So November's Come,
Hazy leaves deck the trees;
Rotten ****** wrecked the sprecht,
gotta please, gotta tease.
Cotton crusted smile
took the style while spine dumb;
Freeze as whacks churn
spurned, danced to the crime hum.
Early squeeze amidst blitzed spritz, dark romancing,
prancing picket line fum-
bled; Ambled twixt crowds antsing.
Glazed, took prior avenue
espoused culture tazed/
Fazed, ascends erased hub,
Dire mazed/Liar snubbed;
Nah crowd sourced: after-shock stancing/
Corp core flexed waves/paves vexed glancing,
Dropped four, floor to score, music cull en(c)hancing.
Enchantingly out of touch; Butchered lemming dancing.

Rupturous rapturing gospel takes all:
Sports neck line with wreck wine drenched via stall,
Appalling, talling tower looms abroad
Broad took shin dig as grin, fling; swig accord.
Objectified Subject, with verb kept in tow
flits through the fine lines, and cracks in the snow.

Noticed grave shadows, slow; ravens attest
a'Gig'a'Sibling invested in scoping, and chest;
Blooming bioluminescence scatters down/
Frothy broth fairly broiled. Scorn fawning Noun/
Habit forming, tarnished, ab(d)jectified malt-core
Verby? Nun-thank-you-muchly, Mary Mag-dolla store.

.... So November's Come,
Clubbed, stepped and altared.
Brushed away the dark hype
crowd mic check faltered.
Dastardly respite. Psyche.
Planted positively preened
nature:societal fiend
crept crudely, rudely James Deaned.
Pants 'cocked, stewed, steamed',
Megalithic mount gleaned
as posture postulates
cost you fate, spate-spoke-stake, ****-rate
vibrate denatured, protein plucked feud
fueled larger sense of afterlife tense imbued.
Spotted shortly crossèd portly,
tautly tossed courtly cost,
'nawt'ly flossed' possed thoughtly;
Sportly Mossed Kate washed
scene brimmed/beamed/loved
'Leaned' fussed. Trussed team musk/
Stock puppet power-aid, raid's pretty husk.
****** sidekicks show side slicks, stuck chiming bitty.
Flickering afterdark lark glistens, gritty-city-fitty.
Bought distorted Faster Mark, Narc acrossed shark,
passed past the Rasta Park, embarked'n'stashed arc.

Dark the dreams that crept to the fallen gate/
dazzled gems and hellish rhinestones irk fate.
Grated joy, plated coyly, then doff broke;      
spoke symphony of fattened tire/wire frame joke;
Took twisted lyre, choir, to tame my europa,
maybz next time a better luck'n'fly my eloper,
clucky chickens plucked/fussed/cussed, a fitting trend,
Spare parts missing neural heart; a plasticated end.

