Pada tiap bait puisiku
berisikan lantunan merdu
perihal dia dan suka.
Larik-larik sajaknya dirancang manis
menyurat rasa yang tersirat.
Pada tiap bait puisiku
kuingat tatapnya yang hangat dan malu-malu
membuat aku gugup melulu.
Dipuisi ini, kutulis rayu dalam kata
tuk ramu gugupku jadi haru.
Pada Rabu di sorenya
bernada, mendera, bergelora
berbicara perihal harinya yang gembira.

Rabu ke rabu
Abu semakin kelabu
Mengapa aku bersendu?
Aku yang kecewa dan mengecewakan

Semoga kelak kau semakin berharga
Begitu pun aku
Sehingga jika diizinkan bertemu kembali,
kita mampu bersinar bersama

what a whacky weekend, it's finally over, a shift at the Romford ice rink watching Romford Raiders vs. Peterborough Phantoms, selling tickets, ones by card, others by cash, checking pre-booked ones... and then? the easiest shift... watching the game... i have to be honest: the first time i watched ice hockey live i was bored stiff... but then again i was on top of the stands looking down on the game... from a high place looking down? it's... a really **** sport... BUT... today i had more flexibility... i was next to the rink... i have to admit: to watch ice hockey properly you need to be really close to the ice... and compared to the Oxford United shift?! **** me... im never doing that ****** shift ever again! ten hours out of the house and for what? £35 quid? here i can wear black trainers, i don't need to wear a white shirt or tie... i "work" for 4hours and get paid for 5... plus? i can cycle here and be back before i know it... total time spent out of the house? maybe 4.5hours... plus at the ice rink might get a free hot dog like today and a free drink: plus as it happens in ice hockey, the whole play-stop routine the DJ will play some sample of a song, today i managed to hear a sample (donkey's years old - September Cry For You... i knew it but forgot it, but remembered the lyrics: you'll never see me again ¶but that's not about all of that... i was talking with my coworker about finishing our shift at Wembley yesterday, she finished much later... oh! it took me ages to get home! i only got home at 4am - i sort of blundered and replied: yeah, me too... she's quick to pick up lies - but didn't the trains work? oh no, they did. so how come you only got in at 4am? oh, i don't know (****, one little white lie will not pass her, she was already growing suspicious, i should have just told her the hypothetical truth that i managed to get home at after just 1am... and i would have, i got to Stratford and spotted that the Southend Victoria bound train was via Romford, and not via Shenfield... it was supposed to come in 5 minutes by the time i was standing on the platform, but suddenly it became delayed, a passenger was taken ill... it would take forever for the train to start again... the original plan was to go the brothel, but i figured: i might as well go home early, get some chicken on the way at Romford and catch the last bus home, get in early and write for a while... but then the ill passenger made me return to my original plan). ¶well an hour or two later i had to own up as to why i came in at 4am, so i told her: well, you know... the reason why i came home at 4am is because i had, a slight, ahem "detour"... she looked at me smiled and sort of giggled... oh: that sort of "detour"? yeah... the beautiful thing about this was that i gave no further explanations... maybe she figured it out, maybe she didn't...

I.

well... at it's not me scribbling with squint eyes after having
have to catch four night buses to come home from Wembley
from a shift at 4am... this time i stopped over
at the brothel...
i can't help myself:
i can hit the ultimate high but then follow up with
the lowest of lows...
i even managed to buy a t-shirt... ****'s sake...
what are the chances of a "tour" of "compensation":
paying tribute to a drummer...
with only two dates of tribute... today's currently the 4th...
i don't exactly: love love Foo Fighters...
they can't topple the pyramid of Red Hot Chilli Peppers...
but it's still so much better than
what i heard the previous night.. Garage...
i had to buy that £40 t-shirt... they were running low
on the one i really liked: the yellow one...
i bought the black one... waited...
soon the merchandise shops opened again and the yellow
one was made available once more...
oh man... it's 4am and it's not like i just took 4 night buses
to get home...
i took the tube from Wembley Park to Stratford and then...
plans changed twice... i was originally planning
to visit the brothel... then...
a Southend via Romford bound train was supposed
to come... o.k. forget the brothel...
but then... a passenger became ill on the train
and the train became delayed indefinitely...
**** me... off to the brothel i go...

it was sort of gladdening to have seen
    josh homme...
                 brian johnson... liam gallagher...
roger taylor... rufus taylor...
   brian may... who else was there?
brian mccartney... the pretenders, i.e. chrissie hynde...
i had the best view in the stadium...
at the far end opposite the stage... fifth level Wembley...
in the disabled (accessibility sector)...
easy... boring... 12 hour leg numbing shift...

no... i don't really like the Foo Fighters...
i like Andrea though, our supervisor... this tiny little
creature with spectacles that looked
so quirky lifting her spectacles up
and looking at a page when writing like she might
have looked at bacteria through a microscope...
darling: she called me...
      yes: the the great big world would eat me up
with a yawn and i'd still reply: yawn great big
world... should i meet her ever again:
a woman of my implant idealism... of borrowed books
and failed loves...

i have a t-shirt to prove that i was at this gig...
that's all i have... but i don't think i was there...
i think i was looking for my shadow in Andrea's shadow...

i'm pretty sure someone died...
oh man... going to the brothel this tired is always a bad
idea... more unprotected ***...
but this time Khedra was different...
she kept whispering: **** a blonde little baby into me...
half asleep but nonetheless with a *******
i was thinking: what?!
three aphrodisiacs... the proper cider... exercise and
excess tiredness...
a complete ****-up of the senses....

even now it's coming to 5am and i'm thinking about
that *******'s slapping of a shift at the ice-rink
tomorrow from 4 through to 8...
i never thought that ice-hockey could be just a boring
sport to watch...
i.e. where's the puck?! hockey to me is a bit like
monotheists in prayer...
lunatics... at least the pagan Hindus throw spices
and more spices around to cover themselves in excess of
what can be sometimes missing in nature...
but monotheistic reasoning for procrastinating
within the confines of labouring the bend and beating
of prayer to an otherwise deity that demands
the "prayer" of "thought" rather than
the deification through a "prayer of the body"
and use of the tongue...
    monotheism ought to never be about pseudo-paganism
of procrastination with idle words on idle
tongues of idle bodies... the matrimony of lunacy
of bending objects...
monotheism is a sort of telepathy...
a telekinesis...
prayer should be abolished in monotheism...
as well as all the lunatic deifications of monotheism...
esp. in Islam and Judaism...

                monotheism ought to start to equate
thinking with speaking...
by that standard... collapse it furthermore...
the freedom of thought is not the same as the freedom
of speech... in that writing: with writing being
the extension of thinking: the medium of writing
is not an invitation to speak, but rather an invitation to think!
monotheism speaks like the pagans speak...
too much... monotheism has as many mantras
as polytheists have...
the only difference is that the monotheists have
abstracted their deities as cryptic language structures...

in the crypts of the ciphers:
one can find at least one decipher... some sacred word...
either over-used: e.g. blah-lah
or under-used: the acronym yhwh...
of Æ... when Adam was a Siamese twin with Eve...

i'm sort of... half blinking... i have these half closed
eyes: i'm squirming and pretending to blink....
i lay mountains in a single valley
and later called this same mountain range
a witness of the canary's song that could
encompass a folding of a cave to boil a river
to a standstill: from a sea create a river
and from a lake a mirror...
what miser ******* i'm thinking:
thank god i'm simply thinking it rather than speaking
it in arena of rhetoric...

let clouds be puffs of negative-salt clusters...
negative-salt clusters so that they can absorb
"positive-water" into their invisible gobs...
and... like seagulls... carry the food-stuff over
kilometres of agony... from sea toward land...
from rivers to the lakes...
and then back again... from the lakes toward
the seas...

II.

i must have been really tired yesterday, i just abandoned
part I. altogether: i don't want to know what i've written,
i'm not rereading it... i'll have to rewrite some aspects
of it...
                 today i feel livelier and actually awake...

1. i figured out the brothel, finally! it took me some time!
half an hour sessions... no more those 1 hour sessions...
why? i can go more often, ergo i can **** all of them in the brothel,
so much so that i will have to start looking for
a new brothel... one hour sessions don't work anymore:
if i am to please a woman who i never met,
i either will or i won't... and that will be within the confines
of half an hour...

