Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP thinking you are superior.
STOP believing you are entitled.
STOP acting in ways that are unfair.
STOP executing in ways that destroy, in ways that ****, in ways that harm.
STOP dominating ruthlessly.
STOP being threatened by a faith growing the fastest in the world, a faith apart of your history.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP the madness.
STOP the evilness.
STOP hiding behind lands with money and power.
STOP partnering with men dressed in thobes on thrones drenched in oil.
STOP being a thief - taking things that don't belong to you, occupying places that aren't yours.
STOP the ego.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

STOP discriminating.
STOP hating.
STOP colonizing.
STOP cozing up with missionaries who divide Muslims, who **** Muslims and innocent others.
STOP listening to your loud-mouth desire to control and start listening to the calm, just voice of your God.
STOP being the bully of the world.

Here you go again.

Confiscating another House of Allah's. In a precious land. In a historical place.

When will you man up. When will you assess your arrogance of the past and your arrogance of the present and STOP.

When Muslims and others begin to think.
When Muslims and others aren't afraid to think.
When Muslims and others individually and collectively don't fear speaking up.
When Muslim lands with Muslim leaders start practicing what they preach and stop turning their heads and putting their fingers in their ears.
When non-Muslim lands with Muslim leaders stop being fearful and start preaching using the Quran and the life of the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH), with an understanding of God's words in the Quran and the words of the Prophet.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders abandon their pre-occupation with making money to provide comforts for their own families and children and begin concerning themselves with speaking the truth and doing right to ensure the comforts of all families and children.
When Muslim leaders and other leaders stop playing politics and begin speaking about politics and the hard issues affecting Muslims, humanity, our world.
When Muslims start holding themselves and holding their religious leaders accountable.
When Muslims and others start supporting their God-fearing, truth-telling, justice seeking leaders and role models.
When Muslims and others really believe Allah hu Akbar/God is Greater than and La ilaha illallah/There is no God or Authority but Allah or God.
When Muslims start seeing and understanding those who perceive and practice Islam based on a particular school of thought...Sunnism or ****'ism or Sufism, etc. and those who do not align themselves with one particular school of thought or ideology as all one Ummah, one brotherhood, one body.
When Muslims and others end resorting to the cultures of their countries and ethnicities and begin relying upon God's culture, one that unifies and strengthens all.
When lands of the world start making alliances with Al-Quds and with Palestine.
When humanity acknowledges the hypocrisy of Zionist Israel and the disaster and mayhem it has caused the world.
When the world realizes the criminality of Zionism.
When people of the world start thinking and acting globally and not individually or nationalistically.
When people begin to see, understand, and act in ways that reflect that the Muslims of Al-Quds and of Palestine are oppressed, grieving, struggling, bleeding members of one human family.
When each of us STOPS and thinks of them and their situation and the siege of the sacred Al-Aqsa Mosque and what role we all play.

by: Najwa Kareem

The Hills went driving
All over the highway
Didn't care much for timing
Up and down cracked roads
The lights overhead shined bright
She wanted to know (confusion)
He already did (premonition)
And so they kept on going
The tires, they kept rolling
The bright lights kept glowing

He loved her so much
Never would hurt her
Was fueled by her touch
But then they touched her
Swept away and they never saw it coming

She noticed first that they were levitating
A consciousness forever confiscating
They both felt the presence of the stars
Locked away in their messy little car
Before they knew it, they were in it
And before they could do it, they already did it
Changed forever and all I got was this stupid illness
Heading to the doctor to find out what the **** this sickness is
And it's all always the same old story
So I'll just end here for fear of being boring
But it's true
The Hills are anew

Sick I was weaker than I would be,
Soaked in vulnerability.

Recovering I was,
Still innocent, naive.
She sneaked in silently,
Masked under new skin.

I, forgetting her old tricks,
Welcomed her entrance.
Confiscating my opinions,
Shadowing my existence.

An oddly familiar reminder,
My speed my flexibility.
The ever swinging pointer,
Numbers, the scales, my proximity.

I, still trapped in her captivity,
Never knew to seek escape.
I, forever her prisoner,
Control she over takes.

Sorry, dude. I must admit
I find it more than pathetic
That you experience life
With sorrow about some of it
That you don’t have a drug
To take to help appreciate
Something that is amazing
And really needs no chemical
To help you exaggerate
What is really going on
And pretend it is better
Or somehow transcendent
As if water can be wetter.

But it is as if time warped
And I have gone backward
To talk to myself about it
And then zapped forward
To see what a saturate
What a wet-brained fool
I was back then, it’s true.
I was a tin-plated tool.
I measured my existence
One dime bag at a time
Giggling with stoner friends
About my forays into crime;
Selling backs of skunk ****
When nobody else had any
Good stuff or bad stuff.
And I was the one with plenty.

Walking through Hollywood
With stoner friends and flakes
Singing as we stumbled along
About life and what it takes
To satisfy *** hounds those days.
***, drugs and rock and roll
And pride in our half-witted ways.
Learning how to roll pinners
Of a buddy’s stash on the sly
While he was taking a whizz
And couldn’t ask me why.
Learning how to properly treat
The remaining sticks and stones
And confiscating the roaches
When the others left them alone.

That was the cannabis coalition
The Sativa Society at its height.
We worked in the daytime and
Got ******* most every night.
And sooner or later, on the job
In the bathroom or on the roof.
I didn’t think of it addiction.
I still needed further proof.
I needed to try to buy ****
From a government man I met.
Fortunately I bailed on that
Before adding one more big regret.
Life has gotten better since then
No more outside dependence.
I quit before the drugs became
The entire focus of my existence.

do I possess an inner reality
one of hallucinatory psychosis
and if so is it
incorruptible
immutable
does it float on my breath
confiscating my words
is it a projection of my self
like watching a movie
disconnected
yet caught on the edge
of a dematerialization
which reflects images that mob my head
causing me to think of rats
that slink out of drains at noon
and whispers in the mouth
like a static interference on my mind

the sirens are screaming...emphatic, shooting waves in blades over my skin. The horizon sinks in. A little too left, and I left too late - my foot pressed so firm against these brakes - but I pause in place. The river is tumbling over my thoughts are so chaotic in the wet weather i can manage to pull it together. Times and places pushed into names and faces, i remember, i am forgetting, i am hoping for obliteration. My drink is heavy and so are these door handles i can't manage to turn. They say, lessons learned. My internal clock ticks slow and aimlessly and with every single thought, it pounds in my ears. tick, tick. Out of sync with my heartbeat. Confiscating my dis-beliefs with an echo shivering every inch of my skin. GROUND CONTROL, and rest your eyes. I have felt nothing more and nothing less than everything. I have reached into the darkness and held out my hand for satisfaction, for excitement. These voices don't seem to want to quit and i refuse to give a single ounce of my energy to a promise, a reason, that doesn't enhance my being. I'd apologize but i have never felt less apologetic. Those selfish fictions thrown into the toxic air don't settle anybody's soul. Advancing through every day with these cold chains wrapped around my wrists, i have found it difficult to reach that warm cloud of forgiveness. I can't complain, but i will tell you the truth....I am sick of this. Foundations built, crumbling as fast as this rain can fall upon my sober skin. Wishes, wants, cries, desires. There is an army conspiring and no amount of ignorance can buy us new blank pages, this is our destiny. What was made for us. Lines blurred between real-life and realizations, I would like a strong dose of free will and emancipation, please. CURE THIS, CURE US. This disease. It lingers on my breath. I keep up with the mint, but it always comes back. haunting. laughing. discriminating. I have found comfortable harbor in pain. What pulls us, pushes us, scares us, binds us together. The circle inside that we attempt to ignore is the very thing that saves us. We are one but we will never win. Drive every last drop of thought from my skull before driving that pointed edge in. Before the blur replaces the bored. Because we decided to give up on thought. We chose to ignore. Dead as the sun, and dead as the sea. The circle continues.

The oppressive winter, a fierce warlord
revels in his victory over the summer,
forcing all that was once living
to bear the heavy burden
of his frost,
confiscating our colors,
giving us only ice as payment.

However, in some obscure corner of this land,
Mother Nature hides,
waiting to restore our hues, our animation-
cowering, shrouded in secret.
Somewhere, she waits anxiously,
plump with child,
to bring us what we crave so terribly:
Spring.
Somehow, she is certain that
Spring will restore someone’s lost joy.

Now it is just a matter of time.

I deserve love, only the best of the best, from the best!
I’ve spent too much time not being happy; too much time,
signing my own song, too much time, being all alone.
I want so much for you to believe, that you and me
are total alchemy.
There is no one else on my radar screen, no one else,
confiscating my dreams.
No other man on this earth has autographed his name inside my heart.
I used to believe in fairy tales, now I believe in dreams coming true.
You have captured my spirit with your strength, and laced it with a dose
of pure perfection.

