Being shown the halted frenzy of stamps of copper coils,
the broken and inter-belated, witch-crafting and unharnessed,
durable hatred of a man other than my own self, from hither clear on, 

and mostly past, tither for a provocative dime

stolen from God and all crime.
Past option, being broken to crushed screeching defeat, defines, as force beyond,

considerable relent, vented to me, a full thirty years before any option was to be offered from the very tongues of disguise, re-ordinance.

All feature past prime, except a land down under,

promised as a courted and defined nothing, short of determined hostility,

course in prescribed absence of consent.

He told me, with passport in hand,

be everything you want, right now, and 'hand the keys to me'.

Hissing women of dusk 'til dawn, crawled and mentioned,

with instantly exhaustive assault, without ever an attempt, interest,

or pliability, and one woman told me to know wherever I went,

from an historical perspective my curtains were to remain closed.

The deficit of reason was excellent for your deaf roar and Christening of luxury.

I declare you smitten with smarts and curtail your wanting to know more that you have already known.  Why rise with such rank, cutting off your cross?

Danced the splintered glass, she bounced and pronounced each crashing plate.

Now for me, I have nothing, she pined.

With silly grins for explicit sincerity, announced so frequent, she would not end until everybody hates you as much as I do.  Assailed life long by the city girl, cheerie as the day is long, the vice of her promise, over the air wave, the box of glass, promised she would when her hair was fully grayed.  The announcer of deceit did forecast a rose red sky.  Shh, if the twenty gone, heralds wind, Shush, and shush again.  I have written each and every one.  I will. I intend to. She Other, not She First, not She Second and not She Third.  Her long, marvelous tresses, dreaded; time spent waiting for something to happen that just would if you could, was graying, and with nothing but time on her hand, Maya knew flying fast meant taking it first, having her head shaved, bald.  Her humiliation was not yet complete.  Needing consoled she requested we screw; frank and sloppy.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  Her breasts were wonderful and large.  I loved their presence.  The lemon verbena was happiness when she opened the envelope.  My mothers age, the warmth of my gratitude fell farther than before, but a later session was precluded for quick seconds.  When you cannot stand, where do you fall.

My broken hide, the city girl confessed feeling this her best redeemer.  I would not have had to, had she not carried the situation on for decades.  Let it go says the sayer.  In 1982 she was screamed at her.  In 1990 she confronted.  In 1998 she spoke for months proving she was in 1999 and beyond.  2016.  2002 wants a bite. 2006 she lies repeatedly in public.  2007, 2008, 2009, dines on children.  Announces from six to thirteen, his broken hide could not possibly.  Same time same station.  2013.  Give him some friendly sticks.  We promise it is fine.  We all know you will make it.  From within her own purse, cocaine and cannabis.  However, the knuckle head loves a challenge.  It does not matter. Quiet, Shh.
I was told when I was four.  Instead of education and direction, the "away from the rat race" rat ran on the hamster wheel.  If you cannot figure out what happened in all that time then don't say anything.  I was shown for months.  You showed me video.  You threatened me.  You handed over things to people who never handed things over to me.  You showed me that no one would ever give the gifts you gave to give me and then ordered me to not only meet them but because of the descriptions of two years, six, then nine, thirteen and then fine sand could not describe my prefect feelings in numerical notation.  Do not rise.  Do not shine.  You were fine.  We saw.  We also told you we were going to edit all video in 2006.  That is what makes it fine.  Because we say so.  Time from mountain to dust.  You were explicit.  You threatened to kill me so many times telling me I could not.  Not even stay.  Not even run.  Not even close my eyes.  Not even sigh.  Not even question.  I was tossed because the linear voice had seen several years of my future, unknowing and unbelieving left me sitting because she thought I was going to be able to give her my luggage.  Yet owned, yet possessed.  A gift received from the idea that it had already happened.

Conversations with God he said was only information

 Earth is but a grain of sand stuck in my nail bed and yet it's oceans marvel. Giraffes were in fact accidents. While my attention was elsewhere, they slipped through a low latitude vortex. There could not have been more than a dozen but sometimes intelligence outweighs numbers, and so they endure. While on vacation extended to a more godly height I was blessed to see a creature every bit the size of the earth juxtaposed to the size of man with oceans of blood in every heartbeat-a bit like brontosaurus but with shorter tails. Sitting twice on the papal throne I explained to them reincarnation were a fact, yet to this day it's validity is not mumbled even when excessive wine is imbibed at any cathedral.

