w. h. auden said that only the Hitlers of the world
wrote at night,
but Bukowski only wrote at night:
oh, oh the horror of writing during the day
and not laboring as an understudy of being
and doing: an electrician electrical- (respectively):
just this flimsy dealings of language
and love of curbing enthusiasm...
wayward to Victoria and Ukraine with
a monstrous face: succulent smiles...
    almost like the finish touches to Ezra Pound's
cantos:
because i giggle and lay in the garden
with my arm folded into a pillow:
this darkly grey humid Augustus' month allure:
poetry is to paint with sounds...
i sometimes see it: i sometimes don't:
i do say when people are poorly organized
and i see a ****** painting...
but writing during the day is like the antithesis
of carpe diem... truly:
only i but soon enough: not even me:
will know that writing is best done by candlelight
and alone and with no one awake in
the household so
that it doesn't feel like you're robbing them
of their thoughts...
will i ever reach the tides of Kauai:
*** as leverage:
a woman in my past once did that:
tried to leverage the whole point of conversation
with ***...
shackle me, domesticate me...
i am domesticated on my own terms:
i cook what i like to eat,
i don't like fussy eaters of cheese maniacs:
what i wouldn't do to be
like this child and eat dry pasta...
i knew a guy for 10min's worth of a train ride
who confused coffee grains for chocolate:
he attempted to head over to Edinburgh
for the fringe festival and tell a few bad jokes...
me: alone... how else...
rolling metal pellets from a balcony into my mouth...
they might still be in my body:
i don't know whether you can ****
out metal...
but this does feel like an after-party poem
from the one i already provided:
journalistic entry:
i listen...                            i don't necessarily
have to see: well:
at least not see with both eyes to go
all cross eyed...
with two eyes i can enter the underworld of the sea
but with only one eye
i get to play hide and seek with the ridge
of my nose...
barbarians they said:
but how intact was their veneration for the tongue
and letter...
that the Prose Edda are: still intact
and at least that's more than what the other Nomads
disclosed!
why bother ourselves with these Books
of a People who can't be bothered
to lift up a toilet seat when *******
and instead **** on the toilet seat:
for someone, "someone" to later come
and curse needing to take a ****
having a dry wipe of the seat
but then imagine worm parasites that travel
in ***** to osmosis birth themselves
into the ****-cheeks, huh?!
******* camel jockeys and the Halal sheep
shaggers!
huh?! and this concept of a queue:
so i barked out: mate?! you see this?!
is this something ******* imaginary?!
you in the special orbit of bypassing how people
organize themselves or what?!
so you're telling me we're not queuing?
you can just bypass this meager architecture of
a human scribble of timing out from
a workplace?
wow! wow! the ******* Islamic tinged ignorance
like the story of how one ******
Esau gave up his birthrights for a bowl of
******* gravy... or whatever it was:
i don't like the sacrosanct attitude of these desert
nomads...
what about the nomads of Polynesia and
the nomads of Scandinavia:
where ontology was intact:
knowledge of good and evil was ontological(y)
intact:
where these people knew instinctively:
they weren't confused Sodoms and Gomorrahs...
we don't need the Arabs and the Hebrews
to tell us that pig is bad but their morality
is intact by metaphor alone...
**** them!
if the Jews think that by resurrecting Israel
they can flood Europe with their cousins
they can have this day...
this day...
                             which might feel like a hundred years
but i have no respect for people
who **** on toilet seats: the ******* audacity:
these, ***** ******* rag bags
***** skin not white piglet not glistening mahogany
chocolate of fatty fruits of Kenyan nights
by the Indian sea...
this fading hue of diarrhea semi-brown toilet paper
complexion...
yes: not Japanese porcelain...
i'll be a racist homophobic:
PTSD victim-hood mentality scruple...

           **** on the toilet sea and who wouldn't be?!
am i to sit on that?!
dig a hole in the ground and let those
***** ******* just squat and **** and ****
simultaneously like pigeons!
is anyone going to laugh about this
testament to the concerns for hygiene?!
i'm so ******* hygienic that i was allowed
to have unprotected *** with prostitutes
and ha ha
having unprotected *** with prostitutes
i didn't catch a single batch of chlamydia!
or anything...

