’Twas in the nineteen-twenties, when young people were bright and gay,
A flapper left Southampton, on a cruiser bound for Bombay.
Her fiancé was a subaltern, in India, in the cavalry,
And she had taken passage there, intending, him to marry.

She shared a cabin with a girl, ’cause money was quite tight,
And though they had met as strangers, they were getting on all right.
The flapper had met some nice people, and things were going fine,
Until they reached the equator, and had to ‘cross the line’.

People who before, had never the equator crossed,
Paraded around in fancy dress, and some into the pool were tossed.
The crew were dressed as pirates, and one as King Neptune,
And some of the passengers ‘walked the plank’, it was all done in fun.

During the proceedings, cocktails and champagne were drunk,
And the pirates, lots of passengers, into the pool did dunk.
The flapper’s chosen costume was that of a mermaid,
And with her legs placed in the tail, she hopped in the parade.

Because of her restricting costume, she hadn’t been tossed in the pool,
Now eventime was coming on, the air was turning cool.
She thought she’d look at the wake of the ship, so she hopped to the after-rail,
And stood there drinking a Planter’s Punch, whilst balancing on her tail.

Standing there, under the stars, she gazed down at the sea,
And saw something jump out of the water and wondered what it could be.
Then, leaning over further, to try to make it out,
She lost her balance and fell overboard, no time to even shout.

She crashed to the water on her front, and couldn’t clearly think.
She was winded and rather drunk, because of all the drink.
She struggled hard to keep afloat, her arms were all a-flail,
And for a time she was helped by air trapped in the tail.

Back on board the ship, her cabin-mate was drunk,
And didn’t think that she’d be able to get back to her bunk.
She went to a saloon, and stretched out on a sofa,
Then closed her eyes and went to sleep, the drunken little loafer.

In the morning she awoke and staggered to her berth,
With a frightful headache, no longer full of mirth.
She took some Alka Seltzer, in a glass of water,
Then slept again, not missing the flapper, although she should have ought to.

In the sea the flapper was floundering and thought that drowned she’d be.
The ship showed no sign of turning back, and went on its way steadily.
Her tail was slowly losing air and filling up with sea,
Her last thoughts, as she started to sink, were, “Why is this happening to me?”

Her past life flashed before her eyes, it didn’t take too long.
She’d really led a quiet life, and had done nothing wrong.
“That, I’ll rectify,” she thought, “if ever I get back.”
Then the air bubbled out of her lungs, and everything went black.

“Am I in heaven?” were her first thoughts, assuming she was dead.
When she heard a quiet voice, which unto her, it said
“I thought you were a mermaid, now I think you’re a mortal,
If I’d known, I never would have brought you through my portal.”

The flapper struggled to sit up straight, ’cause her legs were still in the tail.
She opened her eyes, tried to see in the gloom, and then she started to wail.
“Please tell me just where I am, whatever is this place?”
Then she tried hard not to scream, when in front of her eyes loomed a face.

In the dark it seemed to glow with a phosphorescent light,
And this was the reason it had given her such an awful fright.
Then, as she scrutinised it, she thought it did look kind,
So asked, “Why did you think me a mermaid? Are you out of your mind?”

The face moved back and regarded her, and then to her it said,
“Aren’t you at all curious to find you are not dead?
Luckily for you I was on the surface, looking at your ship,
When I saw you standing staring down, and then I saw you slip.”

“I swam back under the water, so I would not be seen,
And heard you splashing in the water, and wondered what it did mean.
Then, looking at you from beneath, as you your arms did flail,
I saw to my surprise, that instead of legs, you’d a tail!”

“I could not work out why a mermaid was on that boat,
Nor why you seemed to not be able to swim or even float.
Then you started sinking and your gills I couldn’t see,
And you obviously weren’t breathing, so you needed help from me.”

“Then I thought of the quickest way that your life I could save.
I towed you to the sea-bed, and brought you to my cave.
There is lots of air in here and I saw to my relief,
When I laid you on my bed, you started then to breathe.”

The flapper was quite shocked at this and couldn’t believe her ears.
She thought she was trapped with a lunatic and her mind was filled with fears.
So sitting up, she undid the belt that held her tail on tight,
Then wiggled a bit and pulled it off so her legs were now in sight.

“There are no such things as mermaids!” the flapper then did shout.
“Why are you keeping me captive? Oh won’t you let me out?”
“You really are then human,” the mermaid, startled, said,
“And I brought you here inside my home! I really feel afraid.”

“I don’t believe in mermaids,” the flapper again did wail.
“So far I’ve only seen your face, I haven’t seen a tail.”
The mermaid said, with trembling voice, “If that is what you wish.”
She then lay back upon the bed, and gave her tail a swish.

“No, no, it’s just your fancy dress, like mine for the parade,”
The flapper said, and like the mermaid, she was sore afraid.
They both sat up and looked at each other,  tears running down their faces,
And each, feeling sorry for the other, each, the other embraces.

As they hugged together, they started to calm down,
And the flapper said to the mermaid, “I think that you have shown
Great compassion in saving me and bringing me safely here.”
And though overcome by emotion, she managed to sound sincere.

The mermaid said, “You’re trembling, may I be so bold
As to ask if you’re still frightened?” The flapper said, “I’m cold.
I’m shivering to warm myself, my clothes are chilly and wet.”
The mermaid told her, “I know what, some dry clothes I will get.”