How to imagine a mountain range on a planet, every bit as majestic as the Rockie Mountains, with a planetary circumference larger than this entire solar system, from Mercury to Uranus and Pluto. Gravitationally no earthling could stand, the pull of the planet would cream their bones; they would not be a bump.

As a point of function and education, God and his kind decide to be smaller. Earth could by measure be the size of an inflatable beach ball, not a grain of sand. His sister would wiggle his braids to get his attention.

He shared one time that evolution certainly does happen. It takes time but can also proliferate in just a couple generations. He said his people evolved. Their progenitor was a creature he described as akin to a large eared rat with lynx like hair tufts from it's ears.

People have always been here. From day one to the present. Hundreds of generations have existed not wondering of yesterday but only tomorrow. Life was observed and interceded. If advancements were recognized, a gift of technology was given. The story of a great end would be gifted and in time a great end would be had. Days would be spent clearing fence and towers so no suggestion would there be of a before. Many hours were spent clearing the affects of man; it's vehicles and roads, it's factories and plants. Most civilizations had no waste. A manufacturer may have produced a confection of caramel nuts and chocolate but you went to the confectioners and bought what you wanted for the week which would be wrapped in wax paper. The bars arrived separated from one another with a paper product like cardboard and wax paper. Trash in fact has been illegal in most societies.  If you wanted something you went to the market and stood in line at a counter instead of wandering aisles. For durable goods you had it made by a craftsman or smith. And most commonly, there were no infants, no children, no teenager. Adults were delivered at the edge of town, fully grown. They were grown by demons and for no reason other than that was what they were for. Evil was not induced nor integral. Women and men were kept separate. Romances like those told by William Shakespeare were not had nor were they made up for a society to believe in by people of the future placing concepts in the minds of gentlefolk because of their belief in history needing to lead to one outcome, them. The egotistical notion that you must one day exist, so your life could be lived was not considered. In fact if someone felt their life was too much to bear a simple chant was said and a timeline would splinter off and life from a determined point would be relived with prayed for stipulations, predominantly that certain events not occur. Life was not to be a burden and was intended to be more than tolerated. Two to three thousand years more of human civilization is possible but for the right god to help us we need to show him we're ready to receive his help by taking down our nuclear power plants. He can then clear the earth of the global contamination of nuclear radiation. There is also a trinary planetary system between Mars and Jupiter which could help us but they require the same thing. They were gifted this technology by the god of gods because millions of years ago they were scientific and were studying nuclear sciences and realized it was potentially too dangerous to learn anymore about.

We have small turbines efficient enough to supply sufficient energy by routing small rivulets and directing them to have sufficient lateral drop and funneling to jet the water to spin the cup sized turbines to supply sufficient electric power to all populations.

God of Christianity said to me he was heartbroken after cleaning up an earth which was ravaged by nuclear war when they had no such technology. He said to me he repaired the earth 150,000 times. He then turned his back on the earth. When he checked again there were populations of large dinosaurs. He was punished by his God for allowing so much evolution to happen. 

He told me he is no longer omnipotent. This was a punishment. He does not have the ability to hear prayers anymore, but that his son Jesus does. Jesus added, to hear prayers the prayer must be ended with, "...in Jesus' name, amen". Jesus said to me, he asked his God and was taught how to hear prayers. He said learning to hear prayers was a difficult thing to learn to do.

Shaken

it burnt my skin with my acknowledged inconsideration of my own skin
it helped becoming aware of things like that.
tender song commercial, I sit mite and flea infested
I was told 'so what' later on because the eye on the fly
reminded and commented with insidious labels that they owned the sugar factory
and that's the kinda fly I am.
Shaken but don't stir,
Stirring blends the oceans,
shaken, not stirred
it is just what runs through your hands.

Cope

Blessed are those who never seek sex.  Blessed are those,

Blessed, blessed and tortured.

The poor things need to know,  the result and purpose

Of everything is to be anything

Except neutered.

The very purpose of nerves

Is to sense.

The calcium-sodium channel

Adapted within the nerves of every being

As teased and toiled over by God

Send the ions tossing their charges

Back and forth.

Licking the membrane separating them enough

For energy to flow.

Zippers clicking along audibly

The ear maladaptive to hear.

Curtains never close enough

However for the eye, which

Grows as big as the unbound mind allows.

A limitless mind has provided today

As a flourishing option to be unguided.

Allow each and every river and stream to it, to run boundlessly

And your gulfs will widen first

Slap your thighs and scream enough

Eventually it will be so easy to do

it will be hard to stop.

Don’t add your tears.

Don’t give up your precious salt.

The oceans don’t care.

Sit and smell, feel and absorb the enormity of the oceans

Hear it, for three hours a day, daily for 6 months.

