.when circumcised men talk about the pornograhic usage of un-circumcised men... the whole: ein, zwei und drei of sitting on a toilet... well... i've heard, that some circumcised men read a book while expanding their ****... what's the problem? this is a conversation to be had between circumcised men shaming *******... what about 1970s Italian *****, and Bronzino... and still-images reworking the imagination as to what could be established with a photograph of a body; who the hell ever suggested watching *******-*****?! are you talking about the sort of guys who never managed to experience buying a *****-mag from a newsagents? circumcised men... never my sort of calibre of intellectual titans... uncircumcised men: different story... i don't actually know how to talk to circumcised boasting males, they're as weird and incels to me... actually: weirder... they have a stipend for raising the more: unnatural line of argumentation; em, would it be more natural to talk about circumcising lips? what else might you not need? how about the ears and the nose? you don't need those lame artifacts! ****, one better! why would you need... eyelids?! you don't need eyelids... why would you need eyelids?! if you don't need a *******... the logical conclusion arrives at: if you don't require a *******... you don't need eyelids!
you know how relativism
doesn't exist
within a subjective
dialogue?
in the statement:
relative:
a subjective experience
is absolute...
and an objective ".........."
is... relative...
with the only worth it is supposedly
able to summon...
i.e.: nothing!
______
and whatever made man's mind
into a spaghetti tangle...
lessons to be learned:
for whatever the lessons,
i only keep forgetting,
what sort of lesson is that?
equipped with the "knowledge"
of an omni-this
and an omnit-that...
"knowledge":
what is, english,
translated into a song in
finnish?
nigh of nought!
metaphors...
you sure you'll lead
them by obscure poetic techniques,
when shunning our
grief?
what?!
the modern sing-along karaoke,
the modern thespian...
i agree...
****** poets came
ashore...
none to ever loose
their mind to madness...
and even fewer to,
exercise a rite to sucumb
to the asylum...
a growing beard
will not save you from
the insanity of the best
kept secrets...
my i thank the deity...
as i succumbed to bypass
the P.U.A. reversed dynamic....
how the love
for folk music translated
itself from classical,
choral and jazz works,
back into confidance for
succumbing to folk....
the sort of carnal
desire / hunger spoken of the flesh
of woman, died in me,
the moment,
when i laid my ability to love
to rest...
i once loved...
once was enough...
now if there's a god and i'm
to learn a lesson?
right now:
god can *******...
i have learned
too many lessons
to begin with...
any more lessons and i'm still bound
to a scholastic boundary,
i'm still bound to endless rubrics,
and subsequently,
the only freedoms are arrived
at, with the expressions
of terrorists...
learn how to become
an imbecile!
god, god, god...
i'm a "schizophrenic"
but more bilingual thanks
to this, this omni-****,
grand, glad glory of humanity!
save the west?!
save it yourself...
hope you get some *******
on board...
you have my blessing...
but none of my conviction.
p.s.
well, that was the draft,
skleroza -
a polish term...
brechta (he's laughing) -
it's not chatter...
like in east german,
ich is isch: e-ś/sh...
come to think of it,
the english zunge is now
my playground... my circus...
i love, how, i can fathom
a position, of ownership
via acquisition,
leaving the natives scrambled...
the natives are contained,
they only know one language...
but last time i checked
the news... 5,000 jobs are on
the line... given the english
steel industry is finally buckling...
only 5,000 jobs?
not so bad...
around 7,000+ jobs
were undermined from my home
city,
a whole city
was displaced...
yeah... it was...
a steel industry based
city, exponential growth...
now the english,
know my pain,
of being: immigrants...
they have it easier though...
there's south africa, canada,
h'america, australia, new zealand,
to fall back on, without
learning a new zunge...
bon voyage!
sehen sie später!
what else was there?
is the soviet satellite state's
steel industry imploded,
the english steel industry was
only given around 30 years
of preservation...
and that's considered lucky:
the pillars for the stade de france?
they were produced
in my home town...
ostrowiec świętokrzyski...
too many consonants?
what's your gujarati like?
not "too many" consonants
in hindu words, or greek?
a mongrel german loan word...
polacks have this inherent
validation process of
integrating loan words into
their zunge...
it's a ******* etymological
playground,
came the russians,
came the swedes,
the norse men who founded Kiev
while rowing down the Vistula,
came the Mongol, came the ***
who later founded nation of the Magyar...
oh, i don't need tattoos,
i have plenty of historical events
that already tattoo the insides
of my cranium...
apology: i will use english grammar,
to write in der richtigzunge,
i'll never get it right,
but i need to escape this
***** of a language,
this neu-lingua-franca...
this language of globalißation...
apparently the easiest language
to learn... not if you have been thrown
into the deep end of the pool aged 8
unable to speak a single word...
learning: the hard way,
the only way...
