Jy hou van die manier waarop sy jou naam troosvol uitgespreek het na 'n swaar dag wat jy gehad het.
Jy is lief vir *** sy jou bekommernis verlig met elke woord wat sy sê dat jy nie presies kan vind *** sy daarin slaag om dinge wat jy nie kan uitdruk nie, uit te druk.
Jy hou van *** haar teenwoordigheid jou op jou reënerige dae troos en warmte gee.
Jy hou van haar klappergeur wat in jou kar hang nadat sy saam jou iewers heen gery het.
Jy hou daarvan om die geluid van haar lag te **** wat die leegheid van jou wêreld vul, soos simfonie jou uit die leemte haal.
Jy is lief vir *** sy gedigte geskryf het wat jy altyd weggevoer het, *** hulle gewys het hoeveel sy jou liefgehad het.
Jy hou van die manier *** haar klein vingers met joune verbind is, *** dit jou laat voel het dat jy die is wêreld waarna sy draai.
Jy is lief vir *** hierdie woorde die helderheid van die sterre diffundeer en *** hulle in die konstellasies hierbo vervang.
Jy hou van die manier waarop sy haar lippe saggies die besonderhede van jou gesig spoor soos 'n veer wat sy tydelik in die golwe van die wind laat dryf.
Jy hou van die geluid van elke strook van die potlood wat sy gemaak het toe sy die kruiswoorde wat jy op jou tafel gelos het, opgelos het, en besef dat dit nooit reg was nie, maar om na haar te kyk, was 'n antwoord self.
Jy is lief vir *** sy alles vir jou gemaak het, so erg dat dit jou laat verdrink het.

Jy is lief vir die idee van liefde wat hierin gevorm word.

My cucumber grows
for a lovely ***,
fellow cumbers, trained,
put in rows,
cooling pinch
of old man habanero.
Cuz she is hotter than he,
in this summer heat,
so widespread her angle--
raising beans a'dangle,
as zucchini and I do wrangle,
for he has a large leaf,
but I have a long vine,
tho his girth could cover me,
I could climb higher inside,
to get to my lovely ***,
and she does not like grubs,
unearthed during their rubs,
for she told me so,

Oh my lovely ***,
*** me up, and bat me hard,
send my cucumber seeds
sailing over the neighbors yard.

Ek kyk na die wiskunde geletterdheid vraestel
wat uittartend voor my le en skreeulag.
Elke vraag is nog 'n klap in my gesig
nog 'n uur wat ek in 'n warm stort moet gaan sit
om myself weer moed in te praat.

Ek het lankal reeds al die stetoskope
van my kinderdrome ashoop to gestuur.
Die laaste bietjie hoop uit my onskuld gekerf
toe hulle se dat ek die masjiene moet afskakel
en vir my spieel gaan se, dat ek dit nie gemaak het nie.
"Gee eerder op" lui die pedagoog se kreet.

"Jy hou ons terug seun" , vertel jy my
"as jy nou nog nie verstaan nie, sa jy
ook nooit nie. Gee maar op."
Ek was eers die boogseun.
*** verder jy my terug getrek het,
*** vinniger het my pyl op die teiken
af gestraal...
Nou is ek die rekseun... ek hou jou terug
en as jy trek, breek ek.

Jou ekstraklasse was te duur gewees,
ek kon nie my wiskunde angelegdheid bekostig nie.
Ek moes maar terugsit en kyk ***
ander skole met onderskeiding by jou deur uitstap.
Ek kon ongelukkig nie bekostig om slim te wees nie.

Onthou jy toe jy op daardie koue wintersdag
verby my gejaag het en my verskree het
oor die missie en serpie wat my net
aan die lewe gehou het?
Ek is jammer dit was nie jou kleur nie,
maar probeer verstaan...
ek is nie 'n onderwyser nie.
Wanneer jy huistoe kon gaan
moes ek my studentlike pligte uitvoer
en tot laatmiddag by die skoolbly.

Ek is jammer dat my ma werk.
Dit is tog so ongeskik van haar.
So selfsugtig om kos op die tafel te probeer sit
en so my verhoed het om aan sport deel te neem.
Ek weet tog *** belangrik sport vir jou is.
Jammer ek kon nie 'n meningvolle bydra
tot jou donnerse sportregime maak nie.
Jammer ek was 'n nuttelose suurstofdief
, soos wat jy my genoem het.

