I am not in the business of being you
or him or her or they
we doesn't even really interest me.

you hated me within the first 20 minutes
like a shallow predator
experiencing virginal danger
you have the limbic system of a prey
obvious to anyone in touch with their senses.

you were threatened-
you cracked a joke and among
the robotic laughter and among
the generic thoughts
I stood back, blank-faced
a novel piece of art you haven't the ability
to muster up the courage to understand.

aloud, I said it wasn't funny
which I'm sure your emptiness already betrayed
in a booming, and terrifying fashion
(I'm an intellectual sadist-
I get off watching you squirm)
you know enough, that you have no basis
that the status quo is the stale stream you do nothing but soak in.

you're superficiality is so pervasive
that your thoughts are unfilled, plastic
discarded long ago by anyone with stamina
(you're a carbon-copy of a Xeroxed person)
looking the same as the others of your degenerate breed
with much less vibrancy than the original
and far less worth.

your boundaries have been in place for so long
passed down by
generations
of
generations
of
generations
great-great-granddaddy's barbed wire is the only thing protecting your prejudice.

you're not funny- you're scared
ashamed and lonesome.

ashamed of the person you wish you could be
but don't have the strength-or the guts
to morph into
lonesome because even yourself is someone you don't feel close to
you are so basically human.

I have no pity.
**for you are no Muse.

. 'as for those poets, only the perverse follow them. do you not see that they go too far in every direction and say things, which they cannot do?' (ash-shu'ara / the poets 26:224-226).

call them what you like,
the Huguenots,
for all i care...

   you always side with
the "heretics"...
  
   given that, "said" heretics
retain some cultural value
relativism of other cultures,
namely in the form of
depiction -

    since why would, "the word"
be deemed holy,
    ****-naked,
                rather than donning
a bikini of "iconoclasm"...
         when words... are at
the meat-market of copyright -
what with © coca cola?

                 sunni islam would have
never allowed sufism...
  but Farsi does...
  and will continue...
since no Iranian will bow
before an Arab within the schematics
of history...

          Sunni Islam, it's Wahhabi sentimentality...
so why persist in signing
the Adhan?
   why not speak in a honing like
drone sentiment of plain speech?
i thought all music was banned?
the current Adhan is a form
of music... isn't it? BAN IT!

    you never side with these Sunni
muslims, exploiting Bangladeshi labor,
you side with the heretics of Iran...
these *******, i can at least respect...
  
      no fast cars, convenient ongoing
cultural insurrections -
   Sufism...
       Afghan women's poetry,
and all that much closer to Hindu mysticism...
    
yeah... "islamophobia":
but only against Sunni Islam...
   but Shia Islam?
   no problem...
   i could stomach these peoples
like i could stomach the in-between
of the Turkish variant -
no ideology - simply, pure, power throttle...

i could make a great Janissary -
with a Turkish barber...
         for a great trim of hair and beard...
i'd cast a shadow on some
obscure chocolatier of Brussels
who thinks himself a politician...

     but there are certain aspect of Islam
i am willing to tolerate...
   what happened to the son in law
of Muhammad, namely, Ali...
was raw ******* kicking...

               promises, promises...
no promises...
           Shia Islam, as an European,
i can tolerate, Turkish Islam, i can tolerate...
Turkey is incrementally shy
of being treated at the 2nd variant of Iran...
at least with Iran, we share a history
via the insurrection into the ancient
texts through Greece...

  come to think of it...
whenever i listen to
matta's song echo babylon...
i start feeding myself goosebumps,
reminding myself
of Cyrus... Nebuchadnezzar...
and the dim-wit that was
   Belshazzar...

always siding with the heretics...
if not on economic groundwork,
then at least motivating,
rather than monetizing an idea...

and the Shia muslims are...
    one way or another...
   unlike the gluttons of Dubai...
the barbie dolls of postage stamp
"proof" of progress,
in size, and worth...

   Sunni Islam would have
never allowed poetics to remain
a viable form of expression -
the Persian tradition that is,
far beyond the western concern
for a comment section...

