#that doesnt exist in the way people think it does. much like how dead poets society creates this false dichotomy where the artistic are the

[rangerdew]

its so hard not to despair at the way the illustration community treats the conversation about "ai art"

[bookofmac]

okay okay okay, thinking thoughts

So I find the concept of Names really interesting in Camlann, reading into the extracanonical stuff put on the tumblr is giving me food for theory crafting. The Catacylsm seems to be some kind of return of magic to the world (possibly heralded by the return of The King of the Britons in their hour of need?) and thus people with significant Names have access to something because of it. they fall into the stories of their namesakes; Perry, Gwaine, and Kay are Knights, Morgan is Morgana Le Fay, and we now have a Gwen in Shújūn.

Based on Kay's dicussion with Perry if more people can fill in the roles of their stories to more 'to plan' the stories will go, Of course this is not good news if you know the general end point of Arthurian legend (Betrayal, muderer, war, most everyone dead, the 'Glory' of camelot gone). It's inherently kind of a doomsday cult if you stay in those stories, you know where parts of this are going (i'll get back to this)

it also seems like there may be some, for lack of a better term, kin drama going on. There are 900 members of the court and Kay mentions that Peredur is a really uncommon name outside of Wales, meaning there are certain knights who are more common, i assume Lancelot's, Kay's, maybe a few Talisin's, a bunch of Gareth's, and like 50 Elaines like in the legends lol

We also dont have the context for how Names work full yet and neither do our characters. I think theres a lot of answers to be had with Shújūn/Gwen with how it works, how you know other than the buzzing in you're head and desire go through the motions and Follow the Story

Now, where does Dai fit in all this?

Dai doesn't have a Name, and I think theres going to be a point where he changes his name in a major way, but not to a Name, but a Bardic name. In welsh poetic and story telling tradtions Welsh poets, THE OG Bards, will take on pseudonyms tell their stories. This practice stems from the medievil era, but goes forth to today, and many modern Welsh and welsh heritage poets have connections to this tradition (Dylan Thomas' middle name was his great uncles bardic name, Sarah Williams published her work under the name Sadie), I believe it's also a requirement to have one if you intend to perform in the major Eisteddfod, (I am Australian so my experiance of Eisteddfods here is very different so if i'm wrong on that let me know)

Why would he do this? I think Dai is going to, at least try, to write him and his friends a way out.

Much ink is spilt over how Arthurian legend doesnt have an 'orginal text', and as such there are lots of stories that are inherently contradictory; Bedwyr is the best knight, but so are Gwaine, Lancelot, and Galahad. Mordred is some random king until his Arthur's son. Arthur has a sister, no he has two, actually he has three and one of them is an Elaine. This could be used to explain any doubles (are you my Gwaine), as well as why we see a few different spelling varients which are, the very welsh Peredur as opposed to Percival or Parzifal, the anglisised and more boarish Kay as opposed to Cei or Caius (this last one might just to keep Dai and Kay distinct tho). These variations are no more or less 'canon' than any other telling of the story, and so often the writer of a given telling of Arthurian legend is going to have their own bias. But things dont HAVE to end the way they always do, and sometime you need to have someone outside the story you're caught in to tell you a new one.

You are not locked into that ever looming cloud of Thomas Mallory and Le Morte d'Arthur.

Other evidence I have for this is that Dai sings at the begining of each episode, and sings in welsh at that. He also is, to a point our narrator, existing both in and out of the current narative. Also his name is an a lyric of Sosban Fach (a song i would be surprised if it wasn't in the show at some point) 'Dai bach y sowldiwr' which is also not from the text the song was based on. Tangential yes, but i think it's worth thinking about.

I think there is also something to be said about choice in what your name is and how it feeds into the overall theme of identiy, and how that plays into other themes at play in the story, like Transness, Imperialism, and Predestination

TL:DR; While he doesnt have a Name, Dai's gonna give himself an epic bard name and save them all by writing a killer hook to get them out of the story

[starsoddity]

ADHD NEIL PERRY HEADCANONS (that are TOTALLY canon)

[DISCLAIMER: everyone experiences adhd differently, so this is mainly based off my own experience :)]

once he hears about midsummer, he develops a full hyperfixation on it within an hour.