But remember to not lick your lips

The salt buffet and crystallize on your skin

The taste of every lover you never had.

Blessed, blessed, and tortured.

Crunchy

Destiny in the eye of the mid-minded mighty
breaks down all option for those who
are guided by the hand of God and the heart
of Jesus.
Slowly, the minds of the slow, grab the hands
of each other and modulated their own
cervix, groin and then claw.
The noise of the attenuated, crave
their own attention, and dine on their own skin.
With the fingertips of each attenuated reaching maximum
loss at the moment they began to want their
own noise.
Tattling seemed the only option.
The more tattling happened, the more they realized they
enjoyed being buttered up.
The ten years of eight hours a day
rehearsal, she unloaded on the buttered with
high viscosity butter, slipperier that silicon lube.
The grotesque eyeball of the attenuated decided
their noise was the only noise necessary with
promises unloaded.
Vice drips blood.
God allowed us vice and crime, to advise our ears
and the twine between them, to understand
your eyes were not there.

If undisturbed the ridges might cut

Flutter by chick-a-dee flutter by, you have become a nuisance.  My repetitive grogery of forced aptitude spoke of crushing tides of morbidity for dined upon chick-a-dee's and french fried honey corn.  The fright of it is that it was just in front of your eyes.  Your mounting tension as I rose to hysteria seems goofy, for all of the rife life of feeding and fucking and multiple drops of worth that every artist told me for decades to simply not be, because you are too confused to be worth any effort, but try.  Every effort, thwarting the effort was ordered to not occur.  Allow the yeast to activate.  The gassing and headbanging of each part, which each artist, one another said no thank you to for two full decades and fully unabated finished me off with me finishing me off.  I sliced at every baby handed to me by the biggest problem who was too eager to get to where she went, poorly understanding no. A problem for me is normal dawn, crashing and breaking dawn and decades of hated that they advised, when I lightened up would be the point of always too late.  I was speeding through the nothing of always just don't, don't point the toe in that direction unless you expect it.  We unforked the multiple tines of daily rushing residual yesterday coursing through your day the morning after.  Frightening.  The point of pointing a toe is the noticed toe, pointing is how I was forced to behave, until being misunderstood became the point of making me point a toe.  The sour note of the gorged upon needling, picking and pointing at nothing more than don't, because you won't like the results. If you don't I will not make the difference you said you needed, but then were too happy to have won one followed by dozens of zeros in the twenty first year anniversary of divorce from alternative.  Knowing me for the ear you told me not to lean on, disturbed decisions you felt once encrusted with the notion of contemporaneous selfishness.  My disturbance, not yours.  For the point of the people and not the privilege of being privileged.

The Brat sputtered down the road
The fruit was being "chilled" by being in the trunk
It was ten below.
Not a single consideration of what one would need
What would one of those need
I don't really know to the point I should grasp
what one of those does.
I did not meet one ever
If you didn't, you can't
That's both my point and that does not matter.
I cannot begin to consider what your experience
in your clandestine supposition could be with my
concordance with the saturation of queer-ducks
I ran from strangers like one of the stray cats until sitting in the cold
was my rats instinct. Chewing on the pipes and fraying the cords in search of
nesting material.  Rhyme or reason
Scant. Why. Voice over voice makes the situation determined
We will not remember it that way.

Had you cared about me you would have come to me to tell me you were hurting.  The most insufferable expression of how am I suppose to empathize unless you are pathetic enough to make me feel empathy.
Nice, nice advice always takes me into consideration, aren't you me too?
Wondering no longer makes sense.
Within four minutes you can find and read the answer to your question.
If you have pondered, stop it.
Within four minutes you can have searched out your wildest fantasy and inseminated your keyboard.
Have you even had someone just put it in when you weren't even waiting, asking or expecting it.  I told him that was frank.
He said it hurt really bad.  I told him that was being earnest.

You should have thought about that ahead of time when a life time worth of people told you they did not want to know you.

I did not think that I should put it under considering, the life time of people weren't located anywhere I ever intended to be.  They were doing things I did not think I would do.  I did not fear the things they feared or expected the things they anticipated.  Like the man said, have you ever stopped to consider, Chad, if you actually have any say in anything you have ever done or experienced in your life?

I pulled up and got out.  I would send someone out to get the stuff outta the car.
Getting out of low cars is hard.