         Shia Islam allows patronage
of the arts, notably poetry,
without concern for monetary
funding, it, at least, doesn't prohibit it...
given the pride of the Persians...
Sunnis and their continual quest
for finding water...
    sure... poetry is pointless within
such restrictions of
existential concerns...
    but... given the current, civilized
establishment?
   sky-scrapers in *******
sand dunes?

         the qu'ran should have
forbidden the architectural ambitions
equivalent to the tower of babel
being erected, in environments,
that could never sustain said projects...

    and who originally spewed the term
islamophobia?
Sunni Islam...
        i never liked this strand of belief...
i hate the Sunnis like
a Shia partisan...

p.s. it's called patriotism is America...
but nationalism in Europe...
    you sure that's not a synonym?
Europeans can't be patriotic,
and Americans are never nationalistic?

...

   well: how could i ever convert to islam,
i do enjoy the adhan from time to time,
"sorry", but i do...
  i can't help it:
if i'm a sucker for pop songs,
i'm also a sucker for the adhan...
   crusader songs, templar songs become
stuffy after a while...
and last time i checked:
     there were the northern crusades
against the baltic people:
notably prussians, lithuanians...
with that cushion of: mediating the
escalation of war by the polacks...
coming from the east:
  last time i checked the mongols
didn't reach leipzig...
               buffer zone people...
and what of the ottoman onsalught
of vienna 1529: the ****** winged hussars
won the charge...

so, coming back to heidegger... aphorism 26
ponderings IX... how am i to not be
the historical animal?
         perhaps in german, in germany
i might become a non-historical animal,
to begin: anew, but with a terrible
past to hide, to negate...
   i could do that: if i were a german,
speaking german, in germany...
but i'm in england:
            i might have some roots in
Silesia, but it's "hard" to not be a historical
animal, an "animal" with a sense of time,
i.e. a future a past a present...
esp. under the english conditions
of: the biological animal momentum narrative,
like a tsunami, like an earthquake...
ripples throughout...
              i can't move forward with
the english championing darwinism every
single ******* step of the way...
why can't they hide darwin like the polacks
hid copernicus...
given the motto: copernicus -
who moved the earth, and stopped the sun...
why wouldn't i escape into history
if the current biological reality is:
(a) a yawn... the cruel nature of per se?
   the courting of pigeons on a t.v. antenna...
pigeons get rejected all the time,
lesson learned, he bows and bows,
coos... expands his tail feathers upon
the bow then folds them... she flies away...
repeat...
    (b) i can't escape being a historical
animal in the way that what the current
facts are being repeated have encountered
a whiff of Chernobyll...
              history is inclided to answer reality...
biology? not so much... not from what i've
seen and heard...
             truly a schizophrenics disney dream:
to walk among the newly insane feeling
like the only sane among them...
beau-ti-ful!
                   well... given the current criteria
of being bilingual as being synonymous
with being a schizophrenic...
           magic!
                    
   now the crescendo...aphorism 24
ponderings X:

              the word designates, the word signifies,
the word says, the word is (heidegger)...

i found that you can only write
"philosophy" with a neat, fixed vocab. regime,
clarity of boundaries...
    quadratic events in vocab.:

i.e. the reflexive: yourself, himself, itself etc.
and the reflective: your, self....
                       his, self...
                                  it, and the self...
                    ergo? atheistic scissors,
  the two articles, indefinite and definite
                                 a / the "self"...

i'm not playing "identity politics",
when i say that only two peoples ever managed
to sack Moscau... the mongols and the polacks
with the help of lithuanians,
"identity politics" only happens in
post-colonial society, akin to the english,
i'll speak the english,
but i will not be a cucked indian of
the former raj: i will eat the fish & chips,
i will eat the sunday roast,
   i will eat the english breakfast with great
delight...
            but i will not do what these former
colonial masters expect of me:
integrate at the expense of making my
mutterzunge into hubris!
stubborness contra pride...
                hard to tell the difference...

and why do i like heidegger so much?
i'm not into the ad homine arguments...
my grandfather, was, a communist party member...
so?
       i like heidegger... because he appreciates
poetics, i like that poets can share the same
values as philosophers,
thanks to heidegger: we have been requested
back into the republic...
if plato and islam didn't like us, hanging around,
some offshoot german thinker / promenade
enthusiast like used enough to,
i suppose: ban the theatre puppeteers...

