as rereading of poetry (my own) goes:
it would read:
well... at least his father would be French
and the Lion would return
to Rome from the island where he would
leave a chimera to play with the unicorn
upon the question of the seriousness
of lineage
and i gather: my own life has taken
a funny escapade of demands and focus
because i should have been driving
before i have been walking in this modern-ity...
but before the sacrifice of
for now this man belong to the world:
he is not a man of the world:
he is a man who belong to the world
i was whispering the name like a football
chant: ole! ole! ole!
maybe when i die there will be a Pope
from Africa but before that stage is set
Islam needs to learn a few lessons in history
and history hasn't been kind to Islam:
initially yes, perhaps yes...
but history hasn't been kind to Islam
but at least the remains of the dinosaurs
in blood and all those little Towers of Babylon
in Dubai that all the Pakistanis are talking
about when they talk about
those who erected them in modern slavery
via Bangladesh for a few of us to not break
a sweat...
although this is not reminiscent of what it could
be
that i must feel so tiny
i did say! i did say! i hate this part where i "think"
i'm right... i did say: a Frenchman or an Irishman!
and down below
from above on the Papal Seal:
the Fleur de Lys!
and i just like dancing a dance before time
before anything truly happens...
and it seems i still wonder how to take Chriatianity
seriously i still think about
militant christianity i started to think of the empires
of faith and indeed the nation-state has dwindled
but not in the way the classical anglophone world
knows it as strictly individualistic
monkey trained capital and the freedom march
of miserable women...
i think... oh to hell with it... i'm going to drink
to the pope's health!
i could never succumb to the North American
version with those bogus preachers
i suspect the one billion strong army
of Catholic souls will grow more so now that
like Judaism was opened to the Gentiles of Europe
now Catholicism will be open and become
inheritance tax on the juke of the father
and the miasma and mothers of virginity...
i might suspect a revival of Catholicism in America
if England is going to continue to presevre
that **** way of going about capitalism
and the crushing of the individual under multiculturalism
one way: but as long as the minorities get to
their conclave and their ghettos...
       i like being intuitively aligned to the times...
and now i distance myself from my writing
as i have no ***** Roman jokes
i'm not even going to gloat...
                      because i'm already killing with a kiss
the vampire of learning the theory test for my
driving test
and i'm passing all the time and i still need
to do those 30 hours within the confines of
the driving school and pass the internal test
and then i have to leave to do Wimbledon
and some concerts in the summer
and will have to return for like a week and do
the county, external exam...
                    so if the Indians are at it with the Pakistanis
then it's a reminder: a new bishop of Rome was
elected
or just prior
because i then think of orthodox Christianity
and that's so obscure after the intervention
of Islam
at least western Christianity had an idea and blossomed
while who is to say anything spectacular
about orthodox Christianity in its origins
in Syria and Greece and Ethiopia...
at bit like those cognitive tourists pseudo-poets
from America in the Beatnik brigade being humbled
by oriental thinking like all-is-nothing
like then go to the Chinese market
and sell dog and cluck and spark a conversation
about t.n.t. and Batman and HIVCORONA...
no fool you but at least i adhere to the instrument
that dictates to me...
before the altar of the name and the dates
the confines of the grave
the open air... in the necropolis...
it's not the Cathedral of St. Peter
but my little brick corner of the coliseum of mortality
and the grave is where i pity my little thoughts
and i pity my little thoughts
because that's where i trap my ego
my ineffectual ego in all its egoness or egoism
and i know that the voice in my mind
is mostly trapped Satan