Sliding down from off the bed, into a pool she slipped,
And swam to the far side of the cave, and there a case she gripped.
Rolling over onto her back, she balanced it on her chest,
Then swam back to the flapper, who hoped it hadn’t squashed her breast.

The flapper helped to lift the heavy case onto the bed.
“I hope you haven’t hurt yourself bringing it here,” she said.
“Oh no,” replied the mermaid, “I’m stronger than I look,”
Then she opened it, and from the inside, several garments took.

The flapper then looked thoughtful and said, with a little frown,
“I hope this case hasn’t come from someone who did drown.”
“Oh no!” said the mermaid, as she that thought abhored,
“I often find stuff from ships that has fallen overboard.”

The flapper quickly then took off all her sodden clothes,
And picked up a lace hankie, and on it blew her nose.
She dried herself upon a towel, and sorting out clothes to wear,
Picked out some silken knickers and a strapless brassiere.

Then the flapper noticed that the mermaid was quite bare.
She obviously wouldn’t wear knickers, so she held out the brassiere.
“What is that?” the mermaid asked, “Do you wear it on your head?”
“Turn around, lift up your arms and I’ll show you,” the flapper said.

The mermaid swivelled round and raised her arms up high,
While the flapper knelt behind her, putting her arms round her to try
To fit her with the brassiere, and though she did her best,
She managed, inadvertently, in each hand to clasp a breast.

The flapper and the mermaid both froze there in that place.
The flapper felt a crimson flush, blush across her face.
The mermaid slowly lowered her arms, each covered a flapper’s hand,
And she murmured, “What are you doing? I just don’t understand.”

The flapper’s arms were locked in place and the mermaid she leant back.
The flapper felt her ***** flattened as the mermaid squashed her rack.
The mermaid muttered, “Don’t get dressed, I’ve a better idea instead.
Why don’t we lie down together? I’ll warm you up in bed.”

The mermaid released the flapper’s hands and slowly turned around.
Then she saw the flapper’s eyes looking down upon the ground.
The flapper spoke. “I know you meant the offer kindly, though
While I’m really flattered, in India, I’ve a beau.”

“I was on my way to meet him at Bombay, to be married.
I’d still be on my way there, if the cruise had not miscarried.
You have been so kind to me and managed to save my life,
Now will you help me on my way so I can be a wife?”

The mermaid looked unhappy, however, she concurred,
Albeit quite reluctantly, and then spoke so she’d be heard,
“I will try to help you, though yet we must delay.
There will be many sharks outside at this time of day.”

“If I take you outside now, to try to get you back,
There’s a real chance that the sharks they will attack.
Why don’t you finish drying yourself and find clothes to get dressed,
Then lie back down upon the bed and try to get some rest?”

The flapper started dressing and put on the brassiere,
And helped the mermaid put one on, who felt awkward not being bare.
When the flapper stood up, and stepped into the knickers,
The mermaid couldn’t help but stare, her eyes made up-and-down flickers.

“Please show me how you use your legs,” the mermaid did implore,
“It’s strange to see you standing up,  not lying on the floor.”
The flapper bent and stretched her knees to show how they did work.
Then turned around and squatted down and got her *** to twerk.

Then as the flapper, legs apart, upon the bed did kneel,
The mermaid, stretching out her arm, between those legs did feel.
And then very slowly, rubbed her hand forth and back,
And murmured, “It must feel very strange, because a tail you lack.”

The flapper, with a quavering voice, said, “It’s quite normal for me.
Now, though, what about you? May I your tail closely see?”
And with that, the flapper stretched out flat upon the bed,
Then on the mermaid’s tail, gently rested her head.

She put her hand upon the tail and stroked it up and down,
And feeling it crissate, gave a little frown.
It felt smooth when caressed downwards and rough the other way,
And then the mermaid arched her back and suddenly did spray.

From somewhere at the tail’s front squirted forth a spout.
That the mermaid did enjoy it, the flapper was not in doubt.
The liquid jet subsided and the mermaid gave a moan,
And a quite delightful odour suffused throughout the room.

The fluid showered the flapper, who wasn’t sure what to do.
Though when she wiped her hair, it foamed up like shampoo.
She rubbed it to a lather, and washed her body too,
And felt totally refreshed, as though she had washed in dew.

She stood, removed her underwear, because she thought she ought to
Rinse off the mermaid’s glorious shower by washing in some water.
She walked to a fissure in the cave where the water ran down in rills,
And as she rinsed her face and neck, she felt a pair of gills.

In shock she stumbled backwards and fell upon the floor,
Where her legs fused into a tail, which wasn’t there before.
She looked at it in horror and then with fear she cried,
When instantly, the mermaid lay down by her side.

The mermaid clasped her in her arms and rolling across the floor,
Pulled the flapper to the edge of the pool and pushed her in, before
Sliding in to the water herself, and pulling the flapper under,
Where, to her surprise, the flapper could breathe, it really was a wonder.

The flapper hung suspended, floating there in shock,
Then gradually realising she was all right, started to take stock.
Thinking that now, perhaps, she could swim just like a fish,
She gathered up her strength, and gave her tail a swish.

Unwittingly, she flapped her tail with all the strength she’d got,
And happening to be facing the cave door, right through it she shot.
Then coming out in daylight, she stared in disbelief
At all the spectacular marine life round about the reef.

