I left the scent of bleach
To the palms of my father
And disavowed his residence,
A rock atop, “Mount Redeye.”
Let him keep the – sore back,
Torn ankle and manic boss too.

In adamancy, I mention this,
Special sort of, “resolute,”
While sipping nectar
Blanketed ether
Come the first minute
I ought be somewhere else.

And it’s when our sun greets,
The, “guilt,” the, “grief,”
Or tomorrow’s, “acquiesce,”
That I’d taste an awkward
Twitch of, “failure,”
Unbecoming last night’s plum;

Something lesser than sweet,
And a torture at tip of tongue –
An existence’s, “respect,”
Fermented, “20 years,” overdue,
Come peak, the admission of
My unrelenting weakness.

And though I’d never really
Known, “Him,”
I knew what he did,
I did what he did,
And’d lasted only days,
Having worked if only hours.

I’d left jobs before; he couldn’t.
I’d walked before; he wouldn’t,
And how my sweet amnesia failed;
But rather, scarred; burnt sacred,
Blunt, and brim of soul, prior
Sobriety and when I wept, “Father.”

i still feel that people are under-engrossed
in the simple statement they took to mean
rubric, and i took as me own, i.e.:
    just... because... i sorta feel like it...
          i really decided that
hollywood was a bit *******
and shallow, a bit dandy,
i mean: just a bit sad...
if you but a pistol against my
temple, i probably might feel something....
but hey! there comes a saving
repirsal...
i call them the alt-left
i.e. those who said: thanks for displacing
our great barrier reef
   bound by eastern europe....
a billion chinese....
    you chong that cha cha and later
spreak qua chi?
       i evidently didn't want to be an exile,
i didn't want to be a patron saint
of exile... rotting in england...
  that fertile ground of what's to come
in america...
   all you get is my laughter:
when homosexuality just spelled
out: a right of opinion,
when homosexual forgot being artists
and instead started to gear i.v.f. children,
when all the waste came back
without an Eddy Gein to talk
giving the leather-face abstract...
   very few of us could scale
such heights, yet the majority of us
became castrated by supposing we had to
do as the anti-analogue suggested:
oh sorry, too many words?
better me than the taxman checking
your bank-account...
how low can you go, seriously:
  the i.v.f. / test-tube argument was spawned
by children living in mono-*** households....
i'm just watching the clock when they
start to fall off into the proclamation of rights:
America is funny, and i am prone to
laugh...
      it's the argument you'll hear from
the science abuse of: those who can't reproduce,
and therefore raise no children...
not with a mannequin scientist telling
them: yes, you, can!
well, apparently they can...
      two protons make a neutron akin
to an electron dynamic...
     i can't help but see the fault with
the brain being the source of thinking...
i can't help thinking about it...
i could care to make the brain
the source of thought, and the delusions:
soul, god... had i found out that the brain
is as degenerate as a heart...
what, can you convince me with Alheimer's?
   it's really there, was it ever only there?
i find claim to find the origin of thought
as solely brain-orientated...
and there you go off with your neuroscience
*******...
          at least yoga teaches that
a person exists: meaning the whole body
is involved... not some itemisation part-counter-part...
i can't believe fat thinks,
and how the brain degenerates
by the verse of acne via protein equivalent
attacking it, when brain does what people
suggested: does the brain power,
compares the function of the brain to gym...
i.e. you can ever do
crosswords, and other "enigmas"
      and easily escape the moral question....
yes, i've been to prostitutes...
but it's what i did with them that matters,
not that you suddenly think to be superior levitating
above me having gone through
3 marriages... feel superior now?
probably not...
               i am really thinking
about piercing your gob and tugging it
into the pig-trough... so i can see you say
the words manure with oats....
        boring, as ever...
snowflakes that never reach the construct of
a snowman...
                  where the donkey, and the carrot?
it's certainly not a carrot-donkey story
where one's imaginary and the other
is motivated...
        i could have claimed homosexuals once,
even championed them...
about the same time
that art became boring, and they
   decided to do the standard heterosexual