and i don't mean a Satan of grandiosity Miltonian
my own personal ineffectual vegetable state
sATAN... the Atman or somewhere in between...
but from one shadow to another shadow
a key was passed
and i hope the world didn't think that
this institution would bend the knee
and simply give into the people and say:
a BLACK POPE! since an Latino pope just died...
i just hoped there would be true learning
in judgement
and sometimes if you can witness an Electoral...
it's better than living in a Democracy...
yes... like what used to happen in
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth:
whereby only the nobles were given rights
to elect a new king of Poland and
the king was elected from the lesser kings in waiting
of other nations of Europe...
well... so much for living in a Democracy...
i much prefer living in the crab-bucket of
the secular pride and agony of the current spoof
and **** mustard licking non-budge:
if there's that Hill of Rome with the Shining Light
and that process is a Tier above Democracy...
i will sooner believe in that Process...
whereby the Informed Elect are given
EARNED rights to vote...
than giving anyone the ******* trickery of:
where no hand washes another hand
instead probably resorts to ******* or choking
another or sign-language
and the grey matter of politics without the clarity
of 20th century adventurers of the desports
like ****** like Mao like Stalin:
those SPEZZIALS... of the 20th century:
dwarfing the authority of Popes and obviously
the Kings are extinct... are going to be:
the last reserve for some bricks and mortar relegated
to England
while Whitechapel Whittle Ingsh'shleen land is
and is the stink of New Bombay...
because you might think because it's written in English
it's not half rotting Irish and i want to
go away...
but at least in that sort of Democracy i believe
the process... the pomp and measure and circumstance
i believe in the Democracy that Elected
the Pope...
i don't believe in the Democracy of the People
that Elects the President...
because effectually that's an Election of an Election
and when i tried to vote in England
i realized i couldn't because there was too much
blockage
and i gave up
also realizing that i wouldn't be voting
for the Prime Minister but my local Member of Parliament...
so England the the Vatican aligned
although the Vatican makes more sense
than England
England is **** ENGLAND is ****
i don't care what it believes by now it's delusional...
i believe in a Democracy of the Elect...
i don't believe in a Democracy
as some bogus "god" given or "ontological" ripe
way to prescribe how people organize themselves...
i don't believe in this American Democracy and
its subsequent clamor and itches...
i believe in a Democracy of the Elected
elected through duty and patience and perseverance
but to give a vote out just like that...
who could possibly believe in the western
notion of democracy
when that sort of democracy of anyone for anyone
i believe in strict rules i believe
in being informed...
kick a rock down the road and call it a disgruntled
mountain...
like the media that parasite of democracy
that is this beast...
thankfully the Lion has returned to Rome
from the marriage to a Unicorn in England
and i'll maybe i'll whoever will leave
a fake Lion a Chimera still wedded to that Unicorn
and perhaps the Lion will return to Rome
and what a great opening with Ave Maria and talk
of peace with a smile
because i too wonder what the stresses of
that position will bring but then you wonder
how resolute and Park-Ming-Son
   Jean-Pauli-zhe-Sek-Und woz...
                                and wow... these elections happen
with such spectacular precision children weep
and i'm lost in believing the western world
or any alternative is giving me enough
care to worry about the world to preserve itself...
i'm content:
i did whisper the name... leo... leo.... leo...
ah but with hindsight and knowing how the internet
works: charlatan! you want to be right!
not really...         i did predict a Frenchman of the throne
of st. Peter...
double whammy he also has H'American credentials!
ha! and there's me also applying for a Green Card
to ******* to Kauai... so... m'eh m'eh... BLAH!

