He bent recognition, solar place middle names travel faster than the speed of light, others finding disingenuous off grid bile
A catholic second-in-command from a long line of ‘Johns’, generational counterpart herding, coal and iron ore miners, pit head labour and coal hawker boys, men without spells escaped beating winds and levelling rain
Excluded from that fantastic fatalistic collective, the one who hadn’t travelled to Earth’s core, escape artist impregnator of widows, City Life street sweeper, 1940’s Cinema Bouncer, a man inside a long red coat with silver epaulets, head inside a cold peaked cap, a will and a way, undesirable women felt his stem, left red finger tattoos on pale skins
He knew these mysteries in sixty and seventy years, but movies fell back to ten, Latin jobs to five, consumed the unpronounceable, unsolvable mystery of Life
Every day was a Jesus’ head, hands up to the Drinks Industry, looking up all the Saint John’s, faithful stories in encyclopaedias, convinced uncertainty, resurrecting unfinished missions
Saints taunted by the Son of God, the Second Adam unveiled weeping women, merciless men, he tasted pushy victim’s breath, got gravitational pulls, wide range of noises
A psychoanalyst’s door plate, a golden gift at £2 a letter back at the start, Love giving ultimatum graves
A two-door Planet reassembled to create one barrier, She priests considered the possibilities of Protestantism
Outside, his oil and water memory counted in and out, three missing for a lonely trinity, priests know their shadows, recognise and see
Moved in seconds, left in a way
She sat for five wondering about happenings, counting a poor box and communion wafers
His half shoe soles slapped wet pavements, rain penetrated concrete underpass back roads
The end

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Born rust

Factory men
wailing yards
artificial bags, cow’s-back boots, pale food paste
salted snail’s pace vermin
minus is cells kill, twenty days hunger striker
Culdees taken before this
nail in the roof
my rented let your breath out

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Depths superior
Marksman magnifying gunship blast skies
Over, now, heaped-up dead what meat and flat ale to head, then he’s on dog hair pillows
Man Friday linguist fantastic, Idaho white wheat fields postcards, uncontaminated into bliss
In, love for horse’s mane tango, barbed wire gallant
In the house was acted still, blue-pencilled pill chronicles
Catch honour, Sun, resting mass melt
Wall, Flag

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Kick Ayn Rand

Drinking at one of a thousand Earth water bowls, seizing boredom, waste and foreign bride options
I’m a Dark Ages persistent commoner, cheapening banks of brown and silver slapping creation
Dry to wet wading, triumphant free rider in a hired stretch limo
Dishonesty, entrepreneurial, myself and the simpletons from a shoal of rebels
Time onto a constant loop
My wage patrol incidences gave out gutted gills air
City shadow bleach

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Patrick, Patrick

Amen, contented man
Illiteracy alleged a signature, 1901
1883, took her, made her
Blindfolded woman, sober anonymous electoral register fodder, Requiem for a cut-rate death in wood, burial for shillings, two years of choosing another hate manifested in later ledgers, got cramped in the plot, dead babies, not long now 67-year-old labourer from a Sligo whip-maker
He took a reclusive WWI soldier’s bed, the side street next to music hall’s gable end, renovated culture house ghetto blaster
Upright dreamer bedded-into another absent voter, poor man trench eating rat-kind, writing written pencil script –

“Can me to Mars or Jupiter!, It’ll happen to brave Americans later, but not back there, to vulture vermin talon.” –

Foot-rot denied a meal, subsidence in mud & stone, labouring inside nearly-new Brunel barns, kicked-out his interloper
First left alone with an ugly daughter, back to tenements behind a graveyard, or graveyard behind the tenements, sacrilege east and west
five feet tall before bricked-up tax-avoidance windows, saw the nineteenth century over, but his born Man
To wet shipyards with dry docks that lent tools to rages so descendants could get tickets for State love, robots and valley diseases
Who wants a job?, I want Abraham Lincoln’s easy, easy deal, his white monument cleaned to Techno beat and its uncorrected marble crevice dust valleys kill Spanish Indians
Armstrong and Glen come back to Earth God

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Vervain Earthlings

This is excellent, like a clean hovering ghost

Charlie Zero The Poet

Apotheosis tyro,
you see its abscissa;
forming into a sapient.
Vervain jeers at dots
with guile and immure.

frailty intuit,
despair of organisms.
varmint hod,
rumple sinew debunks somehow.

Extraterrestrials piss
out a gooey homunculus
featherlike albatross mutant.
Its glass hollow teeth
a crystal ball of futureless seems.

Permanent measles…
Sorry, hot blind stitch.
Unwind, you circle-mill hue –
crack the smoother invite the few.

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Vervain Earthlings – may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means: electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Charlie Zero the Poet…

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Marlon Brando Prophesied Satan’s Anti-aging Testicle Juice

Tremendous wordsmith. See other valuables at Charlie Zero1

Charlie Zero The Poet

I’m tired of hipster beards
living off gypsies & artsy fartsy.
Johnnie Cochran paraphrased it:

“Flop at the box office,
or drink martini juice.”

A famous quote by: Testicle Namaste.

Marlon Brando
coined the term: “Science”
back in the 1700s. How?
He mumbled gibberish
prophesies that entailed; Nazi hairdryers,
DMV chlamydia, & cub scout illuminati.

Oh! So, you’re saying;
yeast infections we’re part
of an elaborate John Travolta
to further their anti-aging bird shit?
Yep, slaveantology
imprisons 7-UP.
They know if you consume it –
it’ll make mick jagger feel horny again.

Gene Simmons…
you trademarked Satan’s abs?
No wonder your soul
is half gazpacho & half psoriasis.
And speaking of Toys ‘r’ us…
How’s life treating you in Barcelona?
Hopefully, soapy and, aunt jemima free…

Copyright © 2017 Charlie Zero the Poet

All rights Reserved.

No part of Marlon Brando Prophesied Satan’s Anti-aging Testicle Juice – may be reproduced…

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Comrade Addict

Commenced emptiness, The Mass singular
Folk music, wings over gymnastic blasphemies, lifted by Leni
Governor Kingdom can’t
three hundred and something ends, the end, Berlin boys
I loved, coal to widows, ash to vixen, and monoxides ran
Peta, Peta, doctor slaughter
Edda pointed her ballet toes at bolting Schorfheide quadrupeds
Focus, concentration, rejoice, free
Eva gave my wound time to open
the future will be facts
card cup’s spiced coffee decants into hold
rails shine up angst

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Vatican 3

Brother Conflicted on vows day, He to kill the Devil
cruise ship Ave Maria melts candle wax
bells for laundered robed walkers, climbing pyramids
throwing pickaxes at indigent sheep, neck high in their ‘lackey’ diamond hand clasp pleading for wafer-thin drugs, shutting their mouths with it, stapling down their tongues with it
outside Art hate $4.6m

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Bragger Greys

Instore café content, paces past a chemist and a black man, taste it
Bearded men, smooth men, and golden ruby wives
Vigour-lacking lists turning over old stories, new times on black and white paper, detail sliding tackles
He-‘politician’, this day and age had his lady helper, a mug to mouth coaxer, slow motion intake hailer
Not about beyond, that ‘should be’, leaving, knowing near-term middle clock left

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