only in the western warsaw bus station,
do i see this once,
this ever present feral nibble of
a cultivated world...
               notably with the ukranians,
but also the remnants of
                          mongol blood...
and i feel the least bit of being content...
but mostly...
                        aware...
                like i stumbled upon
a wasp crown not yet woken to take
to marking itself with
a million bites...
to pry open a single eye in
                          western culture...
                 then fat ukranian women in this
terminal used to say,
gluttonous:
                   polish-boys don't know
how to cry... or: polish men boys cry a lot...
sure...
                 and aukranian women:
really know how to eat,
when no civilised food is provided...
              how would islam even
fathom this godforsaken land?
                     leisuring tactics over
              the consumption of a beef stake?
and this is the central of warsaw,
which, gouges out the eyes of the people,
torusits, who try to forget the past
of these lands...
                       lucky i once had a russian
girlfriend...
      shame, would have kept her,
hadn't i known what matrimony rights
she made rues with
her pseudo-matrimonial-tie-itch...
           queen Slovakia...
                         *****-nerve-slip-up
when it came to Siberia...
                      thing just doesn't become:
calm without a cue...
          you allow the ukranian merchants
through...
    you just allow them
through...
             ****-washed english teen boys?
keep the argument,
put your hands on the top of your
head, say to them:
   *******, you don't that
i paid you more?
     and them watch them scuttle away
blessed
in trans-gender: the right ****-sure
would have ****** the ***** away...
           you gave me 10 quid,
i paid in 7 on top,
and you would have had a *******?
   and i was wrong?!
                 i'm "native"...
and even when i take to the passing
of reception of the town:
i... don't exactly feel like culminating
any experience past the hour...
                get all fidgety...
     sworn proverb....
                           cultish people....
oh god, i love the western
ivory tower intellectuals....
               can't get enough of them...
little retards running around
the confines of a colliseum?
   who could mind them....
                              but you come down
to the western bus terminal
of warsaw....
    and are not found feeding sparrows?
      just the odd sparrow tree,
the "usual" paupers...
                            i hope you see
me smile in the shadow of death
attempting to clutch to feeding a shadow...
       you know,
prior to noon...
                             big people in
little people places...
                          tectonic maneuverings
leading to:
                        the gulf of scoop and,
                                   hybrid devour.