[ video mode: 8o by 5o ] [ use page up and page down to scroll ] NOTICE This book is shared only under the condition that it will be copied without the removing of its imprints, nor in a crippled way, nor with mires to plagiarize any of the names of: persons, groups, systems, networks or meetings. Poems from this books may be used for whatever literary or advertising end, but after receiving a written proof of the author's consent only. No true person is named in the book. Still some events, circumstances and peoples are pictures after taking ins- piration from actual incidents and persons. --- Soft Ways of Fairnes --- by Guha Kovi Conflations and swellings of mottled blobs and nuggets ever knit. The sylph and I are passing under the giant trees and the crystalline ponds directly to our retired mansion---our beloved castle four our day of first-class, homely and sacred love. I Tell she: "All this is for higher hearts." But ironically freezing, "For Life" is the great subject. Holographic House ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My lissome mommy and I were sauntering by "Ygan" -"Now we are going to The Flunky Home" she said and went to some upper level, letting me there, at the affluent hall of the gorgeous supermarket like a hangar---lofty, mercantile yet delicate. So near the elevator there was a bookstand stunned I've felt the literary hullabaloo of kids, anew, like in bygone sienna morns. Sedulous and quick survey of the oodles of books. And I have found one that lured me: its cover a gravedigger shoveling at the top of a mound. And ma bought it for me---We leave "The Flunky Home" -"Do not tease others with it" she advised me. Again in the street---She entered a store spring dusk---I stood lingering for the weighty moment... You! I wasn't a cherub neither a geared carcass I behold the "Raising of the Houze" and its dashes that somehow blended with the flavors of October. Vinya, moppish, at the buffet-froyd shop, nipping the Pessoas. F O A M S ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Over a lea in the hills, in the verdurous plateaus and balconies, under a sky wise of scholastic eruditions, in the midst of some singular breeze stands the "Memento of Rebecca" it is a golden nub standing in the upper part of the forehead and to the west my ideal: she's a northern ethereal princess, and I know she is a poet, like a secular Polyhymnia. She is a zillion years old, although she looks like a girl. She, the endless owner of the splendor of a bard-goddess. The emblematic and serene shaman disguised as a freelance under a host of searing quoits that lingers defending the small an lotus-like figure who is sitting in a lotus posture. He comes from the west. To the east one more vortex of modem- land, it's the entrance to a labyrinthic underground habitat that allows the proliferation of text-artz modding* and e-publishing plots. This for the right eye, while the left one, crying eyebrow a river that enters his ringlets and crawls through the summer blasts, it flows up towards some isolated mounts which are the bases of a colossal macrocosm that looks like a sort of gigantic icicle; on its summit diverse megalopolis repose luminaries issue from its verge ---it is rooted in his hair by the idle sign of "Union in creation" Parodic and shady Moldy kindred ghosts ---for the horizon the gleamings. The constellation of frozen firkins read "wAREZ*"; "zERO-ONE dAYZ* / bOXES* / LiBRARiES and rELiX" Sweat is dripping from the forehead ---Through the boundary between the plains and the prairie. In the cheek: raving beauties of recent hairdos and piercings on their fair faces; tattoos, too. ---They display top and dresses of psychedelic motives and tones ---a little to the southwest: the nose, foppish, starchy witness of sonnets, haikus, odes and dithyrambs. Further to the west, in the right cheek more of the fresh drums, this others read: "pD" "H/P/V* / cHiPTUNES* / diGiTAL aRTZ" and "jUAREz" The mouth ---a paw and southward to the chin a female sooth-sayer a female model a female religion-reformer ---and here is the sweat that falls from the brow, tracing it upwards we found a godlike yoguini, she is sitting in lotus posture, her seraphic Elysian splendor is authentic, seeing her big, felicitous aura, which beams ruthful oscillations. The true is that the progressive sylph's pervasion is unavoidable yet essential, along with the oft inexhaustible vista of a new lotus eyed raving beauty or like the gone ambience of the