Death takes our deposits in installments
whatever you can afford
more that you can afford
$14 for cigarettes
death chuckles, stupid girl
She'll regret that in the morning
Hangovers, hesitant and polite
will lose patience
after fast food lunch
come ripping through and ruin you.
But you bought it,
just like those installments to death.

RAJ NANDY
37 followers
AN INTRODUCTION TO THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE IN VERSE
                                    By Raj Nandy
THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE WAS A PERIOD OF TRANSITION
BETWEEN MEDIEVAL & THE MODERN  WORLD. I propose to
present in three installments my researched work for both the Art &
History lovers of this Site. Kindly take your time to read at leisure before commenting. Thanks, -Raj Nandy, New Delhi.

                   PART ONE: BACKGROUND
The Term Renaissance :
The word ‘Renaissance’ means ‘to be born again’ ,
Derives from French ‘renaistre’ and Latin ‘renascere’, -
both meaning the same !
Swiss historian Jacob Buckhardt by writing “The
Civilization of Renaissance in Italy”,
Helped to popularize this term during the 19th Century !
The Renaissance evolved out of ‘Christendom’ , which
was Medieval Europe ;
Ruled entirely by the Catholic Church and the Pope !
It formed a period of transition between the Medieval
and the Modern Age ,
And as a contrast to the preceding thousand years , -
Which the Latin scholar Petrarch christened as the
‘Dark Ages’ !
This era saw a revival of interest in classical learning
of Greek and Roman art and culture ;
Focused on individual’s life on earth , with a new spirit
of adventure !
Happiness was no longer shelved to an afterlife and
repentance for salvation ;
But it lay in the advancement of human beings on Earth , -
with secular contemplation !
Thus individualism , secularism , and humanism , were
chief characteristics of the Renaissance ;
With innovations in art, architecture , and a scientific
temper of thought !
Knowledge no longer remained confined within the cold
ecclesiastical walls ,
But it spread from Italy across Northern Europe , -
To distant English shores through France !
During the Renaissance era Humanism became its
dominant philosophy ;
And there begins our Renaissance Story, since knowledge
is no man’s monopoly !
Events leading up to the Renaissance were many ;
Let me now dwell upon some salient features which
shaped its History !

THE BLACK DEATH (Peaked between 1347-1352) :
It was brought by Genoese merchant ships from the Orient ,
The fatal bacillus of the bubonic plague carried in the blood
stream of rodents !
The plague from Sicily and Italy spread to Northern Europe ,
All medicines failed , and even the Church provided no hope !
After having raged for almost a decade it started to abate ;
But by then almost one-third of entire Europe’s population
lay dead !
This deadly plague which followed the Hundred Year’s War
between England and France ,
Created social , economic and political upheavals in Europe,
leaving little to chance !
People began to lose faith in the church and on sermons of
afterlife ,
Secular thoughts now prevailed in a world where only the
fittest could survive !
Shortages of labour brought an end to Medieval feudalism
and serfdom ,
And Europe gradually emerged out of those Dark Ages, -
to greet the rising Renaissance sun !
The meager labour force could now bargain for better
wages and individual rights ;
Later, merchant guilds protected specialized labour and
their human rights !
Cities got gradually built and a new social order began
to emerge ,
Historians say that Europe saw the rise of a new Middle
Class !
As Europe gradually begun to recover from the aftermath
of war , plague, and devastation ;
The City-States of Italy lit the torch of a new intellectual
emancipation !
But before moving onto the Italian city-states, I must
mention the Holy Crusades ;
Since the Crusades opened up the doors of knowledge
and trade ;
Helping this ‘New Learning’ of the Renaissance to spread !

THE HOLY CRUSADES (1095-1270) :
At the behest of Pope Urban II and his battle cry “God
Wills It! ” ;
The First Crusade was launched to recapture the Holy Land
from Muslim infidels !
Within a span of next two hundred years eight Crusades
were launched ,
The First one took Jerusalem , but the Second failed to make
Damascus fall !
The Third led by Richard the Lion Heart, made Saladin to
grant the rights , -
To Christian pilgrims to visit their Holy shrines in Palestine !
The Fourth Crusade had sacked Constantinople , - then a
commercial rival of the Italians !
Now cutting a long story short , let us see what History
has taught !
These Crusades helped in opening up the trade routes ,
For importing paper, spices, soap, silk and luxury goods !
Trade was carried out with the countries of Levant region ,
Which included the countries from Turkey to Egypt , -
Bordering the eastern seaboards of the Mediterranean !
These trade routes formed a major conduit of culture
and knowledge ,
And exchanges and interactions broadened the mental
horizon of the Italians !
From Constantinople, recently Christianized Spain , and
the Arab lands , -
The preserved ancient classical knowledge now reached
the Italian hands !
In their School of Salamanca the Arabs of  Spain ,
Had translated works of Aristotle and classical scholars
into Arabic , - thereby preserving the same !
Later scholars translated these precious works into Greek
and Italian ,
And thus the Ancient Classics saw a glorious revival !
The scientific, philosophical, and mathematical thoughts
of the Arabs had also entered Northern Italy ,
From Egypt and the Levant region , to enrich Pre-
Renaissance Italy !
And when Byzantine Empire fell to the Turks in 1453 ,
Its Greek scholars with their precious manuscripts flocked
into Italy !

THE CITY-STATES OF ITALY :
‘Italia’, once the epicenter of the mighty Roman Empire ,
Disintegrated into several small principalities breaking
up Italy entire !
Its mountainous rugged terrain was a barrier to effective
internal communication ;
And no strong unified monarchies emerged, as in other
parts of Europe !
Italy with its peninsula jutting out into the Mediterranean
Sea ,
Had begun to monopolize the trade routes, and also to
prosper economically !
During the time of the Renaissance , Italy had numerous
autonomous city-states and territories ;
Where a powerful leader called the Signore , ruled for
a fixed tenure initially ;
But later this post was declared as hereditary !
Kingdom of Naples controlled the south ;
Republic of Florence and the Papal States the center ;
Genoese and the Milanese the north and west respectively ;
And the Venetians the eastern part of Italy .
These Italian city-states prospered greatly from its growing
trade during the 14th century ;
Its cargo ships visiting Byzantine , and the cities bordering
the Mediterranean Sea !
It became a status symbol for rich families to patronize
art and culture ;
They vied with one another commissioning paintings
and architecture !
But the Italian city-state that had prospered the most ,
Was the city-state of Florence which became the host ;
And the ‘Cradle of European Renaissance’ !
...............................................................­­................................
* ALL COPY RIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR -RAJ NANDY*
(My Part -II will contain the Story of Florence , - " Cradle of the
Italian Renaissance". Thanks for reading, do recommend this Verse to
your other poet friends!
Comments from Gita Ashok, an Educator, from ‘Poetfreak.com’:- A thoroughly researched erudite collection of historical facts presented in a very lucid and interesting manner. This write made me reminisce all those history lessons that I learnt in school many years ago - many of which I found boring as it was taught in an intimidating way. I feel like going back in time, becoming a student once again and learning history through such creatively written works of art. But I realize that we are all yet students of life and can still continue to learn and grow. I feel fortunate to have read this great piece of literary work and I look forward to reading the second part.-  by Gita Ashok | Reply
Edit poem

AN INTRODUCTION TO ITALIAN RENAISSANCE was added 21 hours ago.

a) Don't debt for love, After love is over installments are very heavy..

Beware the bitter idiot--
That fellow with the sour
    Mind,
Cankered by disillusion,
And feelings of
Left behind.

So life may not be everything
As planned--
It does, after all, arrive in
Installments called the day.
One of these is enough to try
    To understand,
One enough for this thin
Vessel of stardust clay.

His voice is but a drone,
Nothing but rancor and filth
    Ride upon his tongue.
Complaint the engine of his
    Tone,
The wormwood ballad of
Pitiful woe he sings and has
    Ever sung.

He will not be mistaken,
For the street tough is at his
    Very core.
He will not allow to awaken
The malleable man of his
    Youth and yore.

And so this fellow who has
Shut his soul off,
Stands in front of his mirror and cries.
He's too proud to unhand the
Lance of the scoff--
Boldness is his favorite lie.