i do wonder under how many years\the Greeks
spent under Islam
the Islam of the Turks an Asian variation
a Euroasian vision
go pleae give Australia give us a hug
because of AC/DC and Silverchair
and the BBQ "keyboard"

there i was thinking it would be a great
cover to drink
a little bit a little bit a little bit too much
in grandma's house
before the Black MAdonna MY Lady
peace before the Swedes took over
thje party....

Brastislau
Brelau
     Bronis'aw Brodorski
i ten ch'op ten obok:
ja ja! schnell schnell!
te oba! te dvaj!
daj daj daj~!

just enough poison with enough
touch
because i read Olson and Welles
and Pound:
this petty worth of imagery
and the lady from the hills...
to night adventure
into hopes of dreams
in the culprit with the huddling pigeons...
a return to 6am sunshine and walks
rather than sleeping in...

i like watching a football match
on the balcony
because the air is tight
and cold
and i'm living a plagiarism of Knausgaard's
life i am learning to drive
a car and my birthday is coming up
and i'm actually getting **** done
like talking to my fairy godmother
i don't think she knows
my life in Poland
she only only knows my life in England
and in English
she doesn't know that i live
a double life a double lie therefore
the truth
i think of god when i'm alone
and watching a football match
i was going to save that joint
for when i was planning to graduate
with a driving license i was going
to exchange on the black market
of the banana boat men
i was going to lead the catholic revival of England
i would make it my mission to convert
England back to Catholicism
and i would be there
like an Islam
in my Catholicism
i would have the Empires of the Incas
the Aztec
the Spanish Indians
not the English Indians
that Chimera Beast of the British Empire
it would be an Emblem
of a Unicorn and a Chimera:
not a Lion
and there i would put my green cross
on a flag of yellow
i admired the flags of imaginary countries
like the white and black PRussians
i would think about history
without looking at history books
i would be the only stoner in the village
the village Shaman
and this is res cogitans
going to bed with res cogitans
and therefore inflating geating ready
to put on dream armour and

become the Id...
66:30
PSG 1 : ARS 0
agg 2 - 0
and the t.v. is super down low
and grandma i'm only passing
through this couldron of witchy spells
i predicted an Irishman or a Frenchman
to be the next pope
i'm also covering the Election of the Pope
like i am youir fight against Islam
if there is Islam in England
then there is also Catholicism in England
and we are over a BILLION strong
let me flex my muscles
at the University of Warsaw

68:10 a missed pentalty by PSG
not a Spanish
not Americas
let Christianity return to Europe
where it was defended
please let it return to mediate
the English with the Norsemen and translate
to the Low Germans...
that became English
the SWABS and CWIK... some picture
i forgot to take when
walking thinking i'd memorising it
but there's also the Election of the Polish President
and i think i'm kinda patrtiotic in a way
i think the Pope died
when i came back to Poland
or no: that would be nice
but like a Catholic rat i scuttled back
and the media can be protestant
and Anglophile or whatever
the Universal B;lah blah
i'm the SHAMAN of the residence so many drunks
walked through these walls i sometimes
do wonder how my grandmother
streuggled through it
and she says it like a nun swearing
but today i was making custard
with my wife and daughter over the phone...

72:12

PSG 2 - ARsenral 0

lost on agg

****! i missed a gole! **** ****! too busy
thinking about god and nothing
and id est
cf.
est id ego?

            loot the womb come out empty
no brothers
no sisters
thinks his grandmother is a serial killer
or maybe High Priest
like the Mother in Dune
some temporal shift wavey lines
i mean a French Pope
a Pope **** Pope French
i've been biting my nails and
Ądam EwĘ
  
   tym kolem zamnkne i jak niby zapomne
to powiem z kresk'

   tam tak zastomne
zapowiem
pan zastepow
pan kazdy swej mowy
i tym diarkytyka
pan nad polaka: 'yd
no znaczy: 'yd:               Er                     Zet...


77:12
PSG 2 - Arsenal 1

     Ż i tak od litery do litery a' do Sokratesa:
i tak jakim tam tam
innym to Grek
i nie inny Pan s'owem
to te pierw szkice
a nie 'kice///

             tak bzu bzu bzu
i ten 'yd           i Egipt
i gYpt

i do remember quiet vividly that when i was in Russia
i was never allowed to turn on
the television to be fed state propaganda:
no chicken no cluck no breadcrumbs from the Tsar's
leftover table...
now... i find myself unable to consecrate thinking
with not thinking:
there's this neo-Cartesian impasse
when it comes to juggling
the trinity of the things that:
think, extend and are nothing...
              i like my calm neo-Cartesian model:
some assurance from mathematics and its
strict abidance to geometry... blah blah...
to the squint and octopus eyed ones nothing
more than a lazily attached Q to an A...
that whole Hebrew borrowed immigrant schtick
that seems exhausted in H'America...
like Hyat! Attention! Seigl! Achtung! Achtung!
words like custardo-******* pie-oh! yong-tung!
mmmiasma mmmiasma
the reality of the stiletto and the surrealism
of the elephant...
    how Debussy is someone who gave
piano a rhythm and melody
while there is no rhythm or melody in Chopin:
not shoe shoe my red wrinkling toe makes
gestures for imitating mouth
i said: CHOP a PIN
i didn't SHOE or otherwise...
i didn't say LIST i said LISHT...
why must it be so hard, otherwise: this otherwise
being now
just enough bread and ***** to
give enough creases to the bedsheets
of the demons wearing them
and my how tiny New York (Manhattan alone)
seems
i didn't see much of the "other" areas...
but in this little town where i currently
reside who knows how big anything is
or how anything small:
but a crusty bun with pumpkin seeds
and enough butter
and if my wife keeps reminding me that
she's 18 years older i
just don't know how that will make sense
but for all her ordained prowess to feel
so empowered
she's throwing at me these stones from the Vatican
and Mecca
and i'm not the one to be
a lunatic gesticulating praises in the middle
of the day when other sensible people
are in the marketplace selling vegetables
and spewing Roman squat...
but this Cartesian model... to fathom egoism
and egoism's retraction within the confines
of the RES VANUS was
always going to be missing when presented with
the grand God and Cogito
or... otherwise...
from the res cogitans and the res extensa
because even my sensible well adept godmother:
doctor etc. etc. might ask a question
while i was falling asleep:
because i wasn't
for her to scribble some forms
and that whole scenario played out
so broken: like a scrutiny of a paraphrase:
but so alone within the demands of glue and eyes
before the television
i fall asleep
to a searching screech and by due...
i'm not here to relax i'm here to learn to drive
an elephant after being given no allowance
to drive a bicycle after already walking...
after being allowed to pay the fair for a bus...
so... talk to monkey explore the parrot's circus act
but even modern pop is so modern i
tend to opt out than to pop us
as receiving the congested messages
of scheme...

