oh, but of course,       middle class sensibility,
         in this pseudo feminist society
some words are sacred...
        you write the word
**** and immediately the protest
slogan: how dare you!
   somehow over the past ten years
censorship got out of hand,
but what if i say: i'm healing
when i used to listen to my
great-grandmother talk of war
and frightened, feeding my grandmother
opiates to hush, while her brothers
were slaughtered?
         no on cares to mention my
intentions... because no one cares to think:
oh poo poo the Blitz blah blah blah...
       those people abhorred by my
statements don't have first person accounts
to deal with... so i'm guessing i
have in my hand the sieve... and in my
other hand a whip...
                       i guess i'm really a thistle in
the ***-crack of neo-Nazis...
         or the shy ones, at least...
because i have the first person account
  tattooed into me,
they think i'm an idealistic,
tucked away in an outer-suburban house:
a frustrated white boy,
         ah ****, no colonial past,
frustrated by women's freedoms,
      **** me! this Irish Jack is trying to teach
me a thing or two about women,
in a pub he tells lies about me
she comes up to me and says: i want to help
people...
                 first they imagine heaven,
but then don't know how to interact
with each other in a frame of ten minutes...
i kiss her forehead and the eyelids,
the Irish **** still can't believe it...
                    cos his mamma and papa
divorced while he was saying that family
is valued: tucked away with his video games...
   you tasted you mother's over-cooked
pasta, you little dip-****?
              i have... no wonder your father
preferred take-away.
                        if you can't cook the basics
you can't cook ****... or maybe it was
slugs instead of pasta... i'll never know...
me? i'm the agitator,
             i'm waiting for someone to **** me,
i don't mind...
                          i'll kiss the person
who wants to and say: inherit my nightmare
for just a while...
                                    i don't actually
see how the English matter in the Germanic
world...
                let alone the Norse world...
                      i turned on the t.v. and listened
in on 1950s English...
                          they actually cared about
poetry those days... the Empire was still
there... these days? grime, East London blasphemy
and a: ooh, you better behave
                    teacher! leave our kids alone!
         sure, i'm a delayed journalist,
i have **** of people they didn't even think i had:
tough luck playing the idiot,
           but you get to see people in their
full bollocking's worth of attire...
          play the saintly part for just long
enough and people come out like
   those village homosexuals...
                   well, given the science,
and social norms, no wonder the heterosexual
is a thing of the past,
     give the perverts enough freedoms and justice
and the original model is an ancient relic...
         but that's just me...
i didn't force you to read this...
            i just find it odd that, somehow,
****** wasn't a saving grace for Zionism,
        imagine Zionism without a catalyst...
      even the Sheikh of Saudi Arabia said:
we don't have alcoholics here,
               only diabetics...
               why not give them a chop of
Bavaria and keep them sprechen Yiddish?
   that's what ibn Saud said to F.D.R.,
and i'm thinking... you cosy little *****...
you keeping these words holy, aren't you?
                  i can't use them?
i can't engage with them?
                          i did love the great nostalgia
dripping from the film a bridge of spies -
      i look at my grandfather and think...
are they for real? he's on a comfortable
                          pension...
            he retired early... what with the western
view of: gambling on retirement...
             men my age can only be saved by a war...
     the nostalgia concerning:
           oh yes, we are the good part.
the Soviet spy is treated nicely...
                        always nicely over there...
the American spy is given insomnia torture...
   never so nicely...
                                     Soviet B & W
                 as ever... the adamant Americans
always the serenity saints...
                          but i still manage to write
the stuff that bothers me from a first-person
perspective, suddenly the world is bigger
and colder than some teenager's bedroom
manifesto...
                        they said it was intended to be
a phone book... instead it was an autobiography...
   because Jill was gang ***** so many times
the word ****** was like a cactus shoved up her ***
   siusiu-majtki - she even found
                            ethnic languages offensive
because the google-translate didn't work:
   suddenly something became covered and she
wasn't informed... as i was informed
by today's article: FEMINISTS
BLOCK FREE SPEECH, SAYS BLACKWELL...
Blackwell is a feminist... or a former one...
          but as the new cohort marches in,
her concern (aged 83) puts her in the "dementia"
pile of *******...
                                       i agree:
diaper intellectuals...                             soft-cushions
                      once a Dada... now a Daddy! Daddy!
he offended me!
                                            well, i too would
have loved to walk through life and
only experience self-love and apathy...
                     and this is in a democratic society!
no wonder the export value dropped
dramatically after the child abuse scandals...
     a despot? at least he owns a harem
and isn't ashamed of owning one...
     seems democracy is purpose bound
to kiddy-fiddle and the obscure chance to
pet a dog...
              so even though i own a heritage
if it's not from a mouth of a lazy bourgeoisie
girl or boy: i'm branded compatriot of some
obscure first in the air cause...
                            we don't live in happy times...
  we live in times of tyrannical youth...
                     i'm just 30 and i can walk down
the street and spot you 30 little Hitlers in
uniform...                    
                                           and they haven't
even failed at anything, and already
they're screaming: DOWN WITH
                ESTABLISHING OLD AGE TO
BE ACCEPTED AS THE WISHED FOR ASCENDANCY!
               i know people who've seen
  black-clad SS-men, SS-men who were asked
         herr! bite bonbon! would give
  sweets to children so sweet that their fingers were
stuck together...
                               what do you have?
except history books and propaganda?
                           apparently it's called a "conscience",
   or how language is experiencing the most
abhorred version of censorship,
                                     not what is said:
the full extent meaning,
               but bullying certain words out of existence,
and that ******* smiley...
                                    it's perfect then!
   round of applause!
                                           the thing about
inheritors of a colonial past... they're never grounded...
    they're never realistic...
                 from colonising America the powers
at be decided it was turn to walk on the moon...
                           now it's Mars...
               usually the ones who are considered mad
are actually the ones who the collective feel
uncomfortable with...
                   because how could an individual
state common sense... when it's suggested that
that common sense is stated by the collective...
           well... apparently not...
common sense isn't a universal alignment of shared
interest in reasoning... an individual
possessing common senses comes into scrutiny
from the darker recess of "social bonding" -
            he's seeing the collective sense -
      which is not common sense -
                                common sense isn't common...
              everyone wishes that ordinary Joe Gray
could say something common,
          but Joe Gray only says something
omni-prevalent -
                               an automated version of
persuading: i.e. the past-reference of persuasion:
i.e. already persuaded -
                                           the bland c.v. repertoire
on game shows on t.v.: job and spare time hobbies...
                           the point of c.v. is to make
people ****** boring...
                                            that gimmick of:
and my life was flashing before my eyes...
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