as i am too old to learn anew,
so am i, too young
to learn bound to being staged:
having to learn afresh:
call this the thesaurus
proximity, the nearing of 0°
basis for geometric
denial, that no shape form:
other than one:
that be the linear "escapism"
of history, wholly linear
and never contorting,
encapsulating, and likewise releasing
back into the regurgitation
of the void.
  
which had superfluous kings for messengers;
and eunuchs for the party of five
of men who desired to keep harems...

i own no obligation to my genes,
as i might oblige the gut bacterium
the next host,
what is this? this profanity?
why am i owning an allegiance
to genes?
  what sort of allegiance is this?
this abomination?!
    
i abhor darwinistic reductionism!
i hate it! i hate it as much
as ancient greek abhorred
moral relativism!
the two are alike! i don't have what
you say!
recite, quote, or argue with!
darwinistic reductionism is:
just as abhorrent as moral relativism!
no no no, no!
   i ******* hate it!
i don't give two-***** worth of
a ***** martini's worth of acting
the bond part... no!

i own nothing of my ego's existence
to translate into: "passing on"
my genes...
  what are you, some vegetating
comatose athlete,
or the parkur with weak knees
and other joints?
what? what! what?!

      darwinism has to have an ugly
medusa head on the hydra,
and it's darwinistic reductionism:
the ancient greeks abhorred
moral relativism:
      me? being modern?
i abhore darwinistic reductionism,
because it equates itself to
moral relativism...

genes... the **** i care about my genes
being, or not being passed on?
i mean, should i really give serious concern
for this not being achieved?
really?
        really?!
       you have to be kidding me at this point,
genes translate into sentences,
make up words,
  make up a will...
the **** is important about genes?!

right now i can clearly see
heaven (amnesia & somnia)
& hell (nostalgia & insomnia)...

give me a break: it's much simpler than
fire and fluffy meringues...

they keep pushing this populist darwinistic
reductionism: i swear i'm going to crack...
darwinistic reductionism creates the vacuum,
that states:
    darwinistic relativism is not the right hand
of atheism:
    after all, there are no absolutes of
       a. there is and b. there isn't...
hence the space-time compedium:
there's time, but there isn't time within
time-space, that might make it indistinguishable from
space, and so in the thesaurus reverse...
might as well call it the close-contact
space=time: not so uncommon in chemistry...
esp. with carboxylic acids:
  
     i abhor what the ancient greeks abhorred:
moral relativism,
since a status quo necessitated itself out
ouf a per se impetus to encompass both,
rather than a robotic one-sidedness "perfect"...

but what the modern hasn't learned to abhor
is darwinistic reductionism...
    it's almost a secondary formulation of
theology, with the missing poetry...
i abhor darwinistic reductionism...
    what? genes? is that an argument?
am i really about to care about passing
    on my genes?
you have to give me a ******* break,
you really think this form of anglophone
existentialism is going to convince me?
bad luck, i'd sit with a francophone for
10 hours in a cafe talking *******,
over coffee and cigarettes...
   with an anglophone though?
i'd have to drink a litre of ***,
******* 10 times in a row...
    wipe my *** until i rubbed my ****
to reach the point of scrubbing
off accents of blood,
  read an act of shakespeare,
listen to some **** pop music...
     talk to his grandmother...
  and then: "consider" the option
of a 10 hour stretch of convo...

it happens all the time:
with entho-nationalist centralism...
you really can, exhaust an idea if you
cite it too many times, and for long enough
as to make it:
educational,
  i.e. boring, i.e. indoctrinating...
   which is what darwinism has become,
sadly enough; boring, indoctrinating,
this ******* should remain in schools,
not among public "intellectuals".

There once was a ***** old sailor

Who's ship he began to abhore

The sails wouldn't budge

They moved like a sludge

Until a maid handed him an oar

Are your goals incentive
To get you through your life
Is the end result a good one
Can you share it with your wife
Is it worth all of the struggling
To put up with the muddling
Of folks you just abhore
Of folks you'd soon ignore

Are your children on the sidelines
While you work away your years
Are they just collateral damage
As you work on through your fears
Do you ever think you'r losing them
That you may just be abusing them
Those children there
Show them you really care

Is it time to take a back seat
As you ride upon lifes train
Time to hand over the driving
Or are you to proud to abstain
Do you want to end up all alone
Go and throw the dog a bone
You're almost there
Nobody really cares

Take a step and join them
They're the ones you should support
Give up all the overtime
Or you'll end up in court
A lonely, hopeless businessman
Who always does the best he can
All alone
There's nobody left at home

Share your time with work and family
As you make your way along
Don't forget to hear the music
Don't forget to sing  the songs
It happens so **** easily
You only need to look at me
I stepped back
After a heart attack

Get priorities in order
don't forget just how to play
Don't put it on a bucket list
Go out and start today
The earlier you leave the race
The longer you'll be in this space
Come on...begin
The water's fine...now please jump in.

I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate,  before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.

But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for

There might be more to a coin flip than explored.

