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I've never been precocious
But Predication brought felicity
and intelligence has no relevance
like being benevolent for duplicity

remaining as reigning viciously
until my enemies show complicity
my boss wont know i was late, he
died in a car crash, what serendipity

no nihilism repair its ******* me
so im **** that it remains real
indigenous is my attitude cuz i feel
ruminative when immigrants steal

my land, and in my hand I am
holding the world so miraculous
but to live autonomous my abacus
calculates death comes to a pacifist

so goodbye i give the mass a kiss
and then give them my *** to kiss
while i ******* then after state
i am not a *******

So why I'm cantankerous
Or why I cauterize is convoluted and hard
To defend or guard but i cant ******
the shine of a star til i blow up like a petard

propensity relentlessly
Is pressing me til effusive
I talk trying to remain exclusive
to sanity But my whole life is elusive

So my proclivity limits me
and my ability cause being stupid
Is hard when ur insipid and predicted
the afflicted money addicted will get ruthless

while the medias news is
bias and newsless
but for so lomg now we new this
like stephen harper their useless
Brent Kincaid Jul 2017
Hyperbole in front of me,
Political effrontery,
Lies dressed up as Scripture,
Treason beyond conjecture.
No hope of restitution
A gutted constitution
Guarded by mercenaries
Who hate blacks and fairies.

A pain to liberal brains
As hope goes down the drain
While major constituencies
Are sold out for SUVs.
Journalists lost their relevance
Kissing the haunches of elephants
In a mad rush every news day
To keep their beloved pay.

Chip-off-the-block jabberwocky;
Son talks his Daddy’s talky.
With no attempt at recompense
The fool makes little sense,
Hiding behind the leverage
He gets from his evil heritage.
There’s no need of morality
Or decency or much formality.

No matter how much criticized,
The wrongly, constantly victimized
Suffer the ignominy yearly
And continue to pay dearly
From our position down on our knees
As they try to rob everyone they see
And we are the casualties of infamy
Because neighbors stand by silently.
Mark Wanless  Sep 2016
Good News
Mark Wanless Sep 2016
I cannot be the universe of everyday occasions
the talky talky world a show with a host everyday
leader of the pack says how to pick your nose and wipe
your *** on that special soft paper that makes your ****
not stink so the whole world will like you and not
reject you the shame of the game is that most people don't
know they're playing they think they are in charge
with free choice being as much of a given as fingers
and the natural experience of life they produce but
free choice ain't like fingers its more like non-existent
until you've worked on it for a long time so if you haven't
worked on it for a long time and then kept your mind steady
everyday through effort then you don't have it it has not formed
in your brain and this is the way most of us are
which is the most common form of consciousness which is
conditioned thought and conditioned behavioral reactions
everyday and the people who want to sell things know this
and use it to shape a human being into an urge to buy
with the money to back it up this is not hidden but nobody
looks at it or believes it because they want to think
they are naturally free and the people who try to create
the purchase strings want to be in control so they tell you
you are naturally free everyday as they try to shape a
formation and alignment in your neurons everyday with images
flashing in your eyes equals flashing in your brain and next time
you see a flash of the name in a store isle you get a reflex
association that is not conscious it is pre-conscious and you
think     oh I want that     and you just automatically assume
this must be your free choice but it really is a conditioned
event and this is the big bug-a-boo with capitalism is that it turns
people into buying machines on automatic pilot so no wonder
the people in other countries hate the USA they are on the outside
looking in and they see the puppet show buying infection spreading
to them and hell no they don't want it we would not want it either
if it were not a part of our social programming from birth but
the good news is is that the brains of those in other cultures and
traditional frameworks work the same as ours so we are  not alone
or special in our habituated conditional lives it is everywhere
and people in other countries are just as much on automatic pilot
as we are but they don't see the puppet show they are in but we do
so the more good news is is that at least here in this country
we are well fed most of us anyway    ever been to India    and
we have decent places to live most of us do anyway     ever been to
Africa     and we have legal rights to a great extent most of us anyway
ever been to Russia     and we can just get up and get the hell out
if we want to or most of us can anyway     ever been to China
everbeen
Jay earnest  Aug 2019
Jay earnest Aug 2019
The nightmare
The simulation
The infection
The asphyxiation
The infibulation
The inebriation
The tyrannical grip
The hammer on your ******
The needle in your eyeball
The wrench up your prostate
The boot up your face
The finger in your mouth
The bomb in your place of comfort, after a long day doing nothing at all, just being.
The shoelace untied.
The brain with too much **** folded in your heart with no escape.
You want to ******* EXPLODE
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
bang
Sprawled out like bugs.
You wanted sone simple understanding, you wanted a biscuit with tea and maybe a back massage, but it's all too late.
Too late for the dreamer, and the 'talky' kid
Soon enough it will be over. I dont want to be anything or anyone.
I want quiet,
No words, no words no more words. No words and no resolve because there never is
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2021
iskra (title): par (the body to bypass the 502 bad gateway)

