i like looking up these shadow-people, the labourers
away from the spotlight, away from easy reference conclusions,
Ludovico Arrighi is among them, as is
the high jumper **** Fosbury - no belly-flop in
the competition after... after 1968 the road signs
told every jumper to expose the back and ***
when overpowering the heights -
Philippe Petit is outside the world, the ultimate
expression of solipsism, what grandeur (previous
attempts, the dyslexic source: the graphemes, æ,
previously i wrote grandeur as: grandeaur,
grandaeur, etc., somehow the syllables of only
vowels can leave you momentarily dyslexic,
when we're talking pure consonant graphemes
we have an aesthetic performed,
sheering can become šeering, whereby the diacritical
input overpowers excess spelling of graphemes,
such examples arise from what became the silent H...
or the surd H... ping-pong with the tetragrammaton...
e.g. dhal - which is said with a macron over the a:
dāl... but the trinity of spelled words gives rise
of neurosis... unless it's a word as conjunction,
the tribunal of aesthetic in keeping language beautiful
will prefer the spelling dhal or even daal rather than
what i proposed). concerning Ludovico Arrighi's
italics type... the skewed rhombus alignment /    /
is prescribed for emphasis... i need something to introduce
something that doesn't stress emphasis, but
sarcasm / ridicule... when i write something,
as i did in Christianity 2.0 (two point oh),
i'd change the direction of the ~wind, i.e. instead of
/    /    for emphasis, i'd like to stress ridicule in the
following direction:    \     .
but that's beside the point, it's like a western with
English not applying noticeable stresses...
for example the English trill, or the French hark...
they should be equipped with diacritical marks
of distinction... some sort of uniformity
of suggestion... the northerners trill (roll)
their R, the French used to, now anything but
a puddle of phlegm... but indeed, easy dyslexia from
pure vowel graphemes... cutting up graphemes
with diacritical incisions (safety, in a persistent vocabulary,
following the method of philosophical methodology -
hence my casual use of diacritics and graφemes -
i.e. when graphemes can't be constructed due
to a lacking of grapheme intention - unlike θ and φ -
supported by their alignment of a twin sound,
the Greeks would never consider applying diacritical
marks on p, t, h - unlike in Polish, where the h
is distinguished into a ch for aesthetic purposes -
e.g. chleb - bread and huj - **** -
but overpowering the vowel graphemes produced
their disappearance and the emergence of diacritical
vowels, e.g. the acute o (ó), which is a U, i treat
the diacritical mark as an incision point for the parabola,
cutting up the omicron, and that seems natural
given that the Greeks already did it without the acute
sign, i.e. the omega (the double u) - ω - again,
aesthetic reasons, the forgotten gallery of words
is there, you just have to forget Chomsky for a while.
but indeed, breaking up graphemes provides us
the necessity for diacritical marks,
the ancient Roman graphemes might have disappeared,
but they're still digitally present: mostly concerning
major words, like onomatopoeia - or encyclopaedia -
graphemes behave differently with the barbarians,
the latter encyclo- example is obviously nostalgic,
the ono- example does a reverse grapheme variation
of oe... but modernity expresses these couples
with individual distinctions - i.e. encyclopaedia
could be written utilising... well not a caron - not quiet
***, and more p'eh - the resurrection of the tetragrammaton
is necessary, i'd have inserted the variation without
minding French, i.e. grave accent on e eating away
the last vowel... or vowels... i.e. encyclopaèdia -
so avoiding the French usage that would cut off the -ia,
i'd insert it for reasons of interacting with a h, p'eh.
Joyce's Finnegan's Wake should have been written like this...
instead, it was written without noticing the diacritical
marks, and therefore made it's pompousness known
by omitting diacritical marks, therefore succumbing to
excessive spelling... or the ruin of Delmore Schwarzt -
nurse! scalpel: sch(sh /sz / š)- -wä(łä)- r(z)'t - drum-kit
wet snare tss't like in jazz.
still i need to define the R being trilled (rolling ball)
akin to the å - but of course the umlaut would do the job
likewise - but it's the aesthetic purpose that's necessary,
i guess umlaut designates an eased concept of
arithmetic included above the sound: i.e. prolonged,
count +2.

