When she stirred
He thought she near death
And stayed with her until she recovered
The first time they couple
The young woman
Was combative
Until she realized who was kissing her.
They were gentle kisses on rough and sadistic.
Then she realized her lover
And let him in
So the can gently couple
“I am sorry for leaving you,”
She wept.
The yeti and his flower kiss
There tounges meet and slowly danced
A comforting dance
As they couple.

The yeti and the young woman coupled
In the light of a full moon
Out side of the cave
Making things to obvious
Other humans
By coupling out side of the cave
In the moon light
Under the stars
The yeti and his lover have their ways with each other. The yeti kisses the young woman’s inner body
With pleasure
She screams.
Almost like a wolf
Then she sit up and gently kissed him
And opens up and he enters her
Now she is control but chose to be loving about it.
During their forbidden acts
Under the stars
In the moonlight.

the ominous track
on a white surface

a trace of
other possibilities
   in evolution?

or simply
   a sign of life
so totally different
   imagined
yet beyond imagination?

a footprint
   on a white surface

leading elsewhere

        * *

The young woman
Snuck out of
The Yeti’s cave
To meet some friend
But friends she did not meet
But a monk
Who wanted her to be his slave.
She ran off back to the cave
Only too see her attacker chase after her.  
When she came back to the cave
She screamed
As if murdered
Waking the yeti
But the evil monk
Attempted to rip her clothes off.
When her savage lover
Saw what was happening
He flew into a rage
Killing the monk.
Frightened the young woman
Hid in a corner.  
Sobbing.
He came to his flower
And tried to comfort her
With kisses
While embracing her
As if she were something priceless.
The young woman did not
Want to couple
But
When she knew she her unusual lover
She felt safe
In his embrace
While they shyly coupled.
She promised
Never to leave again.
And kissed her gentle yeti.  
His love unconditional.

A young woman

Looking for some comfort and love.

She approaches her lovers cave

A Yeti

Yes her lover is a yeti.

When walks in to the cave

They hug and kiss

Erotically

Soon the yeti has his way with the young woman

She loving every minute

They embrace and kiss until they sucomb to sleep.

Tomorrow they resurrect the loving

This continues until autumn.

Easily Tux
Laxity Use
Laxity Sue
Taxis Yule
Taxi Yules
Tau Sexily
Axe I *****
Yea Xi ****
Yea Xi Lust
Aye Xi ****
Aye Xi Lust
Ail Yes Tux
Sail Ye Tux
Ails Ye Tux
Italy Ex Us
Laity Ex Us
Taxi Lye Us
La Suety Xi
Talus Ye Xi
Lax Yeti Us
Lax Suety I
Lax Ye Suit
Lay Exit Us
Lay Suet Xi
Lay Tuxes I
Lay Ex Suit
Sat Yule Xi
Taus Lye Xi
Sax Yule Ti
Sax Yule It
Say Lie Tux
Say Lei Tux
Say Lute Xi
Say Exult I
At Yules Xi
At Yule Xis
At Yule Six
Tau Lyes Xi
Tau Lye Xis
Tau Lye Six
Tax Yules I
Tax Yule Is
Ax Lieu Sty
Ax Yules Ti
Ax Yules It
Ax Yule Tis
Ax Yule Its
Ax Yule Sit
Ax Lye Suit
Ya Isle Tux
Ya Lies Tux
Ya Leis Tux
Ya Lutes Xi
Ya Exults I
Ya Lute Xis
Ya Lute Six
Ya Exult Is
Ay Isle Tux
Ay Lies Tux
Ay Leis Tux
Ay Lutes Xi
Ay Exults I
Ay Lute Xis
Ay Lute Six
Ay Exult Is
A Lyes I Tux
A Lye Is Tux
A Ex I *****
A Ye Xi ****
A Ye Xi Lust
La Yes I Tux
La Yet Xi Us
La Ye Is Tux
Las Ye I Tux
Lax Yet I Us
Lax Ye Ti Us
Lax Ye It Us
Lay Ex Ti Us
Lay Ex It Us
As Lye I Tux
Say El I Tux
At Lye Xi Us
Tau Ex I Sly
Tax Lye I Us
Ax Lye Ti Us
Ax Lye It Us
Ax Ye I ****
Ax Ye I Lust
Ax Ye Lit Us
Ya El Is Tux
Ya Let Xi Us
Ya Ex I ****
Ya Ex I Lust
Ya Ex Lit Us
Ay El Is Tux
Ay Let Xi Us
Ay Ex I ****
Ay Ex I Lust
Ay Ex Lit Us

I saw a gigantic tree.
Uprooted and on its side.
The great roots forming a mane for the snarling ringed face on the stump.
But the fallen beast is taken, it’s husk a Home.
A vibrancy of weevils, ladybugs, frog hoppers, Cockchaffers that’s skittering, scattered like a smashed ant farm.