There was coral in profusion, as far as the eye could see,
Of many shapes and colours, like a garden beautifully
Laid out on the sea-bed, with fishes swimming round,
Each of them making it their home; the sea-life did really abound.

The mermaid caught up with the flapper and took her by the hand,
Then said to her, “I’m confused, I just don’t understand
How you became a mermaid, then I saw you couldn’t breathe,
So I pushed you underwater, to try to give you ease.”

“I realised that you’d grown gills and couldn’t breathe in air,
So I thought that being in water was best, because it’s where
We mermaids live, so that is the place you had better be.”
“Thank you, you’ve saved my life again,” said the flapper gratefully.

Then, although still puzzled, they swam on, hand-in-hand,
The mermaid helping the flapper, ’til she could understand
How to use her tail well, to control where she did swim,
And to make fine adjustments, by using the tail’s fin.

Eventually the flapper grew tired, so to the cave they both swam back,
The flapper taking the lead, because she’d got the knack
Of how to control her tail, and adjust direction and speed,
Then a thought suddenly struck her, in air, her lungs she would need.

They reached the cave and while in the pool, the flapper to the mermaid said,
“How am I going to breathe back in air? I can’t get it into my head.”
The mermaid replied, “I think you should try, we mermaids can manage ok.
Just try to do what comes naturally, that will be the best way.”

“In for a penny, in for a pound,” bravely declared the flapper.
She hauled herself out, then she choked, the mermaid, on her back did slap her.
The flapper coughed, and gave a gasp, then shouted in relief,
“I think I’m going to be all right, my lungs have started to breathe.”

They both lay there in silence, thinking of what had passed.
Then the flapper turned to the mermaid, and she said, “These last
Few hours I’ve spent with you have been just like a dream.
Now I’m tired, shall we go to bed? I think you know what I mean!”

They pulled themselves into the bed, and together they did huddle.
The mermaid put her arms round the flapper and together they did cuddle.
And this time, as the two of them laid together in rest,
It was now the mermaid who cupped the flapper’s breast.

The mermaid asked, “Remember when you stroked my tail and I gushed?”
The flapper felt embarrassed and again on her face she blushed.
The mermaid said, “It was really nice, wouldn’t you like to try?”
The flapper replied, “I’m afraid it’s too late, and here’s the reason why.”

“That would be an experience I’d really like to try.
However, it is too late now, ’cause as my tail got dry,
I felt it metamorphosise, have a feel, I beg.”
The mermaid reached down with her hand, and felt the flapper’s leg.

Nevertheless, she stroked it, and rubbed it up and down,
And accidentally touched some hair, which caused her then to frown.
“I think you’ve got a problem, you’d best hear it from me.
Stuck between your legs, I think there’s a sea anemone.”

The flapper remembered the last time that the mermaid there had felt.
She’d had on silken *******, so had seemed smooth and svelte.
Now, she’d got her legs back which were absolutely bare,
And of course, instead of feeling silk, the mermaid felt her hair.

“That’s not an anemone, in fact, it is my......frizz.
I am used to it being there, that’s just the way it is.
I try to keep it neatly trimmed, so there is not a lot,
Besides, I think it’s there to protect the entrance of my grot.”

“When you say you’ve got a grot, I assume you mean a cave.
Is it as big as this one, holding all the treasures you have?”
The flapper answered the mermaid, “Oh no, it’s very small,
And held safe within it is my most precious possession of all.”

“I have carefully guarded it so that it won’t get lost.
I expect my husband to have it soon, a few weeks at the most.
And so, my dearest mermaid, until I am a bride,
Nobody will ever know just what I keep inside.”

The mermaid gently smoothed the ‘frizz’, and said, “I understand.
Now, don’t you think it’s time we got you back to land?”
I would like to help you, and I think I know a way
Of quickly getting you safely all the way to Bombay.”

“Thank you,” responded the flapper, “however, if we may,
I’d like to go to another port, one before Bombay.
Then, if at all possible, I can rejoin my cruise ship there,
And may I take some of your clothes, so I’m not on

Ohh,on the moonlight fair
a ditty doth whispers
thou straws embellish
wooed with a plenty pomps

Not a wight to claim thou
Sleight to quench mine thirst
abhored to thine crown and core
whence a haggard smile jail

My gracious, none can love thee
disposed to flighty cadents
jealous lame merchants
that consumeth and benn

Thine heart heavy, hardn'd
mine virginity grabbed
Possess'd by lade vultures
Packthread for none hath mine love

Open it up
fill up your cup
like gulp gulp gulp
it's the drink of the lord
it's the **** you abhored
its my lifeblood
back from on tour
and it tastes like PBR
and sounds like broke guitars
it smells like ash and tar
and is sticky like cali trees
cold enough to freeze
thick like spoiled milk
poured down the kitchen sink
but feel free to take it
I just can't seem to shake it
all of these mistakes and ****
listen up kids
if you ever had a dream of making it big
you gotta follow that *****
so lace up your stiches
on the bottom of your feet
let your heart skip a beat
and chase it
because
not everybody lives
quite the way they wanna live
but as long as you give
everything that you've got
you won't stop
drop and roll
until your soul goes pop pop pop
it's out of control
so reach for the top shelf
not good for your health
but nowadays what is?
you've got nothing else
to hold on to
pierced heart like a harpoon
feel it in your chest
the rise of the slow doom
just throw on a vest
dance around your bedroom
You'll hit that success
your own little boom
boxed up and sold
to the young and old
to people outside the fold
but I guess
what I'm really saying is
don't get upset
when they say you're just a crazy kid
go ahead and take this life
and make it a vacation trip
because honesty
is the hot commodity
and you have to let them take it