i am not playing identity politics...
biological reality is not enough...
but archeological reality?
       can you really advance to counter?
i was born near:
Krzemionki Opatowskie, a Neolithic and
early Bronze Age complex of flint mines
for the extraction of Upper Jurassic (Oxfordian)
banded flints...
  personally? i don't believe in
the African genesis conundrum...
i believe "my" people originated from
the Indian sub-continent,
as, associated with the complex:
Indo-European categorization of language;
i'm still to see an African phonetic
encoding system, beside the hieroglyphics...

i, was, born, there! i'm not a displaced
post-colonial debacle between former master
and former slave...
i have: roots... i'm not ******* up to the fish & chips
brigade with a friday night's worth of curry...
i cook my own curry,
and by god: it is the food of the gods...
i'll give the blue indians that counter...
but sure as **** not the worth of mead
or whiskey...

if they only tolerated themselves,
sure, learn the english language,
but know this much:
           english is the modern lingua franca...
it's the language of economics,
forget the natives, too ignorant to learn
either deutsche or française:
island-folk...
                what else, what other attitude?
even the russians are like:
that land of the weirdos? the idiosyncratics?
yes, we know that land...
the only "thing" that shelters the english
are the h'americans, the south africans,
the australians etc.,
  sure as **** the scots aren't sheltering them...
and, mind you?
   if the i.r.a. really wanted to plant
a bomb?
   a real bomb? they'd revert from speaking
any english to begin with... resorting
to revising their usage of gàidhlig:
ga-id-hlig... gaelic...
   like the welsh, stubborn people, proud people,
retaining their Çymraeg...
celt: said kelt...
the glaswegian football team?
       Çeltic... not: keltic...
  borrowed from the greek: sigma (ς: cedilla to ****)...
   wow! all the particulars in the english tongue!
guess it would take an ausländer to spot them!

U-21 european championships,
england versus romania:
                           a magnificent match...
the youngsters playing better football
than the oldies in their mid to late / early 30s...

i'm trying to tolerate Islam,
               it's not in my nature...
            hell... i enjoyed visiting a turkish barber
shop, i still have an unflinching opinion that,
the turks are the best barbers in the world...
but...

              this quote, is going to **** you:
same aphorism / pondering (24 / X) -


*** fight videos - count dankula...
you know what i'd love to do to these little
snarky *****?
the french revolution isn't enough...
n'ah, them hanging, is not enough....
ever heard of the butchers' hook?
                 it's also callled close-up fishing...
imitation hang-man...
   you insert a fishing hook...
and you let the sweeney todd ****** dangle...
on a hook, rather than a noose...
lords of salem come your way?
i'd rather the snarky teen hanging off
a fisherman's hook than dangle
like some lynched ******...
beside the suffocation,
i'd like them with a fisherman's hook entombed
in their hard palette...
         i don't want them hanging...
what am i? a sadist?
  i want them on the fisherman's hook!
when suffocating without a broken spine absorbed
by the neck isn't enough!
  fisherman's hook gallows is a
masterpiece... of suffering...
  most certain...
  when cheap comedy is being towed...
making fun of bums, or homeless people...
the current society is so welcome
to bypass all the "adventures" of Loki...
but akin to the lords of Salem...
burn!? such a limitated imagination!

ah... right... digressing...
        the reflexive / reflective quadratic...
language - only if speech  has acquired
the highest univocity of the word does it
become strong (enough) for the hidden
              play of its essential multivocity
(as withdrawn from all "logic"),
             of which poets and thinkers alone
are capable, in their own respective modes
and their own directions of sovreignty.

we do live in a time of a lost sense
of dialectic, since we do not live in a time
of etertaining dialogue,
perfectly sensible opinions,
that's all we have...

                       if one of these snarky *******
came up to me...
they'd get a chance to experience a rubric
of 4, knuckles...
what's 189 centimeters in empirical?
6ft2...      oh!
                   see where imagination takes you?
and here i was: thinking i was without it!
butcher's hangman...
oh, not so easy...
                  