Intent and decent Vs stoical form

She saw him here today,
She tried hard to ignore,
Turning up like that,
With that ***** i so abhore,
My heart sinks low before her,
A brazen thief of love,
He gazes at her flauntily,
But it's me he's thinking of,
Her power over him is rife,
If only he could see me,
I'd win him back in one wink,
If from her grasp he'd flee,
I want his body nightly,
My loneliness gets worse,
Just one more moment with my love,
And i could break this curse.

You can hate me,
Abhore me,
Never text and ignore me,
I will never walk away.

You could double cross,
And cheat me,
Even mess around and beat me,
I will never walk away.

You have built a wall,
To shun me,
I'm as patient as i can be,
Please don't make me walk away.

In your dark moods,
I still love you,
And i thank the good lord for you,
Please dont make me walk away.

Shut me out ,
And never mind me,
Please be the man behind me?,
I'm trying not to walk away.

After all is said and done we,
Can make or break our destiny,
Let's together,
Walk away?? I Love You .............

get your ***** ******* grubs off of me,
i am not going to bargain
a cartesian dualism with the notion
that the body can overcome the mind
with exercise gimmicks:
you, *******, guinea nimwit!
        i used to slap my grandfather's
sheen on a bold, but otherwise
bald cranium for jokes,
  and flick his remaining hairs into
the air to reveal a hidden jack
nicholson, i also called the police
and had him institutionalised with
psychiatric aid, for throwing my
grandmother through a glass door and
breaking her arm...
       me?! you'll get more
apologetic "nuance" about drinking
from a priest than from, me!
         i turn ugly, silently,
       i just abhore this antique deal
with descartes,
               i don't know why why that
the body can overcome the mind...
or why blankety-blank trivia is to solve
the matter...
or whether pumping iron helps...
      by this point i''m not writing:
i'm coal-mining, i'm digging...
               the body, however perfect
will not unravel the problems of the mind,
attaining body antics perfected only
stalls the otherwise still present:
problems of the mind.
                       toxicology reports read:
adrenaline *****.
             sebastian mc'queer miss-match
between a cocktail waitress,
  a ******* bunny and a bartender named:
shteeve.
                 ******* waste of time
by my rubric of arithmetic...
  but at least ben affleck wasn't the worst
batman,
      we all know that george clooney was.
we have finally arrived at a loss
of mind-body dualism,
   we have achieved a dichotomy,
finally!
       we can, for the first time,
fathom clear segregating posits,
indicators,
                    membranes!
whatever noun you use -
                 the joke about schizophrenia,
is that it's not a joke concerning
        premature depression -
premature depression is more unusual
than premature dementia -
      there's the bicimeral theory
to begin with...
           unless of course you're dealing
with snowflakes who want languaage
as rigid as possible,
      readied for the acceptance of it,
like any type of i.k.e.a. put it together,
yourself, manual...
the mundane aspect of the whole affair
only breeds a gagging effect,
like choking on a 12" **** with your nose
pinched-shut,
  ******* disgusting;
  if i really wanted to draw a straight line
i wouldn't necessarily obligate language
to latex ******* *******...
           i'd be the one
adding oil to the fire, and wanting
unadulterated chaos,
  before the hell-fire focus of: inferno...
for language is just that:
   i abhor the term poet,
i prefer the term...
                               pyrotechnician...
i do not write poetry:
   i cement myself in pyrotechnics.
    i abhor this dualism -
            this notion that a sick mind can
be mended by being worked on by
a invigorated body,
      or that a sick body can be mended by
being worked on by an
invigorated mind...
   odd... to have such vehement emotions
surrounds a mere idea...
that there is no mind-body dualism,
but that there's a mind-body dichotomy...
and that there's only a mind-mind dualism
that, given the cartesian concept brideges
upon the res extensa: the extended thing,
whereby the mind-mind dualism
disintegrates when the notion of a, soul,
is involved / invested in,
perhaps as concrete rubric, or perhaps
as a mere cognitive, hobby...
  let us simply add:
   there are those who bow and pray and
pay due diligence to a god...
  while others, neither procrastinate themselves,
nor day allegiance to a, deity -
for there is so much more involvement in
entertaining the thought of a...
deity...
             and these cognitive
acrobatics never allow for a yawn
to be present, in their ritualistic endeavours,
with due need, or due, cause.

p.s. i think people really underestimate
schizophrenics, the abnormality of it
is fascinating...
      as is the case with the endeavour of
finding a soul, or as i like to call it:
the osmosis of psyche overpowering the mind,
and creating a mind-body dichotomy
rather than enforcing a mind-body "dualism"...
psychosis.
                   it's a shame how people
under-appreciate a mind-mind dualism...
a dualism, split, yet nonetheless whole...
     cf. julian jaynes...
                      but what isn't fascinating
is premature depression...
   that's just plain ******* tragic...
i can understand depression in old people,
who have actually accomplished something
in their lives...
but when it concerns youngsters?
completely unfathomable and
                    uninteresting to me,
on the basis that it's so abnormal that
it's suicidal and completely averted to
the otherwise schizoid exploratory tendency
of reintegrating a disintegrating form
of language structure... perhaps that's
a post-modernist statement...
but the "sane" always cite
being perplexed by language that's:
   non-instructive; b'aah b'aah...
******* herds, do we always have to whip
them into submission and cohort?
  yes, yes, the open end hyphen grammar
   -cohort-, that's transcendental grammar,
it's not supposed to be a noun,
rather, an adjective by-and-of-itself
revealing of the submissive character of
strict, military, discipline!
my ambition was never to write
a ******* i.k.e.a. manual for a: do it yourself
take on a folding chair!

