and in all - who deranges the work of thought? no one - in its weaker endeavors, it merely deranges itself th(r)ough the false desire for public validity.

and has not all anglophone intellectualism
been nothing more,
or become nothing more:
than a case of validation?
it just seems a validation for a sorry
case: of a club of plum kidneys
poached in punches...
  ******, you cry one more time,
i'll add another worth's of harvest...
oh, i'm not apprehensive of
violence, i sometimes punch myself
in the face to test the mercedes glee -
might as well, it's worth the wait.

they, these people talk so much,
can i make a suggestion?
the the 1st 2nd amendment?
i.e. you are free to speak,
but you're also free to get
a leech knuckle punch -
  can i introduce the freedom
of thought, as the higher
prioritised base concerning for law?

it's what kierkegaard wrote
as the antithesis for the american
constitution:
people complain about a "freedom"
of speech, yet so little managed
to concern themselves about
a freedom of "speech":
that ambiguity, that's thought.

am i really the one to care?
      we talk as much *******
as we think it,
   who cares about hearing the raw
herring flappers stinking with
ultra-caviar perfumermery?
    cheque please!
i'm this close to about to: puke.

oddly enough i'd revive a state of
politics with:
      you have the freedom to think
what you want...
oh right... the claustrophobics...
apparently thinking is a congested
place, or some sort of claustrophobia
hell..
       were americans claustrophobic
to begin with, feeling their egos
and thoughts couldn't fit
into their heads?!

   priests always, so far, always derail their
train of believers with their sermons,
does that matter?
  it matters on the grounds of secular
terms...

and yes, my life is like an art gallery
with only one painting in it...
     i have a canvas,
              i have a painting,
i have an inanimate object either side
of the painting,
      there are the inanimate objects within
the pain-taking (painting) observation,
then there's the observer, who also
looks like a whooped hoping pigeon
on one leg pretending a tango -
        only if in your life does there
emerge a canvas, can you start to form
yourself into a true observe -
  a true observer in that you paint:
by being the unobservable unobserved -
"telekinetic" in the sense of:
                        the unavoidable change -
taking place, without surprise or
warning...
           then again i live in a telekinetic zoo...
i change without want or will,
  on the carousel of seasons...
                a *work of thought, as ever,
is hugely undermined,
      since this "work" does not eventuate
in the zenith of telekinesis...
           and as any fancy -
     psychology fakes "progress" by attaining
telepathy - psychology is just shy of
attaining telepathy -
  but it does so, nonetheless, by its rainbow
of pathologies exhumed from the crypts
of the unconscious;

summa summarum:
psychology deems to call telepathy -
         dialogue,
                a one sided case of
      the psychologist being the narrator -
and the patient, as any patient,
       only a julien sorel in stendhal's work...

i find that all psychologists are
psychopaths -
               they're atheists for the most part,
who deal with the logic of the pathos of
a psyche (the workings of the ailing of possessing
a soul) - they're like cyborgs asked a moral
question...
                  they deal with the pathology
of a non-existent soul - or otherwise they
try to treat asthma -
  another term for breath in grecian -
         or some other variant of the debate...
don't know, don't care, i have a dinner to cook:
meatballs in tomato sauce with rice and
beetroot & cucumber pickles; sorry.