but these are but minor points of consideration,
obviously it would take decades to implement, and knowing
human endeavours in this realm, once fixed, once
fixated, nothing will hardly change - due to the already
existing utilisation, whereby it works perfectly to segregate
people... and the fact that there's no linguistic bible to
mind... but talking about orthodoxy and meddling with
dogma, i'm still bothered about the Malachi heresy,
how could it have been implemented?
i mean, a polytheistic concept of reincarnation is the oldest
form of identity theft, isn't it?
monotheism is incompatible with the concept of reincarnation,
this is the weakest spot / the blemish in Judaism...
Malachi is the actual inventor of Christianity and Islam,
he introduced the concept of reincarnation with
the return of Elijah, as mentioned in the New Testament
where Jesus is compared with Elijah...
it's a monotheistic heresy... reincarnation has no place
in monotheism, yet there it is, glaring at everyone from
the page... it was Malachi's error that gave rise to
schism... the litmus test of a monotheism is it's inability to
succumb to schism... well, Christianity is poly-schismatic,
Islam suffered an infection of schism early on...
Jewish schism?  you either practice or don't...
you either don the full attire of a Hasidic jews or you simply
turn your opinions toward earthly matters...
and so much rigour just because they didn't care to
roll the ******* back during ***, all that much work
from snipping the *******... early intervention did the job,
snip the skin off and we have the most ridiculously
funny god in the thought of man, an entire Mongolian
horde of intellectuals have been spawned from his existence...
imagine if god intervened when plastic surgery came around...
wouldn't be so ******* funny by my count.
****! listening to the radio and standing up between sentences
then realising there's no go-back button... it's live...
sometimes the oddities of not being your own d.j. can be
petrifying, when you're working against the river-current
like a Salmon of rhythm.

lastly... i guess this is a major point, in a magazine article
some dung-heap of opinion wrote something
about poetry, in ditto:
a policeman shoots dead Michael Brown in Ferguson,
Missouri in August 2014, Maggie Smith's poem
Good Bones goes viral, it wasn't about Ferguson,
it was about life being short and often terrible -
continues with: poetry is the language of crisis, of
profound thought and deep emotion, it may not be
much read these days, but it is certainly felt...

is that all true? is poetry the language of crisis?
i think that assertion is a load of *******...
it's a bit like using a hammer to paint the civil room's
walls (living room, i call it the civil room) -
if i'm reading poetry i'm not commuting or lying in bed,
i'm perched on the windowsill in a quasi-akimbo pose,
sipping a glass of bourbon with coca-cola and
smoking a cigarette, mindful of never wanting to
wear contact lenses or eyeglasses,
poetry is more than this idealism about it,
that you read poetry to savour the moment of critical needs,
i read poetry because newspaper articles **** me off...
poetry is like newspaper articles when those monstrous
literary ****** get going for months of necessary
attention to finish them... poetry, when drinking
bourbon, smoking a cigarette, quasi-akimbo on the windowsill,
perfect use of spacing, i bet most people who stick
to poetry will have better eyesight when they grow older.

what can't become anything like a theatre,
yet faces and masks fly off the shelves
in market stall, none are given the gravitas
of thought, instead: turkey-feeding
reverse bulimia, the sith and jedis?
      i can create a string of oaths to suggest
that it's happening,
   a grand masquerade of "concerns"...
      they call them the inverted commas...
what, like the spanish inverted question mark ¿?
jinnie out of the bottle sort of ****?
                   when did " become an inversion
of '?
                  that time i did the only thing possible
and dragged it down to the plateau of sentence
and paragraph like a prometheus?
         what could possibly be inverted about
the ditto?
              i guess you have to say that, given
shortenings, and all that glutton english,
don't ****'stani me this ******* back!
         the idea of an inverted comma is already
in use, and it's up, not down, as is:
    i wouldn't care as much if i didn't have an
education in chemistry: and didn't become pedantic
about certain things.
   the ditto enclosure: " " = ~ / ≈...
                             and that translates into:
well... if you want ambiguity of certain words:
read a book on existentialism rather than a harry potter
instalment; movies? great great,
      books? i'd sooner be dead than read
on of them.
                 i was just watching this
julian assange interview and couldn't help but see
a constantly implosive dualism,
    we got rid of the church-state,
   we inherited the military-industrial complex,
    and only americans have a justifiable concept
of nationalism, or so it would seem,
given they don't feel threatened by russia's ideologue
or that of china's; which really helps if you have
a puppet-state...
        back in napoleonic times they had satellite states,
now they have puppets...
    napoleon liberated poland and created the duchy
of warsaw, america has israel and the soviets
once had cuba...
