shall i compare thee to a summers day?
i admire shakespeare for being such a yaknow, writer
and i wish i could equate to his flowing of words and make hidden messages between the metaphors
i try my hardest
but amogst the other angsty teens who bleed tears and numbness
it's hard to compare thee to a summers day when thats what everyone is doing
but it's so true
you are the flowers that bloom out of my ribcage after winter has been in my lungs for some time
and you are the sunshine that peaks through to warm my heart
you are the summer rain and wind that makes me flutter like the butterflies in the south
but you are also a human
and sometimes you turn to winter
or spring
or fall
but i love thee til mine death
and theres something poetic about the old english
this modern english makes me feel less of a romantic lover and writer all together
i want to compare thee to cold bedsheets after a sweaty day or the splash of water onto my feet when the ashpalt gets too hot for touch
i want you to be my metaphor for everything
i want it to be simple and complicated and use really big words because im pretentious
but i just want to love you
and as we progress into the robot era
i still sit here writing my love for you
bleeding for you
this is not romeo and juliet
and i never really know what im doing
im actually quite a mess
and this doesnt make sense
but the spark of light for my love of you will never dim to darkness
and i will hold the candle to the heavens as an offering for you to be the eternal light
this is rambling on and on probably
but i love thee
je t'aime
ich liebe dich
i love you
do you compare me to a summer day?
am i colorful like a meadow and soft like a cloud?
am i your greatest living, breathing, loving figuruative language?
or am i another hopeless (hopeful) romantic that is another page in a story that you wont speak of or analyze enough to understand
will you skim me?
i sometimes doubt your knowledge of love for me
i wonder if it's surface love
or if it pulls your heart to your stomach to ache when my touch and laugh is unavailable
i wonder if you mourn at the thought of my pain
and if romeo and juliet is a plausable scenerio
ha ha- joking
i sometimes doubt
but i know thee loves
and im sorry that im like this
but at the same time im not
anyways,
and yes, anyways is a word (at least to me)
(english breaks its own rules all the time)
i shall compare thee to a summers day
and thee shall be loved

writing is torture for some people...
i can cite two pristine examples of this being the case:
Walt Whitman and Jack Spicer;
fair enough...

                          i find it torturous that i best
sing Mongolian throat-singing...
anything else? i have my odd moments -
but most of the time if i'm singing in front of
someone: i self-sabotage my voice
and it sounds: beyond tone-deaf...
it feels like an elephant stuck its trunk into
my ear and sneezed...

          oh i hear the bells... bells bells... fuzzy
feelings and what not...
all those poems i threw to the wind and into
darkness into any deity willing to listen
to my "de profundis":
de profundis ad nihil:
   from the depths toward nothing...

i don't think i'll ever want to finish reading
Charles Dickens' the Pickwick Papers...
i don't think i will...
    i want to leave something unfinished...
i think i'll leave the Pickwick Papers unfinished...
after all: it was his first novel:
a novel serialised in a newspaper / magazine...
he only managed to jump of the publishing
ladder by marrying the daughter of the owner
of the publisher: non-verbatim...

               but of all the books i've read:
i couldn't do what my grandmother did
i.e.: reread them...
     i wish i could reread James Joyce's Finnegans
Wake... Ulysses...
   i wish i could reread William Burroughs'
naked lunch...
                  
   while music and movies are circular...
books are linear...
         at least for me...
                      oh no ******* chance of me rereading
Heidegger's black notebooks or Zeit und Sein:
it took two years out of my life
bound to reading-meditating...
     Kant's critique of pure reason too...
a year? reading-meditating...
                           i was ingesting the content...
i read it for personal gains...
                      i was never going to read that
material in order to regurgitate it back...
to show or "pretend" that i might know what
i'm talking about, if asked...

       what i learned i'm taking to the grave...
but it's literally torture for some people to write...
i find a similarity to... wait for it: wait for it...
constipation... almost like a headache...
then irritable bowel movements...
have to go: i'm seeing flashes of waterfalls!
and spew!
          
    i sometimes catch myself tongue tied...
sitting in silence with itchy fingertips / idle hands
does that to you... two tongues and a split
mind might also do that to you...
the major difficulty of being an entrenched
bilingual? nouns...
    they're mismatched...
sometimes a hammer is a młotek (diminutive -
which is never attached to English words)
               i.e. rather młot...

what's a bang?! it's not even an onomatopoeia:
HUK! or: hook...
            which isn't etymologically borrowed
from Huracan... although...
                aesthetically, though? hook vs. HUK...
obviously the latter makes sense...
        if i were to give two words to a German
and say both with an angry emphasis:
he might agree that HUK is as phonetically
liberating as KURVA... *****... *****... oh ****...
conjunction...

    maybe i should be "embarrassed" about my past...
everyone else seems so proud of their heritage...
i just had to look up...
hmm...  the topic of the North Sea Empire
of Cnut...
             what did i find? hmm...
               nice looking map... allies in yellow...
Poland... perhaps Swedish Vikings founded Kiev...
nerve endings at being teased...

how much history have we hoarded?
how much is to be left un-forgivably forgotten?

oh there's still good music around...
but it's not in the English speaking world...
anything from Scandinavia... Germany...
you just have to look for it...

**** me... i'm drinking and drinking and i want
to get drunk... but it's not helping...
if Americans can constitute their present
identity on the "holy bible" of the decleration
of independence and the constitution
and the holy bible...
the English can cite their origins with the Magna Carta...
so me doing this? i.e. sieving through
history is not me playing into the modern
fable of comic books?! this is not me being...
somewhat childish, is it?

not that modernity doesn't have its perks...
but i feel an unease coming...
a strange unease...
           only recently i heard about an event
in Italy... the... ahem... Lago di Garda "incident"...