How have you been lately?
The poo of the pooh'
Don't you just give me
an 'okay' or a 'Fine'
For I wonder..
Are we even ever das ?
Fine as the chiffon-cotton *****..
gliding through the blues.
Or like the waves somersaulting over the shores.
Or like these...
tinkling rythms..
Oh! The ether hasnot stopped pouring
for days and days now
and You might have abhored the moon so far..
but | DON'T |

Oh ! Ruler of the sad sad sea.
Calmest of them all.
Don’t be sorry.
Don’t you be sad.
you are nowhere near the blameworthy .
Oh ! Guiltless listener .
Sweet sinner.
You should nowhere be near this cyclone :
such abrupt but obvious..
This self-forge crater.

That is why
An enforced hiatus is must

Shifting random mind positions
Carving steps out of de' labyrinth.
Away and away
Must I
Oh! Dark matter
I must .

The distance fed the boredom grew
Our facades, I abhored them too
I crawled upon the floor for you
Not one hand out, I bore you two

Though humble and in pain I kept
Not even but a tear you wept
Though ever since the day you left
Not sounder have I slept...

...see in that heartbreak, there is truth
A heart did break, one heart not two
I brandish mine, untouched and new
For who could love a beast like you?

.before i am done with this escapade, i will try to stick travis' - walking down the hill on repeat for a while... to settle for the mantra... something that needs a repetition in the background, before the final collage... and before... what settles as dust from burnt old father oak and my body too... or perhaps... the inter-connectivity that's shared between ethnic minorities: the kashubians, the sorbians, the navajo, the dene suline, the inupiaq, zuni hopa and the dogrib... the Łacinka & Łatynka (belarusian and ukranian) respectively... Łacina: Latin... as it is known on the vicinity of the old capital of Cracow... simply from a shared letter... no more a hello than a plain disregard for twitter poetics... or instagram: captions... sometimes you just want a chicken drum-stick of words... and the bone and the cartilege and the heads filled with marrow... which is more... than some toothpick escapade... well... Winchester is so old for anyone to remember... and London is so nuanced that even Warsaw makes the count... but Cracow sits... humbled... when snow falls... there's the actual snow... and there's the mistaken snow of the ash from auschwitz.

once - when i was much younger - and my voice
was but a crude and feeble whimper -
nothing that could compare itself to a butterfly
in haiku - i would be found trying to forcibly imitate
anything immediately read -
what a naive misadventure upon every turn...
every poem became: as if an act borrowed from
Macbeth - quiet simply - a young man's jealousy...

i can only now gratify myself and the audience that...
i have matured beyond that hot-headedness... former...
now? i rather simply translate the work -
as i am sure that something will be lost -
however good the translation might be...
or the original text...
here's my first attempt...

zbigniew herbert - kaligula (1st attempt
and the last ettempt)

/
          while reading old chronicles, poems and biographies
Mr Cogito sometimes experiences feelings
of a physical presence of the people long ago dead

Caligula (is speaking / speaks):

from among all the citizens of Rome
i loved only one
Incitatus - a horse

when he walked into the senate
the unblemished toga of his fur
shone immaculately among that of
the cowardly murderers' sitched with purple

Incitatus was full of advantages
he never spoke
a stoic's nature
i think that at night in the stables he read
philosophers

i loved his so much that one day i decided
to crucify him
but his noble anatomy objected to this

he accepted the dignity of consul indifferently
he held authority the best
in that he didn't hold any authority

attempts to persuade him to have permanent
****** relations with my dear wife Caesonia failed
therefore a line of caesars - centaurs
was never created

which is why Rome fell

i decided to appoint him as a god
yet on the ninth day prior to the days of February
(chaerea) cornelius sabinus and other fools
obstructed the intentions of this godly work...

he accepted the news of my death peacefully

he was thrown out of the palace
and sentenced to exile

he endured this blow with dignity

he died without any hiers
slaughtered by a thick-skinned butcher from the vicinity
of Anzio

Taticus is silent
about the posthumous fate of his meat
                                                                ­               /

perhaps looking at the original -
would help... oh more surely...
but prior to the original...
i can see that certain peoples of asia...
who have a culinary superiority complex...
who hide behind a spice grenade...
have an aversion to cabbage...
and it's like that irish love potatoes
and the slavic people love cabbage joke...
don't mind me morphed into a pawn...
the persians abhored and still abhor spicy
food from bengali bush monkey regions
of the raj...
persians have a palette for sour foods...
can you imagine eating a hot-dog...
without choked onions, chillies...
sauerkraut and some sweet gherkins...
mustard and ketchup?
i can't... then again: a cow is more than just
milk... mother goat...
but there comes a time when you can...
appreciate the culinary superiority of the blue indians...
then a minute later call it: a kitchen of black cardamom
stink!
believe me... black cardamom stinks...

