/                you sure that there's an actual vinyl
revival?
   it's stirr-frying my testicles
back in england
   and vinyl is on the comeback?!

**** yeah!
   i tried interpreting an ancient egyptian
concept of a fanning / ***** police
for days on end...

  newspaper? no...
    saturday nespaper magazine?
no...
          c.d.?!
             no...

              impromptu napkin
"loophole"?
             nope...

    vinyl?!

             oh **** me!
i own a vinyl sgt. peppers'...
don't really want to listen to it...
but, vinyl, within
the framework of a revival?!

   july sunday pants...

                you can fan me back and
forth, back and forth that
elongated into circular *******
           liquorice...

finally! vinayl has a secondary,
degenerate purpose...
      fanning equippment!
spread the air...
  unless you're me
lodging a ******* imitation of
a ball-sack with
ice-cubes dangling in front of a fan:
spreading nothing,
but hot air...

   honest to god, in this weather:
the beatles' vinyl?
    means as much crock-****
as i'd really love for a
  nefertiti:
                   "woof"...
   or a...
                           wave of air...
     a bellowing bull
                      with rotten breath...

but at least we found out that
vinyl is useful afterall...
way past the newspaper...
   or a pigeon flapping,
or the comment section
that's coorporate...

        vinyl?
       perfect flapping equipment!
disperses the air...
      like sinatra disperses
bad singers...
                   drunk and...
  'opely 'opefully on to "it".

   is that like: the dead come (back)...
and then we hit karma redemption
with reincarnation?!
   limited contra dough-dough-deep
state affairs?!
       new delhi ***
                           new york?!

no wonder i can't stop laughing
as if that could even be translated into
slavic languages!

                    you pompous
anglican-integrated-******...
   ****** english women...
  you?! you?! you?! you want
to dictate, rules for me?!

               ******: now i want
to fight your side's resemblance of goliath!
i've petted an alsatian and a dobberman
up to the age of 8...
         i think i'll manage...
****-******* your granny's egotism
rooting for: ahmed no. 1.

rhetoric conjures up the most
ambivalent compound-nouns,
e.g.:
        cultural-relativism...
cultural? relavitism?
you can't do that?
**** yay!
    i'll butcher someone
on a monday,
and you end up calling
me a boy-scout on a friday...
**** yeah!
might as well have been
a piece of redied kosher meat,
no?
  rhetoric breeds
the most obnoxious sets of ideas,
fickle scheming
bunch of *******...
horn-beggars, squatting misers,
the lard fudge,
  the insolent brigadiers...
as i said:
a stick: has two ends!
you hit with one,
you get hit by the other!
test me, *******,
source yourself as media
lucky with your soros...
go on, i'm waiting to see your
paycheck...
           journalism, is fake
throughout, it doesn't mind
whether it's coorporate or
independent...
    it's all fake right now...
the only true
journalism is done by people
who recite their own
clamour of life's effort,
those who summon the
angelic-demons who state:
don't convene.
              man
was hardly a man when
he convened,
he simply turned into a monkey...
isolated?
well... sorta godly,
best replenished by isolated
examples of exceptional deviance.
thing is...
i can understand moral-relativism,
that abhorrent scale that the greeks
scorned...
  but cultural-relativism?
that's a rhetorical ****...
it's not even a question,
it's not even a term...
    i could fiddle with a pair of
******* and find more sense...
that means jack-**** to me!
         50ml of jack daniels
means more to me than
the term "cultural-relavitism"...
manhattan relative
to the amazon rainforest,
is that a relative worth pile
of comparison, or is
that, sarcasm?
   i'm too drunk to make a choice...
cultural relativism...
ha ha... ha ha!
         is that:
frankenstein = dracula?
               you know why i
understand moral relativism?
the concept of ambiguity:
the soldier vs. the murderer...
isn't that an ambiguity?
   that's moral relativism for you:
i can't tell the two apart...
the **** is "cultural relativism"?
some sort of bad joke?
a dog's **** worth of concern
for a missing bark?
****-head *******; die.