Substantial quadrants of hate



Throughout these veins circulate



Spiraling in frenzied states



Adrift an ailing coma





Infinite corruption clawed my corneas



Birthing the erasure of euphoria



Imprinting trademarks of memoria



Leaving in wake vile aromas





All confidence dissolved to solvents



Due to definitive involvement



Susceptible to gaunt installments



Marring my skin with melanoma





Mother Earth serves as a mime



Humanity must be refined









© 2012 (All rights reserved)

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i started dieting at the age of twelve
hopeless puking and desperate
i call this year my miracle year

blissful as a bar of chocolate
that’s when I decided
**** thin happy wins

my wedding photo hints of some foul play
          of death, destruction lurking, looming 'round
as four have cracked or burrowed under ground
          while two remain who yet have lived to stay
for two by two the years have counted them          
who've left this picture someone has condemned
          and neither they nor evil can be found

from left to clockwise tragedy has struck
          this picture taken in 2004
a blissful wedding day with bliss in store
          has seen no bliss yet only jet black luck          
for two years is the pattern found within
as if installments paid for unknown sin
          and two by two the years have taken more

2006 my brother passed too soon
          at thirty this was not his time to go
from one disease a cure does not yet know
          and from his loss we still are not immune
as one by one his organs fell asleep
until he too slipped through, we couldn't keep
          and he was just a prelude to this show

2008 my grandpa, ninety-five
          had lived a healthy, fruitful fulfilled life,
outlived even his loving doting wife
          by eight years more the man remained alive
for two years of his grandson was berieved
whose name he often spoke of as he grieved
          an old man overwhelmed with burdened strife

2010 the blissful pair had split
          whose wedding day this picture to us bore
after six years her joy had been no more
          explaining that my throne no longer fit
for i'd become a burden to her cause
and cut off, bleeding freely without gauze
          i cannot find the life i had before

2012 my father's heart had failed,
          in April he was saved but for a spell
until in May his heart one last time fell
          despite all of our efforts as we railed
and as it were, a grandson he'd not see
a son of my wife's flesh enjoined to me
          now how this pattern plays i cannot tell

the back row in the picture's marred complete
          the front row bears the two that now remain
this pattern of two years i can't explain
          but if continues more will see defeat
the clockwise movement left to right is done
now right to left the foreground move will run
          2014 promises new stain

the next in line, my mother in two years
          and two years after her my aunt is left
then i will be of everyone bereft
          an orphan, fate fulfilling all my fears
by this 2016 none may laugh
but one, this silent chilling photograph
          completing all my family's great theft

(C)2012, Christos Rigakos

I once sold a hair straightener to a woman going through keemo

I once sold a a weight loss supplement to a girl struggling with anoerexia.

I once sold female libido enhancers to a forty year old man.

Sold a car to a Parapalegic

Sold a telephone to a deff woman.

I once sold a child an imaginary friend.
And a Vaccuum for their sandbox.

I once sold a soul to a telemarketing company.

They paid me in biweekly installments.
And they got a hell of a deal.

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Pungent coffee stains with the magnificent for company,
I spill a drop in a background of shiny metals creating an orchestral symphony.
Sitting in the boulevard I chase words into poetry,
Alongside the parades of chaos singing a different symmetry.
I write of sunsets, birds, kisses and seas,
I even write about branches on broken trees;
Of tales where the hero is the villain,
and those who felt pain in dol multipled them a trillion.
Of lonesome characters that wrote letters of love,
they even defied their gods above.

It was his eyes that made me drink black coffee,
no sugar, no cream, not even toffee.
Deep, dark and bitter was the way he was;
I even went to ‘Home Bakery’ just because.
Decoctions of coffee comforted my freezing moments,
heartbreak came to me in brief installments.
Like most of my men with no names,
my heart burned without any flames.

I love him like I love my coffee,
and you must believe me when I say
I will perish like the aroma of the first brew.

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It was Freddie Hubbard on the trumpet
blowing on about some blue moon,
as if the yellow one that has occupied
the night and sometimes morning sky
wasn’t enough, when I decided to write
a poem about thinking about tomorrow.

How I will rise before the rest, run a few
miles on a treadmill overlooking a busy
boulevard and read the private memoirs
of a justified sinner. And when the tomorrow
that I was thinking about comes with its new
minutes and hours, its new obstacles and

headaches, I will think back to today
and remember the morning kiss you gave,
the silence between your body and mine,
the amount of times you changed your outfit
before the lake, the museum: the live dances
from cultures around the world that kept us from

viewing new installments, the interracial ballet
dancers tip-toeing to a tune well-known to childhood
ears. But the one memory of yesterday that will be
with me until death do us part will not be of the
Shakespeare that I read nor of the raspberry
cheesecake we shared but of you: sitting alone,

waist-deep in a bubble bath. ******* pert and
motherly exposed. Resting comfortably above
your ribcage. Showing more beauty than age.
A glass of cabernet sitting where the razors and
shampoo usually sat. A young adult novel in the
white palms your small hands. But yes. The one

memory that will be with me until death do us
part and well, even after that, will be of me looking
at you: naked in a tub, your glasses over the bridge
but on the edge of your nose, and the rest of my life

before me.

man was the first to preform suicide
natural born martyrs
too sick to bring themselves to eat their own filth
our strongest are easiest to fall
men were not made to survive
but sequential installments are in
follow suite in order to remain on top
in order to fall farther

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it does not seem to be a complete love
this love that seems to grow on me
that grows over you;
for one day like today it is your smile I remember
as I drive home
and it is that which hovers in my dream;
and the other day was each eyebrow
its shine and the arch and the way each flickered like leaves
a while on the ground;
and what was it the other evening?
they were the gentle hands you placed on the table
in asking a question;
and Saturday
your shoulders followed me home;
it never seems to be a complete love
it never seems to complete itself
and it’s so focused on parts;
O could it not take all of you
all together
in one integrated love
one complete love?
and still it grows like a seedling or lava or pupa
or even a tadpole
this my love for you
this evolving, this growing
(I did not know if I wanted it
but growing, there is no longer one’s will)
and your voice for example,
the way certain words come off your tongue
the dialect and regional difference
and like my name too sounded like no one else can;
and that accidental brush between us too
(and each uttered “Sorry”
and each reached out to steady the other)
and the sensation
was transported through my flesh
and pleasure
and flesh became part of the love too
and so it is never complete;
like a jigsaw puzzle this love
though the parts all fall together I must say
and the picture is clear at the end
like a classic ****** mystery too, just as tense;
and there it seems the love is complete –
and yet it is not complete, for it is still in silence
and impressions and wishes unspoken and unexpressed
that is the genesis and growing of this love
like a soap-opera
that comes in installments and is never complete

A dagger pierces the heart
When a cheater comes to talk
If meeting goes ahead
Saturn's invitation comes to afraid
Some Monsters become catalysts
And destruction comes in installments
The catalysts separate up
And time starts eating up
Marks of destruction leaves on generations
Better escape even now from cheater
Price may be paid whatsoever
May be there is a lamp of hope at the end
Or will meet with a comfort end.

she once said, ‘ life is ****, deal with me!’
well no... she just said life is ****...
i liked me,
now i sit by the boiling kettle
and i’m singing out a song that
sounds less like crow, even crow sounds like
the ultimate pathology, the ultimate north...
higher and more remote from oslo that iceland
and the denmark colony...
she’s singing hello via the **** fat *****...
goodbye will be given the arithmetic a b c
when she’s 31...
testifying to train-spotting so she looks cool
but isn’t... goodbye from platform five...
i must have checked my g.p.s. for vanilla a budding first...
women are too expensive... keep cats / dogs...
better eyes... oh look here comes the soviet army
ready to beat me... then the talk of schengen was
just impregnated lamb lore of the foetus you ***** me into having,
thank you, thank you dianna thank you charles
and thank you the paparazzi... **** the harrod’s boy;
all i really want is the don quixote windmill of slo mo
of the close up airy of the hair...
i want to chase mirrors... i really do...
i want to chase them into sleep patterns
that gave you a roof, or might have had you given me the chance...
forget the marriage of buttonman buttnoning up a jacket
into perfection for batman...
batman took to encourage the october solistice and harmed
the elbow on the hour hand of the clock...
i’m **** smear bare all over the honey with you...
i’m melting like your father with his economic creases
about to remember vulture snooker... which didn’t work...
took the safetynet with him, reminded himself
of the thing called a ****** he married detached from mother
denoting daughter...
you are ready for feminism, are you ready for intellectual sexism?
i think you are...
otherwise you wouldn’t be so militant in islam...
which i invoke france with to censor you...
yeah i survived... i wish i didn’t...
i care less for the drama that ensues in you avoidance of justice...
it’s just so pathetic... i think death is less pathetic...
and i wish for death, the less pathetic of the two pathologies,
to smooch me quicker as a medicine,
i just want to disengage with this pathetic engagement with life
that brings me no closer to life
but closer to those dead and lying while with a working
tender worm oesaphagus... i rather be dead than
alive and engaged with your lies.*

the other ***** said her father had morals and didn’t
sell her as a child on screen...
he ****** my guitar up that i didn’t pay for but had
to concede on having with installments...
he sold the child... daddy **** luck was almost rich with
the investment she lied about when she said
that he: didn’t take the money and run!
he ran...
and if you’re still enlisted in the camp that said:
free art!
but not in the camp:
free bread & wine!
you must be the one gratified by really **** poetry
and stale bread that never came / and vinegar that
you wouldn’t salad-crunch with.
*****: sigh elsewhere,
i'll my mp3 the cultural output with the hamster farmers -
there's no part of you that said credo in symphony no. 9
but not owl... there's no part of you that said:
i carved the falcon crescendo of the edenic fall
for freelance
akin to the cheap **** of pop in the dyed age of replicas
for early blonde dye - can i ask you, why free art?
why free art and the contradiction of sustained
charity... art is charity? really?!
i thought the original impetus to art
is governed by sustaining the gut and the brain...
but i guess my generation just took to carrier pigeons
speeding to nowhere on empty stomachs...
well... free bread & wine & whine still resonates
better than pop songs as free as pigeon coos
or dog barks.