Eks jammer ek kon nie my punte
bekostig nie. My handgeskrewe take
en spoeg-en-plak plakate was 'n
vernedering tot die vlekvrye mamma-pappa-take.
Linte was in die mode.
Linte en ander oulike beursie plukkers.
Jammer dat ons beursies
leeg was, maak nie saak *** ons
daaraan prober pluk het nie.

Jammer dat ek nie man genoeg was
om myself te beskerm teen nege honderd seuns nie.
Dit is skandelik. *** kon ek so swak wees
dat ek nie eers nege jaar se "ou grappies"
kon aflag nie. Jammer dat ek dit nie snaaks vind
as daar op jou geurineer en gespoeg word nie.
*** kon ek nie lag vir die hilariteit van
asblik skroot , soos kougom en gemifde brood
in my tas en pennesakkie nie.
Ek wens ek was nie so swak nie, dan kon
ek ook dalk myself teen die 14 seuns beskerm het.
Jammer dat hulle my so maklik kon oorweldig.
Jammer dat hulle my kon teister
en rondgooi soos 'n vloerlap.

Ek vra nederig om verskoning,
dat ek daaroor kom kla het.
Meneer is reg, ek is 'n sussie.
Net 'n moffie soos ek sou
kom kla het. Jammer om meneer
se tyd so te mors, dit was verspot van my
om te **** meneer sou iets daaran doen.

Nou is ek ietwat geskend. Menere
en manne het al gesweeptong en asyn
op my kaal rug.

Nou sit ek Sentraal in die kakstorm
en jy wonder hoekom ek nie meer
onder die top 20 is nie.

Nou sit ek hier onder tussen die wiskunde "Jee"
vraestelle en huil.
My enigste vertroosting is dat ek nie
heel onder is nie, en dat jy die hell is
waaruit ek nog sal opruis.

Ek breek vry van agter die tralies.

Geagte skool
Gerespekteerde meneer
Vok jou
en moenie laat jou mislukkings jou
op die gat skop as jy by die deur uitloop nie.
Want hierdie "mislukking" ... skop kak hard.

Dis nou die tyd om te babbel
En my mond verby te praat
, want hulle sê mos
A drunk man's words is
A sober man's thoughts...
En wie weet dalk vind ek
Die antwoorde in ń diep gesprek met myself...

Sien ek is nie een van daardie
AA lappies wat skeinheilig
Sit en slukkies suip om
Geluk onder in die bottel
Op te spoor nie.
Ek rook skaamteloos en
Omhels die intense stank
Van 10 jaar se lewe wat ek
Mors en longkanker, want
Dit herrinner my an oupa se
Skoot en *** veilig ek was
In daardie asbak woonstel
Waar ek soos white-trash eers my brood moes inspekteer vir
Indringer kokkerotte wat ook
Maar net teen ons kompeteer het
Vir ń krummeltjie kos.

Ek babbel, want wat anders kan mens doen as vrees jou aangryp as die koue staal jou hande brand -
En nee ek praat nie van lemme en inspuitings nie,
Want lemme maak merke waarvan ek reeds te veel het wat nou oor my polse uitgesprei lê en my herrinner *** swak ek was, maar *** sterk ek was... en inspuitings los ek vir die dokters en susters en die bloeddiens
Wat my leeg wil tap om een of ander sad case se lewe te red met bloed van ń bloedjie wat self nog in die verdoemtenis rond dwaal.

Ek babbel, want dis social anxiety en scary stuff om in ń kring te sit en Russian roulette te speel met al 5 van die mense wat ander van jou verwag om te wees. Want wat gebeur as ek myself in hierdie hoerasie van persoonlikhede raakskiet. *** weet ek watter een is ek as elke een die sneller swaar trek en hoop en bid vir ń blank... *** weet ek.

Kliek...
Kliek...
Kliek...
Kliek...
Bang!!

En nou babbel ek maar weer
...
Want ek het so pas agtergekom ek weet ook nie juis *** dit voel om dood te wees nie.

Wie is ek...
-*** sal ek weet

Bang!
Bang!
Bang!
...

Ek weet.

