Whee hours of 3.

There are certain values do keep,

all of us who see it as a woe and yes in terms of weep.

This crept in as a new Monday’s revelation

while I took in a 3 hour sketching perforation,

of my knees locked incarceration of the love of food.

Do bring in the swollen inflammation.

Y is the love of the letter, yet Z doesn’t given 

any of this insane quatrain of lines 

will not even pertain on a single note.

Aah the dawn beckons.

While I wait for a loving embrace of rain.



®Artsydhude 97-19



Fair is not unfair.

You are born into a world 

that will not tolerate you.

We can not complain while all 

of us never do try not be as them;

It is karma of an ouroborous bite 

not of my bum.

It bites,

It strikes to where it wants,

. . . and needs to see of its



and the balance it implies.



®Artsydhude 97-19


Stages of ages.

Here I come to be,

not of my doing,

none of my being.

Does all my madness of my anger

yet never to give aggression an excuse.

To give in to that place,

where my fist can never be,

where my emotional love of misery.

Sure I am to have it all,

on a whim of my own

 revenge that never avenge.

Likely to be involved,

only my mind and heart do tell,

I can never get  into my own,

rebel yell.



®Artsydhude 2019



Verily I am to shiver,

all of this arrows quiver

of my epidermic walls.

Chill my ice,

never went nice

then You,

ask me twice.

I do love your nagging voice,

coz at least my cold skin

begins to boil to a crisp.

Enough to know you can love me as the same,

to keep my mind aflame.



®Artsydhude 2019


. . . in the absence of my pen,

I am to be. 

not of my hand.

not of my intellect.

none of what I know.

Yes to then,

that was never than,

No to myself,

coz my ego blew you,

and mine last summer.

When Jean met my eye,

never my mouth to say.

Aisle of oooh.



®Artsydhude 2019


. . .Your shade is not mine to begin with

But in all of your offers,

did I ever ask nothing in return.

did I ever told you;

I do not want it anymore.

I really can not stay for one single second,

to see the one i held for so long,


Because of your insane insecurities and inferiority behavior.

Coz I know for too long,

You gave me my own adopted way of happiness which is;



Wallowing of regrets.

and living in the past of:

shoulda, coulda, wudda.

I am asking for those whom I value.

Let us go,

let us be,

in the time we were.

You cannot even give me any excuse,

to be the one of your prodigal.



®Artsydhude 97-19


Out to be in.

Was I alone to allow all of these,

Were I have to be myself nor you can be,

Which way shall I . . .

. . can we.

. . can’t be.

Then to be than,

what of social not of society.

where the community is not the neighborhood.

why of mine to be not be neighborly.

I want to travel to my 20’s and invest not in me,

only to the love of company of friends.



®Artsydhude 97-19


In to out.

My herculean efforts are of the muscles which flexed to show,

how much of could have been.

My athenian wisdom were given noticed yet bowed to be humbled,

then again would’ve been ignored.

In so doing inasmuch to be yet again coupled with all of the ones,

that is avoided.

Why do and I should bother,

because love and life,

is mine alone to begin,

and never end to give.



®Artsydhude 97-19


. . and the

sun did shine.

moon rised.

light loved the dark.

Am I supposed to be the one,

that I am to be.

Once the mystery of yours was,

now none lives every step of one can.

Far away from my galaxy to your neighborhood,

a nice and lovely worst enemy of mine.

So, my ox.

the moron who justifies all of the one,

position will always judge all of my fallacies.

Here is my Windows phone.

Care to take my selfie in your place.

Can we never stop all of our insane loving grace for each other.



®Artsydhude 97-19


My dearies,

Annie, Diana and my beautiful baby Prunella.

The Past was the most loving life you made me realize you three were the ones that made it complete.

Annie my anxieties, you are mine to cast tomorrow and the most alluring shame of mine.

Diana of all bittersweet depression. You and I always make love of my misery and innermost pain. Please keep the blame we gather and spend most lovingly.

Prunella, my sweetest pasts that lies to begin that won’t ever end. You will be my vampire queen that sucks me into those depths where my own leviathian of my assumptions that never fled of my own flood.

Sincerely yours.