NineOS

Table of Content:

• [014.1] Hard Times
• [014.2] Hard Times II
• [014.3] Crown
• [014.4] Score
• [014.5] Esmara VI
• [014.6] Neighborhood
• [014.7] Bottom Line

I. Hard Times / Hard Times (014.1)

Hard Times

Hard times‘ave befallen honest men,
the core of the West seems rotten.
Effeminate elves and raging gnomes,
each trump politicans besotten.

Priests and virgins captivate millions,
appear to appeal to an ancient hill.
Droughts, fires, floods, pollution.
How much o’Earth shall we spill?

The elite is plundering our planet,
but that’s what they’ve always done.
Before they discovered the rulebook,
they used chariots, swords or a gun.

Common people crave flesh and money.
Ancient people render(ed) War and God.
Hitler taught aristocrats a savage lesson,
Till peasants proved him a mere fraud.

“Mein Kampf” became a World War,
now the innocent choke once again.
I wish I could relieve their suffering,
but I have only the ink of my pen.

“WHY?” a hypersonic target screams,
her daughters dying by her side.
Because we are concious beings…
within whom Gods and Devils reside.

Mako The Poet

II. Hard Times / Hard Times II (014.2)

Hard Times II

I feel like Woodman’s aging dick,
a monkey consignment gone wrong.
Memories of youth and slit prowess,
when my body felt willing and strong.

No money to buy me a paper.
No woman to prepare me a meal.
I scour the room for pennies,
‘How the fuck do you think I feel?‘

Hungry I walk the concrete jungle.
Jugglers and clowns on the street.
My neighbor just lost his kidney,
bemoans his most recent defeat.

I need to buy me some canned food.
I’m starved and left without money.
“Elvis made his comeback in ’68,”
I speak to myself rather funny.

“Yeah… but I’m no King, I’m a Poet.’
Hero of arcane and arcades past.
‘God, I loved Pac-man and Donkey Kong.’
But alas, good times never last.

Mako The Poet

III. Hard Times / Crown (014.3)

Crown

I once had a favorite plant,
that held this beautiful leaf.
It was big and strong and burly,
impervious to loss or grief.

One day I bought this new plant,
that looked a little like a tree.
Never questioned my motivation,
just felt that it belonged to me.

I placed the apprentice in my kitchen,
where my favorite plant ruled a king.
A spacial crisis gradually emerged,
until I changed the whole damn thing.

The king was moved to the side,
yet plenty of light remained.
The apprentice built more leaves,
while the former king became stained.

It tried to change its position,
yet every angle looked brown.
New leaves mock the former king,
and the one who lost his crown.

Mako The Poet

IV. Hard Times / Score (014.4)

Score

Some people contribute a lifetime.
Most dreamers write a single play.
Artsy fartsy lust for milk and honey,
whilst bereft drop to their knees and pray.

Some envision love a mere illusion.
Few believe power constitutes truth.
Most will only emerge during summer.
I was forced to fight throughout my youth.

Sexy models sell their sassy but-holes.
Most need others to convivially thrive.
Hatred circulates throughout the ages.
Interest forces us to struggle-survive.

Some confuse God with human desire.
Most believe in betraying their core.
Few deserve everlasting paradise.
The rest just longs to settle the score.

Mako The Poet

V. Hard Times / Esmara VI (014.5)

Esmara VI

Whenever you feel like shopping.
I try to blend into the crowd.
But you have this I-phone tracker,
that looks for the well endowed.

I hate to be in a clothing store,
though its fun to watch you flirty.
You zip and skip skintight jeans,
bend till it makes me feel dirty.

“What do you think about this one?”
‘Honey, I really really don’t care…’
“Does my lovely ass still please you?”
‘It would without that underwear…’

“Do I look fat in this summer dress?“
“You’re as beautiful as the Virgin Mary.”
Esmara emanates pious delight,
so penance demands I carry.

Mako The Poet

VI. Hard Times / Neighborhood (014.6)

Neighborhood

On my way to the grocery store,
I greet this leisurely Turk.
His hands uphold sallow bricks,
with a sad tiresome smirk.

Walk past this massage parlor,
the same tall kid outside.
He looks at me accusingly,
as if I’ve something to hide.

“Sir, will you please help me?“
He tries me every time.
But I care little for fools,
involved in scams or crime.

Brethren meet at their butcher,
Sometimes I purchase a loaf.
The girl who hands out the dough,
‘She’s a looker I tell ya, by Jove!‘

Gang of black men on the corner.
One touts his aggressive voice.
Grabs this junkie by the jacket,
“Yee cunnie, ya’ve nee choice!”

Finally reach the grocery store.
Lit polacks surround the entry.
Owner hired this huge wrestler,
now dealers use him as their sentry.

Indians replace what leonard sold.
Lovely Arab girls by their side.
Their long dark curls, my disbelief,
each look for a place to hide.

Mako The Poet

VII. Hard Times / Bottom Line (014.7)

Bottom Line

I’m in a place nobody wants to be,
a suffering I knew would come.
The abused, the battered, the old.
some swear, others spit, I feel numb.

“How did I get here?” we wonder.
I listened to the pain in my heart.
Unable to deal with lies and deceit.
I habitually tore me apart.

Fragments search for compassion.
Bloodshot eyes dart left and right.
Some empty, some dull, most unforgiving.
Several bruised from what seems last night.

A lesson I learned that horrible day.
The bottom line is lonely and cold.
Life on the limb is no mean feat,
now I’ve only my dreams to hold.

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [013.1] Starlet
• [013.2] Time
• [013.3] Esmara IV
• [013.4] MILF
• [013.5] Esmara V
• [013.6] Suffering

I. Star / Starlet (013.1)

Starlet

You’re a youthful starlet on Youtube,
You stretch yourself for all to see.
Your body in skintight outfits,
in an attempt to attract more fee.