He scours the school library to try find a copy of shakespeare's comedies so he can read the script (before he even goes to the audition), and when he can't find it he goes to keating, who gladly gives him an old battered copy. He says if Neil has any questions, or wants to talk about it at all just to visit he can. Neil does. a lot. He starts staying back after every class he can, and sometimes gets there early when he doesnt lose track of time and forget.

speaking of losing track of time,, it's like he needs a baby sitter wherever he goes otherwise he will forget he exists and end up lying face down on the floor for three hours (todd has found him laying on his bed upside down so his whole torso is hanging off the side with a blank expression before. ("... watcha doing?" "i'm planning the conversation i'm gonna have when i meet james dean when we're in a movie together" "... ok, well how's it going?" "toddy, james dean is gonna think i'm a moron")

charlie has learnt to pick up on when Neil starts to feel overwhelmed because he starts to hold his breath and shift in his seat every few seconds. He doesn't really know what's going on, but he knows that giving him one thing to focus on helps

so every time it happens he starts saying whatever he can remember from midsummer, and neil starts to mutter the rest of the lines under his breath, and charlie starts drawing all the attention he can away from him (it's not hard,, he's charlie fuckin dalton)

puns become a permanant part of his personality because that is the only literary device shakespeare uses in that show.

if you mention midsummer nights dream around him you can physically see him tense up and try not to blurt out the closing monologue or shout some obscure fact about this one production of the show they did a few years back

sometimes he just trails off midsentence, losing his train of thought and he has to knock on his head a couple of times to get the brain jumpstarted

i have forgotten half of my ideas just writing this goddamn it

he cuts himself off too, inturrupting his own thoughts because he can't talk as fast as his mind thinks, especially when he's getting excited.

once he got in Midsummer, the only things he read in next few dead poets meetings were snippets of the script, and he made everyone else join in

charlie made a lovely nick bottom

he's asked the boys to come to the movies with him more than once but everytime he manages to drag one of them along he ends up talking throughout the whole thing about the actors and who they are and the work of the directors and the foreshadowing they use in the cinematography (because there is n o way that this is the first time he's seen it)

once he managed to convince todd to sneak out with him to see a community theatre production of oklahoma and he cried as soon as the overture started

when todd asked why he just said he really wants to be onstage

the same thing happened when a touring shakespeare theatre company came through and they did As You Like It

he memorised the whole "all the world's a stage" monologue as soon as he got home

neil loves rambling to todd because he doesn't like talking as much as neil, and he seems to like listening; he loves listening to neil. Him sitting on his bed, while neil paces frantically around the room, waving his arms with his voice, and never remembering to keep his voice down.

he recites lines over and over to himself as a form of vocal stimming, and if someone catches him he just says he's 'rehearsing' (even though most of the time it isn't even his lines)

i wish there weren’t a wall

i wish there weren't a wall

i wish there weren't a wall

it's like lines get stuck in his head the same way music and songs do for most people. sometimes he and todd are sitting in silence in their dorm and he just bursts out "uGH I HAVE "you're tearing me apart!" FROM REBEL WITHOUT A CAUSE STUCK IN MY HEAD"

oh god this is very long i might do a part 2

[misterbitches]

Most ppl porbably know this if u have been following me for a while bc i’m a prettentious hIDEOUS anarchist BITCH and i never shut up about it but i’m a filmmaker (and artiste i paint and illustrate...poorly) I hate awards shows, i hate the self-congratulatory BS rthe rich pplkin a room or ppl who want to be rich or gain social capital. No matter their color or gender etc it’s bullshit. Definition of insanity is watching this shit over and over and expecting a different outcome. It’s truly a wonderrful feeling to be acknowledged and if awards show didnt determine some bullshit (literally « good opportunities » it depends on who. What happened to lupita n’yongo?)