i don't even know where these people are from:
not a word of English on these shores
is like burning Shakespeare or Dickens
and the intelligent ones
will probably call this a passing...
              but not like this: these people would
have no abode in either Poland or Russia:
since, at least in Poland:
the very fabric of existence: language:
was once undermined and even suppressed
by injection of German and Russia...
but fair enough...
the 3 partitions of Poland
and the one implosion of the British Empire...
if that's how empires implode:
then i adore the French implosion more at least
no chance of a ninja habit of:
girl...                pretty is pretty but such masked
a culture clash
how about i don a balaclava?
but such a waste of a day writing during the day...
oh i think the *** is such a distraction:
i think i was only the tool
to ensure
that her mother left and she could have
the home to herself on beautiful Kauai...
i was never going to get any involvement in raising
Reyla...
it was a lovely daydream:
just like at the beginning of the shift
i was talking about:
well... if i were in power:
i would stretch the law enforcement even further:
i would ban the selling of alcohol at all football events...
it wouldn't just be:
no drinking of alcohol in view of the pitch...
no selling of alcohol at any football event...
rugby yes cricket yes
but not football:
if, it is, such, a... ******* "beautiful" game...
why even think you can appreciate it with alcohol
can't see it like chess
like a mind and intellectual excavation project
away from the everyday soap opera of being
married to a woman?
doubly numb mind ****?!
seriously... so drinking alcohol while going to see it
live is... carousel and instead of 22 ballerinas
and 3 cosmonauts in black
you have double vision and 44 button holes to
later simply pretend to sing about?
Arsenal has origins in Woolwich:
it's not north London and there's no Tottenham Hotspur
competition...
Millwall is also south London and founded
by Scottish dockers...
i don't understand why everyone hates Millwall:
i ******* hate the West Ham welders and
other iron workers...
or maybe i just love the Scots more than
these Saxon-Gaelic pillagers...
because once Rome retreated from these isles...
          Rome never even bothered the people of the Vistula:
even though they knew about us:
they didn't bother to spread their message
that far:
            maybe we were a wholesome people
and not like the tribes of what would become Germany...
i'm only writing this because i think
that i've forgotten something...
apple... bread and wine...
shot of ***** and a flick of ash from a cigarette...
no tree no serpent just the womb
and the fetus...
                 Olympic way at WEmbley
and the crowd leaving and me like the ***** to be born
rushing through the crowd...
Barker Street: my favorite underground station,
Bakerloo: my favorite line:
i rarely use it: but they kept it vintage...
i don't know how long they will keep the Bakerloo vintage...
they kept the District Line vintage for a while:
but then they replaced the AEC routemasters...
next thing to go are the... 1972 STOCK:
i don't know how long this line will work...
Taylor: your love of London is probably just my London
and i want to leave but i don't
and i would leave but i'm only 38, 39... em...
can't remember: not 40... not 40...
and what... ******* to an island in the Pacific
with a population of 60,000...
your concerts drew in 94,000 each night
and it's not that i would ever talk to every soul:
point being...
*** is a short leverage: like lies...
*** is the best lie...
*** is a lie while the truth is the child:
and clearly: there's no talking point
concerning the child:
since the child is so incubated and would later
become what?
the warning i've been hearing?
oh: i'm not familiar to her, yet:
then one touch and prison
because a lost temper and now: voyeurism...
if you work under c.c.t.v. scrutiny you can
hardly relax privately:
but i've experienced *** being utilized against me
and i don't like being manipulated like that...
so the expectancy that with enough time:
what is this muddle:
have i lived enough to now suddenly
retire on that beautiful isle and
forget the world but at the same time
the world doesn't require remembering it:
not by me not by anyone: just doesn't...
but i did mention it...
no alcohol at football games in England...
none... forbidden...
it's sport... no? so why would you go to a sports
event and pretend to enjoy it
then later return home and play video games?!
oh i drink: i drink to elevate
the experience of music and to fall asleep
and to relax...
alcohol just doesn't agree with these football fans...
the alcohol disagrees with them:
you need to find something that aligns
with you...
you can abuse it: but to the good intent...
intellectual explorations...
but such pacifying hostility simply because you
want to escape the opposite ***...
jeez...
                  it did help that i frequented
a brothel and once a strip bar in Athens...
all these healthy children (i am implying
14 year old almost fully formed females,
in Medieval times the kings would have had their
way)... but that's what i thought:
**** *** but a face of a child:
oh...            hmm...                  what a healthy child.