i hear the argument from the little yanks, i.e. the brits, the wanks, all the ****** time: learn the language, we'll welcome you in... like ******* will, unless i'm not a ****... i'm only welcome: when i displace you as the main ethnic similis... i can speak an english better than you, yet still you'll persist talking about agendas of demographic platitudes, **** the yanks, and **** the little yanks, the british wanks! i'm actually waiting for your little project to take root in the construction industry: odd... there are more women in the military, than in the construction industry! that's ****** sexist... we should have more women throwing bricks over their shoulders and being equal with men; ah wait, cows on parade! cows on parade! the military will soon be a place for women leaders on one side, and desperate lone wolves on the other... with the real battle ground, the real trenches, being the buildings under construction, in the construction industries... your new warfare agenda, has only just begun.

the brooding blood boiling: i leave no allegiance
for sure, i make no friend, as i make no foe,
i stand alone, in the waters of all that i: abhor.
a somali family of ten will sooner find housing,
a nigerian, a russian and arab millionaire,
then either i or the native sprechen
cold-touch chicken goosebump fest of hate -
and i won't be alone...
  but the moment you scheme your little
pathetic racial stereotyping incisors -
your little scheming gnat incisor gashing at
the wound that is supposedly never to heal:
i'll sell you a new testament,
since you blatantly woke too late to
correlate the secular history of the ancient times,
the unearthing of the text, and
the cushioning for a st. augustine's hierarchy
of absolution...
    rest my bone, upon a grecian lie?! never!
i will sit with whip in one hand,
and honey in the other - and speak for one
else, other than my other significant "other"
namely myself, and lead the illiterate
bludgeons: upon retezat peak -
       cutting off the bluntness of impaling
crucifix - to make a doll from those impaled -
gesticulating with arms, while the sharpened
pike slouched into their ****...
              as if imitating dolls attached to
    spiderweb threads to dance the puppets' dance...
that's crucifixion: doubled up upon.
first they tell you learn their language,
and you comply, but then they ask you learn
their crisis, and you begin to rebel saying:
i signed up to the language:
  not your bewildering existential crisis!
        
by the way, have you noticed that modern
political conversation in the west
lies heavily on the pivot side of the cartesian
sum? i've noticed it...
   political commentators hardly ever think!
all i hear is: sum this sum that, sum sum sum,
i.e. i'm a capitalists, i'm a communist,
i'm a libertarian, i'm a liberal, i'm a conservative,
i'm a socialists, **** me and the spectrum alike:
i'm really starting to think that
the heavy-sided state of affairs summons
only the cartesian *sum -
    it's beyond a q. & a. session where we
exchange badges, labels and other assortments
of pitching for a perfect freshers stall of
asking for attention: eventually
the leverage shifted from a pivotal balance
to a one-sided gesture: i am this, i am that -
what do i think of anything? none of what i
"supposedly" am, or am not.
  it's no longer what's question / answer worthy,
what is central is: what's thought-worthy?

summa summarum?

1. by talking your have the problem of defending
a "cartesian" sum - the bit where you say you
are, but can, in a lightning flash switch to otherwise:
est non primo causa; or?
2. by thinking you have the "problem" (i.e. you don't)
of "defending" (i.e. ditto)
        the kantian-aversion-of-cartesianism -
i.e. the kantian "cogito" (hence the aversion) -
      i.e. cogito in per se /
                                        cogito ex per se...
3. the kantian-descartes mongrel
    (a) the noumenon (thought)
     (b) the phenomenon ("being") -
and how many detractors have come from the latter?
a noumenon does not implode to later
explode and cause a tsunami of "worthwhile"
imitations,
  in the same vein that a phenomenon has
to implode to later explode and cause but one
imitation that starts behaving like a cloning
archetypical zombifying effect of the necessary
regurgitated, half-fed intentions...
   i can't believe the fusion of kant with descartes
seems so completely:
   by mere talk one has to shield the "being",
and become lost in labels and an appropriate
handling of data,
     the mantra of:
                      i'll walk before i'll crawl...
and so many defences, and all these conversations
ever end up sound as are: hi, my name is bill.
      
you write, you mine - you don't mime -
  the moment your stop mining: you start miming,
you enter the ancient grove of the hive -
but none of the current talks
seem to outweigh the cogito in contra to the sum,
since much of the talk is a stark cataract of
what sum could be, should the already sharpened
cogito of a blade, be met, with a sum
akin to a shield of an idiotic: scarcely knowing
the difference brain of an actor-idiot...
  hey, if philosopher-warriors are to be
distinguished: have you ever thought
that the actor-idiot is an easy task -
  did you for once think that playing an idiot's
part as an intelligent person was ever
going to be easy?
          a warrior-philosopher happened only
once, in his ability to put you off your guard.

kant in the cartesian terms of the kantian
term noumenon: thought.

    kant in the cartesian terms of the kantian
term phenomenon: "being" -
  and to boot, youth, the phenomenon of
punk, extinguished once a new zeitgeist
emerges - and the phenomenon unguarded
by thinking, but by mere imitation:
disintegrates into a fiddler-on-the-roof moment
of lacks: introspection, retrospection,
         by-invitation-only-itemisation
            relegated to stretch-armstrong televised
biographic of the zeitgeist...
          
luckily i can write this sort of rigid *******,
and enjoy a whiskey sharpshooter more.