we used to leave the extra Statistic lesson after 3.30pm, used to jump across the wall over the playground, catch the train home... we used to break fast with dates when Ramadan came along... then the hens came along... that sort of brotherly ******* doesn't really concern me these days... i'd gladly **** your mother these days... like you ***** my mother telling me whatever that ***** said you ought to believe... do i believe in God? do i have to? do i have to believe you said those words rather than a maggot? personally i think a maggot said them... on an existential inspection, you're just someone that goes into a charity shop and buys everything for under a quid - you're just a ******* gypsy to me; but believe me, i really want to be a gypsy, mortgage free, living like river-rat... i'm comparing your intelligence to a donkey when is shouldn't be insulting a donkey... i'd love the circus, the gypsy uncertainty... i can't believe your mother actually liked me... and that you have to lie about me as "non-engaging" schizoid... when i meet your mother in heaven i'll not fail to mention that detail.

it's a funny tale,
how they cite the words          the 21st century
and subsequently ditto them    "     "           "      ,
ever the airs, every the formality,
ever the should have been,
contrasting the ever would haves...
it's hardly a reason to be comparative
with the 17th century,
the 21st century isn't that much
of a surprise... it's not a surprise at all...
it's actually quiet mundane,
the quiet everyday... as said:
via articles definite, and via the charcoal churning:
iron maiden's *strange world
versus duran duran's ordinary world,
as i said: subhuman, cancerous laughs
and still the belittling you:
it was all a worthwhile care for calcium salts,
petroleum jelly and aliphatic acids - some said
sodium acids too...
some mentioned chemists as it was
an aquarium for choir encores to a deafening,
but it wasn't - i too would have learned
the plumber's jacking-off without
groupies... had you minded my intent
to leverage the safety as worth nothing
anything but the Selfie and the jelly-baby sucrose
glue.
i'd like to go back to the 17th century with
the musketeers... i'd be fed less jealous comparisons
with the reigning Louis XIV...
i'd be diverted by an adventure, laying siege to
Lyon, which would mean much more to me
than paying the taxes as a medical doctor....
i'd be agile on the musket, a musketeer,
shooting heads to later write a Don Quixote for
a ballet... but as 21st century's writing proves:
i only wrote because my life was truly banal...
i would't have written otherwise...
had my life the attributes of a Don Juan...
you think i'd have written anything?
only banality prompts you to write...
if you decide to write, and keep banality
as a saintly ordinance best kept unscathed,
well... then you better salt your eyes for an improvement
of the bitterness of shed tears awaiting the
once anthem-blessed glorification a nation likened to Iran
having a pointless streak of competition
sparked alive with a necessity of breathing being excused
so that the competitive acquirement is stocked
and compiled to an encyclopaedic assurance,
preference: A prior to Z.