it was around 2001, i.e. circa 2001 (tautology,
but not for rhetorical purposes, not as tool of the sophists)
when the mad cow disease spread across
England: that beef and hoof and moo genocide
when the cows got their "geriatric" wobblies
their Parkinson's shake-a-doodle-do's -
frenzied like Elvis finding gravity in the knees
and the pelvis with suede and blue dogs...
music before drug affirmative mantras...
yes... then... around that time...
i was still one year short of sitting my GCSEs...
me and this rascal, Peter, Richardson(?) -
we used to roam the streets on the weekend...
climbing trees, throwing glass bottles into the air
waiting for them to shatter... going up multistorey
car parks and spitting on people...
well... i did have an agenda about spitting on people:
another time when i was much younger
i was taken to Chessington World of Adventures
theme park by my father... there we were minding
our own business watching seals
when a ride passed us... one of those train rides on
stilts - a group of boys in a carriage decided it was
fun to spit on people... one massive phlegm landed
on my father's head... i was furious!
i wanted to get my own back... as it happens...
karma can be blind... there are always collaterals,
innocent bystanders while karma is allowed to sentence
some sort of compensation...
karma is hardly personal: or rather people THINK
that karma obeys personal qualms,
you can't harness karma for your own sake...
but people always cite karma like so, especially in the west...
well i did get my own back...
i managed to land a juicy phlegm hark on a collateral's
head from about 20m high up in a parking lot
with Peter one beautiful Saturday afternoon in Ilford...
so i was supposed to go to this outdoors resort
centre for "poor" and "disadvantaged" kids in Wales,
Glasbury (see it? now say it... the Welsh say it
as Glaze-Bury: it's not Glass-Bury, more on that in
a minute)...
          i didn't go with Peter that year because said X...
bad moo moo...
          but the P.E. (physical education) teacher was kind
enough to offer me a chance to go again
two years later... but then i was sitting my A-levels
but by then Peter was long gone:
deciding to finish his education at 16 and go into tattooing,
getting his teeth knocked out in pub brawls,
ending up working in a carpet retailer
(although, much later i found him shacked up with
this honey and i thought to myself: ****...)
so i went to this retreat...
                    we did horse-riding, caving,
canoeing...
                         but one day we were told to do this exercise...
split into two groups...
one group: older boys with younger girls...
group two: older girls with younger boys...
   we were given a map (topographic to be more exact)...
we were driven out into the countryside away
from the resort...
group two (older girls with younger boys) was
dropped off first...
we were explicitly told... you can follow the road
from where you came... or...
so the first group was dropped off first...
our lot (older boys with younger girls) was dropped
off way way further afield...
to this day i'm wondering if i cheated...
when our lot were dropped off... map in hand...
i asked the driver... so... where are we?
a creazione di adamo finger hovered over the map
and pinpointed our starting position
(don't all public maps ref WHERE YOU ARE
on a map? YOU ARE HERE... so i wasn't cheating,
was i? you need to know where you are on
a map before you can start reading it and then
translating it onto the environment, no?)
so as Michelangelo pointed and then drove off
i took charge... ah! i spotted a short-cut through
a little grove, forest(?) and a cow field...
so as the boys in the group were busy trying to chat
up the girls i ended up (unconsciously or otherwise)
the leader of the group, taking responsibility,
being accountable (**** me, this NVQ3 in spectator
safety is really brainwashing me into being an upstanding
citizen)...
          and so... we managed to beat the other
group... so much so that once we reached the retreat
house we were already busy doing physical exercises
in the yard to **** time while the bewildered group
were coming down the hill with that HUH?! expression...
point being:
now i find myself in a similar situation...
if not a physical intervention dynamic then at least
an insinuation at... dialectical-sophistry...
because you don't have time you don't have
a Platonic leisurely for dialectics per se...
therefore in conflict situations you need
a dialectical-sophistry dynamic: to become quickly
persuasive...
like in my last shift at Tottenham Hotspur...
operating a human cordon at the entrance of
the Seven Sisters tube station entrance...
           the Pareto Principle:
        in terms of crowd control...
         20% of people will cause you 80% of problems...
how did i manage the massive queue of people
with only 6 SIAs (security industry authority operatives)?
i left them to it while i studied the crowd
and listened to their complaints
in order to spread my point of view INTO the crowd
for the crowd to hear my own constraints...
constipations... concerns... whatever...
talk to one person and then word-of-mouth
will do your bidding...
"yes sir, i agree with you, but it is not the football
club's fault, Enfield council should have started
making logistical improvements to the area,
they knew for well over 5 years that
the original stadium would be demolished,
from a 30,000 capacity to a 60,000 capacity...
the infrastructure of the area should have been
updated to accommodate for a strain in egress..."
boom bara boom... talk to one person and then
that person talks to another person in the queue
and you contain the disgruntlement...
you also add the empathetic:
"well sir, every single shift i finish as Wembley,
even though the staff leave at least 2h after an
event, i still have to end up queueing with the spectators,
yes, i too feel like i'm cattle and i'm being herded,
but please appreciate the fact that
when these transport hubs, stations, were built,
there was no incentive for a coliseum culture
revitalisation, football stadiums weren't even remotely
near the capacities they are at the moment,
so how would you begin to increase train station
capacities, would you think that double-decker
trains could be envisioned to accommodate more
people in transit?"
i might not be a police officer... but i'm second best...
my mother always wanted me to be:
either a police officer or a teacher...
well **** that... but it turns out: if i do this security
job and write sly poems on the side...
i might have eventually become both... in an informal
sense of the word...
not that i'm thinking about pleasing my mother's
ambitions for me...
i have my own ambitions... or call them dreams...
only today i sent a picture of a note i crafted
upon waking... first thing that popped into my head...
to my girlfriend... in ******* Hawaii...
go figure... but technology has made such relationships
possible, bearable even...
yes i'm going to have hiccups: i'm a man in my
30s... i wasn't a flirt in my teen years or my 20s...
now i'm a natural flirt... and that's my bad...
i've gained enough confidence over the years that
it's hard for me to not be a flirt...
but a flirt is a game without actually wanting women
a flirt is a way of studying women...
i have one i don't need a harem...
    if girls used to tease boys in their teens...
see... girls play a game of tease...
boys play a game of flirt...
tease for flirt... tease for flirt...
but only once you reach a certain age can you start
to flirt proper... and it's usually with the younger
girls in their 20s... who you have absolutely...
respect(?) - no... interest for...
         but then again: is that neurotypical given how
many instances there are of clucky men
wanting to settle down with younger women?
me... ha ha... am i neurotypical?
                    so i woke up... wrote a note...
took a picture... sent it to HER...
and it read as follows:

