MY TO GWARDIA
ISC
NA BITWE
WNEK
              I DZWONEM
TO SIEM
SIEMANIE
ISC: NA DOSC!            las: los...
i to przykre>

               ten las.... to:
(toten, Szwab)                        los:
fate: ich: yup ******* sauek-crout...
      arbiet! er!
halt!
             auf!
                      zienbienkrieg!
halt!
diog march: geese!
gooosew!
freign heithuaphter!

o tym braciu: o tym!

qhwn=

when i reread and
air: oh breathe¬
breathe¬       i!

            funny went
and the donkey cried...

paint me a hot *****
paint me *****
without the aid
oif flower

           the difficult art
of words in architecture
replacing
giraffes
and grafitti...

        mental virus: thus spread...
otherwise Kung Po chily noodles
and Kung Fu silly...
ate the lion's mare
while snorting jazz
via an elephant's souvenir of the trunk
clamour:
a welfare good ground
obnoviously staffed
by talking clarinets...

          idiot staff well dressed...
like faking playing chess:
but abhoring thge fact: of taking
advantage:
i suppose:
these were supposed to be
my equals: my **** similis:
******* Darwkin
your disregard of for the potency
of the microcosm
of viruses
just monkey no i saw
myself looking for being a bear:
as an ape i took a nap...
and forgot:
that i wanted to always become a bear...

funny: not: not a wale= a whale: H =
i don't mind god being evil...
i find comfort in that
and being good...
i dn'==
don't
like the idea of a loving God
when he who loves him most
supposedly:
becomes crucified...

can i love him because i fear
him and stay in the background?
i want to be famous:
don't get me wrong...
but i'd love fame: post-mortem.
i want to be famous
when i'm dead...

       death needs the pardon
and the burden of being famed...
i want to burden death!
i want to burden death with fame!

Tao and the art of no motorcycle: therefore no maintainance

what a ****** title...
but if the pseudo-Greel wolf-mann can write
a book about the patricide inversion
of a son's suicide
and cope
but at the same time: snuggle and smother
a confession of a madman
that somehow QUALITY
is the root for the tree: unlike the dog a god
if god was to love us
he couldn't do it as a man
as a man he'd be crucified or
ridiculed as Nero with a flaming harp...
o'm going to get drunk and listen
to some Madonna..
or myabe... no... not... Rockmaker
by the Dandy Warhols:
finally! the feud is over! two creative geniuses
came face to face
and last night i slept
in a cabin
and listened to the storm talking to the trees
oh how superior the architecture in the north
from simply wood: Norwegian oh boy blue
i'm getting high from a good conversation
and i think i'm having
something telepathic with Reyla
and Edie is in the background
and shaking her *** oh tease camaleon
cook me some Puerto Rican munch munchies
i think i have a daughter a lighter
spirit i think i was given a blessing
for forking out
20 quid in the paths and it almost feels
like Christmas when i can be
a child benevolent
not my favorite: by Easter i'll be sparrow
songs and happy willing so the mercy
of the passion of Geth and Semanii...
trans-gender nightmares of the Nag Hammadi
pronouns in my head...
i was ******* a blonde beast last night
in a dream:
listening to the wind break and creak
and morse code itself into wood:
how wonderful...
to hear the symphony of the elements...
when fire speak to water
when fire speaks to earth
then wind speak to the earth via the trees
and i'm the Dune's Guildsman lost
in fish and frogs and parasites and Orange Dust
not Spice not Fog...
oh Guildsman: hold my sway:
no pub for objective clarity:
just a translucent thought of Islam
like there was a golden age of
the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth...
sober up: have some historical perspective:
god all loving as a dog...
but now as man so lowly caste to suffer
on the necks of supposed ****** virgins...

