In nineteen hundred forty-nine
China was won by Mao Tse-tung
Chiang Kai-shek's army ran away
They were waiting there in Thailand yesterday

Supported by the CIA
Pushing junk down Thailand way

First they stole from the Meo Tribes
Up in the hills they started taking bribes
Then they sent their soldiers up to Shan
Collecting ***** to send to The Man

Pushing junk in Bangkok yesterday
Supported by the CIA

Brought their jam on mule trains down
To Chiang Rai that's a railroad town
Sold it next to the police chief brain
He took it to town on the choochoo train

Trafficking dope to Bangkok all day
Supported by the CIA

The policeman's name was Mr. Phao
He peddled dope grand scale and how
Chief of border customs paid
By Central Intelligence's U.S. A.I.D.

The whole operation, Newspapers say
Supported by the CIA

He got so sloppy & peddled so loose
He busted himself & cooked his own goose
Took the reward for an ***** load
Seizing his own haul which same he resold

Big time pusher for a decade turned grey
Working for the CIA

Touby Lyfong he worked for the French
A big fat man liked to dine & *****
Prince of the Meos he grew black mud
Till ***** flowed through the land like a flood

Communists came and chased the French away
So Touby took a job with the CIA

The whole operation fell in to chaos
Till U.S. Intelligence came into Laos
I'll tell you no lie I'm a true American
Our big pusher there was Phoumi Nosovan

All them Princes in a power play
But Phoumi was the man for the CIA

And his best friend General Vang Pao
Ran the Meo army like a sacred cow
Helicopter smugglers filled Long Cheng's bars
In Xieng Quang province on the Plain of Jars

It started in secret they were fighting yesterday
Clandestine secret army of the CIA

All through the Sixties the Dope flew free
Thru Tan Son Nhut Saigon to Marshal Ky
Air America followed through
Transporting confiture for President Thieu

All these Dealers were decades and yesterday
The Indochinese mob of the U.S. CIA

Operation Haylift Offisir Wm. Colby
Saw Marshal Ky fly ***** Mr. Mustard told me
Indochina desk he was Chief of ***** Tricks
"Hitchhiking" with dope pushers was how he got his fix

Subsidizing traffickers to drive the Reds away
Till Colby was the head of the CIA

                                        January 1972

Cut me cut me little blade
Save me from this mess I've made
Rupture my arteries and veins
Stop the red blood choochoo trains
Hush now hush now little blade
Don't tell them that I'm in pain

she came overnight, well, maybe just two nights ago,
but only today i felt her during the day
when i cycled like it was supposed to be a Sunday
afternoon...
she came with her frostbitten fingertips & lips...
i thank her for finally doing away with the pleasantries
of Autumn...
Autumn in England always felt like
Summer in Scandinavia...
something so temperamental so befitting my
disposition... centuries must have passed since
my ancestors didn't move a muscle from
these abodes...
she came with what i can best standardise
with the Bauhaus song: bela lugosi's dead...
don't ask me how: the why is somewhat self-evident...
like an elephant is... but a mammoth isn't:
or rather... like the mammoth was...
right now... a song is wrecking havoc in / of my mind...
i can hear the lyrics, somewhat:
just like i can see forms in dreams...
beside the usual abyss the odd humanoid form...
no... i can't hear the lyrics...
i can hear an Amazonian shout...
it consists of only word...
   it's burning my mind to an impossible unrest...
all thanks for Maanam's nocny patrol
album... i've had this episode once already...
with Alexander Borodin's Prince Igor...
it took me several years to decipher what
the music i remembered i remembered...
since... a ******* elephant stepped on my ear
& a donkey fresh kissed me while
an oyster ****** up my breath...
mein gott! why this song, why this song now!
why is it ravaging my mind with such
unrest!
  it's a pop song... but it's not in English...
no... wait... it's in English... **** me!
   now it all makes sense...
(the) Pretenders... i'm a mother!
                         i'm a mother!
             i haven't listened to it in a while...
- she came with such surprise...
it only took her about 3 days but at least 2 nights...
to change Autumn's gown into her ivory & pearls...
mother: dearest sister... i welcome you...
with incestuous glee...
finally i can drink a little & be drunk with this little...
i can huddle with a bathrobe in the middle
of the night, with some hoodie underneath
some t-shirt too... a ****** of wool on my head...
smoking like a choochoo flying Scotsman...
she's finally here? is she?! she has finally come?
to drown my sorrows away...
the times when sprinkles of rain will settle on
the ground... by night they'll be like paparazzi flashes
of a photograph being taken...
head tilt to the left, head tilt to the right...
a frenzy of diamonds left on...
the dreary concrete pave...
illuminating my eyes: dare i blink...
red carpets stretching far, far: into the sky at night...
diamonds on the pave...
and all that's happened...
water froze... time froze... space expanded...
a breath that i can see in the cold...
im die kälte... ein shatten ist erzählt zu brennen!
brennen mein zweiter-wenig-schatan...
brennen! wärme mich!
perhaps i ought to borrow some pan-germanic tongue
beside mere German...
eh... Dame Winter doesn't do "her" justice...
Fraulein is somewhat degrading... although:
n'ah... Ms. Winter... i miss "something" from time to
time too...
      gå glipp av... forget the Scandinavian origins
of Germanic, later English...
morphed by an addition of French...
point being: vinter ist hier!
enough said... best enjoyed...
beside the seasons of spring & summer:
sure... the body must appreciate them...
but... but the mind appreciate winter & autumn most...
they are the seasons to be reflective...
with all the abundance: our progress leveraged
a snooze button or something?
when spring comes & summer with her abundance...
where people are probed to reflexive orientation...
in late autumn and throughout winter
i can reflect... in that guise i can believe myself
to be a seasonal writer... if i'm a writer at all...
doodler, scribbler...
i'm just happy she's here...
i can finally see the volume of my breath...
i can herald the dichotomy of...
when outside... against the wind when cycling...
hardened ******... itchy shins from the cold...
i can return to... pseudo-bear-skins and candles
and... the most welcoming solitude...
every single alcohol drank tastes much better
when... the air... is as cold as the liquor poured...
although... to properly enjoy the hardened "stuff"...
*****, whiskey... the temp. in the air ought to
reach a Siberian frenzy...
but when it comes to beer or cider...
at least the insects are sleeping...
you can take out a garbage can without a bother
of juices from the heat...
you can luckily avoid the maggots...
danke der kälte!
      nein lästig, kleine fliegen:
nein (indefinite): nicht (definite)...
             nichts (nothing)...
  there are two ways of ascribing negation...
one is definite (not), the other is indefinite (no)...
i best leave the rest to her...
i still want to drink two ciders but also
have 8 hours of sleep....
          this has been: PLEN-TY.