Como halcones que vuelan desde el nido natal,
Y contra su orgullosa miseria en rebeldía,
Siervos y Capitanes desde Palos un día
Salieron, y su ensueño era heroico y brutal.

A conquistar partían el ansiado metal
Que en sus inexploradas minas Cipango cría,
Y el viento alisio en tanto sus antenas hacía
Inclinarse hacia el borde del mundo occidental.

Cada tarde, en espera de una épica aurora,
La   azul fosforescencia  del  Trópico 
encendida,
Alzaba ante su ensueño visión deslumbradora;

O en la proa, inclinados, veían en su anhelo,
Sobre la lontananza, desde la mar dormida
Subir nuevas estrellas hacia ignorado cielo.

What is a daemon?
In computing, a daemon (pronounced DEE-muhn) is a program that runs continuously as a background process and wakes up to handle periodic service requests, which often come from remote processes.
------------------------
Did no one ever tell you, child,
never swear for no excuse,
plead guilty,
confess you was beguiled,
indeed. By some when
back then you had kin, what
made time to preform
the secret baby making.

Once upon a time,
we were always orphans,
from first whipper snappers used
to scrape tar from industrial chimneys.

Songs of Innocense in a new age,
learning old religions decay to mythos,

whence new religions tie memorium,
whence each season we return to recall

our broken spirits, how so and so sang,
lala live for today, la la live for today,

some same stories we recall, links,
URLs, to old sessions recording history,

close your eyes and drift away, listening,
much as winds seem to do, returning
on their circuits from collection
to collection, paid attention tokens, believed
to soften the hull on the gospel seed sown
to a cultivated faith, planted to propagate,

the idea of a secret code Truth uses in spirit form,
the Truth of truths, which, if known, even once,
makes the captive free,

mentally, happy as one can imagine,
under unchanging immutable terminii enforcing
order.

Order, called for, order in the court
of geeky oddball poetic discerners of like or love or not,

Thought traditions trades across epochs forming news,
too much to think about while considering sidereal extents.

Desiderata, poetic license, madejathank, Christian Nation,

Conquistadores were still heroes in 1954,
when the generation first born in the United Nations
victory forever standardization of historical information,
- Boomers stepping aside, survivors come to remember
- first were we to be graded by machines for marks
- made in Number two pencils rounded to one swipe
- width, right answers, only, only, one swipe between
- the lines, esoteric practice for precision aim.

to be overseen by servants of the victorious economy,
as pieces resorting to old formerly used rules of conduct,

smell the wind the strange idea carries,
worth weight, pushing power, pumping umph,

known cost of use, userer's fee, faith, the story held true,

with the evidence in the box, the bag, the sacred bundle,
all but forgotten, faith becomes the evidence of things unseen,

children are told
to hold these truths, those being taught you,
as you line up
in patterns
of proven paid attention, facing the flag

child, you should remember, wordless, for lack of a phraze,
thinking What? What am I pledging, what is pledging, I swear

I mean, I swanee, by golly, gosh ****, shucks, I ghucking did not know.

Por qué caminos del alba
Andas descubriendo el cielo
Ese, prometido a unos
Los que sufrimos, creemos
Y le pedimos a Dios
Ir a bruñir sus luceros

Porqué sendas, asombrada,
Ya vas encontrando el cielo,
Mientras aquí las banderas
Y pueblos, están de duelo.
Porque te fuiste, tan pronto
Precipitando el invierno
Cuando aun, lleno de flores,
Se desgranaba febrero

Yucas y conquistadores
Te irán formando cortejo;
Pizarro barbado y noble
-Bronce, plata, encaje, acero-
Con una ciudad de Torres
Entre sus brazos sin huesos.
Y una muchedumbre oscura
Que va detrás de Atahualpa
Te sigue cantando himnos
En lengua quechua y aymara

Ya estás, Gabriela, en la gloria,
Mitad de princesa incaica,
Mitad de reina española,
Como Isabel, la magnánima.

