while september cicadas
were singing my neighbors to sleep
i was up walking holes in my shoes
over love once lost
so many poems ago
that the only thing i remember
about the house at 38th & bluestone
is that it reeked of alcohol and is
as i'm sure of it
still saturated in perfume
and abandoned laughter
but that's not the point
give me a minute
what i'm trying to say
is i always thought god
enjoyed watching things leave me
it makes me wonder
what was on his mind
that night in september
when i stooped to cough
or tie my shoelaces
i no longer remember why
but i recall their trajectory
the way gravity cradled my hands
and brought them crashing back to earth like a 747
they landed inches away
from a scrap of crumpled loose leaf
folded in half like the smiles
of my relatives on a holiday truce
you see, lately i've been looking for scars in the newspaper
i find myself checking the obituary
for my former selves since the day i found your suicide letter
maybe that's why i can never explain my obsession with history
maybe archeology is just a funeral
in reverse
maybe hell is just rewinding home movies
or watching confetti
turn back into photographs
i never told anyone
the reason the doors to the gun cabinet in my family's house are locked not because they are afraid
i will take my life
but because sometimes
i sing them birthday songs
on the day you died
it makes me think
of how rooms only echo
when they are empty

*you know
i never echoed until you died

MEMORIAL DAY May 26th, 2014

****************

To all of you that have ever worn "The Uniform",

the uniform of safety and security, the uniform of pride

the uniform of freedom, the uniform of liberty

THE UNIFORM OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

**

THANK YOU

Thank you to all, in every branch, in every time From:

The American Revolution (most of us have roots to our founders)

The Civil War (North or South)

World War I

World War II

Korea

Vietnam

Cambodia

Laos

Panama

Nicaragua

The Falkland Islands

Somalia

Yugoslavia

Bosnia

Kuwait

Iraq

Afghanistan

­Pakistan

The Persian Gulf



areas and battlefields such as

(not all locations are listed with no dis-respect)



Lexington/Concord, Gettysburg, Pearl Harbor, Midway Island, Normandy, D-Day, Berlin, Tripoli, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, The 38th Parallel, The Bay of Tonkin, Me Lei, Hanoi, The Hanoi Hilton, Saigon, The ** Chi Minh Trail, Baghdad, Kabul, Ground Zero Manhattan, Pentagon 9/11, a field near Shanksville PA.

and many many more,



you are all heroes and role models, not for a nation, for the world, not for American Patriots, for all humanity, not only on this Memorial Day, for all days and all days to come.



You are appreciated! because freedom has high costs and you pay the price for all of us.

**********

Godspeed, safety and peace where ever you are.



Sincerely,

Warner C. Baxter Jr.

American Patriot

Scottsdale, AZ. U.S.A.



God bless America

The meeting is at 10:00 AM
So let’s begin
High above on the 38th Floor
In the Conference room, a view of new World Trade Center right across for everyone to explore
The Business Manager gave his welcomed speech
It’s was to everyone he was trying to reach
The Board shows the arrows of sales elevation in 90% results flow
However during the months of May and June show a decline of 70%
Due to the economy being extremely slow
Yet Oppenheimer helped everyone feel assured
After that, there was hands of applause
The Business Manager stated, “Oppenheimer has a solid portfolio foundation handshake
So we are known in the financial world and assets in what’s at stake
Oppenheimer Trader’s are well trained
We hit the bull’s eye being the aim
Let’s keep Oppenheimer on top
Keep focused and don’t stop
Now with that said
I will take questions from the floor
As you ask the questions, I will think then I will analyze and my outcome in concept planning surprise
Later the meeting was adjourned
Now go out and continue to produce in using what you learned
You are Oppenheimer’s success story and our talent is our glory.

“if your head is empty
what you write comes from
nowhere.
you have dry lips, dry eyes,
dry hands, dry heart.”

a woman’s intuition defies
her capability to understand
stated as a fact
because never once i have
witnessed it for myself
that a woman stopped for a moment
and read a man’s plea.
ask a man, any man.
perhaps any man
would rather spend
the rest of his life in solitude
once he learns of this
wretched flaw imbued in women
but the human race is
a complex and delusional
as a recipe itself.
it has never been  
made possible to reach a woman
from the same exact  
point of view.

i wouldn’t call it misogny,
it goes both ways.
the right women are preoccupied.

did i caught you right there? . .

fin.

the following additions will seems like plastic
surgery,
               and in turn will put the encompassed
poem under much strain,
  but as i will say: a 48h marathon can do
that to your narrative "skills"... well... techniques...
   esp. given it's winter in the northern
hemisphere, and two nights and two days
actually feels like three nights and two days,
given we're into our second day, and i've already
experienced a night-time this morning looking
at the clock.

  italics will be pleasantly omitted...

        instead... a maxim style akin to la Rochefoucauld
will be adopted... to merely insert
             toothache when otherwise the ***
is sitting on a leather sofa and thinking what would
be a better chance to juice up the brain with a
psychoactive sedative-effect, i.e. with what liquid?
    coffee on the brain is a sahara, as is famously
known: arabs love their coffee... and their
  baklava dressed in balaclavas - or as we say in
Europe: there's enough water, so we drink alcohol.
    turns out diabetic rates only go down in arabia
if enough sports cars are imported... must be
the g-force diet.

         but hey! look at the title! the title was always
going to to resemble the final version of
the preliminary work, the sketch, of what went on
last night...
                   beginning with the scariest film i have ever
seen: a horror movie without anything to do with
night or its aura (i was about to say aurora, never mind),
a movie from 2002... which ended being more scary
even it almost bagged the lead role an oscar...
        and then what i can only claim to be better than
gaming these days... taking graphic novels onto screen...