O these tender winter nights,
when the moon graces the skies at night,
i missed him....
in my native tongue he's known as ol'
baldy... he's not known by the name Luna...
just like the sun is a she...
& not Helios...
i missed him... how i missed him when
the nights were short...
when the biting air mingling with
frost didn't nibble at the hands
and explore x-rays...
bone-father... pristine eye:
he who discards unnecessary dreams...
will never allow recurrent dreams
to fester your mind...
   i look at this migrant crisis & think...
why are these people looking for
an elder of the north?
am i the elder?
    another question: could i be as welcoming
with a ***** attested to Abraham...
- once upon a time
i was taking a train from Romford
to Liverpool St...
a single mum with her child...
the child approached me
with a book & started reciting  the words...
in deutsche... i tried to hide weeping...
oh course i shed a tear...
a child was reading to me
about... operating trucks...
constructing scaffolds...
             doing the "magic" that diggers do...

ULVER - KVELDSSANGER:
you can just skip to the song: Utreise...

i imagine that if i were united with a woman,
the role of father would drastically undermine
my relations with the woman...
pointless talk...

i'm currently undertaking a
nvq level 2 stewarding course... so a preliminary test
of your English & Mathematics skills...
i almost completed the English skills test today,
i'll do the Maths tomorrow:
i always preferred a su doku to a game
of scrabble / a crossword...

overall score... 56%...
passable... grade C...
now the stats...
comprehension at 80%
text comparisons... eh... 50%
implicit meaning 33%...
  
    you're getting the drift?
poets should never be NVQ tested on their language
skills... you start reading e. e. cummings
or william burroughs?! FAIL... outright fail...
too much freedom you see...
you have to have a return policy...
a return framework...
you need to learn English parrot...

language features... at 75%...
using glossaries (67%)
organisational features (ditto)
bias (a big ******* fat 0... it ought to be O%)
bias... maybe i just misread something
or... never mind...
NVQ level testing: it's not like getting a BSc in
chemistry... oh **** no...
it's a mind spaghetti pressed...
you need to be double sure... i.e. wrong at least once...
****'s sake...

fact & opinion (50%),
writing style (75%),
written communication (60%)
writing (33%)... seriously? seriously?!
format & structure (40%),
organisational markers (60%),
persuasive language (33%),
complex sentences (50%),
GRAMMAR (80%),
verbs (75%),
     punctuation (36%),
   spelling (78%)...

   but bias at O%? you ******* kidding me?
i can't tell the difference between reading
propaganda in newspaper & reading directions
to get from A to B?