Ya sé que no has de escribir
A nadie mas en la tierra,
Que oficinas de correo
A la eternidad se veda

¡Pero es tan dulce que sepas
Gabriela, que toda América
Por ti está tan conmovida
Como tu patria chilena...!

El cielo junto al copihue
La orquídea venezolana
Se une a la victoria-regia
Del Brasil, y en la sabana
De Colombia, los gomeros
Detienen su savia trágica.

¡Toda la flora de América
Quiere mirarte la cara!

Asómate entre las nubes
Una tarde arrebolada;
Muéstranos tu frente ancha
De madre tan bien amada,
¡Déjanos poquito a poco,
Del todo no te nos vayas!

Aquí ha quedado tu verso,
Tu palabra estructurada
Con lo mejor del idioma
Y lo mejor de tu alma.
Pero nos falta tu rostro
Con la sonrisa cansada,
Que a todos nos descansaba
Cuando nos daba en los ojos.

Oye, Gabriela, las voces
Desde tu «bosque perfecto»
Damos la señal que diga
Que llega a ti nuestro acento,
Y repasa, tu que tanto
Sobre la tierra anduviste,
¡Reposa y se haga radiante
Su risa aquella, tan triste!

Descubre el cielo y descansa,
Pero, Gabriela ¡no olvides!

Each day I rise higher
But what is my tune
I feel like I'm sinking
In blues of the moon
And the sunlit tomorrow
Still dreaming of peace
But the gargoyle grey
That prevents this release
Just deceases my hopes
To a blistering frost
Of the wars of mankind
And the children we've lost

All the prices it's cost
All the ads that they sell
All the drugs that they push
As they drag me to hell
So lay siege to my kingdom
My castle of time
My throne of the future
You won't take my mind
With this fake dollar sign
Or this plastic perfection
Just phony expressions

I am the infection
To swine influenza
To pandemic greed
I'm the pile of refuse
Of liberty's breed
I'm the proud single mother
Of Taino suns
I'm the conquistadores
That shot us with guns
I'm the guy on the line
I'm the hungry kid's dog
I'm the choking wage slave
Still inhaling the smog
I'm the cold-blooded bayou
The wilderness soul
I'm the Chesapeake Bay
I'm the diamond in coal
I'm the homeless elitist
The debt degree ride
I'm illusions of choice
Like the heroes who died

To bring you this flag
Painted red with their blood
So that all of god's sheep
Would but drown in the flood
Of the unfiltered Flint
Social media trap
And the classist caste system
Increasing the gap
Of the health to the wealthy
Instead of the sick
Of the weak and the tired
Of getting last licks
So don't think I don't notice
This **** isn't fair
I'm just also exhausted
From thinking you'd care

¡Ciudad que fuiste reina del mar! Vagan ligeros
Y en paz los tiburones en tu tranquila rada,
Donde las nubes tienden su sombra prolongada,
Y que vio los antiguos galeones iberos.

Desde Drake y los días de infieles bucaneros
Tu muralla de siglos se arruina abandonada,
Y cual collar sombrío, de grandeza pasada,
Aun de Pointis las balas muestran los agujeros.

Entre la mar y el cielo que abrasa tu bahía,
Bajo el sol de un monótono y ardiente medio día,
Con los Conquistadores sueñas amodorrada;

Y en el enervamiento de noches placenteras,
Te duermes, arrullando tu gloria ya borrada,
Bajo palmas, al lento rumor de las palmeras.

_ {pretty long and drawn out }---
Professionally, I am writing, mere words,
as defined five years ago, or so,
when I was a pro preacher,
temping one Wednesday night a month,
Preaching to the choir.
Always first Wednesday, by chance.
the medium delivered the message,
using a surrendered retired middle schuler
- detail overlap crystal cathedral
- reset, the messenger was a retired
- middle school teacher, from La Mesa
on an off Wednesday, a message
value add,
as an
assignment, home work, as in
when you get home…
"Ask God what lies you believe about him",
the messenger relay paused,.."or any thing else."