which brings me to a question, and if i ask the question
with a mature enough wording,
i might actually get a serious debate going...
     namely? x-men, first class...
         and i share something with this theme,
did you know that people remember far away from
Chernobyl parks being pigmented, where
   there were segregational duo-incisions in the trees
from the radiation? it happened nearing when i
was born, spring, and the women were told to drink
iodine... that 2002 film shows iodine treatment
   on "mental" patients, you pour enough iodine down
the nostrils you get a better understanding of
epilepsy... ah... the magical things people could ever
think of doing on another human being, let alone
   a courgette, or a steak...
                well, yes, in parks, half the trees were
the colour of spring, all green and asparagus juicy...
the other half were brown, and decaying,
    almost potato skinned, if not simply: potato skinned.
      as i said, i was a foetus at the time,
and apparently some Scandinavian got a microcosmic
whiff of it and panicked... let alone those exposed
too close to Chernobyl, a radiation-pH spectrum
emerged, of who and how they were exposed it...
    cancer, for example, is prevalent in Poland of
those who don't get to experience a midlife mental
disorder of buying a yacht... lucky them...
   which fits nicely into the seriousness of graphic
novels, as that film unbreakable clearly demonstrates...
  all realism of graphic novels actually stems
from batman... my favourite... no super-powers,
plus i had a simulation of being orphaned and raised
by my grandparents for 2 - 4 years while my early
psyche developed, and then redeveloped utilising
a different language, then went back to settle old dues,
and then went back again: charged with having read
    antoine de saint-exupéry on a year long
hiatus that allowed me to watch the 1998 world cup
              in a dark-lit room with my great-grandmother
and see France win... with such jubilation as if
Napoleon just came back from Elbe for seconds.
this is not the point, i said i would word it maturely
and not look half as an ***:
    why does francis xavier sympathise with
max eisenhardt, but belittles james "logan" howlett?

   all things start so small, i just remembered listening
to this song that allows you to lay down words like
bricks in a wall (prometheus' 9th - the man who swam
through a speaker)...

  why does he, is francis xavier just ******* that
one of logan's mutation counter-pluses is his ability
   to regenerate health and vitality, while at the same time
creating a amnesic hinderance to apply his psychopathy?
i guess it is... max on the other hand as unchanging:
fixed memory coordinates, because physically:
he's unscratched... up to a point of how this debate
runs its course... i just don't see how francis has to
belittle logan... just like henry "hank" mccoy is first
belittled as simply bigfoot... the problem with
amnesia is that even you have the capacity to
engage in telepathy (rooting out distant pathologies
rooted deep inside your psyche that never allow
you to reach a full potential - or what's Freud's
case of postulating receding pathologies and subsequently
creating a forward looking theory to work with
in creating uninhibiting constructs -
       francis xavier? nothing more than a psychiatrist...
in the modern sense, without iodine treatment,
or electric-shock-therapy... rather the guy that
says everyone is special via talk-therapy...
  and all psychiatrists have this child in them:
they all want to be telepathic... just like all
manual labourers want to be telekinetic) -
           the oldest chestnut, if there ever was a hazelnut
to boot.

       original, as except of what is to come...
  i mean, what i started off is now bound to italics,
  just to make a point that after watching 48 hours
of things, and having finally looked at symbols,
    i could only write so much coherently,
before donning what looked like some poet's clothes,
and stepping into a foggy highnoon for
  a bottle of beer, a bottle of whiskey, and
     a prescription of insomnia pills...
   well (they're called anti-depressants for old people,
who prefer to treat their "depression" - if not
merely old age, while they're asleep)...

no one would ask for this type
of hiatus...
       some would call it:
being an american spy,
      getting caught in soviet
russia and enduring interrogation
techniques -
    yes, a "hiatus" of nearing
48 hours: of being constantly awake.
       or what certain former
east europeans going back
   to see family members might
ask about, when Lithuania, Estonia
and Latvia are under a national
sway of general jittering paranoia
as reported by English newspapers
   and later established by
            an American president's
tour of the region -
                         or how Crimea
is the 37th or 38th or whatever no. it's
now - or whether it's
           Tartar autonom oblast -
but indeed, nearing a 48 hour long
insomniac "hiatus".

            and i can sympathise with francis xavier
experiences when max eisenhardt is first encountered,
this sharpness of a psyche, rather than its automation
or literal non-existence... this is why i could
            stay up for longer than 48 hours if i wanted to,
but i can see so much in being awake for so long
that natural consequence is that:
a. i have lost the capacity to dream,
  b. i have translated the capability to dream into code
(namely the letters you see before you)
   and
c. i have found a "safe-space" to recuperate from
the pain i feel...
  meaning
      d. i know with what ease people acquire a substance
known as a soul... and with what ease they can
think in this substance, like a fish in water...
    what i'm talking is a lobster a boiling basin,
where your exoskeleton can mean a lot upon
jumping off a cliff, but when your inner flesh,
starts to be almost eaten by the mutation of protein
from tapeworm larvae into edible meat?
      i know this substance, i have experienced it...
and i know that i dare not put a soul into a foetus
that doesn't have a workable tongue, bladder and ****.
  i think it's time to end this preliminary "work".