By: Cedric McClester

***** **** ***
Terms that we all know
Which only goes to show
The depths to which men go
To shame women although
They have mothers who
Get categorized that way too
But they act like who knew

*****, ****, ***
It has a certain flow
On and on we go
Tryin’ to bring ‘em low
But it’s not fair and yo
We need to take it slow
Before those labels stick
Let’s change our rhetoric

*****, ****, ***
People that we know
Use it frequently although
It shouldn’t be that way but yo
Guess that’s just how it go
We use it for ammo
When we refuse to grow
Change sometimes is slow

***** **** ***
Are terms that havta go
Why hold ‘em in escrow
For the sake of puttin’ on a show
Of put downs that’s below
The ladies we bestow
Those names on even though
They’ve become status quo


















Cedric McClester. Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

You a ***,
You a ***,
You a ***,
An nothin bout it,
For more information please contact poison control at 647-866-1219
Cause ***** you eaten too much ****,
So pazass yo ***,
Or I shred yo ***** like grass

Or nah
Gratata,
Dis aint nothin but raw

Washing the ***--
ripples on the water;
    far off, wild ducks.

You don't know strength until you have been a real ***,
You have no idea how deep this **** really goes,
Its not for the faint of heart nor you squares,
Too much of the game is not being sold but shared,
The cold breeze that chills your bones at night,
The dark eyes of other girls standing under the streetlight
They don't understand our struggle or see our strength
They only know the bad and try to stop it at any length
Yet we all share the same vision with similar goals
Inspired to stay down by his game that has no holes
We have all been given instructions to carry out fast
Breakin a trick make him give you his very last
Show him your down for him add it up
He will take care of your trap and stack it up
Every real 304 stands up when her folks is around
Every real p loves a real one who's down for his crown
Some say its silly to pay a **** your hard earned doh
But it races through our veins so when he sends me I go
Maybe I'm a dreamer and he is the merchant of dreams
And I am investing in our future crazy as it seems
But when he speaks I believe in the words that are spoken
And I make sure that I don't get too deep in my emotions
A **** is a born and from day one he is already game
To build himself a stand up *** and and get his fortune and fame.
So a message out to those of you who don't know
They say pimpin ain't easy but it takes true strength to be a real ***.

Warning: Writing slightly explicit
These hoes ain't loyal....Hmmmmm!
My thoughts:

Now I love this song,
but something must be said
These hoes ain't loyal
But she was in your bed
Talking all this ****
Bout a purse
And 9
But you weren't thinking this
Working your 5
Licking her spine
Telling her you love her
And this *** is mine
Acting like a saint
Yet you da one who knew
Huggin in your bed
Calling her your Boo
Oh, she da ***?
***** what the **** is you?
Yet she da one texting
Thinking on you
Maybe you don't understand
Words got you confused
Looking for a man
One without abuse
No games no lies
Tired of being used
You calling her a ***
But she the one you choose
Over and over
Your familiar chick
You trust, you lust
You lick her ****
Yea fine
Spit it ... ***
But every single time
It takes two you know
Even from behind....

And if she is that
Own up to it too
You ain't the only one
******* with a ***
Rotate, Flipped....
You's a *** too....

©MV

.i have come to realiße that... it's not so much what you write about... but the mere fact of writing... i can't imagine myself being subjected to something, like a narrative, or furthering a character study... i can be the object of whatever is whimsical enough to come into my head of its own accord - i want to forget forcing something to come into this puncture, this dam, this incision that i am coordinating... and it's not that i'm objecting to something, but i am not going to subject myself to - no more than a whim, of its own desires... with no attached: i think so too... it's not about what i write anymore: it's the fact that i write... if i'll be able to spew 3 thousand words tonight... i'll be content... because... i know that i have crossed the threshold of not being left "satisfied": nonetheless constipated by an instagram haiku... mind you... that's a very troubling hindsight note you have in there... wouldn't an object the size of the earth... in a vacuum of space... create its own winds to imitate movement? there is no wind on the moon... yes... and we're talking hindsight from 420BC... the moon landing happened in the 20th century... let's give it some times before that becomes an obvious hindsight too... do you feel movement - rotating - did the turkish dervishes help at all?

the fine line between: competition and corporation,
otherwise known as a: very, very, naive poo'em...

by a definition alone:
it's not so much concerning whether this
would ever become a capitalism vs.
a communism "debate"...

after all - i'm ref. walking a tight-rope...

of the latter, verbatim:
'an association of individuals,
created by law or under authority of law,
having a continuous existence independent
of the existences of its members
and powers and liabilities distinct from
those of its members'...

