At the peak of midnight
sequined eyes peek
wide awake,
soaking up the leak of light
pouring from darkness.

I am drunk and high
as a kite stuck in a tree
a red ballon touching palms
with the clouds;
Ive done too many shots of moonshine,
drank way too many stars.

I am lit.
Extremely intoxicated.
The houseparty upstairs is live.
I can hear it through the wall
and like a pendulum I two step,
solo dancing to the music,
the rhythm of crickets;
intrusive thoughts in my head.

Welcome to insomnia,
the club that never closes,
the city that never sleeps.
Where the mind just keeps
wandering into wonderment,
drunk on belief,
****** on a dream.

i once walked from Boulevard Pershing,
near the hotel Concorde Lafayette to the west of Paris city centre
300 metres from the metro station Porte Maillot
to... the 3 ducks hostel... 6 Pl. Etienne Pernet...
upon arrival i was welcome by an American
bartender... and when asked how my journey was...
well, i walked...
you walked?!
yeah... i walked... my first time in Paris...
like my first time in Stockholm... solo... in a hostel...
upon landing it really was a city of lights...
the Eiffel tower was my beacon and my hypnotism...
once upon a time i had that pet project
of going to capital cities alone...
Athens... well... i thought: Venice might be better
than Rome...
i sure as hell i visited Berlin... i was going
to hit on Prague before... the last year & some happened...
3 years in Edinburgh: i wish there were more...
London dragged me back in...
but... it's one thing to walk in a capital city...
taking the public transport...
it simply doesn't allow you to sample the entire:
horizon of the city... the nooks & crannies that
otherwise: a bicycle ride allows...
just today i thought... enough of this area of
makeshift London that's being eaten up...
that the county of Essex is willing to give up...
i need to get some urban salt on my face:
you do return from a heavily urbane area
with a residue on your face that looks like
***** salt... but feels like the purest of sands...
from circa Havering-atte-Bower...
a little village on the hill with Bower Wood
Havering County park... oh... i'd say
1 mile from my home...
from there to Canary Wharf via Canning Town...
via Barking...
taking the CS3... i passed... just after leaving
Barking i came across architecture i can only
best describe as...
postmodernism "gothic"...
            gothic architecture looks menacing...
so did all i passed...
but it was gothic tinged with postmodernism...
it was very much cubism meets Lowry...
although there's this very short segment
of the CS3 where you ride past the
recycling centre at Beckton...
all shaded by trees and a roundabout
underpass... the route becomes very narrow
and there are just enough turns to make you
galvanize your speed a little...
it's a brutal landscape... Barking in general
is brutal... it feels very much like:
Babylon with Pyramids... but the sun was shining
today: and you know what happens
when sunshine glees over Glasgow:
it can almost feel like Edinburgh...
sunshine elevates everything... just like Edward Hopper
said: i just want to paint sunlight...
even the grimmest: grimiest of place can
be elevated & it doesn't have to feel all ******...
before arriving at Barking i had to pass through
the multicultural hub of Ilford Lane...
sari shops... halal butchers...
as a white immigrant: since i'm not... English
per se: by the demands of "born & bred"...
& even thought i was the only one of about
3 white, male faces... it somehow didn't bother me...
seems like being a minority has had its perks
all along!
Asians girls looked at you like some curiosity
equivalent to a spice mixture of cumin,
cardamom, coriander... cinnamon...
must be the suntan: the copper-neck appeal
i sometimes acquire in the summer months...
if these people are "supposedly" conquering these
lands... do they think their...
high-spiritedness and vigour will not
wane under the scrutiny of the weather?!
i sampled some of their imam rhetoric...
yes yes... but once all the english girls have been
vehicles for **** & revenge and rooted out...
while the white boy'ohs are not reproducing with them?
where's the revenge going to come from?
that desert is going to dry up...
these people will return to their own
sacred rites of: oculus per oculus...
an eye for an eye... no?
i'm starting to see the bigger picture... the tomorrow:
i'm starting to like living with a minority status...
it's called Darwinism: proper...
not Darwinism upon inception: with all
that eugenic crap: let cousins **** cousins!
this is... how a species adapts...
i can't exactly grow a pair of wings or become
invisible... i make concessions...
i adapt by... well... making compensation
leverages...
if i'm not a white: native of these lands...
i'll fit in such fine: or so i hope...
after all... a monochromatic society makes much
for nausea... esp. when i return to Warsaw...
my grandmother is still living... when she dies...
though... what reason will i have to visit that
old... fable of a land of my birth?
the English in me is already my own...
i own it...
i'm not just going to give it up...
like i won't give up reading philosophy books in
****** since... they make no ****** sense to me in English:
i'll just read them in one language...
and translate myself an interpretation...
that's how it's going to work...
it worked just fine up to now...
why should it stop?
come to think of it... what happens in eastern vs.
western households?
oh you know:
in western households if a man / woman is still living
with their parents... rather than:
