and so apprehensive i was
hitting the nail
and nothing
a sleepless pit of sorrows
that in silence
and then with some music
i made an adventure
into high
and kite
and the sky O sworn love
of the eye peering into
itself

    all chores of the household done
and now the occupant
drinking coffee and talking
to a wife

O father O father
where am i to be so disengaged from
here
from now
how i caved in
to all this universe
yet still the claustrophobia
of the ego thinking unattended
seemingly automated
how i sometimes forget
the thinker
and simply am
how i wrestled with thinking
that i then
and then now
realised
how to simply allow the thinking
happen without
the thinker
how i grated
those fresh beetroots
having put on surgical gloves
to not have my hands stained
and diced the red onions
and grated the carrots
and the radishes
to then have finely cut the red cabbage
and yes
oyster sauce
with mayonnaise
perhaps i'd like to think
of the fondness of the Vietnamese
cuisine and fish sauce
otherwise in Spain canned
anchovies...

that ******* wasn't real, was it?
i'm trying to think
undermine the dimension
of jerking off on the toilet
after taking a simultaneous
**** and ****
then jumping into the shower
to baptize myself
was that real
or would it have been
otherwise me in the night
crawling into the brothel
for some prostate genius
gymnastics
of not being exclusive
sow the sharing of what is
women i can truly
ponder what is woman
and in woman a man
i can ponder this cascading
impulsiveness
the works of the house completed
now a second sighting of god
and all the words
and numbers
and how far apart this grimacing glee
bliss
                    blitz

well sure as **** at least i don't have
to get off
as long as she gets off
and i'm steering clear of the brothel
then at least that's
£130 for a canoe
and me and Reyla on the rivers
of Kauai paddling
while also picking flowers
for mother and Edie...
memories of cleaning a toilet
but nothing demeaning
just i crave using the throne
to dethrone
the throne of thrones
in that it is bowel, water,
Heraclitus and proverb.

bouncing off the walls a slight tidbit
and shandy
because i just love those advertisement
interruptions
when i'm in the mood to write
and i set my alarm for 9am
or rather 8:50
and i did wake up but chose
to remain in a bedded position
because that wasn't just a dream
those were two days in two lives in one
a shared experience
and just thinking about love & suicide
and paddling from the north side of the island
to the south side of the island
of Kauai
because i was having a midlife crisis
whatever that means
a midlife crisis is a bit like global warming
a massive farce a diabolical bollocking
sentiment
that's the 3rd time i had *******
and i sexed her up good
so that she was ******* herself
while i was playing tweezers and pliers
with a limp oyster **** hey Jeronimo
hey Jericho
a city and a people
a bit like Pompeii
all in its glory that joke of lawyers
and attorneys
of: if you want to make god laugh:
tell him your plans
and he will say: islam
and by the god willing decree
you pitiable man
you humble man
you enviable man
i am the jealous god
speaking unto the enviable man
and that is as far as i dare to say
my presence
not otherwise
otherwise in birds and tectonic
stomachs of a rumbling
like water boiling
oh this oblivion of the dark grey
hot day of the birth of Gemini
and Samir and i cannot part
and i have to come to terms with
the burdens of love
and if i'm to be having
******* with Hawaii
then i need the eyes from behind
that Niqqab to be looking at me
fiddling their rings of marriage
and proposal
and i need to know
why i'm to make alternative conjunctions
and prepositions
of exclaiming !!! !!!              !!!     !!!
the problem with pronouns
conjunctions
and puncture marks
like abruptness of the dot and the Q: ?: question
and the colon
and semi-
what a sentence preserved:
mummified even
i swear to god
i am god
in my solitude
without a loneliness
and today's menu looks pretty already
i have a cabbage
with baggage
a carrot without a stick
a donkey
a jockey
an Armageddon
and if Nietzsche thought himself
a ******
then i think myself a Teuton
it's as if i'm not something organic
that history makes me inorganic
that i have a history
and a people and a binding will
of the collective unconscious
and that i can't motivate myself enough
other than myself
in my worst habits

i'm spinning i'm spinning
i'm spinning
i'm out of control but i'm also in control
i chose to write but
there are also household chores
but i didn't smoke all of it
it's all uphill from hereonin
here-on-in
up up up
up
up
up up up up
all the way up
there's no point in my slowing down
i need the air the breath
the soul if
if i'm going to gamble with
this love magnet
a Taurus and a Gemini
if you should so speak
because i told her a joke
i was so tired
and i thought about going to the brothel
but i didn't
so stupid
i mean: did you even bring your
"other" ring:
yes that **** ring
i don't mean what gets the girls
staring
the younger ones
when you come all stainless steel
and wood on finger
a ring
a ring on a finger
a sun in  the sky of day
and a moon in the sky of night

a tide of ocean
a river
my feet walking
a tide of ocean
a river
a tide of a river
my feet chasing feet
my eyes blinking

my eyes blinking
me interaction with the former
Putins
the Deutsche....

one gigantic hard-on for a word
that's impeding...
thumping me Mongolian
Saudakur style
grunt grunt grunt gurgle
hunger
one meal a day Bruce Springsteen
style...