                fame by no association to fame...
just the tears of parents who raised their children
to be nothing more than rugrats...
annoying gnat like bothersomes;
and nothing quiet special to be associated
with weimar berlin...
     just, these,
   h'american mall onlookers
with pwetty-guy-for-a-white-fly-mentality,
as borrowed from californian
1990s punk;

re-used ****** losers.

mad-hatter's fraction: 10/6....
      0.666...
      well: to the given extent:
1.666666(7)....
     1, 0, /6,
no number is divisible by 0,
every number, divisible by 1:
is the same number...
    mad hatter's 10/6...

   re-used ****** losers...
i like that phrase...
        7 for every 6, 7 for every 6...
until the 0. fraction comes
a 1.: exponential serf of 0...
0 being the multiplier...
          
         i really am growing a beard to less
don it, but rather to experience
a relief from patience...
war robots?
the first non n.p.c. game...
i like that, very much...
      and when i did:

you know my first experience of
love at first sight?
the younger sister of my then girlfriend...
****** up ****...

love at first sight is a terrible phenomenon...
i was nearing 18, she was barely 13...
i was dating her older sister...
but it was love at first sight,
the trouble with: love at first sight:
it doesn't lie...
it tries to lie...
          but it can't lie...

   paedophilia? a bit... untouched bodies
though... bodies of people who were
never supposed to touch...
i once said to a fwend:
well wouldn't it be ****** up if i touched
her?
   she's a muse, which doesn't translate
into vacating her as a busy body
worth of a touch, does it?
     if only my old friend samuel said
otherwise:
sylvester "contra" tweety:
my first girlfriend...
but her sister?
         i was nearing 18, she was about 13...
love at first sight...
untouched, cradled, unscathed...
and so she remained...
   until she did what every girl would
have done...thank god she remained
a figment of my imagination...
   rammstein: rosernrot...
    
           i have seen love at first...
such a load of ******* that it had to be
the younger sister of a girl i was dating...
and the **** that i had to be 18 and see
was just beginning her teenage transition...
the world unfair i grant
the most justifications... as being
the (just - unnecessary adjective) arbiter...

love at first sight becomes a forbidden love...
love at first sight was always a forbidden
love...
           and the sort of "love" that achieves
a perspctive of change that doesn't
translate into old age...
love at first sight is soon translated
into a love of affairs closely associated
with middle-age disenfranchised
state of affairs...
i.e. to love again...
            how else to feel relief from
having lost both one's inhibitions
               as well as one's ambitions?!
in the conundrum of the mortal
"question" of the continuum being
preserved?

I must be a *******
For falling in love with you
And you must also be a *******
For loving me too

Of all the types of self harm
You were the sweetest
And when I wanted to shut everyone out
You were my one weakness

And you must be a *******
For trying to pick up broken glass
But I am not a sadist and I won't let you
Hurt yourself whenever I crash

better than any hallucinogenic ingestion: whether that be acid or magic mushrooms... head traumas... ooh: those brain-"freeze" rattlings, like licking ice... like eating post-accident scabs... hmm... peanuts?! black-pudding?! oats?! i don't know... it's a mix of all... dry blood...

turns out we're all pink underneath...
even me: copper-neck sun-tan boyo come summer
turns pink skinned once he falls spectacular
over: face first: Lucifer's birth... stars dangling
awry out of constellation patterns...
moving... stars roaming...
             we're all pink underneath...
as i can attest: picking at my scar tissue / scab...
subsequently eating it...
   no... i don't care what the scientists might say
about eating your boogies...
i heard that one before... i also love the taste
of nails... i love the taste of female genitals...
esp. that of female genitals that have had
many ****** partners but are also ****-hygienic...
****-hygienic?! oh... right...
the types of girls you can have unprotected ***
with... knowing full well that they are prostitutes...
and still not contract any STDs...
             you put a ****** on my phallus
you might as well choke me during ******...

she wants to dance like Uma Thurman...
  mmm hmm... 4th day running... one song on repeat...