because i listen to music so infrequently, now - these days,
if i am attempting to scribble something or, other,
it takes great and at the same time so diligence
as to what i will choose to feed my hearing...
to preserve the purpose
or to at least keep a sense of sanity: and face:
i opt for something classical
and within that: i can crawl into the ***** of prose
and and... a poetic... journalistic cascade of
free-form: whereby i am not dictated by obligations
of whatever it is that is already spared
by dictates of ink and paper:
a break into prison planet: as Copernicus-Nostradamus
could have said about the advent of the internet:
by no nobility by the same "gentry":
it's only "if" and "now" that i have a "wife"
and by "wife" i implore the distinction between
obligation and the freefall before death
this insinuated demand of her's to spare her
the gruel and details and some of being left
stranded on a desert island...
some music soothing... almost all that is necessary
and not like genuflecting: some parody of faith
she tries to translate into telepathy...
i roll another cigarette in secret and i'm
alone on purpose:
in that solipsistic limbo of ghosts who have just
been born into a cabaret of voyeurism
that nothing like a stand-up comedian in
the English-speaking-world can match...
such a flicker of dust or ambiance
of semblance with the moon...
Satie's Gnossiennes are not the competition
between Liszt and Chopin and
hey **! hey presto! the demand for maestro and
the garden gnomes to sing in rhapsody...
i can't pick up the Satanic Verses and think
they are worth the cut of mustard
when that's the mustard eaten after
a dinner by the dollop and spoonful to appease more
appetite...
i think i will make my bed
and call it nighty-night before 10pm comes...
and i will know as much of me as i know as much
of me now
because even if i were to read a poem
ugly beautiful meaningful or elsewhere
my wife would still think me funnier than funny
with my Catholic gesticulation:
but i of no faith still go to the necropolis and light
a candle a at the grave of my family long gone
not out of some diligence:
without question... without ask...
i do so because in that instance i am not
reprimanded for lack or loss of belief:
i just find a mirror and myself in it
and i don't ask...
why... on earth in hell or heaven above
ask such a pointless question that serves
an answer for a sieve without the curios movement
of water...
as such... Darwinism and ontology:
and since when man... categorized as animal
behold... this mammal of equal parring with ape
and lion...
decided to question his ontology further
and became accustomed to the ontology
of ants and of social order?
when will we have ourselves for ourselves
and leave the ants to the ants for the sake of ants
but instead
these ontological chimeras of apes dressed in
exoskeletons and elsewhere:
so i was stressed so this theorizing the testing of
my aptitude on the road worth of:
i hope the worth of a tank and not being a pedestrian
of a cyclist involves so much ******* nuances
but that's not the point:
Satie is playing and i'm typing
but i can see my wife laughing:
oh ha ha! why go to the necropolis and light
a candle at a grave...
so... erm... so?       so i can have a moment
with my own mortal self?
i recently lit a candle at the gravestone of my
father's grandparents
of whom i have no memory of...
so i rolled a cigarette and drank 200ml of *****
like a typical Gypsy...
and that's in Poland so a place that used to be
a haven for gypsies and Jews before the advent
of the Hippies in Western Europe and America...
yet even tonight...
i think i need more Debussy than Satie...
i went on my night round and when grandma
asked i bought some ice-cream and some
pork meat: whole cut! whole cut she said...
well... i looked at the prices...
if i were to buy prepped mince pork rather than
own a mincer and bought a whole piece whole:
i'd be buying 3x the price...
obviously i bought some *****...
because memories started flooding in
and i had a headache and i thought white magic medicine
of the paracetamol wasn't enough...
at least alcohol helps you to relax
when you are stressed...
given enough fresh air and the space between other
people in a KURVIDOWEK like the town
i currently occupy:
it's both headache medicine and a sedative...
and if you quest for not turning on the television
after a certain hour:
you almost get a sense of how Norwegian literary hermits
live with all their Noble prizes and intuitions...