Thick-muddy roads around some sick cruddy homes.
Drugs flowing in toe by toe.
Water’s running dry or poisoned,
Just waiting for the Vultures to show.
Institutionalized woes, seen in droves.
Internalized hatred making each other foe’s.
Systematic destruction killing everything we know.
But that’s the way it goes,
In the savage lands where people lose their very souls.
We in the savage lands, where things are running foul.
With some not realizing we never really got rid of the white cowl.
I don’t care what you have to say!
Things aren’t ok, ok, ok!
Don’t you see racism is still alive today?
Uh, education? What education?
After 100 years of attempted extermination.
Forcing their indoctrination, lock us up,
Incarceration.
Isolating us from the rest of the population,
What’s that called again?
Alienation!
With missing and murdered indigenous women.
Yet the police take so much longer in their investigations.
Confiscating children out they homes,
Calling it salvation.
It’s like a third world country out here man!
It’s like we living in Damnation!
But that’s just the way it goes,
This is the savage land, where people have lost their very souls.
We in the savage lands, where things are running foul.
With some not realizing we never got rid of the white cowl.
Yeah, so I don’t care what you have to say!
Things aren’t ok, ok, ok!
Don’t you see racism is still alive today?

By: Cedric McClester

Trump would like us to take
A poisoned Kool Aid drink
Because many people think
Just like many people don’t
By giving him their support
They’re selling themselves short
No matter how we retort
To him it’s merely a sport

While telling his many lies
He never identifies
Who those many people are
That he’s noted thus far
And it’s really scary
Because he derives his theory
From the worldwide internet
Which should make us all upset

Now he’s praising Putin
Who’s in Crimea shooting
And confiscating land
Because he’s out of hand
But Donald’s busy dissin’
Our President and dismissing
Him as incompetent
Like he’s been where he went

Making crucial decisions
Requires the kind of precison
That the Donald lacks
These are just the facts
But his ego is such
That he thinks too much
Of his inherent ability
Because he’s much too blind to see




Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016.  All rights reserved.

what to do when the old you is gone
and the new you is here
what to do when the old you was good
and the new you is bad
I am not very good proponent
so my future is only outcroppings.
My present is iridescent
my omen is not clear to meaning
but i try my best
but all i get are outcroppings
I find the reprimands repugnating,
but the sheen side of me seems to slip away
even when i am trying to hold on.
there are debonair times
that bring that sheen back,
but people seem to enjoy confiscating it.
I am not a cynical
at least not out loud
So when this happens
i beacon a hand of prayer for guidance
and my kinetic energy comes back
until they confiscate it again
i will remain happy with joy

502 bad gateway bypass:
title - through the loops
body - target practice...

finally! it's done! 3 years in the making: since you can only
do certain things during the warmer months...
finally! it's done!
but unlike Nietzsche: there's nothing melancholic about
what has been achieved...
perhaps because he was referring to intellectual endeavours
and not endeavours of physical labour...
that's completely different: with completing some
manual labour endeavours: there comes this waterfall
of relief... a bit like being crucified...
3 years with good interludes...
                            how many tonnes of earth
and sand and pebbles? that one year where
the natural grass failed to take proper root...
having to resort to fake grass carpets...
   mind you: i was sceptical at first...
until me and my father laid it out...
                          not so bad...
              it's actually better than the real thing...
it's hyper-real...
             i can just lie on it... i don't need anything
akin to a rug to lie on it... and admire the sky...
          we've been waiting for over 15 years for our
next-door neighbour to put up a fence...
prior to that? the garden felt congested... since there was
no fence... instead? bushes... endless roughage...
here and there a makeshift fence...
3 years ago she finally gathered her resources:
well... her policeman son gathered the resources...
the labourers came... cut all the shrubbery...
flat to the ground... put up the fence... ****** off...
that's when the work began...
i remember those damp April days...
groundwork is such an unforgiving work...
   i had to wrestles with over 30 roots... sawing...
chopping... hammering...
well... if i wanted to replace these roots with
digging up holes for fruit trees... oh man...
the stuff i found... bricks... pieces of concrete...
pieces of concrete and bricks...
               how many times did we have to travel
to the recycling centre?
how many times did we order a skip?!
    **** me... at least 3 times...
   then there was the dismantling of the rotting wooden
shed... then there was the levelling of the ground...
putting up a plastic: sturdy shed... much larger...
then another little shed...
   so i have three sheds in my garden...
      and a very believable attic with more storage space...
i also have a little house that houses
a jacuzzi...
                 slabs... plenty of sitting area...
plenty of flowers... i forget the name...
   but a quasi-bush more akin to a tree of limes...
rosemary... thyme, oregano... wild garlic... that:
when watered come the night: a perfume of marijuana...
tomatoes, apples, pears, morello cherries...
figs... apricots... rhubarb...
        plums... oh dear: my plum tree that i planted
is chasing the eucalyptus tree...
         a bay leaf bush...
                  chives... mint...
                  i sort of am... a devil in his own garden:
my work! mein werk! me! i did this!
   after three years i can sit down on the grass...
look at the moon and the constellations and...
ah: sigh... i did this, with some help...
i was the one who unearthed all the roots...
i was the one labouring with tonnes of **** going
out and tonnes coming in...
sand, earth, pebbles...
                     i was the one more happy to use
a KANGO and a HARROWS...
                           me! me! JA!

it's as if the "pandemic" never really happened...
me? i was busy in the garden...
clash of cultures...
why do English-speaking throw their children
out of their house as quickly as possible?!
do any... help around the house?
how much money do you think i saved my parents?!
i just see lazy-*** "*******" slouching...
no wonder they get thrown-out of their parents
abode...
   i'm sort of like a tennis player...
my father is my trainer... well: yes, no...

i'm a ******* custodian of the household by now...
i cook the food... i clean the house...
i'm currently trying to get rid of a rat
that somehow managed to find refuge in my kitchen...
**** it: drink and explain...
the classical traps? yeah: i know...
it will break its snout...
he already managed to drag one mousetrap with him...
it probably trapped its tail...
rat being rat: he probably dragged the trap
with him into darkness... and by now has
chewed his tail off...

but i'm on edge... i have a "presence" in my household
that shouldn't be here..
thanks to my Nigerian neighbours...
the ******* "voodoo" overlord of the house-lord
is fond of feeding "pigeons" at the end of his
garden... leaving food around...
**** me... haven't been living in London
long enough?! you feed pigeons in the park...
ducks... swans... you leave food out in your garden?!
you're going to attract rats!
unless... like me... you purposively left
left-over food in a bowl for a fox you started calling
Brody who came round for about a month
because you missed having a dog / why the myth
that cats drink milk?!

that's what i miss most about having dogs...
that's what i miss about my youth...
come Sunday... ****** chicken soup...
and roast chicken...
sure... grandma always overcooked the chicken
to the point where: no one wanted
to eat the chicken *******... back then?!
who had a ******* thermometer to check whether
the meat was at 165 degrees Fahrenheit?!
no one... so... poultry chalk...

but? we all gathered to eat... leftover meat...
bones... even egg shells...
and the chicken soup... with the vermicelli...
who ate the remains?
the dog... the smartest dog i ever
could have been raised with...
Bella... an Alsatian...
     from the stories of my grandfather:
i was able to shove my entire arm into her PYSK:
gob... and she wouldn't mind...
   and i used to ride her... and she used to pull
the sleigh i sat on during winter...
when my grandfather broke the news to me
that she died... i wept...
hmm... i didn't weep when my grandfather died:
i got drunk post-ceremony of the funeral
and hit my head on the radiator: bled...
a month later i ***** out a tear out of my head
thinking: because the eyes do more than merely see...

i cried over a dog... we're so simple...
the simpler the gain the simpler the reward...
and animals give us both...
nothing's too complicated, ever...
but she would reap all the rewards from five people
sharing a Sunday roast...
i loved the way she slurped that rich soup
of bone and meat and vermicelli and what not...
however... since we aged at almost the same time...
she would never trust me to go walking with her...

mein gott... the joy she expressed whenever
i came back from England... she almost ****** her fur...
i loved that dog: she was my sister in a way...
it's so much more surprising to grow up as a single
child with an animal for company:
i failed at hamsters... as i failed at the lesser
Egyptian jerboa: ****** jumped jumped jumped...
until he jumped into a basin of water and drowned...

i was good with St. Augustine's Primary School
Budgerigars... since i was entrusted with them
over the summer holidays...
when i was: E-high... i.e. this high: _
                                                              _­

i wish i was more lenient with Axl: my dobberman...
but then he did try to bite my eye out
after i whipped him for attacking Bella...
mind you: he gave me an eternal memory...
so i was walking him and he bit into a pile
of ****...
   upon biting into it i peered in...
ugh... parasites... worms... the **** was filled with
them wriggling like a 5pm commute in
London...
a beautiful beast: but as thick as a brick...
me and this blonde friend of mine were
playing the earliest version of Nitendo
in my room and... ****** gave him a nose-ring...
my friend started bleeding from his nose...
we had to sell him...
            and once we sold him...
the people we sold him to wanted to give him
back... he's fishing for piranhas!
and as "abstract" that sentence is going to say...

