Skipper Kevin Sinfield
Rugby League man who’d never yield.
Inspiration to his team,
Leeds Rhinos: Living the Dream.

Paul Butters

that's the beauty of music: music will never lie to you... music can't lie to you... when Thundercat was supporting Red Hot Chilly Peppers i tried to think: please make this sound as vanguard as Miles Davis' ******* Brew... please please... nope... can't stomach this stuff... music can't lie to you... just like today... i was surrounded by people who genuinely enjoyed Ed Sheeran... me? i tried not to yawn... but i was... yawning with my mouth closed... i could only pick out two songs i really liked... SHIVERS and... before today: i wouldn't have guessed it... but Ed started explaining that his first success was more as a song-writer than a musician / entertainer... i would have never guessed that he wrote the song LOVE YOURSELF for Justin Bieber... maybe that's what was so weird... because i love the song... maybe that's why i didn't mind Justin Bieber singing it... because it was actually written by Ed... but that's it... two songs... music will never lie to you... music is the highest authenticity know to man... thank god i'm not a musician... but i was just standing there... indifferent... a fellow steward looked at me and tried to make me smile by putting his fingers into his cheeks and create a pristine imitation Joker... no... i'm not going to smile... so i stood there... buried my face in my folded hand as if to recreate an imitation of awe: pretending to smile with my eyes... music can't lie to you... it's a one man show... i'm more of a band guy... i like a lot more commotion on stage... the backwards and forwards between, say... Flea... Mr. Frusciante and Chuck... i love the idea of sharing a "burden"... music will never lie to you... that's why i'm not sitting down and trying to enjoy at least two hours of music i really like... KORTEZ... because i hate the idea of being indifferent to music...

sitting here at 2am, drinking the finest bourbon and
looking for the moon...
left the house at 9am and only got back home
after 1am:

i was so lucky getting back... caught the Metropolitan
line to Liverpool St and was sitting on
a train on platform 7 trying to understand my luck:

the 12:15am train to Southend Victoria...
    wow! it's stopping at Romford... usually these trains
only stop at Shenfield...
i usually have to slug it on a train that stops
on all the stops in between Liverpool St. and Romford:
Maryland, Forrest Gate, Manor Park,
Ilford, Seven Kings, Goodmayes... Chadwell Heath...
15 minutes later and i was eating a chicken wrap
and drinking a can of 7up... having to only wait
5 minutes for the 175 bus home...

now i need to relax after all the thrills of working
the Ed Sheeran gig...
      i need something completely different musically...
i don't regret choosing to do the London Stadium
shifts... with the Red Hot Chilly Peppers...
   hmm... Ed Sheeran live...
                  one man on a rotating stage in the middle
of the Wembley pitch...
    one man on stage...
                  you could say Pavarotti was also but a single
man on stage...

i don't know... oh sure: he was amazing...
   a sort of jack-in-a-box... but...
                        i don't think a single man can generate
the same sort of energy as a band...
it's a sort of yes and no answer... it's just so different
and it's so not so different...
                          
any diaspora of people around the world:
whether these be Somalis in England...
      Italians in England and America...
           the Hebrews pretty much everywhere...
i don't know how i managed to keep with
the cultural output from Poland...
           but there's a very decent alternative to someone
like Ed Sheeren: after all... he can be exported
to places like Poland... France...
     English universalism...
                       which is very real...
  
but? someone like KORTEZ? he couldn't be exported
out of Poland and become popular in England:
as much as there is an English universalism:
all other cultures are particular: there's a particularism
about them...
    i'm guessing of the language:
                        the Lingua Franca of the medieval
times Lingua Inglese of the modern times...

but songs by KORTEZ like: Z IMBIREM (with ginger)
   LUDZIE Z LODU (people from ice)...
BUMERANG (boomerang)...
HEJ WY (hey you)...
                              KOMINY (chimneys)...
                  
and all these songs live...

to be honest: the lyricism of the former is something for
teenager girls... maybe that's why i was sort of put off...
i need smart lyrics as i need good music:
but lyricism in English will hardly convey complexity
that a man could appreciate:
beside Peter Sinfield...