2. my three favourite aphrodisiacs are:
(a) cider + a little bit of whiskey + a cigarette or two
(b) exercise
(c) tiredness... my god... every time i came back
from a very long shift i would try to relax before
writing by jerking off... each and every time i would
get a ******* like clockwork....
i guess tiredness switches the mind off completely
and you feel more and more uninhibited...
mix that with aphrodisiac (a) and made (c) comparable
to the effects of (b)... hey presto!

a rare moment for me... original thinking while sitting
and listening to my father dictate to me
the invoice i'm just writing
myślnik: i.e. dash or hyphen (-)
od nowego akapitu / wiersza:
            from a new / "poem"
it's not actually a new "poem", it's more a new verse...
i.e. it's lazy speaking because it's not
actually akin to the sign applied in medieval
times to use up as much paper with
an indicator for a new paragraphs
employing the ¶ (the blind P): come to think of it,
i think i'll employ it in the italic section of the intro.
i just added... them... the pilcrow...
it was used to use up as much paper as was available...
these old texts never wasted space...
but a revelation came when writing my father's invoice:
thank god i'm an employee and i do not have
to write any invoices or do any tax self-returns...
of all the people employed i don't know whether anyone
else is in my position...
but the revelation came with...
i remember my English teacher: the Scot didn't teach us
much English... he introduced me to jazz and a love
for Led Zeppelin rather than Black Sabbath...
but i remember his one major lesson:
you, don't, start, a, new, sentence,
with: a, conjunction, namely: and!
you can't stand a sentence with And...
what is the semi-colon for?

after all, what's the semi-colon in Arabic?
either the letter(s) dh (the H is a surd borrowed
from the name of the Hebrews' deity)
                  ذ or Z(ed)               ز    -
aren't these semi-colons?! ; ذ ز
                                                               ­ ?

but i had a split consciousness: the cat that was sleeping
in my bed decided to jump out of the window and
sit on the roof of the kitchen...
while i was typing the invoice...
when i got back into the bedroom he was still
sitting on the roof... i have an invisible leash
on my cat... the moment he saw me perched
on the windowsill: i smoked one cigarette: he noticed me...
he jumped straight back into the room
and is current sleeping on my bed...

a split consciousness? what song to listen to?
the original i started with? September cry for you?
Collie Buddz Sensimillia?
Stephen Marley hey baby / iron bars
or Combichrist sent to destroy?
obviously the foremost...

i had to scribble this note down in between writing
the invoice:

/ aesthetic:
                                                      ­   look up Gothic
    bl.... blah blah. Also...                  a script and ᚱᚢᛖᛋ
                  no!                                       ­                       Σ
b (scribbled out)
"           "          "   ; also

                                          via example of And at beginning
                                             of (a) sentence
                                             is a massive
                                                         ­     no-no! /

some Copernican rotations in place... notably
via the Runic E (ᛖ) and the Greek S (Σ)
and obviously the work that went into crafting
the Roman S and ...
huh? i never heard about this 'un... the sigma-reflection...
what's this?

                           σ² ≡ E

id est: a twofold reflection on one plane
produces the operation of identity;
     any planar molecule has at least one mirror plane.

ugh... coding... something for termites...
    <p><var>a²</var>
                                   and what modern poet dabbles
in STEM methodology? people are still complicated?
or just plain ******* daft... having created so many complications
of their / adding toward their lives outside of themselves?
i think it's the latter...
there's no longer a need to concern oneself for
"being there":

Heidegger was slow on picking up on what
Zhuangzi talked about beyond his grave:
   the... grammatically correct "concern": or rather...
in the eyes of the Chinese rather than the German
concept of "there being" as that of concern...
the Chinese variant was always "being there" with
a sense of non-doing... some thing are unchangeable...
yes, pressed by the continuum of un-change-ability...
you can't alter the sun or the gravity the planets are fed
by it...
  to orbit...
               unlike Egyptian hieroglyphs... Chinese hieroglyphs
are ideograms... they are more than sounds:
they are as simple as sounds of letters...
whether alone or coupled... but they are also IDEAS...
ergo, they are ideograms...
"being there" is one of these...

                           在: zai... roughly, i'm not an expert...
i'm a: LA-IK... but Heidegger preached the wrong sort
of thinking, if Tao is the correct sort of thinking:
this is the contention (from the Chinese prespective)
against the German interpretation of da-sein...
i'm not concerned: that would be very Christian of me...
i'm not a fraud of F.O.M.O. (fear of missing out):
that takes concern... i know i can't change the world:
i can only change myself in order to grow into myself...

ANY AND ALSO are grand examples of when
the semi-colon ought to be used in a sentence,
a semi-colon is a follow-up to a thing already stated...
... yes... i use that puncture marker when
i'm following up one thought with another...
it's not aesthetically pleasing, but then again i am not wasting
any paper or using a type-writer...

but i have (i've) seen too many books in print
where a sentence opens up with such: DISGRACE
(the negation of grace, the prefix dis-, id est)

it figures... i'm too intelligent to **** neuro-typical women...
i need to **** prostitutes...
i'm not even paying myself a compliment...
i walked back from the shift peering into the houses...
ageing couples... one on one armchair
another on another armchair... living the easy:
mortal life... oh **** me...
alone again... the children flew their nest...
just waiting for a spot in the old people's home:
Protestantism is so cruel when it comes to old age...
it's spectacular when you're young!
me? i'm sticking around...
i applied the Japanese method of *******...
sure... no long partner: no need to talk...
at least the Japanese are unabashed about
complications of housing... at least they're open
about the ラブ ホテル (rabu hoteru)...
spares me the need to **** prostitutes: but no!
oh no! no no!
i need to **** prostitutes to avoid my makeshift
boney **** of a hand!
i need to eat, i need to sleep, i need to ****...
i don't care what the WASPS spew from over the "pond":
i stopped listening a long time ago...

hey! Darwinism preached adaptation...
i'm adapting! it's called... have you heard the term?
E-VO(h)-LOO-SH-ON?!
i know it's spelling evolution...
but you hardly hear the T to begin with...
well... if God made Poland his playground
(according to Norman Davis)
i'll just make England MY... mein SPIELPLATZ!
sorry... not England: ING-LEASH!
this is my playground!
                  
                                 well if God can make Poland
his playground for the Turks, the Swedes,
the Russians and the Germans to pretend to tickle
and juggle... i'll make his favorite tongue:
my... playground... i''ll make sure as many people
come to London as are readily available...
let's see, "god"... who's going to start having
a *****-fit... i can watch the natives become minorities...
don't worry... i'll fit in just plain dandy with the other
minorities: they won't even know where the ****
i'm from... they'll think i'm English but when i tell them
that i'm not German they might have a second
thought: why have so many Arab names
popped up as "friends" on my facebook?!

that's the thing about Slavs... English speaking people
associated Orcs with Africans...
well... where's Mordor? East?!
last time i checked... are these people going to be throwing
pronoun-grenades at the Russians as the Russians
starve Europe from a gas supply?!
oh sure sure... the "worship" of "correct" pronoun
usage is already keeping me warm: the warmth of WRATH...
maybe i didn't have children because i thought that:
my natural intelligence wouldn't be passed down
and they would become products of their
environment and peer pressure?!
i think so... i think i refrained from having children
because i thought: mein gott! and what if they might
be swayed by idiots?! guttrauer (good grief)...
imagine!
- but as i was walking back from the shift...
i noticed these old couples... me god, their ageing so quickly...
i sticking put... my parents invested in me...
now i'm going to invest in them...
i'm not moving... i'm not going to rent...
i'm sitting on money! i'm sitting on Smaug's ransom!
i'll keep them youthful for as long as i can...
they will not be sitting in two armchairs alone
before a t.v. with pictures of their children and grand-children
hanging on the wall...
they'll just have to deal with the insolent drinking
alone little me...
i'll entertain them... i'll do the household chores...
i'll cook for them... i'll do the d.i.y.:
they're not going to be packaged like ******* mushrooms
into the dark into an old people's home...
and whatever women that comes into my...
ah... ah ha ha ha... what woman? for a relationship?!
relationship with: what, exactly?!
i already have sway over a woman's body whenever i feel
like it: whenever i feel like...
do women have intellect? i.e. talk about what?
other people... i've heard it before...
you couple with a woman and all she wants to do is
talk about how happy she is when she's with you seeing
other women being single: how "superior" she is...