NVQ jokers... you must be stupid...
let us help you...
******* left high school with some A-levels
now they think they can rough up a BSc
owner... you know... i did this one ****** module
at university, some sociology course...
they told us to write an essay...
that we couldn't plagiarise...
what the **** did i do?
i plagiarised... we were supposed to be monitored
some some giant precursor of an A.I. Brian...
brain... that was supposed to pick up plagiarism...
sure... but if you know the "magic" of rewording
& have a ******* thesaurus handy?
i had to listen to some music,
my focus was elsewhere...
i plagiarised the essay: through & through...
managed to get a 1st for it...
did the, "system" catch me ought?
of course it didn't... so much more computers
& rules & what became my totem...
no wolves on these isles... the foxes will suffice...

NVQ *******... just regurgitate:
it's not even remotely related to learning... its a parrot
parody... but... after the initial test...
let me tell you...
i never learned so much grammar as i did now...
not under the GCSE model, for sure...
if only the English punctuated like the rest of
Europe apply diacritical marks...
but i write: outside the realm of giving a flying-****
& a gingerbread to consider what's
formal what's informal... it's... arrr... art!
you bring me down to a level of proficiency in
understanding: oi! black: to the right...
white's: down...
to the centre...
                        it's somewhat debilitating when
having to make distinctions...
what is from what's... because somehow
the practice of... congesting? concentrating...
compounding words is... informal?
if the apostrophe is so hideous when it comes
to don't vs. do not... **** away with it
when it comes to the possessive article!
don't use it... so how does: it's Sams bicycle look
like now?!
pretty ******... people make up these rules
only to give themselves gatekeeping stature...
gatekeeping hierarchical procedures...
o.k. o.k. i get it...
but i'm writing this only as a retaliation:
don't think some of us don't know what's
happening...

i'm ******* gagging for the mathematical questions,
i hope a su doku comes up...
it probably won't...

i never had so much encounters with grammar,
people who don't write poetry have ****
for brains...
there are so many formalities...
... is not even a recognised punctuation:
"strategy"... you can't allow yourself
the " " markers... whoever wrote the NVQ exam
obviously didn't read any Heidegger...

i forget that the 'obvious' intention is...
i generally appreciate 'said' as a quote...
"x" indicates toying with metaphors, misnomers &
insinuations... but no... oh no...

studying history doesn't give you the luxury of
studying grammar...
seems like grammar is fine... 80%...
bias at a big fat 0 of O%... come on?
first they test you, then they double-sure...
language so rigid is bound to be:
a non-language...
                      
        soulless "thing"... but fair enough...
after the last, failed, terrorist attack... i'll plough through...
i like tending to the flock...
i like the look on...  faces... that seem to recognise me...
as if they know me from a dream...
and there i am... in the flesh...

my Indian companion... i fixed her clip-on tie
for her, i took the knee doing up her borrowed
steward jacket... blah blah...
she told me she was diabetic, complained about
how for a week her other companion told her
to watch her sugar intake: i will have nothing to
do with reminding you of anything...
she was freaked out by autumn leaves
piled up in the park, how she was afraid about
not knowing what might be lurking
beneath / in the pile...
i told her about my apprehension
with regards to swimming in the sea...
how i much adored swimming
in waters where i could see the depth:

swimming in glass...
how she was afraid of cycling after falling over...
how her mother made the analogy:
cycling is like flying...
only today, with my hood up...
yeah... it really is... your view is so unobstructed...
if you don't look down and spot
the tip of the handlebars...
you can almost forget your legs are peddling...
she finally managed to fathom enough
strength to kick a pile of leaves:
to no surprise... nothing but leaves beneath
the leaves...

a walk in the park... i like the idea that a woman
must be comforted...
i like women with suspicions of reality...
one little phobia here...
another little phobia over there...
i like pocket-sized minds & hearts...
its fits "in" nicely: to whatever grand event is
happening, otherwise...

the match "might" have been taking place...
but the park was so gloriously available to wander
in alone, at peace...
it made more sense playing the authority figure
with a walky-talky...
asking people to drink up their beers before
getting to the venue...
such a... simple role... not a plumber or carpenter
in sight... if this is work... then i don't know
what loitering is... all it took was a change of attire
to turn: this load of ******* into work...
from what otherwise would be considered...
loitering by the load of *******...
simple!

