ah yes! now i remember! i lost that poem: where i was talking to Odysseus via Homer, concerning the madness of hearing the sirens and the tales of 21st schizoid man... but that wording is lost: or at least someone retrieved it, kept it for themselves... because i swear by the almighty: there is no magical combination of clicks that can make you close down a web browser and all the pages you had on standby... god created man in his own image: but also the ape... to sort of put man off balance... can't exactly crescendo with that lie any more; unless of course ***** forgot to add: and god made man in his own image: and the monkey in man's image: just so man could forget or not reveal: how god was just this... Lovecraft monstrosity: love me love me love: get crucified!

in the Islamic tradition of conquest
whereby effigies
or paintings would have their eyes
gauged out as the ultimate violation
of soullessness:
sleepy-tide i assume:
more so than the current stagnation
of the newly literate who
scribble words in graffiti on sacrosanct
"concepts":

last night was the last time i bemoaned
of took to fright and despair
at the magic finger combination
on QWERTY that would allow
me to close down a canvas and
leave a poem deleted in limbo...
i have lost at least a dozen poems
by this miraculous feat of magic-finger
"confusion":
and it was a mighty poem...

just as much concerning this morning:
is one supposed to wake up
remembering falling asleep?
just as much as:
is one to die remembering
being alive?
it's a sick travesty of complicating
consciousness with generics
and stereotypes of the supposed
lived experience:
when people phone in to radio
stations and bemoan having
recurrent dreams...
i dream sparingly: disparagingly...

i tried my best to unearth the themes
in the poem that is now:
i wouldn't say lost:
given the scrutiny of c.c.t.v. i'm on a whim
going to guess that i wrote
something so profound:
it was just the choice of words
and how i arranged them
that must have sparked a paranoia theme
in someone monitoring this
website:
Luddite i am:
but there's only so much technological
paranoia you can work with
when you get to talk about algorithms
and search engines with an A.I.
platform: which is not a person...

but what did come to mind is:
mouths...
anuses...
         to me: angels are beings without
mouths...
evidently:
why would angels needs mouths
in order to speak?
surely dogs have mouths...
but does that make them equally intelligent
as humans: who also have mouths:

a mouth is an **** an ****
is a mouth:
why would angels require mouths
in order to have anuses?
a mouth requires an ****:
an **** requires a mouth:
for me: angels have no concept of mouth
or teeth or tongue...

so this whole shabang of god made man
in his image:
well: but if god also created angels:
the man in me says:
you can do away with all that mouth
and subsequently ****:
because you can communicate
telepathically: no?
aren't those the symptoms of schizophrenia
that one hears hallucinations
floating about
like we know electrons don't orbit
there's no planetary oval distinction
that electrons are quanta
i.e. they appear and disappear
in clouds or how intact is obstructive model
for gravity earth wind water fire...
but on the microscopic clarifying of
details: spooks and ghosts of
counter-intuitive measures...

angels have no mouths:
clearly that saves them the need for an ****
since angels can't exactly talk
about eating
or food...
why depict them with wings
for that SPAZZ SPACE X disorientation
all wings: and all mouth:
no!
angels don't have mouths!
if they have mouths and faces
of humans...
then they must have anuses:
clearly an **** requires a mouth
but why would an angelic creature
require an ****?
ergo... an angelic creature doesn't
require a mouth...

oh i'm pretty sure the draft is saved
but i can't unearth it due to
502 bad gateway...

         but it was me in my prime...
comings and goings:
i still don't understand why monotheism did
away with the underlying feat of
stalking humanity:
by the gods: somehow men stopped
gambling
and the gods stopping playing tricks
on humanity:
yes: the all loving god is only the all
loving god with
the face of a tortured poetic cannibal:
this bread my butter this blood my fig
this bread my body this wine my blood:
like... if this isn't: ******* mischief
and bigotry all encompassing
then we are all fools for believing:

this precursor of the Cartesian model
said nothing of what he thought:
but everything that he supposedly was...

i, am, the way...
and by the way...
there's a ******* fork in the road
and i'm calling it a centurions gamble
on the next dealt cards:
because i'll be all ******* Ernest Hemingway
when i say:
men without women
is that quintessential epitome of
behavioral psychology that needs to
be force fed to young males...

how weirdly we behave almost
Siamese ghost twinning to an artifact
of ourselves we thought was lost
but when awakened by the opposite ***
losing marbles while at the same time counting
them...

for some good kofta and creamed up
garlic sauce of a ****
i would be willing to speed up Gonzales
and make it all the way from Mexico City
to the glorious state of Hawaii
to play a little dangling-lay-lee
with my *******?

    angels have no mouths...
why would they need mouths if they
clearly don't need to have anuses...
if angels talk to god then...
oh yeah: the fallen angels have mouths...
clearly they also have anuses...
but the pristine ones don't have mouths:
like god doesn't have two eyes...
and no mouth either:
maybe ***** has two ears
but then again:

this is my returning to ask of god:
but: you're nothing like i am nothing like ape
but you expect me to just hide
the hidden urges of sussing out the Bogart
of telepathy and telekinesis
and metaphysics like we're talking Frank
and Jill and everything's just ******* dandy
because of an Andy?!

Varhol my ***... tonne of baked bean
tins...
                      take another splash at that *****
custard: there are three orientations
on the throne of thrones:

sikam: i'm *******...
sram: i'm *******...
spuszczam: i'm *******...

            if i get to heaven and i find that angels
have mouths...
i'll start looking for nuns without anuses:
why would creatures so pristine
require mouths...
i get the wings... fair enough:
halos... fair enough...
but surely heaven is as frightening
as hell:
hell is more familiar since most of us
manage to already step into it:
rich or poor...
but heaven must be just as frightening
as hell:
and what could possibly be more frightening
than a creature with wings
and all that's worth androgynous:
without a mouth... but still able to speak...
and you can make sense of it: "audibly"...

i don't see the point the depicting
angels with mouths:
since a mouth is a precursor to ****...
but angels don't eat...
eating is a foreign concept in heaven, no?
ergo ******* in heaven is like
the pleasures of ****** in hell
no?
        maybe i'm just ******* childish
or maybe no one has clarified this "problem"
for me or for anyone...

abstract -

a "jew" sitting inside al-musharrafah /
                            al-ka'bah /   al-kāba(h),
    trying to figure out an hebraic aversion
  using kabbalah

Γ
      0       ∞        8

      8                  1         ∞
                                            L

          \  /
            |
                        | - |        \/\/    
                                                       | - |
         _              
       /_ /|
      |_|/

    - narrative -

i knew i should have written this, straight away,
as it conjured itself before me, first
in mind, then in paper...
             but the idiot me decided for a blackbeard
refill...
             washing myself, and then heading
to the supermarket...
                 sweating all the way, and prior to also,
then walking into the supermarket,
opening a fridge-freezer with the frozen
peas, and ice-cream, and sticking my head into
it.
         i should have written this,
   when the original euphoria was there...
           walking back home i realised:
               what the hell does the noted 8, 8, 8
mean now?
                       **** it! i can't remember why
i wrote it, but didn't write an explanation;
      and now i'm bundled up in half-***
bewilderment, figuring out the chicken egg
story of: what came first, the mouth or the ****?
  aha!
              the bellybutton and the umbilical chord...
wait wait...
            that mouth of mother, and into
the **** that's the umbilical chord, and then
into: ****, a foetus' second mouth on the belly...
                  thankfully there's a cut-off point:
foetus' have no anuses...
         which doesn't beg the question,
   as to why they need to be wrapped in diapers...
imagine several weeks constipated in the womb...
you plop out... and bang! **** after ****,
as the foetal **** constricted, finally lets itself
go... and bam! diarrhea!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

          t.b.c. (to be continued...
        i'm sweating like a wild pig and i need
to have a second shower, or something)...

            - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

let's just say that the latin version of the hebraic
meditation is different,
       it focuses, against gematria,
or numerology, which is a bit like pompous
astrology: the whole - it was written in the stars?
well... sailors navigated the seas using stars
   because they thought: the sky's flat...
if the earth isn't flat, then the sky has to be flat,
otherwise how would we navigate from (a) to (b)?

    which is an antithesis to an antithesis
                              that's a prohibition of
palm reading (fortune telling) - yadekha
     (your hand), rather, the concept of yod-ekha,
your י (yod)
   (is that the hebrew version of ego? or simply i?)
   pslam 145:16 -
                             again, a gateway.

resh | he | het | gimel | dalet | lamed | mem | bet.

   so if you do not prescribe palm reading,
   you shouldn't prescribe gematria,
     or reading into letters with the eyes of numbers,
unless of course, you state your cause,
   and perform something akin to astronomy,
meaning: upon the axis of π.

      you open your hand, and then close it,
      as spring clenches its bud, and subsequently
opens it...
                       so do both wither away.

   but try imagining practicing kabbalah in the kaaba...
     _  _
       |        or         \   /
                                |
   as that, which is in the corner of the cube...
   this kabbalistic interpretation of hebrew is tinged
with roman numerals, which is why this is in latin,
rather than hebrew, and for that reason,
    in this system, gematria is a stupid superstition,
like fortune cookies in a chinese restaurant...
   we have moved toward the basics, matchsticks...
in the tetragrammaton alone, there are only:
  | | |, | | |, | | |, | | | |                  13 matchsticks;
ah, indeed, the greeks called that number
jesus and his disciples, or what the romans later said:
the devil's dozen.