                         but are any of the "axis" puppet-states
even recognisable? israel is blatant with connections
to america, they're practically nudist about it,
if i ever need to look at a glass window, i'd look
at that relationship...
   oh pick my sweet cherry blossom while you're at it,
i'll find the next plastic surgeon to remove my
protruding male larynx and talk funny...
water adam's tonic...
   i really want to see, though, how many spelling
mistakes i can make... julian... assange? assangé?
mannuel's ¿que?  fawlty ******* towers:
flip me a pancake!
                                  but you know what the saddest
thing about university is? babies...
  you end up teaching them how to make
pancakes, about how you add sunflower oil to
the runny-dough for the purpose of
what would otherwise become a tefal fryingpan:
garko-tłuks!
  can i ask what the necessary proximity of two
letters with diacritical marks? i know that english
loves that **** with either consonants and vowels:
tool.. pool... poll... pal... paul...
                                     stutter, staged,
     staging, poppy, pop, pops,
                         populist, pondering, package,
edge, age, -ydge... ****'s freaky...
             it really is... so you can have the orthographical
aesthetic of two vowels or two consonants side by side,
but what of an actual orthographic example?
the horrid case in poland of ó vs. u...
  there's no visible stress in the disctinction,
it's just something that ends up being either:
pleasing to the eye, or displeasing.
                               i never heard the ó accent to
be honest, people just ended up saying:
we need to remember the beauty of a word that uses
that distinction... notably on walls via
graffiti... grafitti? cappuccino?
          huj vs. hój...    or what later becomes: ahoy!
cockrels for supper! no, wait: cockerels for supper!
tomato       ta-may-toh, american drooling out
spaghetti from their gobs... tah-may-toe(h)...
and between H and H              a lot going on...
     hard to find a laugh though... you find it people
start complaining... i never understood the
cognitive concept of laughter, about how you might
laugh internally...
          if only germany learned to play rugby...
i'd love to see germans play rugby, just for fun,
and expand the tournament into: the 7 nations cup...
what sort of history can combine scotland to
italy? i get the british isles to be related,
but i just loath seeing italy get thrashed all the time...
i'd love to see germany pick up a tenet for rugby
(yes, a tenet, not a tenant... and it is a type
of spiritual currency);
or maybe the germans are just really good football
ballerinas?
            oh they'd fit it alright, what with so much
shared history; they had a football match in
Flanders one time, so why wouldn't they bond over
rugby?
             yeah... so this old form of problems,
what with the church-state complex, that lost both
church, and state, and became a federal institution...
or whatever it was that it became...
it's something new emerging on the horizon?
   i couldn't say church-like, but nonetheless very
much church-like?
                       i don't even know how to conceptualise
current affairs in a hyphen (-) complexity...
   it's ****** obvious though: corporations?
      yet the state disappears... the only permitted
nationalism is american, so what the hell do we get
to juggle with? evidently throwing only one
ball from hand to hand and "pretending"
to be juggling will not end up with a successful circus
act...
                    so we got rid of the church,
and that morphed into the ultimate poly-schism in america,
we got rid of the state, and that morphed into
denials of sorts...
                so from the military-industrial complex
we have created a military-consumer complex...
    isn't that so? isn't america faking it a little bit?
   ever time i had *** with women i always assumed
they were never pleased...
    then one night in st. petersburg i asked her:
- i'm keeping count, how many did you have?
- 7.
- thank-*******-fabulous.
                     brag? isn't that the whole point?
****** brags about a yacht he owns in the caribbean (
carribean?)... i'll brag about that night
                                                  and the 7 ohs;
but the current situation isn't about a military-industrial
complex, that's why there came promises of
job revival: blue work, not white collar work...
   but once you feed china-smaug the coins
for every piece of work someone else could have
done to a better quality... wait... what was that? desolation
of smaug?            
                 the military-industrial complex isn't exactly
dead... but it's like a seesaw with a fat kid:
   to many losses on one side... say 100,000 iraqis
and about 400 english troops...
                when it becomes too easy... to ****** advanced
that it: literally becomes boring...
                  no kind of memorial will do it for me,
i'm still involved in the military-consumerism complex...
          like: it's so so "complex"...