O but the moon is high in the sky & winter is finally
playing the ******* accordion like
it might be slapping a heron against a rock
to death... love it... no other month is so magical as this
one... while all the people slip into a pseudo-hibernation
faze... i find myself rejuvenated: realigned...
the cold serves me abundance that no fruit
can ever bring...

gone are the bothersome insects, esp. the flies...
while the cats self-impose their own curfews...

why is it, that in Poland you see hordes... of crows &
kafkas... hordes of them: like clouds...
but in England... solitary wind-bits...
at most... in Huginn & Muninn pairing...
as if the ravens in England adopted the nobility
of swans... in Eastern Europe them come as...
messerschmitt: schwarzkreuzwolken...

         furchtbar!
see... when the English speaking world starts
playing funny... political, social, whatever...
grammatical... i tend to "forget" i speak English:
oh how i adore this tongue...
it's an armchair, compared to all the other tongues...
with one exception: the elder English,
which has to be.... most probably...
if not the modern variant, then any other variant of...
what was spoken in Saxony was also
probably spoken in Thuringia,
Swabia... Pomerania... etc.

    like the guy who delivers some of the packages
to my door... der glücklichenmann...
for a long time i couldn't place him,
his "accent" was no accent at all...
several scenarios later did he disclose his origins...
Deutsche... ein glücklichendeutschemann!
ich muss sein in güt: gesellschaft!

eh... perhaps the German grammar structure
when translated into English was
***** a little by French grammar which:
who borrows from who:
western Slavic grammar is so similar to French
grammar... if i were only this,
before... i was taught by a self-righteous monolingual,
later a Spanish woman teaching French:
perhaps i could be speaking French right now!
im diesem augenblick!

but the guy leaving packages... only today i picked
it up... he does have an accent... he has a German
accent!
he hid it so well prior... before he freely disclosed
his national identity... i wouldn't have known...
now he accents his speech like a German might...
prior to: undistinguishable...
amazing... i could the same with my ******
mother tongue... but i'm schizoid...
i can make clarifying distinction between the two tongues...

only today... for once he sounded so German
when speaking English, he almost had me fooled thinking him
a Schwiezer!
das "Himalayamann"...
    mein gott: so ich gedanke(n)...

but English can only become insufferable once,
of twice, three times i strike gold...
i end up drinking and teasing some German....
it's not like the zeppelins are coming,
are they?!

let me know... i must know... the part where i'm to be
educated about a minority status,
by a minority that is becoming: less & less...
minder und minder ein minderheit...
i'll cook my own ******* curry:
this that & the other...
too bad you will not "make east" of my peoples' food...
how much, do you ******* want?

it seems:

genug ist nicht genug!

i turn to German to make a "sacrifice":
i turn to it for: TROST...
English is too cosmopolitan... at times...
in London: all the ****** time...
i looked at Derby supporters when
they played Fulham like animals...
not in a bad "sense": someone ought
to herd these ******* home
to a warm pillow...

i don't like being reeducated concerning
statures of anti-racism... that's ******* *******-wanking
reemphasis...
i can't be... anti-racist...
i can be: counter-...
i can... not-,
           but anti-racist is a belief in the inhumanity
of those that express their, little, piquant...
tastes... i can't be anti-racist...

if i want to **** a chocolate ice-cream cone...
mein gott: weltpolitik!
nein! nein! nein!
          zu hölle: mit diese scheiße!

it only takes one ******* would-be Jihadi to
identify you as a German
before the 2nd concludes...
hey... why don't i try pretending to be: German?!
women of my own ethnicity can't tell the difference...
let us, do German!

such sights to see... solche ist winter!
ausgedehntnächte...
der mond...  neugier ohne frage(n)...
Thus yours truly resigns himself
June first two thousand and twenty three
to imagine being gifted with untold riches
courtesy  female named Jean E.