I have some sad news: 1 - i think other races are realizing that, much like the black counterparts they obsess over because we are just that fuckin’ fascinating, but they are fads. You are a fad ni the machine that isw bullshit Culturalism and multiculturalism as progress. Do not rest on the rich people, believe in your fucking self and do what you need. Bong Joon Ho existed befor ean dafter that win (i kidna want to go into this more but no) and barry jenkins pre-moonlight made a film that was extremely well-received and featured (shock) a black cast and good actors and was about gentrification. He took a break from filmmaking and focused on advertising IIRC for THIRTEEN YEARS. SO THEY EXIST. As for black filmmakers and arrtists we are alsways. Here. Leads me to 2; you exist and you should not be stolen from

2 - i startefd doing more research on blackface and minstrelsy digital blackface as well. And blackness is a commodity as we know butt here’s just constant fucking theft. I learned about the few succesful times balckface was incorporated (by black people ofc) and just yea. It was eye-opening. I didn’t know the oscars were happening and then i got the notif about boseman before bed and it was pointless.

I think he should have been out of the runnin at least for a bit. They knew what they were doing because the academy didn’t vote for him. I can’t remember correctly but if I have vague knowledge the movie wasn’t received super well (like, say, a fences) so maybe it makes sense. But this man died at 43 and was working through COLON CANCER (my father had the same thing, same stage, but he’s here at 62. It’s just shitty. It’s fucking shitty) and you want to evaluate his work? In this stupid fucking paradigm after this hell year? After the hell year for black people specifically (spoiler: THIS IS OUR CONSTANT) and what I find dumbfounding about this is this is capitalism. This is hollywood. This is the mainstream (refer to #1) because there has to be winners and losers. This is a hot take so maybe we dont’ need to judge posthumously—at least not in an instant way when someone passes but released a work—at least maybe not an award. Critiquing and talking about their work (like jonghyun’s album poet|artist) is different then hyoing up a construction and saying to a man who is by the way um como se dice DEAD!!!! DEAD! HELLO! And saying « lol u lost the most important awards show ‘ever’ according 2 us also ur dead also this doesnt matter and oh btw here’s an nft of this DEAD BLACK MAN’S FACE in your goodie bags! » like what is this garbage

Technology has made it so removal of ownership is an even better form of stealing. An even better way for minstrelsy to prevail on non-blackness. When black minstrelsy has existed (IE black people using that pain and stereotype as subversion, as laughs, because the trauma of being seen as an object is endless. So we have to figure out what pain you put upon us and how we can proceed) and we are innovators, creators, foundations. FIlmmaking relies on black exploitation and erasure, most art does, and we are not people until we can be commodities. We aren’t real because blackness is an expression not a state of being, not trauma and pain, not joy and immense beauty.

The thing is that (most) AI, NFTs, techno advancement (space ex lmao) isn’t about absorption, sharing, and innovating. Deepfakes all of that shit too. It facilitates THEFT. Tik Tok is born out of black theft and like most bad things that evolve black pain evolves to greater pain, particularly in america, so now black people are having their work removed or livelihoods copied (btw if ur not black u will nevr be, u will never understand our structure of feeling and who we are. I know it pains you but build a bridge and get the fuck over it. You can’t be a nigga and eschew the nigger) it seeps into regular popular culture. The fact that an NFT of nirvana’s last shoot is being sold is fucking everyhting Nirvana is against. Basquiat would probably hate that (if he could wrap his 1980s brain around the concept. I hate it. I hate it because none of it is to help artists or to go further. You don’t have to recreate a Nirvana song via AI because this time has passed. The band members wouldn’t even want that.

We can’t bottle time and memories and remove the fucking context from them. It’sd scary. And so much of this is just relying on black exploitation and theft of immense black labor. Our freedom is intrinsic to world freedom and yuo can see as things evolve how (particularly in the US but also our likeness as culture and cutural exploits) and eventually, maybe, you will be erased like us. But the thing is: we know this, we live it, we keep going. Can other people handle that? I am not so sure, though I hope they will. One last thing as more and more people try and become progressive or whatever I really just wish they understood blackness as a real root to liberation. Ending Israeli Apartheid is a big one as well; we are not free until Palestinians are free but if they get free then we have to attack the (non black) « arab » psyche of superiority. However, Palestinians have an afffinity with black people in the diaspora because of the genocidal tendencies in the US and because of SA apartheid.