what conversation? the best conversations i ever had
were with strangers or when i started to write...
when i untangled my thinking into not-thinking...
i wouldn't appreciate a life of simply being lazy
existentially... this is not the right sort of time to be lazy
existentially: why? becoming existentially focused
by the simple demand of external forces that force
you to beg for explanations: just like the 20th century
proved is no beginning or, for that matter:
an encapsulation of: what?
do people really think literacy is omnipresent?!
if it truly was... we wouldn't have people scratching
letters in graffiti mode on brick walls like
those of Lascaux... sure... the caves imploded:
but the skyscrapers exploded...

how times change...
back in the day, even Milan Kundera lamented
the sayings of Neville Chamberlain...
what were those?
how horrible, fantastic, incredible it is that
we should be digging trenches and trying
on gas-masks here because of a quarrel in
a far away country between people of
whom we know nothing
that explains a lot... Czechoslovakia is
just a little bit nearer Ukraine... Ukraine is on the map!
far far way: i'm pretty sure the British became
confused by digging the Suez canal:
India suddenly became West of Ireland...
when it came to navigating ships!

that's the thing about the Slavs... we'd sooner start
a war amongst ourselves than succumb
to some Germanic festering wound of the intellect:
pronouns! blah blah ha!
the Germanic consolidation project for Europe:
hell! bring the entire world to our shores!
that's an Germanic intellectual starvation project!
the Slavs, like Orcs: would sooner fight among
themselves than tempt the idiot cross-eyed
serpent of the Germanic Twilight of Intellect...

today i learned the reason why i was so attracted
to that middle-aged woman from London Stadium
who looked like a frightened doe: in head-lights...
i was coupled with her at the Basildon shift...
isolated... i had to talk to her...
       Chill-y... she's actually Turkish... i would have
never known! i like Turkish and Romanian girls...
hell... if English girls have this post-colonial
black fetish against their fathers...
i'll pick one (fetish) for myself... wait... i have one...
we're good... we're equal...
now? more! more! more!
i need to fry my mind with as much ****-box-*****
as possible!
i'm not stopping: something was woken in
me that should be sleeping a tight monogamous sleep...
that's not, going to happen...
like all the beautiful girls that turn out to
be prostitutes: akin to nature's sake:
everyone would love to live through
seeing a tornado, a daffodil blossom...
******* a beautiful girl...
a man with many arrangements:
i don't want to be selfish...

last night was just, plainly, weird...
i can't remember the last time i was asked so many
questions...
Khedira asked me: so... did you prefer Michaela...
who? the short plump girl with great ****?!
the blow-up *** of pump?
or did you prefer the taller girl?
i'm just asking, as a friend... the former...
something was afoot...

the wind blows in cold into my bedroom...
it's a welcome breeze... it folds itself around
my ankle prior to strangling me around the neck
while kissing my forehead...

the glorious 4 were sitting there...
the one with the glasses was incredibly talkative...
Mona... Mina? does it matter... she was wearing
glasses...
where have you been? i ripped off my
bands... showed her: Wembley... the Taylor Hawkins'
tribute concert... oh... dearest Adriana...
that supervisor... please don't call me darling...
not when we're working... my name is enough...
out of the 4 i chose the predictable non-****** ****..

as you do...

i haven't seen Khedra for a while... the started with her
usual *******: thank **** that she doesn't charge me
for unprotected ***... either oral or vaginal...
i felt sort of relaxed-tired from not having to put
on the rubber... but we Polacks and Turks are
cleanly people: we wash ourselves regularly...
i can't remember the last time i *******
a *****-load into a woman while she whispered
into my ear that she wanted a blonde baby:
eating and burning my blonde mustache and love-bruise
of hair growth (catching up to the length of
my length of beard... some ******* quarrel between
a boy and a girl while i was leaving Wembley,
he breaks the argument... direct her sight toward
me with: i love your beard! my bib?! i.e. t-shirt...
forty quid... i'm later informed he was talking about
my beard and not my t-shirt... what?!
i've just spent 6 hours in an environment
where you have to don ear-plugs...
what?! i can't her you! EAR PLUGS!
you can still hear the music, but you can't sense
the vibrations! bib?! 40 quid... oh! right... oh! beard...
yeah... thanks... it took 3 years to grow)

but i had to **** Khedra firt... i slapped her ***...
she slapped me... i wish she slapped my face...
i deserved it... i was asking permission without asking
permission: oh... Mina looks lively...
the one wth the glasses... she's happy...
how about we have a *******...
that's the second time i've bee asked to have a *******...
i know Khedra could make a ******* magical...
seriously... i watched as she harked up some bad
*******...
next time i told her... before she gulped and swallowed
an "oyster" of my missing *******...
2nd ******* *******... well... **** me...
i'm not exactly readied to disembody myself:
quit certainn limbs: on a whim...
who's paying? of course i'm paying!
i'm not paying for food! i'm paying for the *******!
dating is such a 20th century sort of past-time...

people: get with the times!
the 20th century requires closure:
you're not giving it!
   i told her: next time... next time...
sure... you and Mina can please me...
i hope this second ******* will be much better than the frist...
i'd love to see you two kissing...
before competing for the oyster Olympics
of slapping ****...

me god... first she ****** me off then she decided:
you did enough work arching over me in the missionary
position... i'll ride you...
women are strange that way...
they speak during *** like men might speak
during sleep...
what i heard...
what didn't i hear? i'm sure as **** knowledgeable
not hearing any lies...
i don't pay for lie... i pay for ****....
after she finished her oral ***
and climbed onto me and told me to look into
the mirror...

i was thrilled with warm-shivers...
it wasn't an ******...
but close enough...
           she was stalling... shivers...
shivers: she was stalling a ******...
******-lost *** is... is what it is...
i was her parterened self re-partnered...
he clicked: a wet ***** a hard-on ****
of an uncircumcised phallus...

upon insertion? you always aim below
the floral patterns of the ****...
of the *****... you aim an inch above the ****
at the root of the ****...
it's a bit like undoing a woman's bra...
inserting your "weapon" into a woman's
"shield"... sword-sheath-sword-sheath...
metaphorical, "metaphorical": of course...

but she did say: you taste all of them!
don't me mind! if i'm readying myself...
you choose another: choose another!
have as many women as you please!
don't feel obliged to choose only me!
well: doesn't love have to be shared?!
i can't be selfish! i can't just love one woman
when so many women are left loveless!
can i? i must love as many woman as are readily
available!
if i find boy exclaiming: i love your beard, mr.
i'm pretty sure the women are tediously shy
about a great number of details about me!

die forderungen von dies nacht ar fertig!
the demands of this night are finished!
ein tag kann gewinnen sie mit
morgen sonnenaufgang

                                              alle­ mit morgig verheiße.

what a ****-show...
    i don't have the luxury of renting... not in London...
i know that in Anglo-Saxon culture living
with your parents in your 30s is a bit weird...
and well into your 40s... probably your 50s...
magically weird...
     i truly understand it...
         how could a boy "love" his parents so much?
love?! what the **** is that?
i loved my grandfather, maternal...
my paternal 'un abandoned my father...
i don't even know what my paternal grandmother
looks like... or looked like... is she dead?
don't know...
            i have a fond memory of my maternal
great-grandmother...
she used to feed my grandmother: toddler...
opiates on the front in between the warring
Germans and Russians so she would shut up...
opiates... makowina... a poppy-seed milk...
my maternal great-grandfather?
oh... i remember him too...
a shadow... a shadow-form...
probably my first memory...
   he used to be a security guard at a nursery...
so one time he took me on a shift...
he played the big piano... i played the little piano...

it does look weird... it feels weird...
but me renting a house with random flatmates
while making some Pakistani landlord rich?!
sorry... what?!
       and living with five random strangers would
make it easier to go out and bring some poor
girl round for a one-night stand?
would it? could it?!
    as much as i abhor English egalitarianism...
i'm going to have to side with the Japanese
and the love-hotels:

learn from the outsiders... of all Asians the Japanese
are most likely to feed into the beloved state
of European queer... in-ness...
the isolated "genius"...
    of all the Asian people... the Japanese feel as much
isolation as the Europeans...
why do you think they competing with "us"
in ski-jumping events?!
  eh?!   any Thai any Chinese ski-jumpers?!
the eternal smile of Noriaki Kasai...
                                  ノリアキ   カサイ...
i love sport... i love sports...
   female tennis... ++... Olympic judo... Olympic wrestling...
Olympic pingpong... Olympic archery...
i love sport because i'm not a fanatic
football hooligan...
           i like kissing rough...
sometimes biting lips... sometimes smashing teeth
against teeth...

point being?
                   ラブ ホテル
(rabu hoteru) - love hotel...
                     well... we don't have that in Europe...
we just have brothels...
and the alternative being?
is there an alternative?
                  
i couldn't love just one woman...
which makes me smiles whenever, yet another Muslim
colt decides to be all brass-***** and blow himself up
for a reward he hasn't tested in owning...
hmm... hmph... ah ha ha...
it's as if none of them sat in a waiting room
of a brothel with a carriage of... line in sight...
folded, naked legs...

or ****** two at a time...
   i'm wondering about these supposed "martyrs"...
these involuntary-celibate frustrations...
sure... some ego-boost if i had my own condo...
revenue of a corporate lawyer blah blah...
eh... life's cheap... no need to buy dinner
or cocktails... we used to do that
in our teens... an art gallery ticket: bought by me...
a cinema ticket... bought by me...
a sushi bar finish off... bought by me...
then the grand disappointment...
a blow-job on the bunk-bed... she shared with her
sister... telling me while she was doing
the deed: what would by daddy think
if he saw me...

