.finally! heilung has released their album! i'll also join in at night, singing out my "mongolian" didgeridoo: the sounds one can make, with one's mouth closed.

also...
             talking... talking ruins writing,
it's one thing to give over
one's idle hands to the devil,
another to give one's idle
tongue to "god"...

                          - so between all the tripping
hippies from the supposed
  "golden age" of nostalgia genesis:
the 1960s...
            all the lysergic acid...
all the psilocin in: invading fungus...

       what a luxury that must
have been, "back then"...
       to have been able to experiment
with such... "assurances"
   (it's always going to be either
a metaphor or a misnomer,
                 just to keep the flow)...

of course i'm jealous...
             smoking marijuana in the late
00s was peppered with a paranoia
of being caught by the police...
   always, always in the back of your mind...
and since england has managed
to shove its head up h'america's ***
in terms of appreciating its culture...
it's more akin to: em... "oops"?
sorry, the dutch beat you to it...
you know what the germans
call the netherlands?
      ha ha... israel of the north...
yep... met two of them in amsterdam,
they made the reference to:
the promised land.

                 yeah... when marijuana was
marijuana, and not some chemically enchanced
monstrosity pushed by vietnamese
slave workers...
      o.k., i can get visual hallucinations...
but auditory?!
from marijuana?!
                the **** are these south asian
chinks pushing?!
   i know of one example:
the boy cut his genitals off,
then murdered his mother...
        i know of stubborn people...
          there's an inherent stubborness
in people... which probably explains
a lot given their historical predicament...
but then there's the "unlearned"
stubborness of a people...
who have read as much as is necessary
to allow them a regained status
of: illiteracy...
    they read: but they don't really
get the problem...
  so: take out the plough...
and plow along... toff-oblivious...
   she ******* called me a ******* yuppie
because i self-taught myself
this language...
                what... mommy ******
daddy ****** with their kept accents
taught me chameleon?
no... but the english authorities
taught me that i'm not exactly
a comfortable citizen to deal with...
maybe i fooled,
or maybe i simply exhausted...
oh... about ten psychiatrists...
    and behold: there's no asylum to keep
me in...
and for that?
do i look stupid,
or do they look stupid,
       because if england
has crammed its *** up h'america's
****... isn't marijuana legal
these days?

   i could have a sense of hatred
for england, akin to some jihadi...
   no... hatred is too exhausting
and it requires an immediate release...
i pity...
        i can't forgive...
because i can't forget...
            i pity, and therefore:
look down...
             and not from some higher
point of moral authority...
i'm as degenerate as the rest of them...
but from a perspective of
nuance... and hindsight...
          it could have been so much
simpler...
      if these... dittoheads stopped
making cannibalistic insinuations
of replica speech
with that "particular" genesis
                     of... you know the words:
this is my body...
           this is my blood...
      poetry is out-dated...
       oh it's all depressing and desperate...
yeah... now get me Samson
to rugby tackle that pillar of yours
and we'll be on our way.