A letter to my dear,
Sons and daughters
In a foreign language
Not known in my time,
But with hope in yours.
Where they may have fixed the
Imbalance of life.

I wish not to depress you,
But repress your mind
As my first impression is to point
A finger to time
The one whom answers
Questions in installments.

For this man once put me on stage
And my agenda was to impress
Twice to the infinite I could count
But I couldn’t find that one in my life.
Where are you?


Thus the nature I was born in,
Is to interest the world
And not bore it with normality
Not knowing that peace comes in many ways

For this foreign language
Seems to be a new era
Of blank pages that could be
Filled with one word
GREATNESS.

For yesterday I did things of shame
That are great for a story
That would become fame
Just the perfect ice breaker in my time.
Tip for if you ever find\have TIMEtoTRAVEL

Thus my vote belonged to extinction,
Since…



Justice is a commodity
Of the rich
As poverty is beautiful
Beautiful without the eye’s of the lens.

Though I don’t have doesn’t mean
Am not/I can’t
As My sight is set to the sky
Chasing a flower in the clouds as
I am still on the ground investing an idea.


Thus the gap of the market to success
Is the economics of humanities fate
As the scarcity of fear rises
Demand and supply seem to be losing
In a relation of ships
At  bay lacking goods.
On this graphic coordinates

Just may you understand
Humanity has no time to
Find you in the dark
For smoke signals will be put out
Neither translate your existence
If it’s not the curiosity that killed the cat.
Like “Chuck Norris whom speaks French in Russian”.

For they live on a constant
Quote status of
“I am available, but busy
At school watching a movie,
While at work
With a battery about to die
So I can’t talk, Whats App only
In a meeting at the gym
Sleeping on urgent calls only.”

As I myself live knowing
I speak a FOREIGN LANGUAGE ……
What is your translation of my existence???
For it seems your mistaken and troubled.
For generations to come.

Yours sincerely;
Poet Kiri
N. HANNY L.


PS: Life has gone digital
       Thus its STATUS RATED ®.
                                     Yours truly;
                                       Is to be the ONE.


©Hansmind, 2016

sweet yesterday, where did you go?
its been long since i've seen you even more since we spoke
and i've been meaning to tell you the camels back broke
and i've lost sight of things since i last time i wrote
and i know that you hate these notes i'm just trying to cope
somehow it helps to know i let you know
that i'm doing alright without you, once again
i no longer live in sin on the outside looking in
i'm the kid on the frontlines wearing skin too thin
and the levis are ripped, i got ****** scabs to match
i've been moving so fast that my mom can't patch
this hole in my heart i tried to fill with a spark
but i lost my grip and it left its mark
i don't know how many times ive had to curse this *****
somebody tell me, why's it always gotta be like this?
i remember when it was fine and we were just running
but now she's starting to take friends away from me
i've been thinking of the best way to say that we miss you
i wanna put my fist through glass cause it hurts too bad
to think about all of the things that you should've had
so i'll sit back, got some pictures out of storage
ill crack and orange for you, its sad but it's true
that you passed on throught without saying goodbye
but its alright we just want to apologize
sorry you had to go through it all alone
a guy like you deserves to be at home
with friends by your side and smiles in your eyes
not cold in the grass by yourself late at night
you never know when that drink will come and take your loved ones life
but just keep telling yourself you'll be alright
suicide by installments a day at a time
tip your glasses to the sky and hope tomorrow brings new light to life
while we scream
look Johnny B, you're finally free
go run your heart out, boy
know that we will be chasing
orange soda tasting, hawiian shirt raising, facing our fears
for you

i'm up
i'm straight up
because i still can't give my heart away
after all this time
and love ain't even hard
like riding a bike... and once you know how
different wheels now
but i don't let it bother me
use me/use you are the twosomes i'm used to
and i've got more than these entendres to give
i'm still what's happenin
it just so happens
there's no one's here to lie to my face
i need that
it feels good sometimes
no one i can front for right now
like love is genuinely an option in my condition
i've been called a coward
emotions die horrible deaths under my watch
lust is less complicated
try me... surprise me
but my heart is too wide to fit in your handbag
you could strain something vital;
the weight of it all
you may hate that it excites you
waiting to fall, but... no love
just a one-way ticket and a long ride
take my word
i'm still standing
bracing for a crash landing
when you splash down
and i've got more than these entendres to give
i'm up
i'm straight up
because i still can't give my heart away
after all this time
and love ain't even hard
but there's no one else here to lie to me
no one i can front for
try me...
and try me again
just know i meant don't fall for me when i said
don't trip
use me/use you are the twosomes i'm used to
but if you need me to **** with your head
straighten up
and ride my empty promises
i got all night...
medicated via syringes with selfless intentions
i'm still standing
and you've fallen asleep before
to the rhythm of my love notes;
and you've wanted before now
to get to know my ***** mouth
can't explain why you want more... because what for
you were only curious to begin with
don't trip
use me/use you are the twosomes i'm used to
lie to my face
i need that in my life
feels good sometimes
so i'm good if you **** with my head
lust is less complicated this time of morning
i'm up
i'm straight up
i still can't give my heart away
after all this time
and love ain't even hard
like riding a bike... you never forget how
but here i am
and i'm still what's happenin
it just so happens
i'm more vulnerable than recent installments
but i don't let it bother me
use me/use you are the twosomes i'm used to
leave your heart at the door
i would hate to strain something vital
and take it... my word
that i'm up

Played some scratchers for the better part of his life.
One hundred in
Got ****** up on the UV ink

Hope drawn from the next in line
One hundred and one
Connection voided with a tare

Shackled to the shilling
Required for one hundred and two
Binds himself to an unsightly wealth

Allowance gifted in bi-weekly installments
And out comes one hundred and two
Wins the jackpot with pigment under nail

His keeper takes to court.
Seizing one hundred and two
She departs for paradise

Left with a modest sum
He’s up to three hundred and eight
He’s losing it now

Support called in by all the renounced
Stalemated at three hundred and eight
His credits no longer valid with any lottery clerks

I wish he'd turn my water to wine
and give me some fish,
with bread,
I could dine like a King.

I got nothing between here and
the Devil of the track that I took,
look at me
see poverty,

honesty may be the best policy
but I missed the installments.

The undertaker makes no fuss,
sour **** won't bury me
unless
I cross his palm with coin
of the realm.

I laugh, but
he's the captain at the helm
and
I'm a drowning failure.

Are you quick on the draw
or a raw kid?

I wander and really don't care
poetry's where you find it,

mind it
sometimes bites, but
mostly it just kisses
your lips.

The farmer in the field goes on foot
Sweating while ploughing
Harvested with much difficulties
But does not get the real price for his rice.

If he does not pay the loan installments
What will happen next?
The rice will go, the stove will go
Someone thought about it!

The branches reach illogically  
Searching for order in woodland -
chaos
They're trimmed in leaves of blue , high above -
red grass bordering a pink roadway , green
clouds speckle the mustard ceiling in the -
afternoon foray of time and reason
I am a living god born anew each second
Receiving my personal earth in tardy installments

We need to stop making

assumptions or
Can we be saved from
redemptions

To me, this is not a

Shakespearean

Love play reaction

Impeccability

Or love liability

◊ ♥ ♥


Self-love to love yourself

Interaction caught you in

the deepest thoughts

All by myself

Come forth the temptation

What becomes more
tempted

Fifth heart operated
Five doctors
Opened up someones
Good heart Bill Gated


Computer the chosen one
Pressed her five keys like the
Kingdom
come

How  God really

knows what every heart shows
he loves you


One agreement never

thoroughly thought
5 times the Sentinel
stars
She held her words bright


"I Am"

Two of the most powerful

words with love

Confinement

Promises five wishes lift

Please respect it as a gift

But what is really behind the

words bowling(Pin)interest
5 strikes you out


Let's say goodbye to sadness

Show gratitude

Your spirit opens to gladness

Respect is the one greatest

Accomplishment such kindness

Show who you are

the glow of appearance

And pardon me if you refuse

to eat "Emotionally"
Personally so caught up

With someone else's five
sweet and low packs
of poison

Looking for love but we really

don't know love give me five

reasons why?

Be immune to the other

people opinion


(Gamesmanship)

(Ladyfanlytrip)

Life was simpler
with giggles

Now all you see is
War of roses

How it blooms into
the hell of

Five lives of
Rifles

Are you being clearly unheard
Jaybirds Robin redbreast
Flamingo pink seagulls hawks
could really talk
take me away
To think

I forgot some
nostalgia__
My mind erased like
Insomnia

To buy love the Gal of the

Galleria

Were you the pep me up

Pepsi Topsy tipsy
Kentucky derby

The next level spiritual


Rules of the Rumi ®
Take me like a poem

She moved right through me
So peaceful and calm

Her Mona Lisa fifth
the painting she needs
to smile

Her five fingers took
a palm reading

The ½ of her heart needed

mending love
5 top ingredients
So well commended

The five agreements
Recommended

Something like you

never seen

On the news
Fox five
Box ageless five
Sox Dr. Suess
I will take the fifth
No loss



That ***** of light
Jekyll dark lamp post

His incoming headlights
Seeing a ghost

He saved your salvation

Oh! Lord what could I afford

The soul of silence

Going downward

But really "What's up?