EQU?
no... the word i could compete with: etymology:
suggests:
EQUIVALENCE:
i.e. EQUAL
                         VALENCY...

equivalence is an adjective and i find dyslexics
fascinating in England
because in Poland there is hyper-literacy
and an Agony against the algorithm and the personalised
algorithm of the AI...
with the Grypwa: the prison slang:
so we're in this same little leaking boat: are we?!
we! yes! jawohl: mein kommandt!

disorientated democracy:
the noons have crept and the shadow has lept
from the window with the cat
the baby and the bathtub...
some water is creeping: odd: since how many:
elements... can be coupled with silence?
i asked for lightning to the 5th element...
now i have to ask for a 6th...
i need the element of vacuum to be invoked:
invited: by god or by dog:
to which all i paint: a pointing love: affair...

white crow: black eagle:
white crow: black eagle...
word for word:
neo-Romantic rereading:
England is Scandinavia
and Poland bled the breeding
a German Host
this is no East
this is Central Europe:
West went via Europe went via
Spain
and call them Hispanics
the Europeans call them Aztecs...
so littly represented via Polynesia on American t.v.

maybe i need a mountain of my name
meaning name...
Gift of God...
or Conrad: Wise Council...
i'm Germanic root for root
hey presto! a tri!
ugh... if acute... iota... no need to exclaim...
so?
          trí                   now roll / trill the ЯR

Greeks and Romans stay this close... this mirror:
mirror kiss: so close...
how depict the trill on the R? a cedilla? the wavering
marker... let's see...
did i pin point the noun cedilla to
a crucifix of suffering?
everyone even the Norwegians
newly converted Catholics?! **** me BORZE BURZY
IDZIOM! VIA IDIOM....

how beautiful the world: ought: and was to be:
but now the serpent and apple
is no more
there's only the tongue like a worm
wrapping itself in parasitic form
around a heart of stone:
my heart:
i implore: i do give kindly...

             it's the way this beggar woman approached
me speaking at an angle 10m apart:
which is a far enough gesture to get
my attention:

all i had was the fear...
the one fear i fear most...
listen to the prologue of the Beauty and the Beast
to get to know me: better...
i am prince chamring fearful of the Enchantress...

she asked for shelter... from the storm:
currently the methodology of hieroglyphs,
cunneiform and Ethopian molasses...
what a strange dream i had:

so she asked for shelter:
40 buckles or pounds of Shylock's testimonies
came through
via a messanger attired in flaming eyes
and Ku Klux **** ghostly voodoo:
not the end of Octoberm, yet...

i flew over... all over America: H'america:
and i dropped ***** juice across
Greenland... a whiteness of the whiteest source:
insomniac suns and belly full moons
these ******* satellites!

orbits that make moods and tides
of the seas...
from what i know the Atlantic was
a dangerous crossing:
esp. from Liverpool back to homeland
Ire...

so the Polans were the people who swayed
with feld like the mongol tribes
driving horse blood and playing
arithmetic with Baghdad skulls:
i don't care the sacrelige is already there:
the Israeli barbararism of Lebanon:
only when Liban and Lebon
become invaded by these: scrupules...
then i invite the thought:

and the Vatican stranglehold over England
with the Cathedral of St. Paul's...
there's so much more
but then i don't think you have serious...
interest...
i need to book a month off from the bare
minimum of work...
i want to get hitched to an American
Girl: oh so Tom Petty...

i gave her 20 squid: a quid to squander:
i admit i do hate the English ambition:
Elgar was a terrificly terrible musician
but what a wonderful life:
orchestra in the lunatic asylum...
the life more interesting than the music:
i'll stick to Slayer...
the grandiosity of birth of Bertha...
and the generosity with it:
like...
           dyslexia is on part of the conundrum
before start to plagiarise and utilise AI
to make church bells sing like uvulas
and the reign: curators of the art of silence:

but there is a storm a happening
and Bob Dyland is out for baseball
or whatever the lackey former icon
feels like right now...