THREE DECADES AND EIGHT, and here's a glimpse on how it feels to be alive in my late 30's:

1. It's not all rainbows and unicorns. It's more like a series of unfortunate events and mundane everyday problems.🤦
2. Substantial amount of coffee for breakfast. Or could be home chores, wailing kids. Or rush compliances and paper works. Could be all three, depending on my luck.🙄
3. You always get what you wished for. At a younger age, I wished for a job and kids and it was granted -- certainly not my dream job or dream kids though. I have a stable job and two adorable, lovely girls but how I wish I was more specific then, like "God, pls I want a less toxic, high-paying job and well-behaved kids".🤭
4. Everything hurts for no reason -- my head, my back, my heart. Emotional breakdown visits me frequently, and I've got hangovers from a glass of wine I've drank few weeks ago.🥴
5. Knowing the right thing to do and knowing a greater excuse not to do it. Too many things to do, too little time to accomplish them all but I just can't let the couch down, waving for a nap.😆
6. I've got list of favorites lately.  Favorite people I irregularly talk and hang out with, like maybe once a month or two but love me anyways (shout out to my super friends!). Favorite grocery store because I'm too lazy to go out & explore others. Favorite outfit, mainly shirts & pants, because dressing up upsets me now -- as the age increases, so does the insecurities. Every food is my favorite because it's not everyday that I could afford to eat with gusto. Favorite work out now is moving a muscle while walking to the fridge to get some food or to the nearest socket to charge my phone. My favorite childhood memory? Not paying the bills.😛
7. Getting invites from friends to go out, excitedly sending confirmations to join, then cancelling on the last minute because suddenly I'm too lazy to socialize.😁
8. Working hard to pay the bills & other responsibilities. If I badly needed a break or a sleep, I take the pill if tiring myself with my bike or disturbing my neighbors with my awful singing and guitar doesn't work.😩
9. There is no certainty in love. The fear that life will shatter again and that the pieces I carefully glued will never be the same explains the distance and the high walls.😣
10. Just watching my phone rings because it's rude to cancel, then getting back to whoever called/texted three days later, or depends on my mood and availability to reply. Unless of course if it's work-related, family & close friends matters, or from someone worthy of my time because nonsense & cheap convos no longer interests me.✌️
11. People come and go, letting them pass along and accepting that nothing stays the same because I believe there's more to life than chasing people and dreams not really meant for me. Life goes on, and so must I.💪
12. The best things in life are not things, but the few people who make me feel loved and cared for. Or the simple things I usually take for granted like a goodnight sleep, a decent meal, the sunset, a beautiful song, the simple joys of watching my kids sleeping peacefully and hearing my parents' laughter, and knowing that the rest of my whole fam is surviving well during this pandemic. I don't have the best of everything but I make the best of what I have, thank you Lord.♥️

You mature with the damage, not with the years, dear self. Au revoir to an old version of you,  and bonjour to a better, stronger you.🔥

Aside from New Year’s Eve specials, it’s a lean week for original programming. Still, there are a few stand-out offerings. Here’s what caught my eye on television this week:

Sunday: “Undercover Boss” 7 p.m., CBS: Yeah, it’s just a reality program, but it’s one of the only new network offerings tonight, so we’ll take it.

Monday: “Happy New Year, Charlie Brown” 7 p.m., ABC: The ol’ blockhead hunkers down with some choice Tolstoy during these Peanuts’ festivities.

“******: Cape Cod, USA” 8 p.m., HBO: This documentary explores the grip of addiction through the stories of eight twenty-somethings.

Tuesday: “The 38th Annual Kennedy Center Honors” 8 p.m., CBS: Host Stephen Colbert pays tribute to Carole King, George Lucas, Rita Moreno, Cicely Tyson and Seiji Ozawa; James Taylor, Janelle Monáe, Yo-Yo Ma and others perform.

“Almost Genius” 9 p.m., truTV: This new reality comedy series looks at folks who fall just short of their goals. They should be knocking on my door any day now.

Wednesday: “The Twilight Zone” 6 p.m., Syfy: The annual marathon features 156 episodes of the acclaimed anthology series and ends on Jan. 3.

“In Defense of Food” 8 p.m., PBS: Michael Pollan trots the globe in search of people who eat for health.

Thursday: “The Simpsons Movie” and New Year’s marathon, 5 p.m., FXX: The animated motion picture kicks off a back-to-back showing of 56 episodes.7 p.m.

“**** Clark’s Primetime New Year’s Rockin’ Eve With Ryan Seacrest 2016” 7 p.m., ABC: Whew! That title was so long that it’s almost 2017. The special breaks for local news and resumes at 10:30 p.m.

“Pitbull’s New Year’s Revolution, Part 1” 7 p.m., Fox: Jussie Smollett, Shawn Mendes and others help the performer ring in 2016 from Miami.

“Live from Lincoln Center” 7 p.m., PBS: Alan Gilbert leads the New York Philharmonic in a Parisian-themed New Year’s Eve special.

“NBC’s New Year’s Eve Game Night With Andy Cohen” 9 p.m., NBC: The Bravo star hijacks the prime time portion of Carson Daly’s annual holiday event.

“NBC’s New Year’s Eve With Carson Daly” 10:30 p.m., NBC: And again, Daly is relegated to late night.

Friday: “Sherlock on Masterpiece” 8 p.m., PBS: It’s practically the only non-rerun programming on tonight, but it’s really the only programming you need. The special finds Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman’s Holmes and Watson solving a case in 1895 London.

Saturday: “Galavant” 7 p.m., ABC: Four episodes of last season’s surprise hit musical comedy air back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

“Austin City Limits” 7 p.m., PBS: Alabama Shakes and Vintage Trouble perform.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses

I took my old rickety-rackety down to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety
I glimpsed a flit of Thilts, purring Brazkets in a row
    a couple of Thrice Heim'ed Tippens
        and even one thundering Lugubrious Quandry
but mine was the only rackety that day at the Jickety Jackety

circuited with spection and plick-placked with aghast
did trundle my rickety-rackety with nary a quinkle
    "Welcome to the 38th annual Jickety Jackety", trumpeted the Sonorator
        "we eagerly await the clinking of clonks, the unexpected wabeling, and the ever hazardous finale"
    "a grand spectacle, a cacophonous din,"
    "shall the Jickety Jackety begin!"