Got changed to onward

Your divorced finger cup

Dark coffee with the
eerie glow
Showstopper
Wine corker
Fifth floor
Only one lover

No tootsie roll lost
the soul

Feeling like the
Rookie

All the chips were
out 5 morsels

Love of baked cookies
Love portal

Reaching Twenty five
No morals

So solid in your ways

Always on the fifth days

of the month

He was the bouncer

What an influencer

Healthy sipping your

Organic

With vitality but lonely

inside like a vegetation

So ironic

More energy veggie juicer

You felt "ET" or

Glazing in the grass

The E-book
embracer

the weight coming
off

Personel trainer he was

Slim Fast five times
reducer

24/7 Even Steven
reminder

Hearing the fifth symphony

You need the hubby

Hello Poetry
For God's sake,
we keep

Veterinarian take me
not him he went to sleep
The Veep

The Parrot palm tree
Designer 5 pairs of shoes
Shopping Bell Towers spree


Talking over like a
voice over the game
is over

The snowbirds

Floridian

Those spreadsheets

Spreading heat and waves

of love what's above

Love-Love-Love

Picking up on the fifth ring

Knowing its always him

on the I phone those
cultured

pearls shined for him


Filling in the gaps

That was a different swing

But we will make up the time

The Beatle beats I want to hold

your hand around the Garden of

Eve last love to bend

Your gifted heart to send

With no attachments
enclosed with

installments


Midsummer dream no manic

to this planet

Rumi spiritual existence

♥


My four agreements

To Love

To Honor

To give

To rightfully be happy
to live

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine
You make me happy when skies are grey
You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you
Oh, please don’t take my sunshine away.”

HOPE
is like sunshine.
Here one moment, gone the next.
Shadowed by clouds,
Hidden by the moon.
Sometimes comes in small installments.
Through a windowpane
Or the cracks in a door.
It’s always there.
But sometimes we can’t see it.
And what little we see
Is overshadowed by stormclouds
Of doubt. Is there anything
superior to rain crying in the
sunshine? Crying because
HOPE
has finally shown itself.
This is one of the
Only natural exhibits
of true beauty.

sure, i still live with my parents, can you even begin to comprehend the renting cost of living within the M25? near impossible to attain, i've seen how young people live in shared accommodation, this one Spanish girl who wanted to get a one-night stand with me, she tried to fool the taxi driver by screaming ****, subsequently jumping out of the taxi... the taxi driver hollered at her, i comforted him: i'll pay, don't worry... she lived with... 3 homosexuals... she was so drunk that night... she wanted that cocoon ***, under the bed-sheets... not for me... she was too drunk to begin with... at least in the brothel we do it under dimmed lights... but fully exposed... she called me an angel... later that day she tried to do it again with me, first pretending to relax me by taking a bath with me, we went to the Notting Hill carnival... she must have been talking to her homosexual gurus about my, ahem "impotence"... funny, that, i never seem to be "impotent" in the presence of prostitutes... perhaps she just put me off by jumping out of the taxi & not paying the ******* fare... Tamara... yeah... oh i remember Tamara like it's me drinking coffee yesterday... peer cohabitation... even if you're a drug dealer... it's... *******... squalor: or nearing it... i don't mind people thinking i'm a loser for living with my parents... but... round here... i do the house chores... i do the cooking... my mother has arthritis so she can't do certain tasks... i write my father's invoices... i... get along... am i missing out on casual ***... if i'm not paying for it... i'm not having ***, i'm having a hard time... we met, casually, sure... but the rest of it... out of the window... gone... one redeeming aspect of meeting Tamara, ****-head Tamara... a morning coffee & a robin visiting me in her garden... pretty little bird... cocoon ***... no, thank you... let me just sleep this night... second night still no ***... i was put off! immediately! what sort of woman jumps out of a moving taxi screams **** so as to avoid paying for the: ******* fare?! **** that? exactly... **** that! well, what's the alternative, sure, i could pitch up a tent in Bower Wood... live off acorns... sometimes there's only compromise to be met, maybe that's why i really enjoy talking to old people on park benches, smoking cigarettes drinking a beer, asking them, are you o.k. with me doing this? it always is, since the conversation "goes somewhere"... i know that cohabitating with your parents makes you come off like some Oedipal implosion, but then again: i'm more attached to my father than my mother... if i were living with my peers, i'd be living in a semi-squalor... living with my parents makes me a custodian of the property, living in rented accommodation, ensuring the toilet was clean, the kitchen was clean... **** imploring them to ******* from playing video games while i'd do the cleaning... would, technically make me their slave, their *****... i'll write poetry & the pseudo-science of this art for free... why? i feel like it... it feelz... right... i'm here for the long-run... i'm not looking for short-term investments... i'm looking to yawn for 100 years at least... rough up my knuckles... buckle my tongue Horace! we're going to have a proper party... we'll make it... Pompeii! ******* slags & nunces of the WASP scene... what other living / shelter arrangements are there, left?! the homeless shelter... it's a social stigma to have parentage, to be still living with them? last time i checked, they're mortal... i'll be the one who inherits this house, this garden... plus... i have two libraries of books & c.d.'s & vinyls to mind... i can't, just, move, these! i drink a lot... yet still living in the confines of a... ah... ha ha... an "authoritarian regime"... guess i must be a: good boy after all... but i'm not going to fill the pockets of Saudi or Pakistani landlords... even if that might get be away from the WASP social stigma of living with your parents... like... by 35 i'm not doing all the household chores... i'm not cooking the food... sure... i should be stigmatised... but if i'm involved in giving household involvement... what's the problem? if  living among peers would imply living in a semi-squalor... just so that... hey... i just might land a one-night-stand... with a Spanish broad that decides... it's easier to jump out of a... ******* moving taxi rather than pay the fare... who shares a house with 3 homosexuals... even i think my life's ****** up... but then i went down the psychosis spiral aged 21... not many people do... my language skills: elevated...  like... the English really think they have rightfully inherited the Latin transcript, rightfully? without doing what other European peoples have done, employing diacritical markers?! sometimes i think that i'm walking around, ******* Neanderthals when interacting with these people...

oh... i've seen how it happens... it's not about
entertaining my delusions...
it more about the medical profession taking account
of when: regression is performed...
lucky me: for not dreaming much...
i don't think i can be implanted with false
memories... i was abused as a child:
as a child... being in a peer group:
you're bound to be... period...
outlier involve... walking down a street,
being asked by your elder peer
to open your mouth... snapping it closed...
getting spit in the face...
hello! ******... fellow... whatever...
ROT!
English is my home... England...
does it have to be?!
VER-ROTTEN!
      time flies when... you've been
subjected to pills that make you **** your
bed... you come off them...
you see the whole world are sort of...
the retardation of backwards...
it's fun to watch...
but the "fun" soon ends...
and you simply watch...
lost souls...
you get to build up an empathy...

even with the song:
WUMPSCUT: MADMAN SZPITAL
(SKON REMIX)...
the entrance lyrics read:
nie, przyjęty do szpitala...
not admitted to (a) hospital...

     oh i was diagnoses as psychotic...
schizoid... blah blah...
but... was i ever in a mental health unit?
no... no, last time i checked...
once one psychiatrist tried to play the regression
game on me, i was simply told to:
roam free...
so much has happened since my,
"initiation" circa 2007...
the world has become unrecognisable...

imagine that: diagnosed as mad...
but not admitted to an asylum...
hello "new" asylum... hello "new",
"society"...
it almost feels like... the psychiatrists
tested me for identifying regression testing...
if this "one" gets out...
let's just see... what havoc he might wreck...
to reiterate... i was diagnosed as
mad... but... they didn't care me...
i'm still waiting for my reprimand...
i had sessions witch psychiatrists who
had to invite... medical students... to overlook
the "interview"...

if my barber took pictures of me
before & after...
if my steward supervisor took pictures
of the back of my head with a high-viz.
reading: steward on a high-viz. vest
then... i must be a highly relieved high-agony
animal about to be released into the wilderness
of society... about to...
madden them up!
trivial pointers to look forward to!

but, i wasn't, kept, in an, asylum...
psychiatry supposed me to be more useful...
out, in the, open!
personally? it's no longer entertaining...
it has become a yawn...
hier ist: hier jetzt...

    as it turns out youtube is still the same old
jukebox like it used to be...
for years i've been looking for it...
each passing year i felt disappointed...
what has changed?
the algorithm is pretty much the same...
but it has been given a category "glitch"...
i don't know how for so many years
the bar just below the one or two adverts
just below a music video went-amiss...
oh, it's there: the old algorithm where it automated
a thesaurus sort of search & end results
fed you... similar content...
2021 was the year i wasted so much time
trying to find new music but instead enlarging
my head to watermelon proportions watching
****** opinion videos, ****** political videos...
why did i miss the bar just below the adverts
that sometimes reads:
SIMILAR, DARK WAVE, POST PUNK: ****'s sake:
MUSIC!