living alone... & paying rent to some stranger...
for some hope of reaching some one night stand quota...
then they're LOSERS...
there's a particular spice to this word...
it's best associated with Sichuan Pepper...
that tongue numbing sensation best associated
with: how the French & the English slowly: but surely...
lost the trill of the R...
there's not much to LOSE when the fatalism
of mortality has your ***...
there's only a waiting game while
some people amass more... and have to give it all
up or... leave it to... failed ******* sons
akin to: how the amassing of wealth & prestige of
the Krupp family became
  Arndt von Bohlen und Halbach....
these supposed "losers"... amass nothing...
leaving nothing... all the better for it...
at least not a dead-end lineage... just dead-end
per se...
but... i can clean around the house... take care
of the cats... be a custodian to the affairs
of the "estate": make a variation of tortellini
with a beetroot borsch...
and... chances are... i will not see my parents
enter an old-people's home...
neglected: relegated to merely a dementia
status...
clingy or... how do those eastern
inter-generational households fair...
compared to the west's championing
of individualism when...
  rent goes **** knows' where: Arab moguls?
two fine examples...
one door down a Nigerian couple in their 60s...
their son & daughter still live at home...
two doors down a Sikh couple likewise
living with their son & daughter...
their son recently managed to throw a houseparty
that attracted circa 30 guests...
oddly enough: he wasn't regarded as a: LOSER...
opposite my house: an English household...
the younger daughter will be moving two doors
down parallel to my house with her would-be hubby...
so she will be in: screaming distance from her
mother's home...
if i am to be paying rent?!
to some anonymous ghost face ****...
forget it!
Darwinism doesn't imply: adapt to the hard-earned
orthodoxy of eugenics in tow:
after all... eugenics came prior to Darwinism:
i don't care much for Darwinism...
i didn't care much for the Copernican inversion
of whether it's a heliocentric or a geocentric model...
in terms of perspectives and coordination:
orientation: i need the "flat-earth" model
to get from X to Y... i don't exactly need
a Z... unless i'm... ******* sailing!
but even then... "Z" doesn't require me the allowance
of... "the earth isn't flat"...
sure as **** it does... if i'm going
from X to Y... no?
the anglo-saxon households will fall, last...
when it comes to inter-generational living
"fall-outs"... i don't mind the periodic celibacy
patterns... if i feel the urge to "get some"
after one of my feline companions entices me too much
while grooming her:
i'll ******* to the brothel and get it over & done with...
i don't need a dating app to... waste my time over...
dating apps... i so *******
oblivious to their existence i can ast least attest
that happens in real life...
i'm also out to not crave ambitions for
offspring... funny how that works...
well... so who's going to take care of you?
me... with the proper incisions when the game is up...
i figured out around cruxes on my body where bloodflow
is concentrated...
under my right-arm-pit...
in my neck... all that's required is a hot bath...
and plenty of mr. whiskers und ms. amber...
i mean: for ****'s sake...
reinterpret Darwinism with individualism:
the "premise" stands:
i will not give up my private library collection...
cooking food others enjoy...
ownership of two cats... but still "living" with my
parents for... four empty ******* walls...
and a chance to somehow... merely...
bring back a dating partner for nothing more
than a fling...
it's like that quote i heard about Neopolitan cooking:
minimum effort: maximum satisfaction...
that's all life has to be...
mind you: is it so... ******* unbearable
to not be able to love your parents, esp. when you can?
i'm always put off my white, western women,
they want too much...
they're never of interest to me:
i know what game they're playing...
i never heard of a herd of "individuals"...
sure... rent... but we can **** in the garden...
in the forest... like this one spice-up i picked up
off of a park bench... a Thai Surprise...
we ****** in the garden... so?
Darwinism without a superiority complex
of the people who conjured it up...
can become... refreshingly... revelatory...
you just don't need to line other people's pockets...
i never used darting apps... never felt a dire
greed to do so...
CS3 is fine while cycling towards Canary Wharf...
i like the grift... the grift...
but the CS2 from Ilford towards St. Paul's...
it's great *** Mile End: on your way back...
but little Bangladesh coming in...
it leaves me with a distaste... too much of
Asia... not enough European postmoderist
"gothic" grit.... nothing too much familiar with
industrialisation...
coming back on the Bow overpass
at Stratford... an Asian couple...
let's just leave a tinge of scrutiny on her...
she looked like Cindarella: before donning
on her ****-up make-up and her glass
stiletto...
she pushed the various traffic buttons
and
stood... in the middle of the bicycle route...
thank god i was d0nning my sunglasses..
it's impossible...
i was eyeing her up...
she was eying me up...
her boyfriend was next to her...
eh... the niqab does little...
easier to don a pair of sunglasses:
if the concept of playing poker arrived for the Arabs
"too late":
i'm pretty sure the ninja attire could be made
simultaneous to the niqab...
chicken or the egg...
did the niqab give birth to the ninja
attire, or what it...             ?