environs, the breath- taking and utmost gracefulness of the para-solish Jesus' female follower... Former flau is meditating on top of a vaulted rock, and drums: "H/P/V/A" over sharp ices. This in the left portion, while to the west is seen a comb inserted in his blonde virya, not affecting the cheeks that swell florid. Lastly, the visage is propped on a profuse and shiny wad of chestnut, unsullied hair. Do you feed your catwalk? the switch glitters wild adamant headways. Blotto ~~~~~~ One day my posters absent ---Thrown away ---Great drop which dispersing replenished my brimming cup. Gessoes of evenings mopping that we don't conceive nor attend, up to now ---The lotus elf vamooses by the level escalator, past the restaurants with lobbies where I see the making of hot-cross buns on the dangling monitors near the clock and the cascades of the wish fountains which bear dozen of dimes that the lads and gals have thrown. But lets hold this in decorous reverence * * * Playing with Brother Cauldron in the kid's library, in the Saturday eve when I've found the cute chinese or japanese volume of the three dimensional, dainty adventures of the lotus doll ---Her jet-black straight hair and her lotus face among the doll-things of her doll-scaled-house. First chinoserie of my life of thousands of them. Slapdash ---I brand Cauldron's eye with the soiled rim of a toy-telescope. - the mawkish skies and the unforeseen shrouds. - Vachpokes ~~~~~~~~~ The runny cowboys entranced basking they dig the stalls and they say: -"An amok on the clouds and of varying flights..." Flowing the gaunt, jilted and forlorn corrals. Parrying exultant, stagy by copings of yesteryear. I have seen the collars and the expensive sneakers, cotton socks of Scottish style---the denim trousers? higher lapels, to denote a kind of modern veneer. Like us, more or less the city's youth-hood tribes sects or ghetto-dwells---ragas leisure vehicles. I scavenging in search of worthy metals to vend... For the air hassocks of my imported sneakers! They'd winds of Dresden on the pads, for running faster. And series of little islets in a lilac ocean The Even Rani and I cuddle, dart and fly over it. Crowds go flocking, conclusively a carmine kepis. Gladsome and rejoicing synods on ole evenings. The censor in his rickety and obnoxious journey; Tipsy---Evaporating cinemas, we've stamped on them. Acquainted with the jinx bestowed when taking facts from a defunct person's life? very original punx: I can feel just a sulky ruth for what occurred... Secular flies*, meaning with the captious kicks; Succulent libations with the calm princess maggot ere froth wassails of the iniquity in bacchanalia or, perhaps, aleatory uprisings, riots, revolts? Sirens of the night raped. A naga Karkatcho has fawned---Nothing. Forget it. Leave it alone. Oblivion. I saw them! like glazed gauchos in the restopus bars... Circulating---Groks of all profligate puberties The rabid irrelevance of the arts and the players and summers enduring tingling fleabites on my heels. Bumpkintrix at the OS---a ping-pong of zip guns. Night, bizarrely alone, load and Jason decapitates the player, a parade of trainer arts on the tapes classics for kids and interactive books, on shelves. Who is in the quaint manor of the valley melting? Is it the child catsup drinking that could not go to the labors day act? Adulate---ungenerous asterisks mutts, stately mints. Novel Saint cults and arts; Four culled warnings: Grottos, burrows, dens and lairs. The initial enterprise is for the green mask (Innocent, erratic reflexes of the Ganges Descent...) Peptic arts and playful hikes. Petulant---Petards The hyacinths pass lull, noctivagant and evasive and return---Crepuscular and gritty bygones. The universal "cHURCH oF tHE sKATEBOARD" has come to us. Spilling we had it---of the type of affair one never forgets---Surely it was the season we used to slide by the modern and ample streets of our town: grim, dusty but super urbane---The edge of the city where all is gory and easygoing. The litter gobs: the kiosk "Hacha Pukka" the daisies stage, off coffer the panoply of notorious, multifolding hypocrites yet, with some of the gentle food true credulity only us. All in the hills of vitreous barbicans. Girding up, viaducts, pagodas and beads---we don't notice. "Bearing Ishi---she was on the bottle..." Mad kin Thor The bucket was really freezing and what is more, more barren and rosy: the payasas of the wayfarers. Silaz-Senior at "Blatant Arcade". The glazed spruced