what's that blow movie character,
tht johnny depp character?
i was once upon
a time approached by
a "paddy chav"
  character in high school...
georgie jung
what with my french braid...
what with two years
growing my hair long
in highschool,
being called, chewbaca?
                      paid off..
but not...
          af you'd expect...
i had teen girls:
   ****-pants asking me what
shampoo i used...
        herbal essence
i'd reply...
                 i pretended to
rock climb,
i was big on squash, gym,
and cycling...
and where did that get me?
liter of ms. amber
and 10 years later:
i kind of looked back...
i began to "forget"
that there was something
wrong with me,
i never pointed a finger,
but this england we're talking
about:
if there's nothing wrong
with this island,
then sure as **** there's certainly
something wrong with it...
now? now i give a **** up
to the point where
a supermarket cashier
calls me darling or not...
that's what i give a **** about...
whether i chase her to the floor
to pick up her keys,
and, "whether" of not i remember
to tell her: good-night...
**** california dreaming...
i could have wanted to
revive the life of  american dream...
i never wanted to see the norwegian
fjords...
      me?
not even as far as iceland...
i....
       want the reincarnation
procedure associated
with the faroe islands...
wardrunga...
the crow,
pecking, croacking,
pecking, croacking,
croacking, pecking...
   one eye blind...

              kán skål...
i don't want to visit:
cali-for-nya...
                  i want to go somewhere
to practice the patience
of Tao...
      like south yorkshire...
or the foreo islands...
     i want to live a life...
where the world:
is dead....
to me, and any "beside",
extension of my imprint,
indentation...
      i want the world
worth the Tao inversion
of nihilism...
i want:
      **** the world:
but i'm still in it sort of
scenario.

                  this is not the sort
of instagram h'american
blueprint *******...
    no... this transcends
the "casual" traffic
of "information economics"...
or whatever new spew
comes our way...
                        
  what sort of, "economy",
dictates the rules of "information
economics",
when a hude portion of "it"
is censored?
          
i don't want to go to a montel
parking-lot,
florida, las vegas,
new york,
los angeles,
berkley,
         ******* disneland...
i just want to visit
the fareo islands...

   mind you,
the english, as an island peoples....
do not resemble
island peoples' ontology...
of being...
solipsistic...
  idiosyncratic...
the english are an island folk,
that "think"
but then sooner or later
retract "thought"
in being aligned
to a continental mentality...
            
sámal joensen-mikines....

   i come from a continental
stock, and history,
living among island peoples...
and yet...
i'm no more an island "person"
than i am a continent "person"...
maybe... just maybe,
i'd get the drift / riff
  into an islander mentality
if i lived on the faroe islands
or iceland...
not in britain though,
not in in ireland...
          i don't need to buy into
all of this ****,
this Pakistani
   virtual reality of Brimingham,
this Hindu / Sikh Manchester
pandering *******
"as if": every now, "supposedly"
likes cricket, for ****'s sake!

    i don't like being told
what to do, esp. a second time,
tome, of when i did,
what i was supposed to do when
learning the language,
by some,
           ****-boot-licking
   strap-on-ultra-gagging-******-tour
pansies, with a fetish
   for prepubescent drag-queens, o.k.?!

the english...
they're hardly the islander
stereotype mentality equivalent
to someone who's faroe
or icelandic...
they're continental through
and through...
look at them now quiver
at the prospect of
"getting it wrong"...
******* wankers...
    saxon son's of *******...
i live with them:
but that doesn't mean
i have to like them...
   their language,
having impreganted me...
will not, result,
in, some *****-slapped
integrational pristine *****-*****
of regurgitation,
will it?!

             i have my own head
to think with and to think for...
i don't need some Bristolian /
   Devon *******
telling me what a **** can say,
and what i can't!

made easier...
thank god i didn't come 'ere
for the women,
but for an armchair's worth
of language utility.