3 ******* years... i had to sit under the eucalyptus
and the plum tree with two ciders admiring
my efforts...

clash of cultures... i've even started joking with my
parents as if we're peers...
i think we're going to die apart as peers...
why are English children ejected from
their households at such an early age?
do they, help, around the house?!
do they cook?! do they clean?
are they invoked to do some groundwork in
the garden? or... do they require some
Eastern European handyman to do their **** for them?!

just asking... i did my work...
i'm going to ask for a payment of...
three cartons of cigarettes...
for work spanning three years...
   i think i'm justified in asking for so little...
plus... i do bring in income to pay for the food...
rent? what rent? the mortgage has been paid
off since i didn't get married...
so... look at me: flimsy flying octopus!
ooh ooh!
            i'm making my bed as "we" go along...
and i'm sometimes having trouble sleeping
for too long... say... from 3am till 2pm...
by then the day is finished...
                
but it's not like my parents employed some *******
handyman to sort out their garden:
ich was da...
   i was there...
           i was there when... i was visiting my grandparents
and my parents wen on holiday
to the Maldives... and we left the care of our
former cat: Oscar... Darshan... to the neighbours
two doors down... Sikhs: you'd think...
sure... give him food... clean the toilet...
on an everyday basis: i don't mind:
but if someone wants to b a boy-scout:
a new found friendship...
parents get invited to their wedding: second... wedding...
the first wedding she married a female boxer...
blah blah...

two days prior to coming back i get an eerie sensation...
i call my parents: i need to go back!
i need to look after the cat...
they brush it off... he's just mad...
right... 2 days later... they come back to England...
"oops": the cat is dead... kidney "failure"...
this ******-Sikh alliance soon ended...
guilt + truth crept in...
oh... how beautifully it crept in...

from sadness i stalked the night...
i managed to find a leftover croquet "sample"...
if i took all the pieces out...
sure... i could...
   and i did... i walked into a World War I cemetery
and started to hack off a piece of gravestone...
the amount of anger i felt was right for the occasion...
i put that hacked off piece of gravestone
on my croquet trolley and dragged it home...

in the full moonlight i dug a hole...
placed the ashes into it...
enough earth for the earth to breath some more ash...
and lodged the hacked off tombstone
into the ground with a thunderbolt of
hand-movement...

oh... i'm not talking to these ******* two-doors down
neighbours... i thought they were suspect all along...
they killed: my: ******* cat...
are they doubly suspect? of course they are!
last time i heard Sikhs could be mistakes for Hindus...
ooh... now isn't a cow now all the more: JUI-CY?!
i feel a Hannibal Lecter gimmick coming along...
i feel like drinking a medium-rare steak...
i want to eat "mother"...

                      ... of course we will clash culturally...
three generations of Asians living under one *******
roof is the NORM... whereas in Western Europe
a guy living with his parents his considered "weird":
even though... that same guy is doing all the househoild
chores... so where are all the pathological cry-babies
playing video-games about?

and the price of living in London is now what?!
i've taken the Darwinistic approach...
where do i have ***? in a brothel...
sure... i'd love an American motel
or a Japanese love-hotel... i'm a little bit bound
to confiscating the pleasure chambers... " "... as it were...
rather: less confiscating them and more:
constraining them...

   but my parents will not die in a retirement home...
and by the time i inherit all of this...
i will have already filtered through enough
suitors of the opposite *** to tell all of them:
sorry... thank you... you're not bringing anything
but a headache to the "table"...
from tome immemorial:
that's how reality worked....
it's still working: it's working better than ever...

one drunk girl has enough ego-booster
to cling to me and tell me: oh... you're ****...
right... now i know...
        all the other timid ones think the same
but are too sober to say those same words...
am i? am i going to go out of my way
to satisfy this ploy?! this plot?!
nope...
            i bailed out long before bailing out
was a "vogue"...
back in 2007.... 2022 is a long time since 2007...

            you touch my Quarus....
you touch my Veroniya...
i'll ******* give you a toothache with a lawnmower!
i'm unhinged... when it comes to
the safety of my cats...
i'll ******* give you a toothache with a lawnmower!
i started rewatching American Beauty with
a remoteness of fleeing glee...

wow! that movie! that movie was so important!
i sort of live by it!
   like: i don't want to live like this mid-life
crisis realisation moment life ought to precipitate into!

mmm... hmm... pet-killing...
i don't care if you're Jesus or Ghandi...
****** would have never...
                   hide... just... hide...
               you ******* Uber-Tandoori bicycle peddlers...
nein!
               niet!
                 i'll ******* dig up your grave and
**** our ***-hole and eye-socket for killing my
dearest friend!
                   hush! hush! ******* Turbanator Mc-****-Lord!
this is personal..
                 you just allowed me for it to become
more expressive...
          ******* singe of Singh;
you don't... get... to... pay... off... vipers!
shut the **** up!

let's call it: Tweed Afghanistani;
spice imperium my ***...
in terms of food?
you need water, you need fire...
you need salt...
          you need time...
             you need... the fifth always escapes me...
like lightning escaped
the arithmetic of elements
for the ancient of days...
                           ah!                        OIL!

we're not friend: better we become enemies
than pretend to become friends.

/once upon a time, the sugar impetus, suddenly devolving into the auto-digestive minding of fat residue... come the brain-digesting-proteins-in-Alzheimer's.... and... piquant varient of: falling "short".

    /somewhere along the tongue
to mind loss of ember...
       i... seem to have lost
the technical usage of
   a spanish variant of ditto... namely
the wheelchair bother...
             glum look
confiscating the gimp pride...
i.e. territorial passengers?
      my bad...
                    thank god
this is neither too intelligent,
nor too dumb...
        at least we have
the middle ground covered./

the form of "translating"
the eastern version:
             a... cabaret...
of the western:
     res rarus ex cogitans...
   thing, rare
to find among "thinking"...
the joke per se
is:  the ******* monologue!
eastern people can only digest
cabaret humour,
  tickling a chance for
theatre...
these days nothing at all
is funny...
esp. with the missing
limbs to add to a language
tailored to a body...
Ramadam poetry:
             having eaten
a *******'s worth
of operatic oysters
impersonating
        tonsils...
         serious point though...
why is eastern humour
only fathomable
  when translated within
the confines of a cabaret...
and the west,
  resorts to the extended
"concern" for thought,
     being made puppet
with strings akin to
   tzitziyot being missing:
oh god,
   revising with circumcision
to mind...
             western humour
and the monologue...
  a weird affection
  for voyeurism...
              the: solo act...
        which can hardly be
translated into the eastern
european sentiment for
the cabaret...
    it's really become a
scenario of:
not that i might laugh...
        but i am
prone to the lethargic
expression of humour...
     eastern humour
is less autistic in expression...
hence the cabaret...
            but this
jerking off on a stage
           solo-take-on-
american acronyms?
               short of what?
    what's the funny part?
i'm dying to confiscate
laughter into my *****...
      stand-up contra
     cabaret...
      low-body-language-skills
           in stretching
     a snail into a shoelace...
   sort of ha ha?
           point being:
comedy in the format of solo,
who doesn't
    invite the concept
of      cabaré(t)
  into affairs being minded...
             ray goon oogh...
     shot me dead...
                 stand-up solo
is what's decided upon
as the off-shoot of
         the ritual of thought...
the θ-ought...
       moral precursor of
choice...
              comes the cabaret...
theatre of jokes,
contra the:
    mono-back-to-square-uno
spotlight...
             i'll let
the intelligent people schprech...
     i'm too dumb
to even mind this,
                    "inconvenience";
tomorrow is just
another day in minding
the 15th century...
          and yesterday,
is...
               a challenge
on taking bribes,
              with a back into
tomorrow inconveniece of:
     making bets...
roulette sun-dance
                            minors.