Aforementioned

I have been told by numerous Congress
"We would rather you be a terrorist..."
Kill me often enough and I will have died many deaths.
Kiss me and you'll be assured to forget.
The grosses amount was just a knuckle over 20 G's
Beans and beans and beans and beans.
Beans and bean and you showed me 1,000, 5-minute, moments of
frustration, and said wander your way through it
we showed you a full twenty years of life and you did nothing
do nothing, we want nothing, we prefer nothing
the advice of life is once you have been told you are dead in
one followed by twenty-seven zeros, one octillion infant death
poisoned, drowned, eaten, shot, stabbed, dropped, thrown, and sliced.
The coin of the land of the damning of the boy that agreed
that damned, sojourner.
With a total flat, wow, the annunciation of wow could have never been without
less tenor and lack of spring to not bounce
gravity held the word and they all held hands and prayed.
Not a bit of friction
a notion of residual
of minor key of cue-
pause.
They then noticed with so much more than side-ways glance, they had not gathered within their own minds
a single utterance near the gravy of a prayer.
spoiled with the reasons of so many that the bending of ears
made us want our canyons back, that provided the value of our own whispers which pay attention to us.

T, H, and E

A, B, C, D, E, F, G, The Whole Alphabet yes indeed.  Let's remember G was where we left off. H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, and P. Not now, But we all know P'ing is the best.  Q, R, and S, T, U, V, W, R, Shite, W, um...W, ...Just a minute.  No, way, no.  L, M, N, O, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z.  Only numeric nuance deliberate.  L told A who knew also because B, C, and D heard from P.  P had known since F, but with difference from what E knew factually from the marvelous exaggerations of C and D, said P.  F really had never been all that clear however T, U, V, E, F, and G were verified witness to X, Y, and Z.  T, U, V, E, F, and G then felt little necessity to consider that there would be only 6 of 26. Considering they figured with at least some of them they mostly could.

Syla Styrafoam bumped her way along numb of hurt having taken on a very undignified way of floating amongst us with prolifically provided possessions which burdened and ached with thunderous pain. Inflicted with such vulgarity that significant audience discuss allowance of no thorough detail. Permitted, Larry Dark was so furiously sickened that upon being lead to believe that her father was other than The Mark of Pain more significant than the illegal black stamp. The specific positioning was designed to be the greatest covered surface of a solid decimal if that were as significant as we could've allowed this amount of hurt, pity, angst, mutilation and suffering against one person that should durably be acknowledged as too painful.

God does not prognosticate. The threshold of knowing when enough was more than satisfactory, was mercilessly breached. Going through duration of purely expressed expletive laden lives has given me a cockeyed view of the gander that you set before me twenty-some-odd. Zero, ninety, eighty, and you wished seventy, but it was not in the operatically perceived minds of such cosmically dubious characters of lustrous amount of divinity candy which to me is a lot of fluff. Nuts. With or without. Did you know that ignorance is the most devastating factor anybody could be presented with in life. Though knowing too much is far more painful than the metastatic myriad diseases that are contagions and repercussions of the untended life. A spanning wing provides you with effort that pulls your wing wider. The intent for everyone where ever you are is to have had your wings pulled by grace. Guiding one another through life is always the responsibility but not the intention of goodness.





----halt and scream, before realizing while I meant prognosticate, I used "divine", thinking of well witching or water divining when I wrote the first version and used "divine".  

Every morning

Crackers, hardtack, flour and water

The natural yeasts in the air

Wooden boxes,

Nails dusted over

Packed tight, twelve gross per

So far removed from hedonism

that aspirations

are only ever daydreams.

I wake in the morning

Lifting the bell to access the

fresh buttercream.

The mechanical beating

separating fat from protein;

cured meats.

Crackers, hardtack, flour and water.

Polyester

Dear polyester, I just wanted to say how weird it is that the sky is the limit.  I am one hundred and five and you literally are the dust in my eyes.  You are such a daily component of life that your rubbing to wear degradation has now been such a persistent infiltrator of human biology that you are a component of every breath.  Your advancements to modern medicine have inspired such dyslexia, deformity and wrinkle free face, that we love you.  We can't live without you.  We can't live without you even if we tried.  We feed you to our food animals on purpose.  Your efficacy is immeasurable, you are designed by a manufacturer to be biologically toxic.  Love.  Your greatest influences are yet to be achieved.  I herald the day when your omnipresence in the human biology comes to fruition and becomes necessary like minerals.  We will be your polyester babies, enduring, within our very being, our own prophylactic eternal existence.  We won't decay, we will endure, mounding upon ourselves, slipping around one another in our polyester bodies; our cosmic undoing.