You move between mobile cameras.
A thumb, a swipe, lewd shots.
The scenery of your binary body,
always imagines you having the hots.

You’re a teenage doll scarred within,
but the world sees only your but.
You long for your parents affection,
but all they hand you is your cut.

Mako The Poet

II. Star / Time (013.2)

Time

I was 12, then 40, then 70.
Life really felt like that.
I sat down for a little poo,
all was gone by the time I shat.

Mako The Poet

III. Star / Esmara IV (013.3)

Esmara IV

We’ve climbed a pinnacle’s edge,
my bum on a brittled beach.
You seduce this long banana,
while I peal this orange peach.

I dislike being in the sun,
my body fumigates red.
Remember the silent tears,
a sun burnt boy ones shed.

My stomach gleems nicely though,
you rubbed on solar protection.
Quickly shift the sandy towel,
in order to hide my affection.

I cannot believe how graceful,
your skin ornaments your body.
I feel a Millwall supporter,
who drank himself fat and shoddy.

Around us the beach awakens.
The old, the fat, the young.
I admire the ass of this MILF,
a young boy yells he’s stung.

A beachbum tends to his wailing,
Russian drunks nearby nearly drown.
“Senor,” I point to the frantic East,
bolts a bandit fleeing tar and town

“Esmara would like some ice-cream.”
Her order, a sweetly packaged request.
A ripping fart as I rise from the sand,
the unexpected ones are always best.

One cone and one cup of goodness,
the misses feels free to choose.
Melting dairy on her cherry lips,
turns her beauty into breaking news.

Esmara licks her ice-cream,
the way a priest chants his blessing.
Once you’re under her spell,
there can be no second guessing.

I dabble my tows in the ocean,
but my feet are barely under.
Most people worship the Sun,
I welcome rain and thunder.

Mako The Poet

IV. Star / MILF (013.4)

MILF

I observe this charming brunette,
whose skirt has a neat clean fold.
She holds the hand of her husband,
sexual prowess hidden or on hold.

I remember her body at twenty,
an ass as fine as they come.
The first time I saw her naked,
her beauty left me feeling numb.

‘Do you have a condom?” she whispered.
When I was readily fully erect.
Barely contained I shook my head,
then she kicked me out of her bed.

I always wondered afterwards.
Had she not rejected my plight.
Angrily sped for my shoddy flat,
only to end up in a terrible fight.

Stabbed twice along the way,
nearly lost a lung and eye.
I smile at this gracious lady,
nod politely as she walks by.

Mako The Poet

V. Star / Esmara V (013.5)

Esmara V

You’re a dark feminine woman,
with a beautiful classical face.
The length of your body daunting,
you exude this fiery grace.

Your black hair askew in the middle,
flows and dances at shoulder length.
Your long legs round and firm,
express a remarkable inner strength.

Your symetrical boobs relaxing,
My fingers caress your face.
You murmer this funny expression…
“Casa Esmara está muy bueno place!“

Mako The Poet

VI. Star / Suffering (013.6)

Suffering

If suffering were a form of affection,
I’d feel loved like Helen of Troy.
Luckily I’m as brave as Achilles,
who liked to fight out of sheer joy.

Hector denounces my courage,
Fellowmen mock my ancient beard.
Defend myself in straight combat,
so what if I’m a little weird.

Poetry is my Achilles’ heel.
I sense deeper than others do.
Helen dances naked in front of me.
Sure… I wanna be more like you.

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [012.1] Dignitas
• [012.2] Silence
• [012.3] Esmara
• [012.4] Esmara II
• [012.5] Esmara III
• [012.6] They Feed the Machines

I. Dignitas / Dignitas (012.1)

Dignitas

It’s been a brutal brawling Easter.
Morning hails a hellhound force.
I stagger from bedroom to bathroom.
Life should’ve taken a different course.

After ending a bottle of whisky.
I should never’ve started with Gin.
Recall the sad look of Laphroaigh,
after tossing my darling in a bin.

My head is aching and pounding,
stomach tastes even more upset.
No eggs, no sausages, no bacon,
open Ladbrokes to wager a bet.

The room smells rather chaotic,
stench of puke and rotating light.
I grin at myself in the mirror,
at least I put my pants on right.

Mako The Poet

II. Dignitas / Silence (012.2)

Silence

When I was a startling young bud,
and my penis seemed only to pee.
Never did I dream of a career,
or someone else I needed to be.

I did not dream of race cars,
never imagined flying a plane.
I wondered about “Mein Kampf”,
and what had driven him insane.

Girls would write me silly notes,
eager to bless me with attention.
Although shy, I was funny and lively,
the elder girls would often mention.

Then this horrible acne emerged,
suddenly I felt this soaring shame.
Human contact made me awkward,
almost all my dreams seemed slain.

My body felt like my enemy.
My face a butcher’s serenade.
Pretty girls mean and derogatory,
I just couldn’t get myself laid.

This lasted until one summer.
Mad muscles replaced most pimples.
The girls returned in droves,
my cheeks regained their dimples.

‘What if that summer had never come?‘
‘Could I’ve survived feeling all alone?‘
I wonder about suffering in silence,
as my body makes your body moan.

Mako The Poet

III. Dignitas / Esmara (012.3)

Esmara

You wear skintight booty shorts,
I can read your proclivity in full.
I don’t mean the largess of your lips,
but the tenure that excites a bull.

“Father, will be pleased to see me,”
she proclaims with an innocent smile.
Wonder about her sanguine priest,
if I should follow him around for a while.

“Honey, your ass looks fat…”
I try to convince her to change.
Esmara assesses her sassy look,
like a sniper estimates his range.

Mako The Poet

IV. Dignitas / Esmara II (012.4)

Esmara II

You suck my penis gently,
while I read the morning paper.
I mention buying a Bentley,
you appear from under the draper.