but there's a trajectory where household living
resembles little what: investment in
wholesale looks like...
i like to think of Darwinism as a way
to adapt...
to make concessions...
  they're not pretty concessions...
as an ape... supposedly... i can hardly make
peacock remarks... or therefore:
peacocking... years later though...
but by then...
the fear of exploitation will summon
a paranoia in me of diabolical proportions...

i will have to summon: ****! mode.

that being said... CS2 ius great on your way back from
Canary Wharf.... to... the outskirts of...
what is London... what isn't London...
best life in Paris, though...
best life after life's over: Edinburgh: for sure...
in that respect... London's traffic.

jad, or yad, depending on the geography of tongues:
like there's some "inheritance" taxation
on the glorification of a tortured body,
tortured soul... as if: god were to become man...
hmm! a pondering cycle: i think: i don't think so...

i can write: oh this Hebrew "monster" morphs...
no wonder i'm writing profanities...
יָהּ

     ** chi chi: see how ā extends through the yod
toward the H: H being the vowel capturing
citadel of first sigh
then the slingshot of laughter:

uncontrollable...

a bit like actors faking there's no B when
ushering in the word: DEBT...
because there's no meaning to the letters DET
but the B is silenced to enforce meaning
not seen in said...

if i were ever to believe in the polytheistic
mantra of reincarnation
since this life...
only once:
yes... but all the other lives too:
only once... lived...
   ****** brain gizmo ooh ooh...
point a finger pick up a stick
call it the chimp-easy: forgot how to spell
chimpanzee... no wait... just spelled it...

never harm a stranger... never harm a stranger...
never harm a stranger...
playground lyrics from
:wumpscut - bunker gate seven...

during the winter months i'm reflective...
during the summer months i'm reflexive...
which probably implies
come autumn i'm reflectively-reflexive
and come spring i'm reflexively-reflective...
but that's *******...
i'm all these things and not:
thoroughly throughout the year...