                   two check calls: coming:
none: coming...
ridicule my passiveness...
but it was so heart-warming to try to fall asleep:
i ended up with a dream
of eating out a **** of a blonde
with the perfect tash...
she raised horses on a ranch...
in the middle of a Pacific nowhere...
as i was eating out her ****
by ******: of her intimidation:
i noticed...
i was eating a **** of an angel:
lacerated on the chest:
having both wings, formerly...
and a pair of ****...
cancerous growth made this dream-*****
of mine a survivor of breast cancer...
i didn't see a pair of *******
like i might see the eyes
and nose and mouth for *****...
so the dream is distortion...

then i think...
but no: now: i doubt...
if i doubt i therefore must be in double-think
mode...
i listened to the wind
and how superior
came crashing... the concept of caves:
rather than morph the tree:
the comfort of a tiny wooden hut...
heat it up real quick and cool it down...
the wind: agape...
started to sway then talk to the pines
and other trees...

it creaked and smackered a revelation
so clear..
but i'd hate to feel like the idiot
of simply giving a woman £20: buckles...
squid...
   but she said it was her birthday
and she was an intellectual mirage...
and i'll come investing so much
   trajectory Hawaii...
i do...
            i'd rather... i will...
live under a volcano... a graft of gods tectonic...
revealing the tectonic shifts with
the births of volcanos like
the dead stone of mountains: not...

Poland is far away: like a quote
from Neville Chamberlain about the foundation
of Czechoslovakia... capitulating:
like Milan Kundera making his:
mind... right up...
Poland is far away
and somewhere in between
the history of the people of Germany
and the people of Russia...

but i'd rather...
to before God...          than the Eiffel Tower...
i'd rather be in the shadow of a mountain:
who names me her gift: his gift...
i... i must have performed oral ***
on an angel that had
wings but decided to chop off
its Sphinx suckle on them ****...
            
Gryps... the language: vernacular: slang:
of Polish prison inmates:
i'm starting to question... questions...
answers... quakes and accusations...
        
                                      there's a language
to behold: uttermost, absolutely free...
           then there's the language of the Morph...
like spice was
now dust is:
   i feel the need to feed off the dead in
ceremony...
                judgements judgements
such petty hyperbolic suggestions: to qualm:
pacify: gesticulate with sordid
ambition...

                           i am in prison planet mode:
once upon the time the world was so unknown
while everyone was seemingly known...
now that the world is known
and beyond the world the moon and stars...
so much hush-hush psy-pacifism
of the modern scrutiny of the least
modern hybrid: the chimera...

                        feast: fishing in the agony
of the mirror for the fish of ego:
but with such currents of the collective cognition:
no thought belongs to anyone:
god simply ***** thoughts and oughts
out having established the taboos...
clinging to thinking as if it were our own:
our own: there is:
how we managed to sample the cognitive stream...
the Holy Draft, formerly known as: Spiritus:
is this stream of thought:
like the Jungian collective unconscious...
parody: almost...
this living stream of thinking that
God simply deviates from...

         i doubt: therefore i must think twice:
i must think that i think...
and i have to also... alleviate myself
with seeking nothing... god apparent...
we attach ourselves to this freeflow of thinking:
no origins of coincidences and originality
will, ever, arise!

thinking arose from the ****-est-godly-manna...
in man: conjured by the ego:
ooh! that's me! perhaps... maybe...
or just: ha...  ha...                  ha...
next time you give 20qids to a beggar woman
seeking shelter:
just ask yourself...
   am i being made into a fool?
if she's honest... i made a gesture worth salvaging
to prompt memory to overcome itself
and counter with imagination the flow
of thinking like that's the only proof of god's existence:
that we simply think for our own...
what?

last time i heard thinking was squandered on
daydreaming, on logic...
on puzzles...
which shows the proving of shining:
the unstoppable agony of thought
the moral compass
when only the basic were given
and the basics, were: enough!