“A Bentley?” you exclaim surprised,
“but you’re a poor lousy poet!“
She resumes sucking my penis.
‘Oh God, don’t I know it…’

Mako The Poet

V. Dignitas / Esmara III (012.5)

Esmara III

I’m worried about your mother,
she’s huge and lavishes her mind.
A heartily Samaritan to beggars,
even those she knows are not blind.

Your mother is twenty years older.
Demanding in appearance and sound.
Her eyes, her smiles, her hands,
every part of her moves around.

Your father a fiery character,
unforgiving to the point of a zealot.
His existence as a local butcher,
reminds me of the fate of a helot.

When we sit down at your family table,
it may appear an incommodious show.
but whenever I feel uncomfortable,
I bask in your warm loving glow.

Mako The Poet

VI. Dignitas / They Feed the Machines (012.6)

They Feed The Machines

An unexpected neon exuberance,
bedevils the dim railway station.
Caesar’s haul of Tigurini at Saone,
honors Rome’s prodigious creation.

When I enter onto the platform,
I bounce a happy hungry fret.
After weeks of empty mechanics,
the machines have finally been fed.

Mars, Bounty, Cadbury.
Crisps, sandwiches, candy.
I search my pockets for coinage.
Change rarely appeared this dandy.

“It never used to be like this…”
The coffee-cart steward proclaims.
And I know he’s about to spoil,
the second best thing after dames.

While I send a tum-tum to my tummy.
He starts about shipyards and coal.
When men were strong and fearless,
war and conquest their sacred goal.

Guzzle my chest full of cold Coke,
sermon burps summon sullen thought.
‘Did the machines destroy our soul?’
“Has the Internet left us naught?’

I make love to my bag of crisps,
I’m addicted to bacon flavor.
Observe this Iphone junkie,
whose clothing signals raver.

‘What do we feed the machines…‘
‘When it doesn’t concern packaged food?’
‘Are we turning ourselves into bacon?‘
To be chewed by machines that would.

‘Are we surrendering ourselves to AI?‘
The way pigs meet a farmer’s truck.
Is it me who controls the machines,
or am I a piglet straight out of luck?

I order me a sinew of coffee,
he points to the cardboard price.
I draw my wallet mechanically,
to hand him his part of the slice.

“You still don’t get it, do you?“
“They feed the machines our data…”
He turns his back towards me,
“maybe I’ll catch ya lata.”

Confused, I watch him leave.
Alarmed by what he just said.
‘Are machines becoming our master?‘
‘Will autonomous gods have us bled?‘

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [011.1] Gadfly
• [011.2] Hitman
• [011.3] Sane
• [011.4] Locomotive
• [011.5] Sing
• [011.6] Anoa
• [011.7] Mummy’s Hand

I .Gadfly / Gadfly (011.1)

Gadfly

There exist few things scarier,
than watching your toilet overflow.
Canoes approach the narrow edge,
ships caught in a violent show.

‘Did Xerxes cross the Hellespont twice?‘
‘Should a bowel be taught to sculp?‘
I’m about to learn some scary truths,
when I hear this mighty gulp.

The toilet flushes peaceful again.
Berlin Walz post World War II.
I pant and puke, wash my hands.
Let’s rock this godawful zoo.

Mako The Poet

II. Gadfly / Hitman (011.2)

Hitman

Morning expropriates relaxation,
some sheets and iron to clean.
Whatsapp about a dealer in Bogota,
this other punk I’ve never seen.

Some slick Latin motherfuckers,
balls bigger than the rest of mankind.
I decide its time for the dishes,
play some salsa to leisurely unwind.

I’m paid to clip and dust trash.
No obligations but to kill and fuck.
Swipe my pavement in anticipation,
until a drive-by ends my luck.

Mako The Poet

III. Gadfly / Sane (011.3)

Sane

Fries, Day TV and magazines,
black Lycra dangerously stretched.
Her behind at least two times twenty,
a skippyball sloppily sketched.

One knows a nation is doomed,
when obesity is considered healthy.
Wherever the aging deliberate,
the fat declare themselves wealthy.

A woman’s figure reclining,
used to mean the end of her reign.
To appropriate overweight being sexy,
is like Hitler declaring himself sane.

Mako The Poet

IV. Gadfly / Locomotive (011.4)

Locomotive

I sit at the railway station,
bench and power-bench combine.
Just finished some heavy lifting,
notice my euphoria decline.

I feel like a broken cylinder,
viewed from a race car perspective.
I was never one to go fast,
but rather steady and selective.

When this roaring bison approaches.
A locomotive without a train.
I’m stunned by its raw determination,
as it thunders past my brain.

Mako The Poet

V. Gadfly / Sing (011.5)

Sing

In an era of woke mediocrity,
dukes flaunt their leaks with despair.
Programmers build their fiefdom,
more cameras replace human care.

Jackasses and Jack Daniels,
mutually inclined to rebel.
Those driven to blog and tweet,
use their tits and ass to sell.

Lucky for me I’m a poet,
a reaper applauding rain.
Noise, neon, nonsense… fades,
once you enter my world of pain.

Means of exchange may evolve,
you can always count on one thing.
TikTok, Instagram, Facebook,
pretty girls will dance and sing.

Mako The Poet

VI. Gadfly / Anoa (011.6)

Anoa

You dance with your mouth wide open.
Eyes ecstatic paint a pale blue sky.
Your small breasts sweat an oasis.
Admired by dweebs and dwellers nearby.

Your body graceful and enchanting,
Your eyes flirt with the world undaunted.
You dance and sway and scream and yell,
I suddenly feel somewhat haunted.

Your exuberance makes me angry.
You’re in a place that I cannot reach.
I’m reminded of this old Presbyterian,
who died the day he could no longer preach.

Mako The Poet

VII. Gadfly / Mummy’s hand (011.7)

Mummy’s Hand

“Look mummy,” the little girl exclaims,
she points to a heavy bellied man,
who wrecked himself by the can.
“He’s pregnant of a baby!“

“Look mummy,” her mother slightly flushed.
she points to heavenly clouds,
I feel covered by CO2 – shrouds,
“the sky is wonderfully blue.”