Efforts

Efforts plus.
Secret prayers skirt the dream
and direct anew a kindred unborn, because light
is measurable immensely.
Fragments of splattered grease only mean
that the penetration was sloppily attempted.
You're a broken bicycle chain
to a mechanically inclined hippie
with no tools.
Even if I were attempting to be
Earth-friendly
I'd be grit to your cogs.
Fore the forlorned twere
the utmost mostest of the desperate desperates.
A struggles fight just might bite
a hole in the clouds,
tearing a hole in the schismatic idea of Jesus.
Why is your orgasmic euphoria a euphemism
for tightly tubed toothpaste
that I expectedly and only desire
to expectorate down a drain
because a swirling drain is the specific depiction
that allows you to specifically draw my efforts from me.
With my cryingly or recidivist odious crippled humor
dill and cucumbers
do not make a pickle.

Chad Linder

02/04/2015 10pm

Dust

It is, was, were and will always be a filthy place.

Please don't... try.

Pump me full of drugs and

things to remove my lucidity.

beat on me, use me and remove my facade

crumbled and crumpled on the ground

I cry so long that six feet tempts me.

And then I damn you to Hell for the hell you placed me in,

I curse you and you strike me and drug me and remove

my lucidity

Cast-offs, hand-me-downs, waters-under-the-bridge

bitter Spirit, the spirits burn... as one by one they go down.

Churning, they are burning.

My piece is my peace and your final resting place.

Indignant, you may know too much, but is...

there such thing.

I'm so old now, so lesser, a lesser being, beginning to reach towards my end.

No one remembers, except the dust in my filthy place

however, it has promised not to tell.

Written 11 pm -ish December 31, 2014.
Written by Chad Linder
In order for four-fourths of everything.

Bi-bi double trouble

bi-closeted they said so, to do it

I drink to touch you... and him

I drink to touch him... and you

I suck because I suck, you suck,

I suck him... I, I fuck you, I don't make love to you

I'm gay, I'm not, with a murder looming I thought

that I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not into you

and you are not into what I am because

you rest comfortable in bigotry and pomp

and all of pomp's circumstance.

Bump after bump, clearly you are not my drug of choice

your voice is ire and stills my choice.

Your noise is boys and oh dear gaud yes sir!

Yank, your doodle... dandy, because-I-am-a-dandy-

and-Mandy u-r-a c.r.i.m.i.n.a.l.

It is all so surreal for an appeal.

For your judgement.

Angst, ire and grime it is now time to be in...

double trouble

Inspiration and muse

I opened you up to a treasure that

in immediacy was incomprehensible

but when you opened yourself up to

your reality you made my gift

seem sand grain, mustard seed, infantile.

Be a magic that can sustain those you reach to

bathe in a light multitudinal and monumental.

Be genuine and magnanimous except with those

who will use your light or attempt to dally with your

spiritual elevation.

Be forever and transient

Light, love and us

for I'll be there on a sunny day and

in the light of a street lamp.

Please dream of me, because I do dream of you.

Fun in the Sun

I went flying through space

Tired of my terrestrial pace

Past the planets

Towards the sun

Time for a little fun

Around the fiery star I flew

Amazed by the magnitude

I felt renewed

Solar flares swirling ‘round head

How ‘bout a quick dip

Before I head to bed

I fly straight in for a boiling splash down

I take a big mouthful of the boiling

Plasma and spit it out towards space

My solar flare splattered back on my face

I swim down a few meters and

Am pushed back up by the boiling turbulence

My splashing arms at the surface

Have not made the slightest disturbance

To this mighty beast

I fly up from the surface of the sun

Done with my fun

I grow colder flying through space

Back to my terrestrial place

And a slower earth bound pace

Reluctant

I have the answers

The walls have heard me proselytizing

Many times

I bite the drywall to encourage a reply

Many times

Chalky dust in my mouth and mind ‘tis mesmerizing

Many times

The discontinued interest will belie the feigned insistence

Will you listen now so you can at least claim

That you were not listening then;

A conversation where you can chatter

To avoid a nervous silence.

I am white head to toe.

Vapor

Side saddle I ride you and I have not moved an inch.

Side saddle I ride you atop your heaving back.

I want a whimper but I get a sigh.

I am ghost and fantasy for if you knew I were here

You’d be left sweaty

You’re face down and sleeping.

Laying above you and off to your left

I am wondering what your shoulder feels like under tongue

Why you choose to remain there is part of your perpetual stumbles.

Your deliberate pain tired me to only coach you out of love

which you accepted with a magnitude great enough to make you feel complete.

Epiphany, you choke on your wonder

You sprang to your feet

Spellbound you feel heady.

While I fantasy you and leave vapor