I’m going to stop here but none of these things above are intersted in sharing more art and stuff. The OSCARS were cvreated to bust unions and keep black people out. Celebrities who are radical got their lives destroyed. And now we have very little legacy of people doing what they enjoy because they enjoy it and being able to speak up. It’s less of a necessity when you can just get in the room and chill. The idea is to get people realizing they dont WANT to be in the room.

Lastly: my thoughts on representation are complex. I do not believe the representation of asians is going to go as far as people think and I absolutely do not believe that it is because of the anti-asian hate and sinophobia that is borne out of this time. Hollywood has no interest in being progressive and what little we get it’s being pushed onthe inside. Even for streaming companies outside of TV—status quou is imminent. Media is propaganda and true amazing artists can convey it. But it’s more about money and fame as capital atp which is always the direction it was going.

Artists deserve happiness, ownership, and a life. They should want to say things that matter, nothing is apolitical, and we should strive to make good shit. Strive to reduce waste on sets. Strive to see people as fucking human. Art is a ridiculous stupid bougie rat-race but here I am.

[julesdelorme]

So I did a read through and cosmetic edit, but the warning still stands true...

Warning: the following contains extreme language and thoughts, a run on sentence, no punctuation and absolutely no caps. It makes no sense and should not be read by anyone...

unless he ducked i killed my father unless he ducked i dont know i dont know they hid in the tall grass the saw grass the tall grass unless he ducked unless he ducked the doctor said i need to take my meds but shes trying to poison me trying to make me crazy trying to make me sick i dont trust her i dont trust anybody but especially her she doesnt even wear a white coat how can she be a doctor i was thinking of killing her and then she ducked like my father just like my father he disappeared she disappeared he was there and then he wasnt she was there and then she wasnt and i was thinking of killing them maybe i did or maybe they ducked maybe they never even existed i dont know i dont know he was there sometimes and then he wasnt there and then he wasnt there all the time and i meant to kill him unless he ducked he took me hunting one time and in the grass the tall grass he jerked me off and i jerked him off in the tall grass the saw grass waiting for ducks in hip waders we were hunting ducks and i had a shotgun and he had a shotgun but i dont know if the guns were loaded and i killed him unless he ducked calling the ducks with duck callers our shotguns i think that happened unless it didnt i got nothing against ducks hanging in the windows in chinatown where you get cold tea and duck if they let you in because sometimes the door is locked and theres just the dead ducks in the windows i dont know i dont know the doctor doesnt believe me but i dont believe her i dont believe in her what kind of fucking doctor doesnt wear a white coat trying to poison my brain make my brain explode she puts the pills right into my veins poison poison poison popping those pills right into my veins shes nuts i tell you fuck her fuck her i would have shot him if he didnt duck if we didnt shoot the ducks those poor ducks no good reason except to hang them in the window poor fucking ducks pull the trigger watch the head explode pull the trigger and see his head explode in the tall grass while hes jerking me off fuck him fuck him he fucked me in the ass i think i dont know for sure except my ass was bleeding and all the blood and all the blood i killed him for that unless he ducked quack quack shes a fucking quack off my meds on my meds making my head explode making my ass bleed blood in the tall grass needles in my veins airplane straps on the bed jesus straps and the sound of the engine all night long and they wont let me sleep strapped to the bed like jesus like an airplane all that noise the screaming is it me screaming or somebody else screaming my ass wide open for him for the ducks the aliens fuck her what does she know my father my father my father rotten sonofabitch bastard fucker i killed him unless he ducked fuck him fuck him i would have killed him i should have killed the fucker the dirty fucker in the tall grass the way he stank of cigarettes and beer nicotine stains on his fingers those fingers jerking me off he stank he stank that fucking alcoholic chain smoking fucker if i didnt kill him the cancer probably did how the fuck could he still be alive that stinking sonofabitch i shot him in the face unless he ducked better him than the ducks they never did nothing to me or the chinese hanging in the windows the stink of death the stink of killing of blood and gunpowder and beer and menthol cigarettes what does it take what the fuck does it take he must be dead hes dead i know hes dead i think hes dead what the fuck does it take i pulled that trigger i know i pulled that trigger fuck him fuck him the gun