Pak means PURE
Paki means ONE WHO IS PURE
Call me ‘Paki’
Call me Paki
Call me — but be sure
You know I AM PURE.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
Pak means PURE
Paki means ONE WHO IS PURE
Call me ‘Paki’
Call me Paki
Call me — but be sure
You know I AM PURE.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
The eye that sees all
But to Self is blind —
Hold your Thought
The way you
Hold your breath
Watch your mind
Watching all
Being watched:
The Eye that watches itSelf
As it sees all.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
When every nerve is
Screaming for you to stop
Just remember this
A flop? Or cream of the crop?
Bite the bullet
First or last breath
Fight the limit
Your life – or death!
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
In the bathroom
In the bedroom
In my room
Private …
I create, I write
A product, a market
A customer – take it
To your room
Private ….
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
Be an Artist
Be a god
Create your own world
Create your own creatures
Be a god
Be an Artist.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
If you start with a White you cannot create a Black
If you start with a Black you can create a White
The First Man was black
The first racist was brown
The first supremacist was white.
If God created Man in His own image
Then God is black
If you start with a man you cannot create a woman
If you start with a woman you can create a man
Therefore God is a Black Woman.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
Fatima Bhutto knows that your father
had her father killed.
And your mother knew it.
Do you know that your father
had your mother killed?
Your mother knew it.
In the instant the bullet entered her fatuous skull
In the instant her fat arse lost sphincter control…
She knew it.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
The mother of the future king screwing around with Muslims
The mother of the future king being cocked by a Muslim
The mother of the future king sucking the circumcised knob of a Muslim
The mother of the future king marrying a fucking Muslim
The mother of the future king having the babies of a Muslim
The future king having half-brothers and sisters that are Muslim
The future : half-breed Pakis drinking tea at the Garden Party
The future : half-breed Pakis waving to our people from The Balcony
How can we stand by and let that happen?
How can we let Her House win in the long run?
How can we just hand over the loot of generations?
Then watch her draw Her Line in another direction?
How can we stand by and let that happen?
Nightmare : she gloats with power once her son is on the throne
Dream : we mourn over her coffin once we have cut her down
But how? How? Without a hint, a whiff, a whisper?
Above all suspicion, in plain view, not one pointing finger
Do it before she marries a camel-shagging sand-nigger Muslim
( At least the Bastard ginger is a genuine White fake )
Do it before she excretes a jiggaboo, or converts to Islam
Someone must royally grease the brakes
In the end she will be remembered for wearing a dress
She lived splashed by the Press and she will die flashed by the ‘Press’
To the Tower — No — take the traitor to the Tunnel …
( While the birth mother called her a paki-loving whore )
The death mother steered her towards the lucky 13th pillar
“Powers at work about which we have no knowledge”
Medics worked for forty minutes to doctor the carnage
Our ‘Man at the Scene’ scratched on her tomb
“She was not pregnant — I looked into her womb”
The fucking Pakis will be buried at her funeral
The rest will drive taxis, and pay us tax
We will wait for public opinion to relax
Her Golden Boy will be our crowning jewel
The Firm will go back to Business As Usual …
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
Hold Conscious Thought the way you hold your breath
Do not think – hold still – let go
Subconscious will begin to flow
From the sidelines watch Genius play the length and breadth.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
She wanted him, I wanted another
But neither of us could marry our lover
Now we’re stuck … have to make do with each other …
We’re young, and living, but our lives are over.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
Carrying a bouquet I quietly opened the door
On the tip of my tongue,’Surprise! Surprise!’
In that instant my heart crashed to the floor
The room was full with your ecstatic sighs
You were calling and crying out for more
He was planted, and still digging, deep between your thighs
You had your loving cup poised to pour …
I will never forget the look in your eyes.
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.
My heart is just an organ for pumping blood
Who made it an Authority on feeling Emotion?
What the hell does it know about Love?
Just a little muscle designed to circulate blood –
Damn you, heart, stick to your one and only function
Or I’ll tear you out and throw you in the stove!
(c) Satori Publishing, 2013.