This ***** (caricatured familiarly
epitomized, demonized, characterized...
countless Chaplinesque productions,
Dickensian tales,
oil paintings from artistic
hands of great masters,
and other anonymous
exquisite craftsman, et cetera)
remembers practically nothing
of nine month stay in utero
birth, childhood nor early adulthood
my amorphous gauzy,
hazy fractal memories
solely comprise fractured,
fragmented and splintered collection
of miserable memories
character wry zing living
hellacious hand to mouth
hard scrapple existence.

Past wispy vestiges of wretchedness
present woebegone existence, which seems
a worse fate than death
overpowering urge to survive
summoning up one
barely audible l'chaim utterance
against depredations rustling
grim reaper found nothing
but defeat daily dismal
grinding away of last shreds
repurposed driven life fending off real
and imagined threats sought salvation
vividly encased within
preserved imagination,
an existence awash
with trappings of southern comfort
provided by Jim Beam.

Yours truly dug deep
with bony introspective strength
in tandem with fantasy notions knocking
around in figurative
heady noggin like cranial carapace
to muster every ounce
of strength escaping
chronic confrontation
endless streak of bleakness
cursed with brutish, nasty
nefarious fate as a measly

looking human varmint,
this grimy, grungy, rangy,
et cetera looking besotted being
clung with all might
within mine five foot ten inch
and one hundred
and fifty plus pound body
to transcend twerking terrestrial travesty
tweeting and tweaking
fickle finger of fate against favor.

I tapped atavistic survival skills
summoning willpower
to stay alive drinking butter bear
heavy cross of dirt poor poverty
borne no matter
a hard-core skeptic at heart,
this cynic plaintively
called divine intervention
to help this human piece
of flotsam and jetsam

to cope living like a doleful
junkyard dog essentially
abandoned, ignored, cancelled
and shunned vagrant
frequently raged against
Deus ex machina manacled movement
found figurative amidst
literal unlovely bones
slim pickens with demons
that tormented psyche

while traipsing along litter strewn
condemned boulevard of broken dreams,
torn and well-worn shoe
kicked discarded items
weather beaten hands reflexively bent
to retrieve accouterments
comprising colorful jagged shard,
previously housed cheap fermented liquor
nothing but crud filled
remnant of dog gone
boozehounds’ favorite drink.

Although never drawn
to drown sorrows
by turning to the bottle,
cigarettes nor drugs
(a respect for thyself existed),
an automatic reflex caught
eye-catching attention
comprising anonymous drunkard’s signature
lost memento and wireless device entity
constituted a dullish metallic object,
which turned out to be a heavily damaged
slender MOTORAZR (long obsolete) phone.

Out of foolish embarrassment
qua natural instinct,
i raddled then rubbed
remnant once containing
amber liquid of the gods’
irrational explanation in mockery
against cosmic consciousness, my mouth
jabber walk key talky like
into mobile phone these chapped,
course and cracked fingers
slid across unbroken surface
of antiquated bottle in tandem
with parched lips uttering
cockamamie pretend plea, a crackle, snap
and pop delivered a lifelike being whose
corporeal essence resembled a goddess.

The mp3 player issued magically
syncopated beats indicative per favorite
saved playlist tunes former owner
of electronic contraption
without a shadow of doubt,
this vision and auditory music definitely
brought sobered Punch
to this Judy schuss schlepper.

I clapped these nearly deaf ears, thence
rubbed mine-gnarled hands
across myopic eyes.

These twin ****** motions
executed just to dismiss
stray chance of experiencing hallucination
a maiden suddenly appeared
in plain view,
which disbelief found me
pretending to conduct
make believe conversation
via encrusted cell phone
while speaking a matter of fact tone of voice.

She (in a hypnotic, lilting,
melodic and sing song tone)
responded with casual chit chat
genie hill (Alladin like)
everyday, general friendly conversation
eventually ensued fraught
with apprehension and self
consciousness) before purpose
of her presence
became clear, an intuitive
understanding took place
akin to acute telepathic Sikh sixth sense.