formidable resounding by countless dazzlments calamities---pitiful vigils---the forays and goblets of the centriphugalia---the mushy, rhomboid ceilidhs. Slabbing in the barn: stanchions of lapis, polymers ricochet. iN tHe VeiLeD SyCaMoReS oF MY TeNDeRNeSS Deep frozen Reverie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Daybreak - As she dresses, she speaks tome lovingly of the restored gaps of farness: -"...so I always will forward the tape till self-denial is achieved..." she says. * * * A sanguinary riot begins we're putting the jingoes out of the way. The sunrise dripping a vertigo of staffs, maces nightsticks and darts, even Quarterstaffs and boomerangs fluctuating euphonically War cries - drums pulsating. * * * Big crispy pineapple snows and sodas - the truffle shows and the nachos - the enchiladas the cheese boards and tostadas the tacos - burritos with a dessert of sundaes, halvahs or shakes or fruit? and mommy is screaming from the veranda: "Hey kid! do not forget your viand!" the lavish tin lunch box that's filled with bagels and flavorful strudels. Daymares ~~~~~~~~ After awakening I had to make up my mind to defy all the obnoxious leeches ---Peoples that only fade towards abject perdition. And who never were, never are or will be, not even a foe worth of my rage. My experience when a child at eight, savage oppressors pseudo-inside. And paradoxically entertaining crack of doom in the outside, to relish to consume, let's decry: The autographed slippers in the feet of bow legged blistered, abused bodies blunt, voracious, twisted callous, pretending, emasculated multifolding personalities occupied in anodyne, pesky toils of giving more and more and more to their vile, impecunious, comfortless ugly and nule relatives. Lets return them the shameful little miseries that they've done. Resentful, covetous, greasy hypocrite, dusty, ostracized like virulent scoriae. While for us the beauty and youth embraces... but they have to be unctuous and controlled! their crowded toilettes, but I will snub them dryly or the blood of their grandmas where I sink their mutts to new flavors and how wickedly gregarian are their darned tiny existences. Till doomsday and beyond sadly retaining their monotone and destitute positions. They're scheduled disabled for great future events that they envy. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - For Minerva! At last I have noted how others abhorred me since I am an innocent child that is secured for exquisitely grateful and ritzy prospects - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - And the filthy chat/ arrowhead of the golem its monkey in the bridge praising scrupulous sisters is just a wombat excavating! It's only a disturbing beast with an undecided feeling for searing charoots of outcast and endemic sputums Oafly, she falls by the uptight dog. We know her unfilled animosities. Groggy, indigent dolts trying to gull it remotely from among the clods and other earthly jinx... How disowned claimants they where! Dragged through the mud, untitled Simi and sully endlessly and sadly deposed dunces. All they've done in their rancor of envious impotence will be retorted. Alas! Their maggot like beings will sooner or later make them rise in animalia. Ergonomic decks--- Skateboards will reform and damage you. A scene ~~~~~~~ In fays, computers and assemblies afterwards the monkey duchess chaperone awakened bimbos likewise---fairies conjuration of pixies, sprites, houris naiads, those never burnish it, still they always opt, win and gather the harvest The format bless you... shivers, in the adjacent cornucopia. come along and visit a wild... Hazes ~~~~~ Regarding my origins in the modem milieux, I can recall I've taken it after my first love affair, at sixteen all bleak idiosyncrasies were forced aside, because of my darling, we were very lucky on never being caught at making love in sheltered spots of several public places. So I had to forget the girl if I wanted to escape, my flame was burning vicious and gloomy I've begun to take five meals per day, the last always was at midnight. And in this early days I have became robust. I've installed some warez*. First night buzzing the brand-new whirr. At first my attraction was mostly for the electronic zines ---For they showed me the existence of an eclectic, recondite scene where the data is the life. Poor alienated boy! The inspirations this periodicals produced on me were large. There were nights of garnering and opening ---admiring and