     **** your daddy... and i'm ******* off...
talk during *** is a bit like...
a bit like... ******* out a tapeworm when you're
also constipated...
i don't understand talk during ***...
can't eyes just speak for eyes...
eyes eat eyes... and... onomatopoeias...
can't we just pretend like we want to say
something: but can't?!

of course it's weird that i still live with my parents...
down the road an Asian household
undermined the English architectural sensibility
with three-generations of Asians living under
one roof: "Baroque" ugliness...
sorry... forgot the hyphens...

                 i get it... angry living among white people...
angry whittle-Asian kids... don't blame me...
blame your parents... for abducting you:
for not teaching you your mother tongue...
it's so funny when they become angry
in a tongue that's not theirs'...
akin to Asian Dub Foundation's: La Haine...
oh sure... because the Japanese are on board...
******... Pan-Asian reinterpretation of
of the Pan-Slavic movement that was Communism...

reiterated with the ****** left in the west...
pink hair: rainbows! rainbows! unicorns! unicorns!
not all Asians are Pakistanis...
some are Japanese folk that like
competing with Europeans: ski-jumping...
because we share: winters...
******* copper-necks...
        RE-TAR-DO PRIMO DELUXE!

it's not enough for a Genghis Khan to ****
your women once...
it takes a mind like me to **** your
women twice...
thank you: Manchester bombing...
yeah... thanks... Bangalore and
Lahore is: waiting with open arms!
Darwinism and the leftover of logic...

                 funny how these angry youths
are not speaking their own tongue:
oh... i have a retainer...
i was spreading it concerning the conflict in
Ukraine... brat brata pocharata...
i still have my tongue:
i was born into it...
                 too bad for these metaphysical nomads...
who probably require psychiatric care...
since... they can't be evaluated as quantifiably
believable...
   no... most of them? i've seen
the "process": INBREDS...

awkward looking people...
         INBREDS... they look comfortable...
but if i were adorned in Hugo Boss **** uniform...
eh?!
  would i, think, twice?!
i like the idea of dangling a stick... while eating a carrot...
but i also like dangling a carrot and...
using the stick for kink...

my mind warped... sorry...
you don't come near me...
even i don't want to come near me...
no one comes near me, unless it's trying to **** me...

ha ha... Muslim colt martyrs
wishing for a harem...
the same ones... that... never visited a brothel?!
wow!
o.k. let's test the waters... and of the supposed 72 virgins
how many would: could: would:
cut the phallus off of the dear: "adventurer"?!
dearest... Odysseus?!

how many could bed the said "satyr" for eternity?!
i'm... *******... waiting!
Asian my ***...

yeah... it's weird that i still live with my parents...
do they have to pay mortgage payments?!
no...
do i own Nicholas II banknotes...
and gold coins with the effigy... yeah...
but i'm "poor"... so?
do i own a rare bibliography... yeah...
but do women look beyond the stated obvious...
no? so? i'll be 70 years old looking at a 20 year old girlfriend...

i'll become a true artist!
        or i'll just simply **** myself...
    because... why the hassle? why the bother...
              i like blinking at a blankness and nothing
and something resembling a tree...
and that's because:
sometimes... people seem...
oh seem... oh so very... "borrowed";

can't tell the difference whether i want to **** on them,
**** on them or simply ***** on them;
hell... maybe all three... or perhaps the one...
finding that marvelous medieval cure using
leeches... bleeding out... maybe that's my first choicest
of choices.

aren't the dentists in England forcing people to
drink too much whiskey and perform the "detail"
using pliers?!
    really?! it's that bad?! the herald state of capitalism
is hiding dentistry issues?!
           thank god that i don't need anyone
to do my nail-clipping.

this one girl i was trying to date...
beautiful auburn ginger hued NPC...
her dog started licking my wounds on my knuckles...
weeks passed... i turned into a dog...
and started to nibble on my wounds...

father, dearest... mother's not dead!
first day she's gone...
he comes home and i get a shouting down...
why isn't the fence painted?!
why why why...
but the hockey stick is still a hockey stick...
ice is still ice...
i cooked  medium rare steak...
and the chips...
and i poached the pepper just about right
with the green beans?

i will never fall in love with q woman:
i can't allow myself to belong to somone
so much...
       no! nein! niet! nie!
         we were eating steaks come 5pm...
in absolute silence...
              you love her too much: you miss her too much:
i can't lace myself to love a woman like that...
let's just put it plain: YOU'RE WEIRD...
not fantasy weird akin to...
              NORMAN BATES....
   just ******* weird...
               normal weird...

i'm not you father...
i need to **** more women and love them
even less... i need to die with a heart of stone!
call me night... call me wind... call me the defeaning
wilting of all things confined to a skull.

i don't remember being this nervous in a long time:
not that i should: well... i should be...
long gone are the days of Jack the Ripper
or for that matter Samuel Little...
                      take such lengths to enact revenge on
prostitutes? slim pickings... they're the one that
will get any man "laid":

let's face it, i'm not a Westerner, i have more Russian
and Oriental inclinations than any Westerner:
who were the last defenders of European paganism
i.e. of Lithuania? the Polacks were...
i have more akin to the Islamic world since
the Northern Crusades were staged near "my" peoples'
vicinity... if it wasn't the Lithuanians
it was the Prussians... funny: how the Prussians
became the dominant force in German politics
(after their forced conversion)...
    a little bit of history...
      
i'll be on the forefront of the complications of a rise
in living standards, sorry: cost of living standards...
i'll tell you when it becomes unbearable...
how will i know? well... if litre of whiskey goes
above £16 / £19... then life will become difficult:
i'll have to cut down: until that happens...
oh... and if she starts charging me more than £120
per hour... well i figured the dynamic of the brothel
a few months ago when i started earning decent
cash... rather than saving it up: incrementally...
that's why i work: to spend the money on prostitutes...
who else is going to keep the economy going?
you can't exactly keep the economic model going
solely on: whiskey, vinyl records... oh... socks that
need replacing... shoes that need replacing on the verge
of falling apart... trousers that need replacing:
chemical paraphernalia: shampoo etc.

   how many nail clippers do i need? for ****'s sake?!

summer is "officially": thank god for that!
the cold, kühl, die kälte: CHŁÓD!
it's in the air, come morning and come evening:
and all throughout the night... finally!
i missed it for almost forever: the almost eternal
night has finally lifted up her skirt and spread
her legs: next on the "menu": the frost...
MRÓZ! unlike English: other languages have
nouns that are of either masculine or feminine nature...
this "trend" can be found in English: but it's rare
and by rare i also invoke the verb: forced into
being attributed a masculine or a feminine tendency:
most nouns are gender-neutral: neuters....
the sun is a he, the moon is a she... the earth is a she...
nature: by definition is a she, i.e. mother...
maybe that's why there's this neo-Marxist "revolution"
taking place in the English speaking world...
"grammar revision": fanatical pronoun sects...
there's more to language than the veneer of shouting
down one's opposition...
i just can't wait for the frost:
the paparazzi glitter of flashing diamonds
on the pavement when the magnolias start blooming
in mid to late February...
i used to roam the streets at night looking for the earliest
signs of spring...
i think i'll pick up on my most favourite of pastimes...
walking, drinking into the vivid night...
alone: best alone...
footsteps as the echo of my thoughts...