                        Groß = Groz
                                         (the same Z in Polish and English)
                 Since Zeit = Cajt (not z'igh 't
                                                 but (tseit - in English
                                                   of ****** phoneticism
                                                as above, cajt)
                ∴ - the one time that Braille influenced
          mathematics, not really, but that's
            therefore:
                      ß = Z                 not Ś or Š
              ß = Z (proper, the Polish and English Z,
          which is not the Deutsche Z which is
           the Polish C and the English TSE)
          
obviously i could have looked this up in a dictionary:
but it's so much more rewarding
when you wake up and have an epiphany...
it's better than waking up with a memory
of a dream... because you wake up with a memory
of a dream rather than the dream itself... no?
well that's what memory is to begin with:
the blurred line with the unconscious
and dreaming... obviously when memory is stripped
of this airy fairy day-dreaming construct
of relaxation and utilised proper for: arithmetic
and spelling... well... that's another matter...

scharf: spitz (spits slavic C)...
Aglican X - kss...
sharf Es stumpf Zee             dead Ed... living Dee
for the three K'appa sounds:
                                "
Cat Quip K' (potassium)         'alium

i had this Spaniard called Jorge... everyone
English called him just that... George (not gorge)
Joerge...
so when i asked him i sort of knew what
he would say: written Jorge...
but in Spanish... d'uh J and G are... H...
Horhe...
                        and yes i could have learned this
from books...
but then... people write books...
so...          why not skip the books and read people?

just thinking about the (use of the) English language
among the Wanstead crowd...
those hipsters and familial ******* jockstraps
of pride:
whereby, also, single women, puppy mumma's
carry their poodles around with wry smiles
of self-awareness that doesn't translate into self-assurance
these holistic pop up site
these tappings on the forehead as if to prompt
the awakening of the bindi or buddha's third, mind-eye...
just one: considering Islam: allah has two mind eyes...
which makes him a Jewish joke
like myopia is Allah the four eyed quadratic
like i have letters in my name:
two rugby posts: H H...
and Y the serpent's tongue
and the W or the wave of time...
what my woman can't: simply can't... understand...
as a Catholic and not as a Catholic:
i can't be subordinate to Christ...
for all his staged suffering i am a stoic
in understanding all the suffering that happens
in the world in silence and in darkness
and in isolation:
this proselyte messiah or the messiah
of the proselytes:
how we would all become magical mushroom
Jews: Hebrews!
this pagan soul is intellectual...
i am a pagan intellectual: i'm curious about
the world, about language:
i don't need! a ******* iron maiden crucifix
pose to settle the score with:
with god i can settle the matter on affairs of
words and letters...
so... e.g. the tetragrammaton and the allah
contender immediately settled...
two of my poems saw absolution:
saw the compedium the final banality of what
life is was and was not to be...
i saw time as a fraction in light:
because time... oh time is so unlike light:
the stars...
time is the indivisible the incalcuble:
i do not dwarf under the weight of an ever
expanding universe, space doesn't bother me:
but time?
light and the stars are equivalent
to 0.000000000000001 meaning of time...
rough estimate...
put enough zeros behind and put enough
zeros in the mirror of creation and hey presto!
satan's clause and mickey mouse!