the cold metal in my hands against my skin cold and wet up to my nuts in stinking filthy swamp tall grass fucking fuck fuck a duck i pulled that trigger i shot him in the face in his ugly face that bastard that prick that sonofabitch motherfucker i shot him i definitely shot him unless he ducked he could have ducked maybe he ducked how the fuck should i know if he ducked or if i shot him in the face blood and brains splattering all over the tall grass ducks would of got a kick out of that seeing a guy shoot another guy instead of a duck unless he ducked i meant to shoot him i sure meant to shoot him blow his fucking big mouth to to other side of his head like a cartoon character that duck the cartoon duck the black one not the yellow one only i never saw a black duck mostly mallards dont think i ever saw a yellow one either for that matter but i always liked the black one better he was funny the yellow one wasn’t even funny and i could never understand what the fuck he was saying but the black one was funny even though he sounded exactly like the cat that was always chasing the bird he was way funnier when his bill would spin around his head when he got shot and he would put it back and say that thing i cant remember the thing but it was funny i liked that duck he was funny my old man he wasnt funny at all he thought he was funny never made me laugh never gave me anything but pain and more pain and worse pain that fucker but he sure thought he was funny i hope he didnt duck i hope i turned his face to pulp fuck him fuck him fuck him with his nicotine fingers and his breath always smelled like cigarettes and beer for fucks sake chew some gum or rinse your fucking mouth out with listerine or something stinking breath sonofabitch fuck you fuck you in the tall grass where no one could see you jerking me off and making me jerk you off you fucker you fucking perverted fucked up fuck half a fag touching your own sons dick and making him touch your hairy dick definitely half a fag and something else too something a lot worse than i got words for you deserved to die he deserved to die should of shot his dick and nuts off ha ha how would you like that for fucking funny how would you like that for laughs you fucked up pig that fucked up pig i know i know i know secrets that nobody knows i got all these secrets all locked up inside my head all kinds of secrets secrets that would fuck your head right up whats really going on behind the scenes the cia the fbi the fucking communists and fucking jfk and the mafia all kinds of secrets secrets that could get me killed secrets could get me disappeared like jimmy fucking whats his name i know shit i know shit i know some secrets not just about the old man that old half a fag pervert child molester i know where some bodies are buried lots of bodies people who got disappeared and people other people dont even know are disappeared i know i know shit i know secrets alien autopsy knights fucking templars i could blow the lid off things if i wanted to trust me trust me i know some seriously fucking shit im like that wrestler with the glasses that make him see things the sunglasses i can see i can see just like roddy whats his name i dont even need the glasses i can just see i just know things inside my brain things inside my head inside my  fucking head i know shit some really deep shit fuck you i know you cant make me not know i know this shit trying to make me forget wonder if its real i fucking know i know so fuck you in our slickers in the mud in the swamp in the tall grass surrounded by bugs and frogs in the wilderness fucking molesting asshole pedophile stinking fuck you fuck i know shit i remember no matter how much you try to make me forget i remember i know i know dont try to bullshit me dont try to confuse me i know i mean i know things not everything in the whole fucking world that’s not what im saying dont try to say that im saying i know everything im just saying i know some things and i know what i know i mean what i do know and its stuff that some people probably most people dont know the shit i know thats all im saying but i dont know if he ducked or if i shot him in the face i meant to shoot his head right off i definitely meant to do it i definitely pulled the fucking trigger maybe he ducked or maybe the gun didnt go off thats possible that it jammed or it didn’t go off for some reason i dont know i dont know that for sure one way or the other sometimes i know i killed him sometimes i know he ducked or the gun jammed or something else kept me from shooting him unless i shot a duck and i thought it was him unless he ducked he could of ducked i dont know i dont know i dont fucking know but i know other things things that other people dont know things that you dont know fuck you i know shit i know secrets i know all kinds of secrets but not if i killed him but not if he ducked i dont know that so dont fucking ask cuz i dont remember exactly so i cant tell you so dont ask me i killed my father i killed the doctor i shot the sheriff unless he ducked unless he ducked i dont know maybe he ducked i hope he didnt fucking duck but maybe he ducked