it's only 2 hours into 2022 and i'm navigating
youtube much better...
you will not find me watching commentary videos,
not since i've found this: filtering process...
that YOU, yes, YOU have to do...
nothing's wrong with youtube... it's still the same
place it was back in 2016...
the algorithm just became more fiddly...
you're simply not given automated suggestions...

to prove my point... i was in Poland once
& the algorithm had a "glitch"... for about 2 hours
i sat down & clicked on suggested videos,
which turned out to be a rabbit hole of similar content,
i actually made a rubric on a piece of cardboard,
i still have these two pieces of cardboard...
new bands, new music...

it is only circa 2hours into 2022 & i'm finally navigating
the site like i ought to...
the Jules Holland Hootenanny finished at
half past 1am... eh... everything these days has to
be overtly black... sorry...
but that's how it is: i don't even know whether
i want to feel anything about it...
of course i was in good company...
parents... sure... if it was simply my mother i,
i would say: sure as **** is creepy...
but the triangle was there... the food was great...
we talked about... how so few cultures might
ever appreciate a tripe stew...
the guts are from calves, the meat that's added
is from the older stock...

i wasn't going out... i know what an absolutely
disappointment going out is...
the next time i'll be going out is when i get
my S.I.A. badge as i follow in the footsteps of
a school friend of mine... Kieran... Kieran O'Mahoney...
i don't mind... chemistry degree in the bag...
nepotism in the air: my local pharmacy was once
oh so good... before the employees were
****** off by a father & daughter combo...
dad... in a professional environment?!
anyway... i can do this work...
    after all... it's on a PAYE basis & not on a self-employed
basis, which means... oh, the last time i was
employed i was self-employed...
doing your own tax returns can be a bit of a *****...
now the company will deduce the taxes themselves,
which implies: they'll do the tax returns for me also...

i was never going to be a surgeon,
i might have been a butcher,
i was never going to be a lawyer / politician:
i might have been a philosopher,
i was never going to be a professional footballer,
i am most certainly an avid cyclist,
the list is endless...
i tried to be a musician... i'm no maestro akin
to Ed Sheeran... i played the guitar...
once i managed to find a bass player...
we recorded a tape...
once i met a drummer... jammed with him...
but nothing really clicked... so i gave it up...
the guitar playing... plus... my heart broke
when my "supposed" future father-in-law
****** with Cindy... a brand new
Martin & Co. LXK2... i just got it on debit...
if i broke her heart because i was having one of
those... wild... psychotic trips from London
to Edinburgh & back again...
o.k., that really ****** me up...
i played the poker game of DUMB ******
when he told me the guitar... oopsy... "simply"
cracked... **** him, **** her...
i still haven't had paid for the ******* guitar...
yet now i had to cough up debit installments for
a broken guitar...
                              sign me some *******
kumbaya... some auld lang syne... on this night...
of all nights... sure... let me just get you the bill...
there's no forgiveness in this world
as long as memory is attached to many
& man wants to preserve himself without
turning into an Alzheimer's pickle...

for all the talent of ol' Ed... but at least i'm not
a ginger... i don't think i could handle that
sort of a masterclass in how
the geniuses distribute gifts...
after all, there are: angels, there are demons...
but there are also geniuses...
a shady category of beings...
let's pretend they sort of like...
a flimsy take on children...
ingenious little *******...
evil not by evil's intent...
evil by the intent of innocence...

oh, no, not out of spite... some things just remain:
as FACTS... if something happened...
forgiveness implies what?

   MEMORIA NEGATIO?!
funny how the order of words changed... although
the ****** tongue is very much as the French
when it comes to the order of wording...
from memory negated...
  the modern counter would be...
   the negation of memory... but that's a really trivial
point, don't you think?

i too have seen a stroke of lightning:
but heard no thunder...
imagine the eeriness of seeing a strike of lightning
but not hearing the thunder!

it's going to be a good year... i've already managed
to unearth new music i once thought would
be impossible... here's my shortlist:

Flor Concreta - Possessao (2021) from the Netherlands...
Euroshima - Gala (1987)
Flue - one & a half (1981) - post punk, dark wave,
sad lovers & giants - lost in a moment,
reds - reds (1989) from Poland
Twin Tribes - Fantasmas
Exq's - Ris'x (1982) - from Belgium...
the Klinik came from Belgium,
great place to start... the more eclectic tastes
bulging from listen to too much the cure or depeche
mode or joy division...
or... 65daysofstatic...
Torn Memory - Untitled...
Always the Sun - Always the Sun EP...
Brandenburg - Part two (2011)
every new dead ghost - a new world (1990)

oh man, the list had become endless...
if the music shop survived...
i'd be a ******* wizard in it!
believe me, i don't mind shepherding people
into packed stadium expecting to watch a football
match... i once did a teaser...
me, alone, in the park...
drinking a beer... watching a Sunday League match...
headphones in... this one woman was screetching
at this older woman... lip-reading
i deciphered: YOU HAVE NOTHING TO TALK
TO HIM ABOUT... **** could have turned ugly...
minding my own business has, become,
problematic?!

the problem with women who have tamed a man
& the untamed man & the women who "think"
they can tame every, single, man!
*******... i'm having a beer... watching a football match!
these days... i much prefer watch the crowd...

loser, living with his parents...
well.. i'm not giving any money to a Pakistani landlord,
am i? &, last time i checked...
oh ****! i guess i own the house i'm living in!
i'll be playing this service role for some time...
i'll be playing servant to my parents...
clean the house, cook the food...
when the neighbour put up a new fence...
cleared the bushes...
who was the person who dug up the *******
roots, added extra cement to the fence?
me! moi! mich!                            ja!

the best alternative is living with my peers in *******
gaming squalor...
i live with these grandchildren-less adults:
who don't want grandchildren to begin with...
well... how, best, to encapsulate the "situation"...
a pedicure / manicure professional comes
round the house once... oh... a month...
she brings her babe along, sometimes she doesn't...
not even a year old...
i ask... "dearest" mother...
if she coming round, is she bringing the "toy"?!

like i said... i might have been a good father,
then again, not so good...
a baby would be a toy...
a linguistic experiment...
a bit like... what Frederick II tried to envision...
raising new born babes in a nunnery
without a single word being said:
trying to find out what language was
uttered first... obviously the experiment
ended with: mute was "said" first...

inherently? really?
dogs inherently bark...
cats inherently meow?
rather than... ****'s sake... bonsai tigers that they
are... not growl?!
so if dogs inherently bark...
why don't they inherently howl like
wolves?!

yeah, most of the nights: the FREAKS were not
appealed to, put differently
even to me, the DJ wasn't appealing to me...

ha... GAMING... the "point of question"
when i put down my "gloves" my itchy thumbs
given then the PS1...
these days, i love the internet evolution
of gaming,
no, i haven't "gamed" / "passively narrated"
myself into make-shift allowances
of late...
my best comparison... Madame Bovary vs.
Final Fantasy VII...
that's it, the end, *******...

either read Madame Bovary,
play Final Fantasy VII on PS1... or...
this is the best part...
night-cycle...
listening to halcyon+on+on...
who? ******* orbital...
like i'm john peel and supposed to know...

aber, mein gott! what advancements!
in gaming! exactly! in gaming!
internet gaming dynamic has...
wow!
           i missed the best part of silent hill...
oh... **** me... i remember tenchu vol. 1
and metal gear solid vol. 2...
boys remember those games like any
idiot associates chess...
to something...

i hate living with my parents...
i'm their *******, slave...
but i'm also not paying rent,
so it's a Chinese hitch-e-hi... ******* "surprise":
just waiting... for the irch kids to get
their face-lifts... wait a minute...
wait... perhaps like a tsunmi:
they'll arrive... unsuspected...
quasi-surprise...
whatever... they're there... ignorant
right sort of bollocking... humour me dear
he! heeee! long smile: remember that:
that long schmile! heeee! lovely E...
it's a ******* smile! o.k.?!
you're pandering you ****! ergo?!
pander!
you want your skull to be part
of the great wall of XINA?! go ahead
you ******* numbskull... talll... massive...
ergo bully? the Chinese emperors were like
the Egyptian Pharoahs...
******* karakans... midgits...
sort of people... people of power... sure...
but sort of... underwhelmed...
oh look! "'hing pops up in deutsche!"
hing, wong, hang, 'ing...
these days, what does it matter?!
zwergemensch!
   lilly-put... i don't need not German for
this... the little people!
the ******* bash-abouts...
thanks, my grandfather's death...
was... so so... you know sort of.. choke
the ******* dragon and the billionth of your kind
sort of happy! for me!

