did i tell you about that orca (killer whale)
that killed a killer white (shark)?
yeah, flipped him on the stomach
inducing a conscious sleeping position
of the shark, belly up... the ****** orca
drowned the shark.

dear daffodils counting to only sixteen
springs, why blossom why bloom so soon?
lemmy was part of something better
than his solo project... no one really talks
'bout his solo crazy train antics,
so why talk lemmy why talk ozzy os' burn
and simply dismiss hawkwind & black sabbath?

oh -
       *na kraju nocy i u progu dnia
       kogut  na dachu pieje
       w głowie sie kręci
       da na da na da
       gorączka znów szaleje.

given all that, imagine a seal on a drift of ice,
a stowaway of a berg,
then imagine why, it's seeking a monastery,
there are four orcas beneath the mirror surface
of the water, in formation, like horses
to the gallop of a wind's flute eolides,
and they're moving in, dipping with tail
fin exertion of some reflex spasm -
and the mini tsunami created suddenly
tilts the seal's monastery and the seal plops
into the depths... where it's only an old
cloth rag soon to be mince.

p.s. i denounce the polish diacritical mark
over o to make u (ó) as not diacritical at all...
it's an aesthetic mark, and yes, it does look pretty.

question is, motörhead (motoorhead) or hawkwind? given hawkwind's magnu... yeah, the latter.

i told you about it,
about the despair as a reader
jailed together with ezra pound
writing the pisan cantos,
LXXVII gave me a reader's
constipation, hardly a digested
piece of work,
but then the sky was gloomy grey
atypical of england,
and i forced myself to read the piece
having left it mid-way;
well, i was reading an article on
******* and an abstinence from
it on *vice news...
apparently the benefits and the cons
are a debate akin to a swing:
to and fro... scientific objectivity
(nearly an -ism), a ******* pendulum...
tick, tock, tick, tock, la la la, ha, etc.
so i got reading the canto, and suddenly
the sun came out bold enough to
look at forms to caste shadows of them...
weird shamanism or just chance opportunism,
but if you get my drift, you wonder
at the brush and the brush-strokes,
the sun the brush, the canvas well atmosphere,
and the paintings shadows in luminescent anorexia...
my drift though:
the a new directions paperback of the cantos,
page 491... the verse about the army politics
and the exquisite use of grammatical
terms as decisive shortening of events...
i.e. noun: chair, tree, armadillo, bed, head...
adjective: chewy chow mein... etc.
that gave me the giggles...
and indeed Pope Francis told the Rolling Stones
to not play a free concert on good friday
in Cuba...
but they did anyway...
i say, someone please steal the pope's kippah!
it's a farce him adorning it post-holocaust!

well, if you write "poetry", and have no intention
to sing it, to praise some populist theme...
you end up working in a music "shop",
  of your own private library.

saying that... the best albums i ever purchased
were in scotland...
                 english was ****** for original
purchases...
                      nothing really stood out outside
of the charts, nothing obscure.

   and yes, i can enter a trance, listening
    to foster the people's song pumped up kids,
and then downing another blackbeard
   (dark *** and ms. pepsi) -
switching to lemmy kilmister's first band
        hawkwind's song about the partriach
of the nizari ismailis (assassins)
                                      hassan i sahba...
they got high from shish-kebabs and hashish...
               i'm a drunk... and all the better for it.

i don't understand why subjectivity is so wrong...
          i've been watching people stress
science, and the objective paradigm...
              esp. the atheistic paradigm...
              of **** me, the ad nauseam set of rules
to call someone stupid...
          it started with goldfish... only 2 second's
worth of attention span...
                how do you know?
              well... the fish is going mad, being stuck
in a fish bowl, on its own, with no other
fish as worthy points of reference...
    it's obviously going to evolve a coping mechanism,
of blitzkrieg amnesia...
  
the joke hasn't even arrived...
      i remember being apprehensive of marilyn manson
when he stormed the scene in the early 2000s...
but i, for some reason, managed to freak / scare
  two people with my taste in music borrowed
from scotland (the music store fopp)...
   a guy with    greenskeepers' song lotion...
and a former girlfriend with
    gong's song radio gnome invisible...
         mind you, the whole album the latter mention
is derived from, flying teapot is an l.s.d. trip
for the ears;
    **** me... the song ***-head pixies?!
          
          i love the fact that we've inherited this archive
of music...
                     sure, in the 20th century you could
celebrate classical music (as, ahem, one pop poet
did)...
                     but that sort of high-brow attitude
became suffocating...
                   esp. in the current hundred years;
       nothing wrong, i sometimes go to the opera,
and ballet...
                         it's not like i'm saying:
    now, i'll insert this needle into my ear criticism...
all in all...
                    i miss the fact that i could once stroll
through an english highstreet,
      and feel a need to buy something i really needed,
like a new music album...
                then the internet "somali" pirates came...
how many ******* shoes do i actually need?
   or mobile phones?
                             or fried chicken nuggets?

