In this chapter, the researcher reviewed the opinion of some past and recent writers on the subject and also added their own ideal under the following sub-headings:
- Conceptual frame work
- Theoretical frame work
- Empirical frame work
- Summary

2.1. CONCEPTUAL FRAME WORK
CONCEPT OF ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN

The concept zoological garden is a form of ex – situ conservation, which primarily involves keeping of animals alive outside their natural environment for aesthetic educational researches and recreational purpose (Varadharajan and Pythol 2000). Nigeria is blessed with abundant wildlife species which needs to be properly managed in a sustainable basis to prevent depletion (Opara et –al 2010). Hence the need to adapt strict management of resources, repopulation of endangered species and conservation of wildlife park and zoological garden and management strategies (Ajebede et – al 2010).
Throughout history, human have given value to other species of animals as means of entertainment, education and spirituality in addition to being source of food and clothing (front 2011, 69) collecting and exhibiting and exhibiting animals originated from Ancient Egypt where private collection were reserved for the higher class population as a symbol of wealth and power (wearing and jobberns 2011, 19 – 50). In the 1900’s, zoo’s based themselves as conservation movement, with focus on scientific study of endangered species. In the beginning of the 20th century, zoo became an attraction of mass audiences (Beardworth and Bryan 2001, 88). By the late 1900’s there was a shift in the natural of zoo with public attitude and interest changing nature and conservation, with concern for ecosystem and awareness as they protect endangered species (Wearing and Jobbern 2011, 50.

ROLES OF ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN
(Mason 2011, 189) reveal that the roles of zoo are:
a. Educating people about animals.
b. Conservation of endangered species
c. Safeguarding the welfare visitors
d. To generate revenue
e. Providing visitors facilities such as catering and merchandising
f. Re – introducing captive breeding into the wild and carrying out zoological and veterinary research to improve animal welfare in the wild and in captivity.
On the other hand, zoos served as scientific research, for example, zoologist learn more about animals habit and diseases by studying them in zoos studies of animals living kin zoo, together with examination of those that have died have provide zoologist with information about the structure and function of animal bodies (Usher M.B 2000). Keeping wildlife animals in captivity bring visitors from different parts of the world for different purposes such as to provide sources of recreation in the city, to provide biological specimen to constitutes, a learning resource for secondary school, colleges, and universities. It also provide employment and game reserve, provides sources of protein revenue, esthetics recreation, education and scientific values (Presley 2001). The captive animal propagation is one way of encouraging growth of depleted wildlife species population and so properly planned program of zoo establishment and development is considered as one of effective method for conservation of wildlife (Okpiri 2005). Educational environment study and conservation of the  environment have become a subject of major importance all over the world, not only from the point of view of preventing population, but also from the point of conserving water supplies by protecting water shed, conserving soil, vegetarian and Fauna. (Comphell 2007). Comphell also stated that conservation zoos can provide an important facility for research at both pure and applied levels in both the field and laboratory in colleges and universities. Bigot (2000) emphasized that the primary function of zoo curators is to make visit a leaving experience. The attention and effort given to wildlife conservation and tourism in both state and federal levels have been noted.

CONCEPT OF TOURISM
According to UNWTO 2020 defined as the study of man away from his usual habitat. Activities of a person traveling to and staying in places outside their usual environment for not more than one consecutive year for leisure, business and other purposes, tourism contributes to specie conservation, communities project in developing countries like: Nigeria, environmental education, awareness and economies development (Klutzy, 2000). Filton et al (2000) reported that 20 – 40 percent of international tourism is related to wildlife. In Nigeria, tourism contributed 3.3 percent of total GDP in 2011 with forecast of a 10.8 percent increase for 2012 (WTTC 2012). Smith et al (2012) recognized the role of wildlife tourism as building breeding species management and influencing visitor’s behavior for the benefit of wild animals. Fibs (2007) underscored the value of zoo visitors and their feedbacks for the planning and designing of zoo and more importantly to decision making in zoo management by showing on – going treads. He therefore stands to reason that visitors’ preferences should be seriously considered by policy makers and management of zoo and other similar institutions. An area in which visitors’ preference is highly important for a zoo in particular is choice of animals desired. Woods (2000) observed that humans have definite preference for different species of animals. Knowledge of visitors desires in terms of animals and the features that make the animals appealing will assist zoo management in animal acquisition and also in development of education and interpretation programs listening physical features, behavioral characteristics as factors influencing animals preference (Wood 2000, Wentworth 2012). Wild tourism can be described as tourism undertaken to view and or encounter non – domesticated animals in captive, semi – captive or in their natural environment (CRC 2001, Newsome et al 2005). According to Durbary (2004), it could be non consumptive such as viewing, photographing and fishing.