sifting the manifold eldritch glossies by the "sWARMs oF oSiRis" squad. Or the brisk and intense spring night in my pal's house using his terminal for leeching all the "sAVEd cONCEPTiOn cREATiONs". ---Tenterhooks for the euphonious compressed e-riches arriving. ---Lots of subterranean bits. So and so my appeal for the board scene begins. Ripped-off adverts of my adolescence... Exacting a preconfigured for the elito-lad's finesse: fast e-migration ---My system is evolving ---too "uLE/k" My first steps as a sys-god. The Avant-garde and insurgent nature of my first board was markedly superior to the varied myriads of boards in the formal system's directory. Nighttime ---sharing environments with able beeps the pager yells it's Aloha, he wants to swap texts games, compilers and editors. I can see ---Civilized cyber-hobos of the hermetic night. Fays, frosty foyers sophisticate rendezvous for not spending the night at home living it at nineteen ---Glory the class of improved high life that the unrefined hoi polloi envy and don't have (never have) Going on vacations ---and letting the board with the auto-answer* enabled. ---Who can figure what will happen on it during the days of my nonprescence? Surely not I ---because I am having diversion on the mountains. On returning ---The feedback bulks Disembarking ---I list ---Awaiting the coming back of my crony, the distinguished lotus damsel who is the apple of my eye. ---She comes! I witness the multimedia Nereid in her unhesitating cruise by the matrices and the menus ---Again, as always, making a night of it ---"The doldrums of your absence and Tensegrity for the topics of our chat of deep waters of a wine-dark sea. Belles mass-producing in endless progressions of their machines. On conferences, we brew a homemade network. Finally "vISIONARY hOTBEAD" The privy and solid network starts; with "The Flitting Tyke" as its hub owned by the very same Sleevy U. Tyke, the renowned Consultant and bawdy programmer. The twenty-three glacial forums of underground, clandestine and alternative discussions plus portly file transfers as well. Bearing in mind how is to bask on folding, tabular reeds of the perilous, fluxing non-stop n.u.v.s*, but there where n.u.ps for foppish systems that were inaccessible; like "hEIMDALL" or "tARDY liNK" this latter being "pOLEAx"'s headquarter; or the elite "hOBBLiNg cRANk" a distro-site for the tip-top releases of "fRiGg tECHNOLOGiEs" A cold as marble summer night, when Leeching* [VALiD] and packs.. Estival auroras relishing all the pieces on those bundles and how ironic, I remember the advert of "hOMBi" the board it's an indigo hued face. (Workers at the assembly line) Walks among yuppie crowds in the Bs.As Macro downtown; bulky milk shakes relishing experience. Modern buses, new-fashioned phone booths, plottered* signs and compu marts. Remote and mellifluous night when I saw the two extremes one was geeks in the dark and I saw it truly clearly hedonists in the halcyon days was the other ---I mean the techies and the e-craftsmen sharing skills in a profound and precise scene. The lofty digital uplands. Memorable and overruling cliques. Meet in a Friday of assembly ---beer, pipes and the gleeful denial to some reporter's offering to interview me for Sunday's newspaper ---The pierced faces of the hackers... on tables with steaming ashtrays, manuals palm-tops, hard-drives and cellulars. As for the yearly meeting ---The scener round-up crowds of fanatics undulate to the masks and me ---the predictive reverie of the night before the prelude to the "Alike Panel Scene-party". Going and remaining on it for four days; four derivative, turbid days of demos display gaming networking, sharing and attending compos the sack naps ---The familiar electronic duos or trios of Dee-jays and singers, performing concerts in intimate afternoon feats. ---The skeins join in a quick maneuver to put in a a shape of Nandisa*, it lasts three wondrous seconds. The silver blob that flits through the soft pathways of the dangling canals until it reaches the mosaic yards which look as gloaming vitreous agoras where the rings of bubbles and drops bolt and oscillate. Annulet's outsrip. Then we watch the fierce-demo by "fURTiVE bRATZ": ---Two boys, denim trousers, go by squares at sunset we see them from behind, seeing the, their backs as they enter the vicinities of a school, but they stop for a moment in the corner; amidst the passing by flocks we see a lotus-girl with the uniform's jacket that is tied to her