thing of starting families...
    i got bored when one really became
the man, and the other really became a woman...
and there were kinds involved...
and there was no **** coercing the androgyny -
about the time when androgyny died...
when it became less and less confusing
and more cohort...
  that's when i did the one best thing
i could ever do with res vanus -
i turned cogito = mars...
   and yes, the concept of thought incorporated
into a deity from the ancient yore of
a polytheism emerged as: no gods really do...
because once you take to ennabling
a single god from the pantheon to thought
rather than being... you **** all the gods...
and each of the pantheon as alike in
thinking... huh?
     we introduced no more than omni-
to the gods of the greeks...
we did the averse-Prometheus...
upon stealing fire from Olympus,
we dragged thought into Olympus...
  prior to this: the concept of a thinking god
made no sense to be human...
    it's only with a thinking god
  or what's to be called, the basis of omni-
        that we became, slightly dislodged...
        a thinking god is the basis for a god
circumstanced out of the omni- prefix...
that's... that'sthe power of thought...
     thus with a god capable of thought
i can be but an empty thinkg (res vanus) -
and whathever violence comes my way...
with whatever violence i'd like to translate
as arm, stone, throw... i'll keep contained
as merely violent thought...
   nearing the telepathic adamancy...
but that means: a god... not a republic
of gods... which means a thinking god...
   which means that i can't think if
there's an omni- suggestion of being...
  meaning there's no evil genius or akin
given the cartesian res cogitans -
     and how the brain as an ***** is prone
to be degenerate akin to kidney...
    meaning that cogito ergo sum
isn't the right fact, just that res cogitans is...
i am empty, a thing of emptiness,
a res vanus, and i am impregnated by thought,
or by a pseudo-dasein... a being there:
that translates as rioting...
                     and all because
of the concept of a thinking god, and the prefix omni-.
man gave way to the prompt of
the gods not becoming non-existent,
but toward a prompt of merely thinking...
  and now man questions why he is how he is,
and why he behaves as he behaves,
and why there's even a case to question
being as an antidote to non-being, yet nonetheless
seeing the thus: of abhorred content and
a much greater take on what's to be abhorred.
    the omni- prefix concept only came
about when we decided that gods ought to think
after having acted like a pillaging Mongolian
horde akin to Zeus morphing into swans
to ******* **** a few demigods along the way...
the fact that there is a "god" with the given
omni- prefix standards...
  wait a minute... i lost the plot!
  over-stating the points included in this
statement over-and-over again won't work...
           i already said what i wanted to say...
trying to clarify the points as simply as
1 + 1 = 2 will not really help...
       i can't achieve a clarity of 1 + 1 = 2
no more than Kant could in his critique of pure reason...
it's language... you're writing a book...
   if it was staged to a mathematical simplicity
as 5 + 7 = 12... then i'd simply write the zenith
as a + p + p + l + e = apple...
hiding behind a mathematical zenith
while writing out the Hades using directly
confrontational optics to sound symbols
              rather than optics to thought symbols
will not help...
          the next tier of language is exploration
beyond 1 - 9, i.e. Δ -
       that's really the Pythagorean genesis...
they are bound to say delta...
       and beyond a - z...
   well: nothing you can exactly internalise...
fist, foot... stone... stuff of protests,
and farming a field of potatoes... donning
Lenin's goatee, while pretending to
play the violin, akin to fiddling with it
as a Rasputin might.

I will not refrain from making this personal
You have dwelled in me long enough
To force my hand
This hand, that now, won’t stop shaking
Because of you
Scribbling ink upon paper-
Smudged with sweat from my brow

Inside
The fires of your hell,
Outside
The tundra of your stare,
Rattle my brain
And from me you drain
My strength and my patience
I retain only adamancy
To rival your vexation

You, who have crippled me so
I pray you know, how much I loathe
Your pestilent touch
But I beg you still,
To keep my hands,
To keep my head,
To leave me this much.