i've been wearing the same clothes for the past
    two or more weeks...
          khaki trousers, chocolate shoes,
         and a chequered green and white shirt...
   does the shirt stink?
            i shower every day, i'm a hygienic-conscious
alcoholic...
          i still use the required amount of toothpaste
as said unto children: a pea sized amount,
        done under 30 seconds, and plenty of rinsing.

i can't remember the last time i was walking down
a highstreet in england...
                       i might, if i went into a charity shop
and bought a second-hand book...
                 but last time i went into a charity shop,
i was donating a book,
          richard dawkin's the god delusion,
            with a piece of toilet paper for a bookmark;
and i wiped my *** on that book, good and proper.

chances are... i've probably forgotten something... A
as it happens: per usual...
when you have a lightning storm in your head...
you wait and wait for the thunder, i.e. the words...
but since you're having a blitzkrieg moment
(just like when Stuttgart did a blitzkrieg
against West Ham in the first 2 minutes of a game):
it's sort of: disorientating...

i think i might call this:
sammeln einsen denken...
   i even have a pseudo equation for this:

english "<" german
    while... german "<" Norse...
        hell... cousin *******... but more:
branching off...
   etymologically speaking...
    it's hard to grapple with the nouns
let alone conjunctions...
but at least nouns refer to concrete things...

colours... shapes... "details"...
contortions...
then again: **** Germany did invade Norway...
while glorifying the neutrality of Sweden...
who was it that called the Swedes
the Polyphemus' of culture?
   oh... right... Knausgaard...
     i like i hate him i like him i still have
volumes 5 & 6 to read through...
and spring and summer and winter...

hmm... gather my thoughts... and idle hands do
the rest... i just watch the cascade of scribbling...
i pretend to play a violin while
stroking my beard...
i just need to find the right song to ensure
i have a rhythm-stamina
i'm pretty sure one cat of mine will break it
with a: "can i come in and lie in your bed"?

yep... just happened... the window is open
and i direct him onto my bed
and as he nudges / nuggets his head into my
pillow i'll continue...

****... i have to wake up at 7am tomorrow morning...
chances are... the skip will come between
7:30am and 9:30am... there's plenty to clear our
from the garden... all that concrete pieces
i broke down with that rented kango... etc. etc. blah
blah...
oh: i'm not work shy...
i even know why i'm doing this current work...

upon checking tickets... directing people to their
right seat... on the sly i noted the price tag...
it's "work" and it isn't work...
i just need one song to focus on to write...
i don't do: listen to a whole ****** album...
i need a concentrated dosage of something...
esp. sound... on repeat... on repeat...
i'll restart it countless times before finishing
my doodle and relaxing...
but until that time... it's one song on repeat...
on repeat... on ******* repeat...

i've have too many lightning strikes in my head
to let go of them: but i need some buoyancy...

think of *** think of *** think of *** think of
thighs think of collar bones think of elbow
think of knees think of foreheads think of hair
thing of lips think of: every, single, ****** time...
i walk into a brothel...
what do i sniff? bourbon and skin cream...
not ****** type of scents... just like:

i remember the very old memes of the internet...
one wasn't even a picture,
it was more of a question...
can two straight guys share an umbrella?
the other one was an inversion
of the myth of a mermaid...
i.e. a picture of a mermaid...
d'uh... oral ***... and counter to it...
the legs of a 6ft leg model with her torso
replaced by a fish's upper body...

           that is truly debatable...
but then again: it's not...

why do i do this job? currently? i could be earning
more if i a stuck to construction...
but that's the thing about working with family:
when it's great: it's ******* great...
but when it's ****: it's rancid...
family members can take so many liberties when employing
you...
          i liked the work though...
30kg rolls of felt... here and there...
tar doughnuts dropped tenderly like ****
into the boiler... i didn't mind...
but i'm writing poo'etry... i need to assure myself...
i need to build up some skills of dealing
with the crowds...
obviously i'm planning to perform some
of my scribbles...
              
but i find an impasse...
the rhyming ping-pong... crass...
advertisement crass poor-aesthetics of the words
being ushered it...
unlike: Aud Lang Syne: which?!
no Shakespeare can beat...

i find no comparison with any modern poet...
i even tried it with Ezra Pound...
i'm left with the tradition of Horace and Ovid...
these two ******* have my mind boiling...
there's no rhyme:
there's that unbroken lineage of consciousness
that can be as both subtle as it can be overtly
dynamic...