a clamor strode through the spectators and washed over the contenders
as tension undid and knotted brows
    stitching and sewing a slurry and tangle

did dribble-thrash the Brazkets at the first note of "-in!"
on surged the Thraggonks not to be out done
        as my rickety-rackety gave a confident thitter-thatter
    and did dance onwards midst a flock of Thilts
        and my rickety-rackety chortled with patter
    firmly did lumber the Lugubrious Quandry
        each motion a thunder, it proceeded grandly
the chitter and natter as the crowds ribboned and tattered
the slither stomp wander of contenders contested
the sun ran slipshod down to the horizon
as Sonorator sang close the end of the the 38th

that day I went down to the Jickety Jackety
me and my rickety-rackety

there is ice cream in your hair again, it's strawberry like last summer and pink like broken plastic
there was a pretty boy on 38th street, he made me laugh because i used to think i could only love a six-petaled rose or a green garbage truck. but there he was & i think i might grow old
you hate when i complain, don't you, but that's okay because she'll always kind of make me want to die, or move to venice. either way i wouldn't get to see you again & i guess that's supposed to be sad.

hey isaac, it's good to have you back. i think we both changed a lot, you're a little dizzier now and im a lot less purple. i still can't give you my address because they repainted the old house. isaac, it's such an ugly shade of (beige?) now- it makes me want to forget the last four years. they cut down the juniper trees, too, i saw the dead flowers and i didn't cry
i don't think ill ever grow out of the shower or the floorboards. ill sit here forever, waiting for cement blocks & burning hair & suffocation

Got thee at toe high
While newly arrived
Ornamental plant
Small and violet
This one I don’t know!

Owned by academe
UP Visayas
Of town of Miagao
I’m still with students
Who are on field trip

Just been oriented
Then picture-taking
About nine-fifty
Day twenty-seventh
Of month September

At the very front
Of the Oblation
At the New Admin.
Of UP Miagao
A landscaped area

This I must get too
‘Coz it’s a token
From where I was once
Everyday in life
I feel very glad!

-09/27/2013
(Dumarao)
*My Toladas Collection

I.

i struggle to find some alternative to her snoring and her moaning and her talking about magic numbers associated with keeping or reaching a perfect space in which to live, but i have to find alternatives...

Kurt Vonnegut Jr.

       a reading by Jordan (a) Peter's son:

sum: in Icelandic:
everyone's everybody or someone's ibin
a son of...

hereson boujeron...
did i: mishear that?

maybe my listening "skills"
are not up to scratch: whether vinyl
or liquirice
liquid not D but still
it's not Lick-a-Rish: reesh: reach!

envy of the stars...

liquirice... spelling mistake: underlined
in red...
liquorice... LIK-O-REESH...
reed?

            i much prefer fennel: seeds...
but i also know
that...
well: no surprises...

Roman cumin is standard cumin: "standard"...
but in the same way
Caraway Seeds are also categorized
as cumin (elsewhere):

pizza for dinner
and i "suffer" a suffering of this
doughy platitude that
doesn't: envelop the jaw to bite
for worth of bone, sinew, marrow slurp,
this dough like this sickness
borrowed from
the metaphor
whereby words become transfixations
to call wine blood
to call bread body
this is not what the Slavic atheists
envisioned as simply
necrophilia
but this is poetic cannibalism
what sick mind gives this envy
and mindless watered down soliloquy
not even St Boniface or Augustus

i write this as if waking up
to the simultaneous revelation of
both Auschwitz and Golgotha
equal in parody
this tender kept heave! heave!
i find not Euro-centrism in Christianity
therefore?
i can: clearly! disregard it as
something to curl and to tend to "shy intellects"
fervent ground: fertile ground
where Christianity should be
not a crutch on the spirit of the European
but a post-European dumping
ground
like... Africa... parts of China...
somewhere south in the tropics of Vietnam...
Africa (again)
south America:
and... north America...

i can't stand this cult of the "misplaced"...
"missing": cosmopolitan Messiah
this: no wandering in the desert for
40 years by god the Arabs and the Egyptians
are having a field day of
explaining who's who in the plagiarism of:
nobody to borrow or steal from...

so i was skim reading today's newspaper
and finally realized:
CLASS...
a hierarchy a society
not that i beg to differ
but so much of authoritative print
is based upon the middle-class
and their loss of cooing when pigeons
make authority of the sound...

so much CLASS: opinions i really have
no concern for...
in my little corner
i can sort of breathe an opinion off myself:

"decolonizing" the teaching of philosophy
disregarding Plato et al
as somehow "white":
like the Mediterranean curls and olive glistening
was: up to what point
will we conjure up "whiteness"
to say: oh hell yes! the Finns were the white
oppressors all along!

coming to terms with Anglo-Saxon
****** trivialities of
power-end submission-begin dynamics
like for me:

it wasn't enough to bed a 55 year old woman
to finally realize: in my 38th year
that somehow:
getting my rocks off at the prospect of
a 20 year old "body" who
punctuated *** with: pay-me-more
for: oral *** for the fingers slipping
into **** and guitar was
a saxophone's polyphony with trumpets
and trombones

and how those black men allowed
us to escape the rigidity of genius music
in score
in orchestra
with all that silence before the crescendos
so freely
this is some Jazz Musicians' Appreciation
Society?!

the Euros have started and i watched
Germany trash Scotland 5 - 1
but it wasn't just about watching
the football
that was in the background
like music like radio 4: BBC 4
i'm going through a breakup
and i'm cheating
with the workaholic me
the one that scribbles a tonne of words
with a search for some signets
in Katakana and Cuneiform
and Jesus
Jesus saying as much as he did
just doesn't cut it for me
i need a fire of intellect
and by simply nodding along
to those sayings
cages in on Kauai:
in London:
but not in Princeville.....................................