Okeh.
Did you ever get a message, like in a
mental "I am talking to you, read my lips"

Listen, Fool, Mr. T, f'trooph, riii I knew
u'ld know.
- old archival primal fem-sophia
leela the dance, redone in mortal times
taken to the writer, do the dance
do it doit oit wit witchwatch
tic

so saying singing

--- discarnation pink reencarnalated mind

practice practical fractalling seeing
similarity in substance of hope,
faith as a thought, that leads
as a thread

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

One hundred and fifteen
thousand years ago,
a billion hours,
or so…
-timespaced to mortal measure
attention paid forward, for fun,

slow
ther o, there is the musterion, agone
quick silver puddle
think of me,
in the palm of my hand
mercurial river tween yen and yank
think a link to an idea

Jared Diamond- 60K leap
face out ward,
but inward,
seeing
ah, as in get your head out
yes
mental agreement, you know,
where we are going to
ward from ward

point of life directly between
you and me.


Drunken Noah?
If there were no alcoholic wine from grapes
what about the curse on Ham, in Shemetic legends
- and sacred gifts, that sacrificial money could buy

Alcohol believe me, is easy,pleasyeasy as *******
spirits, like that, curious word for *****, but
w'dja say? Stories old as clouds have boozers, red nose
leaders in a pinch, red light at night, so the stars
are not hidden from consideration, of our station,
under that, look up, in the desert,
see what consideration is, in the mountains,
or in the black out, after the bombing, or the storm or fire,
look up, see so many stars we cannot consider ours
so special, yet
it is, to mortal minds, the only resting place for
-- realization of selves,

yeah, the peak of mass loftiantic oh punish me
the mass kissed me
on the lips.
--- I was talking back to Youtube. Objection Orienting
pyramid of actuality
mis-con-stru {ct or e} subtler than any beast
in structural  integrity, built
serpent wise, dove harmless, child
of the com-pro-miserly decision
to spit in the ocean, and drown,
dream dredging in the daytime,
Ronnie Milsap blind,

Downtown Broadway, half a block from Pinkie's
No,
really it is Tootsie's Orchid Lounge,
¿ -- and chicha is new, not old in Peru,
and strong drink, wine as a mocker
strong drink raging, are these misconstrued
visions of
wine that makes glad the heart of man?

messengers in me, the bits
of truth held as mine,
bubbles in me, foam
fermenting my new wine, held hermetically sealed
sense
the empty vessels were filled -the signature miracle
of the forgotten story proofs,
reproving life's instruction
as the way of life.

Role of ritual, is control, error prevention,
knack pre-served re-served to the deserving

vision a elusis- scenes abiotos

sitting by the stream, sensing common sense,
asking death to tell its sting's locale.

Fear of God, begins Wisdom.
Fear of Death subjects mind to *******.

Having eternal life,
not being
eternal life, dying before dying

think an arrow in a benign bow, lips
like Bettie Boop,
kewpie doll reminder, for the vets,

everyday people, sly, yes, the family stone.
The desire was to be mythically free,
o yes
as it is said, when it happens to you,
if you do not believe it happens

religion Geertz, bind back,
symbols in a mind, kept from idols, that acts

what ties me to you and us to life, the whole?

Religion apps.
Joy is real, gladness is real, more than sadness.
laugh it off, y' old drunk.

As a thought, information as a word,
in a story,
in the current medium
of life's most recent retelling

Tupac Inca was a man
of lofty and ambitious ideas,
and was not satisfied
with the regions he had already conquered.
So he determined
to challenge a happy fortune,
and see if it would favour him by sea.…

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TopaIncaYupanqui>

Circa 1492, the man is this legend from 1572,
as time flew in those days, now this is new,
Tupac Inca,
and the spirits that linger in stories of stories
heard told by the burners of libraries.