With its roots embedded in the ground
The plant gains its vitality
Nourishments painstakingly climbs
Reaching its peak
The blossoming of the flowers
With the canopy shouting out loud

Aren't we all just trees
Rooted yet not literally grounded
Trading the rugged roads
With occasional stumbles
Refusing to fall.

We know the ground too well
It's where we came from
As we shine
Lest we forget what it means to us

Big power has took hold again
Lies paraded as half truth
Discernment has been lost in the process
Theirs hearts opened up to manipulation
Hatred fills their hearts
Through long standing acquiescent norm

Arise from the slumber
Power abhore vacuum
Greatness shall thrive in goodness
Lest we forget the root
It never ceases to bring wonder
To those who chose to stand their ground

numb to reality
trying to defy mortality
you just sit around and wait
like a lost cause
banging at the gate
depending on fate
that against all odds
you'll get a message from your false gods
and rise from the dust
forgetting the difference
between ambition
and lust
hoping to embark on a mission
unaware that it'll be defficient without trust
so go with the flow
surrender all that you know
bend with the status quo
or bust
wait no
break out of this vicious cycle
in order to leave
you must understand
whats at hand
disband
from your troops
come to realize that what your fighting for
is a lost cause
behind a closed door
you cry out for more
living for the sensation
its reality that you abhore
stand still
filter your thoughts
distill
stay focused
on this hocus pocus
dont let the walls break
or out the truth will pour
to mix with your recognition
distorting fiction
creating contradiction
friction
a cure to your addiction
between you and yourself
you eagerly welcome
input from anyone else
all that you've become
is shaped from someone
with the worst intentions
you against the world
you can taste the tension
but your taste buds have the day off
so does your comprehension
its paid no attention
fitting into the mold
surrendering to your surrounding's hold
obey
do what you're told
the price has been bartered
you've been bought
and sold
the return policy
your last breath
held captive for life
untill your encounter with death
tests and trials
evaporate any denial
that could hide beneath your pleasent smile
simmering below is a truth so vile
baracaded and shut deep down in your conscience
lies the fact
that your unconsious
its on the tip of your tounge
but never mentioned
i guess that makes you
society's invention

This depression gives the impression

that the expression of a burnout is…

me

living and loving intently free

prison depends on jailhouse babies and legal **** ; weee!

we must organize expression of a quantum size, to re-realize more food and supplies

its such a surprise that id be thinkin this, engineering instruments with a pnuematic hiss

geared towards the questioned technocolypse….

“…well here on the graph we read an elipse, a parabola, and a demonic kiss…”

But whats this?

im’ channeling some quick quips ; alluring as a brothel’s contained hips with the open smile of sideways lips….

my daring is preparing all the world for destructive repairing

cause the frogs and the rains are staring

at this desolate earth

a burnt out hearth

with smouldering ashes, speaking of a crying birth

while the midwife is sick and shy with little self worth and curse; because a as a witch she doth rehearse

while the moonlights smiling and the phones texting and dialing

“Whats wrong?”==”Are you ok?”

“…but come on?”==”Is there any other way?…”

[please oh please let me stay in this old and bloodied fray; where the battles had axes and handles

where there were stories of travels, to faraway places leading to exotic geographic stasis]

caught in the moment of thought, a moment of fright…

until we stop and put a light to these wierd words

we wont know what the birds have heard….

Click crshhh….*

BURN little match like the wood you are!

combustion of suggestion set ablaze from afar

a flame throwers burned hands

while the pained sower , frustrated, changes plans

because in the end one one really understands

the torment of a floment spent eternally alone in atonement.

(=purgatory)

Where all you want to do is get on the phone, external validation felt at the tone,

but it really ain’t ****

because you are crying while its dialing and your out of minutes…

so check this bits of imaginary meaning and ****

ponder and quit

when you seek to make amends and introduce fake men to our imaginary friends

i keep on thinking…keep on blinking

wishing for emotion to extend

SO I think the words

AND I write whats heard

but haven’t YOU heard

from the little ittie birdie whos been certainly flying, singing and free

that im not mentaly sturdy, quirky, and ******…

LOGICALLY

iknow

sophistry

ishow

emotionally

Hol…………­……………loW

I guess it just goes to show that when you at home your never reallly  alone, because to you, the voices do drone
about

how much sandpaintings and ***** can be blown,….

away with a CLICK…BoooM

beaten with a stick….AH

shoed a away with a kick….

START my heart! I know better than this!

so I better think quick

before i stay mentally sick

as an alien who has forgotten it’s world

got on a roller coaster; spinned and whirled

till im spun and twirl’d

on this game we call life, with simple **** and complex hype,

hives of concepts meanings and thoughts….to derive daily quit failing

i miss haley :( , even phailee….

so I ask little voice in my head , since everyone has left will you stay instead?

come a little closer and hop into bed

so we can share the warmth of one last self-referencing infinity loop….