can i just point out, foremost,
in an environment of competition laws can be bent...
to add to: the spectacle...
the athletics doping scandals:
it's within a spirit of competition...
the sprinters are not corporating for give
a spectacle... they are competing...
for the the spectacle...
ask me again the difference between...
what used to be a competitive event
done during leisure hours...
and what was a leisure event akin
to reading...
and ask me again: the difference between
taking part in the event of competing...
and watching a competition -
and what had to be involved to give
the spectacle its architecture...
i don't think it was so much competition
as it was corporation... never mind for now...

after all... how many times have laws
been bent when watching a football match?
the passing of law is hardly an objective
crux that so many "rational" and logic-"riddled"
people stress - can be made by one man...
sure... laws in vivo - science and what not...
these objective safety-nets...
that can lead to endless to-and-fro...
but i hardly think... man is capable of passing
objective laws: in vitro... notably in -
           in unum: omni...
unless that's a schizophrenic metaphor...
which is already a metaphor when
tested on a bilingual brain...

how many people did it take...
to pass: the earth rotates around the sun?

the heliocentric model...
genesis in the west from philolaus,
heraclides ponticus,
pythagoras (hindsight...
wouldn't an object moving in
a vacuum of space... create winds of
its own?)
aristarchus of samos,
then onto philolaus of croton -
anaxagoras; whoever was
debunked by ptolemy... then so many years...
until enough time passed...
before people could take the plunge and
be certain: for old time's sake with
copernicus - well the people have been sleeping
for long enough...
enough time has passed and we can pass...
this objective truth... that the heliocentric
model is true and that the pharaohs held
no authority as the sons of the sun
in the static geocentric model...
likes Xerxes ordering the sea to the be whipped
to calm down... and become a lake...
some pharaoh must have had a wild
idea telling a sand dune to stop moving
or seeing some mt. sinai said: shrink!
so instead be said: let's build us a... perfect pyramid...
a mountain that looks... geometric from
both afar and near!

or at least that's what Homer would have
said when visiting Giza: Δ'uh!

so a single man is somehow justified
in passing an objective truth?
unless the mob encores...
but what about the jury - a trial without a jury
is any trial at all...
murky ground if you ask me...
i don't expect man to pass...
judgement for a universal equilibrium...
but what i do expect is that:
he doesn't think he's capable of this: grandiosity!
clearly he's not... the objective reality
of falling... the subjective: i'm right as
allocated the status judge: therefore i'm standing still.

competition in a medical environment...
only in the realm of psychiatry...
and the mine-field of misdiagnosed misfortunes...
but i hardly think... competition is a catalyst
for getting surgery done...
corporation, yes...
among farmers? a rare treat....
a hobby pursuit for a selected fraction of
the crop... the dear-to-my-heart "g.m." tomato...
but all the other tomatoes... need to be harvested...
but this my pet-tomato... which needs to be:
THIS BIG! another matter...

sport and competition...
but work... and competition?
no wonder work and competition,
rather than corporation gives end results as...
who's wearing the most trendy sneakers?
who's social media account requires...
the most editing? who's child is the one with
the smartphone? etc. etc.

the bait of the poo'em is that it's naive:
but i think it is - so there's that to begin with...

i still can't fathom that "capitalism" was solely
promulgated on competition -
i'm still having to address the "model" as...
having to retain a "socialist" aspect akin to corporation
to get away with... what later became:
an all out economic "war" of competition...

naive utopian of me to somehow huddle
at the fireplace of corporation...
work - if so many people hate their work...
what would be the only gratifying
alleviation? and i'm pretty sure some places of work
are less about competition: and more about
corporation - as i write this...
the british national health service...
some people will compete by cutting corners...
competition will lead to doping scandals...
competition is... an Elisium for the few
and... a crab-bucket for the some...
call them the 10% cliff-hangers...

i've noticed it in poetry... slam poetics...
what not... this affair is already riddled with too many
****-up ****-wit window-lickers:
of which i am primo...
but i don't think it necessary to compete...
this was never about competition...
not every work is required to be
tinged with competition...
sometimes... it's just better to corporate...
do... undertakers compete?
do... postmen compete?
last time i heard: each is allocated his volume
of letters... it doesn't matter whether
he finishes his chores before the other postmen...
no postman is stupid enough
to take up someone else's allocated letters...
the first finishes his chores sooner...
the latter works overtime without pay...
it's a corporation of endeavours...
all the same... but there is no need to give these
postmen running orders when
they can walk the ******* mile...

