So much
So much it takes to be with you.
So much
so much it takes to let you in.
so much
so much Love that comes from you.
so much
so much things that I have let in.
the skies is the..
the sky ain't my limit
I have left earth
and found heaven as a destination.

My soul is flying home
and my spirit won't let me stay.
No I don't fly or Levitate I'm a skyscrapper for the end of my days

the light is so tenderly intense  after the storm,
it fills the dark shapes in between my thoughts &
I feel like playing the squiggle game with your name:
one day you might be Isidor who feels the skin of the air
some days you are Yuriy the great with skyscrapper dreams
what about Luis with soft hands tomorrow?
or Tiago, the tamer of the beast of thought?
I have to mention Maksim too, for maximum of delight in your sight
oh, Alfeu for the images of the unseen passing through you quietly in your sleep, like cosmic rays
Liberio I'll call you for the day of the freedom of speech,
once you've discovered the layers of nothingness
or Noah, the new born into a fresh laughter

against Wittgeinstein: better than writing
a book of philosophy acquiring a focus
on a joke - write one that is a "symptom"-free
of possessing too many nouns...
for what is best ascribed of a fluidity
of conversation if not having to:
look for a word?
                               i'd like to escort myself
through what's otherwise a clutter -
to have so many nouns and to utilise
so few... to allow a "caustrophobia" to creep
in and only allow myself with a: "confrontation"
of "my" inability to secure myself
a focus on competent mushroom-picking:
to differentiate between
              the poisonous,
the hallucinogenic, the edible...
    is there a theory of everything?
unless there's a universal man...
and there is no universal man construct...
      would i like to live with the obligation
of a slaughterhouse "exam"?
          i suppose the vogue of vegeterianism
would ease the "obligation"...
see, there's this nuance of expression,
the antithesis of playing Sherlock with nouns...
what's the word? ah: nuance -
whatever word comes to acquisition -
   aired: or the duplicate of ditto in linear
rather than a vertical fathomable-
     (the hyphen indicates
an open question, or probe of the conclusive
word) - what? crest?!
   that's a retortion-question -
  it's not a question per se equivalent to a mere ?
because why would you need to
exclaim a point?
           language, i find, can be as simple
as it's necessarily used:
    and it can be used as there is a necessity
for it being used, which there is...
but there's also a form of language
that can't be used, with or without
a necessity of use...
            you can strip a man from
a realism of nationhood,
    but stripping him of grammatical
constructs: is more painful than
stripping him of a "nationhood":
in that the reply is: fight apathy with apathy...
i absolve myself from the ridicule
you placed in using your tongue:
let me tell you a line one above this:
i, don't, necessitate: to care...
      but you cannot bleach more than
the already enforced pronoun bleaching
your people fused...
   pro... noun... let me give you an example
of what happens when you're
"pro" nouns... if i took you into a forest
and asked you to name me the edible
mushrooms... would "you" be able to tell
me which ones i should pick?
you obviously haven't seen
the freedom of the exploring
   parasite known as mistelzweig on trees
in your native land? i have...
   then again: the Poles have a knack of
making "foreign" words incorporate -
the so-called lend words are actually
absorbed as: we said them first...
      i can't recite the examples...
   but i can say: schab is also
              schnycel -
            it's only tribalism if you don't
have a skin to embody...
        i can speak this tongue -
but i can also return to not speaking it
and being an avid radio listener...
               this, after all, being
a post-germanic entity...
       i can point out an afro-saxon and
an anglo-slav...
                   but then i'll always know
a Pict...
               what is apparent is that i was
not supposed to escape the
migrating economic gulag of workers...
        i was not supposed to express
such: "fancies"...
         or i was... but such was the astounded:
reception!
            so what was the "word" i was
looking for? ah... i forgot:
since i've named all things unimagined
and forgot to keep the ones i needed
having to regress into an authenticity
of household / vocab chores of a tidy
head...
                  trans-temporal fame seems to
arise from: not being read - or, being read:
being misunderstood...
       i am simply abhoring the
"punctuation marks" of a "lost"
                                       word equivalence...
even if political discourse abhors
centrism - a "central" government -
our politics certainly does...
     in everyday talk...
                 because why would you
cite an obscure source?
              why would you cite an
obscurity to fathom the collectivism of
the human race?
                     i.e. a collectivism of
what man could ever be: staged?
            who can obliterate himself to
cite Kant's reading list as read before
actually having read some of the author's
output?
      seems easier to climb a mountain -
and then again:
    the mountain seems like a grain of sand
compared with representation
of the human mind:              ? -
as the body is all:          !                  
                                    for what more?
yet whatever "reality" is implied by / with -
is that i lack a vocation of
an all-encompassing compass of
  coordinating ordinance -
   and that really is a focus of individualism:
with unanimous counter-arguments:
yes, inter-and-intra-speciem:
           there be a language -
and a language beyond any prayer -
to be agreeable to god...
         as written:
   without a care to usher in prayer -
but i, as an unfathomable force -
      breathing against an unmoveable object -
or rather: the most malleable subject -
a bowing shadow beneath a mountain
akin to the mountain casting shadow
   while bowing before the end of day...
   us akin: making wisdom not
the frivolity of poetry: or rather -
not allowing wisdom to become
  the frivolity of poetry...
              i will only allow the non-existence of
the most simplest artefact with
holding an emerald the size of my right
eye, if i meet a hafiz of all tongues -
       until that day: the concept of justice
of man is at once a cross:
            and a crooked shadow behind it.