I want to consume you with my every breath
Replacing myself with you piece by piece
I consider it outrageous
The way you fill my lungs
The obvious determination of mind body and soul
Making yourself a side effect of my abuse
My self neglect
My bad habit
The obvious press of you against my lips
Civil, the way you present yourself
Engaged by the touch of lips
Engulfed in your total embrace
A mouthful of clarity sitting for seemingly a moment before losing all self control
Requesting that I do so again
And again
A pleasure shared between us both, loudly spoken.
It's almost impossible
Imaging myself lost in habit
Disclosing a part of myself not easily seen
Doing so
And choosing to do so again
Imposing a mentality that causes moral concern
If you should ever leave
Extinguishing the spark felt between wood and surface
A fearful behavior
The smothering of external emotion
Closing the gap between argument
Confiscating my words for silence
This urge of consolation
Where would I go
The aches and pain of woe
Positive in the way I held you
Listening to a library of thought
Admiring your gorgeous posture
Suggesting I embrace you again
And again
The fume of dysfunction never felt so beautiful
The beauty in self destruction for another
Craving a choice that was no longer mine

i own
a bed...

          but i rather...

sleep on...

a hardened...
wooden

flooring...

          that there's
an excuse
for a three-some:

soak of two stags...
and two: and a third....

glory hole:
waiting...

        tiny-rubberband,,,
hell-spew: nue-spawn
of the loitering:

third ***** of lesotho...
this... diatribe prince...
blank pawn- and panther...
spawn... best: retort:

a time when racial differences:
where a last:
difference binding
incremental loitering...
lining...

          the rancid "quid"....
copper-flaking...
my most adhered to...
bubble-wrapping...
          my loot and loitering...
skim-reading of erasmus...

      gas-lit...
             incubus...
the last salvaged barber shopping...
that sort of trim...
that rhapsody in...
sub-topic...
*******... debunking measures...
spawn: en vogue...
belitteling meausures...
facing the *****-bank...
basics... and new world conquering...
this great... unfamiliar past
of the bleach panther...

       chain-locket and a mirror of
surprise...
about 4 children later...
some variation of first towed along
"love"... my love my love...
the last lesson...
the first at arrived at grievance...
a bismarck: my last loaded:
sq. hope for a miser:
and some... variation...
a hello... a hello... a hello...

                  as best: heaved...
the last... a remnants of...
                        this a wording...
lost: to the autobiography...
of the U-boat captive...
or the panzer-tank... captive...

                confiscating the captives...
of the lesser man...
of the lesser man...
     confiscating the captives...
for all the time in the world...
and all the world...
was... this... time... most... limiting!

you want me to put out a cigarette out
inside your eye?
   let's face it: tears don't come cheap...
sometimes you need more
than a rom-com to turn your eye into a
niagara falls... which way's the
              hmm hum umm?
this sort of time-frame
is really confiscating my
anti-claustrophobic philia
worth of shaking
hands or knee-jerking
really quick;
get my drift? no? no matter...
i can do with a "thought"
basis for summary...
   ah **** me...
can you imagine feeling
magnetism when shaking
your hand really ******?
      apart from watching
paint dry,
   i suggest the "movie"
of watching ice freeze,
or mercury freeze...
   the latter?
  gone with the wind standard
of 3 hours +...
               nice though...
to imagine, better still:
imitate...
    what a sin to bed driving
a car, and listening to
classical music,
citing john brunning after five
p.m., who the **** listens to
classical music when driving
a car?
             leprechauns?!
         he-be-he-be-hoom-ha?!
modesty just ****** off,
all we're left with is
a welcome "bargain" of profanity;
i always enjoyed the idea
of running 100m while dribbling
a football, like the time
when marc overmars could outrun
most sprinters dribbling a football
while playing the left-wing for arsenal...
every time i see these men of sprint
getting all cocky... i tend to ask
them: hold an egg on a tbl. spoon...
and run the same time of the worth
of distance...
marc overmars would still
     out-run you...
mind the fact that he was also dribbling
a football...
            evidently humanity will not
remember a marc overmars: simply because
he wasn't in a ****** advert...
      too bad... that dutch "prince" could
out-run that jamaican rod while
juggling three oranges with his hands,
   balancing a watermelon on his head,
                and dribbling a football;
basic!

I look around me
and this is what I see:
Relentless battles
Fighters not knowing why they are asked to fight
and their leaders engage with no purpose
Borders separating people’s lands
and checkpoints confiscating their freedom

I look around me
and this is what I see:
Racists and hate
for colour, religion and race
Why don’t they embrace?

I look around me
and I hear a victim talking:
You whom cannot hear me.
I have been talking
for lunar and solar years
My voice is hoarse
No response is offered
I am no different
and I don’t want to be.
Will you hear me?

I look at my Palestinian self,
and I feel it all!

Mohammed Arafat
09-06-2020

/            mandolin as the, "neu-banjo"?
say that
and the people look up,
attempting to hawk-eye
                           their foreheads
with the inquiry:
        the **** are you talking about?
spreschen was,            
                                vas spreschen?!
mandolin is the new banjo
   element of celtic-gypsy derivatives?!
now? now you have a surreal
problem on your hands...
  banjo contra mandolin?
   you mean that squiggly line "in between"?
"somehow"
                   confiscating yet
                 surmißing the two as the same?
ever plaid a mandolin outside a window
looking up at a lass, *******?!
              no banjo can act-out playing
that heart...
                                 birth, roma, hearth!

sent her to south-america to remind
me of my projects.                                          /

How much more of this can we take?
How can people stand idly by
While major atrocities are being
Committed and STILL turn a blind eye?

Parents are still being separated
From their children at our border.
The Trump administration is
Ruthlessly carrying out the order.

We hear the children cry for their mami,
Cry for their papi, and what do we do?
We put them in cages and tents, heedless
Of all of the pain they are going through.

Secretary Nielsen has tried
To justify the hard-line position,
Blaming the victims and giving excuses
As to the importance of the mission.

White nationalist Stephen
Miller must be jumping for joy
As he achieves his goal: provoking
Anybody he can annoy.

AG Sessions cites the Bible
To find support for his devilish deeds.
At the same time, authorities
Are confiscating rosary beads.

John Kelly is all for it.
He thinks being cruel is fine
When you badly need a deterrent
To keep people from crossing the line.

Spineless Republican members of Congress
Worry about offending Trump's base.
Dragging their feet on the issue, they
Don't care if they're a disgrace.

Meanwhile, the suffering
Continues. Children--traumatized--
Are innocent victims. This is what happens
When human rights are compromised.

-by Bob B (6-19-18)

if i were to write any autobiography
i'd like,
   i'd write the one,
that begins with a biographer that knew
no first person sources,
including mine...
              but i'd also like to learn
a mourning of some sort, that didn't
have to be expected of me,
cheap like a tattoo...
                  it would be nice to not have
blamed for certain things;
namely?
the more apparent my dead twin
becomes, through
what's called a proverb:
lies have short legs...
                up to and including turning 30,
and still the ******* taboo!!!!!!!!!!!!
      talk now is impossible among the slavs,
just, gestures...
        postulates or
hierarchal studies that 200+ years from
now will not allow:
why?!
          if labour jobs will be gone,
who says these people have soul /
any impeding argument worth hearing,
let alone a soul?
   automate them!
           spew the same old load of *******...
can you imagine,
i beat the a.i. plagiarism bot
in a sociology example,
by using thesaurus better than the
programmers could have envisioned?
i had the human capacity to use
a thesaurus with more ingenuity...
   too bad for the programmers...
no good for me...
in my 2nd year, you could live
a good lot for 30 quid a week....
             oh i still have a 10+K
        debt...
  but the rule is:
you only start paying it back
once you earn 15+K a year...
                    no offer... no dividends...
or as i like to call it:
can you, really, really, really, doubly
really: complicate confiscating meaning
with the simple artefact of making
a coin flip?

beyond good (nor) and evil (either) -
there's but the medium
of and, and, and;
there is no "beyond",
let alone "good",
"or", "evil" -
only the continuum
of the confiscating
confusion, of the criterium
known as history,
with no logical beginning
other than a wheel,
rather than a straight line...
and that dreaded word - and;
ipsum et cetera;
or as the arabs would tell
you:
   much easier to stomach,
having the complete
****** palette, and having
the social norm of being
able to **** your first cousin;
and yes, the romans built
their society upon surrogacy,
on fostering children;
but what of
the antidote when inventing
the caesarian anti-biblical
method of giving birth?
now? residing in the squalor
of what's already an anti-science
movement.
i do not wash my hands
because i do not care,
but i wash my hands clean
of the current affairs,
simply because:
    i do not believe in passing
my genese, as the only
worthy cause, for my thinking
to encompass.