https://www.facebook.com/delormewriting

#writing #writer #writers #poetry #poem #poems #poet #JulesDelorme #JulesFDelorme #delormewriting #ScarboroughWritersFightClub #unlessheducked 

[julesdelorme]

Warning: the following contains extreme language, a run on sentence, and absolutely no caps. It makes no sense and should not be read by anyone... unless he ducked

i killed my father unless he ducked i dont know i dont know they hid in the tall grass the saw grass the overgrown menacing grass unless he ducked unless he ducked the doctor said i need to take my meds but shes trying ton poison trying to make me crazy trying to make me sick i dont trust her i dont trust anybody but especially her she doesnt even wear a white coat how can she be a doctor i was thinking of killing her and then she ducked like my father just like my father he disappeared she disappeared he was there and then he wasnt she was there and then she wasnt and i was thinking of killing them maybe i did or maybe they ducked maybe they never even existed i dont know i dont know he was there sometimes and then he wasnt there and then he wasnt there all the time and i meant to kill him unless he ducked he took me hunting one time and in the grass the tall grass he jerked me off and i jerked him off in the tall grass the saw grass waiting for ducks in hip waders we were hunting ducks and i had a shotgun and he had a shotgun but i dont know if the guns were loaded and i killed him unless he ducked calling the ducks with our shotguns i think that happened unless it didnt i got nothing against ducks hanging in the windows in chinatown where you get cold tea and duck if they let you in because sometimes the door is locked and there’s just the dead ducks in the windows i dont know i dont know the doctor doesnt believe me but i dont believe her i dont believe in her what kind of fucking doctor doesnt wear a white coat trying to poison my brain make my brain explode she puts the pills right into my veins poison poison poison popping those pills right into my veins shes nuts i tell you fuck her fuck her i would have shot him if he didnt duck if we didnt shoot the ducks those poor ducks no good reason except to hang them in the window poor fucking ducks pull the trigger watch the head explode pull the trigger and see his head explode in the tall grass while hes jerking me off fuck him fuck him he fucked me in the ass i think i dont know for sure except my ass was bleeding and all the blood and all the blood i killed hi for that unless he ducked quack quack shes a fucking quack off my meds on my meds making my head explode making my ass bleed blood in the tall grass needles in my veins airplane straps on the bed jesus straps and the sound of the engine all night long and they wont let me sleep strapped to the bed like jesus like an airplane all that noise the screaming is it me screaming or somebody else screaming my ass wide open for him for the ducks the aliens fuck her what does she know my father my father my father rotten sonofabitch bastard fucker i killed him unless he ducked fuck him fuck him i would have killed him i should have killed the fucker the dirty fucker in the tall grass the way he stank of cigarettes and beer nicotine stains on his fingers those fingers jerking me off he stank he stank that fucking alcoholic chain smoking fucker if i didnt kill him the cancer probably did how the fuck could he still be alive that stinking sonofabitch i shot him in the face unless he ducked better him than the ducks they never did nothing to me or the chinese hanging in the windows the stink of death the stink of killing of blood and gunpowder and beer and menthol cigarettes what does it take what the fuck does it take he must be dead hes dead i know hes dead i think hes dead what the fuck does it take i pulled that trigger i know i pulled that trigger fuck him fuck him the gun the cold metal in my hands against my skin cold and wet up to my nuts in stinking filthy swamp tall grass fucking fuck fuck a duck i pulled that trigger i shot him in the face in his ugly face that bastard that prick that sonofabitch motherfucker i shot him i definitely shot him unless he ducked he could have ducked maybe he ducked how the fuck should i know if he ducked or if i shot hi in the face blood and brains splattering all over the tall grass ducks would of got a kick out of that seeing a guy shoot another guy instead of a duck unless he ducked i meant to shoot him i sure meant to shoot him blow his fucking big mouth to to other side of his head like a cartoon character