Geheimnis - secret
Civic - bürgerlich
polizei -

     polity and the philosopher
polity and the philosopher

ah... perfect rearrangement
just did the duty of emptying those two
decorative bark sacks in the garden
under the Patagonia
and Pagoda
and Nebraska
or somewhere
clinging to far away places
but the *** so close
now i'm itching fidgeting
and itching once more
i want to scratch my brains
and i know i only have one
but there are two hemispheres
and already

the schematic semantics
of math and how numbers know numbers
and how letters don't know letters
and how there aren't syllables
in numbering Katakana
a 10 doesn't make it a binary
of vowel consonant
or consonant and vowel
but that there is vowel distinct
from consonant
and how woman is a vowel
and how man is a consonant
and this is
my microscope my telescope
into the ventures of man as soul
and oscillation away from the days'
removal from the status: just an animal...

now the throat is dry
and i'm going back into my garden
as either Adam or
Satan
and if she wants...
she can moan like a Capirote on fire
that's where Christianity
is vibrant
and echoes a love of men for men
and women are like
secrets
like the ones you keep hidden in Je-CHO-Wa
he: who hides them
(them): being women...

he who hides women from the harm
of the charm man
became endowed with
with Sisyphus and the bundle of burden
that rock
and Adam's apple
and the thinker of Rodin and his resting
clenched fist ***** face...

by 3:30 the effects should be wearing off
and i should be gearing up
to making that beetroot coleslaw
i have the red cabbage
and red onion and
the carrots
the lemons and the yogurt
and i will probably stop thinking

or think that out of all the 300+ employees
i was asked
to go to Portsmouth
on the 14th for a 7h shift at a silent
disco
but i asked about the engineering
work potential on the 7th and 8th
and how two days ago
it took me almost 3h to get home
to what then
kiss the doorknob and go back out
am i mutant robot or Mongol
just want to know
                 so maybe i can leave early
if put on gate 3
they are really sparing me when
it comes to DC3
and i always volunteer
but each time i get rejected
perhaps because i'm prized
i don't know
you can really write a philosophy of work
i mean
you can truly write about micro-managing
your psyche in a working
environment
you feel that Nietzsche went mad
because he didn't have menial tasks
before him
and Bukowski on the other hand
couldn't materialize on the gems
of thought when performing menial tasks...
and Heidegger is found
somewhere in between...

i smoked i drank a little
but i already went out to the shop
to get more whiskey
and a baguette
and Havering Road was filled
with skipping and tictactoe
and a girl
and she was called Reyla
and please don't make me speak
my stomach's soul

Mongol:

дуу хоолой
duu hooloj!

сүнс бурхан

           strange seeing Mongolian
in script: NOT
in Turkic -
but Slavic...
Greco-Slavic

those sneaky ******* from the ancient
world those
Greeks
first they hijacked the Hebrews
and rebuilt the Roman Empire -
Troy -
since the origins of
the myth of Rome is that of defeated
Phoenix of Troy

now they hijacked
the Greek lettering themselves
and applied their genius
to the Slavic people
who competed with the Germans
and at the pinnacle
cheap-*****
Soviet metal competed with
staging a filming of the moon
landing
no sorry no R.E.M. song
like U.F.O.

             disputed by all costs
"win" the "race"...
      
are we all so dumb deaf and bereaving
a fate of debt that
somehow
to no greater advantage
there's an Aladdin with a lamb
and a camel shaped lamp
and there's the rich man
and the rich man gets murdered
is depressed
O         o       O      what then Oo
that's like also oOo
that's the trinity of earth moon and star
and some vague Postman Pat
to Lucifer: you forgot my black & white cat
so rhyme
is echo is rhyme
is not thyme
is time
and timing
and space and spacing
and so dislocated verbiage
much Morse: or worse than a finger
no longer pointing to somewhere called
elsewhere
like death is a rattling toy
and i have only sand dunes in my vibrancy
of contested spirit...

to the far burrows of the former
kin -
           in kind by way of summary
a "buying" of leverage
of time contested
as lost to: a commute...

                  perhaps the ordeal has not yet
begun;

the darkness of the hour
the minute
and the day
now the second
and the universe has come

i have unplugged my 3rd pair
of eyes
from my constipation
and now as my mind
relaxes
i see her and i

don't see her
and i'm not going to advantage
myself a card of James
Joyce
and Finnegans Wake
and the daughter's premature
dementia
perhaps the ill fates
of those who begin to write
and write with meaning
rather than journalistic
mumbo jumbo
let's ***** a statue
of a writer like
Sienkiewicz at the end
of that long straight street
of Kielce

siala baba mak
nie wiedziala jak
chlop powiedziel
a reszte to bylo tak...

missing like
i was missing at Wembley
yesterday
and through most of today

i'm living an organic life
i overheard
the news i wanted to hear
on the radio today...
at 4pm
just as about the serpents
were uncoiling from
the suntans... freckled ginger
nightmares...

only 56 arrested...
plenty of IC3 Black Hitlers
making fun of Asians
in turbans
notably the Sikhs
it's like you
invited one sort in
and another sort appear
and...

i wouldn't be drinking
but let's face it...
the literary genius of Bukowski
as a... as a... ******* postman
and the genius of me
well... perhaps a Miroslav Holub
the benchmark of writing and
science
but then there's too much Greek
referential in it...