…..BEFORE i wake up and forget whats ashore

because im out at dream sea with clouds free and galore

but as soon as i stop thinking i know ill return to the me that i abhore

with pain and saddness deranged

omit school so classless and strange

as a failed out actress sick with mange.

but i know these negatvie moments are just flashes , to make me appreciate self motivated happiness…

so here you go

its me on the page, skelly the sage….

i just hope to god that I could set the stage 4 nirvana or heaven, we reach zion in seven

6

5

4

3

2

1

I love you.

Its over

i won myself over

like a sad kids redrover

thanks for letting  m3 share these freestyle thoughts i kant bear

im  alone no more, i seem to have exhausted my sadness store

and after venting i realize…. its a lot ******* bettor.

“Isn’t it eeeire howletting yourself feel sad

can make you feel soo much better?”

Ouroboros is its own meal

The same is true with

Those from own country that steal!



To humstrung the incumbent

Most party members are not hesitant.



Ouroboros,they adore their party,

Which they obliviously or

Otherwise sully with

A rent-seeking identity.

They adore the incumbent

Yet they spell nation's

Slow but sure death

Siphoning budget earmarked

For  infrastructure,education,

Agriculture and health.



They adore their party

That took power

But with a deadface

That lets them, with

Nation's wealth, take a shower.



They adore their party,

However with their bureaucratic logjams,

Create on nation's developmental

****** encumberance.

Yet they entertain

A wild dream

Their party could

Let the country

Forward advance.



They support their party

As a Scare (self-defeating) tactic

Sees better

For social justice

Requesting demonstrators

To scatter

Shooting one or two

With a ******.

'cause what they enunciate

"We adore"

Citizens abhore

Marking it stifling and "a bore".



Worse still

Barefaced they entertain

No shame or fear

Using  'public media'

"I **** thee

Because I love thee!"

To din in people's ear.//

Whatcha know
About chastity
I don’t need a belt to
Be loyal
Feel royal
love  ain’t gotta be
A battle royale

Everyone’s an attention *****
Publicity is adored
I abhore your BS
Get away from
My doorstep
My patience
Has a threshold
That you’ve crossed

I ain’t *******
For a ******* dime
If you wanted a mime
Here’s a rhyme instead
I won’t wish you dead
I’m not that petty
I live practicing abstinence and chastity
For many reasons
Chief among them the fact that’s it’s more  of a challenge when compared to sleeping with someone. Secondly, the challenge of living such a lifestyle pays off, mostly because it’s harder to get yourself broken  when you don’t open yourself up to false and momentary since of connection.

chat bots:
zaby: niet: zeby... (frogs... not teeth)

this heat-wave is making everyone, fffff-ucking cuckoo! i must have lost it about 5 times today... sweating like a pig about to be slaughtered, rambling mad... drank more than i could ever possibly eat... for dinner? the thinner me... two Becks, a pork steak cooked ideally: so the juices were still running... and a few precious olives... with pickled garlic and pickled chillies and plenty of oregano and olive oil... that's it! to hell with this world... to hell with climate-change sceptics... i hate them as much as i hate atheists... i was actually going to post this on the 18th of June... but i thought... i'll wait... it was already been several days of this heat... i'll wait... something is bound to happen: something convincing... the fire in Wennington broke the camel's back... i ffff-ucking sometimes cycle through there... what the ffff-ucking hell happened? scorched earth! the earth's alight! and what am i doing? like **** i'm going on some fancy holiday... like hell i'm going to own a car... i just own a bicycle... i planted 8+ trees in my garden... i tend to talk... i hate climate-change sceptics and deniers like Holocaust deniers and atheists... and all the rest of the secular nunnery *******... the "sensible folk"... they: ****... ME... OFF... like i: don't have enough oath-words to use... i swear like a cobbler when it comes to these matters... today we snapped at each other over the littlest of things: you're keeping the fridge door open for too long... you haven't covered the coleslaw... seconds apparently turned into hours... do i, look... like a ******* camel jockey to you? take this ******* heat and go back to Sahara... that desert that was once a mighty mountain range... all deserts were mountain ranges once... aren't we living in times beside Copernicus... aren't we stuck with Darwinistic pre-history ontology? then all deserts used to be mountain-ranges... now crank up the heat... the sort of heat that makes people mad and animals bewilder themselves... i mention this as much generously later on...