but of course i'm nervous...
   i just spent £50 on lingerie at Anne Summers' yesterday...
i walked in cool as a cucumber (sorry,
cliché, unavoidable, sometimes)...
and started talking to this mouse of a girl: nerdy looking
thing... i said to her something along the lines:
she has your complexion...
olive skinned... Turkish... she could pull off Pakistani
or a higher caste of the Raj...
Spanish? eh... i like AQUAMARINE...
each time i asked her for directions she guided me:
what would you like?
come to think of it: if all she gets are transvestite perverts
that want to wear **** lingerie...
i must have been her first genuine customer in
a long while...
i just stopped caring...
               while we were trying to figure out the measurements
she sent me: 36B... i looked at 36B...
you know: i think she's exaggerating...
she's much smaller...
the 36 might be right but the B?
i was abstracting her breast in my hand...
no... not a B...
obviously still talking to the girl helping me out...
******? she showed me a pair: again i abstracted
me slapping that fine piece of ***... yeah...
seems about right... tights' suspender belt:
oh: very much necessary... colour tights? WHITE...
with that complexion black would ruin it:

which is why i never understood why Muslim
women never rebelled against Muslim men...
why... a black niqab? why a black niqab / hijab...
and why something so horrid as polyester and the likes?
why not white: and linen? breathable material?
**** it: wear your "pride of a religion that
was started with the birth of Isaac by Abraham's
concubine... running up and down two mountain
ranges"... or how the story goes...

once upon a time Islam was the envy of the world...
Averroes (ibn Rushd) & Avicenna (ibn Sina):
i actually own a copy of the latter's Book of Wisdom...
in it there's this pseudo sudoku schematic... fun read:
but i mean: Islam used to be the envy of the world:
now? with the decadent Saudis it's a ******* cesspit
of degenerate thinking: or rather: not thinking...
it's a bit like the story of Poland:
Poland never had a truly competent steward...
caretaker... not really: well: if you invent a *******
monarchial system based on: electoral monarchy:
sure, the noblemen elect the new king:
but! but... the king is a foreigner and not someone
of your own flesh and blood...
just like Big Brother Swede attacked Little Brother
Swede in the acts of the Deluge:
mix into the cocktail the Turks...
spice it up a little with some Russian paranoia
and then top it off with a cherry akin to
the Cossack rebellion: what nation will survive
a four-fold threat?!
mind you: the Hebrews might have played a sly
hand in undermining the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth:

yes yes, i know... on the Western World is allowed
to have a history: us Eastern paupers are without
any historical motive, or, ancestry...
but Western historiology is a husk of its former self...
self-deceptive: it has been allowed to pass into
the hands of people who know very little but
say: a bit too much...
in the department of historiology who else to read
up on if not Heidegger: the man was obsessed by it:
because historiology is not journalism...
journalism is a bad joke with poetry being
the worst joke: given the span of time...

tongue in cheek...

but not today! what the hell! i wish i could be a philosopher
through and through... but sometimes the most idiotic
"thing" catches up to you...
today.. seriously?!
i do know that having unprotected *** with
a *******... actually: ******* into her has consequences...
but... i don't remember anyone scratching my
phallus...
SUCCUBUS... i swear to god...
someone is ****** jealous that i bought this
******* lingerie... toned downed pink...
now i'll go to the brothel and try to explain to her:
yeah...

what? my cat done it? i know that i drink
the worth's of 3 men's capacity...
but that's why i write: so i don't black-out
and don't forget anything... which is why i drink
and write to begin with: i need to write something
truthful... i'm done with stupid lies
and inhibitions: the ugliest truths: come, to, the, fore!

like the last girl: because she was a girl back then:
she's still the same rich brat, girl she was back then...
the last time i bought **** lingerie for a girl:
she was, absolutely: un-fuckable...
body-wise? fine fine... but face? ****** dreads...
three piercings in her lips: all crusty and... ugh!
i'm lucky with this one, tonight...
i'm shaking with thrill, with delight...
i'm hot in the cold i'm feeling:
pseudo-Parkinson's disco dancing while i type...
ooh! yeah... now i'm feeling it...

never once used a dating app: i figured:
there must be a clarifying barrier between men
and women... a transactional barrier:
but hell... if the western world has such high standards
to eat an oyster or some: ****...
good luck...

i'm borrowing a concept from the Orientals:
well... "borrowing":
if it's not going to be the brothel then it's a quasi-
ラブホテル (rabu hoteru)...
it's ******* ridiculous:
you are only expected to get "laid" if you
have the sort of social standing as an old man...
no! no!
me, get a mortgage first? get a car?
what the hell happened to the pre-baby-boomer
fun-**** party?!
i'm going to have one myself, **** the older generation:
if they could desecrate their heritage:
they: clearly didn't give me much to work with!
Ginsberg drug induced poetic *******!
Ginsberg is no ******* Aldous Huxley!
me? i'm just going to brush this little bit of "interest"
then shower and then pamper myself
and then walk into the night like either
shadow or ghost and lay the lingerie on the altar
of her naked prettiness...
why? because: i can....
   and i will feel richer than any man who has to
swing round getting a piece of ***
for being short via the acquisition of a house on
a mortgage: why? BECAUSE, I CAN!
i am freed from the bondages of societal
unrealistic expectations! i just don't give a ****... i just ****...

it would be ridiculous otherwise:
just to get "laid"... i would have to, do what?
what's expected of me?! what's expected of me?
father ******* children or leftover children?
like ****... i'd have to own a car?!
in London? pointless: i have two bicycles...
put up with a mortgage?!
rent with a bunch of losers who would complain
should i bring a fancy one-night-err?
sure... i'm a "loser" still living with his parents:
but i'm the steward of the house:
i cook i clean... i pay for food and chemistry (shampoo)
but at least i'm not renting:
do you think my parents will be entrusted
to a care home of abuse?!
but i still need to ****! like i need to breathe and eat
and: finally! ****! stop it!
i shat further than i can see with all the juxtaposing
nerves at the prospect of seeing a woman
i love ******* in **** lingerie...

i'll just text her and tell her i'm coming with
her 17th birthday present...
she's no 17 year old: i think something clinical must
have happened to her at 17 when she discovered
she enjoyed ******* so much:
like i enjoy ******* so much...
i know why i enjoy ******* this much...

two pivotal events... well... three...
i'm a first generation immigrant to these shores:
hence, i still retain my mother tongue...
unlike those 2nd generation "desperados" with their
supposed "heritage": England failed them...
i can see it plain as day bound to the shadow
blinding the depths of night...

1. i started ******* early, of my own accord...
8... those stories of geniuses composing
symphonies so early: me? i was jerking off
too early... prematurely: long before i had the capacity
to ******* any *****...
so? well... the living arrangements where less than ideal...
mother, father, me... in one room for about 2 years...
a house filled with migrant men working
for their families back home: i was already familiar with
*******...
i was having a bath with a boy of the owner
of the house: a Jew and a ****** woman...
mother was ironing some shirts in the background...
an uncircumcised **** teaching a circumcised ****
the pleasures of *******...
i told him: you stroke it long enough:
you'll get this "funny feeling"...

2. playing Sonic the Hedgehog 2... on my SEGA...
looking back... seeing my father perform oral
*** on my mother: through her *******...

3. this one is a bit "traumatic"... we were on holiday
in Bourthmouth...
i remember him buying her a pink dress so she might
look like an English lady...
taking a photograph with the Red Arrows outside
of a jeweller's shop: showcasing wrist-watches...
i was wearing a green and yellow NIKE tracksuit...
we were sharing a single hotel room...
i went to sleep eating M & M's...
fell asleep, they went out...
i woke up in the middle of the night to the sound
of *******...
i was lying in the same bed as my father was *******
my mother...
after they finished i pretended to just wake up...
i called out to "mother dear"...
she turned around already hot from the sweat
of ******* and "cuddled" me back to sleep...

ergo?
why do i visit prostitutes?! well... d'uh!
i'm a ****-wit! i'm mash potatoes!
no wonder! my mother saw the potential in me
when she saw me teach another boy
oh so innocently how to *******: she decided:
better elevate this ****** up!
that's the whole point of my drinking and my writing!
i need to show man the ugliest of truths:
so there won't be any
"faking it": nothing human is alien unto man...
this should be the first lesson...
better this: this shamelessness than some cowering
inhibition spilling into a profound violence
(against the opposite ***)...
no no: THIS... first!
this nakedness, first!

you die by a quest of: curiosity?!
just asking: perhaps... you should have.

those Elm Park girls are crazy... i never really cycled through Elm Park before, only past it on my way to Rainham and the marshes by the river Thames... Coldharbour used to be one of my favorite destinations... riding this beast of a Trek bicycle... compared to my Viking this is a beast... my Rolls Royce... i mean... the tyres alone slow me down... they're a bit like me comparing my hands to the hands of a woman... i love watching my hands and then watching the hands of a woman... i focus on the thumb... i'm about 1.5x her size... if not 2x larger than her... yeah... i looking at my hands now... i could chop off my pinky finger and the knuckle too and i'd be about right... but these Elm Park girls are crazy... you get to the roundabout... three of them see you coming... teenagers... obviously... and you make eye-contact for... whatever the reason was... the loudest of the three, the most plump looks into your eyes, mind you... the rest do too... and shouts out... OI! OI OI! she approves... no no, it wasn't a mean OI... it was a sort of call girls do akin to what women used to do to women they found appealing when they were amongst other men... whistled or hollered... how this is seen as ****** harassment these days, i will never know... i was just waiting for a follow-up to the OI OI! with a: juicy ****... Elm Park girls are crazy...

