I am becoming so sickeningly
happy, and now all I ever want to
do is dance to the music that your words
sing to me.

ząb... or tooth... zęby... or teeth... the lesser Ezra in me is more bewildered by the non-existent strain of either vowels or consonants in English, than the Chinese ideogram... i agree: you must have an idea when reading Chinese, and a population of over a billion... and subsequently a well-known linguistic complexity, a thrice-over Chinese wall in the eye and off the tongue, to later precipitate into an ease in making the mathematic tongue acrobatic... but then have no theoretic procession to study the complexity, or hear a xylophone... i'm the membrane mid-way between burying the Latin anecdote Beijing... and asking to kiss the hand of Marco Polo... had he wrote the Quran... i'm just simply juiced for one reason, this is my take on the corner-stone rejected... ******* the crucifix, and tickling the feet of the crucified one... as anti-jew as i can be... well: volk zu γoλγoθα... or volk zu γoλγoφα... compass! mein kompaß! alter: volk zu ßιναι! oh look... quantum physics... it behaves gleiche y = w, ~i, >ł.... and into a p.s., as γ = Υ (upsilon contra gamma)... once more, the lesser Ezra in me is bored with the Chinese ideogram, it's translated plain and simple, perfécto arithmetic! and the billion-strong populace... applause to the Chinese politicians... democracy as an pure English export is not wanted... it's decadent, and ripe for only decay... please, god or yoga no... we can do without it! this is the lesser Pound... i could be fascinated with the Chinese ideogram, but i'm frankly occupied with addressing the English encryption.... mind you, that translates as: you missed a spot... and they did keep their language so diacritic-free in order to form the global empire... which can only mean that mad geniuses and other akin stipend students will ever appreciate... but my fascination with diacritical marks, or their lack, is akin to Ezra Sr.'s fascination with the complexity of the Chinese ideogram, or rather the syllable form of not enraging the trinity, therefore concise, xi (ξ), chi (χ), chow (χω) mein (μεjn / μει - gagging ιota: main... mejn... replaced by additional curvature of j), kfu mang thu! kuchi kuchi, kat(h)mandu.. gucci gucci... rattler... or pinky on the black key in a piano concerto... the odd number... thus the english siamese of i and j, the only letters with diacritical marks, beginning with ιota being the one under-dressed... and they are indeed there, for clear syllable intake, as a way to pave for the architecture of punctuation, and what could be later described in the real world, as a punctured rubber tire, or a sewing technique, in the guise of tartan to a cayleigh whirl / orthodox scot that's: ceilidh... ****** me, god's a pauper, leaving him out in the cold of nonsense when man just asks for kejl i, p.s. dogged out hound harking grammaton, and some random number outside of tetra.