competition within the realm of sport is one
thing... i guess a long time ago...
some people engaged in competition: sports...
to escape the general lagging begin plateau
of corporation... Rome wasn't build in
a single day... others dedicated themselves to
slouch and sloth of expanding the cranium
by reading a book...

the naive is still the bait...
is conscripting in an army...
about competition... or following orders and hierarchy
and therefore: not solely about corporation?
hierarchy you ask...
well... wouldn't that be something borrowed from
plutocracy / nepotism?
competition in an army environment...
what if you're in the royal guard
competing at what... shooting more blanks
into the sky expecting to shoot down the moon
at a wrestling-match fake
of staging of a state funeral?!
the cannons sounded... and that's all these
ever did... they were shooting with
empty wallnut shells! the wallnuts were
eaten by gunpowder gremlins long ago...
before the pomp & circumstance was shot
with: aenemic *****...

this is not a capitalism vs. a communism
debate... communism was riddled with nepotism...
come to think of it...
capitalism is not there yet...
but it's already there...
from what i've heard...
capitalism as this utopia ideal is not a meritocracy:
exceptions are made...
cicero was an exception of the roman empire
under nero...
exceptions and genetic freaks...
is this still a naive poem?

i can understand where competition works -
notably in what jobs it might work...
but most jobs require a stable work ethic
of corporation...
perhaps all self-employed entrepreneurs...
"perhaps" have no corporation in mind...
to a greater degree of orientating themselves...
in that corporation is: outside the bracket...
if everyone was suddenly...
self-employed... there would be no fear of...
the robotic onslought to come...
at least then... the microcosm would open...
and there would no longer be any employees...
just self-employed facets of...
"corporations in name only"...
which they already are...
corporations in name only...
given that... the corporations are no longer
competing with each other...
they have consolidated on a monopoly...
and since they are no longer competing with each
other... they have designated their former...
inter-competition into a hierarchal intra-competition
of "employees"...

can a bus driver, or a tube train operator compete?
by law... you can only drive a bus for 8 hours...
to operate a tube train... you can do X number of hours...
and these include breaks... necessary breaks...
can you find competition in these:
ultra-corporative environments? no!
capitalism might think it is necessary to scare everyone
into: the robots are coming! time to be self-employed
and compete! compete!
but some jobs are still: primed to corporation!

could i ever see undertakers competing?
in times of a spiked demand - during a plague...
what is healthy in sport -
is not necessarily healthy in a workplace -
after all... most people detest earning money -
it's a chore - mind you: do i enjoy writing poo'etry?
am i being paid for writing it?
no... i am "volunteering"... for the love of
the art... for ****'s sake... nothing more!
nothing less!

is this still a naive poo'em: yes... sorry...
i forgot to be caustic and there's no rhyme... my bad...
but this is not a capitalism vs. communism
tirade... from the yoke of the soviet union...
i learned from my mother that...
flues weren't really that prominent...
not until the 1970s...
by then it was a common theme...
biological warfare... while the crown-virus has
yet to claim a life outside of the mandarin
genetics: in the age of propaganda journalism:
you hear a "truth" one day...
three days later you're singing along to your
own "biased" / solipstic narrative...
after a while you have to adopt the "autism"
of solipsism: the world can only bite so much
out of you... you have to turn to standards of delusion
to match to their: from the many, one...

in sport, competition is the "zeitgeist":
it's not a metaphor, it's a misnomer...
but given the " " ditto brackets - i'm tired of looking
for the: "required" word... sometimes...

by the 5th definition of competition...
it's not as direct as corporation, competition
needs to borrow from an -ology...
again, verbatim: 'rivalry between two or more
persons or groups for an object desired in common,
usually resulting in a victor and
a loser but not necessarily involving
the destruction of the latter' -

what is untrue about this is that...
the destruction of the latter is paramount...
at least these days...
am i to believe that capitalism was not,
not ever, tinged with a belief in corporation...
that it was always, somehow, only about
competition?
what was communism born from?
when did the abolishment of serfdom happen
in russia? 1861...
the abolishment of slavery happened
in england in 1865... 4 years after...
but... but!
in russia? the slaves were thought of as...
people from within russia...
in england? the slaves? en route a trade from
one foreign place to another...
wow!
all slavery: either foreign, or domestic...
and to think that communism was a "failure"...
hard to imagine... truly hard to imagine...
given that... communism was born...
4 years prior to slavery in general was abolished...
of foreign to become "nationals"...
what does english he-he-history tell us about
native slaves? four years prior to the slaves
moved from africa to the cotton candy fields...
there were slaves that were not: ***** out of africa...