“Look, mummy,” she giggles.
as she points to a funny nerd,
who’s only part of the herd.
“He has a phone like Daddy’s.”

“Mummy, I would like some candy.”
“Please… I’ll be really sweet.”
She looks at her mother loving,
who caves in sullen defeat.

“Mummy,” she munches happily.
“Holly’s brother pinched my arm.”
And I cannot help but smile,
at a young girl’s innocent charm.

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [010.1] Eden
• [010.2] The Death of a Prince
• [010.3] Bruise
• [010.4] Spiderman
• [010.5] Two Boys
• [010.6] Curls
• [010.7] Perspective
• [010.8] Aristocrat

I. Eden / Eden (010.1)

Eden

“The Hammer from Heaven,”
they called the swarming drones.
“The Glamour of Eden“,
was how they explained the clones.

Every human being had become a target.
To those who kept themselves in reserve.
Maybe I should’ve paid more attention,
when they sold their lies with verve.

A maniac can always be unmasked,
by the fact that he can’t handle truth.
A sociopath can only be discovered,
by the way he behaved in his youth.

Hitler was a strange exception,
he’d once been a good little boy.
But the loss of Edmund and his mother,
had turned him into the Devil’s toy.

Mako The Poet

II. Eden / The death of a Prince (010.2)

The death of a Prince

I admire this foreign black girl,
her smile as warm as the sun.
Chatting, moving, dancing about,
she brightens my day with her bum.

I exit the train at Norwich,
Coffee’s no longer allowed.
Afican chats up this blond girl.
To prove he’s well endowed.

A student girl draws my attention.
Engaged in some third-world relief.
Her pleasant smile and long bare legs,
convince me to care for their grief.

The weather is truly wonderful.
Its a warm and pleasant day.
Nikkie wears her booty shorts,
sluts ‘n slugs parade their play.

In the evening a Prince appears.
Purple eminence on every screen.
TAFKAP now rocks the heavens.
A musical genius left the scene.

Mako The Poet

III. Eden / Bruise (010.3)

Bruise

I’m having this wonderful dream,
three long legged women approach.
Kidnapped by their warm smiles,
I’m locked inside their coach.

We stop in front of this tavern,
peasants and pheasants drink wine.
Although we enter past midnight,
the room seems lit by moonshine.

“Can I buy you a beer, dear Mako?“
The brunette asks with a smile.
I look at her endless legs,
while I gulp my beer with guile.

“Can I bake you a stake, dear Mako?“
The long blond eagerly suggests.
She wiggles her upper body,
adjusting her beautiful breasts.

“We want to have a foursome...”
The licentious redhead implies.
Battle axes darken the tavern.
“Ssst… the wife sent her spies.”

Peta feeds me porridge pie.
Heidi massages my shoulder.
The giddy redhead drops to her knees,
in search of something bolder.

“Mako, wake up… WAKE UP!“
The brunette viciously smiles.
“You were mumbling about a tavern…”
Sudden fear inside me compiles.

“You mentioned something about spies…”
“Did you dream you were Tom Cruise?“
Disappointed I enter the bathroom.
Surprised to find a fresh bruise.

Mako The Poet

IV. Eden / Consul (010.4)

Consul

I have this spider in my kitchen,
that always pretends to be dead.
He tries to appear a victim,
hanging from a single thread.

His entire universe a cabinet,
controlled by me opening the door.
I was stunned to see him jump,
scramble onto the kitchen floor.

He now occupies a corner,
hides behind wood or a plant.
Weaves his web late at night,
when he hears fireflies chant.

Sometimes when i stir my kettle,
to poor myself a portly cup o’thee.
I can sense multiple mutinous eyes,
focussed on who this consul could be.

Mako The Poet

V. Eden / Two boys (010.5)

Two Boys

Two boys reach the top of the hill.
Both buggers turn their wheels around.
Enchanted they smile at each other,
when I hear this yelling sound.

“Eric!,” a running milf shouts.
Great ass, skirt above the knees.
I’ll be damned if they be damned,
Proud, we ignore mother’s pleas.

She almost makes it to the top,
but misses her accelerating son.
They both shoot past her like wolves,
to complete their exhilarating run.

The boys oblivious to danger,
each long to maximize their need.
I’m fascinated by their willingness,
to constantly increase their speed.

Eric struggles with mother’s scorn,
who curses him down the hill.
His buddy speeds off in the distance,
to brag about his very first kill.

Mako The Poet

VI. Eden / Curls (010.6)

Curls

I long to touch your long dark hair.

Your wild epitome sways aloud.
I love to see you sulk and pout.
The way you touch your hair devout.

Your smile an alluring mockingbird.

A cheerful expression of raunchy zest.
Your soft lining approaches my chest.
My breathing moves from curl to breast.

Your eyes radiant, smiling about.

We linger between frizzle and strain.
The smell of you touches my brain.
The warmth of you drives me insane.

Mako The Poet

VII. Eden / Perspective (010.7)

Perspective

From a toilet’s lewd perspective,
The sewer must appear a revelation.
Heaps and piles o’shit adrift,
on their way to a great destination.

Pub crawl, stubborn curry, stub surrender.
Lamb Vindaloo is the closest thing to hell.
Dry mouth, sore throat, bad headache,
aghast… I await it’s furious dispel.

Mako The Poet

VIII. Eden / Aristocrat (010.8)

Aristocrat

The pretense of a Queen and King,
is to be this truly extraordinary thing.
Their circle or servants bowing in awe,
vowing to bleed the rest of us raw.

But if a Queen and King are that special,
why are their castle walls so thick?
Because you and I both understand,
They’re little more but a cunt and a prick.