Darwinism wasn't somehow pop.
with at least one
19th century thinker:
         i can understand the pragmatism
the entire English locomotive
work-ethic of: seeing clearly...
why is Darwinism less inherently
vogue or... not...
than... the Copernican "feud"... of optics?
it's not less before or after seeing
that **** similis of a ****-flinging
ape... grandiosity of the gorilla...
the chimp... aside...
while having to admire the *******
macaques like crows...
i blame the Estonians for being the people
who killed the last example of
a mammoth...
i can admire the whole:
no, wait... i don't...
yet still in me...
some.... materialistically clad
atheism of Lutheran sensibility...
i don't admire this readily available Darwinism
because... well... it devolves me from
an ontological status
of dealing with abstracts as having
to delve into a concreteness of...
skeletons...
if Darwinism was "unfashionable"
at its awakening:
un-palette-able by standards executed by
some, Nietzsche...
it was deemed a signature of being
a German academic...
while not being versed in...
the least: a knowledge of Stendhal?
well then: Flaubert must have been...
a...
          sign along to whatever tune
you like...
as much as Darwinism is right...
i don't like the shape-shifting take on focus
for man to clean-up...
or be forever undermined by...
the similarity of man and / to ape
was well known in antiquity...
i distrust this sudden penance of...
reiteration... this blitzkrieg of "enlightenment"...

vogue... counter vogue: this neu-brennpunkt...
new-focus...
the ape is yet to be extinct...
you can... you have to admire
an arican running...
you'll hardly admire a hebrew for his intellectual  
prowess...
the african will be admired, though...
well then...
look at me... admiring an african or a hindu...
attempting to... ha ha... SWIM!

throw 'em into the deep-end and watch 'em...
S-S-SINK...
oh i can't beat your best runner...
but sure as ****...
if white boy can't jump...
black boy can't swim!
let's reiterate to clog up the already
available volume of lettering:
if white boy can't jump...
black boy can't swim!

oh believe me...
white boy can't jump...
but black boy can't swim, either...
so much for...
that history: from africa... detailing
the passage of apes from africa
via... lost swimming instructors....
beside the Egyptian hieroglyphs...
these Africans wrote... what?"
oh... the white girls replies with...
and his most... celebrated asset was...
having a phallus sized 12" long...
welcome... along purpose: tool...
the ancient Greeks had a retaliation
of this: emblem of success...
barbarism...
****-exfoliating...

           and all you ever achieved was...
something you were inherently gifted with?!
so little... i was expecting so much more
from your... "lot"...  a 12" *****, walking...
with an argument from some whitey
****-neck was... the last...
of my expectations...

i actually wondered:
there's much more to this man than...
dolly-fiddling-a-fill...

she is a white girl...
i'm not use to her...
she is a white girl...
sooner i: you too... confiscating a
bow-tie...
than leaving the scene without...
incriminating details of...
"purpose"... "pose"..
you tell me...
she's a white girl and she's getting
all the right, proper, piston work-out
come, readily made... available...
she's even importing them on the ducky-boat-load...
because... "ancient" Libya is...
ha ha...

she's a white girl and she has a ****'s worth
of a watermelon slice in her...
i'm not begging...
i'm just gagging for a life without having to chance
to have to... procreate with this...
beached whale of...
the least...
let the Nimrods procreate and reproduce...
i hold no allegiance to a sum total of man...
let the idiots take their fill...
i am... done!

let the idiots take their ride...
i'm done with these existential qualms...
you're ready, no?
dear, ******... you're readily available
to continue? no?
well... i'm not... the antithesis of an intelligent
"arachnophobia"...

smart doesn't procreate... it doesn't dwell
on offspring...
why my distrust for Darwinism?
it's ideal for the staging of the continued prowess of...
Nimrods...
it's almost counter0-intuitive...
well... it is...
   the super-apes...
the gorillas... the chimps...
the down syndrome Orangutans...
closely aligned eyes... you "see"...
down syndrome... imitation...

  but all those fruit monkey shrinks?
the macaqueces?
the baboon is off-limits?!
bonsai spice gwirls?!
         you ******* with me?
what's new... what's old?
what's the same?
     between you and me...
the tiger... a bonsai... "tiger"... a cat..
lions are the least aesthetically pleasing...
the leopard...
**** me... even the hyena is more appealing
than a lion...

tiger... cheetah... a creature of cringe...
with a fringe of dreadlock...
buy ******* arguments: elsewhere...
hello 1am no sooner..

i'm tired i'm... lingering on: broke...
i have a *******...
while there's a a canvas i simply can't... express myself
onto...
peel me a carrot...
confine me to teasing a peel-off-of-a-grape...
no... you won't...
the 20th century somehow died...
a death via a least expected take on...
procrastination.

I am all alone
Through the cracks
My emotions roam
Swimming through the brush
When it really needs a comb
And they always wonder
What goes on inside Johnathens dome
Two girls licking his legs
With some chocolate and some foam
But I am trouble prone
When I was younger my mother stayed confiscating my phone
When I tried to plead my case
She always griped that she didn't like my tone
Now I am in my zone
Chewing gum and laughing loud
Whitney's talking about something
But my head is in a cloud
Finally going to college in the fall
My moms is Penny Proud
Graduated high school 3 years ago
So my educational consequences are mild
I'm a grown kid
Nothing is wrong with exposing your inner child Pushing boundaries to the extreme
To the fullest they're aloud
Through these glasses I see a lot
Through these frames I see pain
The friendships I have slain
My heart is in the E.R
Its suffered 2 break ups and a busted vein
Driving in the world of love
Its just some people can't stay in their lane
Tears drop like transparent rice
My spirit drops like saggy breast
I have Karmy and some other friends
But what happened to the rest
R.I.P Eric Tellis
I used to go in public and get jealous
Cause I would see what others have and laugh
If I didn't laugh then I would cry
Everyone has a best friend
But one less friend
One less problem to deal with
I must admit
I never thought that being grown would be this hard In corners I used to sit
And I would sob and sob
No tissues needed
I just let the tears run their track
I would never go back
But I feel like every since I left the mental hospital
I've been on mental house arrest and parole
Life is black
Nightmares have replaced dreams
In one of them I find myself running from a ******
I wonder if this occurs
To anyone on the A list
Forever 21 shirt, Levis, and some shoes from Pay-less Wasn't family that said
From family you're suppose to get smiles and greatness Don't judge me off body language
Don't judge me off demeanor
Relief
Have you seen her
Courage I condone
I'm still a gnome
Its right in my face
I can't run
Will anyone ever join me
Anyone
Anyone

