if it ain't the three drunk giraffes learning
to sow: knitted knickers...
and: for sure... the bulldozer'd
leopard...
          and if we meet a zombie...
just imagine if...
  just imagine if... the quran told the
ummah to **** all pigs...
just imagine what sort of leather-jackets...
what belts and what shoes
we could steal from that decrepit
quasi-carrier of soul: of animation
devoid concerning itself with
the function of... the heart...
the liver... the brain...
all the more invested in the x-ray spectacle
of bones and the exertion of muscles...
no... i'm pretty sure the pigs would be
left freely roaming...
rummaging back into...
their less domesticated form of
a boar... huff and puff...
and grow a pair of hooks for teeth...
the pigs would still be here...
once... <burp> and only when...
the kuffar / ***** were either all dead...
or converted...
and if converted... then they would
be the janissaries or the mamluks
precial copre of fighters...
to rid the world regime
of the omni-caliphate: Islamia...
from the Morge-haul invaders from
Mars... or Mongolia...
i never know which is "which"...
the lament from Alexandria...
or the lament from Baghdad...
but the glorious books never says:
**** all pigs... it just says... don't eat them...
lucky for the pigs...
a **** gives two rations of pork
for an infidel a martyr status...
but don't eat the pork...
           **** the kuffar... wow...
last time i heard is was merely a *****...
ah... hafiz... too similar...
extending an insinuation into
qof-from-afar!
i dare say... reading Dickens for an
hour did me much good...
all those existential complications
from russia: circa the same time...
the angst of urban alienation on the streets
of st. petersburg...
completely missing...
reading Dickens having already read
a little bit of this... and a little bit of that...
cricket... and going hunting for
rooks: crows... in the trees...
for a morning ancedote of pie for breakfast...
and... speaking like a stenograph...
better than braille...
just saying: the Tehran folk might as well
march: blessing the virus...
which they would... surgical face-masks
and the niqab are somehow synonymous
with ninjas... or johnson's...
   satan's postpboxes?
       i am pretty sure i heard that one...
lucky for me and the belief in
Abraham's *****... a return to...
when i didn't make a runner with a childhood
friend of mine... days after his mother
committed suicide by drinking vinegar...
Hubert... "hubercik"...
now... but i do remember...
those two fine fine... slim... belts...
and a glorious hot bath afterwards...
to: MAN, UP!
                          to conjure up the mind
of that 6 year old...
    i tried to replicate the violence...
on a dobberman of mine...
two whips for biting a ***** of the same
household...
nearly gauged my eye out with a bite...
i guess the teeth about to bite
were implying: watch a little...
i could almost understand a prolonged
waterfall of cementing memory
of a drunk father...
that i could remember...
but all this... scarse female boxing ring
antics... i can forgive my mother...
but a slap in the face for "lying"
when visiting my grandparents...
it's only a shame her last words,
her last real words an onomatopoeia
of vowels caught by H of the tetragrammaton...
7 times she said in one night...
and if we're playing games...
the 7 hill of Rome -
after all... the new testament is the work
of a greco-hebrew "conspiracy"...
what is 666 is turned into Χ Ξ Σ -
the letters...
a 7 headed beast...
oh... you mean the roman numerals?
I, V, X, L, C, D, and M...
                    looks like a 7 to me...
how did they do it...
to have to use 7 letters as numbers...
i'm guessing they... must have...
reserved special rights in keeping
the meaning of number: upper-cased
and the meaning of letter: lower-cased...
but oh: a violence between men
i could understand...
like i can understand... what i understood
when wrestling dogs in my childhood...
omni- litany of the "god" and the affair
of a woman swinging a forehand...
to be later met with
a drill shoved up her ****** and...
a ***** to a frankenstein to the head...
at the temple... when pleasure...
oh pleasure... no pleasure...
and if i were to just forget memory...
and get a tattoo on my body like
a branding at a butchers' for a hanging
hook-dripping squat of grizzly... meat...
at the ready: not mauled...
          turned into a cottage pie of: mince...
but bitten off in chunks that could best
represent... the divine torsos of
         sculpture... or a steak tartare...
yes... they would sooner **** the infidel
than they would **** the pig...
shame... since they wouldn't eat either...
and the pig... is such... a perfected animal...
you can eat almost all of it...
well... from snout to tail...
except for the oink... except for the oink...
for me that's also a capital scam...
when it comes concerning
persian carpets... esp those that boast
about i-ran-out-of-persia...
       having come across the scam in
Sarajevo...
               elsewhere the sort of "men" resorting
the the violence of... sneakers...
and... nothing of the fist
and much of a Medici intrigue...
     whether by poison or by scam...
a fist a knee **** a self-evident opponent
i would probably gesticulate at
with a frown a growl of a poker's-best-kept
secret...
that there's no need for a consciousness
of the heart... beside the heart-attack survivor...
or the cardio-stellar surgeon...
that the brain doesn't exist
outside the realm of a... haemorrhage...
or the neurosurgeon...
         the bones beside the toothpicks...
the teeth as the bite exposed...
and the arithmetic of the osteologist...
my self in these matters not invested...
   that somehow a bilingualism can betray
a schizoid theory of...
exfoliating gwammar...
       and all that can be excused is a rhyme
and all that can be excused:
what can't be excused is a blank page...
because... about as many more of these:
that found origins in nothing
and in nowhere and in: not-how
and in no-be...
                            toes crisping...
on the edge of tomorrow...
for a flame of absolute darkness...
crisping... well: more like freezing
to a numbing death...
                      but the crackling is still
summoned...
as any excuse to exit:
is met.