pst! look in the woods! you might find him there!
music always overpowered my
need for women, i always found music to
be antidote
  to ensure women exist -
               dunno, dough]nut -
or dunno, it just happened...
      CENSOR MR. CENSOR!
HELLO?!
                  LOSER. HTML
IS INFECTED.... now i'll come off as paranoid...
    but then i am typing in paradox
  land...
                my keyboard is ******...
a case of etymology... *wargi - and
pysk - or usta, and buzia -
one's kiss kiss,
      Tarkan style...
  but i wonder why when i listen to
  in extremo's rotes haar...
i imagine dwarfs dancing,
        but then the prancing pony of
hedningarna's vargtimmen -
       which might    
mean *******, but
then it might mean something
in Finnish... vargtimmen: meaning: close your lips...
in Finnish; so bound to the word trim...
trim your lips.
even though the people didn't move,
a lot of ******* children made Poland their
home... for example wargi, which
means usta... add a p to usta
and you'll end up saying: she's empty, barren.
no wonder the transgender movement
occurred in english... words have no
feminity or masculinity... so ***...
they're asexual, apathetic...
   a male can't own a table
in the Freudian sense of signifying a phallus...
stupid me blaming St. Thomas' gospel,
when the problem lay within the realm of per se...
       i have to add: it's a bit foggy where i'm right
now... and my html is a bit bonkers...
     but it still stands as Finnish and Polish
versus English non-mythical when sniffing
the **** crack of America...
          fog ought to be enough, apparently it isn't,
you need to care to
economise and work to an ethic of working
so hard throughout the year for a 2 week holiday,
   and then end up throwing away your food produce
and then feel irritated by a homeless person...
   so yeah... you're grand!
          i mean i am...
the we is automatically bewildered...
i couldn't pet a woman, women are much more
than cats, and i pet two cats and hate them...
     not having women means i am resistible...
if i were irresistible i'd be insane...
      the magnetism of prefix convergence...
   re- means again, not against...
   and in- can also mean a-,
          every time i speak the scandi tongue
like i might found saying the lazy way an english
man says ****-,
               i feel like jumping up and down...
hed- -nin- -garna!
      hey hey **! jump you mo fo!
                     and i live in england and i care to
take to escaping english, that's really messed up...
i can't listen to the tongue... a bit like my russian
girlfriend said to me: Polish is just static,
sh sh sh sh ch ch ch ch... i mean, the best
***** in the universe are done by the people that
really hate your ethnicity,
they love you as a person, and the person they
love to ****, but then the collective unconscious
comes along, and they say the most horrid
things in between the orchestra of vowels during
the ******... babe, you drowning? i know
i am.
            if a yiddish man would come along,
he'd write yzwz... because that's how h became
z in the grapheme sz and ch...
                 and paradoxically: it's not the smallest
sound... and if the Latin grapheme continued its
existence... and was regarded as the smallest
linguistic unit, it has to mean that
    two names converged... it means that
the coliseum will overpower the church...
   which means that the Latin man had names for
his letters... and it was never all about music
and castratos... it was never a simple a when
the Greek said alpha, or it was never as simple
a b when the greek said beta...
vargtimmen! purse yer lips! ye gods, pout!
  duck-alliances throughout!
   yack yack yack... quack... ******* ponces
and narcissistic nuances...
yes, when w = v = w = ł -
               when it is meant to invoke the ugly duckling,
and a swan, and a łabądz -
my soul is already Scandinavian bound...
  like Frankenstein's Jr., to the fog, the snow, the frost...
      if Spinoza is the prince, then i'm the king,
the tetragrammaton just drops out like
a birth of an antelope - it just drops out of language,
but it only drops out, once you have used
a language associated with diacritical marks...
knowing solely English or Russian Cyrillic won't
help you... it really does just drop out from
the ****** of nothing like an antelope on the savannah
plain... but given there's no diacritical
distinction in it... being born into a language that
uses diacritical markings to ensure there are
distinctions, makes studying the tetragrammaton
all the more fascinating...
English uses no diacritical marks, neither does Cyrillic...
the Greeks are cosmos (polish slang reference
to them being on l.s.d.) with their niqab of
diacritical usage when English Latin remains
slap-stick naked... come on! put on a ******* bow-tie
that might be at least the french acute over
e!         éh?!           knowing the lazy sod, he won't!
but such is the joy of experiencing etymology
with music... to associate
vargtimmen... a Finnish compound word,
with the English word trim...
         or the word dimmed...
           and the Polish clear-denotative word
for lips... i.e. wargi... or usta...
  timmen might also mean: to bite...
  warga is the singular of wargi, i.e. bottom lip,
    to bite the bottom lip...
            does the music in hedningarna's expression
say much? no it doesn't...
   poetry can be the least musicological
         when analysing music...
             the best poetry can attest to is:
gauging your eyes out with it's bewilderment that
it has become such a primitive art,
   compared to the etchings in the caves of
Lascaux...  how that's really said?
                 obviously las-cow...
                  or proper: lascau(x)...
            the two tier of language... those who live
off it as noun-to-noun... and those who live
off it as hand-to-mouth... solely verb in action...
    it's actually a great shame that i should be writing this
and having a father who perfected the craft of roofing...
  i feel more an imbecile, and even more a rooster
in a wheelchair...
        so much for having a russian girlfriend for a summer
and an egyptian friend for no reason;
don't worry, you won't write a biography about me,
  such nuances of language with a personal twist
can remain where they are, in the archeological
dept. of nowhere.

Glorious wanderers on Death's celadon globe
Stride- in sombre ceilidh- the arsenic haar,
Mantle of Dis' harrowing of derelicts.
Feral shadows stroking the hollow strath
With crimson paces aloft Acheron's shores,
The Erinyes, in macabre cavalcades
Walk the land, bereft, forever of aubades