                          throw **** here, throw a **** there,
and then not ask for spoilt snowflakes to come along.
             if i only said something original
i would have been more than happy...
        but since i didn't, and it's all there for everyone
to see, i guess i had to turn toward
         orthographic "inconsistencies" -
or those dreaded words: inverted commas...
     "    "     i'm seeing four, no one writes the un-inverted
comma, since no one writes,, and doesn't point out:
oh look! a typo!

only one word prompted me: szło,  i.e. as it went...
urgh... phobias for slavs.... she was drininking tango...
(strachy na lachy, piła tango; czarna bandera! i or spanish y,
janosik! hula huj! niby, oby, nie prawda).
ugh, i sat there, on the throne, with my **** eager,
i felt sick more about a ******* relationship than the actual
taboo infested act... family via ****, what a dross!
back to level 1 of art, heterosexual, and onan,
                it was alway going to be
akin to history, and the caurosel... bilinigual "dyslexia" -
carousel... kabbalah in the moment, loss
of fixation on the tetragrammaton...
and i woke up today, fiddling with my hands
like a blind buddha...
that handsignal he is understood to "wave"
about in statue form, how the ring finger
bends and touches the thumb's nail...
and that's to represent a family,
index woman, middle man, pinky a child...
and why we use acronym base
for putting on a ring onto the ring finger,
touching the tip of thumb,
meaning Caesar said: all good...
outside the coliseum...
so that's what blind buddha said...
and like i already said,
in the future philosophers were sellers
of dictionaries, and lawyers were
sellers of thesarus rex...
you mention the dinosaurs,
and i'm supposed to say: you're the lucky un.
i drank in order to remember
that i must forget...
but still my previous life was flashing
before my eyes...
like i was about to engage in
re-imitating it... a *******'s load of hope
groping the eyes of those who,
stranded in the desert, suggested an oasis...
as the title suggest: always about
cliche, about a faux pas... and yes:
an opera...
  i want to be the linguistic orginating in
chemistry, seems i am,
how the english tongue took to
late christainity, the un-orthodox mention
of st. thomas' gospel unearthed from
an egyptian desert... 30 miles south of Cairo...
or so so...
            i might like to read an existential
novel of the children bound to feminism
and i.v.f., and how horrid it was to live
with your parents, and economy,
   and how the shame came,
in pakistani format...
                 just thinking...
my **** said much more 30 minutes prior,
but the i.v.f. narrative and how our nature
was dislodged by our power to overcome
our foundations, and still people died
in earthquakes and tsunamis...
                 but indeed, szło:
how it went...
                and thus my reason to give it ***...
like learning french, masculine and feminine forms,
of the said word,
  szła = she went; szedł = he was dasein / walked,
ergo revision szła = he was dasein...
   and that's the reason i didn't really
love my russian girlfriend, she said
polish was primarily defined by
   ш ш ш, i said huш, she said: шut up!
   the last love and the only and the end, of a concept
and matrimony to fiction.
let's deal with realities... play marbles,
talk about gambling and gamble...
**** it all away... flip coins and
do whatever is necessary, having found love
is rare more than a peacock feather for a quill,
and let's just, grow up.
every, single, time, that jewish ghetto freak
of a god comes up, an all encompassing word,
that can encompass mere noun, from mere sound,
from mere onomatopoeia, into a verb,
   a lament configuration that just encrusts itself
into the concept of a noumenon...
past terms, present terms, future terms...
and sexuality...
  szła шedł szło...
     three sexes, one, the last, neutral...
               and when psychology comes along to play
the game of anthropology you'll say
what i said... she dasein, he dasein,
   it, the world, happened...
                             and that's a thank you
to a philosopher of lore (20th century) for being
able to complicate my life, and
   celebrate the ghetto god of Jews...
  nah, they can keep the crucifix and their
Judas reward like altars...
  all that gold needs the stink of prayer
and sycophancy... like they do in Russia:
priest stands before the altar, reads an orthodox
verse, his back against the people kneeling
behind him, as the depiction of Judas
in the scenario of the last supper...
and you can't even sit and listen to the choir
doing a rendition of Bach... some church
attendant tells you to not sit...
and appreciate the choir...