i seriously think the internet can be a lovely place...
sure... there are some pitfalls...
for one: i avoided online dating sites like
the plague... i don't know how i managed to get
fooled by social media...
then again: those were early days...
back in 2005... facebook had a policy of: only university
students... being the first person in my family
to go to university i gobbled some things naively...
mind you: i was already using last.fm
to forage for new music... that's how i found about
Porcupine Tree... Spirit... Gong... to name but the few...
i must have come across Wolfmother too...
i was over the moon that they played in Edinburgh
rather than playing Glasgow...
mind you: i didn't mind that Tool played in Glasgow...
i was willing: more than willing to make that trip
from Edinburgh... that's where i met her...
met: and left her...
    oh man... we were getting crushed... or rather:
she was getting crushed in the pit of happy maggots...
water was being distributed in plastic glasses
so that people wouldn't faint...
   (of course i'm going to portray myself as
someone good... although i tend to think i'm a nasty
piece of work... better to think yourself rotten
than as good... it works to anyone's advantage...
since? there's always room for improvement)
    the glasses were passing us left and right...
someone finally managed to not drink a water from
the cup and it passed into my hand...
what did i do? did i drink it? nope...
            i gave the cup to her... she gulped it down...
the second time i managed to catch a cup...
i drank half of it myself... offered it to her:
she refused... on the basis that the first cup satiated her...
so i passed the cup further down in the crowd...
third cup... i gave it to her... she drank half...
the remaining half i passed down the crowd...
by then i was almost bear-hugging her to give her
space to breath... so much so that she managed to turn
around... we chatted for about two minutes:
the old internet: a.s.a.l... sort of shtick...
                              and by the depth of the music coming
from Tool... we started snogging...
                    did i mind that she said she was German?
hmm!? i'm currently listening to: die weisse dame
                                                                      (d'ah m'eh)...
yes... the Tetragrammaton appears in certain
European languages...  e.g. ANTHONY...
                     you don't say: ANFONY
                               you say: ANTONY...
who's foney / phoney?! is that like someone: who can
be the X-man Magneto but with telephones?!

i probably have regrets... once the crowd was dispersing
after the concert was over...
i saw her standing in some obvious location...
we got separated...
            mind you... did she come alone?
girls? going to concerts on their own? not then not now...
highly unlikely...
but who was she with? a girlfriend or a boyfriend?
regrets... i walked passed her...
   i was about to ask her if she wanted to go back
to Edinburgh with me for some ***... well: not exactly
*** as a one word question... more...
on the lines of relationship building...
    nerves? she ignored me? i was snogging her
just a few minutes and half-hours prior...
            men go to concerts on their own...
do women? rare...
                      women travelling on their own? also rare...
i used to take these weekend trips
to some of the capitals of Europe: alone...
   because... i've been on trips with "friends"...
****** trips... disorganised trips... pointless trips...
i said: **** it... i'm going solo...
                 should i have approached her?
n'ah... she just topped the feelings of seeing Tool live...
a favourite band of mine since the age of 14...
or 15...

what was i "saying"? oh... right... the internet used to be fun,
it still is...
              sure... you get some *******... most of them
are neurotic women... thought-police Katherine(s)...
oh Carol... or oh Caren... or Kerrie... whatever...
             women who have no idea that either William Burroughs
or Ovid or for that matter Marquis de Sade ever existed...
what? i know what cancel-culture is...
i've been banned on... several sites... just outright
deleted... no response...
i was suspended on one website for about 9 months...
what happened, after? the Streisand effect...
my absence imploded...
prior? one of my poems had... maybe... maybe 2K views...

now? i'm packing a crowd of about 50K...
ergo? it's a good thing...
              but it's unlike the internet of NAPSTER
and HOTMAIL... and MSN? what were those chat-rooms
where people would talk anonymously...
with girls in America... i remember those...
that's how we first plundered our presence
in this sphere... obviously publishers wouldn't
listen to us... and we had better things to do anyway...
it was either homework... playing the Age of Empires II
or chatting to people before bots and proper a.i.
was introduced...
way way before internet shopping...
i still remember the classic look of a high street:
there used to be a record shop on each of them...

now? you want a record shop?
Romford... that's the only one i know that still exists...
it's like: Mecca...
seriously... come to Romford... buy some spinning
liquorice...
             i don't even know whether i've grown into
England or whether England has grown into me...
i'm guessing both... of course the myth of my childhood
in Poland is locked in the vaults of memory
of my mind... how we used to play together as children...
hide & seek... marbles... tic-tac-toe...
   skipping ropes... oh sure: boys and girls used to play
together... we didn't get as far as cards...
Blackjack... i'm afraid that if i started playing
Blackjack with the boys i would have not moved an inch...
from where i was born...

but look at me now...
    London leech... in and outs of Bow and further afield
as far as Epping... on a bicycle...
this is home... it breaks my heart in a way
but also mends it...
  
hmm... i recently came across an advert for online
therapy... a woman is sitting in a cubicle in a toilet
and is talking about how her mind will not switch off...
questions: self-rhetorical answers... more questions...
then the lights are turned on...
and in a cubicle next to her another woman
tries to "squeeze" out in a silence...
the camera returns to the woman who "thinks"
she's talking to someone... clearly: she isn't...
              i tried therapy... i tried psychologists:
**** me... at least the most they can do is prescribe you
talk and camomile tea...
i talked to psychiatrists...
    hmm... with the ineffectuality of asylums...
being prescribed pills... usually associated with asylums?
ha ha... ah ha ha...
i put on... let's settle on 30kg...
     i was a porky pie...
                   oh! but it was the cure! i was being cured!
i was "depressed" one year... "schizophrenic" another...
"psychotic" throughout... but when i got a brain MIR scan
back in Poland and talked to a ****** neurosurgeon...
i asked: so am i mad?
he replied: if anyone says you're mad... they're mad themselves...