****, you! eat ****... die a diabolical death!
******* squinty eyed no-mother-*****!
squid eating ***** of a fake tan...
no... Arab camel jockey ******* no goody-goody...
too gooey-gooey?!
WAW what ******* RAW?!
oh but i'm ready...
give me the opportunity and i will be...
the best...
schutz-staffel-mann... the world... has ever seen...
i'll even wave "them" a bye bye...
when they enter the chom... chim... chum... cham...
chem... hmm...
zee! ah! ha ha! zee schornstein!
- and there i was thinking...
why is my surname so funny...
******-Stalin / -esaue...
people add... are you alert?!
i always forget... no... it's German...
Elert is missing E-S-C-H-L-E-R-T...
it's... Eślert... oh... right... you're ING-LEASH...
sort of backwards... the Welsh might...
not your kind... i was never for interracial
breeding of people... dilutes the blood...
most certainly disorientates the ingestion
of language... sorry, what?!

to reiterate: i'm no gamer, i'd rather read a book
thana play a narrtive-charged game...
i'm more into the evolution of the game per se,
something with the alias of chess...
the internet interaction of group-"think"...
i like teaming-up with people...
a clarity of objectives... beacons...

capturing them...
you know how that helps? working in a real
life environment...
via STATS...
WAR ROBOTS was great... prior to...
the Kazakhs, the Russians, the Chinese buying into
the game...
i don't gamble, you think i might invest
money into a game?! huh?! huh?!
yeah, like maybe next year...
WAR ROBOTS was great, before the pay-up
glitches started...
MECH ARENA... now we're talking...

wins / battle ratio...
272 / 508... so that's... 53%... decent...
mech catalogue...
there's always a method to the madness...
killshot - to capture the beacons...
& wreck havoc...
panther - to ****** out the competition...
paragon - armed with the seeker
missile javelins...
close combat, though...
guardian + pulse canon 9
ares + plasma canon 6...

                            i'm not a gamer...
i'm just relearning partnering-up... team work...
sorry, if it might come across as too crude...
TWIST THE KNIFE -
****** DEATH.. hello! sunshine!

yeah... i still live with my parents...
but... they have paid off their mortgage...
i sort of helped them in that...
am i cunting myself
to some Pakistani landlord?!
high-priest of Rotherham?!
buzz word for 2022... NO!

.alt. title? a five string acoustic... never mind the guitar, i only discovered this today, when you cook asparagus properly, very much akin to cooking pasta, you overcook it? we're not talking, you slightly undercook it? eh, it'll pass... who needs a floppy little richard's worth of this noble vegetable? you boil some water in the kettle, let it rest for less than a minute, you have your asparagus and the stove is on... salt (obviously)... and you pour the water over these fine beauties, these legs of venus... and you blanch them for about 3 minutes... take them out, pour cold water over them to stop the cooking process... melt some butter with garlic paste, toss the legs of venus into the sizzling butter for a minute or two and... well, would you believe it? the legs of venus have a surprise in store for you... the tips? by god... i never expected there to be nutty accents bound to them... when cooked properly the nutty accents exfoliate in your gob! wow, wow... wow!

there are just some songs that put
an immediate smile on your face...
you can help smiling,
and tapping like a one legged drummer
perched on a windowsill,
head out of the window smoking
a ciggy, enjoying yourself
in the presence of the baltic queen
and her sister: ms. amber...
   a whiskey and a ginger ale cocktail
is always my kind of sunshine
in a glass at night...

                    one such song?
   creedance clearwater revival's:
run through the jungle...
                   good thing i don't bowl
on a regular basis,
   and as a fellow bowler would add:
to hell with the eagles!

   and when i still played guitar...
  just a few songs i loved playing...
   what i wouldn't give for a vinyl
of spirit's twelve dreams of dr. sardonicus...
when i first found this album,
by chance, in Edinburgh's FOPP shop
on rose st., obviously i ate a grenade...

when i still played the guitar...
before my ex's daddy-o decided:
you broke my daughter's heart...
i'll break your guitar...
                     chisel and hammer...
it actually took my head to make
a hole in the ****** beast...
                and he lied about it...
oh... it broke by itself...
               hell: i still had 10+ installments
to pay her off...
  after all... i did sign a contract
to pay off her 600+ quid of worth...
so... i was paying for a broken guitar...
just because daddy issues and
a very precious daddy had to stage
an intervention...

   martin & co acoustic guitars...
fine beauties...
              what was the one i owned?
000-15M? given the current price
i bought mine at a bargain...
  still... "broken hearts", daddy interventions,
and the ******* of paying off
a broken guitar...

             subsequently i had enough...
did the nirvana stage antic of smashing
her against the rocks...
such a crisp sound...
        mmm mmm...
              blues and all that jazz...

         what songs did i really enjoy learning
and playing?
   silverchair - shade...
                link wray - rumble...
      free - all right now, fire & water...
         spirit - when i touch you...
offspring - pay the man...
             under the bridge:
       just for the technicality,
   but not really the song...
              cream - sunshine of your love...
the acoustic version of layla...
       bob marley - redemption song...

    i'm pretty sure there were more...
but...
                no band...
what was i going to be,
   the next egberto gismonti?
hell... here's to not trying to outshine
davy graham: akin to blue raga...
   still, silverchair's debut?
   is still, most probably, a Carslberg motto:
the best debut of the past 30 years...

i'll still die the most unsatisfied man,
not having learned the piano...
but...
     i did find: using the motto -
an elephant stepped on my ear
(i.e. tone deaf) -
       i did find grieg's
  in the hall of the mountain king...
which was fun as a bouncy-castle
or as jumping on a trampoline...
            as i also found Гей соколи...
a folk song popular in the Ukraine
Poland and the surrounding region...

   how passions change...
              i can't even begin to relinquish
my passion for cooking...
who would have thought
you can make a counter schnitzel...
not beating the chicken breast flat...
        and instead of a breadcrumb envelope,
using handled cornflakes...

    or the simplicity of making
   the clear chicken soup...
         basically poaching a good proportion
of the left-over chicken,
   with a carrot, a leek,
    garlic, parsley root, celery,
celeriac, chicken stock...
                          fresh parsley to garnish
and salt and peper to taste...
   and once the clear chicken soup is
finished... mincing the poached chicken
with some mushrooms and sourkraut
   and making ****** dumplings!

     one chicken... two day's worth of meals,
hearty meals mind you.
really? people are in a dire need
for love poetry, for the sort of love that
only poetry allows, i.e. ideal?
       how about this... why is the female
hand the most ****** part of a woman's body?
em... if you have a hand the size
that can hold a baseball with it,
without dropping it...
   at what point is there a necessary
***** envy?
        d'uh...
                   optics...
          once a day while taking a **** will
do me just fine, after all,
i have the maxim: let the creative juices
flowing...
        and that's that...
              my hand on whittle richie
and a woman's hand on whittle richie?
              parallel universes.

i embrace the monsters of imagination
even the barbed wire of tortured images
through blizzards and blackouts
imprisoned in the skin 
stuck in a time space package
where all poems of truth 
are a heresy to a culture of gimmicks
-
descended 
into the inferno of matter
honeycombs of hell
where ignorance is the most dominant religion
unable to recover the pearl of immortality
we look into a mirror of our mind
staring back faceless
a portrait with no eyes 
i'm a cat that barks
pukes on  his mouse
and licks the blood in the cream
like a midnight movie in hell
where we die in installments
mortality being merely 
a vertical management administration
in a graveyard **** town replete 
with broken whiskey bottles 
and stained weathered paper cups
where the drunk sleep on newspapers
like a roof of bones over the dead
-

funny, "that",
no jihadi was ever supposedly
ever, associated
with, mental illness...
empathy is a bitter
fruit to taste...
   isn't it?
suddenly muslims become
a protected
class... and we,
the zookeepers...
  have to ensure...
they remain so...
upon the shoulders
of dwarfs of easy assumptions...
that's what the majority fear...
i'm listening to more
and more diatribe...
and all i'm hearing
is the shock & awe tactic,
left, right, center of
the "debate"...
      excuses come
second...
          whatever groundwork
being established for the right,
some outlier comes
out and does the horrific...
******* clowns-run-the-circus
type of pandemonium...
what's lacking?
oh... right...
   so this is what empathy feels
like, to reply to Manchester,
Rotherham, etc., etc., etc.,
so...
this isn't o.k.?
yeah, yeah! what sort of idiot
finds success in mawling down
49 innocents,
when 3 jihadis fail
to take down 10?!
  ******* idiot...
off his rockers...
      yeah, yeah...
    wrote in the kind of cipher
that only mercury rising
autistic children are able
to decipher...
   complete ******!
let's insult him some more...
a BIG no no
for anyone listening
to choir songs...
          who? templars...
akin to salve regina...
now it's bad...
it's all bad,
it was always bad,
it was supposed to be bad,
and... i...
somehow...
was expected to feel:
good about it.
                 now?
now the pendulum game of
waiting,
  for the reply...
it usually takes around a month,
for the geniuses of Raqqa
to come back at us with
a compliment...
  until then...
  no stupid low i.q. jihadi
warriors...
just some stupid,
psychiatric evaluation prone
examples of piglet-skinned
outliers...
               well yeah...
thanks for the congregation...
for congregating the orthodox
schizoids with
the authentic, world-stage
killers...
   nice...
     ******* pristine aesthetics!
******* protected class...
what?!
  they were imitating performing
**** with their god,
looking at the way they pray?
****... if i supplied myself
to a confirmation,
i'd be performing
              ******* on my knees...
how many jihadi "warriors"
have you heard of,
that also supplied the general
public / journalists
with a, manifesto?
             can't name one...
but now, that's a bad thing,
a big no no,
              you can't do that...
you can't provide a genesis
of a narrative...
obviously...
not one jihadi was suspect
of a psychiatric disorder...
but... all these white counter-terrorists?
the whole lot of them
are schizophrenics...
now... i can understand
the general public processing
the disease on ground of metaphor...
then again,
the supposed the ratio of example:
1 case every 100 people...
how many of those 1 per 100 people
are blamed?
easily confined in a category reserved
for psychopaths?