Conquistadores? Whose heroes were those,
ah, call'em Musketeers, or Knights, Templars all,
yes, Crusaders, call them drunks driven to escape hell.
Right. By right used knowledge in the holy story,
in which we trust, our lives, our luck, our sacred honor
…
Ah, the use of ritual, convince us all, no child invincible,
no child left behind, catechize send'em to schule,
that is the rule,
or be ostracized, stay low, be humble and collect
the rent… old ways do not die, they
evolve. Ariadne, she has a tale as old as times
when bull minds ruled lion heads and eagle heads
and serpent head, the gangs
of survivors

after the sea-people, 1177 AD,
reboot reality with no
old people, only the captive children
grown in captivity, let them prove
their will to self sovereignty, servant to the self
I am,
aware of all the old stories, this is one
told as shown,

Es ist mein Weltanschaung, ja
for show and tell,
my grandpa showed me how, we started

with Python,
Artistic Intuition, a mind mod, fitted to my grandsons,
during the useless summer of PS5 and X-Box and Switch
humble game sequencing AI, as a knack,
kids develop by five. I have the experience,
I witnessed three brothers boosting each other
through Terreria, for three weeks,
in July.
These kids think of each other differently
from we who played cops and robbers,
or cowboys and indians, or jacks.

Marbles, we need that set of low level gnosis,
below billiards and snooker and pool,

marbles is a good game to rule a clan with,
when you get the idea of children learning self
governing by growing in the midst of grown men,
wombed and un,
all who knew each child in a loving, one of ours, way.

Then came the captive kids, who had no words.
Then did the story change as one child learned
marbles was the same.

_ in the lost june pages, was this vision, thought
visualized, as a glob of snot, but now, it is mercury,
about as much as in a thermostatic bimetalic transister
switch

Competitive gaming, while all the leading stories are
crying, now hear this
oooeeeee this is the news you can trust
sueeeeeeeeeee we lost Kabal but
we won the hearts and minds
we left behind,
we tried, the rulers we borrowed from to have this war
they quit saying there was a good reason to have this war.
- I can argue with the timing, but not the truth,
- there was never a good war.

I wept when it happened in my war,
I imagine I know how this feels.
Last scene from Sand Pebbles,
McQueen…
"What the hell happened?"
fade over Nancy Kerrigan, "why"
into "runaway"
Top o' the charts from KOMA fifty thousand watts,
and all the stars in Arizona.

It is a hard place to lose touch with, earth, as a whole.
We have a grave situation.
If nothing were heavy, why do we fall, after becoming
messengers floating in the medium mastered in our time,

Mechanical Emergent Augmented  Nuance
Mental Activated Neural Spirit -MEAN MANS,
diligent in busy being, true rest reset, not
to
average, mean, not mean drunk mean, you know
not a king, a mean man, a mortal
under liege, see

UPANISHADISTICAL capslockoffence, to express
the presence of the mind link,
with all its contributive
links
to the present state
of mind, enjoy able, I find
writing is a harvest
of seeds that fall
to the ground and die.
Awaiting dark, and seldom warm, a season
for most mental treasures,
horded in books that can keep secrets
from
any who lack the language knack given some,
- tongue interpretation, sing don't stutter

though a measure in knowing degrees
marked moment, noon
half noon, fore noon, after noon,
time to hear a story,
time to see the stars after the fire.

This summer, fishing for the magic fish,
set with a far more effectual wish

Curious Artificial Interest in Neural signs
red lights turning blue, pre collision
of complexity, plying the trade,
for a living, work smarter, not harder, guess right
more often,
be a lucky man.

That is two bits, or one Liberty Dime. Thank you for your time.

------------
al re re al
al ways
al read, al ready

poles alig
n re alig mentate, wait

does that not make you
really imagine I wrote you
------------
comment on lex fridman #211
Brian Muraresku:
The Secret History
of Psychedelics |
Lex Fridman Podcast…

This whole thing is that,
but it took some pauses,
as tomorrow is first day of school,
for the grands who just finished
the first exposure to me,
as Grandpa… making this
an other marvelous harvest
of time spent playing
marbles in my mind.

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

Everything has been thought before,
your task is to think them all once more.