i love England... no... English people are not racists...
they're just sadistic sometimes...
they have a sadistic sense of humour...
and a sadistic diagnostic-rumour: murmur...
after speaking to this ****** neurosurgeon...
i had to go back... back to England...
oh sure... i still talked with the psychiatrists
that were "treating" me...
i still took the pills...
      until one day: i snapped...
        my mother was having spinal surgery...
i just finished reading Kierkegaard's either / or...
no... that was stalemate: read...
i just finished reading vol. 1 of Kant's critique of pure reason...
and... i couldn't find vol. 2...
i was so ******* *******...

and i told her: when i get out of here!
     did she think: when i escape my body?
to me... psychosis is osmosis... i'm going back to either
air... fire... water or the earth...
perhaps a coupling...

point being: the advert? me... i have a post-Soviet
distrust for psychology, psychiatry, atheism...
why demand people have no soul but make logistic
investments into there being a soul?
or the opposite... whatever the opposite is...
                  i wouldn't talk to anyone but a random
stranger...
                     *******... mother-****-gobbling-*******...
misjudgements?! hmm-um?!
    yeah: bravo-me for keeping my anger under control
by drinking... and taking: long walks...
i once became so mad i walked from Romford to...
Harlow... in the middle of the night...
down roads without any pedestrian access...
      sat in a 24h Tesco waiting to buy a bottle of Jack...
talking to this naive teenage girl...
bought the bourbon... walked into a forest
and started eating Lilac coloured mushrooms...
i literally stopped caring...
the "adventure" finished with me catching a taxi home
and sleeping for about 12 hours...

alcohol as a sedative? yeah... it is... it's a sedative
keeping me intact: from boiling over into absolute rage...
i need it to sweat it out...
every time i drink i'm sedated:
i'm like the antithesis of what most drunks are...
they just explode carelessly...
at rock concerts or football matches... reckless idiots:
IF YOU ONLY KNEW THE TRUE POWER
OF ALCOHOL... what focus it can give...
how else did the pilots of Spitfires defeat
the Amphetamine riddled pilots of the Messerschmitts...
how else? how else where they defeated?
alcohol is a war potent contained in the most
affectionate man...
  
mind you: i know what an alcoholic looks like...
my grandfather was an alcoholic...
he was also a stamp-collector... i still have his Soviet
stamps... i wonder... if i really wanted money...
how much could they fetch in the west...
but... since i'm not after money... because i'm of the motto:
ARBEIT MACHT FREI... and i like the idea of
things... formerly owned by others are like
keeping their presence nearest to me...
translated as travelling stars in the night sky...
and i've seen: plenty... of those...
there are constellations... but there are also these...
roaming stars... i can't explain it...

be kind to animals, be kind to these little critters...
this will allow you to distinguish:
or least favour the judgement concerning:
whether you should be kind to all men:
or whether not to discriminate by a higher earned
justice learned from the kindness showered
on animals...

spieglein spieglein!

ooh... i needed that break from that autobiographic
outburst... and as the maxim states:
by the sweat of your brows you will earn a living...
funny that... writing is hardly any hard-lifting...
but i'm drinking and sweating like a mad-pig
from my armpits...

the internet... hmm...
one sample of tracing my footsteps back...
Tantalus < Human Sacrifice < Annual Customs
of Dahomey < the Kingdom of Dahomey...
this is me... going backward...
i just overheard someone mention...
the Kingdom of Dahomey...
   and king Ghezo...

                             now... physiology...
all these massive basketball players... currently living
in America... hold on hold... on...
Europeans did what?
go around Africa and catch these specimen?
really? what good is a slave if maimed by a bullet wound?!
hmm...  what i was thinking all along...
Africans ******* Africans over
just like Europeans ******* Europeans over...
same shift... different story...
nothing new...
              so there were these people in Western Africa
that used to hunt for slaves...
and sell them off to traders... and... let's face it...
every trade-person is an impartial person...
money is not the coinage of spirit: thought...
ideas are...
                   we exchange ideas like we exchange
money: but in disparaging circumstances...
point being... i arrived at finding about the myth of
Tantalus...

        that's the beauty of the internet...
you might be looking for something: then again not looking
for anything...
coupled with reading a book...
Tantalus...
             Ovid's Amores: book 2 poem 2...
hey presto! Tantalus appears!
loose talk left Tantalus thirsty for ever
though up to his neck in water, clutching at fruit
always out of his reach

             well then... the beauty of the internet...
you get to build tunnels... cognitive tunnels: they are...
but... but there's also the automated filtering process...
i don't celebrate my work... i don't allow it to reach
advertisement status... i don't censor...
i filter... zeit ist die nur essenz...
              während weltraum: etwas das
                             unterhalt selbst...
wir ar entwender sklaven zu zeit
     oder seine eskapisten...

time is the only essence...
while space: something that upkeeps itself...
we are either slaves to time
or its escapists!

then again: i did start thinking about pre-historic
escapism as most associated with
English Darwinists...
those adamant creatures who find it absolutely
necessary to find the ontology: of a man without history:
a man without memory...
strange creatures... like most English thinking is...
don't get me wrong... it's very practical thinking...
ergonomic... egalitarian... soft-spoken words
to replace the pan-Slavic experiment of Communism...