II.

am i such a bad man?
today i felt neuter good: atheistic less
and solipsistic more

i shoveled pebbles from one side
of the garden to the other
to make room for measurements
of garden furniture:
WIKLINOWE... the **** does that mean:
i so didn't want to hurt her
i made an SS-man incision
with a scalpel
and shared two videos
then the cutting words: THE END...
her religiosity got in her way
her kindness and femininity
a complex got in the way
her *** got in the say
and opened a many other ways
to see

am i a bad man?
i never cheated with her in the 4 years
long distance relationship
impossible to live
like that on DOPAMINE hits
the chemist in my ignored it for far
too long...
those were dopamine hits
having met on the Jesus Trek
i wondered: am i not riding my bicycle
that many times?

me mother and father were
actually woken up by a smell...
my female cat left us...
woken up by a smell:
not a sound...
a smell...
the **** blew the roof off and all
the rats turned into lizards...
i'll admit: some turned into cockroaches...
but then that was a far reaching
Apocalyptic B-movie B-Plan
of the vermin
i imagine a flag of central Europe:
i see four colors...

black
red
yellow
white

      yes: that's the flags of Germany, Poland
and the Vatican..

i feel like such a bad man
but today i felt normal:
i broke up with a girl and i spared myself
what i already knew:
she had a meeting with her friend
and her friend's friend some artist
from California
and i already knew:
but she prolonged
then she heard i was inheriting property
in Poland
and so she stuck around
for a bit longer
and the torture continued

and there was more Jesus than Christ
then someone broke in and starting
shouting: Immanuel!
Immanuel!
                
                    Isaiah: make me return among
this plagiarism: who the **** brings
a book into a forest?!
like who blings with: brings forth
a glass pane to the desert?!
i ask! i ask!

this is writing with interlude this is no
case for the Editorial High Priest
for this writing to reach the masses:
perhaps a few
out of what, i ask?

not out of difficulty?
i don't ask out of vanity
or snobbishness:

in the night i heard the words:

CO ROBISZ:

not: CO TY ROBISZ?

nor TY ROBISZ...

translation?

what (you) do       (beyond lost in translation:
a bilingual loss of translation,
translating into English from Polish
where there is less "shrapnel":
less conjunction not so frequent stress on
pronouns...

CO ROBISZ...

   what you do:

             because there was not question
asked by my father as i jumped
an inch quicker to send that cat ****
for examination in the sewers and picnics...

CO TY ROBISZ: yes:
the pronoun interrogative structure of sentence
even without a ? stressor at the end
would be just that: half asleep father with
burning nostrils like i...

TY ROBISZ: i sort of wish he said that
but by saying that
he would be implicit in deeming me a god:
but i am not: you (are) doing...

robienie would be the exactness of
doing...
since it is indefinitely placed in grammar:

ROBISZ is a DO- without an -ING
just like:
BJE could  be the antithesis word
from BE- within the confines of BEING
via -ING
but unlike the -ING of DO- and BE-
one can say that: stressed using the articles of
"atheism":

DO or NOT do...
either way: you're going to: BE!
to do and to be are: indefinite articles..
doing and being are: definite articles!

to do not to be
is doing is being
is not neither
not being and
not doing
but rather
either doing
and not-doing
or
being and
           not-being...

III.

have i left a daughter?
i would not have so many transcendental
euphoric experiences
of simply coming back from work
and acknowledging:
t.v. is acid
need the alkaline gangrene of
whiskey and marijuana
and day-dream come 11pm...

have i left a daughter?
i left a lover
and no amount of ****
will suffice but hell i know it now
and it's like horror movies
i now watch without being scared
so i watch *******
without being aroused
or trying to find paths to the stars...
learned it with intimacy
par excellence:

but i can't forgive her
the book: initiated like a Kantian
categorical imperative
like that wording somehow deafens
the blow
the turn the other cheek
i will never do
but am under sort of forced will:
not free will:
not enslaved will:
i am forced to: live this will...
from free will
to enslaved will
to forced will...

i turned the other cheek to Samir
not Kibsi
not Qarri
not... Samir-Saffar-Ali...

               i have been forced to muse:
to mule the alkaline and acids
the salts and the sugars
i am one carrot shy of a donkeys'
ride on a roller coaster...

                      21 years and i'm not counting:
perhaps that intelligence
deviation:
i explain it as:
been on the construction site for 40
years and didn't use ear guards of moth cloth
or worked in the events industry
as a security guard
and gone deaf from teenage screams
or listening to my headphones
with music from teenage me
almost shortening the switches:
man needs torture! torture!
make his ego come up with excerpts
coming and going
not a sleeper narrative:
i think i am i **** i eat i welcome
i pet i zoo i transgender i stink of glue...
i ergo i plus i minus i divide
i shave i live i outlive i ferment i create god

IV.

but this sharp sound in my head
from the word
whispered into my head via ear:
PIENIADZE: money...

oh but the devil can exist outside
the human world
allowed to be a shaman of shadow
and torrential rains! discipline!

watching too much ****
can make you forgot your original
wits and measures
of watching with disgust two
serpents:
two snails... mating: asexually
it would seem...
even now... the woodland pigeons
seem to be...           GANDU!