no problem...
deflect...
      but the standard is already
settled:
no jihadi is mentally ill...
but all counter-jihadis, are...
  shame isn't even on the table
when playing this poker-game...

didn't you know?
jihadis are perfectly normal...
they are expected
to behave thus,
as whatever thus is,
in later installments...
    but the terrorist within?
instead of the 72 virgins,
he gets 72 insults...
and a pseudo-medical
    statement...
no jihadi was ever considered
mentally ill...
but... every white
counter-terrorist:
is a mental nut-job...
         look! look! he wrote a manifesto!
****... he's not dyslexic...
he's a meme aggregate...

like i already said...
what he did?
   it would probably take 3 jihadis
to complete...
no... wait... 137 divided by 7...
around 19 per head...
   (paris, bataclan)...

        ha ha...
mass ****** and the i.q. of
the mass murderer...
   sort of, deviating from the i.q.
debate concerning blacks
and whites...
more like...
   lone wolf attacks and jihadi
attacks...
   what?! it's red nose day!
              you just, 'ave to laugh!

if they're going to place
mental illness and stupidity
on brenton tarrant...
   legally: isn't he allowed
the warrant of defence?
          so i'm the objective scrutiny
of retelling comparative
counter examples...
      
              as stupid as 49 dead per head...
a jihadi gets...
          around 20 dead per head...
i forgot to condemn,
and succumb to outrage...
like: it would give me a better
moral compass to navigate
through all the social outrage...
i, simply, forgot...

   but look on the bright side!
at least he managed
to spread a revised concensus
for the appreciation
of empathy...
at least now...
innocent muslims,
can appreciate what innocent
christians felt,
when they were attacked upon,
indiscriminately;
and with the same, "bias".

By Jennifersoter Ezewi

Lacking means, battling life:
Hospitals cares with cash.

Lacking help, hopeless state:
Consolation passes by.

Installments made, non completion:
Ward round cares with eyes.

Treatments skipped, Deterioration sings:
Life goes into extinction.

foremostly: drink a little, and then write something,
there's absolutely no point in drinking
and rummaging an abdandoned house,
better still, what use would a spider have for
an abandoned spiderweb,
   that hasn't been kept in order, for two months?
what of the old hunched
crow-shadow posture in a chair?
            in poland i remember having trouble
associating myself with writing
in turkish akimbo on a hard communist concrete,
and the bare minimum of what
could be called a carpet...
              let alone the insomnia grandfather
snooping around at 12, 1, 2am...
     begging me to pretend to be falling asleep
while smoking cigarettes indoors,
   writing by candlelight in the kitchen...
it felt as it feels now:
               having lost a limb... but subsequently
having regrown one...
      there is no technique to what's
               closely associated with: rigour...
drinking is one thing:
                     writing habits? quiet another!
for starters there are offshoot verses
of nonsense, or: exploring the consequence
of simulating alzheimer's of some
sort...
              less metaphorical than the romance
with schizophrenia, the romance
that is a razor blade thrown to a person
drowning from anxiety...
                list: US consumes 50% of Xanax
production,
          the UK consumes 22%...
                            2017 sore 240 call-outs
for Xanax abuse by children aged between
11 and 14...
              half of mental problems
begin aged 14, three-quarters come
sober 18...
                         70% increase in rates
of depression in >25s...
   2 to 1 (:) ratio of women hiding
the same problems men have...
                50% increase in suicides in
England in the past decade -
                                hello Bristol university!
now that we juggled with the facts,
    like we might pass taking shots from
a bottle of ***** like some rude
teenagers in a playground in a park
   come the last solar hours of
                                         a sunsent...
facts: you can plagiarise -
          that's what they're there for -
no need for citing where i got them from,
one source is as good as the next.
         now... routine and writing...
   england is so different from poland -
namely, big town small town ergonomics -
small town? good chance you'll
get a romanticism bug... read a book
and start seeing swans in clouds...
               big town?
                    no real chance...
            talk-the-there's-no-talk scenario...
i had to remember how i used to function
in england, when the tactic i had for
treating anti-depressants as sleeping pills
actually worked...
                and no... it didn't involve
                 the affair of a bottle of ***** per
     night to imitate an executioner's axe...
or a mike tyson upper-cut for:
        seeing black-holes, of former stars...
god!
             death?!
                        black holes are the death of
stars, and yet they fascinate physicists more
than actual stars, which they reduced
                  to a hydrogen-helium interaction...
what i clearly forgot is my routine,
and the rigour involved in ushering in some
worthy blah-blah...
               my day constitutes of 48 hours...
which technically is two days,
                           but that's debatable...
stay up for a minimum of 24 hours...
                  actually, 24h is a breeze,
   not even worth contemplating since i only
stopped myself shy of doing a 48h+ stretch...
but, see... i became bogged down in
   video-books...
                    billions: ******* genius soundtrack,
very much akin to baby driver...
   but **** the precision of acting...
    favourite character?
                       WAAAAAAAAAAAGS....
a bit like snooping in on the wives of
european footballers once every four years...
binged the ******* that ****,
    finished season two and just waiting for
the next two installments...
            and?
                           versailles: on a techical
note... addressing Kant while watching
this ******* of a show?
                      power is better understood
than knowledge, visually, when contemplating
power: a priori,
                            so much easier...
   knowledge doesn't have the same rich
                                 association attached to it...
because? knowledge a posteriori
diffuses into perfecting replicas -
                    say the original cobbler...
        and subsequent cobblers and, "cobblers",
or trivial Cains...
                 visually speaking,
    since the dynamic of power, a posteriori
     is just blinding in terms of hierarchy...
         well, "blinding", i mean: illuminating...
another welcome routine prior to writing
something down and drinking at the same time?
solving a sudoku.
           this is the sudoku interlude -
   scatter-brain sequence (if you like):
           visually speaking power a priori creates
a more sensible visual explanation of
                            of power a posteriori...
          given that a priori power is a vacuum -
a priori knowledge doesn't exactly have
an agreeable imagination basis -
         to the pop. scrutiny...
                    ****... even retards know how
to laugh, even though they might not even concern
themselves with stand-up schematics
of a joke...
                  knowing how to laugh, is just like that...
the a priori knowledge of laughter
         is not designated to an exclusive
            a posteriori knowledge of laughter...
intellectual brown-nosing is the same
    as a ****** laughing: although i bet my wet-winkle
that i'll laugh with the ******,
                       than the intellectual pop-****.
power though...
              god, where do you even begin?
       the power that comes prior to
      the subsequent compenetration of
the anti-cartesian: res vanus replaces res cogitans,
yet res extensa remains intact...
           louis the 14th and the "thought" project
that became versailles...
                 and it would have been a "thought"
fabien marchal...
            it used to be monsieur philippe I,
but then i became bored of
my irritability of being unable to assimilate
the deviances to such carnal finalities...
best of all, just recently,
  the appearance of marquise de montespan
with her keen observation -
        purely a priori, well, 3's the lucky number...
the inverted crown woman...
  the crown of thorns woman...
       how she took hold of bouffon gossip cueues...
and became...
          sorry... she can't be defined as
          the king's favourite "mistress"...
          ha ha! she was the ******* madame!
feed the hydra another hungry bite at its
neck...
            and you can make a brothel legitimate
without the concept of money...
                   worded-"bribes"...
if she was a mistress of louis xiv
then i was the nun
           in the rocky horror show, if there was
any nun, in that movie...
            madame through and through,
because she became more obliged to the queen
than the king:
             misconcept of pushing women
rather than allowing them to fester
like sores?
                       heart becomes detached...
less... clingy...
                                       boyish...
packed with dormant dynamite lodged
in stone...
             but without the fuse of
an authentic woman's tongue that asks
for bribes in acts outside of the most piquant
affair of carnal festivity...
               endless ******* "metaphors"...
       which is no wonder why adultery is
what it is: an emotional and an even cognitive
investment in a: story, rather than
a mere body...
                          which is not to say that
the body isn't cherished:
                   last time i checked...
     i forgot to take my genitals with me to
the brothel... left it in the dollhouse
                                 of Barbie & Strappy...
yet what's persistent is the rigour in
writing the casually sporadic...
                    sleep deprivation and a diet of
decent video-books...
               a drink... a sudoku...
                    and the chance to catch up
with about 10 hours...
                             and having the ******
decency to do minor things that involve
other people's boring trivialities...
            like cooking dinner...
          feeding the cats...
                            watering the garden...
and trying to figure out:
                      that teenager who gave me
the ten quid he probably found
  (since it was so scruntched up) expecting
me to be his "good uncle" while buying
*****-juice?
                         ****, i thought i was gullible...
he didn't think i was going to
buy something beginning with vod-
                  as anything less than 37.5%?
he screamed and shouted at me...
                apparently the "good uncle" was
on his way, and instead a drunk father stood
before him, telling him:
         now you can take it from me and run
along to what's going to a heart-break
since the other guy and the girl you're trying
to impress have already run off
and you're standing with someone twice your age...
or?
        so putting the goods on the pavement
taking a step back and putting my hands
on my head said: your choice...
           it was your choice to give me the tenner...
but hey, i even put in a little extra
            because i probably misheard you...
just a madman's luck that he was screaming
at me as if i was scalping him
   which allowed for the attention
     of the supermarket
security guard to be prompted
         and some people in the carpark...
rare event...
      very plain... nothing too spectacular
                         like climbing mt. everest...
if he started screaming:
           you're buying alcohol for minors!
what, with my own money?!
            i gambled putting in 6 quid of
my own so that he wouldn't take a litre of
*****...
    hence he shouted: theft!
                           which made no sense since
he voluntarily gave me the ten quid...
          fascinating conundrum...
                   like **** i'd buy minors
                 alcohol using my own money...
some, the bigger the group:
          are smart enough to know the difference
between a common interest,
say, 5 guys and then the scenario becomes
         two pipsqueaks and a smurfette...
i already said it once:
                   me, beer, straight road...
some honest cases you can work with...
teenage tantrums of that sort?
lucky madman loser...
                 saved ten quid on a bottle of *****.