p.s. better to write a philosophy book
making jokes is to allow oneself to...
               just bouncing off grammatical words
categorising differences is enough...
    i never learned the concept of a noun
without prior learning the fact that:
i could not encompass the category -
hence my "sudden" search for:
              a noun-neuter. i.e.:
                  thing, nothing -
oh, right: gender-neutrality is a current
"thing", isn't it?
   **** me! h'america in a tin of sardines!
eurecka! i've found it!
   wait wait... why is nothing a pronoun
and not a noun-neuter?
      i could topple the skyscrapper without
laying a single brick to see it
elevated, but still have the audacity to
say thing when "describing":"      
      mushroom, giraffe, aeroplane, mountain,
sputnik...
     noun-neutrality...
       i have yet to allow myself
learning the rigidity of a language supervised
by grammar...
     as far as i can follow a sequence
    of "events" that spell out:
    last saturday was hardly a memorable day
worth having a narrative extract for.
- and yes, a Scot taught me how to
avoid grammar - while at the same time
attacking it.

The pandemic, that ****, inimical plague enveloping our world. So it all started in China, or so they say, yet in what seems to me in a very short time, it has circled Earth. Really, that fast, and everywhere, even Okinawa? Moreover, does it not seem a tad morally "grostesque" that so many look to "profit" from the scourge? This is not the way I want our world to work. "Gee!' many will say. "The more corpses, the more money!" Life, any life, should never be predicated on monied worth. Life is sacred. It is not meant to be financially profitable. The indigenous peoples of Earth for the most part knew intuitively that human lives were not meant to be spent on the 103rd floor of some skyscrapper. They realized that all forms of life on Earth were inextricably intertwined, inter-connected. They realized profoundly that all are one. The way we have sectionalized politically our Earth into arbitary nations (over 200 now) is both ludicrous, as well as illusory. The wind, the waters--even the pandemic--do not recognize borders. The divisions of mankind have resulted, over millennia, in aggrandizement, which has inexorably lead to wars on top of wars on top of even more war. And what happens during wars? Millions and millions and millions of human beings have been murdered, a military pandemic of untold proportions. And what if we wanted to love instead of ****? You can't hug someone who is 6-to-10 feet away from you. You can't kiss the one you love with a mask over your face. But phamaceutical giants are all furiously trying to become the first to create a viable vaccine and thus make billions and billions. But that is not love--just the opposite. And what of all the poor human beings on Earth, so many of whom already have contracted the virus, or eventually will--how are they going to be able to pay for the vaccine? The coronavirus is not the only plague circling Earth. Uncaring has been doing the same it seems forever.

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

Cause **** got me terrified
Seeing mannequins
At the price of sanity
I wasnt there when you called home
I am not failing this year
In a skyscrapper condiminium
Time passes
Writting in synapses
Of ocd slashes
Glass, brick walls shatters
Epitome of all that life is
Hit the ***** funnybone
When rolling hashish

Hey, I beg you, if you are gonna break me, at least hand me some tape.
Do not watch me go from crazy to insane
I beg you to at least give me a clue to sooth the pain.

If you gonna break me, maybe give me a hint.
Don't make me give life a bow.
Don't make me build sadness its tent.
Don't make me give up on my now.

If you know you ain't gonna hold me long enough.
If you gonna throw me at the first sight of the dump.
Then please don't bother picking me up.
The next time I visit, hand my cheek your hand and my hand not a coffee cup.

Why do you keep squeezing?
There is no more hurt you could to me.
You really can't make a difference by adding a cup of water to the sea.
Or screaming to the mosquitoes that they disturb us while we sleep.

All i ask i that you reduce my weep.
That you give me a help sip.
You no longer make my heart beat.
No longer make my eyes leak.
And like a skyscrapper I'll keep hanging.