A king always descends from murderers,
a queen often bred by callous whores.
With an army, prisons and murderous zest,
they go about settling their scores.

Peasants burdened because they’re alive,
grim psychopath smiles at their face.
They bow and grovel and curse and toil,
such is the fate of the human race.

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [009.1] Moon
• [009.2] Clone
• [009.3] Mamochka
• [009.4] Human Nature
• [009.5] Alcibiades
• [009.6] Moth
• [009.7] Cookie

I. Moon / Moon (009.1)

Moon

I fucked a woman called “Moon“.
She had this stellar swing.
Her body enjoying Pink Floyd,
she did this incredible thing.

Plunged into this ancient song,
I felt torn between beauty and cum.
Her melody raw and haunting.
vanquished my spiritual numb.

Her voice became my body.
Her presence enveloped my mind.
Her essence entered my being,
in a manner both extatic and kind.

When I flew in every direction.
Overwhelmed by her affection.
I felt loved by Moon on Earth.
Kissed her thighs, for what it’s worth.

Mako The Poet

II. Moon / Clone (009.2)

Clone

If there were two of you,
would I love thee as I do?
Or prefer the one who’s easy?
Indulge you looking sleazy.

Would I listen to my balls…
“Time for a threesome, my dear!“
Would I address you both as one,
or have a pet name for each peer?

Shall I call you both peaches?
Or pumpkin and “sly-hot-pie“.
I’m feeling a little excited,
this cloning stuff makes me high.

Shall I keep grumpy you for weekdays,
eager you, uh her… for special nights.
Imagine watching Sunday soccer,
without nagging or birthday fights.

‘Oh my God, I need to find me twins!‘
Nature has already done the trick.
Slap myself on the forehead.
‘How could I’ve been so thick.’

But wait… what happens when we’re done.
Could I sleep with you on each side?
If both of you are angry with me,
would I still have a place to hide?

What if they try to steal my money?
Who would get what if we divorce?
Four sagging tits growing older…
Maybe I’ll let Nature run its course.

Mako The Poet

III. Moon / Mamochka (009.3)

Mamochka

I hate this German who is dead.
I despise that he ever existed.
Cringe as he kicks this child,
whom so desperately persisted.

An innocent little farmer boy,
cries out at the men at arms.
A soldier has taken his mother.
while burning surrounding barns.

“Mamochka!” he cries for his mother.
Runs as fast as his little legs carry.
Gunshot resonates through the plain.
Another enemy left to bury.

Mako The Poet

IV. Moon / Human Nature (009.4)

Human Nature

What serves to make a young girl pretty,
often makes her mother long for pity.
The tightness of her behind, firm and round.
Her awakening breasts, joyful and sound.

A girl inspects her naked body in the mirror.
A woman sees only her mother in the sun.
Both of them walking on the beach.
I assess their bosom and bum.

Women hate women who look beautiful.
Magicians saw pretty girls in half.
Once you truly understand their magic,
the best thing to do is grin or laugh.

Looks only lead to barefaced desire.
Manipulation ends up in eminent loss.
Pretty women may have their say,
but men will always remain the boss.

The thing to remember dear dreamers.
Young hopefuls who charge the old.
Some of you may encounter compassion,
but most of you we’ll treat stone cold.

Mako The Poet

IV. Moon / Alcibiades (009.5)

Alcibiades

Once I encountered this chameleon,
I just couldn’t grasp its color.
It moved from room to room,
sometimes brighter, sometimes duller.

But when I followed it around,
it noticed and changed to a tree.
When I grabbed it by the neck,
it suddenly looked a lot like me.

Its eyes bulged in every direction,
an enormous tongue slapped my face.
So sudden its unexpected appearance,
that I failed to give it chase.

Mako The Poet

V. Moon / Moth (009.6)

Moth

I had to take a dump,
right before I left.
Saw this little creature,
spent his life bereft.

In muddy damp conditions,
a toilet of its choice.
How strange its violent death,
touched a poet’s voice.

His body sullenly crushed,
what sparing memories remain.
Of little creatures’ lives,
that end a bathroom stain.

Mako The Poet

VI. Moon / Cookie (009.7)

Cookie

I’m adrift in a railway station,
Old man shuffles through the place.
Fisherman’s jacket and black cap,
suffering etched on his grim face.

Tends to this silver wrapped cookie.
Trembling hands evoke my despair.
Finally his tar stained fingers.
Behold their treasure with care.

I watch him enjoy the brown cookie.
Crumbling approach of his last meal.
I’m struck by this heartfelt emotion,
compassion I guess is what I feel.

I buy him another cookie.
Sit down and listen to his life.
Stories about grownup children,
how he recently lost his wife.

We greet each other from a distance.
Neptune and a poet by the shore.
Drowned in the arms of a mermaid,
how could any sailor ask for more.

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [008.1] Grand
• [008.2] Death of the Great Barrier Reef
• [008.3] Statesmen
• [008.4] Cherry Ganz
• [008.5] Morning
• [008.6] Libera te tutemet

I. Grand / Grand (008.1)

Grand

I once stood close to a coffee machine,
that gave me an instant erection.
It wasn’t the cup or colorful taste,
that evoked such deep affection.

Two sassy classy beautiful girls,
stood side-by-side from behind.
A mini-skirt with endless legs,
the other a bum rare to find.

I knew them both as colleagues,
not yet familiar with my good taste.
With a grin I moved towards them,
only to trip over a bucket of waste.

I tried to grab the short one,
who shrieked somewhat taken aback.
The long one toppled sideways,
her mouth and coffee on my sack.

That’s when I realized my destiny,
was not to be mediocre or bland,
but to meddle with the affairs of others,
to make this world truly grand.

Mako The Poet

II. Grand / Death of the Great Barrier Reef (008.2)

Death of the Great Barrier Reef

Half its infinite beauty and joy dead.
What remains, drowns in acute acid dread.
Billions of creatures wallop in despair.
Why does the Spirit of Humanity not care?