well... i might be living in Poland but i'm still
trying to keep up with the culture...
       because the politics doesn't interest me as much:
i know pretty much that there's an aspect of
a Japanese isolationism...
                     although: like the Mandarin Wall
of ideograms... the accurate phonetic-cutting
                          of words in ****** or the English
joke: too many consonants...

ha... szczerość... honestly...
                 Щero-
                       fair enough... i could almost create
a letter out of -ść since enough words end with these
two letters... like plenty begin with SZCZ (SHCH): Щ...
              
well... i'm not going to invest the equivalent Cyrillic:
impasse...

what made the shift a bit easier was having spent
most of it: up to 9pm talking and joking with a Somali...
women, life, drugs, work...
      work, drug, life, women...
ideas such as: i couldn't a Somali woman living
in England... that's why i married a traditional woman
in Somalia... she's living there with my two daughters...
Somali men who marry Somali women living
in the West: 5 years! 7! they're divorced...
because the women want to go out and party...
he's thinking about bringing her over...
       i think he's waiting for the 7 year itch to be
perfectly established...
******* Somali pirate... but i have to admit...
Somalis have the most infectious smiles...
the whole lot of them...
     a Muslim who used to drink and do drugs in
his youth and went off them after finding
his religion...
                again: even i'm tempted by the Shahadah...
but i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel of sorts...
when he was talking about Somalia being split
into three... hmm... that's interesting...
the English part, the French part and the Italian part...
post-colonial politics...
    but even he was saying things like:
but i hate the Somalis that collaborated...
    the Europeans came offered money and there
were some willing Somalis to sell their neighbours...

minerals... i allowed this conversation up to a point
before i revealed to him:
listen... i'm of a people that don't have a colonial past...
we didn't exist for well over 200 years...
we were carved up by the Russians, the Prussians
and the Austro-Hungarians...
        
i thought you were English?!
            yeah... i thought so too...
i'm neu-Englisch...
                        and when the Somali girls working in
the kiosk noticed me getting along with the Somali...
i managed to brag my way into getting a free
hot-dog...
   while the Somali... caged in the turnstiles
asked me to keep a look out for any supervisors while
he smoked a cigarette...  
    **** me... it's truly advantageous not being English
in London: but at the same time
having people think you are...

in the end we only had a few issues...
unlike a football event: when even vaping is forbidden
we were being kept being asked whether
people could leave the venue to smoke and be
readmitted... we kept tell them:
wink wink... nudge nudge...
   when enough people come... and the stewards
can't see you... ahem... ahem...
most people got the idea...

but some of the women didn't...
   no one checks the toilets... wink wink.... nudge nudge...
until i started talking to this:
she made it adamant that she was a law postgraduate...
good that i didn't tell her that i was a chemistry
postgraduate...
                 impress me: yawn...
we were disputing whether to be a law-breaker...
listen: i'm not telling you can smoke...
i'm just telling you that no one checks the toilets...

but this one scared me and Ishmael... the Somali...
she asked to be let out...
she was told no... but then i initiated the finger
on the lips as if to imply: shh... i'm going you in on a little
secret... she was genuinely offended
that i used this cue... DON'T HUSH ME!
i'm not hushing you...
        all ******* glassy-wild eyed...
defensive & neurotic...
              white... blonde... kept in a cage for the past
three years... i was surprised she wasn't
wearing a face mask...
                  
i don't want to break the law!
you want me to break the law?!
who do you work for?! the event or the stadium?!
oh ****... ladies and gentlemen! we have a sinker!

you're asking me to let you out to smoke:
i'm telling you i can but i can't let you back in...
but... i'm also telling you
that this is not a football event...
the rules are relaxed...
                     she gave me a proper fright...
i thought she was going to grass me and Ishmael up...
luckily she ****** off...

these two other bubbly girls approached us...
this was the first time i was told i looked ****
outside of a brothel...
we let them out... one "medical" grounds...
but we served them up a plan A (medical grounds
reasons, to have a smoke)
or plan B... crowd-build up... no one checks the toilets...

then this one guy with crowd anxiety...
agoraphobia+,
                       charged me with tears in his eyes...
Wembley policy is that not all disabilities are visible...
i had to let him out... he did return...
i have to explain to my supervisor that
the guy had psychological demons haunting him...
you can't just tell me that i can't let him back
in when he's obviously distressed...
thankfully that went down as a treat...