Around its base were prehistoric ferns,
Curled and scaled like sand lizards’ tales.
Reminiscing the demise of the tyrannosaur.
When dust clouds darkened the sun which warmed their claws.
The skittering skinks, slow worms and other small lizards, who need far less to survive, then feasted upon the monsters’ flesh and found a home in its bone structured palace.

As whale sinks,
Distorted into a globster of its former self,
It hits the sea bed hard in oil-Black darkness.
The hagfish burrow, starved for millennia.
Brutally tearing at the befallen banquet.
Mouths used to scraps choking on steak.
Getting their guts knitted as they squirm over each other to grasp some sashimi.
Dripping saliva as if we’re sweat in the ruckus.

Yeti crab pinch, as do isopods
But get only mucus insulting their jaws.
And they thought they helped to cut up the portions.

Soon all that is left is a skeleton.
Hanging in a museum for future generations to see.

Once again, dust gathers, from bombed out sand.
Erupting in the air as giants hit the ground.
We may soon again see darkness fall.
As the rayiys is skinned.

But no tears are shed.
We all cheer none the less.

I am a yeti
I am the mosquito king
I am a continent
I am a too hot hot tub
I am Batman
I am a tick on a deer
I am the fourth of July
I am short term memory loss
I am a corpse
I am nightmare hot dogs
I am a bad dream
I am a billion kajillion bucks
I am Big Country
I am parachute pants
I am hatred
I am everyone else
But myself.
I am the mountains and trees,
a growl of the wind even.
Where are they, where is everyone?
I'm right here.

Yeti Rocks

   I’ve always felt a connection but it’s
Something I could never put my finger on
It’s like seeing a clear vision and in
Just a moment the vision is gone

It could be something very real or at
Least real to you with every sensation
Or it could be something from stories
And just a figment of your imagination

But I’m sure of it as clearly as night and
Day never being someone who lies
Less than thirty yards away from me
I swear I saw it with my own two eyes

In the early morning misty fog
On a dock on the edge of a lake
I saw a Yeti with sunglasses and a
Guitar and red sneakers no fake

He was jamming and having a blast
I noticed he wasn’t wearing socks
And the connection finally came to me
The day I discovered that Yeti Rocks

Written By:Charles Kean
02/03/2024

Across from the border of Eden
On a stone where I sat down
This led to me to ponder
From afar I saw your beauty
First thing that came to my mind
What does your lips taste like
Is it what fell from the skies,
A honey nectar from the garden of gods?
Beyond that invisible line where you stand beyond
Forbidden to steal across that line
Oh thunder, lighting, sleet, and crashing waves
There's something Gods would never let me have
I gotta brush aside all the obstacles
You're within my reach, but there's just no way
When I'm down on hard luck, there's a way of getting off the ground
All you know is what I want, and I want to  grab your hand
Steal you when nobody's watching, it's what my heart desires
It's That I want to go around and around the world with you, only you...
Run away from the troubles that's abrewin'
Reach the edge of the world
Travel the rough seas and you'd know
Rappelling the cliffs of the Andes
Drink hot chocolate with the yeti
Clash with the monsters that lurk from the darkness
Just imagine, just imagine
What the world would turn out if you ran away with me
There's nobody else like you, only you I cannot deny
Grab the fleeced sandals along the way
Use the wings to fly away
Let the gods throw their fury at me
I've got the armor to deflect it all
Only to have that moment with you
To be frozen in stone with you in a everlasting kiss


~Steven~

Poppy leaf the Yeti
To her favourite place
So they could couple in peace
Other than the cave.
And away from other humans
There Vajramrita
And Poppy
Admired the Buddhist art
As they make love
The yeti first had his why with Poppy
While they couple.
He stroked and pets her womanhood
Wig his skilled tounge
Soon her flower blossoms
She kisses his flesh
Gently and slowly.
The lovers kiss
Their tounges meet and dance
As the yeti and the young woman kiss.

A razor is my nemesis, because the blades do not behave
Gouging cuts into my skin, that is the path they pave
But it is unavoidable, I have become a bathroom slave
To rid myself of excess hair, from a shave that I don't crave

Ever since the birth of man, it goes back many years
A growth around your lip and chin, extending to your ears
It may go down particularly well, among the bents and queers !
I'd rather have a smoother face, to avoid Ducky's and Dears

Why do men want ****** hair, why do they want a beard
Bits of stubble sticking out, a design that's rough and weird
A Goatee isn't very good, it's cattle that's not reared
You wouldn't get tickled or scratched, if beards had not appeared

Okay some guys might look alright, when they are neat and trim
Scruffy ones they just look bad, and some are rather grim
I don't want hairs growing on my legs, or any other limb
Nice smooth skin is my preference, and it's not a passing whim