boom! days like this: surprising come 4pm... while spending
the afternoon slob-esque... too tired to cycle...
some Adam ******* movie...
  don't mess with the Zohan?!
    Hebrew humour... slap-stick... simple...
easy-going... i don't like complicated jokes...
comedy should never be intelligent...
tragedy... that's another bag of bagels...
comedy out to be something to resurrect
the child in man... so much of it... ugh...
too complicated: the trying... the twying...
too tired for anything except for making three attempts
at taking a ****... sun's pretty... sunshine even prettier...
a decent glass of the wine i made....
and then 4pm hits... a message from one of my managers...
Saturday's event is coming up...
Tyson Fury's last fight of his career against Dillian Whyte...
Saturday, Wembley... mammoth shift...
sign in at 12pm... sign out at 1am...
                                   i'm almost thrilled to be taking
the Jubilee night tube for the first time back to Stratford
then... the N86 back to Romford... then walking back
home...
      finally! finally! my patience has paid off...
i listened, i respected everyone... i was just a puny steward...
work that wasn't even work to me:
not... not if you've been a roofer prior... **** easy
load of *******...
         i get a message from one of the managers...
give me a quick call...
    so i call him up... good afternoon, what's the issue?
oh... we've had to... shuffle the roles up a little...
would you mind being a supervisor for the entire
media crew? you'll meet and greet them...
and then escort them pitch-side... £14 an hour...
        but you'll also be working longer...
oh thank you... i'd greatly appreciate that...
   phone down... shoom!
            bye bye... oh this one guy... just got on my nerves...
on the same level of the hierarchy...
but... brain damage... worked longer...
was familiar with the girls... started thinking it was
a good idea to boss me about...
        standing out the stadium like a bunch of pawn
******... directing people... confiscating alcohol...
telling them they couldn't come in with rucksacks...
**** yes!
             Apache Indian: Boom Shack-Ah-Lak...
  finally... doing something i once recalled as useful...
must have really did a good job in other venues...
and... technically speaking...
i should have an NVQ level 3 to fulfilling this role...
oh... the practicality of the workforce...
when experience and: trust play a bigger role than
merely qualifications...
             meritocracy! i've found it! it was lost for a while...
but it's back... and... booming...
now i can't wait... i'm actually going to see
the last fight in Tyson Fury's career...
   ring side with the media crew...
                           this isn't work... this is a free pass!
mind you... pitch-side for the West Ham vs. Frankfurt
Europa League semi-final too...
tickets are currently selling... cheapest? over £300 (s)quid!
he he... ha ha...
                       ****... which means...
tomorrow is going to be a day of compact exercise
to beef up a little... and general hygiene...
nail cutting... i need to visit my Turk to trim my beard
and moustache...
   and i'll need to visit my hairdresser so she can cut
some lawn off my cranium...
   i'll need to re-iron my trousers... doubly polish my shoes...
hmm... make myself some extra lunch...
whoever said that work is drudgery...
               well... if you haven't been over-educated for
certain things... i guess it must be... boring...
for me the rule still stands at that black joke:
arbeit macht frei...
                              escapism... it really is...
                         in terms of what could be considered
manual labour... personally? it was a lot easier dealing
with inanimate objects... less stressful...
it's a lot different dealing with people...
              all that veneer... façade... i'm actually...
awed by my ability to have been able to pull this sort
of rabbit from a top-hat... well... yeah:
like a magician... after all... i'm the one psychiatrists
diagnosed as either schizophrenic or psychotic...
i mean: if you've been given a diagnosis as bad as that...
and now... you're... going to be a supervisor
for the media crew at Wembley stadium..
            ha ha... my face: right now... is a full moon...
and i have a smile on my face like a crescent orange...
well... someone got something wrong...
along the way...
          mind you: they never figured... maybe:
bilingualism is not a mental-disorder... hmm...
                i don't think they figured out that fact out...
maybe... 10 years from now...
    but by then... i'm already happy...
                     - there's this massive philosophical angle
to all of this:
   no one can imagine... how being down-trodden
feels like... until... the reverse happens...
as a man... you bask in... being entrusted with
something... outside of your "supposed" reach...
     oh man... it's far better than being...
what's the term... having women over-invest in you?
i'm looking... looking...
         oh hell no... to stand on equal footing with
men in a workforce... to distinguish yourself...
to be promoted... that's better than...
being able to approach an nth number of women
with bedroom success...
                    you get to feel: more: complete...
you allow yourself to find a totality: the sigma / sum
of you... you're like: right...
i can move the whole of me... rather than some
pitiable shrapnel of me of only being a hard-on
eager puppy...
            i can put on a masquerade... of...
professionalism...
                       and unlike being a teacher's pet...
although... in history class... i was a teacher's pet...
i just enjoyed the history of Anglo-Saxon England
too much...
                what?!
          but in the workplace... it's... phew... oh... ooh...
so relaxing working with strangers and not being
in the authoritarian hell-hole of working for
your father: i don't care if the money is not better...
but... to be released from the entanglements of
a father... being thrown into a... brotherhood...
sure... there are superiors... but...
the greatest teacher was my grandfather...
          he knew how to deal with people...
           just shakes hands: keep a firm handshake...
and firm eye-contact...
the rest is easy-peasy-cup-cake-baking...
             jeez! and i was such an outcast in my 20s...
seriously... after coming across the choir
and the great wind that dispersed it...
     i secluded myself...
             the demiurge was this: || close to ruining me
completely...
i have to thank him for giving me a second
chance... i guess i was: as best as i could have been
to my Hebrew neighbour...
but this is better than seeking pick-me-ups
while having *** with prostitutes...
   to hell with fame... i just was a nibble of the world...
the whole... fame fabric can... dissolve...
i just don't want to suddenly find myself
surprised at being mortal:
and... doubly surprised at being unable
to give up... what i've worked up towards!
life... spare me: give me just a little...
   and let me allow death no satisfaction when
it comes to rounding up the loan of life...
              have my books... have my shashka of
a wooden branch i made to look like... a Cossack sword...
have my stamp collection... have my collection
of banknotes...
          one thing... eternity... and those 72 rottweilers...
well... dobermanns... Alsatians...
all three... and i need plenty of forest...
fields... hills... mountains even... to just go:
******* and stroll with these dogs...
          i'll give death everything i own for that...
and... could you... sort of...
you can take my phallus away...
but can you ensure i have at least one diarrhoea
sit down... i mean: taking a **** sometimes
feels better than an *******...
  that'll be nice... no... i don't need the idea of eating...
just taking a ****... i can't forgive eternity not allowing
me to... (a) take a dog for a walk...
(b) taking a ****...
    i don't need to eat... i hate eating because:
i hate chewing anything beside poultry meat,
cartilage and bones... oh... i go right down to the bone...
the moveable angle parts... not the long-staff parts...
just the "heads" of the bones...
   but chewing... in general...
   sit down... relax... ah... a chocolate smoothie!
a chocolate slush-puppy... ooze: Hamza!
   Hamza! bring in Ibrahim!
                              i'm already too tired with this
libido insomnia... i'm starting to think that...
the NIQAB is a good idea...
i'm seeing too much raw meat...
             and: it's not counter-intuitive...
i like the tease of form within the confines of tight
yoga pants... ***** like peaches...
but... when it's all in the outright open...
yawn... bore... there's a routine involved...
               exercise... aphrodisiacs of white wine...
     i tend to forget the batteries for a hard-on...
like: auto-,
           it's not mystery i thought;
hmm... let's bypass this cultural practices and go
for something... orthodox...
blacklisted... money on the table...
            hook up hook on you:
let's go fishing...
                     you're not into eating fish?!
not one of those Presbyterians?!
             by now... does... it even having to have
to matter?
           black boyos just leaving
a load of ketchup in their currency
of the current rap: sing-along...
              fudge-packing ego...
                    ha ha... idea being:
you send the same African hot-rods into Africa...
among Africans...
             the tribe leader... sold
your ancestors...
because: you weren't equipped
to run the marathon...
             yeah... but Dua Lipa is... Albanian...
what does it mean? it means:
she's not Russian...
                             party ******* central...
sure... hence: i party...
in the underground... because:
the overt-crowd of cultural presence
is... eh... sort... sort of boring...
                  rain's more exciting...
everyone acknowledges that trans-racialism
exists and that it's wrong...
i just need my licence...
to become the proper gorilla: bouncer...
to the point of: showing my knuckles and telling
someone: **** / kiss this.

working around the hyper-real... it was such a good idea,
to get rid of the natural grass and put "fake" grass
in the sections of the garden that required some greenery,
oddly enough: the fake doesn't feel like fake...
now i have a problem: i don't require a lawnmower...

i might need the leaf-blower to sometimes get rid
of leaves from the grass...
    the work is going slowly along... Sisyphus style...
but one tonne of sand... one tonne of pebbles...
working with the kango... working with that levelling
beast of a machine...
   father was working on the nitty-gritty detail of the slab
area for the table and bbq...
it's looking pretty...
          
so i was watering the flowers... some hanging...
i was watering the apple trees... the rhubarb that
went a-wall with these massive leaves...
the fig tree... the ferns... etc.
   after i watered all of my garden and started
talking to myself...
should i record this? no... i don't think the world
is deserving of this message...
i'll be speaking to the night and its phantoms...
i'll be speaking to conjure up a wind...
ha! "fame"... i'm passing through...
          i even managed to sing a little:
hieroglyphs in the sand...
hieroglyphs on papyrus and on the sphinx's
forehead... blah blah...

Tom Waits' Quixotic ramblings...
   a true retrospection...
               i'm not going to record any of this...
i'm a very private person...
mind you: this affair of me existing requires: ARBEIT...
work... i'm not after the easily accessible route...
for the people who ingest my productivity
to simply sit back...

it feels like an Infected Mushroom sort of drinking
session...
Muse Breaks... I'm the Supervisor...
hell... Bukowski wrote about the drudgery of work...
me? you ever spent your youth...
your 20s... figuring out how you didn't
encounter a monotheistic deity?
    
    die großatem?  wind and wind are interchangeable
when crossing borders between
spitfires and the messerschmidts...
    ****: messerschmitts...
  großluft... the angel-singing disperser...
tell that to someone who's 21 to shut the **** up...
i shut the **** up... i went missing for
about 10 years...

the great-breath...
                   my eyes opened and i was no longer
living in this world:
i began passing through it...
my eyes are still open... it's unlike any
hallucinogenic drug i could ingest...
i began my contemplating through the ears
and i still do...
by i see differently...

i was never going to record what i say
in private: to myself and the night...
it has become obvious to me:
once it was the abuse of power...
now... it's an abuse of technology...
and that's apparent... people have managed
to create a technology to abuse people
who in turn abuse the technology...
a synthetic alternative to ******* drugs...

to blink is equivalent to checking the screen
of your smartphone...
i remember the good old days of the internet...
do you think men do a lot of internet shopping?
personally... i'd love to return to the old
music store and the bicycle shop...
i will never get an order via an UBER or
JUST-EAT... i know someone will not eat...
what are the major complications of human
economics?! the solution begins with confiscating
the human libido...
but since capitalism has become rampant...
******* coupled with mass immigration:
somehow pointless jobs emerge...
well... not pointless...
but they're not jobs with the equivalence
for surgeons or dentists...

     that one time i thought: so why are these nurses
lining up to a singing contest?
they truly want to become mince meat
in the entertainment industry?!

i don't have the qualifications...
but i've been through some rough shifts...
"rough": ******* shifts...
i've heard of several instances of people
people let go...
me?! no interview... straight on the books...
i'm an employee...
the rest of the ******* are self-employed...
why? that question lasts about 2 seconds
before i realise...
   oh right... i'm good at my job...

i'm waiting for the time when the Wembley team
will want me to join them...
turns out i'm somehow an ambitious man...
im also post-psychotic...
so... danger danger...
     i've seen the horrors of a Bates Motel, sort of...
and i'm like... nothing human is alien to me...