that's ******* dangerous...
and what's the alternative? is there an alternative?
the English intellect invented
ergonomics and egalitarianism to counter
Communism...
               but it also invested itself in pre-history /
post-history... the ontology of:
prior to any recorded history... there was this
ontolology of APES...
i don't even think Copernicus could have
envisioned such widespread corruption of a simple
idea: nature abhors vacuums...
vacuums are filled by adaptation...

  i blame the mutation of Darwinism on the current
zeitgeist-narrative...
   no history? no history?!
          no ******* wonder i'm fleeing into foreign
languages... i've tested my thoughts on German...
i'm testing my thoughts on Russian...
i have this special case i need to test / write out...
i'm not staying: i'm fleeing...
but i'll be fleeing in a way that a violin
player is fleeing the sinking Titanic...

i need more drink to write this bit...
after all... i'm "changing glasses"...
i'm about to roam around the cheapest version
of Greek...
                       Darwinistic anti-historical pre-historical
ontology... i remember winters of such an abundence
of snow that you will never know...
i ******* hate climate-change-sceptics...
it's too hot!
        it's, too, *******, hot!
                             scepticism is not some *******
NEU-KOOL...
              BONKERS... no! neit! nein! nie!
i don't need lobster-people parading with
suntans... telling me: yeah: br'uh... all good...
like **** it is...
i hate these climate sceptics...
like i hate these Hitchen's era atheist...
sensible people my ****... my ****...

my feet are sticky... my brain is fried...
                     sure sure... let's just "rephrase" our next
no-new position comes the next year's flooding...

what the **** happened to:
CAUSE & EFFECT?!
                     physics isn't working?!
rules of physics somehow awry?"
                    hammer not good for nails?!
THIS IS WHY I DRINK...
i drink to contain my rage...
           but i also drink to fuse with it...
a writing ambition that...
will not be recognised... because:
zeitgeistnarrativ...
people need to hear what they are used to /
what they want...

****'s sake... with these climate change scpetics there's
no physics principle of: X causes Y...
ergo Y causes YX... ergo YX cause XY...
ergo... there's a ******* Z!
better explained?
   x causes y.. no! y doesn't cause x!
it's not a closed-case sceanario... you ****** g dim-wit!

dimmy dumb dimmy dumb wit!
ugh meister fantastisch spinster
   herr spinster: spaghettilockenwickler:
mampfenhausherr!

      hell is a fury that man obeys!
hell is a fury that a man obeys:
because... he inacts its tides...
selfish women discard hell's compensation
for personal gains...
best to spread the fury...
it has been... a long wait...
but worthwhile...
                            wahnhaft?!
                                           wer ist nicht?!

ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten: kto został "zaspany":
  i ten kto ten kto nigdy się nidgy nie
obudził...
           i ten... komu zerk na "co to?":
dodało: nad-skupieninie:
ojra... ojra: coś nie tak!
o kurwa... hyba coś nie tak!

me? i'm looking at these two Russian
letters...
and then looking at these Latin transformations...

Спокойная ночь: spokojnaja no-
             hmm... exactly!
exactly? peaceful night!
but that's not my "beef"...
    J is replaced with Y...
                          since there's no Jeep in *****...
or therefore a DZ... dz = j....

                                     exactly: German folk songs
for drinking... gearing up to writing
while listening to some Russian agnst...
and i've just found... the second artist
in the Russian tongue that appeals to me...
first things first... Faun's Lorelei to get drunk and proper
"stammered" in order to better write...
that's that... but then... something from Russia:

to think...
                            i was lucky enough to... and not so lucky
to have had a Russian girlfriend...
lucky to have visited St. Petersburg and Moscow
but sort of unlucky to see in her cousin's face
that she was cheating on me...
i liked drinking with him: beer and dried fish...
talking about music and history...
i knew what his face was telling me...
he was sad that he knew she was having a French-fling
of two-boys one girl...
i hope i came across to suggest to him:
you know... i have been with prostitutes...
she over-estimates her worth, you do know: that i know that,
right?
i'm only here for St. Petersburg and for Moscow
and for the *****... the beer and the dried fish
that's such a better accomplishment to match
up with beer than peanuts...
you do know that i know she's ******* around?
but let me tell you: just one night...
i'll **** her brains out... i'll turn into a miner and
build a tunnel into her ego so that she remembers
me proper... oh don't worry... this narrative will only
come to be some years later...
i'll need to reflect for years before i realise
what my unconscious was instinctively planning:

good luck trying to be a tourist in Russia these
days... ha ha...
i was already out of the door come the moment
she wanted to turn my long hair into dreadlocks
and wanted to tattoo me...
i knew it was a short escapade: a gentle run
rather than a marathon...
the best part was: when she introduced me to her
grandmother: telling me it was her mother...
and we went to dinner: she introduced her mother
as her sister... and her father as her "uncle"...
she was trying to hide so bad that i was a ******...
a Russian girl?! dating a ****** boy?!
mein gott!                       it's only years later that
i'm drinking this fine wine of memory
in the form of ms. amber (whiskey)...

                   oh for more of these love complications
on grounds of ethnicity: race-baiting?
too ******* obvious: the Germanic peoples can play
that duty to the "universe"...
i like the subtle queues...