      and how many sides does a cube have?
H, H,             or | _ | + | _ | = 6,
                 six on the inside, six on the outside...
but how many corners? 8...
                                    r, h, g, d, l, m, b, h.

of course the matchsticks become problematic,
      or what was chiselled into stone at the senate,
a V (5) for a U...   so no wonder there exists in
naked english such short-hand as l8er...
                                     so much so, of herbaic
with no UU (ω, w), i.e. ו
         ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ (squiggly squiggly)
     w ~ vav (a poor comparison in spelling
      ha-hara... ha... ha... ha-shem);
    and upon the 24th hour, measured right down
to the letter, a year, prior b.c, now ζηρo (zéro
               in polish)... or...
                       ζερo - in english, i.e. zee-ro(h).

and how did loki fool the hebrew god?
        he pulled his ******* back, and pretended
to be circumcised, and it worked like magic contra
   very ancient history, that always remains,
continually, un-announced in modern discussion
with a sensibility that might compete with
   all modern chit-chat in a soup... sorry, soap opera.

      and already, i said it before, do what nazis
did to the *******, but with the star of david...
rotate it... what do you see?
                i see a square carpet, and an open book,
and someone obviously sitting on the carpet
  with the book open.

    and now: for a larger schematic, givten that
the י is already the kaaba, or as i like to call it,
   the lament configuration...
   but oddly enough... there's something more...
  there's also yah.... known by its place in
  the sefirot, as chokhmah...  only second
   from the crown (keter, otherwise known
   colloquially as kippah)...
             and it means wisdom.
  
   indeed, beauty is in the eye of the beholder...
thus standing inside the kaaba, in one of the corners:

(if eve cotended with lilith, then אדאמ   (adam)
  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
| \ צ                              \
|    \                          ­      \
|       \                                \
|          \ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ \
|            |                                |                ­        
|            |                                |         ­                 
|            |                                |­
\          |                                |    
    \       |                                |
       \    |                                |
          \ | _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ו |   (v)
                                              
              would have to have a shodow counter
part, namely:              צדצם‎.
    in latin geometry, and without the skewed
copernican angle... we receive the geometry of Y
  (i.e. yod);
     but i am but a man, who walked into the kaaba
in mecca... and found not a dust's worth
   of attributing the god allah... with the learnings
os the kabbalah;

    and indeed, why is the concept of infinity,
merely a dot, a big bang, a one-dimensional entity?
why is it not three dimensional?
   ah, the fours numbers,           1808...
perhaps four letters instead?

Γ
     ל‎        ∞       8                       (lamed)

     8                  ג‎         ∞              (gimel)
                                          ­L

I do not mourn long Mondays--
Wednesday is gone before I
blink back an astonished Tuesday, and
at twenty-four already
I see my mothers hands sliding
across the page
That same scrawl following tip
of the exigent pen

Nervous mind idly stroking
bitter torments
That which is aggravated swells
inflamed. Like a
canker sore deep in
the inner cheek
The tongue rolling and probing,
absorbed by each sour pain
Carefully plotting little volcanoes across
the slick terrain
They burst like purple pomegranates
pounding spattered cement
on mild fall evenings

So do people sometimes
Through tectonics of the brain
Those which could be minor psychological
blemishes roar to life. Shifting
vast emotional plates
behind a cool gaze

People hurl carelessness at on another
like schoolyard boys
chucking helpless frogs at
jagged stone walls
Ignorant of life's high price
And though horrified-- I
Can not look away.
Eyes bulging, blown out anuses spewing
pale intestines slick with blood-- I
can not look away.
Each giddy chimp, feces
Proudly flung-- I
do not look away.
My heart swollen hungering for
that emptiness called humanity
Mostly pretense, mostly solitude, mostly cruelty,
     All personal gain!
Meanwhile, brothers and sisters,
have you considered the fate
of your everlasting soul?
     I didn't think so

Glassy eyes stare
beseeching from bathroom mirrors
Tear-stained cheeks belie
a quizzical half-smile
I will meet that insecure gaze
promising to seek my own perfect
imperfection
No longer guilt ridden and ashamed
I will hold the reflected stare aloft
with my own true eyes
and I swear--  I
     will not look away

i can't remember the last time i was satisfied with
only drinking one cider and 35cl of whiskey,
i honestly can't... then again i plucked two of my
favourite aphrodisiacs that night...
i beat up the whittle 'ichard before
(aphrodisiac no. 1 - exercise, exertion) cycled
to the brothel... then bought myself a bottle
of cider (aphrodisiac no. 2 - no other alcohol
works that sort of magic, no wine, no whiskey,
certainly not beer: cider...
and for that matter a very specific cider...
merry down cider, with a fox playing a violin
on the etiquette... the label... served in a 75cl
portion... 7.5%... medium dry...
so no...  not Thatcher's... or a Hertfordshire Weston's...
it has to be the Merry Down... probably
because of the portion) and did the victory
lap around the park and the brothel around
Goodmayes station...
obviously i bought 35cl of whiskey before walking
in... inside after we ******... hmm...
******* sets me off so quick... i don't know:
seeing a woman on her knees... from behind...
a bit like watching women in churches on
their knees before certain deeds are done...
i think i'm going to go back to a catholic church
one Sunday and draw out fetishes in my head...
kneeling before a cross... maybe Jesus the ******
would have loved to be nailed to some X cross
and then get ****** off by some Magdalene?
maybe he was into sadomasochism...
    who knows... but ******* sets me off on
an easy path of ******...
at least in the ******* it feels more
like exercise as i'm using the upper part of my body
to arch over a woman... from time to time
lowering myself to kiss her when she shows her tongue
licking her lips: i guess that implies: kiss me...
so i do... or lowering my body to brush noses
with her... press my forehead against hers
or just bite her chin...

is it just me or did the band Priest use certain accents
of Lana Del Rey's Summertime Sadness
in their song Phantom Pain? have a listen...
i think they did... never mind...
aphrodisiac no. 3: music... just listening to some
music you'd like to listen to when *******
fills the mind prior to the act with the act:
Trevor Something: into your heart...

work has transformed me, working with people,
dealing with drunk football fans...
i walked into the brothel: three beauties sitting there...
i never thought i had a thing for plump girls
or girls wearing glasses...
but this third one... the blonde... that lied
about being from Romania when in fact i know
from Michaela that she's Poland looked like:
a frightened doe... her eyes almost teary... her lips
moving as if trying to tell me something...
obviously i picked Michaela: she's going back
to Romania for a month to visit her family...
she worked so hard that she managed to have
a 12 room house with 3 bathrooms...
she's thinking about retiring in a year's time...
setting up a restaurant... i told her i make ****
good mint and chocolate chip ice-cream and i love
looking... who knows... i heard that Romania
is beautiful... and she's from Bucharest...
so... easy access to Ottoman heritage... and Dracula...
who knows... life is sometimes a house
of windows that are opportunities...
the same blonde that:

Khadija... Khadira... Khedra blocked me on WhatsApp
just before she ****** off back to Turkey
for a holiday... yeah... Khedra sent me
a photograph of herself with this girl...
now look at her... a frightened doe...
why did she block me? i don't care...
she was there last night... i asked for her...
but she was bringing back £60 for an extra half
an hour with a man she was already busy with...
we said hello: i kissed her cheek as a greeting...
me and my hardly jealous heart...
but Michaela can do i don't think even Khedra
could... after all... with Michaela it was
first time quick... second time longer...
third time quick... 4th time much longer...
first time? i blame it on the fact that she forgot
to pull back the *******... what sort of uncircumcised man
wants to **** without a circumcision imitation?
i know women prefer the aesthetic of a circumcised
man... but at the same time:
in the old ways... a man would be circumcised...
but the woman would have to pay some compensation...
just look at Islam and Judaism...
not the current American raw deal of circumcised
men... that's not how it works...
circumcise a man and his sometimes need to
pleasure himself makes no sense with no *******...

hardly a joke... it's called the acronym FGM (female
genital mutilation, but it's not called MGM male
genital mutilation?! oh right... all those eunuchs
in harems who were walking ******... because: hardly...
Solomon couldn't **** all his harem...
it would probably take him a whole year
to make the rounds and **** all his concubines)...
so unless he didn't have eunuchs to please his concubines
he had the concubines turn to lesbian acts...
even great kings of old didn't mind other men
******* their women... as long as they didn't impregnate
them...
i'm a modern man... i really don't care who she has
been ******* prior...

me? with Khedra... i know why she blocked me...
but it's only on WhatsApp... i still have her number...
i just have to use the conventional routes...
but she must have received advice from fellow prostitutes...
you're sending him pictures of yourself?
you said you'd gladly have a night with him
in a hotel room for free?! are you a ******* or his
girlfriend?!
mind you: Michaela asked me for extra money
for unprotected ***... Khedra simply gave it up without
any extra cost... to be honest... i don't mind either...
****** off: obviously...
****** on? honey... do you have two spare latex suits
we can wear? oh sure... and a tub of butter
we can both jump into and smear each other
and pretend we're snails... ha... ah ha... terrible joke...