                        a thought is a unit of moral ought:
not law: i won't be so harsh:
because at the end of the day
there's the schizophrenic confusion
of how the hierarchy works in those sentenced:
like a ******* is the lowest of the low
and will be beyond the innocent man
falsly incarcerated...
or the murderer and the thief...

     thinking is not mine: just...
how that wind spoke to those trees...
and how the earth trebbled: in troubling and trembling...
before the wind was talking to trees
to creak and lasso lisps...
there was talk of the wind with the seas
and how there must be a siege of England!

to borrow from a title: tittilating as it might to snigger and gobble up laughter in that sense gluttony-parody... then again to butcher German (via tongue) - to a greater extent Martin ****** and Adolpf Luther... I see a correlation: ask me not, or why I abhor Brahms but I should abhor either Schubert / Schuman more because the Germans have orchestrating minds and not ones to succumb to piano genius: plodders and cobblers sooner than piano maneuvering manifestants... deshalb... eisen in der seele (iron in the soul): alter: rost im blut (rust in the blood).... perhaps... but through the thickening smog of Cracow's ashen-snow: a re-birth of Ishrael... Nil Ven- live in Cardiff.. Cwydyff... Rossini... Stabat Mater: the counter reformation... the spirit of music for the ill Germanic soul... and like the genius of Luther and ******... but who would have thought that the expulsion of the Yiddish from German entanglement would bring about the resurgent Heb state and by "token" an invitation for the Muzz'n'Ummah to try to settle these northern lands with its dark and brooding melancholic... like the vision wrought up by Luther culminated in ******: of flesh and bone and flawed and not superstition prone superceding a mythical evil... just a snot barrage on a moustache... at least that how's I align myself with the purpose of Scandinavian intellect: on these isles: that, if I tear and take away from the equator and the Greenwich meantime... if Iceland is part of Scandinavia... then the British Isles are magnetically aligned by dictate of the synonym... lines of geography that cut as if parallel: into reading of history... aligned sideways... mea: cusp: ein herz... a fledgling... a fleshy light of fire that's both illumination and a warmth; Herzog: blues.... adamante!

the most and probably only redemption
for the British Broadcasting Cooperation
is bundled up in radio...
not so much BBC RADIO 1 or 2...
more so 3 and 4...
                  besides the stalemate of visuals
that corrupt by rot and flake
of life's ****** / zenith...
redeeming, these sounds... very unlike
the television as primed for the analogy
of Plato's cave...
less shadows being projected and more
a scenario of the doppelganger
shadow-thieves... something of Islamic
and even Victorian superstition...
the evil eye the photograph the soul
ensnared: a wild entity almost animal
when given the focus of a return to
vis-a-vis God: as word: and deity: as thing...
but my point exactly is not an exacting
of anything...
I've been looking for an intellectual
reprieve from Herbert's Dune...
that isn't to say the work is difficult:
but the punctuation is curiously
a puncture of fabric and holes and buttons...
but a movie can really undermine
the joy of a reading experience esp
when there have been three adaptations:
and via Lynch there's even that nibble
on the Messiah instalment with
the Guildsman fish-frog
    in an aquarium with all that orange
turmeric and cinnamon fog of colour
and hallucinogenic potency...
so back to heights of literature that would-
-n't or couldn't make a word-to-image
translation...
Jon Fosse like some satanic figurine
                  dwarf macabre ****** leech...
but instead of a garden and an apple...
a park and a playground in it and instead
of an apple a girl sitting on a swing...
second time round: if ever...
that would be no apple and no tree...
but a ******* a swing and a boy pushing
her... oh how I live to love her
and how she makes it bearable to be
almost my mother in terms of things
aging yet she has this girlish way concerning
her: this adolescence of wanting only
love because she knows there's only love
to be given her...
she has regressed so beautifully
that her 14 year old child seems more
adamant to be sober loved with my demeanor of taboo distancing:
but she, on the other hand is like a girl
with faking being a woman and womb...
this time round it would simply be:
me giving her a stone in the shape
of a heart with my tongue wrapped
around it: a thought in and of itself:
last night I was watching a movie about
Martin Luther and I thought about how
fertile the cognitive landscape was
for such man to emerge based upon
the plough of ridicule of Catholicism
and obviously I think
of the other Protestant factions:
but Luther was no charlatan
while John Calvin and John Knox were
but hitchhikers and no need to make
ol' 'enry VIII any less but given
rhe dynamic of the star of David:
from atop a concentration to the bottom
of the plateau of the triangle...
                           such fertile ground
with what was still, by then: a paganistic
extension of what still hasn't become
Hasidic level of the importance of
literacy: still persistent:
that people O plebs vagabonds
anarchists and vandals (ha ha)
are more entreated, encapsulated by
solid frame, sculpture, meaning via
colour... painting... than the gifts of
word and number...
which brings me to the conclusive remark
about a certain practice in the Ing-Leash
zunge... the pronouns are one thing
what a terrible loss of intellect:
the concept of names: names are of
people... names... a tier above what
nouns are: a chair is a noun
a table is a noun...
a planet is a noun... but...
Jupiter... there's no name for a chair
yet you I we will still call a chair a chair
and not the act of sitting on it:
yet English does the diminutive form
such illness of a slack of the aesthetic
of the diminutive...
Mateusz becomes Matti Mateo
                                               Maciu...
       Teo....
                              what other name?
     while in English the supposed endearing
and diminutive (which is the original
intention of the diminutive form:
to give an endearing quality)
from Matthew simply Matt (door?)
a Christopher a Chris...
a Samuel a Samantha a Sam...
Peter the Pied Piper Pete...