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.

now i just look at words:

          i sometimes want:
to describe what the tongue doesn't
need to prompt or cue -

mostly thanks for e. e. cummings...

it's so necessary to find this
metaphysical tongue
in my brain -
how it's a mundane thought:
nothing at all worth
morally questioning -

loitering in a status quo...
or -
        beginning a sentence
with a conjunction:
rather focusing on conjunctions
bilingually...

an hour prior i would really
focus on etymology and
nouns in bilingualism -

something prophetic had to
be excavated from argentina...
it's not like i don't like new
music... it's that there's so much
of it: listening alone
to it is unlike sharing it...

         notably IAH - III...

to: this
tamto: that
tam: there
           w - in
o - about
            even if english allows
i - ja
              or a - the indefinite article...
z - with...
          
what am i with my born
with tongue that...
unlike those who arrived
on these shores as *****...
in the loving embrace...
that they were born
in england...

              some made-up
propensity to teach
others from a native foundation:
because... the bilingual
is somehow less?

spew me canon fire of words...
mesmerize me!
no: clear vantage point for
exploitation...

a long winding crescendo...
a labour under the gravity of using
wings...
a completed dialectical question...
which never allows
a rhetorical answer...
as plato noted:
a mere yes or no...
for the inquirer is asking
a question to further his rhetorical
pursuit of inquiry...

classics... i should read up on
some Aeschylus...
i can't imagine south america
as an extension of spain...
i guess the conquistadors
really did **** with
the aztec and the mayan women...
i find south america as
unique...
devoid of spain's influence...
language alone is not enough...
spanish was never going
to be an undermined language...
it was never to be subverted
by either german or russian...

but this english litany:
how the new continent is still
having to mind inheritance...
how the inheritance "tax" is so...
suffocating and strait-jacket esque...
i can clearly see
argentina for argentina...
is hardly a whole lot to do with
spain being dragged into europe...
into the funnel...

    celt and prior
romans and prior...
  oh no... this is not a history lesson...
then the germans
then the slavs
then the huns the mongols the turks
the... turkmen etc.
this little crevice of land...
this sort of in between
of continental pride:
a place to build a ship and...
******* to new a greater pasture...
to adventure...
to a small island in the pacific...

i never have to think of brazil
as an extension
of portugal...
   even though their language is
so: base... same...
or mingle with argentina a spain...
but in the anglophonic realm...
tightly-knit community
of: 'just across the pond'...
pond: d'uh... the atlantic...

       you can't call it an english
or a spanish diaspora -
                  hardly...
                 i try to think back
and relate to my fellow language
proficiency exemplars...
what chains bind me:
that i am prior to self-first selfish...
my own owning my ownership...
before i am cannibalised
by a national identity...

            it must seem rather strange
to explore these avenues in this tongue...
cry! schizoid! tremors!
blah blah...
                 that i do find immovable
"pawns" in england...
people who will not... dare thread
crossing barriers with exception
to holidaying on some greek island
or... spain... of all places...
they are so intrinsically adamant
in not splitting their mind
with kneading the dough-for-a-tongue
of a second language...
well... i call them immovable "pawns"
rather than n.p.cs...
        
perhaps i would write in my native
zunge - perhaps i'd tease at some germanic:
alt vater albion to boot...
or scribble some cyrillic -
but then: who has that sort of keyboard
and this narrative is begging
for a fluency of time shortened...

         english has no diacritical marks
that i know... which allows speeding
up the process...
if i were to fiddle and playdough with
diacritical markers:
which venture in their idiosyncratic meaning:
stand-alone...
i would...
the english must have thought
they were the afghans of the ancient
world... that they would somehow
inherit latin without...

a german esses und zeds...
    or a french cedilla...
                        or an iberian ninyo...
                             ~ on top of an n...
they had to determine themselves as...
the failure of previous empires
was... their landlocked ergonomic of
spreading...
lend us the greek concept
of free-city-states!
let us use the seas!
the sun will never set!
insomnia barons and pauper maddened
toy kings...