They have no knowledge of human beings.
How ignorance and arrogance conjoin in deceit.
Who will grieve the Great Barrier Holocaust?
When most don’t even care about their own feet.

Grandeur among us in decine and… dying.
Earth, water, heavens roar in despair.
All we do is build more nihilist barriers,
between the hopeless and those who do not care.

Mako The Poet

III. Grand / Statesman (008.3)

Statesman

Burly women smile their warm regard.
They understand that I too feel fat.
Whenever I walk among public crowds.
I’m a gentleman in need of a hat.

This strenuous disposition towards my body.
How dilapidating life’s presumptuous game.
Greeting and nodding I enter my front door.
An elderly statesman with an obese frame.

Mako The Poet

IV. Grand / Cherry Ganz (008.4)

Cherry Ganz

Rough Harley raiders enter the stratum.
Corrosive jackets on their way to hell.
Cherry Ganz breathes guns and violence.
His ruthlessness an unassailable spell.

Once an angry boy on a trike.
Now he runs his chapter through fear.
His struggles with law and order,
only serve to bring his brothers near.

Cherry killed his youth and a young man,
when this hustler spat on the ground.
He could never recall the wounds inflicted,
but they mentioned “worst ever found…”

Today the sun felt scorching,
but heat always crossed their path.
He enters the saloon a leader,
orders a scathing whisky bath.

His boots and gun three bullets short.
A traitor snuffed along the way.
Lanky brunette enters the bathtub,
she smiles when it’s time to play.

Mako The Poet

V. Grand / Morning (008.5)

Morning

Anovulance bids you a messy affair.
I’m staring at a wedding postponed.
You pout and dabble your makeup flair.
Reclaim me wholeheartedly owned.

I hate to be with women in the morning.
When so much of their magic seems lost.
What appeared spectacular breasts.
Now emerge at a wonderbra’s cost.

A woman leaves much to be desired.
Especially once you’ve rattled her bones.
Her whimsical palate of emotions,
a sly barter with high interest loans.

Sums can be summoned whenever.
Their incessant need for talk and trust.
While nagging about her girlfriends,
neither includes nakedness nor thrust.

Mako The Poet

VI. Grand / Libera te tutemet (008.6)

Libera te tutemet

I remember you used to clean the house.
White tiles would blink to the blind.
Now a little grey robot swirls around.
doesn’t shriek when I grab its behind.

Machines are becoming more capable,
yet reason seems to’ave lost its way.
The “awoken” vast asleep at the helm,
spout fairy–tale nonsense all day.

All men must be women or weak.
Woman must fuck strangers strong.
“White men are the Devil incarnated!“
Lunatics sing and dance along.

Police, a monster created by evil.
Common sense, a process of mere thought.
‘What if I just kill the robot?‘
and stop being the bullshit I bought…

Mako The Poet

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Table of Content:

• [007.1] Battle
• [007.2] Courage
• [007.3] Aggrevated
• [007.4] Ambush
• [007.5] Empire
• [007.6] April

I. Battle / Battle (007.1)

Battle

I like to lick your nostrils,
several seconds after I cum.
When your sweaty glistening body,
leaves your naked essence numb.

When exasperated breathing,
tries to grasp a primal thought.
Like a warrior outnumbered in battle,
fighting far beyond he ought.

“Oh my god darling,” you whisper elated.
“What in heaven‘s name did we just do?“
‘Well, I survived another battle…‘
What did all of this mean to you?

Mako The Poet

II. Battle / Courage (007.2)

Courage

Your morning mood a subterranean snake-pit.
Eerily silence covers the foreboding strike.
Somewhat comparable to Medieval knights,
first encountering the merciless Swiss pike.

Too accustomed to grasp its true meaning,
they bluntly chose not to comprehend.
Their heroic armor blatantly pierced,
by what a blacksmith failed to defend.

When you’re struck by a vicious blow,
an unsuspecting inflammatory remark.
Stand in battle alongside your brother,
or risk being slaughtered in the dark.

Mako The Poet

III. Battle / Aggrevated (007.3)

Aggrevated

The lets-pretend-and-be-fake-crew,
approaches someone they once knew.
“How are we doing on this beautiful day?“
I slap her face in an embroidered way.

She looks rather stunned but recovers her poise.
“Happiness, is all about making the right choice…“
I pull out a gun and shoot her in the face.
Hmm… maybe she’s right about the nature of this place.

Mako The Poet

IV. Battle / Ambush (007.4)

Ambush

Bullets pierce the front window,
Blood flows from driver to seat.
How strange to feel your body burst,
like badly butchered meat.

I try to reach for my handgun,
but the bullets surpass a dozen.
‘Kalashnikov,‘ I mechanically note,
as I look at the face of my cousin.

His body sprayed onto the dashboard.
He tries to scream with a smile.
I guess we’re just a statistic,
destined to bleed for a while.

Mako The Poet

V. Battle / Empire (007.5)

Empire

Wipe my sweaty oily fingers,
on the inside of my pockets.
Just finished my fish and chips,
salt and vinegar tweak my sockets.

Stained grey paper; Marlboro tar.
I swipe my toast with Marmalade jar.
Finish off with a brisk black tea.
No wonder England once ruled the sea.

Mako The Poet

VI. Battle / April (007.6)

April

Your mouth shaped like a vagina,
Your body welcoming and bright.
I love to watch you serenade,
the beauty of dreaming at night.

The flocculent lines of your being.
You’re aloof in charming ways.
Your voice dazzling and derelict,
when we touch in loving embrace.

You dream and whisper my name.
Sounds like I forgot to do some chore.
Gently kiss your warm soft lips,
how could any man ask for more?

Mako The Poet

–

The timeless Wisdom of John Locke, the Father of Liberalism and Profound Guardian of the Rights of the Human Individual:

“All men by nature are equal in that equal right that every man hath to his natural freedom, without being subjected to the will or authority of any other man; being all equal and independent, no one ought to harm another in his life, health, liberty or possessions.”