the taste of your "words":
in my mouth:
no...                  not words:
unconscious:
sounds:
onomatopoeias at best
and at worst...
like shadows of fridges,
elevators... giraffes...
              my solipsistic serpendipity
has come
to an: evolutionary end...
a history with presceince:
when
and only when
biology becomes invoked:
like Dukes of Nuke'Em....

          i get the gemale
G-Male = Female...
                 fetish for puncgtuation:
you painted:
i see tecture:
Mona nLisa is without tecture
impression this:
chemist walks into a bathroom
imagines a pciture:
imprints it ontp a painting
                  form: perfectioninism....
perfect the form...
you ****** the form up!
still happens:
Harryh Rane, Wonlado!

                    sigma finally
acknolowedges:
Omea contrea G Alpha
          says ghost: you  blinking?!
i paint:
i no longer write...
ink for blood....

   .............................................
...................­......................
..........................................­.............
......................................./.,..................
...................................

i stopped writing...
i started doodling:
and having all the **** in the whole
wide wired world...
i came with tongue
tio tease salt out of...
****-butter

i think i ithnik i i think think think
thinking Joe joys of
Joy's ?be
Beclett... illiteratre Eire...
think think blah thing coew crow
think

i came here to untangle, then tangle... Jon Fosse's Septology...

i just started reading Septology I - II
it reminds me of my 20s
when i left the "****** market" place
and started reading Heidegger...
writing has become
difficult...
                 "difficult": wombat Bryan
and Barry and ******* Down Syndrome
Dwarf...
he's coming! i don't give a ****!
no shjit!
the Pedohpile Down Syndrome Dwarf
is coming!
this is my "satan"...

why has writing become difficult?!
love and life got in the way
of the artist:
i share the same confines as the mad
bureucrats...
oh... and those alcoholic hornets from
Lebanon:
failed state index:
no third world countries: per se...

writing has become difficult
because i'm finally! if: yet: having meaningful
conversations
with people like Alexander, Edie, Reyla, Hollie:
Miroswav and Eva...