i can write my version of how Islam originated...
Hagar...
based on the Greek noun-lettering
dynamic i.e. the prefix- constituent prime: letter
and the -suffix "name"
Alpha is A-(+)-lpha...
Beta is B-(+)-eta
                                                        etc.

here's my profanity...
i'll write: Allah into the Kabbalah...

blah blah... blah blah...

   beginning with yod akin to ayin...
ע                    :     י

עללאה

5 letters... five sen

                 ח: č
                          hiding the consonant H for CHeap
like hiding H for sheep in ש: shins?                             š

book of numbers: book of letters...

but i'm still suspicious... truly, abjad?
i was with this Somali white rabbit
chasing shifts coming back from
Wembley to Romford...
a dog frightened him...
i inquired: knowing full well that
Mohammad was fond of cats...

haram... haram... forbidden...
and the dogs lick their testickles
and the cats too
and we love licking each others' testicles too
like the pristine example of a counter- Mona Lisa
is a woman having a ******* or a foursome
three holes... two charged given pleasure
while the third giving pleasure via
oral...
           hmm... inquisitive squinty eye...
black ink: octopus juice...

yad = venom...
    all these semites clogging my intellectual veins
short-circuiting my intellectual ambitions...
like the cold didn't **** them off
to ******* now this ******* of Judaism in
Europe littering buggering child
******* Islamism and what not...
like Europeans were these
albino non-universal stereotypes who
didn't wage some sort of retort against
Rome...

mind you... the Slavs had no reason for:
engaging with Rome because those
pokrzywa: nettle bushes of Britain were
a fine example of how itching translated to cleanliness
in the cold in pre-medieval times...
second literacy with computer coding:
yet all this barren land of literacy
kept by the church's strong liberal
**** for the ministry and choir, not nourished?

i like a phat ***... so fat i'm getting glitter
pseudo-LSD day-dreams of
imagining i'm ******* my mother
while in fact i'm ******* a mother with a child
dressed in the drag of death...

there's a reason why
in the Slavic tongue there's an Aryan letter
distinction...
no confusion, with the given: ק qaf
כ kaf... cough?
ahem ahem... cough cough?

AL AY?                    i thought we figured out the Greek
of: naming letters but cutting off naming
letters from associated nouns
to give leeway for word formation... no?

so if it's not a story of two Adams:
א and ע...
what is it a story of?
oh **** me... Cain and Abel...
but if A-lpha and B-eta and G-amma
and...
                  hmm...

what's the cut off logic then?
A-lef?
            A-yin?
            which would make a grotesque revision
of the tetragrammaton,
i.e. the next letter: L and Y...

   which are already there!
אל (AL)

   and... עי (AY)

ergo? my nuanced tetragrammaton:

                                                                יעאל

otherwise known as: allah in the kabbalah...

you cannot tell me ayin and aleph are
not vowels: i object to the abjad...
cleverly formed semitic gaslighting *******...

not with the rigours of Latin scrutctures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...
not with the rigours of Latin lettering structures
borrowed from transliterating Greek...

and boy not on me... this pagan soul
from the realm of Hyperborean barbarism...
where there are concepts as:
child form is unfuckable...
i need a fat Puerto Rican ***
and thighs and 36D **** to smother...
there's honour and there's... clearly no state...
no nation... so back we go to consolidating
affairs of: prudence and generosity
via self-judgement toward judging others
as: worth the mustard, or the mayo churn?
on a face to face focus and limited pretense
of judgement settings of exclusivity:
shared trust...

            i can't trust a Somali beside trusting
that i will get him from one shift to another...
because i too want to get home early...
too bad that he doesn't like dogs
but cats are no better whatever the **** Muhammad
the Egyptian said...
funny that... the name Muhammad...
funny if you know two tongues...
Mucha - fly... in polish...
mad - well mad... in English...
crazy fly... ha ha...

