to the Armenian, a dr Grair Magakian, well, Stalin out of Georgia, ****** out of Austria, a genesis has to have fertile ******* beginnings - try giving a ******* an ****** with her heaving the words: only the second time it's happened to me...a bit clumsy, like god with the revision of earth post-lizard having perfected Mars the first time round; oh hell it was habitable back then, you could even write an obituary, i don't know why we're looking for life on it, it's atmospherically dead, although retaining the sphere... back when life on earth was impossible life flourished on Mars... takes you out of Iowa or Ohio, doesn't it? a boxed below-the-belt (funny how inverted commas disappear when the hyphen is utilised) punch? yes, Vietnam is one of the stars, but drawing with the word champions isn't that bad, the ******* Ajax striker Milik could have two! talk of cross-pollination, german passports here and there, life abroad while Margaret Thatcher shouted boo! and Gierek wrote his autobiography considering the Silesian coal-miners as saints.*

i had an epiphany today, i took to the outer-suburban streets
without headphones, i know, we're gang-***** by
mechanised sounds, aeroplanes, digging, toilet flushing,
refrigerator static, electricity no longer a bolt of Zeus'
power - who's the Prometheus in that story?
horsepower Audi racers, you name it, no wonder the rebellion
with headphones on... i took them off today,
suddenly there was much more scented activity,
i must have passed the comet of Anise at some point,
variations of sweet smells, foxes like brute beggars
shuffling through garbage, opportunists -
the scents of June, ****, **** me, it was gorge-worthy-beau,
so much in the air... but then again having censored my
ears with songs i came across the crass mankind...
a woman was drumming a door to non-existence
while her daughter locked her outside the house,
complaints versed with words 'it's my house too!
it's my house too! you little ****, open the ******* door!'
at a petrol station a whitey all cool with a blonde *****
gunning down the station attendant with the words:
'look at your face... look at it... you look like a *******...
yep, you look like a ******* mate, look at you,
an elephant's **** just ****** your face in
and you came out with a ***** protruding from your
forehead!'
ain't it lovely, there's me having a ******* epiphany about
life in general, sniffing out June's nocturnal flowers
opening up like a wet **** Venus, talking about:
mm, life... no meaning, too many words involved...
but try to capture the vagueness of it all, well, starry starry night...
don mclean's tribute to van gogh - without the h
von Gag - half german half pervert Cockney -
oh yeah, and to boot, on hedgehog watch, the population
in decline, spotted one today on Beauly Way
(just off Eastern Avenue)... before
the entrance to Rise Park... hey, there's a David Attenborough
in me after all.