i can't say it isn't a learning curve, i.e.: how does it feel to pay
of a debt in... four installments? once £200... another time £250... another time at £600 and what's left-over is is? £277... and all of this? done by cash? well... it feels... a bit like giving £130 to a *******... wafer-think comparison... but it's almost on par... i'm just following up on the poems conundrum, autobiographical rigour & hotel reds.

i knew it wouldn't happen, it sounded too good to be true...
i knew she had a young daughter...
and like most prostitutes: she must have conspired
with her coworkers about the idea of... meeting a client...
outside of the hour-mark...
they must have said things like: what were you thinking?!
are you mad?
he propose the idea... no... i did...
                 i said maybe we can meet in a hotel room...
to which he replied... sure, we can go for dinner prior..
i'll bring some brandy...
i did the cost-analysis... she was obvious in a castle made
of clouds... because... isn't it obvious?
    why would i want to have any trouble in my life...
esp. if it's trouble with women?
      last one drew in into a student account overdraft
debt worth about £3000...
          tough times...
      the bank sent me a notice that my bank account
status of a student was about to expire...
  and that i couldn't have a interest-free overdraft
limit of £3000... that prior to going into the bank
and asking for the limit to be extended from £2500
because i had an emergency back "home" and i needed
to fly out for a funeral...

- - interlude - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - i was still close to lightning a cigarette right now...
i only stopped myself because i have some whiskey...
but... when i was painting the garden fence...
i was so ******* i started splashing the paint in rage..
no? mother dearests ask me because her neighbour
asked her to check if Bella the cat has clean water
and the frog's light is off... i hate being interrupted when
i write... i don't mind making concession when
speaking... but when i write and i'm interrupted...
it really is a peace pipe though... tobacco...
it's so much more soothing than outbursts of anger...
i guess marijuana is good for anger that builds
up... but when you need a quick fix... tobacco...
  maybe that's why i have almost have had this terrible
dry cough... my throat is irritated from the lack
of extra phlegm lining my throat... it's not a sore throat...
just sore when i cough... enough whiskey...
i'll be chirpy tomorrow... - - - - end of interlude - - - - - - - -

and i managed to wriggle out of that deficit...
by not exactly working: more suffering from lack of certain
pleasures... alcohol... tobacco...
although i did land that god-send of being paid out
about £3000 in damages for being a car-crash...
call it a fluke? i call it blood good luck...

tobacco: two occasions... to calm the nerves...
and to counter what otherwise caffeine does but caffeine
can't do with alcohol...
tobacco + alcohol...
    it's not caffeine + alcohol or for that matter ******* + alcohol...
sure... marijuana + alcohol used to work...
in my youth... if you were smart about it...
few were... tobacco + alcohol all the way...

i never enjoyed the credit system in capitalism...
i was very much always debit: el classico...
   sure... i have a student debt... "debt": the % on that
is so low and i need to be earning over £15,000 a year
to pay it off... but... here's the catch...
the debt gets written off after 30 years... or is it 25?
not for the quality of education they're selling people
right do i feel obliged to pay off this debt...
i've learned more once i left university
than i ever learned when i was inside it...

it's like that current job i'm doing...
sure... i might get paid peanuts compared to others...
but you know what some people
to have the sort of view i had
    at the Tyson Fury match? guess...
   oh man... the 25th of June and the 26th and i've
already pre-booked shifts for the Red Hot Chilly Peppers
performing at the London stadium...

i must have mentioned it... the people with S.I.A. training:
ex-military or ex-cons.... or ex-prison workers...
bouncers at doors... they did idiocy problem with
hierarchy... they love the rough and tumble...
so? they get paid more for a license...
oh man... so many of them have beautiful teeth...
smile that a Mongolian might only be envious of when
it comes to the English-man... it's that pretty...

me? i'm a crowd safety steward... ha ha...
or just someone who talks to people...
                       right... but these S.I.A. guys only get
£5 more hour... and where are they when an event takes place?!
outside...
stewards get paid... say... £10 an hour...
but that doe that entail? i get a free ticket...
i'm oh so tempted to change shifts from London Stadium
on the 12th to Wembley Stadium shift...
mammoth shift... starting at 7am finishing at 11pm...

eh.... but i haven't seen monster trucks in action...
and i'd like to see monster trucks in action...
it's almost as if: i'm going on dates with myself...
and i'm not paying for them: i'm getting ha ah ha *******
paid for them...

- knew it would have been good to be true...
i was already gearing up to disappoint from the myth
of a ******* ******* you in a hotel...
or rather... you know the story... stalemate...
but i'm no pompous Walt Whitman or for that
matter a tender Schwob...
              it is what it is... i won't bother her... until bother
her again... once i get paid at the end of June...
or maybe i should just move onto another woman...
i don't want to break her heart
as she said the unattainable words of reciprocating:
i love you....
    i *******...
        if she would have said: i need you...
i don't think i'd still say i love you...
                     of the things that man loves...
cycling... swimming... walking alone in the fields
or in the forests or among mountains...
i dread the idea that women are merely reciprocating
the hopes and ambitions of the most unimaginative men...

come Monday i was gearing up... "forgot" to buy supplies...
by Tuesday i was going full turkey
from a lack of alcohol stimulation and nicotine stimulation...
i was purging... i had the shivers in the night...
i was pretending to have dreams when it fact i was
just hallucinating with my eyes closed:
this one dream? my dead cat.... Oscar Darshan...
was walking in a host of sheep into my abode... to perfection...

i did have a cold... snotty nose... numbing aches
and pains all over my body from Teusday
night through to Wednesday morning... after ingesting
some cider... smoking that cigarette:
there was no fault with the paint! the fault was in:
my fence... to my left... the wood is of better quality...
precision marking: blindly even... to right?!
low quality timber! ******* ******* seagulls *******
while also taking a ****!

that being said: i have to toil by the sweat of
my brow tomorrow...
i have 1 tonne of rough sand to transfer from
the access road to my garden... no wheelbarrow...
old-school way... whichever way that is...
in buckets... shovel... good exercise...

but for someone who's been missing for the past two days...
not bad... i say no bad...
i started to binge watch some of: the good wife...
because... at least it's not drama set in a hospital
and you expect everyone to be sociopathic *******...
now...
    i'm going to have a second cigarette of today and
wonder why this isn't worth 3,000 words....
oh...but there are additions pointers to be made...

what is the usual knock-out blow of alcohol,
nicotine, 250mg of naproxen
500mg of paracetamolum
+ diphenhydramini hydrochloridu (25mg)...

exactly? what was my "detox list of suggestions"?
phenegran (25mg), 2-4-dichlorobenzyl alcohol,
amylmetacrescol,
paracetamol, promethazine, dextromethorphan,
pseudoepherdrine, pholcodine...
ethanol, sucrose, glucose, propylene glycol...

yeah... what a welcome change...
old habits die hard... mind you: i needed to reiterate
being rejected by a ******* from:
****...i wasn't rejected...
            i just felt like a tonne of bricks
at the donkey... sure... even i have dreams...
i'd love to spend the last years of my life
in some region of Russia or Norway...
              maybe that too will be soul crushing when
my time comes...
i've already had the heart of youth crushed by
not being able to find anyone outside the realm
of merely *******...
          "only child syndrome":
               or... simply... how i adapted to what was
to come... the rarity of a large family.