Bukowski and the drudgery of work...
yeah... i have worked with some weirdos...
i don't mind... 10 years away from proper
civil contact with strangers...
i'm a fish in water...
                        
   this supervisor role... normal people have
this idea that they have advanced...
no... no you haven't...
i take the approach: you're below the pawns...
do you understand? i always ask them without asking...
you're below them...
a supervisor is a role below a stewards role...
you haven't been elevated to a status
of supervisor... you have become demoted to
a lesser role... because? how doesn't it work:
via ratios 1:16... contra 16:1?

             yet some people "feel promoted":
you're not promoted as a supervisor...
you're demoted...
                 me? i kept my stewards happy...
you want water? sure thing... i'll bring you a bottle
of water... you want coffee?
milk no sugar? sure..
   by the way... when the main act begins...
i talked to the kiosk guy...
   he told me that they throw all the burgers away...
can my stewards have these burgers?
no problem...
              happy: *******: campers... Yogi bear to tow...

i don't even have the ******* paperwork...
but i get ****** these roles...
even one coworker started looking at me ugly:
but i've been doing this for X number
of years... recently a mate of mine was
fired from the company...
i said: ****-all...
       but i sort of figured out...

oh right.. Mark vs. Mark...
      the part where he insulted him... insinuating he
was a homeless person?
    that part?! i had nothing to do with it...
in my head i was thinking...
either of these Marks doesn't have
a leg to stand on... they're both tooth-fairies
since they have such bad dental hygiene...
but one thinks he's above the other
yet the two are in a crab-bucket... but only
one knows it...

that's how you supervise...
**** me... 6 months in... 6 months more...
i need to get out...
no NVQ 3 stewarding *******...
just the level 2... but i'm already filling in...
better practice at public speaking...
i'll make a great teacher...
i'm eyeing up jealousy building up...
what's next? i sieve through more *******
i become a manager?

   then again: i don't want to teach chemistry:
i want to teach English...
i fell in love with the Dead Poets' Society and i can't
let go...

all these supposed problem cases...
woman supervisor... two female stewards...
what a transformation...
all it took was giving one some chips
to keep up sugar levels...
while with the other... just walking up to her:
asking her: are you happy?
everything good?
you want to take a break?
   take a break...

women invented ******... naturally women
are "****"... who is responsible for
who is allowed / not allowed to reproduce?!
men?!
ha ha...                   ah ha ha...

it's ****** into us... we had to find: THINKING...
ENTERTAINING... PHILOSOPHICAL...
mathematical...
if we all managed to **** to later become
fathers... seriously, you think?!
maybe that's why the rest of "us" start to love
drinking and also start to love scribbling
Ovid nuances...

sober women writing poetry:
             they're ******* force-fed adorations that
are not even remotely justified...
just... expected... because they are sourced
from ****...
    i like to source elsewhere...
             and not poetry: onomatopoeias...
pleasuring a woman like it might
be a door opening... creaking...
              a broken consonant on a hinge of a vowel...

i love working...
   i love the tired feet.. i love catching the last bus home
at after 1am...
    i love it... give me an axe and a square mile of forest:
you want a clearing?! give me a week...
maybe that's why i don't have time
for girlfriends... maybe that's why i can only
entertain prostitutes...

sure... last time it happened i was entertaining
two at the same time...
i couldn't replicate any of the *****-flics...
i couldn't be both **** and mouth...
i needed one to **** me off
into the other one's ****...
lazy? no... but i was working with Bourbon
and tobacco was the stiffening chemical...
so... no... no movie...

tomorrow comes and i know that i need to change
the rub-rub rubber of my breaks...
and how i need to change the tape on my handlebars...
and how tomorrow London will
be it's most beautiful...
and how you can add avocado into a sandwich...
as long as it's not merely avocado on toast...
but...
mingling with a chilli... a pepper...
green olives stuffed with almonds...
or pickled cucumbers...
   lodged either side of some cheese and meat...
lodged between two: cool... brown-based
buns of oat and pseudo-rye and probably wheat...

and how just finding about
KLAUS SCHULZE's - DEUS ARRAKIS (2022)
feels sort of like...
first watching Stanley Kubrick's
a SPACE ODYSSEY...
             because there are these immediate parallels
in the realm of postmortem...
               and because the night is a heaven
to behold... with all the critters and the foxes...
with all that demands a sleep within the confines
of a day...

the last message i sent Alice:
KLAUS SCHULZE - DEUS ARRAKIS (2022)...i'm currently listening to it... you have to break your patience... up to and including the 17th minute... after the 17th minute it's all downhill... sort of Brian Eno style with the Dune Soundtrack... Alice... dearest... i work my ******* off with what i write... you think you can entertain an audience with a flimsy "spare" of "thought"? i've been working on this ******* since 2005... now count the years... Alice... you approach the world as you have... i'll be the nice one... the rest of the world with ******* regurgitate you... i have seen how hierarchies work... they're not pleasant events when you need to bite your teeth and forget to have ownership of a tongue... please don't become more hurt because of the beauty that you are: serving the naivity of: what's best underserving in children: having to be falsely translated into adults...  as might be the conversation between Seth and Thoth... dearest creature... un-labour yourself with your imaginary dictates... you will never match to what i am surrendering to!

the old face returned to the mirror
and almost instantly the melancholy lifted
and i stood reborn
in the wine of gravity
and of vanity
and it became so simply to obviously
so simply obvious
that it had to be right
that going to the Turkish barber
is like getting a ******* from
a wife
and i'm just burning my eyes out
i mean i'm burning my eyes
i'm scratching at them
if ever she might think i'm infidelity
personified
and i will not use of "right"
since no consequence of will
to balance the right to
and the right from
i.e. the evil and the good
and the good and evil
i have the right to breathe
but no will to life
but then a will to life returns
and i wonder just
now about Nietzsche's un-kept moustache
and i think of the weather
in England in June
and if this is summer this is the worst
Scandinavian summer
because in Sweden
there is a midsummer and a summer a twilight
and the white knights of St Petersburg
because i know that
there are the keys and gates
to St Peter's Gates
in St Petersburg
and not in Rome
not in the basilica of St Peter
but in a city of St Peter
and that is in Russia
and i think that's where i was
and oh god i look
**** again
because ****** hair
does not belong on a man's neck
like it doesn't belong
on a woman's feet
shins to be exact
and not on her face
and not in her arm pits
but sure as ****
i love to slurp a furry oyster
like i might be
the white man killing
the hairy elephant away
for having enough food to do
to do
a do of burning wood
to keep coo coo
a cooing a sensation of the fuckery
of backgammon and chess
and card
and other video games
and i was in the girl
talking about Roblox
and Play-station 1
and playing Metal Gear Solid
and Tenchu
and oh boy boy boy boy
no, sorry, girl, Reyla...
do you know how much time
you are wasting
by the modern gaming torture?
this is torture i remember
gaming like it was a narrative
a narrative sport
unlike the sports of hunting ducks
with spaniels
or fishing
i hear men disgruntled with the bread
and the circuses
and i see them hating going to football
seeing it turn into
a secular religion (gap and throw me
a bone
when i go to an event
twice as drunk as if
but really tugging my children with me
to keep me awake
now i think of the sudden rush
of exquisiteness
a piquant sharp
chilly sauce no hot towel
no i'm not here to relax
will finish watching Breaking Bad
with dad
and i will make Slavic schnitzel
and misery of cucumber and dill
and maybe onion
maybe the spring ones
oh jeez the **** is back the **** jaded
**** is back
resurrected
what of that un-kept mustard-gas...
mustard-gas...
mustard-gas... moustache..
    attache... mustard-gas attache...
but Martin now Merlin
does not remember me
he remembers Kamil -
now i'm thinking this is pair bonding
and this German philosopher on
youtube...
technology, internet...
authenticity "vs" profilicity -
i.e. the art of profiling
self
others
oneself
and others

my selves and my nouns
and my grammatical bumps
and skids
a road
a road to far away
i

i was just thinking about including
England in the Scandinavian
League
from Medieval Times
given that North Englanders
have more Viking blood in them
than South Englanders
which have more of the Swiss Bloodline...
from their reading of history
and close associations with
the Europe the Union
the Chains
i mean North England is like Wales
and who knows where the boundaries
lie
of this new sprout Kingdom
of which, i, Jarl and customs' manager
wonder in clue huh clue huh
the crows of england
fly in mythology
of Huginn and Muninn
which is while the crows
of the continent fly
in thracks - throngs....
          in market places: a carnival of flesh
flesh of the feasts of war
now subdued and no longer
heroic
like heroism and idealism (except for that French
dualism of *** on Descartes' table
cushion me
dearest teacher, the secrets...

            the crows of Odin
fly above England
while the crows of Barbarossa fly
over the Continent of Europe...