CONCEPT OF ZOO AND EDUCATION
In zoo and education, a study by Patricia et al 2007 states that conservation and education are key elements in the mission statement of zoos. A survey conducted by the Association of zoo and aquarium (AZA) reveals that the general public rate conservation and education as the most important role of zoo (Frasers and Stickler 2008). Zoo primarily deals with three aspects of conservation practice i.e practice, advocacy and research. Conservation practice entails captive breeding, species rein-introduction programs, species survival plans and the use of zoo revenue for conservation programs in wild. Conservation advocacy include: public engagement, promoting awareness, advocacy, stewarding and fund raising events and schemes, a good example of which is like “Adopt animal scheme at most modern zoos”. Moreover, conservation research is conducted on wildlife biology, population dynamics, animal behavior, health and welfare and there are also publications generated by zoos animals care captivity. The preservation of animals in zoos makes it easier for more people to see them.
As well, zoos have been used to preserve various endangered species. However, zoos have become powerful educational tool for many scholars, biologists and researchers (Falk and Dierking 2000).  Individual who visit a zoo get the rare opportunity to examine the relationship between man and animal (Wagoner and Jenson 2010). Students can learn a lot about certain animals that might not be locally available. Many specimen and animals (Wagner and Jensen 2010) argue that zoo makes it possible for researchers to conduct their studies, for instance, researchers can use caged animals to make various observation about wildlife or animals. The acquired knowledge can be used to support the survival of the wild animals in their natural habitats. It is therefore agreeable that zoos have an important educational role in every society. This because, learning is ever – changing process (Falk and Dierking 2000). In the 1970’s the primary educational target for most American zoo was elementary level children. The idea was that building understanding would lead to appreciation which would eventually produce a generation that was concerned about wildlife and the environment (Wheatly 2000). Wheatly emphasized that although children are still a primary audience, zoos are extending themselves to reach many others audience that can make difference in action today. This initiative includes the membership, governance and employee of zoo.

CONCEPT OF ZOO AND CONSERVATION
In zoo and conservation, according to Max – Planck Gesell Chaft (2011), Zoology garden breeds animal from threatened populations and and thus makes greater contributions towards biodiversity conservation. According to UN (2020) on global biodiversity warned that 1 million species are at risk of extinction with decades, putting the world’s natural life support system in jeopardy. Unfortunately, loss of plants and animals habitat leads to from species extinctions and loss of diversity from ecosystem. Fortunately, not all of the extinctions occur at once. Conservation action may still be able to save threatened species (John M et al 2016). At October 2010, meeting of the Convention on Biological Diversity (CBD) in Nagoya, Japan, delegates discussed a plan to reduce pressure in the planet’s biodiversity. Key targets include expanding coverage of protected areas, halving the rate of loss of natural habitats, and preventing extinction of threatened species. Species whose habitat is severely threatened, however, the outlook is so bleak that the International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN), the US Endangered Species Act and the CBD (Article a) recognize that In-Situ conservation action (ie, in the species natural habitat) will need to be combined with Ex-Situ approaches, such as captive breeding in zoos, aquariums and so on (Conde et al 2011).

