ich suenge gerne huebschen sanc
i would not sing no song
no praise no tales of others:
justify my own adventure
of life's teeming ways
    and unjustified clamor of feelings...

        from the onset i can testify:
i'm just as ****** up as anyone
who's anyone and anyone who's no one:

don't pity me
this little stupid me
this poor little stupid me

das arm wenig dumm mich

i'm no master manipulator
i don't exactly know what i want
perhaps that's because i want so little
this little me wants so little
to drown in shrinking
to shrink and falter and shrink
and falter

asking my mother what is love
when her love is
just a constrictive riddle and a stressor
to owning
my heart for my heart to no other woman
O

         round and round the sun rises
and sets
night comes with an entourage of nightmares
and stomach cramps
and with that the body dictates
what is right and what is wrong

i don't care for intellect and intellectualizing
ethics
not from the mind but from the heart
i know what's right...

bargaining on philosophy:
a Kantian quadratic
of a priori and a posteriori
analytical and synthetic -
i've heard one is impossible

but not for the sake of knowledge
but for the sake of judgement
i much prefer the taste of sound judgement
than knowledge
hyper-fantastical non-applicable
talk of astronomers and what is
the buoyancy of the universe
suspended on a rotating disk on a camel's ****

like threading through eyes
of needle some bollocking of string theory
and i thought i'd escape all that
wasted childhood on how people educate
people
churning out people incapable of
changing a light bulb or
throwing a perfectly good appliance out
simply because the fuse in the socket
burned out...

          last time i asked my mother about
love i was 21 and i paid
over 15 years in hell
and in this hell i met god as a great wind
whirling and dispersing a choir
of singing entities
and restless ever since
i cannot compensate this riddle like
protection or the Guard of Mammon
i can't claim a reality
but since reality began disintegrating
around me
no manner or amount of psychiatric
scrutiny would endow me with
my original: solipsistic narrative of dimmed
sight...

but when it comes to manipulation:
oh yes, stay in London: the Window to the World
or don't: stay in St. Petersburg
and watch Europe: the funnel of the world
instead
or not: either -
but don't move to Kauai and become caged
not to some 55 year old woman
with a child
and an aging mother: remember i'm your
mother and i'm aging too
now that i'm this reborn Ms *******
Florence Nightingale
and i have a puppet of a brother dependent
on me kissing me gently
all our former animosity fizzled out
or that i won't be able to forgive my
own mother on her deathbed

so love is this unreasonable force?
i've witnessed a second hell
less energizing than the former
like a plateau of stones
but no hill
unlike the punishment of Sisyphus
no upheaval no single stone
to drag up a hill
but instead this plateau of rubble
and i'm here: bound to the chains of
unimaginative torturing
of self - by self...
a love like gravity a love most damning
because of the vicinity of reality
while all around me: in no special way
new atheism dies
and i'm tickled by being a proselyte
toward: having found "conversion" impossible
toward the Hebrew ways
something Islamic is smiling at me
but then the Islamic peasants like
their Christian counterparts come swarming
with bad manners
and perhaps not drunk on the furor of football
but still ill mannered
and all the bliss and intellectual comforts
of glancing past the primordial ontological
focus on man
disappears:

master manipulator my ***!
all i said was - and i was adamant about it...
'but what's the point of me visiting you
on Kauai if i have to rent and
drop pennies into the pockets of your friend
why can't i just stay with you
and instead of having rent money
i buy a ******* canoe or maybe two
and you me and Reyla
have a fun time exploring all the rivers
on that island the size of London
why don't i just better use the money
and you really think that...
we're already sleeping together
you made that adamantly clear
when dis-inhibited moaning in the hot tub
i'm seriously have a hissing fit
i have never experienced froth on my phallus
because i tried cheating
but instead i paid £130 for massaging
a *******'s bruised *** and calves and
that bit above the calves:
she didn't even have the knowledge
to **** off a ***** that hasn't been circumcised
and i know my body as i know you
and your body knows me
and i just hear this nagging realism
of mother saying: oh but you can talk
to me,
remember in ten years time she'll be 65
and you'll be in your 40s
and then widower...
well marriage and the Green Card
while you watch all those hungry Mexicans
not giving a **** still storming the border
and in any nightmare
the plummeting contention for ordinary
people to breed
bus driver replacements
and who's to say what's going to be automated
and jeez:

         and and and this is not a pretty verse
it's not supposed to be
but finally your mother reached out
because you were probably crying
and now you became the little girl
to your little girl and it finally sank in
that i'll buy a ticket the next day
and come and cuddle and *******
but i'm not paying rent when i can just
sleep on your lanai like a dog
but serious how can your mother think
that she lived her life full of frolic and
now makes it impossible for me
to rearrange your life a little
by being able to drag your daughter out
of your bedroom where she slept
with you
oh god that felt so good
dragging that mattress from your friend's
abode to your daughter's room
and setting up the bed for her
like a Jesus but unlike a Jesus
the choking joke being: well:
if can't find a crucifix to tackle and take
to Golgotha at least find a mattress to take
it up to a girl's bedroom
and then pray, pray for some **** antics
because i was the: huh? sort of looks
****** but perfectly salient
in my approach baking that 13 candle birthday cake
and right now
i was actually storming around my head
(without a head to speak of)
doing ego-juggling-with-eggs
because i heard enough public intellectualism
in English to know that people
get muddied in muddles of the performance
art of seeming confident and clued in
and with the number of books i read
myself i'm choking with disbelief at the gad
of these people having read so little
yet able to talk so much!"

