i concede, if you really think
that i have to vote to make democracy
work, fine...
            you can have my right
to veto...
                 but god forbid you come
between me and taking out
recycling "waste" every sunday,
   esp. onion attired
   (t-shirt, t-shirt + a long sleeve
                                      shirt)
and a blue fruit of the loom jumper...
freezing both my imaginary
  **** and testicles off...
       the testicles are the real bit
of this "hermaphrodite" though...
           because what is this critique of
modern painting?
                 sheeeeee't,
                             a re-discovery of geometry?
we only achieved having rediscovered
the cube with picasso...
        sure, an over-quoted example,
       does that mean modern musicians
will re-dicover the orchestral triangle?!
hey, pots and pans with
a drum kit in the universe of
          a butterfly caused a tornado...
but please don't take away my fetish for
taking out recyclable goods,
   i know i wasn't born german,
but living among displaced germans
on an island (i.e. saxons):
    you get a lick as some sort of
compelling impetus to repeat and act...
        it's really bad to cling to rhyming
these days,
            once upon a time that's all
the poets did,
                   i ate
      a piece of pita, bread...
                     esp. in february, which is
arguably the coldest month,
   you can see the moon during the day,
and during the night...
                   it actually makes sense
to recycle...
                      the whole: "re-invention"
of a wheel...
                       sure, hardly a revolutionary
act, but, for some reason
a highly satisfactory "loss of limbs" act...
   because didn't "mediocre"
fester with the most potential for horror?
   though i wonder:
you ever attended a polish catholic mass,
when they recite the creed?
    satanic murmuring to me...
  had to down 200ml of cherry *****
to sit through it...
            because those who attend
the mass at Częstochowa are
gesticulating kneeling, praying, pitying
before the schwarzmadonna
               (ha ha, "irony"...
an etymological curiosity:
           (he) często, chowa...
                           often hides...
               that's the literal translation
for a name of a town...
               the pronoun is in there,
because that's how english functions,
shrapnel... pronouns need to be used
very often, polish?
           sometimes you can talk for
two hours and never use pronouns)...
point being: who are these people
praying to?
              must be the ****** artist
at some point...
            the person who actually drew
the icon...
                  because i find it beyond
contempt to have to
    internalise the subject matter contained
in the painting,
         or what's that objectively?
never ask a lunatic to explain the point
of a church with no one else
shackled to the church in there with him...
        spooks!
              yet as any german might,
i just love taking out the recyclable
materials in orange bin bags...
                     and you really can attest
to a moral compass via this simple feat...
        actually, most times two polacks
talk, you never actually use pronouns...
      hicky over there
   is still paranoid about other people
dropping the A-word,
               but he could sign of Hiroshima
and now he's riding a lazy eyed
donkey with a twitch in one its eyes...
jockeys, camel-jockeys, you name it...
                 i know you can hide a letter,
well, j, but no he(h)sus... zus... ave zeus!
   in that tilde on yer N...
                                but how would to
unravel the R-trill?
                rrrrrrrr-olling?
       in english the R has been numbed...
******* cobra bit the toff's tongue
and he's trying: not to slurr...
                                              r̃obot?
ha­ ha, ******* wavy line...
                     o.k.,
                                          we can do that...
i would have never have known that
R = sysiphus mechanism
    and O.... well, just that dumb piece
of sculpted brick...
                         can't believe it
though...
            so much pleasure from recycling
packaging.
summary...
    crotalus atrox,
    grzechotnik,
                          alternatively known
   as a one "man" band of
                    playing maracas -
    unless you can beat this trill-R on the tongue
representation worth of tilde:
                                        go for it!
   re-inventing the wheel is going to be,
real easy from here-on-in.