i'm starting to realise that people are dim when it
come to someone insinuating that: rules
can be broken... i know that a high-viz. jacket is no
symbol of the sort of authority associated with
a police uniform... but we were telling people:
it's the concert season... you're not football hooligans...
it's a music concert...
it's not a football match... there are no two opposing sides...
with that comes some leniency...
you want to enjoy it? or you want to make our
lives more difficult?!

wink wink: nudge nudge...
  
oh man... listening to KORTEZ right now...
what a welcome relief from the ordeal of being indifferent
to Ed Sheeran...
i have this co-worker who's dreading working
the London Stadium when Chelsea will play West Ham...
i was the same today...
being indifferent to Ed Sheeran being surrounded
by Ed Sheeran fans is sort of a ******...
i can't fake smiles... i rather hide my mouth in my hand
and look pensively lost in "admiration"
and pretend to smile with my eyes
than fake a smile...

      music will never lie to you...
                      i didn't hate it... but i didn't love it either...
there's nothing worse than apathy:
i've been told...
but then there's a play on words:
apathy breeds no pathologies...
   since? it's a pathology in itself... funny how that works...
it's almost 4am and i think...
thank god i'm not working tomorrow...
i'll get at painting the garden fence...
i'll vacuum the house... i'll go on a bicycle ride...
i'll stack up on *****...
    i'll make my father lunch... then i'll think about
making dinner...
    
hell... what a summer: what a summer without
a girlfriend...
Weezer, Fall Out Boy, Green Day...
Red Hot Chilli Peppers... Ed Sheeran...
    Walter Sickert...
oh right... ha ha... an hour into the event and this
guy walks up to me...
LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!
what's the problem?!
       i'm leaving! i'm leaving!
   why?!
              my wife is being a complete *****!
she's being an idiot!
i'm leaving... i'm going home...
   you do know that when you leave...
i can't... yes yes... I'M LEAVING!
   wow!              

thank god i didn't invest myself in the culture
of free ***... of hook-up culture...
thank god i went down the route: money on the table...
i can't imagine anything good being for free...
nothing good ever is...
   i would never invest myself in the hook up culture...
if it was ever going to be casual ***...
i'd need the sultry / shady avenues of nights
in a brothel...
         no...

oh... ****! i almost forgot!
while we were waiting for our shift to begin...
i spotted these four guys in the distance
playing cards...
i walked up and asked: so... what are you guys playing?!
blackjack... ooh...
can i join in?
sure thing bro...
        oh man... i almost cried... memories flooded in...
i remember sixth form... lunch breaks...
that's all we ever did... played blackjack...
reminiscent of Ernest Hemmingway's novella
Men without Women... men playing cards...
i forgot some of the basic rules
but i watched one round before joining in
and it was: yachts... wind and yachts...
and smooth sailing...
    i missed playing cards with guys so much...
the banter and the teasing...
the manly stuff of men... men without women...
******* utopia...
an eternity spent playing cards with guys...
women complicate matter...
they have this knack of isolating men
and turning men against men
because: in the end... it's women against women...
take women out of the equation
and when men come together...
they're playing cards and drinking beer together...

it's such a fun game...
much better than poker...
what are the rules? ha ha...
2s: pick up 2...
blackjacks: pick up 5...
red jacks neutralize...
kings reverse order of play
8 skip a go...
queens are slags...
aces change from either ***** to diamond...
and you can't finish on a power card...

i love this game! i was a teenager for a while
again!
oh man... i've written so many pointless details from today...
MUSIC DOESN'T LIE TO YOU... blah blah etc...
the highpoint was this ******* card-game!
maybe that's why i never became a gamer...
why i stopped on PS1... final fantasy VII,
metal gear solid...
         some beers, cards: ***** 'n' giggles...
parallel words...
    a man has... when it comes to his fellow men
and individually: with women...
playing cards or... going shoe-shopping with her?
playing cards... every single time...
even if it means not fathering a child
and not ******* on a regular basis;
   i like to keep my mind in order...

even the Somali said: you look young for a 36 year old...
even with the beard...
and we joked: you know why?
i don't have a woman... and that massive crescent
moon of a Somali smile conjured itself on his face...
yeah... we're relatable... laughter and the day
passed with a peace that might have made
angels jealous, if not the gods themselves;