Immediate difficulty arose
to think of one wish
to abet grievous humiliation
and immersion in miserable
penury, which might be abrogated
once and for all
with immediacy by simple syllabic voicing
for a pile of crisply minted money, yet
rather than blurt out immediate offering
for untold material commodities
and resplendent riches,
i surprised myself and
communicated a desire
for female friendship.

A gamesome, genteel, gentle gal who would
surrender herself for cries
and whispers seemed
more important than any pile of wealth aware
cha self-actualization about
my utter decrepitude
appeared as immediate
deterrent toward attaining
a bona fide sincere relationship, an ordinary
and reasonable ambition appeared as lofty goal.

Self absorbed in rambling
longing of body, mind
and heart, I quickly became oblivious
to imaged or real corporeal presence
who spurred outpouring
tears of joy per this
ostracized and unwanted vermin eyes
while loosening the tongue in an effort
to picture the escape
from pernicious malady
crushing breathing room
of abominable existence.

Lips shut tight also
prevented the woebegone loss
what appeared as some
divine trickster who conjured
such a muse out of thin air
upon winding down
this unrehearsed recitation,
a painstaking effort
got made to open the eyelids very slowly.

Lo and behold, when manifestation
in actual dolled up guise
of a gorgeous gal stood still as a statue,
and remained rapt
with attention provenance
and provenance found pleasure
in my prattle, and promise
got uttered by lovely lass
to remain a permanent
die-hard companion
no matter many considered
this paperback writer wannabe
nothing but wretched
pestilence of the earth.

This groveling gremlin
of a human felt like a beast alongside
one beautiful babe, who came across
as genuinely modest and passionate
to promulgate profound sharing of body,
mind and spirit triage, where homelessness
and pennilessness mattered not a whit
to this literally spellbinding goddess,
who seemed to materialize out the heavens
in the likeness sans Betsy Ross.

The question how
and where did this muse
render herself to appear
out of thin air puzzled,
and quizzed curiosity
assessed and gleaned no matter
not one word uttered,
thus necessity for conversation
seemed superfluous for we both
seemed able to converse
by autosuggestion of this,
that or the other query.

I (by the way) seemed
to be more intrigued
in this angelic spirit
come to life viz comedy of errors
that punctuated anonymous
life with angst king lear
riddled tragedy suddenly took
a most pleasant unexpectedly
found that all’s well
that ends well with this leery king
from southeastern Pennsylvania
possesses great expectations
by dickens no matter the field
of whet dreams populated
with slim (shady) T. Boone Pickens.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
title: workout
body: roundabout dot, dough 2.   502 bypass