There is just one problem, something I would love to ditch
Hair removal is a pain, and it's an evolution glitch
When the morning comes along, I have that same old itch
Having to shave is immanent, and a *******

How many ****** shaves, does a man have to endure
Eventually your skin goes dry, from this old daily chore
You get cut far too often, I don't want it anymore
Razor blades no longer work, and that's a shaving flaw

Girls complain about their periods, it must be so frustrating
With all that blood just seeping out, when you are menstruating
You wouldn't like it daily, there is a period of waiting
It only happens once a month, so it's not as irritating

I'd rather shave twelve times a year, without anymore hair traces
No cuts and grazes for a month, in many different places
Unscrupulous razor companies, would have no more hairs and graces
Hairy smiles would be wiped off, from their stupid corporate faces

A close shave does not exist, I think it's a fare bet
That manufactures cut your throat, with electric dry and wet
All the claims of the best, that a man can get
Sharp shavers are a fabrication, and that includes Gillette

The cheaper brands are just as bad, shops own brand or BIC
You may as well tape a knife, to a piece of stick
Are potato peelers any sharper, would they be a valid pick
Would chipped skin be as bad, or just get on your wick

One shave is not sufficient, you have to do it twice
There's always bits left behind, which isn't very nice
I would've tried the No No, an expensive hair device
Razor blades and shavers, have such a high tagged price

It makes me cross and angry, because there is no reward
When buying beauty products, which they say you can afford
Why cant you have a body switch, or a desired level cord
So you can turn of your hair, and sod Wilkinson Sword

Excess hair I do not want, except for on my head
Is stress the cause of going thin, when it begins to shed
Would it not be better, coming of your face instead
Shaving would then be reduced, and not something to dread

Many men go through the curse, of losing it on top
The older that you become, your head hairs for the chop
A full crown is all I want, why take away my mop
I didn't want a bad harvest, by losing half my crop

The only place I wanted it, I've lost my style and flair
Why does a bald patch appear, why does your bonce go bare
Is it my comeuppance, with the creation of a glare
All I want from follicles, is my head full of hair

If you want to have a beard, then that is fare enough
Don't be mistaken for a *****, by looking like a scruff
I don't want a hairy face, or stubble that is rough
Or a weird beard with scraggy parts, or any yuk *** fluff

Some men just let beards grow, and maybe that's just crazy
It's not as though they look sweet, or as pretty as a daisy
Personal hygiene may not count, if they are always lazy
To me it isn't fashionable, it makes you look old and hazy

Who wants to be a yeti, but perhaps it is too late
And wild men roaming in the woods, is evolutions own cruel fate
No matter how much I shave, it's the scratchy bits I hate
Wasted shaves when hair returns, why does it lay in wait

How much has man evolved, how much as man progressed
Personally I think the state of hair, has radically regressed
It's based on my own experience, so perhaps I am obsessed ?
Who wants a hairy monkey, when your naked and undressed ?

There is a smooth advantage, when you are misbehaving
A kiss feels much more sensual, without the crazy paving
This is all that drives me, although it is enslaving
Even with the nice things, I'm not craving for a shaving

The Searching Yeti and UFO/
Stocked home love of youth and foe/
mysteries of deep, songs that bellow/
I'm waving wheat surrounding crop circle/
and I Am The Bed with Fibonacci flower
holding  on to summer showers


The hot oil tuned in chopped green thyme/
wrinkled strips sandy brown sugared lines/
tossed on foul fried, lemon and vinegar /
long or short  grain I'll be the same integer/
I Am The Bed of rice soaked in what you savor

The breath of air/
Vibration! Everywhere?
Pitter Patter Crescendo Flare...
Ready for rivers of precipitation /
before Pen and Paper dissemination /
I Am The Bed dried wide open
Streaming to the notion ocean.

When it was day
Your were a wise Lama
Teaching the youngsters
The ways of Buddha.


When it was night
Your were a gentle
But still a beast.
As you made love to me.

The Yeti refusing to leave his
Love slave alone
Went with the her to the wildflowers
As she picks the flowers.
He taps his lover on the shoulder.
And kisses her gently
She falls down
Not out of fear but because of desire was so intense.
She take ms him by his furry face
And they shyly couple and kiss.
Was it the mountain air
Or
Because her skilled lover
She was in esctasy.
She kisses the Yeti and their tounges met in an ******
And emotional dance.

The yeti woke
Only to find a fair well letter
In stead of
His beloved flower
He read it
It said that her
Love was geshi
And that she will be living with him.
After crying heavily
The yeti went to the monastery
Where his flower now lived
Peeking in the window
He could see
Who was his flower
Becoming someone else’s.
He couldn’t bear to see
The two youngsters
Kiss, talk
And make love.
He disappeared
Far away from his “flower”
Who broke his heart.
The next day
He leaves a fair well note
Of his own
Wondering if she will read it.