but ever since starting work again: i feel more and more
alive... my confidence has shot through
the roof... two prostitutes sitting opposite me
don't really intimidate me...
one tries to be a smart-***... the other is gearing up
because she knows i'll choose her and the third
looks scared...
hmm... i know that Michaela would ask me to pay
extra to perform oral *** on her...
Khedra? she gave it up for free...
i love seeing a woman who shows her hot-shivers
or ******... not ******* are so ******* oratory
as might be portrayed... hot-shivers of ******...
and, to be honest? ****** vaginas are very...
not tasteless... i've had one once... they sort of stink...
there are not enough lubrication juices...
and i mean from multiple men...
it really doesn't bother me...

thank god none of them ever asked for me to perform
****... pop pornographic culture with all that
**** fixation is ill to me... i can understand
if two Russian soldiers on the front feel like
gagging each other's anuses... but with women?

that was Khedra... freebies... i would otherwise have
to pay for with Michaela...
but Khedra is a slim nymphomaniac...
Michaela is a business minded woman...
and being plump: that's an added asset...
Khedra has her eyes open throughout *******
while Michaela has her eyes closed...
hello: a welcome return to the Unbearable Lightness
of Being by Milan Kundera...
i have to see: everything... i gorge with my eyes...
i'm eating: but i'm not eating...

but i know why i only drank one Merry Down cider
and 35cl of whiskey last night, wrote 'Biggie"
and went to bed...
huh! i have a nickname? that's so endearing...
that's so much better than a girl calling you by your name...
English doesn't really have a diminutive
aspect of language: esp. nouns...
in ****** speech you can create diminutive "concepts"
of words: to make them more endearing...
Matthew, i.e. Mateusz can become Mateuszek...
duck, i.e. kaczka can become kaczuszka
dog, i.e. pies can become piesek
woman, i.e. kobieta can become kobietka...
what's the equivalent in English?
it's "diminutive": but it's not an endearing-diminutive...
it's belittling-diminutive, that's the distinction
between the two languages i own...
little women... you can't actually morph the word
woman to imply woman a "tiny", or, "small"
in an endearing way... only in a belittling way...
thank god i know two languages...
fluently: bilingually...
perhaps a third would be useful if i wished
to travel and start a business... most certainly a knowledge
of Spanish would open a world of opportunities...
obviously i'd settle for German... large enough
territory... but? as a personal psychology basis?
being monolingual would be claustrophobia for me...
or equivalent: therefore...

oh man... it would have been such a mistake if
i just settled for my high-school sweetheart, Promis...
when dating her i went to a friend's birthday
party and was presented with a chance to cheat...
she was much younger than me and eager:
i declined her even though she was already all
over me... it wouldn't have worked...
my father: i'm not my father... mentioned only
two women in his life...
one girl who tried to trick him into becoming
a surrogate father... i.e. not raising his own genes...
and... my mother... but i'm not my father:
i think my parents are freaks... seriously...
it's like monogamy and the swan song was all
about them...
my estranged uncle was a serial polygamist...
he tried a monogamy once: FAIL...
she ended up being a journalistic-wannabe
with an abortion as a notch on her belt...
i learned from my maternal grandfather too...
he was married at the age of 18? 19? but cheated
on my grandmother... he mentioned 3 women
in his life... me? i didn't lose count on purpose...
i lost count on the basis of: and how many different
selves of myself have i found along the way?
i can can't at least 5...

but unlike Khedra with her hot-shivers when i was
performing... eating-oysters on her ****...
there was Michaela who said last night:
look! you're making me dance! and she looked
the happiest girl... she was dancing... lying back...
it wasn't a dance: dance... it wasn't a samba...
she was dancing by wriggling happy on her back
after all that missionary ***...
plus?! i now have a nickname: i'm: Biggie...
and... fair enough: i have more beard envy than
***** envy... even though i've been approached
by guys at work with a similar envy... beards...
apparently i have a perfect beard...

i'm Biggie... now... a few years back i was
KAKASHKA for Ilona: little ****...
it could have worked with Ilona: if i wasn't a ******
and she wasn't a Russian...
Russian pride against Polacks was already
stated by Dostoyevsky demeaning us...
even though i'd be the first to celebrate Russian
isolationistic culture upkeep...

i don't think i could love one woman...
that would be selfish... after all... all the most beautiful
women are either prostitutes or...
actresses in the pornographic industry...
strange how beauty works: it works perfect in nature:
nature wants to showcase itself for the greatest
number of people...
that's a bit like beautiful women...
that's why beautiful women in Islam are an
antithesis of nature's parody...
i heard one Pakistani once tried to teach me
the "mystery" of Islam...
if you owned a jewellery shop... and you had this one
massive sapphire in your shop...
would you want to keep it in the front window
so that anyone could look at it...
huh? he continued: no... you'd keep it hidden
in the back...
                       rrrright... huh?!
he actually didn't mention: so people would ask about?
how could anyone know that you have
a massive ******* sapphire in the back
of your jewellery shop?
point being... why have a jewellery shop
if you're going to be so selfish about what's beautiful?!
you're a ******* jewel merchant or some stingy
****?!
then again: the allure surrounding women is the same
in the west as it is in Islam...
make-up and the NIQAB...
in the west make-up does what a NIQAB does in Islam...
it's the same-****: just a different cover...
i look at a woman in a NIQAB: i'm curious...
i watch a woman heavily overdone with make-up...
i can sometimes say:
there's less paint on a masterpiece than there is
chemical junk on her face to hide her imperfections
that: i might find appealing...
sure... with a NIQAB i can only see the eyes...
but with western standards: i see eyes... exfoliating
in feline fakery... and the rest of her is doubly faked-up...

thank god i'm man... i just need to wash myself
on a regular basis... trim my beard... shave my *****
region and my arm-pits... no chance of me shaving
the hair on my pirate chest and my stomach...
apparently Michaela likes flowing her fingers through
my body hair and teasing my *******...
tonight: i need more whiskey...
not because i'm miserable: i'm happy...
that's why i continue to drink and not get drunk:
i'll feel drunkness when i stop writing and relax...
until then my memory is working overload...
and this is only memory from yesterday...

maybe that's why i don't dream so much...
i don't dream because i'm not seeking escapism
some people seek via imagination...
since their memory faculty has either been eroded
by pedagogy... or? as Bukowski once noted:
some people never go mad: what horrible lives
they must least... a recurrent spontaneity of
"amnesia": or simply looking down on people?
not treating them fairly, lovingly?

life's not difficult: other people make life difficult,
their games of hierarchies...
life's not difficult... other people make life difficult...
and? i could never understand men
who associate cats with lonely modern women...
celebrating dogs...
oh **** me! cats are the best: esp. Maine *****...
then again... maybe i have a spezial cat...
why dogs and men why women and cats
why blue and men why pink and woman?!
who said?
   and who didn't say: cats of Ancient Egypt?
the Pharaohs probably owned cats...
what about Muhammad's favourite cat? Muezza?
who the **** said that cats are efaminating creatures?!
these Bonsai tigers are just as much fun
as dogs... if not more! why? you can have time off
from petting them: when they be themselves
and... no leashes! no muzzle! fickle sleeping and feeding
patterns...
but i agree... there's one negative of cats
that i remember was a great positive having petted
Bella... my Alsatian... well... two...

cat's can't pull a sleigh... with you on it as a toddler...
you can't ride a cat as toddler...
but you can a dog... like a Shetland pony...
you can't be a toddler and put your hand inside
the beast's gob and pull out an imaginary tongue...
and... this is my biggest envy of dog owners...
Sundays at my grandparent's house...
chicken broth... basically an entire poached chicken
in a soup of... choice of vegetable to create
a chicken and vegetable stock?
carrots... root parsley, fresh parsley... celeriac...
baby celery... leek... garlic... burned onions...
the usual seasoning... vermicelli pasta...
but that's the biggest difference between cats and dogs...
i don't know why cats stopped drinking milk...
classically they drank milk...
as a child i remember glowing with glee that i owned
an animal that would eat the leftovers of the food i just
finished... dog are special in that way...
some of the soup wasn't finished...
Bella the Alsatian was whimpering after the leftovers...
she got a bowl... a bountiful bowl...
she loved her chicken broth...
   with the vermicelli... with the vegetables...
and added to the mix? the chicken bones...
my grandfather always bemoaned the fact that me
and my father ate our chicken to the point of biting
off the cartilage off the bones... i went further...
i bit off the heads to get to the juicy-dry marrow...

a different season for a different animal:
i loved dogs for the simple pleasure that they would
eat what you couldn't finish for dinner...
but i love cats for the fact that they behave like
ferns... sorry... houseplants...
you can ignore them from time to time...
they only come up to you when they feel like approaching
you...
the rest of the time you can just ignore them...
but when they love you: it's unlike a dog
waiting for you to equip yourself with a leash...
when they love you: or rather: you're ******* more interesting
than any human prior... they rarely scout for more room...
you've already enlarged their perspective on existence...