but a problem with sauerkraut is a problem
with persian tastes...
sour... sooner rather than later i'll see...
sauerkraut added as the german delight...
in an ottoman kebab wrap...
the sourness could cut through the fatty mustang
of the lamb... somehow...
because the pickled chillies are not enough...
and the raw spanish onions do very little...
the blue indians throw "beef" around
an appreciation of sauerkraut... i just give them
the one-liner: black cardamom and...
the ultimate dye... turmeric...
it will stain, anything... plastic, metal,
ceramics: oddly enough no... and glass...
spice barons, eh?  

the original... but it's not exactly the original...
since... i do borrow from"elsewhere":
sound distinction that exfoliate in the meaning...

after all... i did graffiti the original with
some cyrilic...
sz = š = ш = (sh)ape ≠ ś = sie- prefix: if śιe
cz = č = ч = (ch)urn ≠ ć = cie- prefix: if ćιe
ż (= rz) = ž = ж ≠ ź
(also noted in french: via je suis...
   oddly enough... it sounds like жe swée...
but looks like: je suis ce et cette)...
ń ≈ ñ
ch = x
nonetheless...
or more importantly...
c = ц ≠ c = s = ç...
an no... there's no translation
of a cedilla A(ą) nor a cedilla E(ę)...
a bit easier when it comes to...
ł = w
            but... w = v...
so ł(h)en... the surd hatch...
eyes closed: mouth agape!
no "v" given how the greek upsilon (υ)
was sharpened into (ν):
i always thought: cute acute ó = ω: tool...
while omicron was more grave (ò)...
and up! upsilon! the u was first acute
before it became the ω in the german
umlaut (ü)...

otherwise: there's mOre to what's
later a mOvie... the elongation of:
tool... the distinction: thus pronounced...
wants to be recognißed -
the s to z to s to z interchange within
the ß: es'zett... yes... the apostrophe is "somehow"
necessary...

if the hebrews have their vowels in niqabs...
we can have our...
exfoliation of consonants and vowels...
fully exposed... nonetheless included!
with: details of the frontier!
and in them: i mark my finger in the sand
and skull among the cavern,
the rocks the... ghostly whispers that
shadows should profoundly speak...
but never do...
my shadow my ghost...
my first avenue turned should i be thinking
about a Hiroshima selfie... shadow glued
to the ******* wall... move it: chess-***...
bullet to the head...
and then two weeks... trying to die...
in a prison cell...
with one nightmare overtaking the previous
nightmare... in how...
your brain will never be:
the eyes-connected to the sponge:
mr. chikatilo...
the sponge: sorry... nothing but shrapnel...
perhaps some eyes...
but your eyes are consistently closed...
let's not mind them...

and what's because, what?
finnegans' wake: no diacritical markers...
because, what? low on ink?
if low on ink... can't help you...
but if not enough paper?
¶ (pilcrow) all the paragraphs! sardine words
onto the page!

the god awful truth was that i smoked
marijuana in england...
and... the ******* is free! upon the pretence
that you don't own a brothel...
elsewhere: namely Amsterdam...
while in Amsterdam i had a thought:
what about ******* a siamese twin
in some vacant... Tehran nightmare come true?
gang-bangers are treated better than i...
in terms of "treatment":
the best they ever gave me...
was to be left: to my own devices...
when i should have been learning german...
they sent me to the window-licker class
of c.v. writers anonymous...
because: m'ah hanging-leash of in and leash
was a bad, spotty E... with a tail!
devil's spawn... or something that would
always come from the warsaw pact...
or... coming from one: under the iron curtain...
would show... and cover the current brood...
with a change of element...
from under the iron curtain...
then unto: under the silicon curtain..

i'm sure the people have chosen their chess
pieces prior to this: *******-ramming
of the anger itching from the cranium
of a castrated bull...

mash up... no interludes...
let's keep it staccato... and... fits the purpose of...
how best lodged into form...

                   because the iota and the j are...
let's face it... forced diacritical cage-masters...
i graffitied the original...
because... it became obsolate to simply
translate and become overtly pedantic
as to why: ****** grammar was not going
to fit anglo-slav grammar...
never mind the anglo-ßaß grammar: "native"...

/ чytając stare kroniki, poematy i жywoty Pan Cogito
doświadчa czasem učucia fizyчnej obeцności
osób dawno zmarłych (tampering with a lox ness)

mówi Kaligula

spośród wszystkich obywateli Rzymu
kochałem tylko jednego
Inцitatusa - konia

kiedy wшedł do senatu
nieskazitelna toga jego sierści
l'śniła niepokalanie wśród obшytyx purpurą
tchórzliwych morderцów

Inцitatus był pełen zalet
nie przemawiał nigdy
natura stoiцka
myśłe ze noцą w stajni čytał filozofów

kochałem go tak bardzo жe pewnego dnia
postanowiłem go ukrzyzować
ale sprzeciwiała się temu jego szla(ch)etna anatomia

obojetnie p(rz)yjął godność konsula
wła(dz)e sprawował najlepiej
to znaczy nie sprawował jej w'cale

nie udało sie nakłonić go to trwałych związków miłosnych
z drogą жoną moją Caesonią
więц nie powstała niestety linia cesa(rz)y - centaurów

dłatego Rzym runął

postanoviwem mianować go bogiem
lecz (dz)iewiątego dnia p(rz)ed kalendami lutowymi
(Ch)erea Korneliusz Sabinus i inni gwupcy p(rz)eшko(dz)ili
tym zboжnym zamiarom

spokojnie przyjął wiadomość o mojej śmierci

wyrzucono go z pałacu i skazano na wygnanie

zniósł ten cios z godnością

umarł bezpotomnie
zaшla(ch)towany przez gruboskórnego rzeźnika
z miejscowości Ancjum жшчčšц

o pośmiertnych losach jego mięsa
milчy Taцyt       /

no... no Helmut will help you with: dość! enough!
some casanova Nikita might - with:
szczypta: pinch - via... ш + ч = щ: vague - i know...