wais with a knot on her midriff. Her hair is red, her nose is retrouss‚ and small, the base of a pair of exotic eyes of lotus form ---We are dumbfound for aye when we see the design of her t-shirt, in soft runes, reads: "aGNES, 1987 AD" Cranky detached brats smiling with exultation now soar The Straddler ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Weary of straying, greatly I sit on a remote diner and order a sundae. Entranced, I bask and reckon: the sally went utterly tender by the alamedas and the boulevards. Houses of gaudy molded fronts. The dusty walls were dozing smudged with tags. There are snowy bronze knobs in the gates and doors; Effigies and statuettes Neoclassical or modern styles, but also gothic buildings, really somber. I was a trifle unmindful of the unearthly funfairs or the malls with rinks and other odd saturnalias. There existed afternoons when I have taken naps in great promenades and other days I went strolling by ten kilometer long modern marts. What is threat for the ghosts? The first-run unpolluted lanes? The old-hat penny arcade clerks? Derisory and wild mˆl‚es on book-fairs? The fat, ponderous laundries? Cute grass on inclined parks. Automats, pens, brasseries in the cavalcade of streets in levels of interlaced viaducts. The square underway? net baits ---A clepsydra saturated with rompings and motions of the kids and their caretakers. Off the populous street zones, the environs are markedly less crowded, I found a dome-shaped and white church in the midst of a park ---Sitting to relish a bottled nectar I discover the Vaishnava motive the parrot or (green) polly who enters the pine, sort of delectable and didactic vision. Ensues a jiffy magical, the dryads glow and undulate for me. Glory to Krishna Chaitanya! Glory to Moon Advaita! the why... Virtue ~~~~~~ I can transmute cheap metal into gold. I am able to take any form I like. I know who I was in my previous lifes and I can vanish all kind of morbidities. I am omnipotent until a determined point. I can interpret conundrums, decipher the enigmas, decode mysteries and solve riddles. I am omniscient at will. I am the Master of the five elements and I am Knower of the future, present and past. I am the seaScapist, composer of rebus. I am able to play with the parshadas and I can get whatever I like. Apex: I levitate and I am another prophet. And I am free from the hunger and thirst from heat and from cold. I see the subtle weavings between the arts and cultures and theisms and technologies. I can decide the day of my own death and I can find hidden treasures, I'm the lord and the motive of tender feminine infatuations. I can control my mind and I can read and perceive other minds. I can hide from curious eyes, veiling, but I'm beyond dualities. The daughter of god edified me respecting the eclipses DON'T FORGET: TO ALLWAYS ACTIVELY CONDEMN DISSOLUTE OFFICE HOLDERS OR BASE [POLICEMEN. Basilisks of Preposteralia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As keepsake of memorabilia the joyous twilight when I have definitely found the sleek laser gun, I sort of felt myself apt to start to ravage but stalking and faithfully all the types of excruciation and the nonsensical matters I could see or simply know - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - That dusk the "Ayeeeeee!" on my beauteous ideal as she saw the barbarous backbitings of the forums this enshrined sunset is in my remembrance - I am sure it is for ever so long. She made me see with her confidant vim and appended a discreet cerebration: "At present you are sublime but together we are stealthy." SPiKES, TANTA AND SWiTCHBLADES; in the faces of vampires, barbarian or swindlers Greenhorn Comrades ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Were good those old velvet morning times like a jack bouncing in the seat of the bus going down under the noon sun's searing rays rolling serene as the city roared Sherbets and the harbor's rain in whitened squares, spring has found me unsleeping and the always shore less desert... Personally oft smoking, strolling or reading on the hammock. For the mops and lotus eyes ---Aureole asunder (Musters incense, codexes and dices) Some punx ho by decaying streets ---Summer winds whiff the sharp one pointedness of their steady beings inebriated with impervious cosmic love of incorruption and youthful force saturated against the onerous summertime squalls Smoking so much in resplendent, beige hued taverns. Or, behind the scenes, the moonless