reperations who's who?!
why didn't capitalism bloom in russia...
why will it never bloom - oligarchs and...
currency of modern western capitalism:
nepotism...
who is jared kushner?
mr. cushions mr. cushtie...
mr. minted in: network baron...
slavery was abolished on the international scale
in england in 1865... four years after...
internal slavery was abolished in russia... 1861...
isn't that the sort of wow you were expecting?!
so when was slavery-slavery abolished
in england?
again... if internal slavery was abolished in russia...
4 years after slavery on an international
stage was abolished...
communism was a failure because: per se...
or... was communism supposed to be...
a short-cut attempt to catch up to capitalism?
was it a failure in catching up to capitalism?
in the 2008 financial clash...
where was Poland? recession free...
again... communism was a failure per se...
but... was it a failure in terms of catching up
to capitalism?
to me... it's still catching up...
when again... we're talking... freeing people...
only 4 years prior to people who would
otherwise still be... rummaging the romances
of Kenya and seeing no albino tourists sipping
brandy on their shores...
perhaps better for the whole load of us...

i ask, again, in my naive way...
that's the difference between competition and corporation?
not much...
a football team needs to compete with other football teams,
but it needs a corporative methodology behind it...
you can sometimes spot a maverick who wants
to be the solipsist in the team and become
nothing more than the top goal-scorcer -
then again: a kevin de bruyne and the number of assists...

if there was to be a level playing field...
everyone was to be self-employed...
what fear from robots?
competition on a ford's:
each man is a cog in the assembly line...
you can't compete... were you supposed to?
i thought that the only reason sport
was fun was to be compete and corporate...
it wasn't solely about competing:
not even in tennis are you ever competing...
unless you're serving a ****-ace...
competing but also corporating:
for the spectacle: with 19shot rallies...

to reiterate: this is a really naive poo'em...
is has to be!
- again... before capitalism became this hell-scape
spiral of: fear of robotics / a.i.:
let's just see if we get enough self-employed
people on board...
oh sure: the self-employed undertaker...
the self-employed bus-driver...
i'm sure there was, what's not called:
a "healthy spirit of competition" in work related
niches of existence...

i'm an alcoholic living among workaholics...
not a pretty sight... believe me...

i'm sure that capitalism... must have began
with: a "healthy spirit of corporation"...
that one henry ford would benefit more than
all the assembly line workers: fine...
the brains is allowed the conscious efforts
to move the eyes, close them,
use the jaw... bite... do magic with the tongue...
the liver has no knowledge of alcohol...
the heart isn't exactly aware of either veins
or arteries... fine... a henry ford cigar can get
away with thinking he's not adding
a chimney to the whole affair...
or a rhine-valley load of chimneys...
the stomach doesn't know what taste is...
sure as **** the small intestine knows
what it feels like to be a woman:
should it find itself unfortunate to have
a hitchhiker tapeworm attached to it... etc. etc.

but i imagine the capitalism had a sense of
corporation before...
it worked too many psychopathic sport analogies
into itself... precursor to the fear
or a.i. robbing people of their jobs?
testing people in a self-employed job market...
again: oh sure... the self-employed undertaker...
the self-employed busdriver!
perhaps a self-employed cabbie...
a self-employed surgeon?
how would that work?

        what's that? the cult leader... would not find
a job status match... in a corporate market of ideas?
then a ******* maverick he is...
esp. with such dates as: the brian jonestown
massacre hovering over his head!

perhaps i am naive is reiterating:
work implies corporation rather than competition,
in that work implies chores...
i've seen this in my father -
he doesn't underand household chores
on the basis on corporation -
he understands them on the basis of competition...
and he's to somehow... take pleasure
in the "free bread and circus"...
when the circus is not what it used to be?
once upon a time: the circus involved
men... who were footballers...
but they also did part-time metallurgy work...
they would clock in at a certain hour...
then be let off work to play a football match...
they weren't paid: professional:
disappropriate wages...
because their "work"... was over-inflated
by the gambling syndicate dicta...