ah! the calendar's days of february...

already i see that this poem is "unspectacular" -
everything what was supposed to be lost
in translation is, lost -
the jealousy fizzles out and it's plain
as a shadow at noon on a sunny day
that it was never inteded to be there - to begin
with...

perhaps it's not the direct translation -
but how certain words just: sound more appealing -
and add toward the grandiosity...

i don't see how a poem can be translated
without something being lost...
after all: i want to lose: rather retain something
in / from a poem...
i want language to... freely...
"inter-racialiße" itself:
modus operandi - the lingua franca...
the l'ingelese of the modern chapter...
as the greeks would point out:
if the english tourists will not speak our tongue...
if the english tourists will not speak our tongue...
then we will speak their tongue...
and speak it was belgian speak it...
which is, better, than these nativistic half-breeds
of: 3/4 empire pride riddled...
1/4 rotherham bewildered...
we will not out-breed them...
we will: simply talk over them...
and their accents...
which we will learn and thereby:
insinuate over: via diacritical markers
and exceptional surd status reminders
of the raj: H...

i will claim that poetry is where i "paint"...
**** it. collage...
rude importune and most obscene...
a thesaurus cascade of synonyms!
impromptu one off...
it's not a hosonnah in the highest...
but a sitar in the bellowing detphs of the ebb...
it's a growling escapade...
something that ****** a yeti from
the carpathian mountains...
something that would require otherwise
to give it shackles, chains and a non-existent
lunatic asylum!

why dooes picking up... an alive cat...
make you succumb to an affair less...
bothersome... when you are indeed picking up /
handling a dead cat?
don't know...
a quasi-symbiotic affair between
matter and anti-matter?
borrowed terms.... outside of physics's disneyland
pretty irrelevant...
a corpse of a dead cat is always more
heavy than... the animated corpus of
a cat still outside the schrödinger
brackets:    cat[                            ];
what'­s death then? a colon, a semi-colon;
a hyphen or an apostrophe?
notably? an apostrophe without having
to be inclined to be used in a:
possessive article 's "scandal"?

i will escape with this language: i learned,
i acquired... i will leave the natives with
nothing but leather for skin:
that i will mark as an armchair...
i will entertain no more than
a genghis khan would have...
when the tanks started rolling...
and the luftwaffe was extinguished...
because... an invasion of an island...
no tanks, no bullets, no bombs...
diacritical markers... instead...

these letters are still: ROME!
came late to the party... had the vaguest notion
of coming late: but also becoming
the d.j.!

old mother: Cyrylica...
will and always helped...
the "natives"...
understand the reins and you can surely
translate... all the old paintings
with: we rode bulls into battle...
we didn't ride horses...
what does an army that that rides bulls
have as compensation compared
to an army that rides horses into battle?
well... a lance with a sharp point is...
replaced with the horns...
and a vector signature of red tied
to the end of a stick...
the horns replace the lance... the end...

somehow: and as the polytheistic gods
came as surprise material in:
goat-******* and bull-******* and swan-fiddling...
the monotheistic god came as...
the lowest of men...
because:
     Δ and... ∇: when nabla met delta:
the son of david was born:
which was called by surname: astar...
david astar...
       the phenomenon of...
when the father would become jealous
of the son: solomon...
or... rather... the son would never look up
toward the archetype of father...
because the father has his psalms...
while the son had the harem sonnets
of... sparrow-hoarding ****** of the onomatopoeia...

teach? teach? i am this close to...
correcting what has already been written...
however impossible...
claustrophobia and james joyce esque...

why not ж = rz...
and... ž = ż...                  half a caron: źrenica:
pupilla...
a back catalogue of a bilingual bank of vocab
is: the reason i "solve" and "crosswords"
on a blank canvas... like so...

and how do you think i learned a little bit
of greek: if... ovερλaππινγ?

remaining examples where: ц wasn't used...
well... the diacritical marker hovering above iota
like a halo: should it be used?
in a ciasto (dough) example...
well... debate: ćιasto... or ciasto?
in the confines of ciasto: the "c" is not a ц...
because of the proximity of the iota
as "suffix"... but not as a "prefix"...

    цerkiev... цytat... цытaт: citation...
sigh: tate modern is 20 years old...
but 20 years old will not be...
commemorated with the glass ceiling and:
Olafur Eliasson's 'the weather project' -
which is a great shame -
but who am i to judge?
let it be 'maman' by louise bourgeoise...

the same goes with the acute s...
even... imploring: prosić -
  otherwise... imploring: prośιć...

                   siano vs. śιano: hay
                   śnieg... snow...

i've been advocating the necessary guillotιne
for the iota... and the ȷazzy shιt ιn between...

and so much of my life could be deemed
simple... but how i can complicate it with a scrutiny
of language...
the best escape plan i can find -
and this is language: outside the realm of
academic rubrics - that it might borrow from
an international phonetic alphabet
of the linguistic dept. it will not...

