Bouncing, rebounding
on the floor of my memory -
the ball of my elder sister’s jackstones
and the lead washer of my elder brother’s sipa
travelling to and fro
the tops and yoyos
among the imaginary bread doughs
of gathered dust
from that childhood
sprinkled with the *** of yesterday
to bake make-believe
rice puddings
and rice cakes
- they seem to be spoiled now
in the food cupboards of computers
and eventually interred
in the graveyards of cellular phones

In the cemetery of memories
the ghost of poverty still haunts
never, ever unescapable

for every gulp of you
warmly soothes
the throats of scenarios
of all dramas and movies
in that nesting home
now decrepit, debilitated:
          after the day’s toils:
          you helped me swallow the lump of aromatic rice
          - cooked by Mother - the old fragrant stock
          that she loaned from the vendor from Quezon
          not even a piece of dried fish accompanying
          nothing else, only you, my brewed coffee
          nice both as dip and soup.

oh this night, this sobering "cold":
well... it's no longer cold
said a Scouser to a Londoner:
it's no longer deemeable to say "cold":
it's actually freezing... and it is...
my face is pinched with a thousand angry
chickens
i'm drooling my snot is freezing on
my 'tash
               and there are ***** on the ends
of what used to be my fingertips:
but i'm happy like so
with moon and shadows
and all that flamboyant romanticism of
language that escapes the modern
secular
post-communist = post-colonial
and with the new advent of "communism":
see... at least when the Slavic people
tried out communism
it worked for a while and it's o.k. that it
worked for a while...
but the fetish of communism in the west:
the western fetish for a communism
with an archetypical evil of a ****:
a communism of ethno-centric mitigation...
like...
stressing the importance of how
the schematic the dissection of man was
achieved...
i can understand the superego as something
that is concentrated within the realm
of external forces of check...
an external societal norm of expectations
and playing chess
because there are rules...
3D chess i can explain in the internet
arcade of robot wars... fair enough...
but for games to be played there is a need
to implement rules: otherwise there's no
game to begin with...
imagine that sort of disorientated game
of entitlement and equal outcome
in a game a chess: well that would make
the idea, merely the idea: of playing,
a game of chess... a lot like: pointless?!
see, i love the two experience of dreams:
there are dreams i have whereby i do image
arithmetic and then there are dreams were
i simply dream of words:
as if looking up from reading a book
on the London tube...
London... aha... the star constellations
look so different south of the river...
but i get it: the superego as not part of my
schematic:
i can do with the ego-id dualism
but i can't stomach the hyphen being infiltrated
by a *******-upped Freud giving me
the internalisation of the superego as
momma and papa while society is no big brother
the superego externalised like how
the starfish eats by throwing up its cloud
of stomach or how the fly vomits on its food
then ***** it up... tasteless:
consciousness is devoid in this world of
paraphrase:
         at least if the superego is external and
part of societal infrastructure...
then at least it's not an internalised conflation:
rigid... ******* monstrosity
but even Christ couldn't create a draft
trinity
having his mother exluded from the mix
because how must have it happened
when John the Baptist did that thing with Jesus
and the dove descended and
if not two people then at least three heard
upon that signture of baptism:
he's my son... and i'm proud of him...
who? Jesus? or John the Baptist?!
Christianity has become a sort of covert-synonym word
for Communism in the mouths of western Liberals
when a new fashion statement of not treating
thoughts as freedoms
but instead fashion statements and trendy
parrot behavior settles...
the right kind of Christianity would invoke
the Church establishing a pontif with a bride...
Protestantism tried that
and it workek for a while but then Christianity
died because of the ordeal of time biology
and geology
so if you think of Communism as a time-constrained
experiment
you can start thinking of Christianity
as a time-constrained experiment that is unnanutral
by now: count 2000 years:
because how many lives are to be lived
for Christ to reach the limit of 33 springs
but still not married or fathering children
becoming a Hebrew patriarch?
i do wonder... so no wonder why the church
the institution has problems with only
alligning itself with pedophiles and homosexuals...
since... the woman is desecrated:
instead of the celebration of woman
we have this bogus shallow of church...
well it's never a Tsarist Russia and the Serfs
it's always this western narrative and
the African slaves: it's never about the Russian
serfs...
this darkest murk
this inability to lounge these Polacks
becaue oh so hard to be working in the sugar cane
fields and not the ****** whiggers
working the coal mines:
it's always the ******* juice-ash of Holocaust
in concentration camps but never the Slavic
workers of earth unearthing darkness of
the ****** bunker...
at least in idea the ideal slaughter
but being kept alive: to do the ***** work?
even Gone with the Wind alludes to when
Miss Goodietow-lost-a-shoe
begins her business venture
and employs some white-oh-yoyos
to dig for her
and no ******* ****** in sight
oh jeez these pseudo-communists have left
my **** in the form of a slobbering oyster
of a ****...
i find myself unable to return to Poland
and i can't stay in England
and i can't make the US my home
so i need to think about Polynesia and
making a Genghis Khan implosion:
like i told Edie when she dumped the carcas
of Musubi on the garbage ****:
through the needle with the rich men we walked:
i said i was dreaming...
and i need to find Taiwan but not Thailand...
because the beast of the sea needs to meet
the beast of the earth
and fire was baron...
such a long poem i wrote to Edie
about vikings and the desperation of the Poles
for Danzig, which precursored London
as the global advent of intellect:
where Farhenheit was born and bothered
Celcius
that i am sure: Calvin never spoke to Luther
and then just the origins of originals:
the sin being a plagiarism...
realising when sleeping a full breadth of day
i am both
lactose and apple intolerant:
i **** thoroughly throughout ingesting both...
so i am PAGAN therefore i was born yesterday
and there are three monotheisms and a Buddha ****...
well... one of these supposed monotheisms
became complicated and became the polyglot
polytheism of the same person
a mirror hall... not something truly geometric
Islam emerged as counter to Judaism
a competitor and Christianity
a fools errand...
fool Christ no saviour...
without marriage then "they" conjured the possbility
in the French as there: was always a lineage
and inheritance tax...
to stop history
and revert to some Apollonian Atlantis...
but in this murk of Dionysian murk and
smiles-of-chaos...
             i see a nunnery
and where i received my first diaper...