Bukowski was such a musical snob,
he also preferred classical music,
         he also only turned on the radio instead
of collecting records...
i abhor the idea of a d.j. - i don't like someone
choosing for me what music i ought to listen to...
sure... i like classical music: i was raised on it...
but even i can say: classical music is not eternal...
its association with names of people who
conjured up the notes is not the same as...
for example: Frank Zappa was into Bulgarian folk...
me? i'm into everything Medieval...
i think that Medieval music is joyous...
it's less rigorous than classical music...
    give me anything from the Germans singing
come the 13th century:
ai vis lo lop...
         or... ich was ein chint so wolgetan...
   i'm all ears... and no one can name the man who sang
those songs first...
like no one knows who discovered beer...
i'm pretty sure the first beer was an ale...
since it couldn't have been carbonated...
how much tastier a carbonated beverage tastes
after you quickly take your glug glugs...
you end up drinking so fast once enough chores
have been done that you burp first... then **** second...
ungarischer tantz...
      orbis factor: strange how modern man looks
toward his predecessors as these savage: idiotic brutes...
concerning modern singing "eloquences"...
and those of the past? the purest noble hearts
even among the most unworthy of heart...
this expansion of the mind has left us...

                  but unlike music... one can easily return
to the style of Ovid... poetry with conversational
overtones... not claustrophobic poetry of rhyme...
of rhyme and lyricism...
yesterday i carved out an epic worth over 5 thousand
words... today i feel like relaxing while:
nonetheless typing...

an article came to mind... oddly enough i still do buy
a newspaper once in a while...
the only newspapers worth reading arrive on
either Saturday or a Sunday...
i once implored for a journalistic Sabbath...
to be honest? you could care less for a Monday
to Friday strip-search of history by journalism...
there are only two days worth reading a newspaper
on... a Saturday and a Sunday...

a Dr. Greg Matos wrote in Psychology today
about the rise of lonely men...
the reply? one from a 67 year old: serial dater...
one from a 28 year old...
i was... hoping for a more stark comparison...
house? will have it... when my parents die...
it'll have to wait...
cook? yes... clean? yes...
     car? no car... i'm "worried about my carbon
footprint" (ha ha.... i thought saving the planet
was a "thing"?), cars are not practical in London...
unless: you're moving something from A to B rather than
merely travelling from A to B...
cooks... cleans... good with children?
i like children...
wait wait... who the who said that cats are
animals best petted by women and that dogs
are a man's animal?
why do people think that cats effeminate men?
you'd kidding me, right?
so you never had the glorious opportunity of...
second time... on the second time...
the first time these two cats... i walked into my bedroom
and found a **** in my bed...
oh you mother... *******... i smacked both of them...
both the male and female...
because i didn't know which one was *******
enough to not do a **** into the litter-box...
i waited... second time: gotcha! you little **** for brains!
it was the male... the larger one...
a tornado embodied me... i stripped off the sheets...
prior to collect the ****...
catching a cat in the act of ******* where he's
not supposed to be ******* is great...
after i put on the washing i returned to him...
oh... now i'm going to wash you... after i smack you again...
you don't **** where you sleep!
he's sleeping where he took a **** right now...
under the shadow... wriggling *******...
washed him and his ***...
then... mummified him in a towel... wrapped it so tight
that only his head was poking out...
by the time the washing was done
i had enough washing-line clips on his freshly washed
body... sitting on a table in the garden
while i hang-up the washing...
then... oh... by then i thought anything would
be a good idea... i took him to the bathroom
and perched him on the windowsill...
plugged in a hair-dryer... started to dry him...
yeah... oh yeah... sure sure... dogs are lovely creatures...
men are emasculated by owning dogs...
but when it comes to cats they are somehow effeminate...
only cat ladies... no devils in the mix
with the likes of Behemoth in Russian literature...
chess playing drunk....
like William Burroughs pointed out...
you ever heard of a cat **** a child?
i've heard countless stories of dogs killing children...
i myself almost lost an eye when my Dobberman
attempted to bite me in the eye...
after i smacked him for biting my Alsatian *****...
mind you... he gave a friend of mine
a nose-bleed for no reason when he bit his nose...
point being... cat's are great... Quarus is my best friend
right now... he talks very little...
i like friends that talk very little...
i don't even talk to him: i meow to him...
saves me the pointlessness some people grieve me with:
i get so annoyed when i need to repeat myself...
third time i'm asked to repeat myself:
you're mumbling... you're speaking too fast...
i raise my voice and people think i'm angry...
i'm just frustrated that i need to say the same thing:
for the third *******, time!
with him? onomatopoeias... which is grand for me...
but this first time i tried to use a hair-dryer on
this ****-lord's ***... i will never forget it...
a 9kg animal... he jumped onto my hand
and gripped it with such ferocity... both the front
paws and their nails and the rear paws digging
into my hand... and the teeth biting into... hmm!
he went straight for the adductor pollicis'...
for my capacity to pinch...
now that i fold my hand i am assured that the grip...
is born without a relationship between
the index and thumb finger... but if i lost my index
finger... i wouldn't lose my grip...
i would lose my grip if i lost my pinky finger...
since grip is allocated to the relationship between
the thumb and the pinky finger...
he was aiming at my pinching capability...
well... he did take a **** in my bed...
and i did wash him in the shower and i did try
to dry him off using a hair-dryer... hair enough...
hmm... i used to clash teeth with Bella my Alsatian...
i don't think it was a dream... i actually think
we clashed teeth once...
dogs are great if you're a child...
but once you get older?
**** me... take them for walks? a cat takes itself
for a walk... they come when they're desperate for
attention... and leave when they're not...
and if they're in your company they're so considerate
as to sleep throughout your shared space...
a cat that's awake is a cat unto itself...
a sleeping cat is a cat unto you:
i imagine they sleep so much because they are
the quintessential architects of dreams...
you project onto them a world that's akin to what
men of old stipulated: a heaven and a hell...
no other animal sleeps so much... well no domesticated
animal sleeps so much...
there must be something in this riddle...
why do they sleep so much:
they sleep for all of us... these Bonsai tigers...
also... why is the lion considered the king of the animal
kingdom? terrible idea...
put a lion next to a bear...
                     the bear is the king of the animal kingdom...