**** me... even i sometimes find myself profound...
in a recent comment i wrote
about someone's concern for mortality
and enligthment:

deus in machina in perfect ratio to **** ex machina,
my frailty... against the infallibility
of trains or architecture...
the god inside the machinery...
compensated with the man outside of machinery...
and this backwards and forwards:
deus ex machina and **** in machina...
deus ex machina being the genius-ingenuity
of man... while **** ex machina being his...
stupendous dumbness when obliterated
by the artifacts of his fellow creature...
that's **** ex machina:
          the labourer is not the architect...
the nurse is not the heart surgeon...
              
               there's such a perfect harmony
to sharing toils... responsibilities...
just as long as the libido is managed and we
don't over-**** to create pointless middle-management
roles for people with little-****** complexes of
authority investment... we should be good...
but that's truly dependent on orientating ourselves
around what best way to fulfill our libido:
not careless *******...
    more people requires more jobs...
and that also demands scrutiny on a lack
of metallurgy in Europe...
                     etc.

             me and my new found Somali friend agreed:
neither of us could understand Western atheism...
i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel looking for a second schism
in Islam spearheaded by the Turks...
i'm not getting on my knees...
in a church... to give a ******* to a demigod...
after all... even Achilles could be equated on equal
footing... but he fought his way toward the zenith...
this pacifying of man with the suffering of but one
with shady dealings: arguments of "innocence"...
of course i'm inclined to the simplicity of Islam...
but also inclined to the complexity of Judaism...

but if i argue my case for blood in beef...
but if i argue my case for pork...
but if i argue my case for alcohol among these
two tribes...
blood in beef is healthy: iron...
pork? why be critical of god's creation?
you tend to sheep in deserts...
but when you're going to tame the boars...
you can eat everything from a pig...
alcohol? keeps you warm in cold climates...
but if i can have Somalis who drank and did drugs
on board... who found religion
after getting married and having children...

Christianity is a polytheism by this point:
due to its poly-schism...
i can't be a Christian... i toy with the idea
that i'm the reincarnation of Konrad von Wallenrode...
i can't defend what's already rotten...
mind you: i find the idea of reincarnation
repulsive... i.e. there's only a fixed number of souls /
individuals... that pass through zombie bodies...
that's... harsh... elitist...

thank god i can't go back to the gynocentric Christianity...
just read some Jung on the whole myth of
Jesus returning and ******* his mother
in the bridal chamber of the "uncircumcised"...
complications that don't require complications...
no... i wouldn't circumcise anyone...

best me: that last "leftover".

the weather outside is truly ideal for listening
to this sort of music...
it has rained a while... slanting to the side...
it has stopped raining (though)...
the clouds are moving across the sky with
much desire to get away from England:
reach the sea and pick up some moisture
in the noon heat...
the wind has shackled the trees to wave...
the music? we lost the sea: departure songs...
2015... it's neumuzik however i look at it...
it's not familiar... first rendition...
if i were asked about other instrumental projects...
say... Demdike Stare... or... Godspeed! You Black Emperor...
all things Canadian...
melancholic: reflective music...
music best suited to writing...
is atmospheric an adjective?
all of a sudden concerning myself with
grammatical categories?
           as you do...
   custodian... i like that word...
if in all the stories of medieval lore there would
be a knight errand...
err-and...
            n'ah... i'd pass on the role even if it comes
to this petty modern: imaging of being
the "hero"... the "knight"...
i'd be the inn-keeper...
            just today i made my final distinction
between two recipes...
one for butter chicken curry...
the other for a korma curry...
butter chicken curry wins... every single time...
i compared two or three websites...
one might have had a great recipe but...
the overtones of politics in the bio of the cook
left me astounded...
making excuses concerning: ahem...
"cultural appropriation"... seriously?!
only Chinese people can cook Chinese food well?
only Indians can cook up a... makeshift
Irish Stew broth? tautology? stew... broth?
probably...
i don't think food can be... sterilized for leftist
political ("correct") convenience...
i don't think anyone can tell me i can't cook
a better curry than a native of the Raj...
now... if you told me i couldn't... don a turban
on my head... or wear a shalwar kameez...
pa-*******-jamas...
no... i couldn't... but why all of a sudden
could it: should it be, considered...
"cultural appropriation" for making a curry?
do i need a Hindu to cook me one
can't i ever, make one?
if this is something that resembles life...
it's at best an imitation...
plus this music is great for the scenes of
the night, it having just rained...
the clouds moving so quickly but me still managing to
spot a demonic death-face in the clouds...
the trees shackles to waving...
great music... but it also *****...
i don't like feeling this sentimental...
the algorithm had a flirt with a glitch...
i've had the sort of recommendations that were
freely available at the height of the platform:
circa 2016... when there was an inbuilt...
thesaurus... notably the synonyms were at work...
- the earth is not a cold dead place (explosions in the sky)
- safehaven (tides from nebula)
- wavering radiant (ISIS)
- geneva (russian circles)
- best of melancholic post-rock mix (infinite tea)
- the bones of a dying world (if these trees could talk)
- refractions (meniscus)
- the hidden forest (anoice)
- b-sides and rarities from industrial silence (madrugada)
- departures (message to bears)