Jon Fosse a welcome break from how writing
becomes cinema via Frank Herbert:
mate, Alex: i need a break:
the book wasn't fifficult
but the cinema barraged my reading mind
and i had to overcome cin ema:

empty light:
hmm... i was always vivided divided upon
what is the ought of worship:
sun and light
or the moon and the tides...         ? ?
                                                    ? ?

my poems are abounded houses
where squaters dream...
of king beds and palm trees and even i do that
in my little security hut i snooze
for 4h...
15min interludes...
i sleep to dream falling asleep
in my own bed and bedroom stinking
of bookworm spice:
my Dune: a personal library:
and that Spice on planet Earth we call Dust...

i have on3 friend i can discuss Conrad
with Silesia and me...
               i have abundance of Solomon's cravings
in the brothel...
but also the Queen Mother of Sysiphus from Liban...
i see
the sea the cyst...
Medi-
                oh see i sea a seeing...
                            ache of the heart:
break 'em: via: thought of them...
the other name: the stone is burning:
the three x2 eyes blind...
sharing what this Polytheism birth advent
into a single word:
Jon Fosse rebelled the Bible riddled
with I am the way: ah ha ha ha
I am i am AM PM I i am am i am
Jon Posse: Fosse Pff... flicker...

                   some bled... some had mud sickness
creatures and living among mud
like bears are among eyes
i could ask... KING KONG
to dance with CELCIUS CLAY... the ******* BEAR...
i'm sorry we have to live as
monkeys
straightening bananas into
algebra
and letters
              but also figuring out bananas and bows
am i...
           tripping or are you's them schizoid
trippin'?
                                apostrophe...
­
writing has become so difficult...
               because... i can't conjure up imaginary
conversations:
        
but best feed you... beast....
I am man and therefore Hades....
          A.I. are my twin daughters...
Hades barks....
            Cerberus replies: hows a daughter?!
Hades asks: dog! are you on a leash?!
dog! are you on leash! is that a fool's moon?
asked Mark Nathan:
implores John Michael: Promis, Priya...
then says: Matisyahu Konofale...
i am
at home
when Yellowstone Volcanco
blow up
forget there
ever was the United States
or the former Soviet Empire...
**** takers pseudo Slovacks...
call any Russian a Slav... ha ha ha...

blame
me
not pianting:
but canvas pruden ce
and says i:
the ******* and sculpting#
texture in painting missing...
the affair:
novice...

                       modern and postmodernism
invoked painting:
anti-algebra:
                geometry: tecture...
texture...
                     chemistry:
watcvhing walls paint colour dry...

                 new ***... i keep it vanilla
around Priya and Vanilla...
sister stitch... of a smile...

                     i am the ***** *** baron: Varkonnen...
KINZIE KENNER
is my ****** ****
the eyes i want to hurt you
my ***** of Babylon
Babylon receives a postcard from
the Zenith of Rome...

so much tlak lucky to have one friend:
spring rools and katsu curry schnitzel...
two movies: the Shining:
joke's on Johnny...
kidney donor:
my other life as a Bond MR ****** Shizva Shiva:
my buckle shackle
the old African ladies
sing JEsus tunes:

v                             left5 it thefere
there...       v for L upside-down: Byzantine:
teasing a Turkic barber...

so Jon FOSSE... is like ULYSSES 2.0
in the ;l:
the most Ezra Pound infuenced:
my mother said i'm JEsus chRIST
sleep less:
think more: a glorious ratio
of rational dichtomy:
in the ratio...

                              space and punctuation:
not
constrains                      (tss... tss... wet jazz)
and space

                     even Arthurt called Alex@:
do you have a girl there: up with you?
are shadows summoned
when something pagan spectacular happens
within the confines of overlord
Christianity?!

silly ******* cat... Amelia?
she snuggles: plural: of continuasly:
continue: continosuouly:
i think i left two land mines of a spelling mistakes...
by now i'm painting:
i'm not having human conversations...
she just snuggled up to me like a ****-star:
like i....
get farted upon... by cats:
males **** and territory: marker:
female possums...
they ****: bad miasma territory seekers...
those Iranian and Arab hind-su: *******..
hands like Slavic women
in the field...
fat
ugly: nuggets...
psychopathic chickens...
women with ugly fat fingers
most probably Atrab women...
the NIQAB wonbt ******* help
you transgender ******:
you have fat fingers
you just discovered oil
but you have fat fingers!