it will consolidate two languages: dig two trenches...
and then borrow a third language or a fourth
to dig a tunnel or two between the two trenches...

well that's that for sharpening an arrow
and shoving it up cupid's ***...
to make him walk back smothered by knuckles
and recount to his parents:
Eros and Aphrodite... some of us would much
prefer uninterrupted work /
sifting through archaic words...
and leaving: the currency of vogue be:
something that only attracts:
panic is worse than fascism...
panic disorientates large crowds...
which... fascism is... unlikely to do...
so says the universal mantra of cheese grating:
smiles.

somehow i rewarched...
father of the bride today...
in between planting three
roses: hybrids...
cool names like: prima ballerina
tea sunset... etc.

   the wedding itself didn't put
me off...
beside the princess diary
   and... catching that whimsical
thread: hook... and sinker...

i also thought about two things
today while watering the grass
just so: with the drainage:
to get the proper mush-mush
feel of stepping on it...

the grass is going to become
my new pride...
swans... left in the bathtub...
bel-air...
and the fresh prince therein...
the ice-sculptures...

but that... there was a myth...
still alive... in 1990 h'america...
of a production and export
         dynamic?
           who was the last man to
walk in shoes that were
produced, last... in h'america...
beside that... "desgined" in calofornia...
manufactured in a chinese
sweat-shop?

mind-boggling...
a bit like... poland... once upon a time...
had a metallurgical heart...
men were men that did the honest:
good...
call the electrician or...
change the fuse gone dead
in the plug... first?

i thought about two things
when watering the grass...
i thought about smoking a cigarette...
and about... jerking off...
i did the former...
forgot to bother myself with
the later...
***... when you don't have access
to... a systematic toil of the matter...
can become...
hardly an exercise of pleasure...
it can become anything...
except that...

             before walking into
a brothel i'd rub my hands against
bricks....
in order to... feel...
an exponential worth of skin
upon touch...
toughened skin...
         it felt: most likely...
that i'd find a soothing sensation...
when it concerned the "question"
of leather... it's not akin
to curating pig-skin for leather
for a sofa...
it's still... a life with a breath...

they might want to ban...
the father of the bride...
                  i don't have the quizzical look...
or two munchkins at my disposal
to park 200 cars...
or a gucci suit i'd want to fake /
pull off as black... when in fact...
deep seeded navy...

           they might want to ban
the movie because...
                manufacturing jobs...
in h'america?
california produced sport shoes...
did they... magically... spit on...
laurel leaves to conjure up...
prosthetics and...
gum-bear bacon to sleuth...
and wear to be worn down...
come... the 20 year gap?

           cherished plum! eye of my mind...
a daughter to be readily sanctified...
so cherished that she will have...
her... pride parade oops in white...
and..
it's a movie like no other movie...
since...
  the metallurgy was shut-down
in eastern europe...
the divisions and the winds
assunder...
cheaper does it...
but the quality...

   i still own a shirt... fathomed
in bangladesh...
     i could wear it for fifteen..
     but... given the currency of:
made to be easily exhausted...
the chinese "embargo":
nothing is to be traded globally...
if it is... it is to be manufactured
in china...

the lost currency of plumping...
and the new economy of:
time-eating...
        the new economy of:
ice-queen pirouettes...
                     the basking in...
detailing the artifacts of "absence"....
the eastern european...
metallurgy dynamic...
no black slave ever worked
in a coal mine...
           picking cotton isn't exactly
the equivalent of mining for coal...
this shirt off my back?
you can have it...

              adolescence of arguments...
who is to fathom the circus...
when... one isn't allowed...
paint for ogling scare and scared face...

this house... which i can't envy...
this story: which i can't envy, either...
this bride: this take on the in-laws...
this pristine... lie:
this "reality"...
this summation of cruxes laying
the path of X walking a "question" apart...

all that's anything worth...
a... lessening of humour...
when the reflection... extracted from
water... is a ghost...
a ghost-esque synonym of fading
memory...
the old reflection... born from water...
like the old forbidden fruit...
perhaps the fruit was...
to have... stated the a posteriori
niqab: consummation point -
that the gods were like us...
should we find enough water...
to peer into... and find ourselves:
the lesser of the apes: and half-witted gods...

then born from water...
a fading reflection... a ghost visage...
but... perfected... sharpened...
and now standing before
a mirror...
what was once a reflective piece...
of apparatus...
a fading clue...
had to become...
a reflexive: frankenstein myth...
a retort! an aghast and a horrowing
miasma of... borrowed...
vowel-consonant compensations
of... left-over reasoning(s)...

     standing before a mirror:
****... reflex comes itching...
talking becomes... breaking...
a solipsistic adventure in quasi...
but... taking to...
a reflection in a puddle...
or a lake...
or a glass of water...
or... a black coffee cup...
i lose the ability to reflex my
"circumstance"...
i reflect... i fade...
i marry the murk of the diabolical
waters...

as i re-imagine cinema...
9 hours worth of...
resident evil 2... walkthrough video...
which is not...
gone with the wind...
which is not...
     the director's edit of:
apocalypse now!
or ben hur! shy of 4 hours...

but this... game... walkthrough?
over 9 hours...
a cinema for...
post-hoc gaming...
     cinema-esque revelations...
old ideas: old hamster...
but an apparently new: wheel...