MONEY IS LOGIC
i said those words with love in love
and when i tell her
this isn't going to work
life became gravity
and my heart became hardened
she still doesn't believe me
like now
i'm matching her pound for pound
and i'm shrinking to the pride
of a Dwarf living among
Men and Elves
but i'm becoming a cunning fox of a peddle
no stool... a hobbit
a sort of Irishman
of Europe
naive but still persuasively accurate
in my reading of reality:
now becoming abstract
now not so abstract
now becoming abstract
now not so...

      and this life and breadth of losing breath
on speaking come and hount
me
imagine someone: also writing
while doing their "supposed"
wage labor... enslavement
well what is to allow differentiation
between en masse dictatorial of
a tiny minority to another tiny minority
to another one
form Poutin through to Twump
and to no who in Damascus

because looking into those eyes
of CP (close protection)
former Deutsche police officers
those chauffeurs
of the "stars"
where one looked like Roberto Martínez
so i asked: is... is there anyone important
making arguments here
for a discounted entry, i.e. for free?

well i was mapping and mapping
my supposed schizoid hemispheres
onto the schematics
and drawings...
i was allocated the supposedly
deafening of defeat placement
at the Spanish Steps where the infamous
Wembley breach happened back
in 2020...
but that was on a national level
with a national interest in bread
some circus
perhaps football
but who can tell given that most football
fans are not opera fans
and i could indulge drinking heavily
before going to the opera
but going to a football match
i don't understand why or how
a sport is to be enjoyed intoxicated
rather than sober...
drink too much and instead
of 22 wankers with 20 running
and... one shift
i was left mesmerized just watching
the officials
notably the sideline priests

MONEY IS LOGIC
and sometimes i shift from watching a game
to watching the crowd
to watching the grass
to watching the floodlights
to watching the sideline referees
and that's that
and i'm no more happy than discontent
than less happy than discontent
and i ponder Hemmingway's simplification
and then i just allow things
to flow
without haiku interruptions

and i was so gearing up to being on the Dortmund
side for the event
i was so shy in jokingly choking
on spewing out, in a shout

words much ascribed to the fetish of:

ACHTUNG! ACHTUNG!
ARBEIT MACHT FREI!
ARBEIT MACHT FREI!
ABLENKUNG MACHT ZIEGELNAGEL...

ZIEGELNAGEL:
******* doft dorft ooze SCHTOOPI'D!
some "things" need reworking
and revision

i much preferred the Deutsche fan demure
and i'm Catholic
as ******
and the French are Catholic
and the Spanish are Catholic
and so much ethnocentric scribblies
in America from Hin Land
and Cha -
   i mean: what's a ****** to do
if not swerve: entertain...
ride rollerblades round and round
on a roundabout: backwards
listening to Mario and Luigi's cassette
seriously dude, seriously GANDU...
gandu gandu...
no joke

that's me Wallace and Gromit
i call Warren
and Ahmed Ahmed and Uzeer the ****-
-stani
joking about putting wooden knives
in each other's pockets
to have to peer at and through 90K people
congregating to have
run

so there was this Muhammad Muhammad
who felt ill and decided to go home...
i stood there among charging police
horses and barking police dogs
while about 300 people ran across the cement
while i was holding a freebie
worth circa £1000...

steward accreditation and a high viz jackets
and you think i was stopped?
you think i was stopped?
i'm experiencing a hyper reverse engineering
of voyeurism
on my skin
like this skin has become leather...

beside from Hamza and Sikander
i was not exactly given a hot take on staff
and it turns out as
the cordon was put in place and about 30
papa echoes stood in front of
about 40+ stewards and SIAs
i was standing in front of the cordon
ensuring legitimate customers
were ushered in
while the pranksters were being
pranked
because the UEFA tickets were interactive
and required special pen UV or not
just PINK with dotted lines

well to one argument i said:
but i know you're lying
by the face you used to lie...
and the argument counter
said: but this is my face...
to which i replied:
honestly: this is my face too...
a joyful attention to detail
and to think that drinking is a good excuse
but i drink to excuse flourishing
in a heightened environment for
stress hormones to exfoliated
and drip-feed-me
this inexhaustible feeling of furor...