that duck the cartoon duck the black one not the yellow one only i never saw a black duck mostly mallards dont think i ever saw a yellow one either for that matter but i always liked the black one better he was funny the yellow one wasn’t even funny and i could never understand what the fuck he was saying but the black one was funny even though he sounded exactly like the cat that was always chasing the bird he was way funnier when his bill would spin around his head when he got shot and he would put it back and say that thing i cant remember the thing but it was funny i liked that duck he was funny my old man he wasnt funny at all he thought he was funny never made me laugh never gave me anything but pain and more pain and worse pain that fucker but he sure thought he was funny i hope he didnt duck i hope i turned his face to pulp fuck him fuck him fuck him with his nicotine fingers and his breath always smelled like cigarettes and beer for fucks sake chew some gun or rinse your fucking mouth out with listerine or something stinking breath sonofabitch fuck you fuck you in the tall grass where no one could see you jerking me off and making me jerk you off you fucker you fucking perverted fucked up fuck half a fag touching your own sons dick and making him touch your hairy dick definitely half a fag and something else too something a lot worse than i got words for you deserved to die he deserved to die should of shot his dick and nuts off ha ha how would you like that for fucking funny how would you like that for laughs you fucked up pig that fucked up pig i know i know i know secrets that nobody knows i got all these secrets all locked up inside my head all kinds of secrets secrets that would fuck your head right up whats really going on behind the scenes the cia the fbi the fucking communists and fucking jfk and the mafia all kinds of secrets secrets that could get me killed secrets could get me disappeared like jimmy fucking whats his name i know shit i know shit i know some secrets not just about the old man that old half a fag pervert child molester i know where some bodies are buried lots of bodies people who got disappeared and people other people dont even know are disappeared i know i know shit i know secrets alien autopsy knights fucking templars i could blow the lid off things if i wanted to trust me trust me i know some seriously fucking shit im like that wrestler with the glasses that make him see things the sunglasses i can see i can see just like roddy whats his name i dont even need the glasses i can just see i just know things inside my brain things inside my head inside my  fucking head i know shit some really deep shit fuck you i know you cant make me not know i know this shit trying to make me forget wonder if its real i fucking know i know so fuck you in our slickers in the mud in the swamp in the tall grass surrounded by bugs and frogs in the wilderness fucking molesting asshole pedophile stinking fuck you fuck i know shit i remember no matter how much you try to make me forget i remember i know i know dont try to bullshit me dont try to confuse me i know i mean i know things not everything in the whole fucking world that’s not what im saying dont try to say that im saying i know everything im just saying i know some things and i know what i know i mean what i do know and its stuff that some people probably most people dont know the shit i know thats all im saying but i dont know if he ducked or if i shot him in the face i meant to shoot his head right off i definitely meant to do it i definitely pulled the fucking trigger maybe he ducked or maybe the gun didnt go off thats possible that it jammed or it didn’t go off for some reason i dont know i dont know that for sure one way or the other sometimes i know i killed him sometimes i know he ducked or the gun jammed or something else kept me from shooting him unless i shot a duck and i thought it was him unless he ducked he could of ducked i dont know i dont know i dont fucking know but i know other things things that other people dont know things that you dont know fuck you i know shit i know secrets i know all kinds of secrets but not if i killed him but not if he ducked i dont know that so dont fucking ask cuz i dont remember exactly so i cant tell you so dont ask me i killed my father unless he ducked unless he ducked i dont know maybe he ducked i hope he didnt fucking duck but maybe he ducked

#writing #writer #writers #poetry #poem #poems #poet #JulesDelorme #JulesFDelorme #delormewriting #ScarboroughWritersFightClub #unlessheducked