perhaps i could be your neurotypical man by
any standards: in the Old Testament style
of breaking away from my father and mother
and chose a wife: i tried it with Promis...
i hated the experience... i have to abandon my mother
and father... in order... to marry you... woman...
and... abandon my mother and father...
in order... to give a **** more about: YOUR... mother
and father?! seriously?! that's a raw ******* deal...
i haven't been raised by my mother from the age
of 6 through to 8...
and by my father from the age of 4 through to 8...
collapse of the Soviet Union:
if it wasn't the brain drain (that came later)
it was a labour shortage in the early 90s...
i don't think i'm clingy... sure... if my parents raised
me throughout those LEGO-years...
i'd be out of the house already: or? no... the cost
of living... what? at least i have intellectual comparisons
with me...
times are changing... i was lucky to be out of
the cosmopolitan game of dating ever since i went
mad aged 21... my whole 20s are a fog...
i woke up mid-30s sort of happy to be simply
alive... i'm happy for that "conundrum"...
i missed so much that was required of me to miss...
i can go to the brothel with a clean conscience
of being able to satisfy prostitutes...

at least we know something personal about Muhammad
that's more than however many wives he had...
a man of his times of his region...
i can't be a judge of that...
but at least he had his favourite cat: and we know
his name: Mu'izza...
like i had a favourite cat of mine:
Darshan... who my Sikh neighbour killed
by poising him because: she offered to take care of...
but couldn't be bothered to clean up his ****
or give him food... easier to **** the poor creature:
make him suffer kidney failure...
i was visiting my grandparents
while my mother and father were holidaying
in the Maldives... two days before they were
supposed to come back... i woke up with a stinking
fear... i phoned them up, i need to go back home!
i'm worried about Darshan...
a silver beast of a Maine ****...
dead... "kidney failure"... i was so stricken
with morbid emotions... after he was cremated
i found a Croquet buggy...
took all the pieces off... strapped a belt
to the handle... walked into a World War I
memorial graveyard...
had a hammer and a chisel with me...
started carving off a piece of grave...
put it on the buggy... dragged it home...
picked up the ashes... started digging a shallow
grave in the garden... buried the poor sod...
then placed the hacked off gravestone above him...
i'm still not speaking to my neighbours...
they're scammers anyway...
that's how Sikhs and other Asians get to flaut
their money on rich weddings and Rolls Royce
limousines... sure sure... i hear you...
they own corner shops and get rich by selling 1p
gummy bear gelatin sweets by the million!
like, ****!
oddly enough... i'm sometimes perched on my windowsill
throughout the night till 4am...
4 break-ins... "break-ins"... and some during mid-day...
******* insurance scammers! SCAMMERS!
i saw jack-****!
no one broke in into their home...
that's how Asians get rich: that's how anyone rich
gets rich... they're not playing by the rules...
thank god i'm willing to make sacrifices...
i don't want to get rich: i don't want scammers
or gold-diggers in my life: i want to build up a natural
filter when it comes to resources!

if there won't be enough women in my life:
i can always test my "fertility" with cognitive ambivalence...
i can always think about more things than most
people are not willing to think about...

after all: Muhammad had a favorite cat... Mu'izza...
since Darshan passed away at the hands of a sadistic
*****... i now have Quarus...
i'm not going to be easily relieved of him:
easily divorced from him...
he has more nicknames than the times i actually utter
his name...
what was the name of the donkey that
brought Jesus to Jerusalem on Palm Sunday?!
no one knows because he had no name...
i'd call him Quizy... Quizy... no... don... key...
REGALO TECLA... or? DON TECLA...
but Jesus didn't give a name to the donkey...
psychopathic, if you ask me:
animals you ride, or pet, to be: nameless...

just maybe: there might be some sympathy for me:
it almost feels like i was there...
when Mel Gibson released that movie of
his: the Passion of the Christ... i cried when i first
heard Aramaic being spoken on screen...
i think i cried throughout the entire movie...
i was so moved that... some other guy in the audience
started crying with me...
maybe it was the music all along...
i'm a sucker for a decent music...

but i just couldn't stomach the raw deal of wedding
a woman: a man is to abandon his own mother
and father... esp. one who wasn't raised by his
mother from the age of 6 through to 8
or by his father through the ages of 4 to 8...
who spent his early developmental years
in a house filled with 20 other immigrant
labour-drain men... for about a two years...
the fact that my father was abandoned by his own
parents: through divorce... i was raieed
by a ***** of a grandmother and an alcoholic
grandfather: i loved them...
but she was such a ***** to the point
oh him pushing her through a glass door
and breaking her hand...
i blocked all of that out... maybe by way of blocking
out several personal memories i have been
given access to access certain historical details...
i question them: unflinchingly...
why didn't Jesus' donkey have a name?
while Muhammad had a favourite cat with a name
like Mu'izzi: i know it's Mu'izza... i prefer Mu'izzi...

my Quarus? a clever cat... i bemoan the fact that
he won't eat my scraps... from dinner...
that's the only great aspect of what Bella the Alsatian
and Axl (the Dobberman) used to be capable of...
they'd eat what man leftover...
i'd call cats vegetarians if i could...

i know that the definite article in Hebrew is HA...
i.e. ha-satan: the-Stanley... the Stanislav...
i forgot to remember what the indefinite article
is in Hebrew... oh... right... there isn't one...
to define someone: definitely is to suppose:
laughing at it in English...

the whiskey flows slow and cold...
my heart it growing slower and colder...
i like it, that way...
Biggie... oh **** me... then again: Michaela does stand
about 5ft2 beside of me... while i'm towering
6ft2 above her... no wonder she picked a nickname:
Biggie for me...
the smaller she is: the plumper she is...
the more endearing she becomes...
you just want to cuddle her...
the more tender her forehead feels and tastes like...
she mentioned: i haven't washed my hair...
i tell her while sniffing it:
it doesn't matter... i washed myself prior to seeing
you... you think i'm going to wash myself
after seeing you? i want your scent to fill my bedroom
with your ****** perfume...
i want to dream of orchids! i want to dream
of lavender! i want to dream...
of a desert and your being the oasis in it!

i love women... but some women are too proud...
too stuck up...
they miss out on a lot of fun *** can be...
can't we just have fun without taking to
the serious business of paying gas bills?!
are we simply things before the altar of the eternals?
can't we spontaneously break the rules
for the eternals to be envious of us?
have we, seriously become so shallow:
so boring, that the gods abandoned us due to the fact
that we became imitating immortal:
their own boringness, manifest, that we stopped
being mortals?!

if i a were an immortal deity, and had to overlook
the modern man? i'd die too!
i'd die from boredom!
i'd die from predictability...
i'd die from looking at mortal men and thinking:
we're the luck?! where's the gamble?!
where's the unpredictability?!
where on earth is the stupidity on earth,
that might make these men take enough chances
to later allow them status of sage?!
everything is being to closely manifested in keeping
a "slave" stock of workers...
no one wants to dare... and if they do want to dare:
it's all for the wrong reasons:
no for reasons akin to: i! i am Spartacus!

people say awful things about slavery...
i wonder... what slave was ever homeless?
what slave was ever left without food, without shelter?!
well **** me: if you're not a self-developed
business man... chances are: sure... you're not a slave...
just someone who earn a wage...
but someone who earns a wage is not someone
who's someone's responsibility
to demand the person bestowing said responsibility
to keep the slave: alive, fed, sheltered...
by simply earning a wage does not imply
my status is better than that of a slave...
is it? IS, IT?!
i just earn a wage... i have to provide food and shelter
for myself... as a slave: and not a wage-earner:
i had to have food and shelter provided for me:
for my services...
i didn't care about money because i was already
given what money would otherwise provide:
or rather, in the ancient realm: wouldn't...
since shelter was inherited by the manor
and food too... from owning farmyards...

i don't think slavery was bad... wage-employment
is far worse... esp. those zero-hour contracts...
no one can tell me that's beneficial to anyone...
zero-hour contracts is worse than slavery...
at least as a slave you had intrinsic value...
obviously disposable...
but as a wager... SLAVE CONTRA WAGER...
you have no instrinsic value:
you only have extrinsic value:
you're doubly disposable...

           like the concern for INFLATION:
the end-product is inflated...
but the manufacturing mechanism isn't...
then there's the deflation aspect of
football clubs increasing the payouts of their
football players... but not decreasing
the price of their tickets to attend a match
or their merchandise: t-shirts etc.!
fair enough: pay the players more...
but at least have the decency to cut down the ticket
prices to see a football match...
or the price of the merchandise...
but no... these clubs either keep it at the same price
or inflate the ticket prices...
but if the players are earning more?
why should the people pay more?!
surely they should be paying less!