love arrives outside the realm of knowledge...
i'm seeking judgement
i much prefer to orientate myself
around judgement rather than knowledge:
regardless of knowing:
knowledge becomes trivial and automated
when contending away from intellect
and ethics: spoken of
but not felt...

the knowledge of riding a bicycle
and the knowledge of swimming
the knowledge of walking
much better than questing for... blah blah
analytical a priori: 2 + 2 = 5?
given that 2 + 2 = 4...
        2 + 2 = 5? only because there was no actual
origin of numbers in Hindu or Arab
benefactors given that: if you look closely:

   2 + 2 = 5?  
                             Z + Z = S

no? it's ******* clear as daylight this is impossibly
love since it hurts because
it's not somehow defunct, devoid:
leftover scrap of makeshift food stuff divination
no wine and bread cannibalism
such loser poetics as an interlude with
a Swiss master of Cheese alluded to
when his case was presented
about using one ticket twice
to catch a metaphorical bus to a metaphorical
end of journey that was the moon
but not the stadium:

    if only it was a music event and not a sport
event...

now Edie is emailing me and i waited
in agony
for an email
thankfully i severed and ghosted her
but didn't: not really:
i was high and lonely and probably drunk
so for the next few days
i was sober and realized that i had a splinter
in my head
or like a horse with a grain of sand
in its ear started pounding at the wall
in vain trying to get it out the itch
was impossible
but now i feel alive once more
since your tears can be ascribed to:
but i can use that money for better purposes
than rent!
i can but a canoe i can at least
watch gleefully at you watching t.v.
and Reyla telling you to wake up
but i still love you snoring
and who cares
if by the time you're 65 i'll be in my 40s
and whatever that entails
but at least that's still 10 years
i will make up for the 15 or so years
my 20s and half of my 30s erased
for the pursuit of: **** know's what
now i'm supposed to make cleaning the house
a priority over writing this
and: ha! concerning writing...
well: if i were to find the semblance of effort
and care for outcome of readership
then yeah: dumb down and write
50 Shades of Grey
this literacy **** brigade is not for my liking
i will have to write the most unsatisfying
scribble for a Clued in Society of Anti-Marxists
or something
because that's how that one man's intellect
enabled the spearhead monstrosity of
how Slavic peoples congregated and left
shoes not walked in on magic carpets
then took to walking on stilts in Germanic
post-Imperial idealism...
broadly speaking: Germanic invoking
the disparity of ethnicity among the French
the English and the Germans and Scandinavians

i never understood why Denmark was
considered Scandinavian
given the past month of terrible weather
why is England even remotely considered
western when it actually should be
considered
a Scandinavian outpost
akin to Iceland why think of this place
as somehow this ideal western junction
oh god knows but i'm pretty sure
if i blah blah for long enough there will
be some clarifying justification for all this...

but it's finally sinking in...
terrible loath of me finally manages to find
the tears and knows it's love
but from previous experiences
i'm rough
and diamond but that's nothing special
but it just might be
if i get your mother to realize that we
are sleeping more sleeping
than sleeping this is ugly
             i feel uplifted i judged correctly
without knowledge
and you can judge correctly without
knowledge, per se:
when you ride a bicycle and reach
the summit of spacial-coordination
on two endoskeletons:
of one's own bones
and a bicycle frame

compared to the exoskeleton of a car
and it's just that use of mirror
and fail-safe mechanics...

clearly i don't intend to be smart
but rather: dumb dumb dumb
and i don't meet that with an air of superiority
i'm writing out of sheer desperation
and that doesn't bother me
in the slightest
once the early morning cramps
wriggled in i knew i was giving birth
to a daughter a lover a mother...

             the airy-fairy logistic of love
on paper
written O so sparingly
i would gladly bargain with a life in London
against a life in Kauai
and it wouldn't be a cage it would be a relief
because after finding her
it's not so much that i can find
another but becoming so attached
to the mint and pristine of licking
an envelope and sending whatever might
be enclosed to her

but i did delete all the explicit photographs
she sent me
i thought that was cheap of me
asking for such stuff
now, instead, i have a clean conscience
to start again
if i can be given another chance
to start and dream big
but only:

listen! i would gladly fly out to Kauai ****-naked:
in principle i will not be paying a
faking it we're ******* happy
i thought this was America
not some lost Polynesia outpost of tribal
morality
but if we're going down that route
who's to say that there need be a priest
and a church junction to finalize matters
when the "terrible" has already happened?