night in the "Ygan Uptown" ---At Marky's house, the long session upgrading his system, yet feeling sort of woeful like subliminal prognoses of the computing night's aftermath: blunt and malefic b-class movies How not being deleterious? ---with mini-hare besides the sepia and turquoise, neutral seine? For my reverie of jilted ardor! ---But before unaware devastation of Marky's plastic veteran ---a mess of little soldierly limbs and rubber ligations. And for want of the glazed and bloody skies baptism of fire against the armored zombies Lacking slimy battles against cruel cyborg? (Virtual bones broke on the unfamiliar tornadoes of the fields) or macerating mutated, haunted vigilantes Immersed cyber-realities of the youth that fights the frenzied maggots, fauns, brutes and freaks ---The resultant sadistic mood of almost everyone's taste: (in some manner) despondent and plutonic and peculiar also. And my fanciful doze was dream about how I could be watching "Factotum of Erebus" thus. The fierce flap of one thousand fickles debased fodder... The Makeshift Entrenchment of the Esoteric Elitos in Exile. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ We come to the house and the main gate has trellises of a Celtic style. To the west, there is a park with stone benches and a swing, a file of trees, in round alignment demarcates the plot. From the park to the north there's a grove, I cruise it thinking on how impeccable is Vinayaka's deity in the middle of it. Past the grove, there is a circular pond, water lilies and lo- tuses lie on its surface, forth to the north the glazed greenhouse and the hydroponics lab, other grove and I'm witnessing the back side of the go sala, walking to the northwest, the pasture fields, the cow's prasadas, and besides the crops of boga, another grove is there, in the northern part of the plot, through it there's the back door and the garden with its fountain and to the North east extreme, the Laxmi-Narayana mandir, also sided by a grove that's beside the Shiva mandir. Garuda as well as Maha-Bhumi deities face both pago- das. There is a cobbled path that goes to the west, the front door of the house is there (The M.e.e.e.e Manor) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ There is a buzzer besides the door of the manor, it has a video system and a sign reads "ACCESS DENIED FOR THE LAMOS", past the door inside and to the right there is a tube with umbrellas. There are some Panzaponsha posters around, with subjects cyberpunks and/or futuristic fantasy, there are lava lamps altogether, two and very bulky to be precise. The furniture is an hybrid between rave, retro and feng-shui styles. In the middle of the north- ern wall there is small desk/altar with two computers. Two sofas are here: one in the northwest area of the room and the other in the northeastern part of the place. There are two doors and in the middle of them, I mean, between them both, there's a shelf and it contains books (mostly manuals of computer subjects), tape-backups*, mags* and CDs, boxes and more boxes of legal warez*, legal games and there's on exhibition a relic, a TR-808*. The digital table is round and low, cushions surround it, and on it several computers lie. In each corner, there is a pot with plants. The left door to the south, the kitchen, to the east the fridge, the sinks and the cooking gadgets: roaster, processor, waffle-machine and snow ma- chine. Opposite, a door and another counter, here are the three different ovens: the clay oven, the gas oven and the microwave, too. Through the glass of the fridge's door we see fruit, curds, cheeses and cabbages. In the upper part there's a sticker "LOVE THE ANIMALS" there are two windows and two doors by the western door we come to the dining room, the table is round and low: around, say, forty centimeters from the floor. There are cushions, a dozen of them. The lamp that hangs over the table suggests plethora of chinoseries that one can imagine looking at it. Through the northern door and the east, going upstairs I come to the second floor: five doors are there: the first is for the multipurpose pantry. The second is for the salon, the thirds is for the toilette, the fourth is for the private library and the fifth is for the bedroom. For a moment I stare at the window and see: the swimming pool is there in the yard, before the groves. The pool is lengthy, around twenty meters long. It's water looks pellucid... crystalline. On hearing the kitchen's gong boom I know I have have