GANDU! gay: in Urdu...
sorry... this last work advert i saw stressed
that there are preferential ethnic characteristics
concerning a job role:

best be BLACK
ASIAN
NOT CHINESE
NOT RUSSIAN
BLACK AND ARAB
AND INDIAN AND URDU
BEST BE GAY TOO
TRANSGENDER NO
JUST LGBTQ+ queue too!

can't be white:
even German white is too white
so like German English
history is nothing
because oh i'm pretty sure
a Somali can joke
about Nigerians not hearing themselves
but then again
i'm just a white guy
with two Africans born of immigrants
and two immigrants
on the Bananas Bahamas..

this is the Royal Academy of Arts...
the job is simple...
£26,000 a year...
for... 16h worth of work over 2 days...
but...
Africans and Asians (not the Chinese,
of Japanese: didn't you know that Japanese
are ****?!) and GAYS...
#GIMPSFREEPALESTINE...

  so... not anyone necessarily competent
in faking and then flaking a smile?
no... none of that?
not anyone intelligent
just a racist mantra reignited
because if that **** has been
then let's return to the god of tribalism
and not any: withholding
god of the intellect when the Quran
was first scribbled down!

time for: herding the people...
it's an ugly prospect but
it's one that has been measured as occuring
countless times in history
without any real focus of entrapped
leverage of importance...

for weeks i thought myself this terrible man,
this...
ah.... but language and its own purposes
arrived and were left waiting
and i too waited: in steam and ferment
and the prospect
of a meteor
and i too decided: as *** the envious
parody of when is intellect to be envied
to be pardoned like a mutation

heart broken: heart mended:
heart broken: heart mended:

   hertz gebrochen: herz fest
   hertz gebrochen: herz fest

           Schottland!

         wurde ich geboren
                   mit einem
                         deutzschintellekt?

We were the generation
caught between country
and Penny Lane

The sheds with roofs of
rusty tin

Turned to streets paved to no end

World War two became the deviding line

The modern day Maginot Line

Time swallows all creating
history pages in high school books

We moved faster than the weather
Like tornadoes from state to state

From Air Force base to base
from war to war

From each other ,
our own 38th Parellel
or Demilitarised Zone
family wise

Now today's Purple Hearts
and Medal of Honors
collect dust in a chesterdrawers full
old photographs turning
brown to age

I still smell the dusty dried straw in the old shed
that the tears will never wash away

what's in a name what's in a name
in the end
within a name there is no name
but a pre-noun and a pronoun
and          that glorious word THING
and boomerang not a boomerang
of I to It
           to I as It           and It a non-It
a spoke
              the spokes in a wheel...
a wheel is an Ezekiel
                     is my first learning of the name:
little Yash                 and jesz? i.e.
are you eating?    my words my silences
my atonement for say:
the miraculous spring afternoon
finding myself enjoying the act of reading:
regardless of what i'm reading:
or rather i am actually reading Frank Herbert's
Dune but i should be reading
al-Masudi's the meadows of gold
and currently that's a first edition
on amazon going for
£47.99
            so until i get a wife and a surrogate
daughter i can and will splash out
on books in the purchasing window
of £30 to £50 and since i'm not rich
enough of rich-autistic enough
or autistic enough
to be splashing on paintings
like that story of the founder of Barbie
no not Ruth Handler
before pornographic magazines
the Swiss invented the Susie Susan Sour-****
to gag men into
the predicaments they found themselves
in as world war ii bomber pilots
then came the infamous poster reel
from Shawshank Redemption and
boys those girls those flinging-mig-magic jazz
of ****
those lonely nights
and days
but mostly the nights
and on my 38th birthday i masturbated
like 3 times
because a day prior i was talking
to a friend outside of the Spurs' Coliseum
and we talked about being 38 and 72
and cancer of the prostate and how he got
it removed and now can't get an *******

i would have killed to venture into
the ear to eye osmosis
of being at the
Boris Brejcha at Arènes de Nîmes...
artist to artist
this is not me Matthew Arnold
a limp **** poet
crying to bed after seeing Liszt play
because music has changed
and there's no genius of music
but a genius of music-inclusion therapy...
"therapy" / therapy?

Friday came a little late: now that i'm imagining things,
writing on a chrome book
in my own room i remember days
when i used to drink a liter of whiskey
and write from 10pm to 5am
having given up smoking marijuana
at the age of 21 weighing in at 65kg
after an experience
with: what i'm guessing...
not Jesus and not Yashwa...
but rather: and i only learned of his name today:

dualism of monotheism: the little yahweh...
                       A

           E          Y         I                   𐤃

                                                   ∇
                  O       U

yad dah...
           YDDH...

                     turbulent lessons in how the consonants
are props and vowels drift in and out
to allow for Semites to transliterate nouns
Semites need to transliterate nouns
which cannot be said
of Matthew of Mateusz of Mateo
but Matthias says it's possible...

the angel: Metatron...

                        i'm seeing Mega:
like the movie Tron (updated like Dune updated)
and the soundtrack and something megalomaniac...
like the affairs of non-existence
of supposing within
pre-noun pronoun
preposition and proposition
are so why can't a pre-noun
exist before i learn the names of things
before i inject conjunctions and adverbs
big and small
i usher in a chemical laboratory of
Ar Na Cl He Fe
no Ar...

natrium chlorum
    helium            ois

                 ferrum...

terra ferrum: iron earth
                              in akimbo venturing for
broken bones and fixation on bones
206 of these...
and i overheard that Muhammad Ahmed
knew the exact number of bones
in the human body (does that include the teeth?)
32 teeth...
   that's 9 vowels and 23 consonants
in the Polish alphabet...
bad tooth England only has 26 letters
and boast all it can about Latin VQ
it does not have...

oh not bones then joints
i heard about the number 350 being cited...
although i sometimes wonder
about O and little o
of degrees and that's really thinking about
the 0 and to the power of
infinity is infinity oscillating in
a duality: even and especially if it's
a monotheism:
why then o why i wonder
at the predicament of Islam
because it is not out simple migration
but the excesses of Dubai must
be hitting the average muslim hard
if they be wanting to move with us
European paupers, no?
us drunken savages we are savages
and we returned to our pagan ways
just as i might have predicted why
Poland defended the pagan power
of Lithuania and why Christianity
never really spread to certain parts of Europe
but was kept in check by some
Russian Greek or Varangian...

i saw it in his eyes when his father
head-butted one of this soldiers
i'd bet i will put a bet on, everything i have...
on Usyk beating Fury...
the odds?

