Journal

Woke early …morn was trope of birds floating gently in the air. Greedily devoured mom’s sweet tea. Smoked a lot of fags. Clouds lay in mystic colors …orange, purple and violet. A butterfly perched on my hand; it was a saint bringing me good tidings. My significant other in Cochin gave me a reply that she delivered a baby boy. How I long to make sweet love to her. With vermilion sprinkled on her forehead she looks very beautiful. That Filipino cunt that I had an affair with is really a bother. She is become an old hag. The sun became a shining ball of light. How I long to lead a retired life devoted to writing. I long to bring my significant other from Ghana and I long to make love to her. Poems bloomed like flowers. I have been writing for years and how I long for fame and recognition. Is my writing so really bad? Yes, my poems have won some good reviews and I am so happy about it. I am running short of money and I desperately need a good paying job. In my mother’s school I am paid a pittance. I really hate my mother the old hag. She wears a gold necklace and I long to wrest it from her. Yes, I also hate my conniving wife. She has taken me to asylum many times. Cops are a real fuck! A fucking astrologer wrote imprisonment for me …luckily nothing of that sort happened to me. Astrologers are fucked up assholes. I admire the beauty in simple things of life. I need to win a windfall and buy a house in the hills in Munnar and live with the rest of my life with significant other. My significant other is Grace and she is so charming and beautiful. Am I progressing in the art of writing? I really don’t know! I must be. I am so fucking fond of writing. Time bring a syllable of thought. Music what passions you bring to the soul. Charm is an enigma …a mystic solitude and passion is her sister. My soul is a brothel of pollution. Luck you are a tame brother. The sky lay as mystic white feathers. Bards of poems flew in the sky. A poem rode a motorcycle. Summer is come and I am waiting for the monsoon. I am thinking of the houseboats lying in the tranquil backwaters of Kerala. I long to spend a night in erotic ecstasy in them with my significant other. Time has become an erotic stream of thought. Christianity is an Armageddonizing religion. Christ you are the biggest egotist. Religion is a stinking chalice. Time, free from the pain of lacking money. I am a swine frolicking in the sea of thought. Life is a surrealistic painting. The artist of life is the body. I am shitting a body of thought. I want to enjoy passions to the brim. I want every day to be a financially lucky one. Windfoliate my petals with joy. I am a Cervantes of Postmodern Fiction. Time relieve the cramps of bad luck. Life feed me with luck. Life is an extreme and there is no middle way as Buddha said. Nietzsche, I owe you poems of roses. When will Time heal the wound of my body? Nirvana I wing you a harp. Poems of joy wake my body up. Sing a joyful song to nature. Melancholy you are a trembling chain. I need a well paid joy. Christianity tyrannizes the soul. Passions run into a river that’s deep. I long to be gratified in sex. Sex is a pain that hurts. My lovers are far away: what to do? Pain, you are a bleeding anathema. I want to surgicalize my wounds. I want to sensationalize my feelings. Brothel is the dope of the mind. Passion you have to sterilize the body. Orgasm is an epic novel of the mind. How to slutify my mind? I am creative, poetic and Epicurean. I have been an oppressed child. Time has to heal my wounds. God arranged a marriage that was fucked up. I need to go to Ghana to see my significant other. I want to make love to her. Passion, you wing of hope. Time is a serial killer. Luck when can I expect your good tidings? I am not willing to deny my life and take up the cross and follow Jesus. Can a virgin conceive? Bah! Baloney! All religions are prostitutes conniving innocent souls. I am going to Nirvanize my religion. Devil does not dance to my tunes. I am confused about my worldviews. I have worshipped the Devil but I have found that’s no use. The Devil is a fucked up stinker. Why can’t God be permissive about Sin? I have wasted 48 years of my life. That Filipino cunt is a fucked up rat. Woe, I give you a big fuck. My wife is fucking cunt. Muhammad brothelized religion. I don’t canonize saints but I canonize my dick. Time, don’t treat me like a dead duck. I am generous and liberal with money. God you are a Scrooge of desire. I have to strangle my wife and mother. Oh God I would love to kill them. They are my worst enemies. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Patience I can’t wait to torch you. Windfall, you owe me a big applause. Time, free the wings of my body. Refuge, you are a whore of thought. I have been dreaming about a windfall but I have not been lucky in getting one. Why the fuck is that? The All Seeing Eye the Unfinished Pyramid, you can go to hell. Masons babble hypocrisy. Luck is a demon that has not been kind to me. I am a fucked up brothel and a stinking asylum. I curse the day of my birth. I am not speaking vain words. Heaven and eternity don’t mean anything to me. They are just a fart. Woo time to win me a windfall.