- the genius that conjured up a blatant
combination of...
an iceberg (salad) and some
mayonnaise...
     who might also...
curate the geometric skeleton
of square...
along... the bonus of...
the shading synonym differentiations
of...
the in between of when
blue came along with yellow...
and... bob's your uncle...
out came green...

                      the wrapping of a tortilla...
and the unpacking of a stranger's suitcase...
then the tortilla as the reinvented:
toast... because... sooner or later...
it will be known...
continental crows are much
fatter than their cousins on the isles...
except for the freaks they...
fatten with... black pudding and blood
soaked crumbs at the white tower
of loon'down...
  by that... murk of a river...
with no... blessing of a concept
of time... as... passing...
but... instead... bothersome...
because... it has... a tide... and hours...
subsequently...

                  it's not that subjectivity is "bad",
per se...
it's not like there's a way to
escape: being subjected to...
                gravity... time...
sure... the ++ benefits of being objective
about space: one can easily objectify
space...
but one... can't... objectify time...
beside that one time it was tried...
and so history became...
"something borrowed"...
clown and circus mad envy riddle
of marking bull *******
for the dough, and...
it was never... the hammer and the nail...
the sickle and the shaft of wheat...

because the stereotype hanged supreme...
the new... "capitalists"...
had a word to say...
but also managed...
what they managed...
the mug prints... the t-shirt... prints...
d.j. arcadia!
               prometheus...
           loan word bargain:
the carbon footprint of the collateral
social distancing laws...

       and what "talk" of love is there...
what pompous ****-ah-zoid is about
to lay the foundations of "function":
best... left... undisturbed...
        this lacklustre of the idealism:
love central: i'd love you tripple
and treble "good-time"...
make you ****... **** thrice...
******* **** go numb!
   fishing for shrimps!

              curl up all your *****:
give that... "excess" of *******
the geese-strutting... "bumps"...
                      
  here's to: any and every... imitation
junk-e and the yard to fathom a be...
here's to... any and every...
imitation... fast-trolled gimmick...
moth chaser...
like an exploding bottle
of carbon dioxide contained within:
the turkish buddha...
sitting akimbo...
               a feasing of... translation...
of a postcard with a DASEIN
implied...
no smarter than... the runner concept...
designed for... he...
who... would... stand... still...
and watch... warsaw and manchester...
grovel before the alter altar of time...

how can one be...
subjective about... space?
how is subjectivity... something "less"...
than objectivity?
time is subjective...
space is objective...
             i once asked...
i'm no einstein... einstein imagined
travelling at the speed of light...
light travels with our understanding of:
c²  -
           i asked...
what of...                  c³?
                the concept of light... cubed...
subjecivity is a purely communist
child... abhored... "wrong"...
to be the subject of:
the defenders of the crown!
  i asked... what of light that is...
stationary... c³... surely there must be an equation
to compensate a loss of the mobility of
light?

the speed of light: cubed:
thus stationary: light as stationary
expansion...
              
what is so... possibly wrong with:
the subjectivity...
because of the crown...
a communist variation is: absolutely wrong...
retards are being claimed to govern
new grounding...
because the smart people are all:
objective...
the novel and the novella written
from the perspective of objectivism...

subjective is ******...
objective is genius...
        that's the ******* motto!
repeat!
repeat!
              repeat!
subjective is ******!
objective is genius!
                 that thinking is
more important than feeling...
sure... and...
not feeling is most important
to give a birth to thought!
apathetic, solipsistic... semi-
if not wholly-consumed by...
an autism of capitalistic-objectivity...
and... sociopathy...

   for all the worth of thinking:
and... that thinking...
this prized asset of objectivity...
the keter... crown...
without... the subjectivity of...
the yesod... the foundation...
            schizoid paraphrasing
a last known unison of...
a constellation... somewhere...
and a universe: for some...

subjectivity is no wrong:
if you want to be subjected to...
reading a novel by Stendhal...
because to read a Stendhal novel...
to be without a subjectivity "bias"
is to... not enjoy
the act of reading to begin with...
one will be granted a "moral superiority"
as the objective reader of...
diatribe falsetto "journalist"
bogus print-god work of
satanic **** being glorified...
what's so... communist...
about "it" being subjective...
and what's so... capitalistic...
about "it" being objective?
  
the people "in the know"
who always want to be "right"... right...
subjectivity is bad:
because...
all the ******* time...
we can just.. "opt out"... from...
being... objectified by gravity!
i much... prefer...
the subtle cookie-variation of...
well... sport... son of sam...
i'm subjected to gravity...
by being subjected to gravity...
i can cut a crisp escapism...
i will transcend the: being subjected to...
and object to it...
and i will give myself:
Icarus-esque dreams
of closely related fathomability...

but i need to know...
what being subjected to said "thing"
implies!
i can't just... play the idealist...
and ping-pong... and object-object my way
out of this... "scenario"...

the genius of capitalism
and the retardation of communism...
while... the capitalists...
exported all their... manufacturing
jobs to... the crying dragon...
well... if not ****** then...
absolute genius!

subjectivity is bad...
objectivity is good...
"somehow"...
        i like eating pork...
i also like frying it...
           the placebo...
        anemia of objectivist scrutiny
statements...
who gives a **** if you...
once upon a time...
enjoyed eating a steak...
        you will not be subjected
to beef...
you will objectify beef...
you will drop these pills...
of replica... of the stated nutrients...
and you'll ******* smile
while you're at it! savvy? sputnik jim?!