for one, i don't understand this atheistic concept of seeking eternity, by the sole way, of passing on one's genes; never got to grips with this, dare i say, existential fetish? in all honesty, some people rather pass a train-of-thought, just as it happens when socrates became neglectful to the family life... some people have other "gene" infested "babies"... one man had his "baby", known as the lightbulb... another had the steam-engine... another had the general anaesthetic... yet another had penicillin... **** me, the list goes on-and-on... in reproductive terms, that's called what? i.v.f.? yes, metaphorically speaking.

and so i can only consummate myself
to the dedication of being oath-ridden...
    i know i'd be a ****** partner for a woman,
except *one,      if helen of troy
    could launch a thousand ships...
       my woman is -      sophia of edinburgh...
third year at university,
    majoring in chemistry...
     age? 21...
                             prompt?
        learning, for the first time, of a subject
known as philosophy...
    this is england, and if you're in a catholic
school:
                theology is a priori with respect
to the dame, that -sophia is.
    argument no. 1: why teach 16 year olds
the ethical arguments for pro / con
            surrounding euthanasia / abortion?
from what i can remember,
        perhaps 2 teen pregancies around
   the year 2001 in my class of graduates
from school... 2.
                    so here's the crude part,
  how's the ******* with sophia?
           well... i tell myself in freudian terms:
genitals: my ego is the phallus,
               and a philosophy book is a ******;
****, i love that imagery;
                       i know i'd be a terrible partner
to anyone but ms. sophia / sophia of edinburgh,
why? i drink, i smoke, and my philia
        for music makes me, seemingly deaf
with regards to having a conversation about:
having children, buying a house, shopping
              for furniture, or at the supermarket,
tax revenue, the in-laws,
        you can blame the sound of cars and
headphones for my "deafness"...
     oh yeah... and bird songs are annoying as
**** in the morning...
          lucky robin, the silent bird,
    god! this head-wave is doing my head in!
         34°C... and in terms of writing:
                  nowhere is there supposed to be
a cohesion, a clear narrative,
                       much ado with dutiful thanks
to the evolution of tristan tzara into w. burroughs...
but again: ego with a philosophy book -
   it's not what's supposed to come out with
regard to continuing some sort of tradition of
upkept narrative -
                            after all - empedocles -
so onto the comparison in non-relative terms:
i've sent over 12,000 (12 thousand) ships (poems)
in her direction, and more are to come i suspect;
if only these american mig-taus?
                 mgtow? see how ugly english has
             become... we're reduced to acronyms...
that's ******* sign language to me, that is...
  is they could only learn from an english bachelor...
ah yes, the second silence: studying diacritical
markings...        mig (russian)
   so this canadian chick is an apache helicopter...
which makes me a MiG 29...
        or              na migi
    (in polish, translated into) conversation
                                                    ­  by winking,
  well... "conversation", more like indicating certain
prompts;
   for all the criticisms of the bible...
      darwinism will never produce any great works
of art, esp. poetry... and yes! yes! these people
didn't exist! how could they!
  we don't have their
      (a claustrophobic german word):
nationalinsurancenumberbirthcertificatephonenumberhomeaddr­essdrivinglicensebankdetailse-mailaddressmarriagecertificatetaxre­venue tescoclubmembercarddetailssocialmediaaccount  

   (sorry for being  mean, but james joyce
was also mean; no ******* punctuation
   at the end of ulysses(!) making the use of bookmark
almost futile).