so the boiler buy comes round on time:
around 2 and 2:30pm... i switched on the t.v.
to watch some SW19 (Wimbledon, tennis,
i'm not going to be cryptic, let's leave it in the open)
my next door neighbour shoved a note
through my door... Dear Matthew...
scribbled like someone might with a crayons...
could you feed my baby tomorrow, Tuesday...
Bella... an white heterochromia beauty-freak...

so the boiler man came: handsome worth of
a **** and a ring attached to a ring-finger...
      £80 for about 15 minutes worth of work...
thank god he left a receipt...
    but my neighbour approached him: can you check
my boiler?
   her house? i love her to bits...
but... she? and Ed Gein... yeah... on par...
every time i go into her house to feed her cat
i'm actually trying to find myself...
oh... i know where the sink the cat food is...
i'm just trying to find myself,
   i.e.: i couldn't live like this...
              and i'm being: seriously generous...

so she approaches the boiler guy...
CAN WE STOP WITH THIS BICYCLE ACCIDENT
CRAP?! YES... IT'S BEEN A WEEK...
I'M HEALING LIKE WOLVERINE...
BECAUSE I'M A HYGIENIC-****...

but outright she calls me a sadomasochist...
PROMPT...
      i just need a girl to rest her head on my shoulder
sigh into me and i'm off... like a racehorse...
**** myself into her house...
meet her son...
  tell him: drop the Spanish... choose German...
it's more grammatically aligned to English...
he's on board... bring her homemade wine...
homemade banana loaf... cycle to her house at night...
drop her a Valentine's card through the box
and leave flowers on the porch...
          but in the end get rejected and feel like
i might have a heart's worth of a tonne of pebbles...
perhaps sand... i think sand trickles better
with the aid of a shovel when spreading it...
actually: no... better moving a tonne of pebbles
than a tonne of sand...

sadomasochist? am i thinking out-loud?
i know i am... but the question is...
it's actually a good question...
not Heidegger questioning history via historiology...
that's his buzzword in the black notebooks...
historiology this... historiology that...
no no...
                it's a chicken and the gg... egg story...

a e i o u M u o i e a...
                   a e i o u N u o i e a
     a e i o u R u o i e a
               a e i o u P u o i e a...

(we'll come back to this "problem" later on;
what has it to do with anything?
well... why do the Greeks have names for
their letters... while the Romans don't and didn't?
they "sang" their wording... PIZZA...
PAPARAZZI! AMORE!
    but i'm pretty ******* sure that if
the Romans plagiarised the Greek deities...
how Zeus became Jupiter... etc.
   then i'm pretty sure the Greeks plagiarised
the Roman way of the abacus -
how? how?! how could you use letters as numbers?!
erm... weren't the numbers already hidden in
the letters?! 8 in B...
                          Z in 2...
                                       7 in L or gamma before
a mirror...
                    1 in I...
                                   6 in miniscule beta b....
    5 & G are not facing each other...
II + III = V
                  shake shake shake III in Cyrillic...
3 otherwise... (

i lost the plot... hence the (          open to question:
where did i leave of off?!

ah... right... sadomasochism...

  the chicken and the gg... i.e. egg...
i know who came first historically... Marquis de Sade...
as i know that leopold von Sacher-Masoch came
later... historically... but... ontologically?!
ooh... that's a tough one...
well... no... it isn't...
             the inner drive of a youth in me that
once was... i found Marquis de Sade literature prior
to finding Sacher-Masoch...
            i learnt from a sadist what i couldn't learn
from a *******... because?! i guess i was inherently
*******... but not of a ****** nature...
to hell with being shamed sexually by a woman...
Venus in Furs the Velvet Underground sort of *******...
no! nein! niet! nie!

so... what came first? the sadist or the *******...
i know that historically the sadist came before the *******...
but within the sadomasochist complex:
S comes after M...
it could easily have been a maso-sadist complex...
compound of words...
never mind...

i think i first have had to experience sadism...
born with a hernia...
with a Chernobyl birthmark like someone clipped
an angel's wing... now a Cain's mark...
a nurse at the hospital tried to
choke me... enlarged me heart...
that's the myth...
        i was born as an abomination...