Fury 5/6 ahead of Usyk at 11/10
strange numbers...
i saw Bohun in his eyes
the cossack romantic figure in Sienkiewicz'
with Fire and with Sword...
yes saw it and this is the only sport
i'd bet on with a heart of a gamble
beyond the £1.00 threshold
unlike Bukowski betting on horses
i did similar antics
betting on scores in football...
but nothing major always stingy no greater
thrill than earning money
and saving money
and then spending it on kayaks or canoes
or books or compact disks or
£12 summer dresses and what not
however the trend is these days
last time i tried tapping into anything
relevant on the internet
but same old:

men, bears and £12 summer dresses
that are like the rule
pulled up in the forest on the sly
with no suspenders or tights
just the suntanned skin with no wintry
attaches of still ***** still
playing chess still not playing
backgammon still no chess
unless with a kid
and i loved how i saw the engineering
of AI in chess games
and how the kid was losing and
just because she's a girl doesn't mean
i'll let her win
or that i'd let her win no because
i didn't but i don 't mean playing
chess with a ****** partner
or watching t.v. with her
because no unless there might be physical
dimensions askew like how could
we possibly do it, physically speaking
i mean how could we when we couldn't
and that would be her licking
the eyepop pop-sickle sickly sweet
no teeth grandma ***
or me and her already wrinkled *****
slurping oysters
Bang Dan... Bang Dan... sounds Vietnamese...

why would: ah: authenticity...
38 outside the range
but in the range 21 - 35 have to complete
3 months of agricultural labour
to qualify as citizen of Australia...
i think that's rather nice...
i only submitted the form on a whim
but i received no automated response...
instead a Jamie Chirpseer
got in touch: apparently they have been calling

now i don't know but
last time i "measured"
that's only an 8h50 flight from Auckland
to Hawaii
so i'm thinking why set my foot behind
a door with a mother in law
watching scoop me up Jesus
t.v. and being all paranoid about my status
as ******* on the closed enclosure
of Kauai
but i sure as **** threw a decent birthday
party by the pool
well shared but this is claustrophobic writing
i.e. claustrophilic my ego
says there is a cursor and pre-
to nouns so i'm cleared: cleared by I'II"
however many that is:
1 foot 11 inches last time i checked...
ego-**** that is: the little horn on my head
that turned into a hovering 360 degree eye spin...

seeing those last words written days
ago, happily discarded
now upon return with a pop-sensibility of aging
no new music but there are some unavoidable
stresses in neu alles neu: billy and eddy's
Lunch not naked Lunch not naked
all food in attire:
me sitting in a tuxedo and sneakers
with a baker boy's cap: some unifying piece of attire
whether you're at White Hart Lane
or whether at the Boleyn -
                  unifying attire like some distinction
between the Tribes of London gone out
of the window with the babies in a circus of bathtubs
falling from the sky
because raining cats and frogs
had all the dogs drinking from puddles of beer
morphing into hyenas - crying over Benson Boone
singing all god is jesus
and no god of a muhammad
there is no transliteration of tongues and words on
tongues and words not on tongues
but abstracted thought and missing in crosswords
because like a dyslexic being good with numbers
because is such a terrible word right
now...
but good in manners of speech: or is that speach
like i want to bite into a peachy apple
                         like crossbreeding happens and you
could craft champagne from thin air
breed a german shepherd and a spaniel
or what was used to breed a dachshund
from a dobermann...

   the Q and the Mark i.e.

                     Mark              +                Q(uelle)

                    ­                        =

                      Matt            ­   &              Luke

i came across people interested in religion and
the mammoth goliath that is Christianity
of conversation
and a revamp from the year 1945 from Egypt
the Nag Hammadi library -
and all that invoked by the Church Mothers
maybe another Frank Zappa moment if i could
sing but instead i found my voice
my voice in giving SIA a briefing after having
worked with stewards on a bag cordon
at Wembley...

now how to find respite, next day the cycle
still not fixed so house bound
at least able to wash the bedsheets
and hang them in the garden of sunlight
to then dress the bed once more in all that air
and wool
like floating sheep and perhaps horses with
wings
and perhaps apes to
and perhaps men with four arms and no more
than two feet
and perhaps wheels and fire and the internet
and printing and copying
and all that towers and gardens from Tokyo
to Baghdad -
                               cascade of the human experience
ethics is apparently objective
well i could have sown the swearing ogre oath
i loath in **** me **** me oh **** me
jurisprudence is subjectivity par excellence...
so rarely do you have judgement by the peers
by the jury: jurisprudence -
instead English law and the barrister
and judge and triangles of politics -
i hardly speak in the court of law -
perhaps fellow human will allow
me to think before god:
perhaps i can think before god
if i can't speak in the court of law if i can't speak
in the court of man then perhaps
i will be able to think in the court of god:
at least there's hope with me writing this down...

yes, i put a weird bet on two nights ago...
Tyson Fury vs. Olek Usyk...
bets on, whatever the algebra of gambling
5/6 and 11/10 as a decimal:

      0.8333                  and 1.1111

ニ: 0.747747748
      ホ: 0.9213

if i were to see mathematics with letters,
notably division by the first number
and multiplication by the second numbers
(Ni                   **)

but at least no muddle with too many numbers
like too many notes in Mozart's
'seph II  Holy Roman Emperor (1765-1790)

    ヨーヨー                 (yoo yoo toy boy not
yo! or yo-yo                but no ideogram?

let me rummage...)