“Every man has a property in his own person. This nobody has a right to, but himself.”

“I have no reason to suppose that he, who would take away my Liberty, would not when he had me in his Power, take away everything else.”

“Liberty is to be free from restraint and violence from others.”

“Whoever uses force without Right … puts himself into a state of War with those, against whom he uses it, and in that state all former Ties are canceled, all other Rights cease, and every one has a Right to defend himself, and to resist the Aggressor.”

“Whenever legislators endeavor to take away and destroy the property of the people, or to reduce them to slavery under arbitrary power, they put themselves into a state of war with the people, who are thereupon absolved from any further obedience.”

“Revolt is the right of the people.”

“Individuals have a right to defend themselves and recover by force what by unlawful force is taken from them.”

“Wherever Law ends, Tyranny begins.”

“The power of the legislative, being derived from the people by a positive voluntary grant and institution, can be no other than what that positive grant conveyed, which being only to make laws, and not to make legislators, the legislative can have no power to transfer their authority of making laws, and place it in other hands.”

“A liberty to follow my own will in all things where that rule prescribes not, not to be subject to the inconstant, uncertain, unknown, arbitrary will of another man, as freedom of nature is to be under no other restraint but the law of Nature.”

“In transgressing the law of nature, the offender declares himself to live by another rule than that of reason and common equity”

“Any single man must judge for himself whether circumstances warrant obedience or resistance to the commands of the civil magistrate; we are all qualified, entitled, and morally obliged to evaluate the conduct of our rulers. This political judgment, moreover, is not simply or primarily a right, but like self-preservation, a duty to God. As such it is a judgment that men cannot part with according to the God of Nature. It is the first and foremost of our inalienable rights without which we can preserve no other.”

“So that, in effect, religion, which should most distinguish us from beasts, and ought most peculiarly to elevate us, as rational creatures, above brutes, is that wherein men often appear most irrational, and more senseless than beasts themselves.”

“The end of law is not to abolish or restrain, but to preserve and enlarge freedom. For in all the states of created beings capable of law, where there is no law, there is no freedom.”

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Table of Content:

• [006.1] Pythia
• [006.2] Princess
• [006.3] Achilles
• [006.4] Bucephalus
• [006.5] Thais

I. Pythia / Pythia (006.1)

Pythia

A blueish intrepid angel.
Heavenly eyes and all.
She looks in my direction,
leads me to her fall.

“Isn’t this beautiful?” she whispers.
A rainbow brightens her stream.
Paradise in the morning light.
‘Is this real or just a dream?’

Water falls from the mountain.
Returns to the river below.
She jumps into the pool naked.
Unfazed by winter and snow.

Torn between age and beauty.
I long to follow her lead.
‘Nothing in excess‘, Pythia whispers.
It pains me to acknowledge her heed.

Mako The Poet

II. Pythia / Princess (006.2)

Princess

You gaze, a lonely flower.
At the army that approaches.
Voices, horses, dust, stench.
You stamp on several roaches.

Spring has finally awakened.
A time when the powerful assemble.
Princess lisps the ivory girdle,
her world’s about to tremble.

Chastity encompasses her virtue.
Until big black canons arrive.
Balls pound the narrow gateway,
“Save your daughters and wife!”

Heathens stream onto the courtyard.
In search of those willing to beg.
She can’t be bothered to cook me a meal,
whips up an omelet instead.

Mako The Poet

III. Pythia / Achilles (006.3)

Achilles

A fallen hero is never sad,
but a poet sometimes cries.
Is it better to embrace ecstasy?
Or a fate where strength just dies.

How quickly youth and time fade.
How eager the ancient fall.
Countless dead on the battlefield.
Who will heed Achilles’ call?

Mako The Poet

IV. Pythia / Bucephalus (006.4)

Bucephalus

My favorite word is sunshine,
followed by pasture and suckle.
Sword and shield don’t mean to be bad,
just try to be cool like knuckle.

Elephants and Chariots both charging,
I think of chicken and chuckle.
Great and greed accompany my lead.
So let’s end with Bucephalus and buckle.

Mako The Poet

V. Pythia / Thais (006.5)

Thais

“Burn it down,” she whispers.
“Burn Persepolis to the ground.”
Alexander beholds his Companions,
before he gradually turns around.

“Why would I burn this city?”
“A jewel to my crown…”
His deference for the Persians.
Makes some among them frown.

“They desecrated the Acropolis.”
“You must become Hellas’ wrath.”
Oh to nobly conquer the known world,
only to encounter Thais on your path.

Mako The Poet

–

The timeless Wisdom of James Monroe, Fifth President of the United States:

“How prone all human institutions have been to decay; how subject the best-formed and most wisely organized governments have been to lose their check and totally dissolve; how difficult it has been for mankind, in all ages and countries, to preserve their dearest rights and best privileges, impelled as it were by an irresistible fate of despotism.”

“It is only when the people become ignorant and corrupt, when they degenerate into a populace, that they are incapable of exercising their sovereignty. Usurpation is then an easy attainment, and a usurper soon found. The people themselves become the willing instruments of their own debasement and ruin. Let us, then, look to the great cause, and endeavor to preserve it in full force. Let us by all wise and constitutional means promote classical education, public debate, and a strengthening of courage, character and wit among the brightest of people as the best means of preserving our liberties.”

“We must defend our rights or lose our character, and with it, perhaps, our liberties.”

“If it was wise, manly, and patriotic for us to establish a free government, it is equally wise to attend to the necessary means of its preservation.”

“The best form of government is that which is most likely to prevent the greatest sum of evil.”

“The right of self-defense never ceases. It is among the most sacred, and alike necessary to nations and to individuals.”