i drink to excuse myself
even today while i settled down
to an afternoon with father
and we talked about Martin
and that bewilderment:
but i drink a liter of whiskey
and what... beer killed him?
ten bottles that's 5 liters of beer killed
him, every day for 2 years
well by that account i ought to be
dead
and i know my head is hurting
not because of a dehydrated brain
i say the brain bleeds
and the brain sweats
but i'm constipated hence the nail
in the head

        so i made us a halloumi (grilled)
entree on a salad
of cucumber, pepper, plum cherries (tomatoes)
salad greens,
radishes... and roasted pecans and hazelnuts
with a dressing
of oyster sauce,
yogurt, chili infused olive oil
blah blah
ouzo - citrus infused soya sauce blah blah
we had a beer and we talked
and i was just wondering:
am i just tired...
no i haven't had anything to drink
but at least he understands
and will know: he's tired...

and i was tired
and blah blah blah...
well if i were to have my last days spent
in the presence of my father
cooking him dinner
having had an adventure
at Wembley
and exchange that
for ****** favors for about a year
with Edie...
conversation-wise
can she even hear me?
i wonder...
even Reyla wonders whether she's heard
i too wonder:
i don't think i am heard
i don't think Edie hears me
i talk to her and it's as if she's the one wanting
to talk talk talk talk chalk
talk talk chalk chalk talk chalk...

MONEY IS LOGIC

that's the words i sent her
when i contemplated going to visit
a brothel
last night
it became painfully stupid once
i was on the N128 on Cranbrook Rd
heading toward Romford
that i was in no mood
for ***
or for that matter paid for ***
and with no fear of a libido:
maybe if i had a ****-ring on me
i would have
but that's my and Edie's discover
but i didn't bring the right sort
of rubber with me
i had already withdrawn
         over £700 and i told her

but if i can't sleep on your lanai
like a dog

but if i can't sleep on your lanai
like a dog?!

           dogs... who cannot sweat
but excessively salivate...
well: so much for the purpose of mascara
of the camel lashes
of your young girls walking about
like miasmas of ghosts of beauty
that once was
that i almost had a dream of women
who would slice rotting onions
in half and then smear their bodies
with to imitate getting a suntan
in winter...

             yes: i am yet to undertake
the task of learning from hallucinogenic au naturale...
from fungi
from LSD papercuts on the brain...           (papper?)
it figured... all that potential, wasted,
on those happy-go-****-me hippies from the 1960s
so much potential squandered
there was no gearing up to something
rightwing
coherent,
when exploring these territories for a flavour
of what only was a timidity of an Huxley...
(payper - paper - papper - patting - pet hates
no bounce bounce in titter - tittering -
no giggle in ****** - just a word, a spelling
accuracy - get away with Saka and inking
someone darker
and we have colts with Spanish fans
returning from the match on the Metropolitan
Line-Z_

                    whoops!               )

and i did walk into my room stark naked
with all the constellations
when Reyla was sleeping in it
a 13 year old girl
and i laid by the bed
like a guard, dog
and i was rudely woken up
and told to move
because somehow nakedness outside
of the hyper-context of ***
is not simply birth
and death and all beside
the supposed thrills of taboo...

well it's not like i was starstruck either
i saw Jamie Redknapp (i didn't know
there was a silent K in that surname)
at Fulham once
but yesterday i saw him twice
or rather the first time i didn't see him
but was merely giving him directions
and what disappointed me
was rules being broken
for a familiarity contest
because a somewhat some-what-may
of having previous affiliations of
"guarding" poo-poo-puppy of a son
that Quadrant that "frenchie"
oh jeez...

          well i too performed a Hajj
to the innermost residing place
of the visage and i too
found Jesus to be misguiding
with that affair of long hair and bearded
that look is so...
so...
so ******* outdated...
it should be made... illegal...

not that i am: drunk, or high...
i'll leave that scrutiny of "policing"
to the federalists on sleep patrol...
because i don't know why...
somehow this separation of church-
-from- -state
while this nagging insistence
on no separation of...
LANGUAGE from STATE...
it's as if we're living in a time
a wasted time
a waiting upon time no time no waiting
to begin with
a time of a LANGUAGE-STATE...

echoes of interpretation from the East
i hear rumors...
a CIVILIZATION-STATE
equivalent of Rome
Russia
China...

so what? now we're all literate
yet illiterate in coding?
not able to use chatGPT
i was having a conversation with a girl
of my dreams
face unveiled yet hair covered
like i abhor hair
like i love flies in champagne in flutes
of glass
like this doesn't really matter anyway
like i want a late Monday
while the cats keep coming
uncircumcised because
you can't circumcise a cat's phallus
but instead castrate them
why not then castrate the Semites
and call them the ****** breed of intellect
just shying from the joke
of circumcision?!

         SARDAUKAR...
and what are not the Mongol chants
in Dune?

SARDAUKAR...
and what are not the Mongol chants
in Dune?

plagiarism, cultural appropriation?
you tell me...
the Mongols came to Poland
the Mongols didn't reach England
the Mongols didn't reach England...