who doesn't like Ludovico Einaudi?!

- i rarely dream... but only this night i was sitting
at my usual spot... by the yawning abyss...
and someone three a 800 page monstrosity of
a romance novel into my lap...
i tend to sit by the abyss since it gives me focus...
rarely i find my body in my dreams...
just the gravity of darkness...
this time round i was given a 800 page
monstrosity of a romance novel...

hmm... post-rock... i've come across this genre
once before...
my Russian ex left me for a New Zealander
acid pusher who was big on...
65daysofstatic...
                            hang-up?
ask me tomorrow... when i'm hung-over...
2nd best *** in my lifetime...
even she couldn't compete with
that Turkish *******... Khadija...
30 minutes became 30 years...
post-rock... elevated emo...
           elevated because... without lyrics...
but still... heart-breaking to listen to...
intricate and complex but...
it's not progressive-rock...
                     there's no... Peter Sinfield involved...
invoked... involved...
so... it can be so little as a syllable to elevate
mere instruments... who cares about it
conjuring up operas!
when the world was created... the choir of demons
that refused to sing...
simply... ushered in... the hebrew definite article:
HA...
and how they laughed... and laughed
until it splintered their minds...
the... point...
unlike in Western Slavic: to: this...
tamto: that...
there's no article distinction in languages
that otherwise have... gender inclusion in their
nouns... which English insinuates...
but doesn't have...
Earth is hardly feminine...
you'd need Mother Earth to associate Earth with
something feminine...
Father Time... time by itself is hardly masculine...
Moon is somehow... deceptively...
masculine...
while the Sun... is also... "deceptively"
feminine... a trait shared by both languages...
Moon: Ksieżyc...
Sun: Słońce...
  but, with regards to names associated with
objects... rower sounds masculine...
it's a bicycle...
               krzesło (a make-believe "he") is
simply a gender-neutral chair...
English, as a language... doesn't have a feel
for gendered nouns... almost all nouns
in English are gender-neutral...
English has a conundrum with
the definite / indefinite article...
i.e. to krzesło: tamto krzesło...
     this chair . that chair
      krzesło: a chair...
      krzesło: the chair...
      
i appreciate how the indefinite article works...
you can suppose abstracting a chair
into... the deconstruction of the chair...
into: something you're not intending
to sit on...

perhaps as little, or as much....
giving the "gravity" associated with painting still: life...
"dead" objects at the end of
a manufacturing process...
          
English can't be undermined so easily:
not by its own people...
what the **** is implied by "gender neutral
pronouns"?!
all the nouns in English are gender neutral!
you can't have gender neutral pronouns!
what you can have are... is? are? is?
a singular or a plural definition...
"gender neutrality" is
not the Socratic concern for a debate
on universalism vs. particularism...
it's an: ex uno...
          to be addressed as "they":
plural? didn't the British royalty already stress this?

one can... we can...
who the **** is a vague current vogue of
"they"?!
in a language with restrictions:
all, the, nouns... are... gender... neutral...
imagine if this was French...
the masculine chair... the feminine table...
it's the English though...
do they... will they... bother... to learn
a foreign language...