   ᚠᛄᚢᛏ

                    ᚦᚩ-

              (                   ­              ᚬ ą)


:) :) :) :) :) the apple machine forgot
to press ******* keyboard to find
the letter... ᚬ ą -
missing on Apple Machines...

                                                -ᚱᚴ
­
some ungrateful son am i
while grandfather was alive
Martin was the Prodigal Son
and upon his return
squandered his prodigy
in that he didn't once
lift a book to read
or write with finger
or clean his father's room after his death
and i did that
and now my mother went back
to the house of her childhood
and she can no longer
smell the death and museum of her
father
that i cleaned
that i cleaned
and i think that's why there was so much
shock upon mother returning
and "confronting" my grandmother
because that's now
not a case of Edie and her mother
and my mother and her mother
because now i have four mothers orbiting
me Miroslaw and Reyla
Miroswav...
     Miroswav

          SWAV

                SWAVA POLAYA
niet nad K
clan
klej
              klątva!

a curse upon my family! a curse upon my lineage
Martin knows who
i am i have been unmasked in the visions
of history and monotheism and the journey
of one particular god
who can forget
because not a universe god is he

          i am CAIN

i am the reincarnation of CAIN
    i have the mark on my shoulder blade
the right shoulder blade
where my wing was clipped
i waited and waited
in line to sing or say something in the court of
kings
and then someone clipped my wing
like picking up a telephone

and reincarnation can only happen
in the confines of monotheism
is they are pre-history of recorded cognition
and that does not allow
the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
it forbids it
it is a MAJOR HERESY
to even "think" and even THINK
that the reincarnation of Jesus Christ
is possible...
a reincarnation of Cain
Adam Abraham
yes...
but not even Moses!
not even Moses!

i.e. a Time of the Reincarnation
of the Illiterate
beginning with Muhammad!
ah! he he he ha ha ha he he he ha!
he's the first prophet!
Muhammad is the first prophet
if monotheism is to ever
reconcile itself with polytheism
and the polytheistic "reality"
of reincarnation!

imagine a time and the distant future
of the old figures of the old testament
being resurrected /
reincarnated
to write their own accounts...
easy: just imagine Cain writing a book
just imagine Abraham writing a book
just imagine Isaac writing a book
just imagine...
for a while...
Jesus was pushing the tradition
of saying but writing nothing
that tradition died with Socrates
and that's what ******* the Jewish intellectuals
at the time
and that was that...
Jesus took it for granted and so lazy
to think him illiterate
seriously?
Socrates had no audacity in old age
just old age
but for Jesus to imitate Socrates
in some airy-fairy sort of way
by sign language of the crucifix
rather than jumping mental hoops of arguments
and self-aversions

no... i didn't go and chase up chasing
the wheel in Whitechapel today
or trying to break into a Mosque like i might
want to break into Wembley
tomorrow
but i'm working so
now i look the part
but instead i thought better for the barber
and "stock up"...

   the Mosque can wait the wheel can wait
Ezekiel can't rise up since
he probably wrote
not even Isaiah
but perhaps Elijah
and perhaps there will be no horror
if anyone: echo! echo! echo!
did Elijah write anything? anything? anything?

there's not even the remotest question
of me "sobering up"...
rather a case of me unthinking the need for
the use of letters...
even with these seemingly wax
eyes
of being strained to black and white
like strobe light glittering diamond
in darkness
but if i lift my eyes up
there is nothing but the grey of the day

ah! message to idea
one selfie two selfie
just to look peacock and *****
for her too
looking **** sexed-up and sober
yes just relieved myself
by writing this...
so... yeah...
there was a thought at the beginning
of this:
i'll make sure to message Edie
about it...

             wife, *****, personal secretary,
something along those lines
form penance for going to church
like penance in Islam is a woman
wearing a Niqab
then the equivalence is
women going to Church...
so barbaric and foreign and backwards
and that's the fertile ground
for Christianity since
its culminated failure at the Zenith
of **** Paganism
a revival of the Myth of Lithuania
but fertile ground enslaving Africa
and South America
is not really because there's a Missing Spanish Link
i.e. this can't be referenced in England
but must be exported for a review
to a neutral ground...
no idea...
but since the histories of England
and Spain are so intertwined
well... there is just too much history at times
when there's something specific
about to be optically stressed in
either wording esp in wording somewhere
in painting
which belongs in galleries
and not on papers
in wallets
on stick 'em along lines of walls
and sometimes: no labyrinths
so straight infinite avenues
where no one really meets anyone
so unlike a shared labyrinth
a confiscating labyrinth of both self
and other self
since parallel to us the other and the other other...

p.s.
Hans-Georg Moeller...
notable mention
notable mention...
just wondering what
German phrases to learn
for tomorrow
but chances are
i'll be with the Spaniards
so it won't be much
fun not entertaining
the Borussia Dortmund
fans
although i hope i wish
and certainly on the egress
cordon at DC3 on
Olympic Way...
blah blah...
we'll see, we'll tomorrow is another
another

        some                     other

this business
of writing leaves me melancholic
at best
and melancholic at worst
this talk of mothers
and of grandmothers
how to succumb to
the godfather myth-os
of the unobjectionable
NOT
Y tall:
tail: I
THAI - LEAN
closer... poke poke
peek a'boo
why not the I-THAI-LYAN
not some geriatric society
of a Lama let
alone a Dalai...
          or maybe: mmm...
on a hunch on a whimsical
transverse
to these comments
in the newspaper print
really pass off as human-speak
or is that
simply a speak of a spoken
to or a spoken of
a speaking without a sense
that could level a mountain range
from peering eyes
teary, abandonment...
replicate her game with first
husband
backgammon:
once dice are invoke
what sort of game is it?
could backgammon become
the equivalent of chess
given the pieces are checkers
and if politician lied
when why am i not to lie
but then again
i tell terrible lies
and i'm always non-confrontational
and it's not like i need
therapy in order to speak
but god this not so mighty
new-atheism and a concern
for... humanistic aesthetic appreciation
society?
by god there is no god
we wage war against man
with nature in the abode!
but no...
                  now i'm melancholic
because i write
and i stomach a mother
not able to interact with her mother
and that makes my uncle
a singing prince of doo'dah
and do-little
and that's all fine: supposedly
it's just a question of who gets what
and if he should not get his well
earned share
of no share
just him then
this is like a bad phrasing of
what communism
sought from tsars
and now what communism, pseudo-economics
dictates of
cripples who NEED
to share with fellow men
like crab buckets are not crab
buckets
and even the insistence of Edie
jeez... something like this came
up i'd step back and
miasma...
        i see no life in this world as
some idealized fascination
with privy to:
a teenage boy's dream
this is no dream this is a savage
environment
and we have been duped
enough to see that how man
passed judgement subjective
at first then as cold god
objective on a wink and wince
then a return to the satanic
pulling and stretching
trying to figure out two mating
serpents with that similarity
to snails
and why not the snail
why the snail so oblivious
like kite
or rather like: there's no wind
or rather like:
if serpents are lizards
and snails
are motivated fungi...
let's say...
the parody of cutting meaning up
into compartments
and restraints
then i wonder...
because i honestly do wonder
with an O and an ah and an oh
and a sigh
i do woo myself to woe
with wonder
how, so very little...
escapes the grasp
of people with an innate
ontological retardation
as to which i also ask: what is ugly...
what is art is not necessarily
the beauty that can be
bypassed and yawned at
but what is art and ugly and self-inquiring
of itself
and as much: for the other...
and that's where
i find my resting bones
and an agitation to sleep this day
off...

n.b. / p.s.
tomorrow i'll be heading toward
Whitechapel
with a wheel found in Ezekiel's brain
fidgeting
a definition of: what it is to not feel cold
or maybe iron will be deciphered
as something associated
with the boiling point of water
and when you fly from London
to Cracow
you will see these massive
plots
of salt farming... closest to the sea
these plots of zoo azure
clean cut mirror
not white not silver
but somehow all two...
and how there's a diet of words
and language ingested
and how there isn't
and then you think back
to a third person
that later describes itself in all
honesty of: i, i, i...

and then...
there's the mortal reach
and a mortal breach
and then a cool
confiscating o-nothing.