Tropes

Windfalls bring me an elephant trunk of a bonanza. Lottery you are a fairy Godmother’s magic wand. I drank her wine lips. Metaphors floated in the sky. Money you are a God to spend. Her body is an erotic trope. I have to live a life of luck. Time is the servant of opportunity. My loin is a beastly passion. Luck I have charmed you into a smile. Vulva, you are a hotbed of passion. Sterile words are a poison for the soul. I flowed her into a river of ecstasy. When it comes to gambling I am a devil. Ecstasy you are poem to make love with. The fruit of Adultery is sweet. I drank her honey lips. Sweet is the fruit of fornication. Passion you are a river of joy. Satan is a lottery of luck. Palestine you are a hot volcano. Rain whispered the song of the heart. My significant other is a passionate butterfly. She is as beautiful as a peacock. Eve is a tempted serpent. Money is the God of the earth. I disseminated the poetry of the sperm. Arranged marriages are a stale fish. I am living in isle of angst. I bartered God for money. Sin is a serpent of joy. Joy you are an ecstasy to cherish. Life, a majestic wall. Windfalls are the wind of luck. I planted a seed in her womb. Money is a pussy to be licked. Money is the Phallus of Shiva. Luck yields me a tree of money. Shakespeare dramatized words and made the theatre of the world. My feelings run into passionate weather. Karma you are a God of shit. I licked her to ecstasy. Words affirmed well wish my soul. Body is a fleshy ecstasy. Time is a river of hope. I am a wounded childhood. Liberty what crimes are committed in thy name? Money is the swine that is good to eat. I am a wound that is scorching. Mary is an eclectic poem. Search my heart for passion. Nirvana you are a pillar of orgasmic ecstasy. Sin, your roots are in hell. Wine, money and women, you are poetries being sung. 666, I have made you into a garland of luck. Paris is the brothel of the mind and Philippines is the brothel of the body. Heaven is a virtue of self defeating morality. Rebellion you are joyful Satan. I have killed virtues and morality. I am a slave of lust. The past is awakening, the present passion and the future of ecstasy. Virtue you are a pillar of God and I stamp you down with sodomy. My pen is a whore giving pleasure. Seasons are a fruit growing ripe. Temptation you are a seed of fornication. All life is to be a living ecstasy. Her womb gestated with poetry. I am a seer of words. Bloody Mary is a cocktail gone crazy. My dreams are a dark world of life. Chance I obliterate you with luck. I am eagerly waiting for sunny days. Money is a miracle of getting a windfall. Blessed are the ecstatic for they shall obtain ecstasy. Winter I am burying you in a grave. Grace, you are woman offering me her body. My eyes are the windows of lust. Epiphany you are a novel book. Wings are dancing in the air. I meditate money and windfalls. Memory sooths a dream. I have killed chance and I have birthed luck. Time you are a halo of God. Holy Spirit is a good bottle whiskey. Mary you are a fish good to eat. Words are an opera of sperm. Capitalism is sinful cash. Marxism is a revolution that died. I call life to celebrate the joy of existence. Cash you are the economy of wealth. Cash, striptease your clothes. Cash is the sin of ecstasy. Poems wake up the dead. Poems, you lyric the soul. Wealth make me no beggar. Sin is the soul of ecstasy. Wine, women and money you are erotic poems. I am a fleshy spirit. Carnality is an Epicurean metaphor. God is a virtue of heaven and sin an erotic hell. Lottery, I have ordained you to live as cash in my purse. Angst burden me no more with chains. Money you earth’s God. Wretched idol why do want to be God? God cures my luck with money. Windfall is a lucky poem. Shitting is an anal Oedipus. Sisyphus was condemned by Gods and Anand is proclaimed to be the joy of existence by Gods. Sin is an altar to delight. Novel poem, you woken up my phallus. Ambiguity is the seed of literature. Passion, you are an ode of joy. I threw off my clothes of unhappiness. The hammer and the sickle, you are a God that died. Sartre, I owe you a pound of existence. The soul bleeds the blood of ecstasy. Train your thoughts to breed catharsis and ecstasy. Today has been blessed by luck. Ghana is an opera to be celebrated with my significant other. My significant other is a beautiful poem. Windfalls you are my lucky friend.