****... i knew this would happen...
i'd start writing and forget some minor points
i wanted to add...
oh... right... what's the...
ha ha... of the square root of a schizophrenic squared?!

now that's borrowing from Alfred Jarry's pataphysics...

i.e. √schizophrenic²?
        it's a joke... practically: what's √4² = 4...
which is equivalent to scribbling...
hmm...                            š = sh... no?
so? what's? √schizophrenic² equal to?

i'll tell you:

    √schizophrenic² = bilingual (-ist)
well, the joke follows further... just because you're
white you're presumed to be one of those
native, white lost boys...
who don't perform at school...
        i'm still waiting... not for an apology...
**** the apology... i want the dumb-founded
glum look on these "medical" sadists...
these pharmacological Mengele disciples...
i'm just waiting: i'm good at waiting...

was that it? i put on over 20kg from their supposed
"cure" medication...
and... what? anyone hang themselves like Judas
for wrong-doing...
Satan managed it right... confuse them...
tell them: AND... somewhere in between
KNOWLEDGE of GOOD / EVIL...
because man conflates the too...
   man's concept of law... of jurisprudence is exactly that...
Moses' poetic genius or...
"god": there are three ranks of superior creatures
the mind extends towards...
angels... demons... geniuses...
i count geniuses a rank above...
    stressing: if people used to imagine a cyclops...
a minotaur... a Cerberus... fairies...
i think geniuses are the most manifest
when translating the extension of the mind
toward them: since through them
they manifest in body... Newton!
                         geniuses are creatures most self-evident
from past examples of their pact with man:
a pact made prior with Prometheus:
who... not being a god... could spawn this crafty
cohort of... equivalence? dwarfs?!

i vape and i suddenly turn into a scientist in the eyes
of my cat: the smoke the smoke mesmerizes them...
unusual if i'm smoking a "chip" of a cigarette..
wild eyed, they are...

but it has been a good autobiography so far...
reading a mingling of Stendhal with Marquis de Sade
in my teens... returning to Ovid in my mid-30s...
it's a good sexuality to have...

esp. that time in the brothel completely obliterated
by those 12 prostitutes... a tube's equivalent of
a carriage of legs...
can-can... they could have danced a can-can
folding right leg onto the left leg: folding...
and vice versus...
i also loved the rejections... future rejections
now seem... contained...
i deal with them like i deal with being soaked
by rain: no sugar here...
          i make a slight grimace... i idle my frown...

i have more in common with Ovid and Horace
than i have with these complaining poet-activists
that are "fishing" with a rod and line and sinker
worth's of rhyme: and yes... Wayne Static of
Static-X is dead... join, the, ******* queue...

i know the current job could be classified as...
low "quality"... low "status"...
there's no reason to believe i can maintain
a drunken crowd... absolutely none...
the world is harsh... get used to it...
i can be nice in person:
but when i allow myself to scribble something:

eh... i sometimes alleviated myself
with the comparison to Wolverine...
esp. from that cover by Johnny Cash
of a Nine Inch Nail's song: hurt...
but... i was always more of a Juggernaut sort
of guy... a Magneto sort of guy...
i can't remember the last time i played
a computer game... crosswords bore me...
su doku: fair enough...
i write: i cascade: i spew...
     crosswords are a thesaurus for me...
i don't like sphinxes... or sphinx's riddles...

when i'm open to a narrative... i'm keeping my
"guns"... well... wooden swords...
i'm pretty **** sure the people i'm working
with don't know anything about me...
i'm only doing this job to get some...
experience in maintaining a crowd...
i'm thinking: perhaps it's time to become
less a creator and more an entertainer?

i sometimes walk the streets at night...
i peer in...
some old lady is usually watching the t.v.:
so... where's the fireplace?!
where are the grandchildren listening to stories
of old?! where is the passage of time?!
sure as ****... it isn't "there"...
the t.v. replaced the fireplace...
i'm having insomnia libido...
personally... i want to **** and if i wanted it so much
i should follow suite... instead?!
drinking is better...

that's the glory of the internet...
some of "us" just adapted to it...
we didn't waste time to adapting to it...
it was never about anything practical...
in terms of using it for internet banking or internet shopping...
some of "us" required an open flow of
information...

i start listening to Hawkwind's
                      hassan-i-sabah...
i know the allure of Islam...
                     i know it all too well...
  Christianity over-complicated itself...
it's a "monotheism" but given the number of schisms
it might as well be categorised as a polytheistic religion...
given the number of versions of "christ":
that cosmopolitan messiah...
who moved people from Nazareth to Jerusalem and then:
undermined the existence of the Hebrews owning any land...

a Greco-Judeo conspiracy against the Roman empire...
why? the Roman plagiarism of the Greek theology /
mythology... i.e. how Zeus became Jupiter...
how Hades became Neptune...
proud Greeks... even prouder Hebrews...
oops... Roman script was not Persian cuneiform...
it didn't... simply "die"...
now... emboldened with access to technological
"improvements": how is it? how is it, going
to simply die off?!

i find Christianity complicated...
no wonder i wasn't confirmed...
while that famous atheist Richard Dawkins was...
you just need to find the right sort of Islam
to secure your mind in this whirlwind of
Christianity imploding... for however nth time...

you start listening to Hawkwind's
Hassan-i-Sabbah...
the Elder of the Mountain...
you peer into the Sh...
   that running joke from the 13th warrior...
so... what's your name?!
Muhammad ibin Ali ibin Rasheed... ibin...