SLAVERY wasn't a bad thing... not in my eyes...
i think slavery was a good thing...
you had protection... a SLAVE had more protection
against the peril of a "free" society than a WAGER
will ever have...

what are the chances of me retiring at my grandfather
did? getting a proper state pension,
passing it down my wife after my life,
allowing her last 10 years of life to be lived
in a luxury that only old age might hinder?
ZILCH!
of the people that applied for job i'm currently at....
i seem to be the only "slave": i.e. employee...
the rest are self-employees...
i do my job well because i don't have to:
invoice my presence... i get invoices by someone
else...i trust my "handlers"...
i look at dogs, i look at cats...

who was Proximo to Maximus in the fillm
Gladiator? a mere slave-owner?
really? Maximus was merely a WAGER?
Proximo didn't care about Maximus was more than
a WAGER and more a, commodity?
i'd love to feel like a commodity again...
i'd hate to be treated as a WAGER: as an EARNER...
i think slaves, "slaves" had more monetary rights
than people of our current age...
owning slaves came with responsibilities...
a bit like owning pets these days...
you had to be rich enough...
for one...
you had to clothe them... you had to feed them...
you had to put a roof above their heads...
to be considered a nobleman:
you had to treat them fairly...
these days? none of these rules need to apply...

the system of slavery worked on a decentralised
"bias"...
not on this, current, centralised bias of
the universal WAGE concept....
you're worse than a SLAVE... you're a WAGER...
communism tried to figure this out...
it never came close...
well, it did, for a short period of time...
the sort of period of time where:
drinking whiskey tasted like drinking regurgitated
garlic *****!

it's not working now...
not everyone can be some moon-blessed
entrepreneur... some people are truly allowed
the joy of being allocated the status of PAWN...
rather than BISHOP...
there are people that are like that...

if it was working NOW: it would be working WOW...
people exist for others to be looked up to!
you can't scribble some Darwinistic mantra
and expect people to stick to it!
it's either Darwinism or Christianity...
you can't have both!
there's one alternative... but you're not going
to like Islam...
i don't like Islam... i don't like circumcision...
that's why i'm expecting a 2nd schism
in this grand religion... spear-headed
by the Turks with a bunch of uncircumcised men...

i want whiskey to drip from my beard
while i drink it... and rub it into my chin...
and recall the number of tattoos i ought to have
from rekindling my mind to the past....

no one knows the name of the donkey that took
Jesus to Jerusalem as the fifth: "horseman" of
the Apocalypse toward that fateful Palm Sunday...
but... Muhammad's favourite cat's name is known...
the birth of the Korean script is known via
King Sejong... no one can rob me of this historical presence:
nothing is mythological too...
just easily forgotten...

me? i'm just clearing the path... for something...
more... expedient... more... clarifying...
let's share cats.

Sitting on a couch in lotus position with nothing better to do
Than count the seconds until my legs go numb.

Wondering if fleas crawl into the anuses of humans like they do animals.

This thought disturbs me.
Lingering on my consciousness
That the thought even crosses my mind.

Like mothers putting their babies in the microwave.
Like starving an animal to see how feral they become.
Like voting in an election with really only one candidate.

The wicked deeds that exist in the back of our minds.


My legs are numb.
Maybe it’s time to cut them off.
I want a better looking pair anyway.

it was really only about writing a haiku's worth of words.

a bit like listening to an atheist on the internet,
after spending 2 years reading kant's critique,
to find 3 arguments:
- ontological,
- cosmological argument
-  teleogical-physics...
and they're all refuted by the author as actually
leading to a "proof"...
and then to later find in his work that he simply
believes... or as i will state in my *******-esque
jargon... that he had the same emotional capacity
to comply with a woman in the grand adventure
of life, as i did, or do...
        there's a cheaper word to use to just say
for per se reason other than *****...
        atheism is just that...
                           that thing... really has the emotional
capacity of a gnat... oh look... no silent g...
               so three argument by kant,
all seemingly pointless: because we like kings to
exist and be "delusional" by the concept...
         of a god/s...
                               as to say: when did we stop
in being unable to relate? oh right... when we "got together"...
    fixed sayings, fixed meanings,
          i wish i could have stomached a relationship
with a woman... but then again: i wasn't too bright
to catch-up on being ambiguous...
       well... a woman explained it to me thus,
given the ******* profession...
       man has to be promiscous type
       so a woman can play her role as *amibuity;
no wonder man got bored and started to philosophise /
love of love - you really want to say loaf to loathe
and then see a V pop up...
           or at least that's what he said, when he got
bored of living within the capacity of a refrigerator
and being prompted by some hunt for affection...
spices... teasing, sniffing ashes...
            you never realise that the woman is an
ambiguity, and that man the promiscuity...
take that poetry... rhyme debukt... words that could
be echo... lying side by side.
   too late, doing the elvis aha or ahum or
ahahahum and then having a shower -
so he really did debunk the french theory of
the english stiff upper-lip?          

alternatively, some Pollockesque *******.

from kant giving his three arguments
for even trying to prove god to exist:
- ontological, for, but rather from
the basis of how you behave...
- the cosmological argument ...
- physico-teleogical (fizyko-teologicznego)
   / teleogical-physics...
oh look... a θ particle... must be sub-atomic
physics... since why wouldn't i
make the spelling mistake of writing teological?
   must be θeology... it's that crux
of digested syllables: tele- -ogical / te- -leo -g...
            te- -le- -ology?
tell a leo he's an aquarius?

and he thus concludes in his mini-novel
of easy reading session in
transcendental methodology
that all the three tiers of arguments are
without a scientific argument to be even
attempted...
    it's not that the result might be unproven,
or left like a barren desert
that asks for as much rain, as it does for hope...
he just argues that the three categories of
the mode of question attempted are deviod of
   any final overcoming sigh or sight to marvel at,
and states that the questions prefigure
a complete negation of asking them, in the first place,
what heidegger later calls: a throwing
into, or: a happening - that's trully necessary,
with any arguments as derelict houses;

or is that just in english, the germanic prefix
self-, that later ends up nothing but a cartwheel?
that's how they put it: self-help,
self-employment... self-confidence...
      what's that? motivation for a cyborg?

those are hefty things to consider,
given they are structured a bit like itemising
an atom: electrons (ontology) i.e.
in high-school they tell you electrons have
orbits, at university they tell you they are
clouds... then you sorta lose the plot
when they tell you that they don't behave
like clear units, but like quanta...
like life and death: now you see me, now you don't
type of "trick"...

thus

cruxing on 1, or working from 1...
of what can be said of the unison...
clearly i am not speaking unison, given that i'm working from
a bias of solitude... is it all conforming to a togetherness,
or is it just moving in the many diadem directions
looking awkward when dancing?

it doesn't matter: the language written when drinking
and fasting...

         atheism, having reached the end of kant's
critique, simply tells me of the emotional content of a person,
it's nothing too complicated,
                  it's an emotive construct,
   you have different emotional labyrinths for atheists
as you have for theists...
            some do things openly, lend themselves to
submission... others protest against such
juxtaposition of the body... since they are not gratifying
the "sacrifice" of women, who make themselves
prostate before the ritual...
   sound about right?
                       it must sound much much simpler:
if there was no phallus for a woman to prostate herself
there would be no god for man to do likewise...
          well... wouldn't you think that? esp. these
days with the pronoun war, the unearthing of the nag
hammadi library and it's obvious silent insolence
to be spread and firmly established...
the fact that some people actually own libraries
in their own personal space... and feminism?
    
let's call it a symbiosis...
   the difference between an atheist and a theist / deist
(by now, the close proximity of saying the two
words makes no sense, given the thesaurus and synonyms) -
at best, i can only see an atheist as someone
with an emotional construct that cannot accommodate a woman,
paradoxal: given kant...
who had the emotional capacity to be a theist,
but then able to translate it into having a spouse...

if it really is a case of / for atheism
the person will not speak plain sprechen...
    he will provide "looking behind the scenes"
of something akin to autism, the posh word is actually
all theory based: solipsism...

i really don't think actual atheists have the emotional
capacity to inscribe into their heart a word from a woman,
to have a heart capable for a woman's bloated
over-burdening O and A in biography.

atheism (a-      -the              and no ism)
   is like living with the left eye being unable to synchronise
with your right eye... it's not a case of being without
god... it's being without a woman...
                   a woman is like gravity,
it orientates a man, makes him do things...
            a woman is but gravity,
                           you fall into place as a man,

i don't know how much kant too pleasure from the feelings
he had with that she-devil he invented up there,
in the celestial library of licking out anuses...
   there really isn't a better way to probe the matter...
not after i spent such a long time

reading his three-tier argument, to only be rewarded with
the fact that he still said, at the end of it:
i believe.
                 who does that to a man?
           someone who will later laugh and say:
better you invested your time in some darling Clemency,
or June, or something that might be of use...
something that might make you sing akin to eric
clapton: wonderful tonight...
      it would actually help doing what i do if
i didn't have an artistic transcendentalism to back the argument
up with... testing the nerve and the part of me that
likes going to the toilet gym for a bit of sitting yoga...
alas... it's not there...

  the bane of living in england in the 21st century
compared to living in poland in the 20th century...
men went to the army for 3 compulsory years
  after graduating from school aged 21... or 19...
anyway... later than in current england, when you can
******* aged 16...
                 what a mistake to have entered university...
i'll never stop slapping myself for having
made such a mistake...
      
as of those who believe in gods, we also believe
     in being titans: basically at war with ourselves;
having written that, i'm going to dread having
to reread the rest i wrote, for typos in the excess of being
drunk.... and actually listening to eric clapton...
ugh! what's that word? that americanism?!
it's so nasal i don't even know how to spell it:
poodle / coo d and the plural e? sounds like ease,
or thereabouts.