- i find it absolutely terrifying that cats don't
think their lives a waste by sleeping so much...
for a person that usually dreams only sounds
or letters... on the odd occasion will: conjure up a form
of sort... it probably stems from my earliest memory...
of my maternal grandfather... sitting me before a plaything
piano while he sat before an actual piano...
and we played together... i have more access
to memory than to dreams: he was a shadow-form...
a great grey-engulfment...
      but it's absolutely terrifying to see these creatures
(i.e. cats) sleep so much...
it concerns me because then i start thinking
comforting thoughts about death...
i start thinking of death like cats demand
of the deity of sleep more access to sleep more...
being alive is almost being more dead than alive...
cats become alive when they sleep...
double on that statement: as William Burroughs
mentioned: there's never a wasted moment
in the company of cats...
sure... he succumbed to Scientology...
does it matter? i have no ad hominem approach
to this particular writer...

unlike with music... you can easily go back
to the writing style of an Ovid...
i'd like to break away from any sort of erotica for at
least one night...
a night such as this when you can pleasure yourself:
because you have the ******* to do so...
it would be pointless to pleasure myself should
i be circumcised... that's what the ******* is for...
my ******* = no need for a woman's compensation
with a the torturous NIQAB... or anything
the orthodox Jewish girls throw at you...

but a lion is not the king of the animal kingdom!
the bear is...
bears are omnivores... bears hibernate...
bears are far more superior creatures to man...
bears are not governed / manipulated by ideas...
faiths... obligations... a lion will require a role
of protector of a mass of land for his harem
of lionesses to hunt and provide for their litter...
bears? loners... they like their own company...
just like a crown, the emblem...
enjoys a head not attached to neck
or a neck attached to a torso...
a bear standing on its hind legs is less intimidating
than a lion growling? a bear: standing on its hind
legs and bellowing out less a growl but
the unleashed summons of pre-history?
    
             i don't think a lion is the king of the animal
kingdom... if he were... then his cousin tiger would
not sneak in his bonsai cousins into our homes...
we'd have little bears running around...
as pets...

gratifying little taste of a day that leaves my
breath stinking of whiskey
while being cooled come this hour
by the wind... with such an expanse of time
before me yawning at my efforts to justify
my existence...
perhaps a life not living... but i'd live it one more
time and tell myself the second time:
to not be so invigorated by a happy:
infuriating anger...
then again: i wouldn't change a thing...
not my stupidity in youth...
not my wizened self coming to my zenith
of mortality... i wouldn't choose to become
a gladiator of the modern sense
by kicking a football between 22 ballerinas
into order to break off to become a philanthropist:
or for that matter: FLAUNT my money...
in order to gain some incremental
gain in status...
i can't be post-modernist when it comes
to the individual: but in how society is organised:
what is societally expected?
i can be very much post-modernist...

for example? i am yet to meet my intellectual match
of the opposite ***...
i haven't... i can't bemoan the fact that
i haven't... the sun rises... the sun sets...
it's as simple as this...
no number of scientific facts will tell me
that gravity is not at work whether
a body falls from a height or whether a body
is standing still...
there's the microcosm of gravity
and a macrocosm of gravity...
the earth moves around the sun rather than
the sun rising with the sunrise and spreads
its glorious ****** and legs across the sky:
life's all the much: pretty much the same...
whatever Copernicus achieved... well...
that wasn't a "faux pas": a trend a... fashion...
Darwinism feels more like a fashion trend
very much coupled with Freudian thinking than
anything... given? men are outside of the natural
order of things... the strong? no... they do not reproduce...
they smart? they don't reproduce...
among men who reproduces?
whoever is most desperate...
and who creates these desperations?
desperate men... today i cycled past a couple...
mein gott! you really have to be thirsty to couple
with with such a beached whale of a woman...
i take care of myself:
i don't take care of myself:
but even i know that there are limits...
concerning the ergonomics of: in transit...

are we? moving, *******, cattle?! cattle seem more lean!
a little taste of starving would do a lot
of good for some of these people...
i don't wish to demean them...
but sometimes demeaning someone comes
naturally... unconsciously...
i think think that's synonymous:
to judge someone "unconsciously" by way
of natural selection...
man was never going to overpower clarifying
nature with, "some": argument that might make sense...
not among solipsism, narcissism, fate, chance...

then again Bukowski was a gambling man...
i don't gamble... maybe that's why i collected records...
moved into dealing with vinyls...
only today saw the Royal Mail advert for
Transformer stamps...
just in order to keep the legacy of my grandfather
alive... i think... i'll buy them...
i liked the original Transformers as a kid...
i don't really like stamps... but he was a stamp
collector...

i'm thinking: brothels...
  or like in Japan the ラブ ホテル
             (rabu hoteru)
                            what's the ****** difference?
i'm thinking: syllables... rather than atomised
lettering... there's so much of my thinking that
is incompatible with a woman...
even at work... i can talk, with women...
but i have yet to talk about something
that truly interests me...
i just... fake it... if women fake ******* during
***... i fake interest during conversation...
obviously i've seen and heard the "hot shivers"...
outside of work women are just passerby daydreams...
i'm not lonely: i sometimes get an auditory hallucination
from time to time...
a hallucination that... upon changing the tongue
of my thinking: addresses me with my name...
lonely?! i'm... not... alone!

but i am yet to have a conversation with a woman
i'd find suiting my interests...
it's usually talking about cartoons... the past...
and their problems... it's always talking about their problems...
rubber ear says: in one out the other...
my patience is stretched...
in that hierarchy of:
people who talk about other people...
people who talk about themselves...
thirdly? people who talk about ideas...

i'm so unlucky to be wanting of someone of the third
category...
not yet... and probably never...
Medieval melancholic songs sooth me...
at least i'm not one of those modern men
so quickly jumping on the route of despising women
akin to Jack the Ripper style ******, pillage...
i love women too much...
the women willing to be loved as best they can:
if by sensuality alone and no lazy Sunday afternoons...
i'll take that... if that's what the fates decided...
i can enjoy music and literature and artwork alone...
happily...

i was a romantic once... mein gott: i was just a naive
romantic... what was it that robbed me of my romanticism?
mystical Islam? Gnosticism?
Kant? the existentialists?! Walter Sickert?!
probably none of the above...
only today i couldn't stop laughing... a ******* cat for company...
well... if you really want to perform well during
*******... and the *******
of you arching over a woman doesn't tire you
but rather invigorates you... you need to do?
press-up! no... **** going to the gym...
what i learned from rock climbing...
what i learned from cycling and what i learned
from swimming...
never trust a man with biceps... hands... thicker than
his legs to be of a natural disposition...
he's juicing himself up...
i should know: i used to walk marathons
and cycle twice that length...
your legs are naturally thicker than your arms...
unless you're a gymnast...
but a gymnast is not... is not... someone who simply
goes to the gym for aesthetic reasons for ****** appeal...
most of these guys look the part...
but pit them against a profession like roofing
and... all that "supposed", ahem, "muscle":
if ******* cotton-candy!

   operatic(s) of optometry! the deceptive: it looks like...
but? actually?! it... really isn't...
you couldn't ascribe an aesthetic that's pleasing
for a man, more of a joke...
should a man's hands be much larger than his
legs in girth... impossible!
it's unnatural: perhaps pleasing to a woman...
but between men... it's no testimony for him
to be able to fulfill any serious manual labour:
rigour... it's a doped up aesthetic...
it's hardly practical... lifting weights in the gym
is not maneuvering weights around a construction
site... i ought to know...
i did my joyous worth of it...
it was! joyous!

i was allowed to abandon my mmd and justify
the existence of my body as detached from ever having
a mind...
by tonight i'm being soothed
by... Kyrie: Orbis Factor...
a time of: when men were men and women
were women...
even now i tense the muscle in my legs...
and think: i could walk 30 miles in one day...
rather than do 300 press-ups before i'd turn around
and **** about 300 ******...
for 30 minutes at a stretch, of each!

but that's tonight... tomorrow: there might be
some other me of me that i'll have
to bring a challenge to!

cultural darwinism:

too much time spent
looking through
the ****
of a chimpanzee
expecting to roar
like a lion...
and now enough time
spent looking
through the ****
of a homosexual
looking for
a higher mind
  of heterosexual
male's
worth of an imploded
fwench kissing
marathon
of...
   what didn't satiate
the body,
sure as hell made
up for in a thai
circus of convo.

i: unit of one...
am but the wishful
attention span
of: the crux of algebra:
verbiose,
  and... more verbiose...

cabbage +2 + 2 'n' 1 kids...
mother
             sgt. pepper's
and...
that collage...
like a bearded man
doing an American Pie
Ostreicher...

me? my fetish with
the...
polish-lithuanian
charge of the winged
hussars...
against the Cossack
rebellion...

hardly a lawd tennyson...
but a great
sienkiewicz novel
to: mind you what
and what not...

the middle-Asian
fetish for cabbage...
like mine:
the *******'re going
to do with all that turmeric
and chilli, and ginger,
garlic... and?
stink with a stink's waaa'th
w'ah?

the pride the boot
and then...
expecting some
côte d'ivoire
brute...

           and i'm to be:
the napkins provider...
i, the:
       curtain fling -
à la flop...
      