    Ibin... son of... Ibin... a bit like Iblis...

see... that's the thing about the shisha pipe and
the "mobile phone" equivalence of it via
the vape pipes...
same ****... different cover...
i just counter my addiction to nicotine with
the amount of pearls of smoke
i egest... exhale with this pristine white
cauliflower smoke...
there's no high: biologically:
by now eyes are not biological extensions...
spiritual measures... add a mirror and we're talking:

and the devil came with smoke and mirrors...
rather than with fire and sulphur...
because?! gods come with the latter...
but i still need a "high" to write something...

the first time i tried ******* was with Khedra
in the brothel... i was 35 and prior to that...
no bother... i tried dating single mums who used
to date single boyos who were coke-heads
who... whatever...
i can become a plumber if i need to...
a roofer... a chef... bicycle fixer...
but i'm not a "bad boy": i know single mums
with attitude... i don't know how
this attraction works in reverse...
i tried... failed... moved on...
obviously i still write about it...
because?! it's a bit like discovering gravity...
or... the heliocentric model!

for someone who has been diagnosed as "mad"...
would you want to understand women?
by understanding women implies:
you stop loving women...
i'm still a Romanticist...
i want to love women: i don't want to understand
women... i want to remain feral...
i can't imagine myself being tamed...
i want to love women and not understand them...
ergo?

     i avoid women and i'm all the better for it...
i just see how they age...
fair enough... men aging is not exactly spectacular...
either...
but at least... there's the Benelux resolve...
some marijuana prior... some magic mushrooms
to alleviate the onslaught of dementia...
in a van Gogh horizon and then:

AUS MIT IHR KÖPFE!

no sentiments for the monotheistic-sadism of
homelessness...
a warm bath... the veins slit...
let life be life!
  and let death be death!

lassen leben sein leben!
und lassen tod sein tod!

don't grieve for the fractured stone:
to replace the shape of a mountain!
for a worthlessness of a: tomb!

     feed grief! via memory!
bind your love to those you remember!
and lessen the burden you try to forget
by ritual: with the exacting memorabilia
you'd want to confiscate out of existence!
of what?! of the grave!
burn them!

we can't ascribe ourselves to any one element...
we are the waters of libido and thirst...
we are the earth of staging frights of resurrected
empires...
we are the air that all breathe
and none do in the realms of the Trident(s)...
we are the fire of thought and feeling
by war and idiotic courage are borne...
we are the fifth element of:
stage-fright... of... caution of thought...
of... when Thor came to a Camden Town Pub...
with... seizures... with sparks...

i can't find a defence for Christianity...
i can find a defence for Islam...
i can find a defence for Judaism...
Rumi... the Qabbalah...
last time i heard... the Gnostics were shunned...
fair enough...

the roof, the roof... the roof is on fire... (x4)
we don't need no water let the ******* burn...
burn *******: burn!

you can't stress it more obvious: obviously...
obliviously so...
   splendid little world and my apathetic self...
since: last time i heard?
there's nothing worse than apathy....
   exactly! nothing worse than atheism when
it comes to the art of making narratives...
but?! apparently the prefix a-
implies: without: pathologies...
   insanely numb...
  insanely numb...
    and let's just pretend: like it sort of
might sort of: oh... oh... oh?!

/and the next "thing" you know, i'll be quack quack, quacking like a duck: released from a woman's mouth of pursed lips, embodying taking a selfie, using only one mirror.

death had a parody,
  i "think" it's called life...
either that or
monster magnet's
songs cry, and,
         silver future,
or donovan's:
  three kingfisher(s)...
man...
  all i really wanted to
do was work
in a music shop...
   ****, but that went away...
but at least i was allowed
to make two or three
mix-tapes for
the equivalent love
interests...
          now,
with an unlit 100s cigarette
plucked in my mouth...
what do i think
of what i don't think, about?
zenith coordination
akin to a concept of zion?
i still don't know...
the band stiff little fingers
contra the clash
via the lame the beatles
vs. the rolling stones
           type of conversation?
hawkwind "vs."
              motörhead:
            mow-tour-(h)ed?
see.­..
   english isn't a language:
with the current bad educators...
it's almost good,
that is has disintegrated into
graffiti...
    tags instead
               of names dynamic...
all i wanted to do
was work in a music
shop...
      hell...
           at least this "poem",
                                          right?

p.s. then don't get in
my way, and the next: "poem".