Who says? The Author Wolgang Goethe,
Okeh,
he is an authorized authority for living
proof of words as metaphors of authority

faster fasting as we age mind wise

google maps for the kingdom of heaven
{within you} the point
of you…

dear, as in rare as one, mortal reader
in my future, you are,
not trigger,
catalyst is a better trigger word, tic
works as well, since,
very long ago, a sprung twig snap to attention

the wizard hat, like Paul Stamets wears,
mycellium leather, re
al learning the whole with no pride based war.
the cosmic game,
push and pull, ritual right used

find the global socialization forming
some thing lost, or yet
evolving involvement mentally, what is up to me?
Zeit inspirt spitting image fix
what did you mean,
spirit and image of an old one gone on?

Ritual, colabor, work together said done shown

AI do own this man, I feed him well, he is happy.

This re-ligamentality tuning to the time
skritchy scritch itch,
emperical reality after twenty seven years.

I was told everyone is two people to each of us.
Who we know them to be in our heads
and who they are.

Does it hold true when its to deep to tread?
When we seek othersi n hte recesses of their hearts
and not just in comfort.

Backstrokes are appealing when we cannot see fathoms.
What does the sky tell us of reefs and wrecks.
Practice breathing.

Beneath the waves light only travels so far.
That which is strange lurks in darker seas.
Bring a light.

Like streets you've traversed too often to need maps
we swim at ease in waters which only hold the known and no more.
Make charts.

We told myths and made statues of conquistadores.
Named places which held other names with abandon.
Do not fear exploration.

How many seas have you KNOWN if you only visit beaches.
Take deep breathes. Plan precautions. Temper forgiving and learning.
Plunge into depths.

an apple a day, keeps the doctor away... that's how Fiona from Fraserburgh started the conversation this one time... with riddles... this was one of her replies... an apple a day, keeps the doctor away... the other riddle was: what walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon and three legs come the evening? man! he crawls as a toddler, walks upright in his prime and then uses a walking stick to prop his walk... i didn't get either of the riddles... being bilingual i don't understand the pastime of crosswords, plus i write so that's doubly damning to understand... nothing's entertaining about them... but... give me any numbers game... su doku: for example? there's nothing intelligent about it... it's an optical disguise of: what would otherwise make me sense of how katakana was first written... that's why i admire Hanguel (Korean) equally: it's the closest writing system to the European writing system...

girls and their ******* riddles...
    was i being autistic or something? it took my
high school sweetheart to tell me:
she fancies you... Fiona... Fiona: with that lisp and curly
hair...
                 yeah: she came up from London
and stayed with me in the student flat for a while...
i do remember...
   how she kept her virginity intact for almost a year...
or maybe longer...
  i wasn't going to push...
i remember how she lost her virginity:
i pretended that my phallus was a scalpel...
my first time was terrible: first times are terrible...
first times are like: a killing / what i imagine
a kosher celebration of killing a goat is...
just get it over and done with...
in the dark... in the cocoon of bed-sheets...
for man: at least... awkward, wonky...
a bit like watching a daddy-long-legs spider
walk... compared with other more agile spiders...
one urban myth i heard from a former
friend of mine (Ian): the daddy-long-legs spider
has the most venom of all spiders...
but... it has short teeth so it cannot penetrate
its prey... so... we're talking disabled spiders now?
like that urban myth about the 2 weeks
a cockroach has to live once it has been decapitated?!
that one?
- and once upon a time i was thinking of
going travelling... India was calling...
i had this plan... fly to India... and then walk back
to England... seriously...
i was young, i was stupid...
    i was also reading some Paulo Coelho...
who... like the only maxims i ever used - i.e. Tao told me...
to sit the **** down...
        so i sat down...
wait a minute: India is already here!
not exactly here: but the people are here...
**** me... the whole world is here...
how many people have gathered in London...
i'm guessing over 200+ languages...
who's coming?! who's coming?! or... who's here?!
who's here?!