  ***. fetish for western
cuck...

             like ski jumping...
noriaki kasai...
and...
what happens in
sapporo:
stays in sapporo:

while in ****-yo:

          rabu hoteru:
  súkī súkī: thai goose:
guess lucky lucky...

suave... baige 'n' all...

indentations: loci: print...

that movie!
no!
not ninja scroll!
not tenchu
or ten-times-achoo!

  funny... not howl's
moving / floating /
whatever the castle did...

or spirited away...
that... manga *****...

shingles for a schmile...
like: teeth...
but less ordered in:
the arithmetic of...
buck-tooth
kicked out...

   that ******* manga
***** though!

         what was it?!

(20 minute interlude):

ah!

               urotsukidoji!
shin-towing
a pajama in bamboo
strict-tease...
via: dojo-open:
**** flower
    alias kimono...

sigh / aye / sigh / aye /
soogh-too'ji!
Shanghai express...

but i whittle
Pole'lock's breath
of the anglican
might but might not add:

         pale Franckian
'aving imported
the: what the Moroccan
sheikh didn't
deem "necessary"
to export...

           but i'm on
the receiving end:
tell ******* coco
what the copper turban
said...
try that...
ain't no *******
cul de sac sushi
palace wish where
whatever comes
after, come prior to:
"a" from...

world salad from now
on...
    it needs to be
IKEA literal...
no nuance...
   no... just literal:
give me the verbs
and...
  and no 'uance
considering 'ouns...

me?
   i like the idea of
the English language
having the capacity to
entertain more requisites
of letters 'come surds...
  
      cockney playing
conckers...
    C C, K K...
            either cold or:
kindled spirit:
yo ** ** and
a fidgeting compass
originating in Sigh-bear-ah...

cold Solomon:
a cod's whallop...

in summary:
i'd still prefer the tongue
of a gay
to a body of a woman
should it be suggested
i pass the hour in:
"prevailing"
to consecrate myself
upon the altar of
a continuum;

but hey...
that's life...

     her life...
i no chimpanzee shrunk
worth a fight
into her dynamo
of the Mars: ahoy!
if she...
       toying mantis...
           mother... tarantula.

- Harlow -
      a morning spent
      drinking jack
  and eating a lilac coloured
mushroom
     in the forest...
         poisoned? maybe...
i never thought about
eating something lilac...
                          esp. a fungus.
                                                        
­                        yet another 502 bad gateway bypass.

truly mythical properties... it's not the first time it has
happened...
   Khedra... is it just me... maybe i'm hallucinating
this scent... even if i am... it's pretty potent...
a bit like seeing **** when you close your eyes
after being awake for 36h+ straight...
                         auditory hallucinations?
                                       sometimes i hear my name
as if from afar... i remember it happened at Wembley
before a shift... i might have only had 2 hours sleep
prior... didn't eat much... a combination of factors...
a gust of wind and then... my name...
   i sort of froze and looked around...
                      but this is different...
                                  whatever people might think
about jerking off: sure... men get the stigma while
women become cam-girls and get off for money...
the ****** liberation bites back...
because for most guys it's a return to that
critique by richard von krafft-ebing in his
psychopathia sexualis... mind you...
   we're talking the 19th century...
                   shaming men... fair enough... while celebrating
the use of cucumbers and other such toys...
i have to thank Khedra for sending me those selfies...
i've stopped watching *******... pure and simple...
and no... she isn't even sending me nudes...
just close-ups... some collar-bone and neck...
one... she's wearing glasses and she made a close-up
of her lips...
                  not duck-lips... injected with too much
silicone... just naturally full lips...
                    come to think of it...
                                        i've only had "unprotected" ***
with two women in my life...
  ****... it's been too long since the first one...
so she sends me this selfie with another woman with her:
a much bigger pair of *******, blonde...
and this is what happens when you give a signed
copy of your poetry book to a woman...
what's today's date? ah... the 22nd... i'll get paid come
early April... guess where that money is going?
but when i was about to ******* one time i sort of stopped
and... can i? yeah... are you sure?
                yeah... i can't get pregnant...
                        and off went a squadron of white paratroopers...
into the golden gates of V....
but today... looking at the selfies she sent me...
now? all i have to do is look at her face and
remember having ******, ****** her real good...
hell... now my memory bank has increased exponentially...
i can just switch a cinema on where i'm the protagonist
in a shady *** scene with mirrors...
     funny... no ****** too...
well... except for the sordid antics in my head...
           but today... upon *******...
                                i could smell her...
                                       is that what happens when your
body bonds with another body at the zenith
of mutual ******? a piece of them: the scent is somehow
intact with you?!
    well... i don't know... you're sharing
various liquids between each other...
   her V juices... her sweat, her saliva...
           your juice, your sweat your saliva...
                      and my... it's so good to be appreciated
for being a clean: ultra-clinical ultra-pedantic cleanliness
freak... let's face it... if a ******* doesn't mind
having unprotected *** with you...
   and she doesn't mind you ******* into her...
you must be doing something right...
but i swear i have her scent in me, on me...
however it works... i even tell her every time i leave:
i'll have a wash prior... but never after...
no... i want to keep you on me for a while... longer...
other times when ******* is useful...
when you're about to perform...
   starts a day prior... ******* 3x without *******...
on the day of the performance...
some more jerking off without *******...
white wine is an aphrodisiac for me... as is exercise...
2x sessions of immense physical scrutiny...
30min each... the bottle of wine in between...
             ****... that litre of Jack is still on offer at Tesco...
better stash up on it... take it with me...
just chill... pour myself a drink when i'm with her...
she'll probably want to do some *******...
me? i'm too old for that ****...
                     trying it for the first time aged 35...
and the fact that it didn't do anything for me...
                               sure... she can do whatever she wants...
but it's more practical like this...
it's not like i'm alone in my predicament...
sure... if i were a single mum i could easily apply
for a council flat...
getting a mortgage? poetry pays ****...
                   if anything...
                          rent? what... cough up money to some
stranger's pockets?! just to what? live alone?
alone in order to play the dating game and hope:
"hope" of bringing someone back to my place?
obviously when you go out the girl would never ask
her round hers... but to go round yours...
plus... my personal library is too big to simply:
shift it... as is my music collection...
                           and... living with your parents isn't
that bad if you don't mind them and still somehow
managed to like you... being the custodian...
cooking food... d.i.y. - cleaning... well... if the old woman
has problem with arthritis... might as well...
but i'm not alone in this... after all...
in Japan they have this "thing" that's called
the ラブ ホテル (rabu hoteru) - love hotels...
    since... living arrangements are pretty much the same
there... but in the west... it's such a shame...
while Asian families in England... three ******* generations
under the same roof...
     is it some in-bred qualm or something?
sure... in capitalism everyone's going to be a winner...
what would be the alternative? go out at night...
pick a girl up... then... book a hotel room...
at least i get that ******* out of the way...
   i'm still going to follow her up on the suggestion...
but... at the same time... i don't think she'll follow up
on it...
            well... if this is the price for carnal love
   (ニクヨク 愛) - nikuyoku ai (アイ) -
              you just have to figure out a way to adapt...
isn't that what Darwinism teaches?
             you learn to adapt... this works for me...
hell... like that old saying goes... if something isn't broke:
don't fix it... took me a while... how long will this last?
well... if she's going to be sending me more of those
selfies where she's teasing her tongue at me...
                  i've already given up ******* for good...
for that: i'll be eternally grateful...
better let off steam from time to time
borrowing from memory: looking at her face...
being the protagonist than that ugly sensation of being
a ******...
   plus... how long would it take for a casual hook-up
girl to say the words: you're a beautiful man?
if at all! she might think it: but won't say it...
and... *** for free? for free implies she can somehow
get this high from an emotional attachment...
sure... get attached... but there are barriers...
and again: nothing is for free...
              you're going to be paying for something in
the end... dinner dates... gifts...
   i'm only here for the corporeal and carnal...
           but i would seriously *****-slap all those guys
that send money to cam-girls... or whatever you want
to call them: the ones that monetised selling bathwater...
that's an easy way out for the girl...
  what do you mean... no touchy-feely?
                       and behind a computer screen?!
i'd sooner be found giving spare change to a *****
than... whatever the hell the current culture dictates...
i'd say: return to the old school way of doing things...
but then again: that's just me;
   clearly i'm no pornographer...
                          a wholesome session of ***...
even if its once a month... i'll settle for that...
clearly i don't need any more... and if it was on a regular
basis... if i had to sleep in the same bed
as the woman... first i wouldn't get a good night's sleep
and secondly: i'd probably get bored of the ***...
i'd have to explore **** / latex kinks...
and... i don't want to do that.