you can read heidegger's ii-vi ponderings and read into:
           the death of the university -
               which is what is exactly happeing
right now...
              how wonderous the dynamic of
jealousy -
    i remember being at u.c.l. - "studying" history -
to be honest i spent about 6 hours a week
on the course - the rest of the time i could hold
down a roofing job -
                       3rd year chemistry
at edinburgh? 30 hours of laboratory work -
                            including theory lectures and secondary
lectures, like: sociology, computing; french (?!) -
                 but at u.c.l. there was this guy from essex...
and the birmingham students didn't like
      one of the home counties accents -
              they said in passing: we'll crucify you...
birmingham? no river no flow people
                 dictating the rules of a capital city?
               ***** please... this guy comes from essex
and wants to get a history degree:
and you're shoving a diacritical bias against him?
how about going back to the canals, where you rats belong?
   but they did that to the poor guy...
   he talked quasi-cockney
                 in the essex scheme of things, and they
disciminated against him, just because of the way he talked...
i knew one guy from Derby express the same
sentiment about someone lecturing on physics in
               a Glaswegian diacritical idiosyncrasy -
for ****'s sake! a scot taught me how to speak
english by avoiding learning grammar!
                                prof. jordan peterson?
great guy... i wish there were more of them...
                   my leftist background?
                            well... if you didn't **** around with
poland as part of the warsaw pact era... would i be here?
                                 huh?
                    ukranian smugglers in warsaw -
                            it's like the commonwealth never died...
Jeremia Wiśniowiecki: the "other" Vlad -
        scurge on the cossacks -
                    shoved a thousand toothpick's worth
of timber up their anuses, and they were like:
   well... now it matters.
                        but it's so sad to see the university dying...
back when i was studying you could get
   a canadian lesbian understand your position
on the genius of napoleon in essay form, in a history
seminar...
                                those, were, the days when
such a thing was plausible...
                   i'm nt kidding, a canadian lesbian could
mark your essay with a covert appreciation
            of Napoleon's genius in military affairs...
but that's like, what 2006?
                 what year is it? 2017... sorry! you missed
the train!
                     last night i had a nose-bleed
(perhaps due to the excessive drinking?) -
                                   but that didn't stop me from
drinking today...
               now imagine how much i drink
                       and how i respect my parents that
they still allow me to live with them...
                         can you imagine it?
          no? not quiet?
                                 come here... let me show you
what sort of drunk you have to be,
               how self-disciplined you have to be to be drunk
every day, with about 1 litre's worth of *** or whiskey
or *****... and at the same time: be cultivated in
           civilised conduct of: let's not touch...
  you do your ****, i'll do mine.
                                                 oh i did invoke
a plead for a council flat...     some ***** who ******
20 arabs and had 2 kids in the baggage got it before
i could... just a stated example...
                                with regards to some people
i just go: are these people talking?! i'm sorry, i can't hear them;
                    speak... a... little... bit... louder!
funny thing is: we're speaking the same language
         but i'm finding that they're speaking quasi-Catalan.

A girl wheeling around in a wheel chair is special because she can't
walk, just as a mute model's quietly **** because the **** can't talk

yet, in spite of Clint Howard's banana-stealing bend, Ben loved him
like ****-deficit babe Barbie Roberts loved no-ball-&-**** doll Ken
in his humpless, stumpless, ****-strapless, crapped-out-big-bear den
where he confused suddenness for quickness frequently if not often
as he spun suddenly & quickly & frequently again in his pine coffin
that he had filled with wild kangaroo anuses from Australia to quell
& to soften his pine box bed for the rotten dead ***** he'd be boffin'
& to soften the casket for Botox-swollen hoes whom he'd be boffin'
& to soften his pine bed for crapped-out ****** who wanted boffin'
Judgement day's soon from Koestler's Darkness at Noon pairin' Pat
Boone & junior loon goon, martyr Martin Luther King as that ****
who Niven hadn't hunted in a racoon hunt in The Moon's a Balloon
in which no hog-slop cop bought at a profitable loss a fiery bassoon
played by a musically-deft & sexily-thrilling, heart-donating baboon
that sings old-world chimp songs that Sinatra could warble & croon
to Reeve's Eastern Express, jumpin' badly to 1 magickal faerie tune
After harvesting a crop of bee drops I stop to deposit top money for
fake honey on Lake Sunny as sheep hop over a chop steak of bunny
Once filthy rednecks become your next-door neighbors, through the
course of their daily redneck labors, you will be startled by periodic
explosions, shotgun blasts, back fires, dope raids & Samurai sabers
& blue-hued babies of infantile ages in post-born stages confined to
****** chimpanzee zoo cages like Tibetan sages given to outrageous
whinin' outrages, browner than what a buck-deer-pelt-shade beige is
Don't you remember that when we were in love with pink hog meat
we'd sit on torn seats at Burger King to chew dill pickled pigs' feet?
I don't care about your various burial plots & factor K, your antique
drugs from F.D.A., or why my ******* curl up on a wintry day
I don't care about your various blood clots & factor K, your antique  
stock from T.W.A., the way your ******* curl on a sunless day
I care a lot about these hairy mud smocks & vitamin K, old, ancient
bonds from N.B.A. + why beef **** curtains rarely wilt on Sunday
or promoting P.G.A.'s role in making **** drapes droop on Monday
after Mecca town's Eddie Mekka sought Shirley, sold & bought her
in the eternal holy city of righteous step-daughter ******, slaughter
as it slept beneath Laverne's saucy danglers where Eddie caught her
on the 3rd match that fused **** Cheney's N.A.T.O. cannon fodder
before Reeve took a head-first decapitation off a mudder or a trotter
or a fishnet stocking, a can of Crisco, a purse or a scrumptious otter
that totters where Caylee Anthony should never be allowed to totter
whilst Casey Anthony maintains the rotted, purple corpse is not her
as the toddler died of misadventure, meanin' mother hadn't shot her

“I can't **** in anger!” Proclaimed the beautiful beauty queen whom I'd made angry. ~ “I didn't mean it! My God, I swear to all things holy I didn't mean it!” I confessed. ~ “Really?” She asked. “You're not just saying that?” ~ “I'm absolutely on the level,” I assured her with a sincere sincerity that was so Biblically pious, in its piety, that it scared me.

We are, we really are headed for hell
Whether its a fiery pit or a prison cell
We are not free, we will mot lead
We will wake up failing, incontinent, and weak
Unable to change a thing
Angry and deranged, restrained and detained.
Mismanaged and feeling plagued
In disdain, major pain
Meanwhile we refrain from doing anything about it
We sit back, **** it in and remain in a cage
We are tainted at point black period,
We are jaded from feeling inferior natured,
We are unique, geniuses
with mars, penises
******, venuses
Universal Uranus anuses
Hated, degretated, segregated, underrated.
Cursed with little patience

i'm having trouble comprehending any sort
of dimensional-realism of what it is
that constitutes happiness...
it's a strangely vague concept:
as vague as my assumption that it can begin
to be comprehended within the imposed
coagulation of meaning(s), such as:
dimensional-realism...
happiness is just that for me: dimensional-realism:
it's beyond fleeting:
it's something that isn't a thing or a some of
a thing: but a summation: a disgruntled
summation:
happiness to me is what makes life
unbearably see-through... mortal:
debasing: too much of a struggle for this:
cynic: because i can at least confine myself
to the motion of thought that cynical:
pessimism is nowhere near the antonym of:
prior stated...
and... since i find no despair in melancholy:
there's a budging virility in a sadness that's
not sadness: in a piquant fermentation process:
because that's what melancholy is:
aside from the fact that it can also imply
being overtly sensitive to the world's affairs:
melancholy for me: is a side-project
of the empathy-sympathy dilemma...
you start to understand this condition without
having attempts and failed trials of feeling
this bummed out: because the sky is just
hanging by a thread and that's just that:
a sadness can at least drown you:
you can be dragged to the depths of despair:
aside from all the neurological circumstances
of the constituent parts of pain:
at least pain is real... but sadness isn't real:
it's metaphysical...
            so... after the physics of this...
at least sadness can drown you:
what's more important is trying to authenticate
it rather than succumb to the numbing:
when sadness drowns you:
numbing keeps you afloat...
in limbo: buoyant...
                                  like a sick joke from
the advances of extracting anesthetic from cloves...
ha... the experimental medicine of
psychiatric-pharmacology:
said the ego to serotonin and the likes:
i vill muster the ages and thought machines
of telepathic magic and make these pills
regenerate my tempers: my humors...
my willynilly the world is ******* silly...
it truly is a wonder to acknowledge that sanity
is judged on the basis of solipsism...
to me that's what sanity is: solipsism...
the moment that solipsism is undermined...
the whole world goes to ****:
other people exist: and you affect people:
who knows what the effects of that are on
the return... but sanity is just that:
a closed off world of the individual
who comes and goes from what established
culture and civilization in the abstract
to something functioning: like a bus timetable,
like someone who fixes bicycles...
like a baker a butcher...
maybe i'm just in the wrong line of profession...
maybe i'm interacting with people too much
and i need a breather...

now: whether i ****** up intentionally
while managing my cohort or not:
i'm about right in my estimate:
yeah: it must have been about 100 souls...
quadrant manager of the east
blue zone...
this is not some professional escapism
this isn't professionalism antics to scrutinize:
but i've been watching from the bottom up:
no one really told me there was
the vendor sign in
the stadium sign in
and the positional sign in:
i should have known that already:
so i ****** up...
i was mock signing everyone in...
keeping the tally on the numbers:
at least i got that right...
but then the W.I.S.E. agency rep came
up to me: there's been a glitch in the system:
no one has been signed in...
o.k.: i pulled out the PDA and the first thing
i noted was: what alphabet is this?
Armenian or Georgian?
besides the point: i'm not trying to argue:
but how can i rectify this: RECTIFY:
i actually used that word: which felt sort of weird...
because it was more than courteous
and at least the sort of word to use
to weaponize when making a ****...
so i heard the reply:
you will have to somehow scan them all
in...
****... they're all in position and the crowd
has started to come through the turnstiles...
well: if i have 6 supervisors under my wing...
right... yeah: sure... no problem:
i'll sort it out...
went to each supervisor and asked them
to collect the ID cards...
danced through the gymnastic of how to
look less colt and ****** at the same time...
did i manage to keep my head
on my neck and laugh at the guillotine of smiles:
because this work is a work
of buckles: who can buckle who
who can make someone else look less competent:
but the funny side of this story is that:
MEA CUL>PA:
i was the one the blame...
and isn't that the best learning curve?!
isn't it?!