i can just imagine if this affair went west...
if i dated a proper: milchfräulein!
i'd be like: wild-eyed: did your grandpa secetectly
stash a SS-uniform in secret? can i see it?
can i wear it? wait... wait... i need to see the Turk
first... my barber... i can't put it on without
being properly trimmed...
does he? does he?
                                           ah ha ha...

i think schwarz suits me...
although i much prefer
grün und braun shades of clothes...
                           nothing jeans related... suits me...

it became one of those relationships that's best
not have had... best remembered like
the heat-wave of 2022...
i... ******* cycled through the village of Wellington...
i know the area... it's local... well...
as a cyclist it's local... thereabouts to Rainham...
there's this land-fill site near by...
there's the Cold-Harbour...
  when the Thames spreads her "legs" / tide...
i know the area... ******* grass fires?
  you're kidding me...
   i abhor climate sceptics like i abhor atheists...

do i look like a: ffff-ucking camel jockey?!
some influencer girl staging the pride of her buttocks
before some hotel in Dubai?
i hate people who adhere to the heat...
i know that when the mob comes after them
i'll be peddling...
              i'll be licking my wounds...
i'll be writing: sure... not having sweat from my brows:
but from my underarm pits...
at this point i abhore the arrogant-denial
of the sceptics...
                             because this is the workings of bad-faith...
and bad-faith begins with advocating
the adamancy of denial...
                  these ffff-ucking idiots need
another year... perhaps two...
before they change their minds about saying
things like: oh... media frenzy!
   this feels like just another summer!

really?
  really?!
              what happened to me today?
i woke up... in a 180° position to the one i fell asleep in...
i rotated... 180°... how? how does a body rotate
180° while asleep... lying next to a table...
sure... i took down a chair...
but... this is the UNCONSCIOUS speaking:
this is the COLLECCTIVE UNCONSCIOUS speaking
to individuals in their UNCONSCIOUS....
i ffff-ucking rotated 180° in my sleep!

that's not a ******* problem?!
fair enough... let idiots breed...
I DON'T CARE...
I'M NOT ALLOWED TO CARE...
I DON'T CARE...
DAARWINISM EXPOSED A MAN BADLY
DAMAGED BY ALLOWANCES OF AN ONTOLOGY
OF A PRE-HISTORY: AN ANTI-THESIS OF CONTINUITY
OF PRE-HISTORY: BY VARIATION OF SOME "MAGIC!"
SOME MAGIC MONKEY JUGGLING...

no! nein! neit! nie!

       come to "think" of it...
    Communism... the whole Pan-Slavic movement...
i'd like to "think" a little about the letters...
about... the crab-bucket... mentality of "losers"
of capitalism...
these... adherent wastes of time for people
that... want to work...
                  these people that should be readied
for an arbeit mach freit... scrutiny...
the excuses some people give them...
i've never been allowed excuses...
i was either good at my work or **** at it...
but some of these people have been given
too many excuses: based on their race:
get rid of them...
                 how does the verse work?
employ him because X...
well then... get rid of him based on Y...
lazy ******* best starve...
                        
    oh this cruel world... crueler Siberia...
i'm supposed to do the work of lazy Chimera's
of "man"?
                  
Спокойная ночь... bothers me...
esp. when reiterating in Latin...
      й = J = Y...
                  hmm... чь: ć
                               what's чъ?!
      but that's already arrived at!
                                  чъ = č ...

night?                      нoц! noc! night!

                    what's the ******* deal with
the Cyrillic trinity of ь ъ & ы?

                                         "soft": acute?
"hard": caron?
                         but a "soft" is already incorporated
within the noun concerning NIGHT...
at the same time it's not necessary...
that's why for a ******...
Russian is under-formed...

   нoц... contra ночь...
           because? the latter implies:
  when heard: never to be unheard:
   noć...
                      no... not noć...
not ******* nocz / noč...
                      нoц: noc! nacht!

***: *******: BAJA... bajka!
                     you confusing idiots... Chinese separatists
of Beijing...
ъ, ы, ь, ю, я, y living in make-shift *****-lands...

gorąc...
                  gorąц...
                                    na mej głowie...
to tło... szumu... i idiotyzmu...
      this: this entire world is coming to the smallest
portion of the world for: "debriefing":
about being the the antagonist...

  **** it... i'm siding with the Russians...
i don't care...
                      i don't care because i don't care...
i'm siding with the Russians...
at least they have some existential sanity
left in them...
                it's very much unlike siding with
**** Germany most associated with
the Croats...
this is... a civiliation-state scenario...
this is Darwinism in its advent of foreplay...
i'm curating foreplay...
people are so blind... as individuals...

do i look like wanting to **** black women?
ergo... all the poly-racial ****... is... what?
something i might want to keep... or... burn?
i could never appreciate the idiocy of some people...
but? i'm currently having to adapt....
because... people have beccome better than their own
predictions.

My sweetheart let me implore
Donot be unkind do not ignore
In your love from pore to pore
I am in search of you door to door
I am thirsty of love let me adore
Don't be rude and don't deplore
Neither condemn nor abhore
Help me my love to just restore

From the day I saw till this day
I am in search of truth you may
Be in me or let me in you to stay
Enthralled by fragrance I do pray
On this shore olife on this bay
I love you ,I love you I have to say

Colonel Muhammad khalid Khan
Copyright 2020 Love Remains