i only woke up at 2pm, even though i had snippets
of consciousness by 10am...
11am... i was in and out of sleep: my dream was yesterday,
i slouched home at 3am...
finished the shift at Fulham at the exact timing
of 10:15pm... all my coworkers stood me up...
apparently i didn't follow instructions
but in the back of my mind was the motto:
safety, security, service... if two elder gentlemen
came up to me with concerns over why one
of the gates in the park was closed...
that there might be a stampede when people
were leaving... what was i going to do or rather
not do? not stand by the gates and not direct
people? luckily all went smoothly...
so what if the supervisor had to wait ten minutes
more so that i might return my walky-talky
and my accreditation... people's safety is the priority...
some *******... but your other lesser supervisor
messaged you... no they didn't... only the upper supervisor
did when asking if there were any radios still
not returned to him... i have a witness...
this 19 year old Romanian kid i was working with...
the one who was sitting in a Turkish akimbo
on the bench next to me when we were taking
a break... the one i managed to sort out with a free
cheeseburger that would otherwise set him back
6 squid... anyways... i was getting paid to work until
10:15... so i don't see any issue...
grumpy old men and their: "leave ten minutes early"...
England... a nation of alcoholics and workaholics...
life's too short... i already promised myself this:
the money i earn will go to prostitutes...
i was tired but... i arrived at Goodmayes...
bought myself 35cl of brandy and a bottle of coca cola...
circled the brothel several times trying to relax...
hype myself up... finally walked in...
that's what i promised myself... i'll spend the money
i earn on prostitutes...
                        what else am i going to spend it on?
vinyl? there's only so much vinyl a man can own...
shoes? clothes? drugs?
well... brandy doesn't count...
                  sort of like buying water... for me at least...
10 quid at the entrance... but i asked the madam:
is she here? Khedira, Khadijah?
the Turkish girl? is she here?
    how many girls are there? two?
o.k. - what an impression i made in my work clothes...
long coat... she later touched it: oh, so soft...
almost like a mink...
                  tall, dark brown handsome devil...
she was there... how relieved i was to see her face...
when you're ready? right now...
i took the other girls hand and kissed in...
into the bedroom... mirrors... mirrors...
in her own tongue... which was constantly waggling
like a primitive life-form of its on volition
eagerly seeking light or in this case...
the phallus and my own tongue and lips...
look into the mirror as i **** you off:
the best sort of *****...
  ooh... murderer eyes...
                          güzel adam: her own words...
          we started off with her sitting in my lap...
after i took a shower to clean myself up...
took off her bra and her underwear...
    she was mine... for an hour she was mine...
at 35 i thought it odd that i would be trying
******* for the first time, i snorted a little
and told her: it has no affect on me...
  i prefer marijuana... i used to smoke a while...
what effect did it have on me?
a second became a minute and a minute became
an hour and an hour became a day...
tiredness... a sneaky symptom of a slightly limp
****... but what i wanted... she also wanted...
me standing on the edge of the bed
performing the doggy *** position...
  she didn't even mind me slapping her ***...
she even responded positively... pinching her...
biting her... of course i didn't ******...
but at the same time: she noted my care for hygiene...
she put a ****** on... later noticing my discomfort
she took it off: live dangerously she said...
yeah: unprotected *** with a *******...
seems like i have special privileges with her...
if i can have unprotected *** with her...
it's not like i was going to ******* into her...
oh... but such a body in my arms...
  i could throw pearls to pigs...
            i could sink a thousand ships containing
Mayan gold into the sea...
but this body in my arms...
                  i knelt in between our *******...
kneeling my head was aligned with her collar bone...
petite tender creature...
ol' raven haired Turkic countess...
              and such ****** contortions as i rammed her
changing pace from doggy
to her on her back with her feet on my shoulders...
tongue waggling: eagerly seeking a kiss...
so i ****** her tongue in between slobs of
the oysters and the clams of lips pursuing each other...
today i woke up... dazed... no confused...
just... relaxed... even though i didn't ******,
i told her... that's not important to me...
i like the mere act... the ****** doesn't bother me...
i can but i don't have to... look... i'm tired...
i just wanted to be with you...
i'm not going to wash myself after this hour...
i want to have your scent on my skin...
you married? no... well that's good...
i want to keep you for a while longer...
          then she proved the pinnacle of my success...
can i have your number?
sure... so you call me when you want to come...
and i'll tell you if i'm available...
so what's your actual name? Khedra...
inshallah...
                            at one point she did use that