SARDAUKAR
i can sing like a Mongol hunger-strike
protest...
HUMUMGUNGUNGOON
SUMBOONKAKOOMAMOON

SARD­AUKAR...

with all the bowels and stomach
and no eyes and no mind
all bowels and heart
and echo
and no breath.

the 56 sardaukarii.

"<s>Both Wembley and Uefa could do with the final going smoothly. The last Uefa event here was the disastrous Euro 2020 final. The last two Champions League finals have been logistical nightmares, with that 2022 game in Paris fortunate to avoid deaths.

Both the Football Association and Uefa have taken all this in. Another outer perimeter is to be built, there are improved gates. The hope is everything goes smoothly.</s>"

                                    Miguel Delaney - the Independent

hours only hours before
the show
hours only hours
before
the show

                    there has been much planning
and as expected
poor execution
       or at least on the surface this air
of preparedness
and then none

the magic markers haven't been distributed
to ensure the tickets
are more than correct:
that they have been printed
on the right sort of paper
made by marker UV
or something...

             but also with the "case" of an Islamic
encroachment
into Europe
and how the lesser Ummah of the Islamic
world and there is no talk
of Pakistan being a third world
of the Islamic world
the people who propagate all this
scaremongering
and all this book burning
but even among Arabs a camel jockey

so i decided to embrace the changes
if my previous generations of folk
were under-appreciative of
the Judaic involvement
in: let us wander as far north
and pretend to repent
there is no repentance and not much else
but now i see how i can embrace
this shift
and this nudge
and i can finally agree:

among sayings and sayings upon
sayings
why suppose there is anything
wisdom in any of all the attempts
to steer man from path X
when his intentions were set by God
along path Y:
regardless of what man said unto man
man will still not be
dealing with:

a man's word is not worth more
than my willingness to explore
my own
and my own as that being: pitfals
failures and sizzling a sound not much
akin to sheering...

i don't think that "i" think anymore
and that makes perfect sense
for the simple pristine allocation
of words to a structure of a sentence
there can be sometimes the seeing
of a collapse of whatever might
have seen to be formerly impassable

as long as Martin is happy
with those two pools of water in his brain
where once dense
grey matter refrained from:
well to the end of my days
i scratched a vinyl
hatched a chicken
of an idea
since brain problems
are genetic in my lineage
maybe one trip to Amsterdam
to find some shrooms
to later walk into the flats
and sunshine i might:
should my mind be degenerate by then
ingest a hallucinogenic
and no longer feel a need to crave
pushing forward some agenda
it's not like i have a Quran to push
it's not like there's ambition involved

but if the intellectuals of Europe
are gladly not panicky about
the influx of the Muslim faith
not seen since the Ottoman's owned
all of the Balkans and Greece...
well: if we can be accommodated
into a faith that's unlike communism
and given that communism was
a Slavic endeavor and it failed
because of circumstances
that pitted the Germanic peoples of the continent
with their far fetched neighbors
neighbors no more
than the frequenters of the Airport of Dubai
then i do wonder

           what ill could come from teasing
the **** of Islam
when the apocryphal archeological unearthings
concerning Christianity are
not so willingly discussed or simply
dismissed just like
the Holocaust Deniers
and the Atom Bomb Deniers
might be the same denying
like these are not crucial writings and readings
that could allow for a revival away
from Synopsis -
if only people were willing to talk
about Jesus Christ in the tongue of the apocryphal
rather than banging their:

analogy i heard once
long ago...
should a grain of sand enter a horse's head
the horse will start ramming his head
into a brick wall "thinking" that might
get the irritable grain of sand from
his head...
  
   why then O people if you dare so
or wish so to be called
are you so anxious about not reading the
Apocrypha
and instead follow blindly within the confines
of the Synopsis -
which is just that...
a gesture of being aware of a text

O
               O
                              O

which is why i am teasing an embrace
toward Islam
given such a disinterest in the Nag Hammadi
library
imagine what could come if
some apocryphal texts concerning Muhammad
were saved and later burried
before the Mongol sacking of
the Library of Baghdad

             imagine: somewhere buried in now
Iran...
it's as if God is Truly Dead...
not simply: God is Dead
but rather: God is Truly Dead...
since such disinterest or outright hostility
toward the texts of St Thomas
were not given enough traction
and if they have been given traction now
by now i'm no longer interested
i'm looking into proselyte sensibilities
embracing the Islam were drinking alcohol
is permitted
and from the texts of al-Mas'udi that
is very probable
that they drank or rather to refrain from
drinking
is purposed for the narrative of:
from Dune
on camel and on the lackluster discovery
of...
O but the time will come
and all this writing will be ash
when there is no longer oil to burn
and at first it's only in the back of
some minds
before it becomes a reality in the back
of "our" minds
and then some excuse for breeding
geniuses
or is that really what is expected
some cult of the savior
because that's actually spoken of
openly that all can live their lives
until some genius reinvents
the purposes and utilities of... water!

   whether there is an Islamic invasion
of Europe whether Europe was
Christian, threatened by Islam
last time i checked we were pagans
and Christianity was sort of forced upon us
and sure as **** my Darwinistic impulses
steer me away from this religion of
petty sacrifices where genius comes
to die...

                     i feel less threatened having
embraced the path of the TAHWIL...
and not out of spite or intimidation
or fear
but out of a need to keep the mind at rest...
since the Christian apocryphal writings
were of no interest for the people
who ought to have been most interested
a current claim of taking interest
is no real wager to make me change
my mind...
at least Islam
unlike Judaism is somewhat all embracing...