see... i was considered "problematic" once...
a schizophrenic...
if i'm also: alias... bilingual...
i must be a ******* quadratic by, now!
if the priests won't entertain the power
of the words... LOUNGE-INTO-GOSH...
who will?!
moi?! i'm tired of being tailored by...
half-respectable... Kafkaesque monstrosities of...
punitive power (struggles)...
buereaucrats...
shadow people... grey people...
bureaucrats...
"too many consonants" in my western Slavic...
so... not enough onomatopoeia:
******* vowels in your... baggage?!
you *******: plump?!
technology abbreviates conundrums
before they're allowed to before
functioning electronic outlets of mass:
replica-tion...
what is it with...
people... "waking" up...
isn't it impossible to keep the people
sleeping... insomniac libido caricature... etc.
what Copernicus arrived at is
not what Darwin: also arrived at...
   nature abhors vacuums...
unless it's in the realm of physics...
there' nothing useless in nature:
since... the evolution of the parasite...
i understand that...
so few people exercise the "elder" use... utility of zunge...
i have no problem with that...

i'm of the... "assertion": let's just call it quits!
if *** was ever a poroblem:
not enough of it...
nirvana's... any...
vs. pearl jam's polished... beside the debute...
GO!  
                      is it really question?

some nouns betters in languages than your own...
ANIMAL vs. ZWIECIĘCIĘ:
it calls how it's cut...
doubly cut....
how it's slaughtered first... then how it's cooked:
almost unlike look0alike:

Ę coupled with Щ...
   no? what's the geography when... linear...
comes... the writing?!

my thirst: struggled first with it...
later?! not much bother...
i live, i also die: to be equated...
synonymous...
or some variant of parody...
do i dare to blink?
do i?!

       RATS....
SZCZURY...
             that... SZCZ collapse...
щoor-y:
where's your hatch of hay-tch??!

ha ha!
ZWIECIĘCIĘ also: best reads as...
ZWIERZĘCIĘ!
ZWIE: it's know as... a name..
it's known by a name...
RZECZ: thing...
CIĘCIĘ: cutting...
what an etymological cocktail of events!
call a thing by its name
that's... to be readily... cut?!
ha!

With trepidation I say
Hello 2021
I hope you’ve brought your ‘A game’
It’ll take some effort to better last year’s fun
So don’t think about setting Australia on fire
And if we’re dealing in favours
Leave behind that global pandemic
And those backward white supremacists with their guns
Then I reckon we’ll be on to a winner
We’ve already done ourselves a favour by removing the supposed leader of the free world
With a shockingly legal election that relieved the unbearable tension
For now at least
There’s one less person in power who’s a glorified sinner
Even though he’s still somehow revered by millions
Who’ll now have to operate as postillions
Now the “coachman” is as elusive as Ghislaine Maxwell
Nahhh, I shouldn’t be silly
If I think about it I really should become a Palaeontologist
Because I’ve got one hell of a big bone to pick
There’s more problems at play than millionaire paedophiles
Even Harry and Megan leaving the monarchy pales into insignificance
Despite the global shock
Ringing out like the independent chimes of the Liberty Bell in ‘Philly’
Because down in the abandoned streets that I frequent
The dark truth runs a little thicker
Leaving the “real people” rightfully embitter
Did Tashan Danial deserve to only pre-exist?
As knife crime continues to be unaddressed
But what reason is there for these senseless deaths?
Unless those in power are fine with their child growing up as a potential killer?
No, I didn’t think so
And if it is here’s your time to confess
To the continuous incompetent acts of negligence
But even if you looked straight into my eyes
Still, I wouldn’t believe you
Still, I wouldn’t believe you’d know what to do
To turn around the fortunes of a generation trying to survive in unforeseen circumstances
With limited chances
That stems directly from your lack of attention, empathy, opportunity, and hope
But nothing’s changed
You, the Government, still have the means to make it right
Even Taylor and Em had time in a year to release 2 albums apiece
So surely you can up the work ethic
Improve support, funding and increase numbers in the Police
Not by figures, but by actual bodies
And while we're talking about bodies
That’s without mentioning the years of maltreatment of the NHS
Instead you’re all sat at your computers being utterly pathetic
Straight up useless
With more delays than the next James Bond
The only attribute you covet is the ability to cower and abscond
And wait for Marcus Rashford to tackle poverty like he’s got his boots on at Wembley
When the reality is It’s your responsibility
Not his
So take inspiration in 2020’s various acts of tenderness
Rather than solely relying on it in a poverty stricken crises
Because truthfully
You’re operating like you’re unannealed
Far from a position of strength or courage
Unfortunately, there’s thousands of people out there just like you who are failing us
Yet there’s only one Kevin Sinfield
****, what a shame
Because although this new year might be different
The challenges remain unremitting and the same
If anything they’re emerging on the horizon even more ferocious
So take the initiative
And make this year one to remember for the right reasons
Rather than headlines of ongoing intentional malfeasance
Where facts get magically erased and replaced
Hmm has Prince Andrew spoke to the FBI yet?
I guess I’m asking too much in that case
Wait
Wouldn’t it be great if there was a coup de grâce?
But don’t ask Jeffrey Epstein about that if you’re looking for an answer
Well, unless you exhume him like a necromancer
Although If you had that power I’d use it for better purposes
To end discrimination and perfect vaccine formulas
On first impressions
I did have you down as a doctorate in witch-doctoring
Because it’s hard to tell where the lies end and where the truth begins
When all we can do is hope for the best
I suppose that’s the point of your potion explosion
Providing the fixated audience with a mass distraction
In our newly affirmed state of vulnerability and despondency
That we’re so desperate to fight ourselves out of
If we’re given a chance to leave our houses that is..
That would be nice