phrase: already a scheme in her mind...
            güzel adam - inshallah...
                          my thoughts exactly... there might as well
be a third branch of Islam...
not the one associated with the Arabs the Sunnis
or the Persians - the ****'ahs...
but one more... associated with the Turks exclusively...
i'd love to see a third branch of Islam emerge...
it has to splinter further...
if it truly was the one true religion:
there would be no schism... oddly enough the schism
arrived so early... maybe a second schism would
do the religion some good... the Turks could take
charge of this second schism...
really charge it along the lines of
                                  Sufism *** Gnosticism...
at 2am after i left around 1am she sent me her picture...
honestly? she looks better in real life...
much younger... animated...
some people are just not photogenic...
they need to be contort prone...
they are not supposed to be frozen... in a photograph...
being *** starved, intimacy starved...
no wonder i feel so relaxed today...
then again: if i had this sort of intimacy somewhat
permanently, i'd take it for granted...
i like the idea that i have periods of the cold dark...
of inanimate objects growing ears and eyes...
whenever i come across another living creature
and interact with them sexually...
certain chemicals blah blah are produced and i relax...
again... the act itself... how beautiful two bodies look
so entwined in the act... esp. if she tells you:
look in the mirror... look at us...
**** me... unprotected *** with a *******...
*******... just tells you how bad things are
on the dating market in the West...
prostitutes have better barometers when it comes
to STDs than most women in the West...
then again: she is Turkish...
                      Khedra... no... **** dating... i tried that...
Jeminah burned me...
i had stomach cramps i thought was out of love...
no... just a premonition... this is going to go nowhere...
she's going to ******* up...
what, a, *******, waste, of, time: and good wine...
and a banana loaf...
no can do... i'd rather pay up front for intimacy than
weave some ******* courtship past-time of
going on dates, for dinner...
i'd rather cough up £120 upfront and get what i want
than ******* enter some sexless limbo land
of ginger goats and blue sheep... count count...
n'ah ah... fall asleep?
        i'm not even going to bother thinking about
Western women... **** that...
Oriental? nope... Asiatic "proper" i.e. Indian or Pakistani
or Arab? nope...
Turkish... we come from the same womb of
the Caucasian sort... we're steppe people...
formerly known as... why, *******, bother?
i don't need a headache... i want an *** to slap... a neck
to bite...
    oh she burned me... sure... she might have had
hundreds of "customers"... but i hardly think any of them
looked into her eyes with such passion...
i told her: ******* has had no effect on me...
i'm here for you and you alone...
now i have her number... maybe we can get at it
outside the brothel...
well i must be doing something right, right?
all the women at work are school-girls... stunted
psychological growth... they're petty gremlins...
ugly souls... ****-able after a few drinks and if they
tarted themselves a bit more...
but... ugly... bog souls...
                    petty critters... backstabbing ghoulish
soap-opera drama queens...
i had to learn the tactic of veneer...
acting... politeness... superficiality... it's brain-dead-numbing...
but if that's what's supposed to be...
so be it...
as the zeitgeist narrative of the West goes
in terms of ****** dynamics: white women hating
themselves for a past that has endowed them with...
all that interracial *******...
breeding out a neu-Bra-tsil... well...
hmm... i have an idea of my own... i'm not going down
the narrative... chances of me meeting a girl of
my own ethnic synonym: "missing"...
better with prostitutes than with girls who are
merely looking for a meal-ticket...
Heidegger: ponderings XI - aphorism  50...
"westliche demokratien"... written circa 1939...
resounds more true than anything i have yet
to read... reed...
my god... what intimacy can do to a man...
but better i don't get used to it...
when i'm starved of it and i encounter it...
i can throw my entire weight about...
i can go overboard... full: utterly full charm offensive...
mirrors *******... slapping the ***...
biting... pinching... kneeling before the altar
of a woman's body...
doo-doo eyed the next day, relaxed...
not taking anything for granted...
now i have her number...  eski kuzgun saçlar...
old raven hair... tatlı kiraz...
benim aşk...
                                    if that's how it's going to
go... i'm sure of it...
the Turks could branch off from the already
established Islam... they could revise it...
have their own version... become the bridging
positive force... of all the Islamic people...
the Turks i respect the most...

- tesekiur ederim qeanam...
- benim güzel kuzgun-saçlar

      welll... unlike the diacritical markers in French...
the cedilla in French: garçon... thatr's
a "secretive" version of the Greek sigma:
στιγμας...
  the variation between Turkish and Czech
is that the cedilla... is equivalent to the caron...
ergo?

                      Ç = Č ≠ S...

— The End —