the breaking into the enso...
that the Cartesian model missed...
that there is the res cogitans
and that subsequently there's the res extensa...
sure...
but where does egoism and solipsism
the inflation conjure itself like a Kantian res per se
arise from?
surely from the res vanus: the empty thing...
countless times i could: COULD have been
told by jubilant "Christians" that
Catholicism is an understood plague
equivalent to that of Ishmael:
but by now it's all economics and the cheapest
labor
and why western women feel disinclined to
promulgate the species
because our curiosity has been satiated
and it only takes the fringes to get some hair
and some comb over... politico juice...
but that's not enough:
drop a centipede into a glass reservoir of
crawling stampedes of cockroaches
and... some ontological revelation?
but as man or monkey and why
would a monkey think itself not a monkey
while man constantly thinks himself not a man
but somehow all the other proponents of bio-mechanization?
like me lighting a candle before a grave is
somehow a translucent travesty for the Christian
belief of: by the word said by the deed exacted...
Islam doesn't bother me...
it doesn't even fascinate me...
it's just some miraculous *****-juice of verbiage
that learned akin to AI to build brick-on-brick...
nothing more...
the quest for late 19th century Paris
being established
as was:
perhaps reminiscent of the Medieval period
time of Islam were homosexuality was rife
because... the harems were without ******-Toys...
perhaps...
why should i care: is that pride talking
or my ambivalence toward nothing?
after all... if my egoism is to be critised:
by the extended thing i implore my surroundings to
give me vector:
but without an external thing:
my res cogitans structure becomes schizoid:
lucky me for also being bilingual!
but imagine me not being so fortunate!
imagine me when in the pit of the res vanus
with a res cogitans unable to escape!
because without a genuine world
and a genuine identity that is what happens
to these poor unsold lots of man
and their tribulations...

a war is happening
and
there's being
and war is a happening
and an inclusion
and ex-
  this little London
this my May by month
in Poland
and there are people
in my life i love

i loved
but now
Danka
Alex
Miroslav
Eve
Helen
Edie
REyla
REyla
Reyla thank
you thank me less
forget you
but i can't leave you alone
idiot
when in includced....
SPELL SPELL SPEEL
my my
i think i said
i'm the shoe missing
male...
for a my my
precious
nmy preciouys
what's that... my imnploded ***
manipulatr
my fairy tale
godmother
i think of a ******* driving license
and she things of a carriage
of a pumpkin and a glass slipper!
for ****'s sake!

not pop
universal
concept
1 + vq1 = 2>
1 + 1 = 3....

i "think:"
****
project
maybe little
me too
christ--******
and jesus-aloph
no o no o no no o no
*******
let's go ***
but the fucjk am
i to tow Seattle?!

she reads my ppetry... great....
now she solving my gpal
wearing goldpoasts
in the next weekend in the priestly
the moon the tide
the sun and the bask
dealing with tge qydratuc qyoeuebt
spelling
see coloud
proper...
\  
    
            see the prp
colour uzzle in hummiung
based first degree\

           a cvzt
a czt czy ja nie pierw
i po tym Polski
i po tym Zya
af pytam
i af af af
te puara: teh pjoral=
tym koty gna(s)

kto o sen pyt i grot!
PYT i GROT
[plski....}