i have no contemporaries... i live among no contemporaries... i live among the contempt zombies: some dead here thrown... to suckle at the grinding of flesh: some... peter sinfield wrote... i have no contemporaries... i have this vacant breath: thank god i didn't invest in "family"... less a funeral... more a disappearing act! repeat the tides of spring... repeat the glimmer of ancient winter... remind me... Europe: funnel of the deaf earth... beside our Turkic past... before the Ottoman altar at the grinding: whip... lash... of the pride that once was Constantinople... tide: the currency of time: us nuanced: new... new Brazilian... all mixed up and holy Babel: come the crashing urn: my "utopia" of... my... fading suntan...  kupfernacken... i scribble itching: pretending them to be letters: born from Greenwich... ghostly freelance... such a tidy little place i can ghost... align myself to past: to pass trivial concerns... women marry... men dissolve into a figment of their imagination... the best doggy... the walking abortions that they were already sentenced with... i have no contemporaries... all my compatriots of now are... still in high-school... i have no contemporaries... befitting... all i have ever read was by those already dead: necromancer: reads.... conjure up the devil without fire... with smoke and mirrors he comes... or came... with a cat screaming: cite Bulgakov! i do the *****... rather: i do the ***... he play more the backgammon because... chess is... ******* boring... given the adventure allowed by FFVII... for example... we were teenage boys once... we still are... come to think of it... i don't want to learn of the universe of women and... at least with prostitutes... i have a heart that's the size of a pebble... and a tear the size of a lake... yes... that's plenty.


either the day begins like: pouring some milk into
a glass of water...
or the day ends like: pouring some water
into a glass of milk...

the day, sober... began with:

cussons' imperial leather:
cotton clouds & white cashmere...
a shower fragrance like
no other...
    well... if a shower gel reminds
you of a mythological
sweet / pastry you had
aged circa 4... on a train...
going from Danzig back home...
i guess that's probably right...

but if i'm wrong about that
i'm certainly right about:
a splash of ***... or whiskey...
in a black coffee...
why did i ever bother with cream?!

then defrosting two refrigerators
got in the day...
house chores: cleaning the "stanzas":
the square...
one remorseful hour with
the road on my bicycle...
no thought: just spatial coordination:
unconscious arithmetic...

linger until midnight...
past midnight pretend to sleep for
an hour... then get up and "hunt" for
a glass of milk...

eclipse heritage: mount gay Barbados ***...
a fine fine ***...
finer than any mr. whiskers or ms. amber
has to offer...

why has it not dawned upon the western:
liberal man that...
he's somehow... not... the... universal man?
translated in Afghanistan?
who the hell is going to bemoan
the rise-up of Taliban "two-point-oh"?!
i'm celebrating...
like the partisan h'americans are still trying
to celebrate the Hebrews having their
land back!