there was a utopia in Poland...
it lasted for... roughly 30 years... from 1945
through to 1975... after that the herrings
didn't want to be pickled...
the baltic sea started to boil and the fish
strarted to froth at the mouth...
it's not a nostalgia segment: i was born in 1986...
this is mythology: curating the temporal
standards of modern journalism...
history: what time ago?
50 years? elvis was abducted by aliens...
n'esst ce pas?!

slam poetry competition with fellow:
poo'em eaters...
can i jut take the armchair with Horace?
i don't feel like competing...
what am i competing for?
volume... a new YA novel?
i will not ***** language...
even if it is a language i acquired:
and it's not a tattoo native first come first served
expression...
this is not a capitalism vs. communism
affair...

all the: towel in champions of capitalism
have made it clear:
start a traditional family, start a farm...
milk some goats...
pluck some eggs... living the dream:
brown fingers and all...
                       way way out from competition
in the workplace...
so... no need to corporate...
solo does it...
                                and if i'll be needing some
milk... i'll likewise claim: an autistic
pension and enough barren land to feed
goats organic glue and toilet paper that
magically morph into... a propaganda poster...

olim truncus eram ficulnus, inutile lignum:
once i was a stump of fig,
a wood without use... this is my best Horace:
thank you, goodnight...

what is to be competed for?
rather: what it to be retained, kept, status quo
enclosed... this pride for corporation?
competition in the workplace can only go as far...
not all professions can allow competition...
some will forever retain their base:
corporation...
to compete outside the realm of sport...
sport... those with enough awareness
of the body would pursue it...
those with a bit more brain in tow...
wouldn't... the ghost limb terms:
there's nothing of note
when it comes to competing with i.q. in
mind... or corporating...
there's this ancient feat of "solipsism" and
self-bettering... rather than running
the "expected" mile...
was capitalism always this:
chicken-shack-shackled into... wishing to squeeze
out drinking water... from pig ****?

again... this is not as easy give-away
that it's a capitalism versus communism base scrutiny...
all the eastern european laid-deeds have made it into
their chandelier filled land-allotement sights of
better ****** that gynocentrism...
i don't mind...
      yes... because among the bulgarian strip-party
i'm the ottoman janissary turned
well spoken sheikh... when morocco is given...
a fictional name... and i'm the Ali
that rubs Muhammad's lamp and
averts the... most ****** schism...
oh sure... Islam would be a pure religion...
and they would be allowed to complain about
porky-pies...
but... you see... how long did it take
for a schism to emerge between the orthodox grees
and tha catholic italians?
how long did the islamic schism take
to grovel and dig trenches?
not that much...
after all... Shia... Persians... Ali Woke-oh-Haram...
and the ****'ite... the ***** muslims...
the Saudi bin-Ladens...
well... that schism... didn't take that long...
some whisper about a schism in the monotheism
of the hebrews...
ha ha! i write ha ha... but even i have to laugh
out loud... a monotheism an inbreeding
of something more than genes...
fix the idea... and continue!

by now even i know that christianity has reached
a status of polytheism...
it's the same jesus... sure sure...
via no other than the orthodox,
the catholic, the protestant (calvinist, lutheran)
standards... or the baptists... or the jay-***-***-V-and-G
standards...
next thing you know: the vegans are
the gnostic monks!
because it has to be a joke at this point...
if christianity is a monotheism...
i'm mother theresa and that albanian
that stole george w. bush' mickey mouse's watch
on a state visit...
so to complete the holy trinity...
i'll be... alastair campbell... always for the giggles...

an alcoholic among workaholics...
who always had the satan's postbox concerning
the niqab... the same ones who were to be always
quoted: the beast from the east...
jesus is coming! look busy!

i mean... no need to look busy...
when the high a tide is making a comeback...
would you believe it?
if you saw the words... united kingdom...
england, scotland, wales... ireland...
that this was not moldova?
this is a language these are letters so arranged...
by an island-dwelling folk?
if you're the first, driver...
shotgun! who are we smuggling in the passenger
seats behind us?

imagine my surprise at the rereading,
with the typo: a missing (s) in letter()
and a missing (d) in arrange(d)...
i call them... the lost key of solomon...
or my own personal, hybrid,
hard-on...
oh god kept me with a phallus...
while giving all the angels a proper chopper
of the ol' wood... **** to stump...
i'm the one that wasn't circumcised!

and all i now have to sing about... is...
a forest of pines! a forest of pines!
pines pines pines! yippy caye!