“The mention of Ancient Greece fills the mind with the most exalted sentiments and arouses in our bosoms the best feelings of which our nature is capable.”

“Republics demand virtue. Monarchies may well rely on coercion and “dazzling splendor” to suppress self-interest or factions; republics rely on the goodness and good will of its citizenry to put aside selfishness and private interest for the betterment of the public good. Therefore it should be deemed beneficiary to instill a Historical Reference of Ancient Greece and Rome within the hearts and minds of future generations.”

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Table of Content:

• [005.1] Dilettante
• [005.2] Really
• [005.3] Sorrow
• [005.4] Name
• [005.5] The Cold Shoulder
• [005.6] Seduction

I. Dilettante / Dilettante (005.1)

Dilettante

I’m always richer than Reality,
more than what numbers proclaim.
I’m breathing, seething and self aware,
indifferent to money and fame.

Men cannot influence my decisions.
Women barely touch my heart.
I walk this world a dilettante.
What a wonderful beautiful part.

Mako The Poet

II. Dilettante / Really (005.2)

Really

Your face unsuited for spectacles,
flaunts your body prim and proud.
Your hair appears dry and lanky,
with a perm that speaks aloud.

You have really, REALLY big breasts.
The kind that makes a woman cry.
I have to admit that while staring,
I can barely keep it dry.

Mako The Poet

III. Dilettante / Sorrow (005.3)

Sorrow

You hold a heart shaped balloon,
but you’re at least twenty years old.
I’m bothered by Climate Change,
today feels unusually cold.

You’re definitely not innocent,
I can tell by the tone of your voice.
I may need to change my lifestyle,
but it feels like staging a choice.

Turns out you bought it for your niece.
Whom you’re bound to meet tomorrow.
I wonder if humanity will last,
my heart abound with sorrow.

Mako The Poet

IV. Dilettante / Name (005.4)

Name

You give me this furious look,
the kind I know is going to hurt.
You move your ass onto the bedside.
Still crying, you pull up your skirt.

“You don’t even remember my name!“
You’re gone before my witty reproach.
I stare at the Renoir on my ceiling.
‘Maybe it’s time to hire a French coach…’

Mako The Poet

V. Dilettante / The Cold Shoulder (005.5)

The Cold Shoulder

Your posture a martyr with pink shoes.
Silence provides me with sufficient clues.
You’re still angry I was drunk last night.
You’re still upset that I refused to fight.

I know that when your lips are smudged.
And you knot your hair like a nun.
It’s time for me to contemplate my sins.
To be at your side without fun.

Mako the Poet

V. Dilettante / Seduction (005.6)

Seduction

Blond sits opposite to me.
I feel too tired to greet.
Her phone and body aloud,
with multitasking heat.

She talks to a distant girlfriend.
Flirts with a boy to her right.
Plays with curls and smiles,
while she surveys muscular might.

Done with chest and back training.
I really, really don’t care.
All I need is protein and bananas.
Then… she reveals no underwear.

Mako The Poet

–

The timeless Wisdom of Alexander Hamilton:

“A sacred respect for the constitutional law is the vital principle, the sustaining energy of a free government.”

“Why has government been instituted at all? Because the passions of man will not conform to the dictates of reason and justice without constraint.”

“Experience teaches, that men are often so much governed by what they are accustomed to see and practice, that the simplest and most obvious improvements… are adopted with hesitation, reluctance, and slow gradations.”

“When a government betrays the people by amassing too much power and becoming tyrannical, the people have no choice but to exercise their original right of self-defense — to fight the government and change it ways.”

“Man is either governed by his own laws – constituting freedom – or the laws of another – embodying slavery. Are you willing to become slaves? Will you give up your freedom, your life and your property without a single struggle?”

“No man has a right to enslave his fellow creatures.”

“Government is frequently and aptly classed under two descriptions – a government of force, and a government of laws; the first is the definition of despotism – the latter, one of liberty.”

“Good constitutions are formed upon a comparitive balance between the liberty of the individual with the strength of government: If the tone of either be too high, the other will be weakened too much. It is the happiest possible mode of conciliating these objects, to institute one branch peculiarly endowed with sensibility, another with knowledge and firmness. Through the opposition and mutual interaction of these bodies, the government will reach, in its regular operations, a solid balance between liberty and power.”

“Every individual of the community at large has an equal right to the protection of government.”

“The practice of arbitrary imprisonment has been, in all ages, the favorite and most formidable instrument of tyranny.”

“The people alone have an incontestable, unalienable, and indefeasible right to institute government and to reform, alter, or totally change the government when their protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness require it.”

“A struggle for liberty is in itself respectable and glorious… when conducted with magnanimity, justice and humanity, but if sullied by crimes and extravagancies, will quickly lose its forceful respectability.”

“Civil liberty is only natural liberty, modified and secured by the sanctions of civil society. It is not a thing, in its own nature, precarious and dependent on human will and caprice; but it is conformable to the constitution of man, as well as necessary to the well-being of society.”

“There may be in every government a few choice spirits, who may act from more worthy motives but one grevious error in our judgement of mankind is that we often suppose human beings more honest than they are. Human Nature’s strongest impulses are self-preservation, ambition and greed.”

“Man is a reasoning rather than a reasonable animal.”

“Foreign influence is truly the Grecian horse to a republic. We cannot be too careful to exclude its influence.”

“It is of the greatest consequence that (public) debt should be remoulded into such a shape as will bring the expenditure of the nation at par with its income.”

“Nothing can more affect national prosperity than a constant and systematic attention to extinguish the present debt and to avoid as much as possibly the incurring of any new debt.”

“A feeble executive implies a feeble execution of the government. A feeble execution is but another phrase for a bad execution; and a government ill executed, whatever may be its theory, must be, in practice, a bad government.”

“Real liberty is never found in despotism or the extremes of democracy, but in moderate governments.”

“It’s not tyranny we desire; it’s a just, limited, federal government.”

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