i dare you,
to...
     adorn sunglasses...
while spectating the night's
sky...
and see...
    more than...
one... star...
      and to think...
that wojciech kilar
was the same man who
made composition for
dracula...
      or that...
polish mourning fiasco...
leszek spreschen to jarvis...
                
but not the vavel:
        not cracow...
he's not king!
   a ******* oops-e-daisie...
but king?
  this... karakan
          quasi-napoleon?

at least...
in america they call it
the white house,
in europe?
  we, we, we call it
the belvedere....

you don't marry a president
to an autocratic lineage of kings!
of exchange units!

Powązki Cemetery...
that is where the ceremony...
and end of,
should have begot,

       you do no govern a modern
Poland...
rekindling it with a 1st
governing body,
you, do, not,
   bless the grave,
of political office,
   to be settled,
in the ivory cranium,
of the gravestones,
                  of kings!

you know what happened
to the architect
  of st. basil's cathedral,
       postnik yakovlev?
tsar ivan had his eyes gouged out...
so that...
  he wouldn't see anything
more beautiful...
literally: who knows?
  did he really, or did he pay him
enough... to shut up someone
akin to a peer akin to tolstoy?

- but you don't bury a public
official, in the sacred harvest
of a past,
a public pseudo-napoleon...
among... kings!
                        you don't do it!
it's not a ******* replica
of a lenin red sq. mausoleum...
with a "living"...
  verifiable mummy!
doubling on the egyptian effect!

you... take... your grief...
and burry it... in its proper place...
not on the mount of kings...
you... *******...
   quasi-mongol (height)...
                   basis for grieving twins!

no!
             you do not make convent
within the confines of death,
allying public officials... with kings!
you... *******... retards!