"easiest"...
well, given how there are no orthographic
distinctions: and some do appear,
and how the language is plagued
by instances of surd-particulars:
i.e. "silent" letters...
well... if, so so "silent"
why conjured in the visibility of the eye?
e.g. gnome... gnostic...
oh look... diagnostics...
it's no longer "silent", is it?
and where, may i ask,
is the gamma in a word like:
thought?
ah... aesthetics anti-orthography...
for all the misgivings i have
with my native zunge...
based on loan words...
at least is expresses
a clarity of syllables...
thought?
phonetically?
fowt.
when when: w,
fowt.
see? looks ugly, doesn't it,
oh but i'm not worried about the new
gate-keepers of techno-literacy,
coding,
that **** will outlive me... it's only young,
i'm, more, interested,
in the old, gate-keepers,
the old gate-keepers,
the clergy, the priests, the literate caste...
it's already evident they don't care
for their own power...
so they're getting sloppy in abusing it,
no longer able to hide it as well,
even if they caged marquis de sade
in the bastille... because he was,
probably going to make public his
uncle's deviances...
and what did the marquis de sade actually
do? he told a ******* to
re-invent the crucifix into a *****...
one "deviance", and then he was hounded...
so if you asked me, what sort of drunk,
are you?
not your typical drunk,
given, drinking is a matter of using
the sedative property of alcohol...
i was, regularly,
i dress, well... whatever the night
appreciates and a low body count...
and, while rehydrating my body...
i make dinner for my parents,
busied by garden work,
i can plant a cherry tree,
say kind words to it,
even my mother was surprised...
she bore no fruits last year,
only flowers...
this year?
unlike the plum tree...
and i pray to gott,
that i have enough grapes to make
myself about 15 bottles of homemade wine...
i'm the drunk,
who will write something, akin, to this,
discipline, is, key...
grammatical discipline...
as i will stand... rolling out dough,
using a glass to cut little u.f.o. shapes
of dough for pierogi:
polish dumplings... roughly 40...
filled with meat, sourscrout,
onions, mushrooms...
i'm a drunk,
i don't mind,
i've seen what a stereotypical drunk
does, namely my grandfather...
but i am a god-fearing man...
and no amount of "awe" with regards
to reading philosophy will come between
me and a bottle of *****...
such that i would turn to
a drunken stupor...
sure, the odd occassion
of a drinking session,
turning into me comforting a teenager
on a website, while washing my shaved
head with whiskey come sunrise...
or going into the forest to scream...
to prove to myself:
beyond the breath,
the vox, the schrei.
p.p.s. or p.p.p.s.?
a man threw a crab-meat torilla wrap
at a mosque and...
one pig snorted a sentence that read
as follow:
while i was never a carrion...
a scavenger of the dead...
perhaps mr. and mrs. pig have wronged
the camel-jockeys somehow...
seeing how i sweat more than
a sheep and if i were to fathom the sun
i'd suntan to a crisp-bacon...
bite matthew: bite where there's
a paradoxical impromptu n00b n00b...
so pig is off the menu...
but crab meat isn't?
mr. pig and mrs. pig and the pigglets
roman and lypi
said: because of no furr we are...
least santified because...
we devolved from the boar...
truly we are the Huguenots of the animal
kingdom...
even the bonsai tigers
bound to the lineage of Muhammad's cat...
Muezza...
have it better...
but why belittle us worse than...
what's freely eaten... if not the Beijing dog...
and not the north h'american vulture...
then the ***** of the Maldives!
this supposed eating of ****...
well... a bear will eat the automated process
of fermentation of fallen apples!
and fall over drunk!
no animal will eat ****...
islamic myth...
but there are cannibals as there are
necromanducare...
vultures... *****...
and we eat ***** and even dare to call it:
a most pristine meat...
sure... ******* the dead is only
a human phenomenon...
pigs alligned...
but eating the dead? so... it's not fresh...
and it's not readily available...
and it is allowed to do its utmost
to rot, first?
and Islam begs to blame the porky
but leaves the crab, absolved?!
lamb stinks...
esp. the kidneys...
for some reason pork doesn't give off
a whiff of chanel no. 5 oddity and or
perfurmery!
no better, no worse... there's just this.