i love hurting myself... i'm sort of immune to
pain... immune when it is spectacular,
spontaneous... a Pollack / Kandinsky / Bacon
moment of contortions...
an implosion of time being undifferentiated
from space and space being undifferentiated
from time... relativistic squadron of magpies...
or... lonely seagulls flying in the night
trying to perch and be at ease
inland... on lamp-posts... looking for the hush
and hum of the battering waves of sea...

so who came first? the sadist or the *******,
ontologically, not historically?!
personally? i love to give myself pain
while giving others pleasure...
           leniency: even at work...
i like giving someone a 1h break while i only take
a 15min break...
and then watch... i love watching the guilt trip...
and falling into line...
ergo? i'm a passive sadist: i don't need
all the kink and ******* of ***-tripping...
i need subtle queues...
just give me a NIQAB and i'll work with it
like an artist with a canvas...

i already spotted the "agenda":
Muslim girls peering into a blonde moustache
and a brown beard... ooh... ooh...
why? how?! they're not looking at my eyes...
they're looking at my lips...
perfect mayhem! perfect!
   rubber-band stretching agitation!

of course they're fuckable... anything that moves
is... is...
                 Somali, Bangladeshi...
you name the hue and i'll compare that with
Caramel White Choc-Blocks...
         it's only the white girls...
that highest prize arrogance...
            the dilution "liquid"... of what? *****!
we'll all be Brazilian by the end of "it"...

lyrically: it's so wrong...
she and you...
i can't get YOU...
   what a pronoun confusion....
i can't get rid her HER...

new term:  TERRIBLE-ENGLish...

i love the song... but the language is the pristine
example of native-neglect...
well... it's H'american Ing-leash...
so... it's going to supposed to fail...

like overhearing two black guys talking
about racial stereotyping: how if you use
racial slurs in England at work you'll be excused...
how H'america is dangerous...
how England is salvagage ground
for racial minorities...

*******! you're pink just as me when
you bruise! what?!
      
i ******* hate the H'american accent...
it's like making a spaghetti Carbonara with
phlegm and snot without
any cream eggz or parmesan cheese...
no... like in Iraq or Libya:
your "empire" is not welcome here... *******!

great for culture... your culture is great...
your politics?! no, not so much...
sorry...

    why is it that we have ALPHA?
but only A in the Latin script?
why isn't it ebb but be for (B)?
why do we have gee and not egg for (G)?
err and not Ra for (R)?!
              el and not La for (L)?
why do so many consonants begins with vowels
rather than end with them,
when isolated?

that's why i adore Heidegger...
he always suggested: what is worth being questioned...
exactly!
         i already made a question:
why is the alphabet sorted so?
why not a e i o u b c... etc.?!
why are the vowels randomly placed among
the consonants?!
  the alphabet unravels into words and sentences
in the end... why not cook-up a revision
of QWERTY as an ability to type without
looking down at the keyboard?!
i'm sure the GP that retired that was
"curing" me was typing like a crow pecking
at crumbs of bread... digit-index finger...
look down: digit-index finger... peck... peck...
who the **** needs to learn the alphabet
when you have QWERTY?!

oh sure, sure... sure sure... the people are "literate":
no they're not... they are just about
able to read STOP and GO signs...
associate the colour RED with STOP
and the colour GREEN with GO...
thank god we're not trying some Mandarin experiment...
you get to look at enough people you
know that individuals beside the herd...
but when dealing with the herd: there are no individuals...
we're not talking about a wolf-pack...
we're talking about herding mentality...

on my QWERTY?
the A is completely eroded... it's the most used key i
apparently use... then again...
it's all about hand-placing...
so that you utilise all your fingers... including
you thumbs...
*** is typing... i can't imagine writing this much
having to scribble death-end-notes with
undecipherable handwriting...
                
digit by digit... letter by letter...
        because in the 1800s i wouldn't be a part-time poet...
i'd be a lumberjack and a a shepherd...
or: thereabouts...
          mind you? from what i've checked?
the supposed professional poets
on gate-keeper sites of poetry?
mmm hmm... they're sort of pretentious / ****...
aren't they?!

oh... right... now i know why the A is scrubbed out...
i've lost a lot of poems...
my fault... i forgot to
ctrl+A / ctrl+C / ctrl+V...
lesser lessons for the greater reasons.