palm sunday meets rosemary twig Monday...
have to start smelling like a ***** Monsestary bound
European...
i never wanted women like some men
i wanted...
i didn't want anything...
i was just thinking about language...
definite articles...
did you... know...
that nothing is a pronoun, it is also a pronoun...
***? non-existent...
i am just realising:
i might not be a racial minority in London
(questionable):
but i'm certainly an ethnic minority:
i'm an anglo-Slav like borrowing from
the Anglo-Saxons who treated the Welsh
and the Scots and the Irish so poorly:
why the Welsh Irish and Scots treated
the Romans and the Romans in turn treated
them
as the modern Afghans of the way way
way ahead of you...
the definite article: the...

        ðeh         þought:

so these women these nuns think, still! still think!
"think": that he died as the sacrificial totem
akin to the chemistry associated with preserving
biology: from mummies
to taxidermy... taxidormy... i'm writing
and i'm not getting red line underlining prompt
to correct my spelling:
as i told Alex:
you know what really bothers me about America?
they treat Catholics with the same suspicions
as Muslims...
but they have these new age churches
with pastors dressed in Hawaiian shirts
and they're dyslexic...
what's wrong with dyslexics?
i'll tell you: for centuries there was a monopoly
on literacy and we had a priestly class
and a warrior class
and the masses were illiterate:
as we the warrior class:
but the priestly class were the gatekeepers
of literacy...
and look what happened! under Christianity:
and Islam followed suite:
and Jews remained: rats: basically Jews:
i identify as an urban rat... urban fox...

two syllable surnames, ha ha:
HIT-LER
STA-LIN
FRAN-CO
Mussolini doesn't ******* count
the courtesan the dear bongo bongo
apparently a Gad o Sad
described Italian men as the ideal lovers:
drama courtesans...
i can't imagine myself
being filled with the purpose of
chasing women...
El-ert...

           o.k. o.k. language...
indefinite article A
indefinite negation article: NO
definite article THE
definite negation article: NOT

so among the knots of no there emerges the NOT
to shun all No...
i'm having trouble dissociating
the positive: the anti-negation articulation
into bullet of: a no the not...

yes... the s bothers me: since
there's also the plural article s
and the possessive article 's... no?
so we came to this Wanstead "festival" like
marounding pirates:
a scouser an anglo-slav...
a pakistani and an india
and two mixed race prototypes...
the pirates have landed...
the children noticed us...
oh my... i never thought i would see
that side of Lyndon:
he had a bollocking about call signs and Disney
and waffles
but then he did what
Mark Leggit would have done
by touching the child, lifting the child:
trying to play father:
which prompted the women
to ask for his identification
because:
i never thought i would see
a man become: as the women put it:
get... clucky...

do i wish to have children?
wouldn't a partner equivalent to the age
of my mother and a teenage daughter
i could have given ***** to: suffice?
don't know...
           maybe i'm not supposed to...
i can appreciate the fact that my observations
are precious and precarious enough
to be held withstanding the desires
and the needs for having a woman
and children in my life with
biological knots: of no nots...

how the **** do you distinguish saying
yes once from saying yes
a number o' times (apostrophe F)
intelligent? are we?
let's test you:
on the rack of dog ownership:
i own cats: they're not social events sort
of animals...
remind me... i'm tapping my fingers...