O i'm pretty sure
there will be no embracing gesture of:
welcome to the "club"
therefore if this is a conversion then it is subversive
and not really a conversion
but rather a: mind accommodating
a mind

a wandering mind accommodating a
non wandering mind...

something to settle with: focus on...
Christianity came to Europe
just like Islam comes to Europe
and there's me thinking about relocating
to Hawaii...
so... rift: catch my drift?

             when living with the fringes
of existential expression
because van Gogh's sunflowers might
offend therefore dash canned tomato soup
all over the canvas
what of the artists in Bedlam
using tips of fingers as brushstrokes
and their own feces as paint?!

                        it's seems daft but under what
Dictatorial not...
will a potential President of the United States
like thinking politics or not talking
or writing:
i have no investment
but what makes him no dictator
i didn't say ****** i said a dictator
when the other dictator is a dictator
by a subtle following
i don't even know anymore
that's why when i accustomed myself
to wriggling in the lowercase
whenever a word, usually a name of a place
a time or a person appears
in uppercase
it all feels so crass...
         so: i'm not even going to bother myself
with the cosmopolitan busy bodies
of parties and drool and 'unk of Dr Ribbit...

thankfully no paper was wasted
when writing this
nor reading this
therefore my escape from the editorial hell
of... rejected upon testing readership
interest...
not rejected out of spite
simple economics
but i'm using a medium whereby
i can allow myself the same jovial don't-care
attitude as tabloid newspapers
allow themselves each day...

it’s hot
sweat drips
whispers down
my back between shoulder blades
towards otherworldly valleys
which causes me to look down

contemplate unshaven legs
yes yes i will shave you
slice each hair off with wee blades
only to see them grow back again
which makes me contemplate
tweezers

ripping out mini irritations
should i pluck my eyes out?
would life be better blind?
to everything and every little flaw we see?
to every little scar and every visual lie?
it makes me listen to english music
watch subtitled foreign movies
with their darker ingrown endings
they seem more realistic

if i spoke with an olde french accent
would it better match my hairy demeanor?
perhaps match my inner wild?
embrace my graying
au naturale?

but hairy legs are so inelegant
and these tiny hair follicles
completely underestimated
i dont feel like it
i'm shaving my legs
because i'm hot
and want to go swimming

the old face returned to the mirror
and almost instantly the melancholy lifted
and i stood reborn
in the wine of gravity
and of vanity
and it became so simply to obviously
so simply obvious
that it had to be right
that going to the Turkish barber
is like getting a ******* from
a wife
and i'm just burning my eyes out
i mean i'm burning my eyes
i'm scratching at them
if ever she might think i'm infidelity
personified
and i will not use of "right"
since no consequence of will
to balance the right to
and the right from
i.e. the evil and the good
and the good and evil
i have the right to breathe
but no will to life
but then a will to life returns
and i wonder just
now about Nietzsche's un-kept moustache
and i think of the weather
in England in June
and if this is summer this is the worst
Scandinavian summer
because in Sweden
there is a midsummer and a summer a twilight
and the white knights of St Petersburg
because i know that
there are the keys and gates
to St Peter's Gates
in St Petersburg
and not in Rome
not in the basilica of St Peter
but in a city of St Peter
and that is in Russia
and i think that's where i was
and oh god i look
**** again
because ****** hair
does not belong on a man's neck
like it doesn't belong
on a woman's feet
shins to be exact
and not on her face
and not in her arm pits
but sure as ****
i love to slurp a furry oyster
like i might be
the white man killing
the hairy elephant away
for having enough food to do
to do
a do of burning wood
to keep coo coo
a cooing a sensation of the fuckery
of backgammon and chess
and card
and other video games
and i was in the girl
talking about Roblox
and Play-station 1
and playing Metal Gear Solid
and Tenchu
and oh boy boy boy boy
no, sorry, girl, Reyla...
do you know how much time
you are wasting
by the modern gaming torture?
this is torture i remember
gaming like it was a narrative
a narrative sport
unlike the sports of hunting ducks
with spaniels
or fishing
i hear men disgruntled with the bread
and the circuses
and i see them hating going to football
seeing it turn into
a secular religion (gap and throw me
a bone
when i go to an event
twice as drunk as if
but really tugging my children with me
to keep me awake
now i think of the sudden rush
of exquisiteness
a piquant sharp
chilly sauce no hot towel
no i'm not here to relax
will finish watching Breaking Bad
with dad
and i will make Slavic schnitzel
and misery of cucumber and dill
and maybe onion
maybe the spring ones
oh jeez the **** is back the **** jaded
**** is back
resurrected
what of that un-kept mustard-gas...
mustard-gas...
mustard-gas... moustache..
    attache... mustard-gas attache...
but Martin now Merlin
does not remember me
he remembers Kamil -
now i'm thinking this is pair bonding
and this German philosopher on
youtube...
technology, internet...
authenticity "vs" profilicity -
i.e. the art of profiling
self
others
oneself
and others