for a month a subtle trickle of accusation that i might:
just might... have a thing for thirteen year old girls:
oh man... which translated to:
i tried to **** in the Pacific and i did...
but water is a restrictor not a lubricator
so... dead end...
more seasaw than ***...
i'm trying... trying... to figure out what might
be appealing to a man in a *** act with
a woman that's Picasso's anti-cubist worst nightmare...
geometry...
and... clearly i can't see anything beside
ooh that "fat" juicy *** **** and how she
described rubbing olive oil on her stomach
while pregnant to ease the stretching remarks...

mind you: i've dated someone "blessed" with
a ******* experience: even my own mother
was "touched" by an experience...
Pharisees of intellectual *** dismatching...
*** is an emotional toil...
oh jeez... the burden of coupling:
the fermenting ego of thought mitigation
drifting toward the other...
absorbing her whole: without a self echo-chamber...
the Cartesian courtship of res cogito x2
in what used to be a res extensa x1

but is now res extensa x2²

          for all the thrills of ***... later come the thrills
of insinuation... the daughter is not mine
and is fatherless: dead dead dead...
but there's no widow in sight...
so obviously there's plenty of fetishes to be
unearthed:

18 hour... year... month... gap...
and yes: i must be thinking about ******* my mother...
given that there's no incestous relation
wouldn't i want to think about ******* daughter too?

point being: i like to know that this beast exists
and that i can tame it...
with all prior relationships there was this
naivety of youth and nothing to
intellectually ******* over with myself...
there was nothing to contain:
nothing to manage...
nothing that needed to require a moralistic leash:
just the carnal act and some variation
of identity politics if, only the begging whiff of it
(it being, identity politics)...
but now... after a hiatus of a decade
and some... when was the last time
a man could boast that a ******* from
a brothel was trying to get in touch with him
because what? someone is paying more than
£120 an hour she's already getting
or that i have to work 12 hours to get as much
freezing my ***** off or is my *** that good or what?

Quaker oats?!

          someone best explain to me this fetish
of Moloch's daughter... surprise surprise:
for some apparent reason ******* is an exclusively
masculine deviance?
hardly...       but looking at artwork... Picasso...
a fully formed woman with all her curves
is... cubism... i know it's somewhat grotesque
given the classical depiction: but it's a womanising
healthy revelation of form...
it's form in motion: that's cubism...
cubism is therefore geometry in motion...
oh **** me... that's revelatory even to me...

CUBISM IS GEOMETRY IN MOTION...

so given that... a child is geometry...
i've been around 13 year old before and i can stand
shrouded in ******* shadows and leaves and tell you:
i'm feeling no ****** energy... nothing has been woken up...
so i don't appreciate: i didn't...
appreciate the insinuations the accusations
of ******* a turnip of ***-prose
when it hasn't discovered the ***-poetic...

***-prose? i'm a 37 year old man enjoying
a conversation with a 13 year old girl...
***-poetic? Prokofiev + Nabokov...

                                    with regards to the advent of
new father daughter relations...
only recently at work i had to clue myself in
on a possible safeguarding mishap
with two teenage girls and a father who bought
them beer... c'mon... underage drinking?
in public and not freckles fiasco stupid
at a houseparty...

                  oh there is ***-prose and there is ***-poetic...
***-prose happens all the same...
***-poetic only, vaguely, sometimes;
if i see this girl become sexually
orientating a birth of the ***-poetic
out of the ***-prosaic...
   then i'm obviously going to be equipped
with the Platonic...
or at least i know that the Platonic is a curtain
to curb and effigy of Moloch's daughter:
who ****** her sacrifices rather than
made her father's pederast tongue flick on
the gas chamber switch... pedagogy of giants
via infanticide; or modern women's flimsy
breath on the moral of atom bomb contraceptive pill
abortions...

huh ha ha...        as if i were a Christian moralist...
maybe just an existential... realist? humanist?
sure sure... old folks' home...
just import some Kenyan care like i give a ****:
myopia borrowed from time
of some 1950s utopian-nostalgia...
shy of 10 years just after a Holocaust;
bull... ****!