it's  not like the intricacies
of two towing tonnes os tongue is
in anyway unbearble:

w tym - in this
  
but i find it's unnecessary to merely
focus on the disparagement of nouns...
i find red a bogus...
immediately constructed
into plural / masculine / the feminine...
it's never red alone...

czerń is black...
it's almost a verb when being presented
with red...
na czerwono: on red...
czerwony - red (masculine)
czerwona - red (feminine)...
czerwone  - red (feminine plural)
czerwoni - red (masculine plural)...

chechen renegades of post thunk -
the armenians reading into
an ottoman less lightly...

   look here: my prosthetic limb

red is an impasse in my native tongue...
it's like this anglophone
focus on "gender neutral" pronouns...
i can't seem to find...
a red is red...

or what's: back into english...
i read (once upon a time)
coupled with: i read (currently doing)...
there's... red and there's a reed...

what czerń allows is:
czarna, czarny... czarni, czarne...

czerwienić się: to blush...
but the colour red doesn't stand alone
to stress itself without
a "dismabigutation"
when loan grammatical tools
come to the fore...
and implore the "loss od detail"...

for this only one man
has to know two tongues...
and for that i am metaphorically schizoid...
sK-oid... voiding further
the sofa-esque mentality of people:
how i admire those people
with a knowledge of only one tongue...
or two or polyglot with
not dare reminder of
intricacies:
how they arrived at language
proficiency where everything is
either leftover or works just fine:
it's all reflexive and nothing... is ever auld
or odd...

ah... but...
czerwień is an adjective - an allusion to red...
from the burdens of a synonym cloud -
what was once: a bold
introspection... has become an alluded to...
a loan... a gimmick
a burgundy is a hue of red...
a deviation... how it teases
purple...
                 it's a quality... "esque"...
this native tongue of mine...
well... it can't escape gendering certain
words...

white is gender inclusive...
          all the colours are!
                  one has to find onself
a gangrene riddled dog barking up
the wrong tree...
when the anglophone debate over
gender neutral pronouns comes
to the fore:
this here the tornado:
i here, the butterfly...

           biały... biała...
"concern" for things...
well... you wouldn't say: biały rzecz (white thing)
you'd say biała rzecz

i imagine the birth of the concept of:
NOTHING to imply...
i have exhausted a desire for
etymology, for nouns...
for calling things concretely like
some geologists or chemist...
i'm here, socrates... borrowed for
glue and chewing gum and
the leftovers of conversation...

i.e. "thing" is the precursor generic
noun... nothing = nonoun...
something new... pronoun aside...
nothing for me implores:
gesticulating at nonoun -
Kant almost saw this coming
with his noumenon...

to talk without having to implore oneself
the details of seeing a feline marker...
because: that's what we already
do! a cat is a cat is not necessarily
a maine ****... or a siamese!
a dog is a dog isn't necessaarily
a cocker spaniel of a german shepherd!

a tree is a tree isn't necessarily an oak
or an acorn!
this cognitive construct could
only have been invented by the faculty
of memory: how best to filter,
throw a cipher into a bowl of
borrowing deciphers...
memory this formerly grand
cameo cinema that had to become
a fickle ontology... destined for a per se...

yet how i strain myself to
keep it on a leash...
after the acid bath of pedagogy and...
drilling into me the arithmetic of 2 + 2 = 4...
how i "wake"...
that i spell these words with
such adamancy...
is because i want to: i desire for them
to be strictly bound...
i could sooner slash my wrists than
allow myself to turn all sloppy...
lazily prone to heave: third party
slobbering leftovers of ****-towing-curd...

i will not lend my eyes to spell out
either greek or "proto" greek via cyrillic:
it's enough to know the CZ and CH
and this loitering demiurge
phoneticism: riddle a people with
enough mammon worship:
and sooner or later the pennies just
drag: extensive as to how
copper write was invented:
two feeble scots arguing over a penny...