my selves and my nouns
and my grammatical bumps
and skids
a road
a road to far away
i

i was just thinking about including
England in the Scandinavian
League
from Medieval Times
given that North Englanders
have more Viking blood in them
than South Englanders
which have more of the Swiss Bloodline...
from their reading of history
and close associations with
the Europe the Union
the Chains
i mean North England is like Wales
and who knows where the boundaries
lie
of this new sprout Kingdom
of which, i, Jarl and customs' manager
wonder in clue huh clue huh
the crows of england
fly in mythology
of Huginn and Muninn
which is while the crows
of the continent fly
in thracks - throngs....
          in market places: a carnival of flesh
flesh of the feasts of war
now subdued and no longer
heroic
like heroism and idealism (except for that French
dualism of *** on Descartes' table
cushion me
dearest teacher, the secrets...

            the crows of Odin
fly above England
while the crows of Barbarossa fly
over the Continent of Europe...

   ᚠᛄᚢᛏ

                    ᚦᚩ-

              (                   ­              ᚬ ą)


:) :) :) :) :) the apple machine forgot
to press ******* keyboard to find
the letter... ᚬ ą -
missing on Apple Machines...

                                                -ᚱᚴ
­
some ungrateful son am i
while grandfather was alive
Martin was the Prodigal Son
and upon his return
squandered his prodigy
in that he didn't once
lift a book to read
or write with finger
or clean his father's room after his death
and i did that
and now my mother went back
to the house of her childhood
and she can no longer
smell the death and museum of her
father
that i cleaned
that i cleaned
and i think that's why there was so much
shock upon mother returning
and "confronting" my grandmother
because that's now
not a case of Edie and her mother
and my mother and her mother
because now i have four mothers orbiting
me Miroslaw and Reyla
Miroswav...
     Miroswav

          SWAV

                SWAVA POLAYA
niet nad K
clan
klej
              klątva!

a curse upon my family! a curse upon my lineage
Martin knows who
i am i have been unmasked in the visions
of history and monotheism and the journey
of one particular god
who can forget
because not a universe god is he

          i am CAIN

i am the reincarnation of CAIN
    i have the mark on my shoulder blade
the right shoulder blade
where my wing was clipped
i waited and waited
in line to sing or say something in the court of
kings
and then someone clipped my wing
like picking up a telephone

and reincarnation can only happen
in the confines of monotheism
is they are pre-history of recorded cognition
and that does not allow
the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
it forbids it
it is a MAJOR HERESY
to even "think" and even THINK
that the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
is possible...
a reincarnation of Cain
Adam Abraham
yes...
but not even Moses!
not even Moses!

i.e. a Time of the Reincarnation
of the Illiterate
beginning with Muhammad!
ah! he he he ha ha ha he he he ha!
he's the first prophet!
Muhammad is the first prophet
if monotheism is to ever
reconcile itself with polytheism
and the polytheistic "reality"
of reincarnation!

imagine a time and the distant future
of the old figures of the old testament
being resurrected /
reincarnated
to write their own accounts...
easy: just imagine Cain writing a book
just imagine Abraham writing a book
just imagine Isaac writing a book
just imagine...
for a while...
Jesus was pushing the tradition
of saying but writing nothing
that tradition died with Socrates
and that's what ******* the Jewish intellectuals
at the time
and that was that...
Jesus took it for granted and so lazy
to think him illiterate
seriously?
Socrates had no audacity in old age
just old age
but for Jesus to imitate Socrates
in some airy-fairy sort of way
by sign language of the crucifix
rather than jumping mental hoops of arguments
and self-aversions

no... i didn't go and chase up chasing
the wheel in Whitechapel today
or trying to break into a Mosque like i might
want to break into Wembley
tomorrow
but i'm working so
now i look the part
but instead i thought better for the barber
and "stock up"...

   the Mosque can wait the wheel can wait
Ezekiel can't rise up since
he probably wrote
not even Isaiah
but perhaps Elijah
and perhaps there will be no horror
if anyone: echo! echo! echo!
did Elijah write anything? anything? anything?

