i guess in england i am marx... i spotted one victorian asset that leaves me gobsmacked... so if pedophiles are the lowest of the low in the crime pyramidal scheme... i can almost see it as those with melancholia and schizophrenia being like pedophiles... instead of proper treatment these people get the syringe filled with ridicule... the lowest of the low in the crime theatre are pedophiles while in medicine they’re the mentally ill. do you know how many marriages i’ve seen fail because of overcooked pasta?!*

it’s odd, the moment you realise the hebrew femininity
in stefan zweig’s biography of hölderlin,
it appears when scardanelli (pseudonym)
makes his gesture at the passing of napoleon,
schiller, beethoven, novalis, schubert and waiblinger...
its picturesque depiction of the ivory tower,
the piano the solace of solitude that eclipses
the solstice of congregational sanity so so animalistic
in the morse code platonism of s.o.s.
(what form is it? usually a sinking ship):
frequent flier requires company!
retired divorcee requires ping-pong partner!
oh the horror of such scenarios... never content
with one’s own company, are we?
too bad... i was about to write some satire...
i guess sarcasm will do...
zen buddhism is a perfect antidote for this:
stefan zweig laments the “loneliness” of the poet,
zen buddhism says: **** the world, let the lack of the world
fulfil you... isolationism tactic, purely pronoun related...
no dates to remember, no third party antics... no politics...
the voluntary beggar had more brains than the voluntary sacrifice,
it’s like: i can always go back to my honey abode
with the lineage of princes... or i can try and avoid crucifixion...
hmm... unbaked dough... what a lost will for choice!
no you see... zen buddhism makes this whole shunning the world
and interaction in it a positive...
on the no. 86 bus going to school i learned my first lesson
in non-constipated writing with a relative the sole eyes
of wounded pride avoided...
forget the world and let the world forget you.
works miracles... i live in a jamaican shanty town
and the whole ghetto is filled with me...
it’s the only world i desired and it desires me...
it’s not exactly tübingen...
the chance of an essex lad entering university
is quickly sentenced with the birmingham folk
at u.c.l. stating: we’ll crucify you for the accent!
the essex lad retorts: 'but that’s 200 miles from derbyshire -
what’s your point?!'
thank god i studied in edinburgh... i can keep an eye
on saxon politics from a stoic scot perspective without betting
on the winning horse...
if i went to london as “originally planned” i’d have dropped out
because the ******* are so pompous they hide their pomp
with protests: oh look... they brought the drums out with them too,
if i was serious about protesting about something i’d
look for knives and hammers... you know... the french reign of terror
democracy... forceful... i think they just read the memo
with a typo: bring ye conniving slogans and your cameras to lineage plot details
for social media outbursts!
you could never have proper statistics with television
programs... no we see them all the time...
the internet folk are really party-party orientated...
i can spot about 9 statisticians in a group of 10:
i.e. there's gucci trendy and there's pixxel trendy...
although in the latter sense you're cognitively naked...
and in the former sense you have to ask
someone for a deciphering specialisation
without flinging out the badge of honour that
reads: AUTHENTIC GUCCI TAILORED IN
SOMALIA BUT DESIGNED IN ITALY.