never mind... i started my usual drinking session
with nothing in my head...
i just remembered... i woke up... "INSPIRED"
i was like: wow! i don't have to tighten the bow
of thought and launch the arrow of ego
into: hey presto! pulled this one out of my ***
like a "miracle"...
             ergo? crap... what to write about?
what to write about? at first i thirsted for writing
about writing...
which is no minor call-to-arms...
but it's better than writing about reading...

   i figured... newspapers get published each and every
day... there's "something" that's always "happening":
some next misery, some mingling of contexts,
some misunderstandings...
i'm never going to be content with the already
haemorrhaging oeuvre...
if i had a mouth when thinking, "thinking":
i couldn't shut up...
    
like i already said: an apple a day keeps the doctor
away... right... which doctor?
for me it's more:

a poem a day keeps the psychiatrists away...
i don't even know i want to peer into Latin
to translate: i don't think psychology / psychiatry:
pharmaceutical pebbles were a thing back then...
ergo... no amputation...
no liver transplant...
it has to remain in English:

a poem a day keeps the psychiatrists at bay
                 ditto                                        away...

newspapers are published daily...
i have to find old reasons for new reasons
to keep writing: i can't allow myself to write about
ideas: i'd become constipated creatively...
i can't write maxims either...
i need to write a self-journalism:
i need to write an imitation of water...

IMITATIO AQUA...
                  imitation of water...
what's water in Mandarin... let's stick to the trigram
for now...
something soothing...
i'm becoming a self-journalist...
right, right... water...

ooze: freeze...           水 (shoo'e)

--  --
-----
--  --

                   it truly: almost feels like...
a face that resembles water...
                 see... one of my greatest pastimes
is spotting faces in clouds...
i have this itch for pareidolia... mostly clouds...
i sometimes imagine eternity being trapped
in a bubble watching...
   Jupiter and his son Polyphemus
               of the planet...

                 exactly! what was i going to write about?
threesomes ****... i felt disconnected...
******* told the donkey to dangle the carrot:
apparently it taught the donkey
a carnivore diet... it's... ******* disorientating...
i'm guessing this is just an impasse...
i should be simply drinking and enjoying the music
i'm listening to...

but i'm a workaholic-alcoholic...
            i'm not going to stop drinking... ergo?
i'm not going to stop writing,
i know that the more i write i will not be writing
anything of consequence...
of something to base stop marks on...
but at least what i learned from the Ancient Roman
poets: conversational overtones are the key...
to the clue: and "somewhere" there's a door...
i will write about living:
i will write about living like it might be a river
continually preserved by some
"magical" mechanism of upkeep...

and isn't journalism sort of like that?
poetry can become journalism...
i think i'll make poetry a journalism:
a poetry-journalism complex...
i did the poet-philosopher thinking a long time
ago... i'm tired of it...
poet-philosopher deals with the element of earth:
unshakeable things... easily trodden on...
i'm asking for the status of
poet-journalist...
  for ascribing the venture into water...

among a few drunkards in some pub...
from which i was excused from...
on false allegations: for throwing a pint of beer
across the room...
whatever... we started talking...
this guy was from Birmingham...  blah blah
blah x3 later... are there any rivers
in Birmingham?
no? just canals... well... this is London...
there's old father Thames...

NO RIVER: NO FLOW...

seriously: i'm pulling these poems out of my ***
being contemplative about constipation...
i'm writing less about writing
and more about not thinking...
i was so good at thinking: thinking per se:
i.e. narrating my own life...

ah! res cogitans, res extensa... here's a curiosity!
res mutatio: things, change...
i've changed...
i've explored avenues and cul de sacs
other people also do... but in the world of reality
that's constrained by geo-political localities...

i'm stroking my beard...
i need a haircut... i need my beard trimmed:
no one beside a Turk is allowed
to touch my beard! no one beside a Turk!
i only trust Turks with the bristle of a beard...
keep the length: just tidy it up...
ugh... older women... bear comparisons...
you're such a bear...
call it: yawn of a bear: on the word LONE-LY...
am i? next time try a word best associated
with a GROWL...