for the nuance of a solitary reader...
had i the fortitude of a single tongue:
a well arrived at presentation
of a universal man...
i didn't have this blockages of
bilingualism:
it's not that i "somehow" find myself
obstructed:
there's this intilled:
reflexive: pronoun compound:
as there's this reflective: my self...

the ancient 'uns speak of a selb
to masquerade an imitation throw...
i dangle my arm and
pretend there's a stone in it..
i have to gladly arrive
at this sorrow for an ongoing praise
of pursuit per se:
i can't imagine chasing ****
was ever much fun to begin with...

but when it mattered and it must have
mattered...
i weaved a loneliness to the prusuit
of staging aloofness:
which married itself to... some german...
and lately had to revised:

jetzt: now...
           hier: here...
this teutonic beer hall:
tam-da-ra-day...
       sing-along...
                          
               limbo wording when finding
awkward "squares":
the geocentric model and the loath
of patriarchy...
the heliocentric model and
the ****** crisp queen
of gynocentrism...

  today i tried to figure out
how a siamese twin could ever
overcome a sstatus symbol
of herr cain... serial killer....
i couldn't: but the image struck me as...
somewhat... belitteling and...
"sincere"...
           how impossible it was...
to ever find... a siamese killer...
beside the serial stressor...

chances are:
if i were not "culturally appropriating"
this english...
if i had questionable insight
into an antithesis of all is well:
western cosmopolitan...
french of service! please amore!

if this wasn't a shadow
of ol' *****: risky...
                risque?
  esque...
               russian: pax varshava...
              such that the sun never itches
to sleep....
aeschylus is to be mourned...
wait 2000+ years from now...
this will translate
into a paragraph of... less conjunctions
and more... punctuation markers...
i hope the diacritical marks still
retain their stature...

i speak two languages
yet it's a burden for 6 o 7...
i only speak two languages...
yet it's a "burden" that would gladly make
an affair of a dozen "creases"...
have... astounding pressure
being met with:
economical proficiency being...
exacted: as therefore stressed...

for the worth of a night arrived at...
i have to spare you...
endearing prospect of a reader..
my limit...
petting cats i fathomed inately...
for the better half of my exposed
self: churned into ***...
i was an amateaur at...

here's to me ******* a headless chicken:
trans-spaecian misinformed "..."
additionally curses never
to revise a 1950s h'american
nostalgia pillow credo...

  sleep tight sleep tired...
my most bothersome lacklustre additive
of spike and crescendo lobough'
tammy... and a led zeppelin's play
on hay-maker... with a jive of:
jai... tell me the difference...
between jai and jay...
i'm dying to know!
i'm so pristine raw and ignoble
to have to... concern myself
with these overshoots of...
why i didn't happenstance
a life... and the end result was always
to be... a riddle of walking...
employing
a pretend walking stick...
a ball and a hole...

i was blindly 'ere... scouting
for rabbits and deer
and grouse... i was 'ere limping for
a wolf to wrestle with:
i was 'ere for the gnashing of teeth!
i was never 'ere for a leisure...
a praying for comfort,
for happiness...
   i need this uncertainity pulpit:
zenith.. this long reserved crease...
like it might be: tied into a butterfly
or a "bow".

I asked where do you reside
My anxiety smirked, said
Is there any place better to hide?
Under your skin, I breathe
That aching jaw and tightening chest
Can I have a better place to live?
Amid your bewilderment of heavy breaths
And crazy heartbeats
I reside, I reside and I reside.

I felt defeated at its adamancy
My kindness suggested me to draft
An agreement between me and my anxiety.
The agreement expressed the grounds.
As I picked up the pen, the paper sighed.
Ignoring the thoughtfulness of my inanimate ally
I just continued inking it further.
Did I mention that my anxieties were on the table?
For the agreement can’t be drafted without its terms and conditions.
I proposed to be permitted to come back to the present
And just breath, feel and age.
My anxiety smirked again, it knew
That this was what I found on the internet.
It leaned in and tightened its grip around my skin.
Knowing that it won’t be so easy,
I negotiated, I negotiated and I negotiated