KA-SI-AH... KASIA...
it's a brand of cooking margarine...
but i... do we need the dot hovering
above the iota when you have ś?
that's not SH but c'c'ould be:
no...
               Katherine... Kasia is a diminutive
version in the tongue i originate from:
like Matt is ugly to Matthew because
there's the door mat wipe your feet on it:
but Matti: ah... rings a bells... almost chimes
because i know the extension of my name:
proper: is Matisyahu...

śιč: which implies a gathering of
the Zaporozhian: Ż to gather the H in that word:
like: DZIDA: KULT und: FABRYKA
MEDIÓW...
in this blistering Augustus heat my mother
decides to bake cookies...
who's the sanity protagonist in this world
and who's the sanity narrator?
evidently i'm just the flimsy attache...
i get to spew one poem after another
treating each one with all the wipe-my-***
affection of reading a newspaper...

the biggest problem in my area i was managing?
a faulty lock:
on a turnstile door:
later the supervisor... Rebecca: Rebeccalla?
Italian? French? Romanian?
well: i was the magic locksmith by the end
of it: i fiddled with that door like
magic like i heard back my own
compliment to letters
via that association i made
through:

I / O + Φ = Θ + Ω

pata-physician hey presto!
pata-?
    oh... reference to Alfred Jarry:
that midge: midgit: lilly-putian:
on a bicycle: loved fishing on the Seine...
took a stab at the Polish Lack-Lands of
a king of England, some John...
so...

but if it worked with letters:
it could certainly work with actual artifacts
of use...
like keys and keyholes and
doors:
and by god if we're going to stamp
out the vampire allure of psychopathy
and scrutinize *******:
those two deviations are the first to go:
last are the intelligent alcoholics
who have a thirst for: whoops and
daisies...
but given it's only 20:00 hours
it's a long way to go until 22:00 hours...
i ****** up... clearly:
but i never envisioned that sort
of sign-out dynamic:
the company rep returned and gave her
little pep talk:
i was still engaging in a schizophrenia of sorts
with the radio:
but the INDIA call signs were busy elsewhere
i wasn't even asking permission to sign out these
100...
but how endearingly they lined up:
no squabble about who comes first and
who comes last:
i was was the first and the last: period:
de facto...

what trouble did we have?
oh, when you see a drunk woman in that
state: where she's completely lost
the tact of maneuvering: i wouldn't call it an art
at that point:
but that's how trouble starts:
misjudging the mood of the crowd:
you eject a woman in her state:
but she's compliant...
you eject her even though she's consciously-unconscious:
semi: not trying to come onto you:
so you're basically brokering with a child...
you start with that sort of ejection:
all hell goes goose-loose...
so?
you have to contain it... mitigate... maintain
a Martini smooth coercion...
stirred: not shaken...
get that ******* cauldron of people round round
right round! until you get that
cannibalistic mud of a sauce of *****
and **** and blood!

a good proportion of Manchester came to London...
maybe i have some ****** allure
i'm not excavating for my own personal
benefits...
for not benefit of the Olympics being
a welcome distraction...
once you return back to less of the utopian
day-dream and come back
to each society and the atomized man
and the tribal frenzy of sport as allegiance
to intra-national deflection of coincidences...
how is it that Arsenal and Millwall are
not having a derby, somehow Arsenral
and the Ids are?
       didn't Arsenal originate south of the Thames
in Woolich Woolitch: ******* don't *******
bother correcting me on the spelling:
WOOLWICH!

that still doesn't mean i'm going to
relax and laugh:
took my viking road-bicycle for one
last honor ride through Rise Park suburbia:
a ****** deal: couldn't possibly part with it:
but i did...
i couldn't leave it on a dumpster heap:
maybe someone might want to fix it up:
but as i rode it: crank crank... spill: ugh:
enough onomatopoeia(s) to gratify
bad ***...
yes, Joseph: my grandfather bought it for
me:
then i recounted the story:
but it's not like i left a dog half dangling
on a noose on a tree in a forest
slowly suffocating: it would have been cleaner
humane: to have simply slit the dog's throat
rather than left it semi-dangling on a tree:
sadistic ******* creatures...
who?                  who?!                         us!
for all that show of pretend in how
we organize each other:
what best shows is how disorganized we tend
to be:
this creature of monstrosity of the safe haven
of individuation of the western capsized boat
of thrills...
how serious is any manner of seriousness
going to become:
when i sober up i'll let you or whoever is listening
know:
hardly: since the ontology of man
has no potential for change
ever since Christ or the poetry of T. S. Elliot...
defeatist: no...
better to accept the fundamental poise:
this is what we are:
and we are never going to change:
there might be some glitches in our behavior:
but: safe to say:
if we have enough to eat and enough
to **** and enough to spew...
then all is ******* dandy...
           Darwinism didn't help given that once
there was the ordained formality of
the abstract of man:
now there's man looking at the anuses
of tapeworms and the mouths of chimpanzees
thinking about his psychology as imitations
dilemma...
ooh... the pressure for thinking is just ripe:
just enough: all it takes is just... one... more...
squeeze!

nacht! mein kalt! (pips and cult of shrining *******)
                        (night... my calm!)
esp. watching Tan
beat Serena Venus
at Wimbledon... the former just played
better tennis...  to hell with the crowd...
Tan reinvented tennis...
i was a huge fan of playing
squash... i loved the warm-up periods
where you had to oosh...
yeah: oosh... usher in
the right sort of temp.
for the rubber ball...
          she was... Tan: spinning the ***** like a
Shane Ward...
    it was lovely to watch...
in the end: force x **** didn't pay
off for the Williams' end of an era
match...
   *******... just be a mum...
    i clearly imply: thank you...
but... come on...
      joking aside...
looking at her husband...
you might be left wondering...
for the egoism of massive Africa-American
boyos of the massive ******* persuasion types...
are... with the blonde ******...
while Serena Williams gets to mother
the ***** of a... soy-boy...
wow!
       you look at that...
you try to "reiterate": you can be suddenly
squashed in the diagnosis of: "schizophrenic"...
point being: THERE'S NO REALITY...
it's all make believe...
the higher you are up the food chain
the more rigour-stance you exfoliate...

i like the taste of ***** *****...
i love eating ***** *****...
i also like eating eggs...
     i love sniffing anuses...
i love eating eggs like they're abortions...
i also like *******...
******* genocides into the loo...
problem?!
  my body! my choice!
i do about 3 genocides in a day...
problem?!
      are we going to, have... a... problem?!

because how ever many times i wished
to be a father and have the mother to / for my children...
****... it... let's forget it...
Africa / Asia can keep up with Darwinism...
white people can **** popsicles
of yellow Zappa ice...

i'm not even white... i'm universally pink when
bruised...
morbid fake... copper-neck pristine when
sun-tanning...
          American ******* ******* and their
racial profiling bull-*******-****!
you come round England one more ******* time...
i swear i'll throw imaginative acid on your face
to turn you into albinos...

i hate your graffiti grammar!
say what? you heard me...
I... HATE... YOUR... GRAFFITI... GRAMMAR...
you sound *******... urban... sure:
but... RE-TAR-ED...
slow... you know what slow sounds like?
you sound slow...
and i hate the H'american accent...
no... no money in this ******* lovely world
will ever bring me to kneel before
the people of this sordid Empire...

i drink: i'm an uninhibited fire hazard of speech...
while some drink and lose focus:
i drink and gain some...
FREE-DOM! WILLS the WALLACE!
WALLS-AH!
you seriously can't do it any other
******* way...
people are best preserved when they
don't listen...
                         n'est c'est pas?!
      
who the **** needs to stress intelligence
when it comes to crowds?!
keep 'em dump... keep 'em shallow...
keep 'em: "hippy"... idiotically happy...
und der nacht werden tragen die Überreste...

das ist!
     auf wiedersehen!
                                 hallo neu-unglück!
mein neu du.