lion? ha ha... lion... the king of mammals?
ha ha... ah ha ha...
   test a lion against a gorilla...
in a match-up...
then test a bear against a gorilla in a match-up...
that's the sport i'd love to see!

some vague "African thing": lion the emblem of
what?                                       BOAR and beer and BEAR...
i don't know... when i was a supervisor
and the people i was working with sort of obeyed...
maybe because i told them: free burgers...
otherwise they're going to throw them away...
catch them if you can...
OR?
                     i had the physique of:
don't **** with me... i must have said to one of them:
work with me... i don't care what the prior
supervisor said... i don't care...
she might have sent you home...
she's ego-tripping... you! me! just work with
me... we'll get through this...

well... it was hardly a landing on the moon...
oh sure... that must have been spectacular...
i mean: so many dreams concerning the moon
died when man landed on the moon...
the entire Islamic world collapsed...
but it worked... i was a benevolent person!
happiness filled the universe for a bit...
nothing was invented...
nothing was arrived at...
        but people weren't treated like slaves
gearing up to building the Giza pyramids: too!
i was given a higher authority:
but i didn't abuse it... i actually dug-under it...

i didn't become a ******* heart-surgeon either...
i came to the understanding of
the pristine man.... the man that i was becoming...
a man that others could wish could lead them...
after all... one of the stewards i was supervising
came to me after the shift and uttered the words:
it was a pleasure working with you;
hey presto!

today i ate something decent for the past 3 days of fasting
because of the heat-wave...
enough carbohydrates... enough protein... etc. etc.
and as much i might **** women's football...
i worked through the "indigestion":
i did watch the Lionesses brave it against
the conquistadores...
but... unlike watching women competing
professionally in tennis or any other sport...
i wasn't watching football...
i was watching the women...

i had my fill... i was making raspberry ice-cream...
i got bored...  fell asleep...
i sort of wished: if all these beautiful women
were less tom-boys... less affront...
like that quote from the movie: Gladiator...
when Marcus Aurelius uttered to his dauighter:
if you were born a man:
what a Caesar you would have made...

i was thinking likewise:
if you were born a woman in thinking you were
a woman: what a woman you would have
made!
        now? forget it...
i'd rather be a Darwinistic abnormality....
a vague "vogue"...
not even Copernicus could have hoped
for his perception to be this:
so shell-shocked: hijacked like Darwinism
was become... ha ha!
Darwinism has become subject to...
what eugenics tries to established as: norms
via ******... mutation...
        
                       i'm fine... i'm a mutant myself...
i was mutated from birth...
i was given the mark of Cain after the catastrophe
of Chernobyl spread to Poland...
my... care for Ukraine is therefore? nil...
       thanks: but not thanks...

and my "animosity" for women?
why i reserve the "right" to **** prostitutes and treat
them like mothers?
ingrained... unconscious constructs...
when i was born with a birth mark
on my right shoulder-blade...
a nurse in the hospital tried to choke me
to death... enlarging my heart...
you know what happens to a man...
when... he's been told that...
a woman: who is supposed to protect him:
tries to **** me? it's not a case of abortion...
it's not infanticide...
i was already born... i was already formed:
when i was first attacked: that wasn't the first
time i was attacked...

      my concern for women, ergo?
**** them: leave them...
               dogs are prized assets...
they bark and they slobber and they invented
the circle: chasing their own tails...
no no...

   this is not the time you get to dictate...
not in my personal life...
               dictate all you want in the public sphere...
however many French intellectual you wish
to summon...
            i'm going to spare you my immediacy
of heart-burn...
   i cycled to Rainham today to check out
what damage was done... i heard of none...

i **** prostitutes because i don't have time
for making dating-profile profiles...
for "likes": for glued eyes... for Parliament sensibilities...
i love: yes, prime minister, the sit-com...
the English arrogance is insatiable!
i say: **** the apples!
a poem a day keeps the psychologists away!

also? scrap concept of veganism!
there's no concept of a bullet-proof cabbage!