there are ambitions, forbidden,
for words to cleave to,
to manage hives...

of the opiates that allow
prolonged loss of the dream,
a mother that persist
that listens to that band:
enigma...
but hasn't asked her son...

who are the: the dead can dance?

how weirdly we are
made central in this lesser crime
of the novel,
and somehow together bound...
i...
in that never asked for
a grammatical lesson...
how difficult you have made it,
to have to begin with...
like some pedagogy "expert"...
this your crime your new
"aushwitz"...

you have the basin, the lasp.
my infrequnted lapse
of attention...
the book club,
the antithesis of the better part of me,
when not watching
bricks become rigid for minding a construct
of a wall... subsequent topple...
such be letters that become words...
such be oriental syllables
that become words...
somehow, later...
neither... yet apart...

these have to be forbidden words...
since they are not prized...
beef or pork cutlets..

as i want to gaze upon the moon
with a drift of clouds...
and a stammering...
expectation of a tram...
to be my hour-long-awaited-to-be!

i want the pork-chops
with the *******!
i want the edible parts
and all things leftover cosmopolitan!
i want... i gorge...
for a Hagia Sophia and...
her first born: tuba büyüküstün...

winner or loser...
that all depends on what's concerned
with a win, or with a loss...
anything deemed a win:
but dissociated with a tuba büyüküstün?
is a loss... no dracula can salvage this
tabloid poo'em aside...

but i confess... to heace such beauty?
one must most certainly...
entertain...
auxiliary aids...
one can almost expect...
these expentation standards of beauty
to never incline themselves to borrow from
the Turks...
but dear god: they almost must!

the woman sun-kissing with her hair
is... almost a ****-meal-ready-mcdonald's worth
of ****... but this Istambul queen?
like i once said:
oh i'm sure the english girlies prefer
the pakistani men...
by the looks of it? it's true...
she can be petted to be...
groomed...
but a ****** ******* mother russia
will... not find 'em knocking on 'is door!
so? the pakistani leverage!
grooming gang prior to...
a would-be honest chance...
purge the labour!
honest labour!

no no... we can't have that...
and here's me thinking...
how the ****, will i find my own...
ethno-bride?!
i'm thinking about Ottoman harems!
as any legal-i.q. median man would!
torrent: '****... or a chant of re- re- re-!
there's the love of not being allowed...
and there's the love that allowed...
but otherwise taboo...
that: SPEZIAL talk concerning
the british and the h'americans...
one of them! i swear to god...
one of them is: naive spastic-mr-fantastic!

this is the part where you ask me...
so where's a william f. buckley jr.
when you need one?
that's also called... not speaking mandarin via
the DeLorean...
and no... no harlequin...
no ****-buddy-***-toy...
no neon quiz about the south korean
suicide rates being synonymous with
the lithuanian rates...

bauhaus: or: boor-cusp...
western notions of beauty...
everything mr. spastic-plastic-fantastic...
or else... buggering a niwab of a Q...

it's just a comparion...
once upon a time there were men that would
make taylor swift their beauty standard...
another bleached blonde *** note...
and if... harvey weinstein...
then alfred hitchcock... and those
hitchcock blondes...
"metoo": #joanfontaine,
#gracekelly, #novapilbeam, #ingrid,
#tippihedren, #madeleinecarroll, #carolelombard...

ease up on the blondes
for the gods' furthest fun-****
outside of heaven!
i don't see how... a tuba büyüküstün
could ever become a taylor swift... though...
a tuba büyüküstün is on par with a...
priti patel or a joanna mucha...

or i would be known as:
i'll pretty much **** anything that moves...
or... my standards are well below being on par
with a handicap...
they're just... realistic...
but even by the given citations...
this is me being expansive...

if you feel like you want to **** "something":
you're alaways awfully itchy...
you can't help it...
but there's no expansion on the narrative
for the prime impetus...
that's always lagging... or dragging behind
not having the capacity to fulfill the proper:
peacock...
it's a worse scenario to having to simply
0-base one off...

i'm a european man and i do not find
the european standards of transcendental beauty
to be bound to: a woman with blonde hair
and blue eyes and pale skin...
and speaking with a kentucky accents
of puritanical love...

for some "odd" reason...
she has turkic contort perfections of a...
physiognomy...
which makes me... her lesser...
caucasian...
that cocky-asian... or... whatever is left
available on the platter of...
i would... with my most awaited ease...
cut off my tongue...
as long as i would be...
given the guarantee...
to sip on oysters...
churn kingly prawns...
spit on well done beef...
and... slurp chicken *******...
done proper... with enough butter thyme
lodged in between the ******* and under the skin...

because? the next time a vegan comes into
my mental vicinity...
i will think...
the vegeterian gave birth to the vegan...
the casual meat eater...
surely he must have given birth
to the eucharistic literalist!
yes... the convert of the vegeterian to veganism...
is... thanks to the poetics of the eucharist...
the casual meat-eater...
the antithesis of the vegan:
the cannibal...

root fibre...
some muscle and the same worth
of fibre via the cartilege.

this world deserves an akin: you and i;
for every bad joke told...
there's an already worse moral lesson
to be... not told...
but most assuredly avoided...
which implies: to be learned...
the joke is merely the caveat...

and a caveat is not... a ******* canapé!