been called for taking lunch... Under the window there is a case with Indian style frills. It has shades, they are closed, by the sides of the case there are bonsais. I know it is Greta's Rukmini-Vitthal altar purchased in Punilla. Back in the kitchen, Greta has prepared some cabbages and hot-cross rolls. I note that always the hot-cross will be my dearest (along with Vienna rolls pao doces, little black buns and even with the creamonas) ---Suddenly the vi- sion of creamona nodes spreading with cream cheese and jam. However, no, the lunch is this steaming delicious cabbages with the crispy rolls. Drinking nectar. We do not talk, but we think together; the subject: how Mukun has tried to boycott his post for lit for bANSHEe, subconsciously he has fermented a silent hate for bANSHEe because of the crone nature of it, with his r LITS. I am digesting the lunch of unsullied prasada... I am in the living room I can see the cases with long meters of cables on them. The shelves contain cute objects while the group of machines in the table make a really sober effect but there are other things around the living room: a camera, a scanner a mask of VR and several joy pads and even joysticks but there are also cards and tools and is among all this delicate computer components that are so cute that I realize how I feel the way I feel. Entering the bedroom, the big bed has carvings on its sides. A big tapestry hangs from the roof, it's a screen for concealing the high ceilings. The Kama Sutra's influence is evident when I see a little table with varied flasks ne- ar the captivating and well finished Mahabarata-style chariot. The biggest narguile of the house is here. Inside of the bathroom: there is a jacuzzi and a latrine, also a bidet, but no vestiges of a WC over here. The mirrors are three, of the folding type. The little shelf near the latrine has some pulp comics, shamefully. The latri- ne and bidet are under the window. The sealed salon contains a velvety floor and cushions, there is a com- puter, a keyboard a mixer and another synthe. Also a pair of turntables and amplifiers. In the northeastern side of this floor there is the bookroom, it walls are full of books, magazines, videotapes and CD's boxes. The shelves are four, with corridor among them. There is a window over there, it is facing the fore garden. The terrace, the laundry room the same as the ironing room with other (what ever) purpose, also with the acrylic-roofed bungalow, which is multipurpose, too, it has a sofa and a door that is the door of the toilette. Some forms made of plastic ribbons and metal tubes are there, for taking sun baths and a rustic, immaculate barbecue, only for vegan brochettes, I guess. I do not know how to get inspiration for vegan toasted meals. I mean for creating recipes besides the chutneyed veg-kababs. * * * Again out of M.e.e.e.e, I see to the right the orchards. I walk by the path that surrounds the house and reach the main path again, going to the outside of the plot I see the familiar crypt and the crematorium, they are made of gray stone. The shop ~~~~~~~~ It's a milk-bar, there's a soda dispenser, for creamy ice cream sodas and one of it sections is for milk shakes: vanilla, strawberry, chocolate for the shakes, and mint, pista and cream of the sky for the sodas. Fridges with creamy ice cream of several flavors, and tables with sits. Elysian fields--- stomps. the entranced chores of the loathing reps. Yace ~~~~ Those tiny blokes with neckties in gelid offices, confer you revolutions and umbrage. I saw the elm, vortex, debutant, polishing my tomahawk: I saw the shinny sport jackets and expensive futuristic shoes used by the skillful lads who amused themselves savagely at our borough's video-arcades... and diverse imps of the ignored class, too. And later on I saw the Slumping of The Unforgiving. On rugs of super development dainty froth restores the cortex of the observers, is in the moniker. Vertex: "Overhauling the school terminals" and always the glacial "NO" to bombs and plebeian fits. The curses and jinxes will take just some swift vials. The crimson-haired minx will share their maudlin torsos and their blue chip yields. I discern. Elite's crucibles. Pierced emissaries with snarly tufts. MIGHTY APEX ~~~~~~~~~~~ 'Em aye and you on th end is tiny Fast peaks in temples In me? See tantrum fits. 2003 - The Prana Expres Kopyleft (k) S. Guha Kovi @BEGIN@file_id.diz *** SOFT WAYS OF FAIRNESS - VERSE LIBRE *** A BOOK BY S. GUHA KOVI @END@FILE_ID.DIZ