in my youth i was so gsagging to travel
to India... joke being?!
India came to me! ha ha!
me ******* off to Kauiai with dyslexic
pastors
and who should the current priesthood be?
the ******* algorithm and AI writers...
this is the new religion
these are the new literacy barons...
they just need a pope a St Peter
maybe a St Matthew to give them focus
concerning: how much ******* power,
power: they have:
there is no longer will to re-establish the power
already governing the people!
there is a new "dyslexia"!
i'm part of it!
      i'm illiterate in the domain of coding:
coding is the new literacy:
but i'm watching all these children and i'm...

backgammaon!
it's a game of strategy at first...
less strict than chess...
but enough time passes
and backgammon
becomes
a desert queen of: just strip baby: just strip...
there's a banality in the game
when all chance-tactic-non
equaluates itself:
like there's the existence of a game
and there's a yawn because
there's a revisionist yawn of consciousness
of: we were... playing a game... weren't we?
oh... so you're right: mr. wellyard...
commotion in the bar? none:
i just looked the part
and kept a stern face and sunglasses
on when the kiddy teenage girls noticed
i was still wearing a friendship bracelet
form a Taylor Swift gig (anti-hero:
ugh... now my favorite song)...
i just thought one word... now maybe two or three:
now... comes the sweetness...
teenage girls in provocative attire of knee high socks...

but language though...
so a: indefinite article
the: definite article...
no: indeinite negation
not: definite negation...

      it's not so easy with the definite
and indefinite affirmation to counter negation...
i already said:
time and light and what passes:
light is a fraction of the concept of time...
time is like light:
physics is the study of the potential of energy
chemistry is the study of the potential of substance...
biology is the study of the potential of consruct...

one ******* hippy festival
in a crux of geopolitical affairs
and all the ginger **** purple haired dog ladies
start going mad
like i put on this fat facade face of concrete
because i've been standing on my feet for 10h
and had only a 30min break and bad chicken...

oh my, oh my... i'm going to get so
much reading done on my shifts at the Elephant &
Castle... just 1h away...
i'll finish Knausgaard's vol 6...
           and say goodbye to Joseph, my grandpa...
i think that's when i will break into tears
and give the homeless a nightclub esque...
no no...
but i will certainly cycle on my: prized possession
of a Bias... Basis... Basis...
tourmalet...
                 and think more about the popish
and the priestly: neu-klass...
             if no one is daring to address the concept
of revising literacy...
then we'll be left with barbaric grafitti giraffes to
show for it...
it only takes a miner and a grave-digger
to suss out the middle-class and ask for Buddha...
because Christ is for Kings
and not the paupers... ha ha!
Christ is the god of kings and not some petty...
drama queen Sri Lankans and Puerto Ricans!
Christ is not the god of the paupers
he's the god of kings!
i can't have Christ in my life!
the ****** had a father for a carpenter
and a mother who lied about being an adulterous *****!

ha ha!         just that... Islam makes so much
more nugget: of sense in me!

seriously?! we're going to have this: "conversation"?
the imbeciles... new literacy was spawned
and we're still just: scribbling terrible rhyming
work load ethics of words just being used?
just... being used?
and what are the remnants of the old
priestly caste?
before the death of god: or maybe after:
i see something more wonderous than
the death of god:
i am witnessing a death of belief:
or rather:
i see belief being woven into tectonic pressures
of having to become evolutionary
viable: to be preserved:
not for any specific dogma: of a people: for a people:
but for the ultimate scrutiny of existence:
that existence as an experience
that can be reciprocated with the acknowledgement
of man: can be: and will be: preserved.

p.s.

i think, the only way to utter...
the definite articulation of anti-negation:
plural ye as in yeS...
in the most affirmative-idefitiness is
via the existenial brackets "/"
ergo: via: yes is the definite-affirmative-article
while aye... ultimately: yourself (reflexively)
your self (reflectively)... is
the only i: of the indefinite-affirmative articulation:
and article... not a pronoun.