"Africa in Peschiera": weird... huh?
peschiera? fresh water... fish farming area...
well then... no problems me getting laid or not
getting laid...
     it's just in the back of my mind...
cucks... helpful that "us" Slavs don't have
a colonial-past to censure...
maybe this Ukrainian "crisis" is a blessing in disguise:

as the saying goes:

brat brata pocharata...
(brother will brother hurt)...
   i think it's a smart tactic...
              no one from Africa or the Middle East
will want to venture into a warzone...
no?
              Poland was judged for not applying
Germanic sympathy for the destruction
of Libya and the onslaught of migrants that
came with silly geo-politics...
   the rapes of Cologne...
       but now Poland is to be judged for
entertaining over a million war-refugees from
Ukraine?!

brat brata pocharata...

            it's a Slavic thing... i just need some
"public intellectuals" to change their etymological
studies concerning the SACREDNESS OF WORDS...

****** ****** ******...
and what? Slav is just short of an E?!
for SLAVE?!
  ****** ****** ******, ******...
GIGGLE...
******* English "intellectuals"...
it's tactical! of course it is... war among ourselves
so that it repels any foreigners to come
and settle and abuse our fair systems!
    i wish the war will spill into Poland...
i abhor the liberal minded ****** feminists of
"my land"...
   cosmopolitan *******... no! nein! niet!
i live in a democracy...
                just a few need to hear my voice...
i'm not here for a popular listening sessions...
this is the heart speaking... the mind has been
absent for some time...
  
              i know why i'm not getting drunk
while still drinking... my heart is throbbing
like a drum-beat...

      cucks!
            the import of walking ******...
                 it's a good "thing" that the Slavs
are warring between each other...
the Germanic tribes never understood us...
sensibilities of the English...
their pride of conscience and consequence(s)...
the airs, their prides... their consequences...
their ****** warring... with the Germans...
their love for the Italians...
their abhorring of the French...
their sub-human attitude toward the Spaniard...
their glorification of the rebel Americans...
their pet Canadians and Australians...

their plot of anti-racism...
just sacrifice their Sabine women...

brat brata pocharata!
a brother will hurt a brother...

                the message is clear... the Russian
had to send it... don't come near us...
it's almost like
Copernicus never existed... esp. in the west...
Copernicus has always been undermined
by Galileo...
fair enough...
   but couple the Copernican inversion...
a geocentric model became a heliocentric model...
until... Darwin...
   hey! it's open season!
with Darwin: the survival of the species...
last time i heard there were both white swans
as there were black swans...
grey squirrels and red squirrels...
either black swan or white swan...
whether grey squirrel or red squirrel...
Darwinism is discriminatory...
i know my genes are fated to a cul de sac...
but my ideas perhaps might...
impregnated a mind of "someone"...

point being... Darwinism has...
uprooted the transcendental aspect of
Copernicus of shifting the focus from
a geocentric model to a heliocentric focus...
back to a geocentric focus...

on this earth, with this earth: with these seas...
these rivers... full circle:
ouroboros: ∞ (lemniscate) - Buddha-8...
reclining... as 8 was a better refined B-eta...
when VII implied 7... a sort of gamma
peering into a lake: Γ... looking
into a mirror looking into a lake of the Latin L...

i have no sympathy for Ukraine...
like Ukrainians had no sympathy for Poland
when **** Germany invaded...

Darwinism is a tool...
we're back to a geocentric model of the world...
don't you know? didn't you know?!
Darwinism exposed the frivolity of
seeking a world "better" / "beyond" this one
beside the promises of religion
with one's death...
    
Darwinism is the antithesis of
   the Copernican imagination...
              then again: even William Burroughs
once cited: oh sure... sure...
the ancient Egyptians knew all about it...
they knew about taxidermy long before...
they "tried" to make their mummies look
pretty...
               sorry... did they talk to Norman Bates?!

taxidermy did not precede mummification...
sorry...  it didn't...
me?! i feel infuriated...
i feel... consecrated on balancing:
i feel... i don't need to think!
i feel persuaded as having been invaded...
i need to retaliate...
   as a member of the ****** ****** SLAVE
Slav tribes... i feel violated...
now the feeling is over:
i'll start thinking...

   best we bore a fight amogst each other than
allow this dilution of race in Western Cultures...
this "invitation" of post-colonial pasts...
these multiple narratives of a polyglot
of narratives that serve as erasures
of the origins of tongues within the confines
of copper-necks and their "Lingua Franca"
of the horrid English that's neo-Neo-Babylonian...

better your kindred war against
your kindred than invite a people you treat
with double standards to invite
synthetic expectations...
        
i didn't need a war in either Afghanistan or
Iraq... or Libya... Syria...
but i need a war in Ukraine...
why? to move people is to pretend
a Xerxes madness of lashing out anger
at the waves of the Aegean...
               sea be still as a lake!

that's what Darwinism gifted me with:
a return to the geocentric model of the world...
i too have my interests...
like tarantulas have an interest
in scuttling & their inability
to fathom... procuring spider-webs...

i can forgo thinking about the stars...
i must look down:
re-affirm my presence...
             i'll hang your racist accusations...
no.. i will not crucify them....
i'll just impale them...
                 hyperbolic **** "frolicking"...

what?!
             if i were to wield the sort of power
that might give you the scare...
i'd give you more: than a mere scare:
i'd give you the reality.