napierdala was prawda.
_______

marvin gaye - heard it through
the grapevine (remastered)...

         well...
                    i can listen to that ****
all day...

i don't even know what these
western supposed "communists"
are doing,

seems i've changed curtains,
came from under an iron curtain,
for a brief while surfaced,
gasped, and was forced below
the waters under the sicilon
curtain...

           it was fun, i have to admit...
what a little nieche we had
on youtube for over 10 years...
before we were taken seriously...

i won't translate those three words,
something else has crossed my attention,
namely regarding the subjects
of the British Raj...

          now... not many people are proud
of being subjegated to a colonial power,
akin to England...
          where did it all begin?
for the english speaking throng: africa...
mind you, i think life started in India...
but these indians and pakistanis in
current day England?
   i've never imagined to see a group
of people, so so proud in being
a formerly colonialißed people:

   why is there so much ****-****-hurt
ambition to "fit it", while keeping
up with selling a sari?
or a niqab?
                  i just imagine the times
relevant to lawrence of arabia...
  **** me, even the kenyans are like:
huh?!
      slave trade my ***...
blame the dutch *******...
        not the Idi Amin of Uganda...
the former kings of Africa who sold
their people into slavery...
you think a dutchman can outrun
a Usain Bolt on the African savannah?!
a lie was sold, by the African rulers...

   and the terrible deed: of picking cotton?
so... so i guess not confined
to mining coal among the leprechauns?!
picking cotton: hard work...
migrant workers from eastern europe
picking strawberries in sweden...
ooh... hard hard labour!

                    sorry, i'm not buying...
but these asians amaze me...
they are actually proud,
of being former colonial subjects...
  they are in full glee when associating
themselves with the, dead british empire,
when, "addressing" european migrants
to england: they actually think in terms
of post-racial superiority...
oh g-g be play cricket too
we drink tea with milk too!
english people eat our curry!
bud bud!

                picking cotton was such a bad
"deal": be thankful the white-boy-*******
were mining coal for you...
   and whaling...
           people are still employed picking
strawberries...
   and in that famous slavic proverb:
what the **** does a (piernik)
          lebkuchen have anything to do
with a windmill?!
   i.e.: what does a gingerbread
                 have to do with a windmill?!

no african slave trade to h'america:
no blues, now jazz, no pop music,
    me, still with a clarinet lodged up my ***...
oh yeah: all bad, b'ah b'ah b'ah bad...

still, back to the asians...
   i would have never come across a sort
of people who would celebrate their former
colonized status...
    so much so, that they would,
exfoliate... brag... and deem it fit to
bring other europeans to their heel...
oh sure... and it's not like the Raj didn't
coorporate with the British authorities...

   somewhere in between the collateral
damage brigade you'll find the righteous...
love the food...
          the Indian cuisine is superior to all
other cuisines in the world...
      m'eh... French or Itallian...
            sure... the French can bake...
an indian chapati is crude, aztec even...
but not even a French croissant can beat
an English crumpet...
           it's so good, that an ex-Russian girlfriend
wanted me to call her crumpet...
enough said...

              i would be the kakasha (little ****)
to her whittle crumpet...
        go figure...

and what an unspectacular life i had led...
and how i've managed to squeeze
as much juice from it,
having now found myself:
completing myself,
without the sort of stature of existential
fulfilment associated with fatherhood...
i'm calling for Kant to be the saint
of bachelors...
         after all...
            patience and rubric,
   discipline... really does pay off.

All I crave
Is a connection
I dont want a fancy house
Or a coorporate job
I want to be loved
In my own home
For who I am
Where I dont have to hide
Nothing to give
Just you by my side
Please, feed my soul
With your beautiful lips
I want to know
Am I enough,
Just being myself?
If you love me
Maybe I can love myself.