Beatin on our Thumps

A Red for the rogue in us
A Blue for the death we are walking to
A Green for the gloom we love
A Crimson for the final demise

Here we go Beatin on our Thumps

Stay Me
CassAmino

Oasis under a Microscope

So when was the last time I ever tried to be what I wanted to be when I wanted to be what I wanted to be? That's the way it goes when the cranks of the world can be the sore on your forehead. I am better off with a dead whore sucking on my polly than trying to figure out a way to escape, thats like an oasis under a microscope. Fuck you! Fuck me!


CassAmino

Unmindful of Tick Tock

I dreamt of becoming unmindful of Tick Tock. The dream ensued in successive phantom episodes of a new world life where I lost a new virginity at every blink of the eyes, where a river of love tears gushed in to me, to sanitize a new puberty.

Some dreams they were.

Stay me

CassAmino

The Vaganom Encounter

The nomad-type has a penchant for moving, while the vagabonds are aimless in their movement, but the Vaganoms are a breed apart. They seek an eternal change, for nothing satiates their hunger for satiation, and are yet so purposeless, they lose themselves in unprecedented encounters that come their way. But being a Vaganom, some things are guaranteed like, losing the verge of the tip in a black hole mouth, getting soaked in salt water, not chasing the demons of myopia and hyperopia, living in the skins of any departed, fighting an intergalactic super war with your finger nails and ending up on a surface where everything is too clear to be told.

When every encounter is unprecedented, you are a Vaganom.

Stay Me
CassAmino

My hand was not mine

Suddenly I saw my hand move, not as mine but as that of, of what? May be of another man’s or may be of some invisible creature that gave me a stunted glimpse of its maneuvering. But I saw my hand move, not as mine. That stuck me. But I warn you. Watch your hand.

Walking F.U.

I was told
About this and about that
So I am
A Walking F.U.

Panta Rant Joker

He came to earth on Groday, 30^th Feb 2∆∞1
With a lute in his two holed pocket
He came to earth to show the people
The hole that contained the answer
To their Prayers
The hole had the Honey Bun
And the Pepper Sausage

They had the Honey Bun
And the Pepper Sausage
But forgot to pray
That’s when the Panta Rant Joker
Took them up the hole
Through the lute
Into the sky

On Cropday, 30^th Feb 2∆∞9
He let the Women fall
Through one hole
And the Men through the other hole
But held the Children
For they had to wait
Till the Panta Rant Joker’s
Next Cropday

-Stay Me - CassAmino

Verge of the Tip in a Black Hole Mouth

thus I define every single gush of pleasure and every single plunge of pain as I walk through the hawking medley of this foolish struggle> the garish shrieks of an unworldly ecstasy spurt out of my vocisac while the verge of tip is lost in a block hole mouth> and letting not the world of skirts lose its hope on the neutered kind> here I stand> with no way to say that I remain in love and in ecstasy> in pain and in abuse> of myself> losing the verge of the tip in a black hole mouth.