"modern" Russia for you...
   what's with this cult of modernity?
we are living in times where modernity is cult,
it's nothing but cult, or the limit...
modernity is a cult of journalists...
they're almost anti-darwinist in their expression...
poetry, poetry has to, attack journalism...
i see no other way to go about it...
   marriage... hmmph! шło, how it went...
well... it went like this:
siała baba mak, nie wiedziała jak...
chłop powiedział.... i to było tak:
   an idiot mongolian played the imaginary
harmonica doing motorboat with
his lips and moving his index finger
up and down against the "slur" of excess phlegm...
(a woman was sowing poppies,
she didn't know how,
a man said: like this... and both became
Glaswegian ****** junkies to "feel" good)...
   i broke up with that russian hyenna
just before she embarked into m.d.m.a.,
yes, i'm a happily alcoholic concept of
sanity, for what sanity's worth looking
at other people claim their rites of passage
beyond religion, beyond anything,
as said: only choice, and subsequent regrets
and joviality: if prominent on the faces
of some you encounter in the fudge of
modern grey matter / area.
i can only say that this current transgender
movement is almost as prominent as
what's inherent in the english language,
how words like table, chair...
pineapple, do not have gender in the language
per se, there's no masculine or feminine
conceptualisation of simple things,
someone who's french might say
a chair has male qualities,
   and a table has feminine qualities...
it's subtle... refined to a very slight
           chance of spotting a variation of spelling...
e.g. шło (how it went), and the two variations,
one for man (шedł), and one for woman (шła)...
evidently the anglophone language has too
much money, and even more spare time,
to actually un-poeticize the nag hammadi library...
i mean, everyone is killing poetry,
but this sort of ****** is beyond any worth...
the genesis of this story begins with
psychiatry and the 1960s, primarily a Scot,
a Glaswegian, r. d. laing, coming straight out
of c. g. jung.... freud is for rich people and
the only oedipus: Wilhelm II of german...
it must be a luxury, it can't be anything but,
it must be a luxury to have dreams
and to also have an interpretation of them,
right? they call them the snowflakes generation...
i just call them freud-tards with their toothpicks
for trees forests of "depth".
looking at the way jesus is depicted, with a
void black halo around him:
i'm suspecting we wasn't a big dreamer,
to lift the veil: an imitation of Joseph,
seven lean years, seven bountiful...
   and how so few of us actually have a rich
dream life... we don't, not everyone is invited
to lead such a double life...
  some do, and they have recurrent dreams,
well, one dream over and over and... what a boring life.
i dream sometimes, but it looks like scrambled eggs,
too many: dreams within dreams...
   then again, if i followed the diagnostics of
w. burroughs, i'd probably feel embodied in dreams
if i shot up ******... or smoked it...
  but i prefer a rested body anyway.
so yeah, a bit quasi-etymological,
those "idiosyncratic" but rather specific words:
шło... id.... that it went / how it went...
  and so it went...
english doesn't have a *** in language,
   nothing to decipher whether a man or woman uses
it, unless you congest it with
   excess pronoun shrapnel...
          excess pronoun and conjunction shrapnel...
the only thing that resembles saxon in post-Hastings
french viking invasion are the way chemical
nouns reflect what a german makes of
antidote to claustrophobia:
                  habbeschneizergoo, or thereabouts.
let's just say: language as theory.
   this is mine... what do you have?
ah... right... a concrete heart, an empirical heart...
does that allow counter defining an origin
not related to the big bang, but a meow or a woof
of knuckling a tree... i.e. extracting sounds
and later appropriating the invocation of sound
to later state pointless mantra, and otherwise
read more, see less?
   if we're talking sounds, or the big bang
is my idea of the φoνoς, look... the ancients
beginning with Heraclitus had logos...
or word, until that concept became ghetto...
now we have so much music, and that one
defining "sound"... i say φoνoς, to counter
the science of the bang... and yeah, it's apparently "big"...
just learn a science to a degree level,
and then relax unlearning it writing philosophy...
you just might spontaneously write poetry,
     and gave a libido of a Solomon, but no harem;
gents! handshakes! handshakes!