                         bandalore... idea: image at least
some     :)                  or some :'(

      maybe get a hummingbird tattoo on my neck
in devotion to the Aztex i.e.  Huītzilōpōchtli

pero āmo tēchentenderoa lo que tlen
tictoah en Nahautl                                 TLEN:
oxi         oz                       oxygen-c-c

                           TKANKA: tis            tss tis tss
Sue: Ssue...                   SS: Ś
                    i.e. tissue:
                                                       /ˈtɪʃ.uː/ /ˈtɪs.juː/

maybe a truly phonetic poem
or a truly transliterated biblical text
a snippet only a snippet because i have enough
of a day to live to spend another hour
or so in akimbo or on my knees
before the writing desk that's my bed
no no: but a short equip-me "poem"
a quirk like a sneeze to base my focus on tissue
and SS i.e. Ś
and other instances i could possibly see it in
in the English tongue...

all of a sudden working with Pakistanis, Bangladeshis
and the Sudanese is or can ever be
about a white English boy with some
post-colonial stresses and ancestry questions
about why the former Commonwealth
Empire imploded and no wonder
given the Civil War in Sudan
why then complain about the English i wonder
but i don't have that problem
given no one can really look sensibly accusing
the Polacks of imperialism and colonialism
base mention of Mongols and the Ukranians
while the Lithuanians dwarfed under Russian Stalinism
and what remnants of German blood
fused during the northern crusades
to give birth to a German fusions of
Estonians, Prussians, Latvians and the Fins
at least we know that the Prussian pagans steered
the gentle happy german soul
for some time or so the romanticism goes...

                  this is still writing under the influence
of Billie Eilish's LUNCH on repeat:
the glad days of my 20s spent never speed dating
not really singing sad songs of psychopathic love triangles
and later sycophantic bare minimum poetry
yuck cringe and are we of the first people
to be given a literacy adventure in proficiency?
so my little historical debrief:
well... it's all funny how i too came on a banana boat
with the rest of them
that astounding reflection of a Pakistani from Luton
born and bred with mosque like a seashell brought
along in the night of the crimson moon
the LESBIAN flag of ISLAM
i.e. the marriage of the girl moon and Venus...
because isn't that "star" with the crescent not Venus
unless that's Venus with a scimitar
and who was the woman of the origins of Islam
running between two hill tops with her son
looking for water?
Hajarah and concubine of Ibrahim?

              at the diner with Ismail having no dinner
but food for thought
in some absent heaven and in some absent hell
but rather in a limbo of grey objects
and a blistering itch of sunshine that
turns a hyperbolic white skin of the north
a golden serpent glee
and invokes spying for the Greeks or ancient
Romans in Lebanon
with: mind you: with all those Pale Orthodox Jews
might just fit in...
but wait: i digress... i've been looking for an ideogram
for a yo-yo... wasn't i?
a yahoo too: a yo-yo playing with a yahoo
when there was whey and rye and lasso and spey
and whatever way was in the where...

          ilocano: aj aj: moje kolano

         (exercise in pain onomatopoeia
         and possessive article: moje / mine
         noun: kolano / knee)

oh yes... and a rubric of the bets i made on the Tyson
Usyk match-up... tailors to the glove
a dash of Polansky on the ring...
left right tango with tango of men
so rough **** so not like ******* a woman
so unlike...

thus:

    no yo-yo: but axle:                        軸
my guess is as good as anyone's
with however many confines of
//     \ |               |||          /|/|/      \|\|\

to quiz up a T                 or an L
let alone an O because so rigid have to swim
to Yippon for the proper edible tongue

now to reveal the Gambler and how i will never be
able to write yet admire
a Hemingway and a Bukowski...

Usyk by technical decision (100/1)
stake... £0.10
Fury by technical decision (100/1)
stake £0.10
Usyk by disqualified opponent (100/1)
stake £0.10
Fury by disqualified opponent (100/1)
stake £0.10
Usyk by decision of technical decision (2/1)
stake £5.00
net return £10.00
Usyk by KO, TKO or DQ (5/1)
stake £5.00
return £0.00

any anyone who might read the newspapers
would tell you
the decision was crystal clear, scientific,
on the margins, within talk of inches and decimals
and... ooh... itchy...
115-112, 114-113 to Usyk
and 114-113 to Fury...

rematch? what is now to be disputed is by winning
through that bet i made: 5/1
or rather 5:1 but ratios would be any less if
using a colon?
                               enough bark to patch up a
cagey sneer and then return to kiss daylights: out
because now somewhat disputable
in the arena or the courtroom
better judgement watching sport
than those daytime zombie land drug-shows
of the courtroom melodrama soaps
and operatic demand for feeding the collective
consciousness split seconds per day
accumulating into binge potato peeling of skin
and intellect on the sofa...
even now: hardly a waste of good coffee
   and tobacco...                with the added "spice"
of BIMBER... beam-bear to spread out the letters
and transliterate: not to imply anything beside
the phonetic arrangement
of the letters as beam-bear: it's still the meaning
behind BIMBER the sweet 45% *****...

(q)uelle: yet there is hardly a similar problem
associated with Socrates...
given the accounts by Plato
Xenophon oh and let's not forget Aristophanes...
especially him
because he was hardly all luvvy-dabbling in
writing works of just fiction...
satire of the lowest man in the village as it were...
well:

who wouldn't have said:

     pleasure is not only unnecessary,
     but a positive evil

i too have had the pleasurable burden and agony
of being able to cite
maybe saying maybe not saying
either way experiencing:
i'd rather be mad than feel pleasure -
further still what of pleasure and happiness
as distinctly opposite or not:
re-imagines (i)
                         the recently digested divulging
on meanings
constricted to words like guilt
and shame...                   thus too:
happiness and guilt                           pleasure and shame.

Oh Father God, look how frail we are to deserve Your wrath
Our sins are overwhelming like we are soaked in blood bath
Have mercy because sometimes we don’t know what we do
Have mercy because we call upon You
Your punishment is the most painful, everlasting
Hell is full, its screams are deafening
Cover us with Your Holy Spirit like an impenetrable shield!

-12/12/2015
(Dumarao)
*38th Daily Reflection from Catechism Booklet