i said the Vandals are coming: for the wind
of and the wing of metallic birds...
i leave that poem with you dear
Edie: like in that movie: Heat
Val Kilmer, Al Paccino and snot
freckle... i can't remember his name...
i see his face: i can't remember his name:
Alfredo... Alfonso...
Herald: Harrold: Harrah...
the godfather junior...
maybe his politics negates him
i'm not escaping London for Kauai and the golf...
i hate golf... i'm invested in trenches...
i need to caress my mind, somewhat...
the Taxi Driver:
i can't remember the actor's name!
weird!
who was not Al Paccino
you ******* scream at me!
i'll ******* scream back!
when you think!
i'll dream!
i'll eat...               oh right... Robert... DeNiro...
Da-Nero...
                    
    the electricity shut down
when i mentioned: the Quran was written
by Khadijjah... the elder wife of Muhammad:
i thought: or so i heard:
that Muhammad was illiterate...
not dyslexic jumble
but outright illiterate:
so who wrote the Quran if not
his older wife?

then my electricity allowance runned out...
oh... but i... marinated this argument
beside of the womb
of woman...
i came here to tame the womb of man:
that of nothing: and i am... here...
        
i was born yesterday
i am:
POGANIN...
and i'm scrutinising monotheism...
and i see
a Jewish Arab war
and i don't want to become
involved as a third party
secular
             monotheism...
          Arabs can do their Jews
and the Jews can do their Arabs:
i don't need you like the Mongols
don't need Hinduism... savvy?!
truly?! are, we, savvy?!

there was so much else i wrote:
about the Baltic Eye and seeing the futures
in the erruptng gauge of
sight bleeding a water
a tight...                      slither me a proper
pop spreschen...
i do i do
                 ach macht frei!