there's not even the remotest question
of me "sobering up"...
rather a case of me unthinking the need for
the use of letters...
even with these seemingly wax
eyes
of being strained to black and white
like strobe light glittering diamond
in darkness
but if i lift my eyes up
there is nothing but the grey of the day

ah! message to idea
one selfie two selfie
just to look peacock and *****
for her too
looking **** sexed-up and sober
yes just relieved myself
by writing this...
so... yeah...
there was a thought at the beginning
of this:
i'll make sure to message Edie
about it...

             wife, *****, personal secretary,
something along those lines
form penance for going to church
like penance in Islam is a woman
wearing a Niqab
then the equivalence is
women going to Church...
so barbaric and foreign and backwards
and that's the fertile ground
for Christianity since
its culminated failure at the Zenith
of **** Paganism
a revival of the Myth of Lithuania
but fertile ground enslaving Africa
and South America
is not really because there's a Missing Spanish Link
i.e. this can't be referenced in England
but must be exported for a review
to a neutral ground...
no idea...
but since the histories of England
and Spain are so intertwined
well... there is just too much history at times
when there's something specific
about to be optically stressed in
either wording esp in wording somewhere
in painting
which belongs in galleries
and not on papers
in wallets
on stick 'em along lines of walls
and sometimes: no labyrinths
so straight infinite avenues
where no one really meets anyone
so unlike a shared labyrinth
a confiscating labyrinth of both self
and other self
since parallel to us the other and the other other...

p.s.
Hans-Georg Moeller...
notable mention
notable mention...
just wondering what
German phrases to learn
for tomorrow
but chances are
i'll be with the Spaniards
so it won't be much
fun not entertaining
the Borussia Dortmund
fans
although i hope i wish
and certainly on the egress
cordon at DC3 on
Olympic Way...
blah blah...
we'll see, we'll tomorrow is another
another

        some                     other

this business
of writing leaves me melancholic
at best
and melancholic at worst
this talk of mothers
and of grandmothers
how to succumb to
the godfather myth-os
of the unobjectionable
NOT
Y tall:
tail: I
THAI - LEAN
closer... poke poke
peek a'boo
why not the I-THAI-LYAN
not some geriatric society
of a Lama let
alone a Dalai...
          or maybe: mmm...
on a hunch on a whimsical
transverse
to these comments
in the newspaper print
really pass off as human-speak
or is that
simply a speak of a spoken
to or a spoken of
a speaking without a sense
that could level a mountain range
from peering eyes
teary, abandonment...
replicate her game with first
husband
backgammon:
once dice are invoke
what sort of game is it?
could backgammon become
the equivalent of chess
given the pieces are checkers
and if politician lied
when why am i not to lie
but then again
i tell terrible lies
and i'm always non-confrontational
and it's not like i need
therapy in order to speak
but god this not so mighty
new-atheism and a concern
for... humanistic aesthetic appreciation
society?
by god there is no god
we wage war against man
with nature in the abode!
but no...
                  now i'm melancholic
because i write
and i stomach a mother
not able to interact with her mother
and that makes my uncle
a singing prince of doo'dah
and do-little
and that's all fine: supposedly
it's just a question of who gets what
and if he should not get his well
earned share
of no share
just him then
this is like a bad phrasing of
what communism
sought from tsars
and now what communism, pseudo-economics
dictates of
cripples who NEED
to share with fellow men
like crab buckets are not crab
buckets
and even the insistence of Edie
jeez... something like this came
up i'd step back and
miasma...
        i see no life in this world as
some idealized fascination
with privy to:
a teenage boy's dream
this is no dream this is a savage
environment
and we have been duped
enough to see that how man
passed judgement subjective
at first then as cold god
objective on a wink and wince
then a return to the satanic
pulling and stretching
trying to figure out two mating
serpents with that similarity
to snails
and why not the snail
why the snail so oblivious
like kite
or rather like: there's no wind
or rather like:
if serpents are lizards
and snails
are motivated fungi...
let's say...
the parody of cutting meaning up
into compartments
and restraints
then i wonder...
because i honestly do wonder
with an O and an ah and an oh
and a sigh
i do woo myself to woe
with wonder
how, so very little...
escapes the grasp
of people with an innate
ontological retardation
as to which i also ask: what is ugly...
what is art is not necessarily
the beauty that can be
bypassed and yawned at
but what is art and ugly and self-inquiring
of itself
and as much: for the other...
and that's where
i find my resting bones
and an agitation to sleep this day
off...

n.b. / p.s.
tomorrow i'll be heading toward
Whitechapel
with a wheel found in Ezekiel's brain
fidgeting
a definition of: what it is to not feel cold
or maybe iron will be deciphered
as something associated
with the boiling point of water
and when you fly from London
to Cracow
you will see these massive
plots
of salt farming... closest to the sea
these plots of zoo azure
clean cut mirror
not white not silver
but somehow all two...
and how there's a diet of words
and language ingested
and how there isn't
and then you think back
to a third person
that later describes itself in all
honesty of: i, i, i...

and then...
there's the mortal reach
and a mortal breach
and then a cool
confiscating o-nothing.