i'm happy for the Afghan people!
why wouldn't you be?
well thank you: mr. universal man...
thank you for the railroads...
thank you for your chemistry...
thank you for so much...
but... don't you have an incel "problem":
trying to shove it under a bright orange
carpet of psychiatry...
it's going to be much harder to bribe
these monks...
than it would take to bribe the Jihadis
with 72 virgins...
after all: ever heard of a jihadi that
performed an act of Jihad by killing
his mother, first?

it's like that joke akin to: a priest,
a rabbi and an imam walk into a bar...
an incel, a jihadi and a...
walk into... a nunnery...

mr. universal man... thank god you're
finally leaving Afghanistan...
are the Hebrews the only sacred
cows in your Hindu zodiac?
i believe firmly: leave the people to their
own fate... or demise...
last time i heard... Afghan women
were waterfalls of poetry with their
Landays...

                     mr. universal man has attracted
a multi-cultural palette...
even the Armenian bread like lavash was
some story...
sorry... when was the last time you
heard the ******* backstory of
a croissant?!
only the "noble savages" have stories...
we have turkey-t.v.:
we have no stories... no heritage...
nothing at all concerning
the French fries... we didn't invent
anything: culinary...
never used mint... rosemary... thyme...
we just ******* nuked nuked nuked...

the flat-chested flat-bread paupers
who were beaten by a pancake
and never hunted down: yeast! yeast!
rise! miracle of flour!
rise! like the sun!

cheap-****-sushi...
let them be... let them shove a stick
and a rubber shoe into the mountain
to draw some water to nourish their
goats...

mr. universal man...
why are westerners so concerned with
what might happen to Afghanistan?
probably something less terrible than
what already took place:
i'm of the maxim:
the terrible has already happened...
Viet-Now...

mr. universal man has problems re-abstracting
what is concrete to others...
since... mr. universal man
hasn't lived long enough to have lost
what others are vying for...

he invented all such splendorous games
and amusements befitting a cosmopolitan
echo chamber that he forgot what
a tree or a rock might imply...

he's so blind to churn out an introspection:
a new breed of terrorist he hides
under a blanket of psychiatry...
thinking: this one more time... this time again:
the sun will rise...

these need breeds start with killing
their mother! or end with killing their mother!
jihadis aim for collateral fog...
they're aiming for 72 virgins...
what have you to bribe these "monks"?

eh... there's a romance to be had with
Afghanistan and the Taliban...
it's not unlike
the amphetamine fuelled antics
of the Syrian pseudo-caliphate...
an Afghani is not ****
in the eyes of the Hindu...
he's a less sensitive breed: almost alien...
somewhat teasing the Iranian...
but then again... what do i know?

reminiscence of a time when a troll
of a girl chased me in high-school...
i was cycling up to the top of Bower Hill
when i stopped to change the music...
a woman was jogging against
the tide of traffic i was encompassing...
she too decided to stop "jogging"
to change her soundtrack...
she must have been admiring my Turkish
take on ****** hair... if i had a mirror
i too would be... in between itching
to squeeze the last maggot of phlegm
and acne from my face:
because Beelzebub took a **** on my face!
if he was a she i'd imagine it
would run along the lines of:
she sat with her fully fattened *****
onto my face and told me to slurp!
whizz-kid concerning oysters...
n'est c'est pas?

i feel inclined to dream about joining
the Tally-*** band of brothers...
i'm bored with the music...
last time i heard they were into listening to:
pretending to listen to: listening to:
silence...
next comes a Hegel or a Kant...
attacked by bouts of schizophrenia:

loose term... i much prefer the older
noun... dementia praecox...
premature dementia...
it's less a metaphor...
after all: what is the experience of consciousness:
the science of: drugging up the experiencer?
to dull the experience?
what senses are we inviting when
the schizoid is hardly: half-of-hearing?

ha ha!
of those philosophers' ivory towers that are books:
some followed-through: some unchallenged:
some unread...
like Kjartan on Heidegger in Knausgaard's
vol. 4...
apparently living in London:
well... it's not like you can be ever bored
of London... south of the Thames:
esp. circa the central projects of attracting
postcards... is all the same...
but south of London... isn't it... Kent... Sussex?
that's most certainly not...
the grand underground wheelie of...
Hainault is Greater London...
but Chigwell is Essex... proper...
south London is a different country...
it might as well be Northumbria!