i don't get me... i woke up with a massive ******
****** into me face...
i get it... i get it... i like performing oral
*** on women...
i like the idea: it's non-edible...
i could be slurping on oysters...
i could be worried about tapeworms...
what else, could i be worried about?
old men that finally decided to write some poetry
because the prose train left a long time
ago?!
   you tell me...
    i just have this image in my head...
i'm slurping... i'm being sloppy...
as you do: with any available *******...
flowers are in bloom...
because the tender parts of the ****** are
at the top...
the... horrid parts... the impregnating parts
are down below...
implying fingers need to be used:
for insertion purposes...
       i have a broken "car":
i have an unfulfilled woman...
come on! come on! i need oil! i need
lubrication! what are you going to give me?!
tell me! tell me!
i don't mind slobbering:
teasing her **** with my nose...
no problem... give me more!
i need more!
i can **** all day and all night!
i can rotate my tongue with
all the anti-Copernican inventions!
more! more! more!"

no... fatherhood
or marriage is not on the cards for me...
i want to understand the rules
of playing Bridge...
if i were single for the many years
i've been single...
could i... would i... have been able?
to enjoy... the sort of diet of music
i allowed myself to ingest?!
truthfully?! no... i don't think so...

well then... thanks for the promise
of children...
but... this unearthed discovery of music
sort of overpowers me
in making "compensations"...
i still wake up with a hard-on
thinking up performing oral
*** on prostitutes...
not vegans... ahem... sorry....
   vegans are the new virgins?!

i wake up and think about... "think":
imagine... licking out anuses...
i'm sitting pretty...
sort of not pretty...
nonetheless discreetly: affirming my
unabashed sternness
of being: unmoved...
                 sure... move me...
move god...

     tell autumn to precede summer!
stones are stones...
mountains raise mountains...
seas are confused by rivers...
butterflies will never be as difficult
as moths...
      death is a riddle that life has
to be lived by effort: to a ****...
            everything lyrical best be im Deutsche...
or?! Adolph sings! ah ha...

   ha ha...

the clean house: the empty house...
the living dead... the dead supposedly living...
such are people...
            they're sort of morbid:
living... amongst them...
            i don't want to live in fear of life...
what's the point?!
            may i cite?!
die sooner! die sooner! die now! die now!

oh! the *** is an absolute feast!
i love *******!
i don't understand why monotheism abhors
the ******* in males!
can... anyone explain?
why does Judaism and Islam
abhor the ******* in male genitals?!
please...
  i just love suckling on the female genital *******...
i will: bring: your... gods... to... kneel!
or i will eradicate your
imbeciles of a supposed "people"...
i will devour with a pork's snout!

please please... remind me...
why do i enjoy performing oral *** on a woman...
she still has all the uncircumcised *******
on her ******...

this ******* PORKIE-PIE is going
to FEED! i'm going to feed off female genitals...
because i don't understand the secular
contract bound by American men
and their conscription toward being
consecrated on the altar of anti-kippah
and anti-niqab of circumcision...

       this pederasty of a deity is going to end!
this matriarchal deity of the Hebrews
and the Arabs is going to end here!
circumcise pigeons! cut off their wings!
this monotheistic god of women
is a horrible abomination!
she re-conjured him with her fable of
Frankenstein!

               darling... please die!
the sooner you die the sooner i might imagine
living for about 10 years...
before...
what bargain?! you keep your *******
while i'm robbed of it?!
thankfully i haven't been robbed...
hence?! i'm neither Jew nor Arab...
good!
        alles gut!
          which is why i enjoy eating out a ****!

these monotheistic gods will have to ****
at my "missing" *******...
while i eat out the vaginas
of prostitutes!
no wonder... inbreeding... low IQ...
sure... we need people to do deeds we
otherwise would not do...
no wonder we don't have any friends...
i don't have friends for the simple reason
that: i really don't have anything
to talk about to anyone....

oops... times are a bargain.

twenty four caprices of lording fire--
a violin grabbing the horsehair of a bow.
brutal angulations, the muteness of
hollowed out release--keen to its own ear.
then multiplying fingers plucking at strings, as
if deviously imposing a riddle.
the karma sutra of incubi & succubi.
the idle thoughts of their prince, supping at
a decomposed apple--its tiny anuses sliding
out seeds.
while he looks up in ejaculatory boredom--
unable to live it way down.

Our butts burned like fiery fire crackers & Walmart **** whackers
as I ****** your rough ******* like I was with the Green Bay Packers
Your brown, sick **** was wide-stretched, hairy & forgiving 'cause
it was as a Tijuana-pimped ***** that you made a lot-lizard's living
with Nona Hendryx before your strung-back nads started shriveling
like '68 Warsaw Pact Czechoslovakian Poles bracin' for wind stress
with Molotov cocktails, shot guns, tire tools & chock block wedges
Bruce Jenner ***** like a she & his *** pride is testing A.I.D.S.-free
Bruce Jenner ***** like a she & his **** pride is bein' A.I.D.S.-free
Gay Bruce Jenner screws like a bee while he ****-dives H.I.V.-free
Bruce Jenner ***** like he's a she & his gay pride is livin' V.D.-free
I had pig-meat *** with Talia Shire after she threw a hog on the fire
I mailed pig-rectums to Talia Shire after she threw a hog on the fire
I stole 55 pig-anuses from Talia Shire as she tossed hogs on my fire
Bruce Jenner got knocked up man-free & so his new baby'll make 3
in a loony bin where trans-nationals make pan-nationalism their key
to ******* a ready posit into a Marxistical diktat, dictum or decree
to mixing a staid, functional fact with a Marxologically-fatal decree
I was clinically dead when I quit breathing my fat Lizzy Taylor thin
with all my blood bled out from a koala bear attack that I didn't win

Compulsive liars masquerade as aspiring messiahs



Bleeding their anuses dry of spiritual fabrications



Seducing the congregation into recollecting precarious scriptures



Targeting thousands of wallets to gain laudatory paychecks





Eradicating the commandments in their forlorn Bibles



As they gaze at the remarkably hollow skylines



Visions hazed by pecuniary benefit



Hearts lavished within a swamp of prolific avarice





Deliberately they scream ghost written sentences



Composed by the anonymous hands of the seven deadly sins



Yet they study and teach it as if it radiates truth



And these fools sing, dance and praise with no source of proof





In no way, shape or form are you spreading the

blessing



Marketing Jesus's memory as a get rich quick scheme



Offerings may circulate but never reach their destiny



Instead they fund your epicurean lifestyle





You swear with fraudulent passion that you care for the suffering



I say it's all just a front to protect your precious image



Another pretentious publicity stunt to elevate your ego



Suckering new members into your narcissistic precinct





I feel blithest to not be obliged to tithe



For the tithes help nobody but yourself



So why waste my wages paying your mortgage?



When I could invest in something of richer value?

I was 1,315,000 miles high up in Hormone Heaven when I said that
you had saucy, **** hormones but I never did mean it & I don't like
you anymore 'cause 1 of your hormones ain't too **** after I seen it
I'll **** the big pig who gave my **** ******, the *******! I'll **** the
dog who gave my ***** chlamydia, even if it's gay Dennis Hastert!
Don’t tell me **** about anything while I'm wolfin' dog turds unless
you got pus slimier than the maggot-rich anuses of filthy wren birds

Streetwalkers cackle softly



In the shadows of fear



Crippled assassins aim yet, misfire



As the barrels scream off





Into the sweaty swamps



That comprise their genitals



Now as I walk down the highway



A thousand distraught eyes gawk





And like fire they fiercely devour my flesh



Lacing the tissues with a searing tinge of death



Their virulent words no more than merely one syllable



******* fascinating colors akin to the aurora borealis





As swiftly they saunter off into the midnight sky



Soaring beyond the moon, making love to the stars



My eyes had never before witnessed such a tragedy



A tragedy so freakishly mesmerizing to the human eye





Knives drive angrily from the anuses



Of these vile creatures



Roaring deliberate echoes of sinful songs



To raze innocence





Opaque as the ****** of an eclipse,



They ******* to anguish



While intoxicated by the drunken memories



Of traumatic childhoods





The happy hour appears as the knives



****** blood upon ****** flesh



Vomiting up every sour ache of intense hate



That plagues their hearts





The avenue to freedom will draw



A dreadful sacrifice of time and patience



It will spawn mannequins to mimic



the choreography of every move we make





The ultimate battle has



Dawned across the horizon



Guard your loved ones



For havoc will soon arise

I had pig-meat *** with Talia Shire after she threw a hog on the fire
I mailed pig-rectums to Talia Shire after she threw a hog on the fire
I stole 55 pig-anuses from Talia Shire as she tossed hogs on my fire

I was 1,315,000 miles high up in Hormone Heaven when I said that
you had saucy, **** hormones but I never did mean it & I don't like
you anymore 'cause 1 of your hormones ain't too **** after I seen it
I'll **** the big pig who gave my **** ******, the *******! I'll **** the
dog who gave my ***** chlamydia, even if it's gay Dennis Hastert!
Don’t tell me **** about anything while I'm wolfin' dog turds unless
you got pus slimier than the maggot-rich anuses of filthy wren birds

Don’t tell me **** about anything while I'm wolfin' dog turds unless
you got pus slimier than the maggot-rich anuses of filthy wren birds