THE THEORETICAL FRAME WORK
The animal welfare and management (Dakin 2001) is a state of being that can be measured, recognized that its ranges from very poor to very good, introduces the concept of coping, allow measurement separate from moral consideration and refer to feeling as well as physical and psychological health. The definition of welfare that we use also emphasizes that it relates to an individual and thus welfare can differ between different members of the same species, even when exposed to the same condition (Horsey et al 2009). In the case of zoo animals, which have often come from very heterogeneous background, individuals may vary greatly in this previous life experiences and this can influence their ability to cope with certain challenges, by using each animal as its environment and thus an individual’s welfare can be measured.
There are also some species – specific characteristics that have evolved to enable animals cope with different, environment and thus we should also consider welfare at the species level; such species level adaptation could relate to dietary needs, hearing sensitivity, thermo-regulatory needs and so on. The theory of evolution by natural selection, first formulated in Darwin’s book “On the origin of species” in 1859, this theory states Organisms change over time as result of changes in heritable physical or behavioral traits. Changes that allow an organism to better adapt to its environment will help it to survive and have more offspring. The physical and behavioral changes that make natural selection possible happen at the level of DNA and gene, such changes are called Mutation. “Mutations are basically the raw materials on which evolution act. Pobiner said, mutation can be caused by random error in DNA replication or repair, or by chemical of radiation damage. According to Chinaka (2019) in the book concept of evolution, Charles Darwin proposed the concept of natural selection as the mechanism of evolution. The main postulates of Darwinism are:
1. Geometric increase: According to Darwinism, the populations tends to multiply geometrically and the reproductive powers of living organism (biotic potential) are much more than required to maintain their numbers.
2. Limited food and space
3. Struggle for existence
4. Variation etc
Both natural animal populations and those in captivity are subject to evolutionary forces. Evolutionary changes to captive populations may be an important, but poorly understood, factor that can affect the sustainability of these populations. The importance of maintaining the evolutionary integrity of zoo populations especially those that are used for conservation efforts including rein-introductions is critical for the conservation of biodiversity.
Greater appreciation for an evolutionary perspective may offer important insights that can enhance the reproductive success and health examples and associated strategies that highlight this approach, including minimizing domestication (ie genetic adaptation to captivity), integrating natural mating systems into captive breeding protocols, minimizing the effects of translocation on variation in photoperiods and understanding the interplay of parasites and pathogens and inflammation. Captive populations can adapt rapidly to captive environments through demonstration, in which human impose artificial selection in order to increase the prevalence of desired traits in the domesticated population.
For domestic animals, human breeders choose to breed only those individuals that thrive in the captive environments, leading to trans-generational changes that result in a population that is adapted to breed and survive in the conditions imposed by the breeders. Among captive population of animals, zoo populations are unique in that they are maintained to educate the public regarding wildlife and their habitat or to preserve critically endangered species through captive breeding and reinforcement program. Although assessment and preservation of genetic diversity is a top priority for most conservation breeding programs, fundamental to these goals is the maintenance of the genetic variation of these captive populations (Lacy 2009). Whether used to further educational or conservation goals, it is critically that these captive population are representative of the natural populations from which they are desired (Ashley et al 2003). However, maintaining captive population, such that they are reflective of the wild phenotype of the animals, can be challenging in zoos because of the mismatch the environments that the zoo population is originally from and the captive content in which they are been housed. Hendry et al 2015 carol et al 2014, for example, solitary animals with large territories that only encounter sexually mature counterparts during estrus may be housed in proximity of their mate year round, potentially leading to the behavioral issues, including ****** aggregation or ****** incompatibility. Other stressor can exist in captive environments for which animals are not adapted, including the acoustic environments, physical substrate and even availability of food (Morgan and Tromborg 2007). Minimizing the mismatch between the natural environment and the captive environment and they should limit the decline and poor performance of captive populations (Hendry et al 2011; Carrol et al 2014). Captive environments are very different from the wild and can impose different selection pressures that can lead to genetic adaptation in the captivity that affects behaviors (eg: temperaments; MC Douglas et al 2006), morphology (eg; size, skeletal morph metric O’ Regan and Kitchener 2005); and reproductive output (eg; age at ****** maturity, letter size). In particular populations of species with short generation times will adapt more rapidly to captivity than those with long generation time (Frankham 2008).
Social learning theory is the idea that children from observing. According to the learning theory, learning is based on social interaction with the environments (Nwamuo et al 2006). As children walk around the zoo, they are exposed to words and concepts. It also encourages dialogue between parents, siblings, friends and zoo guards (Jessica 2014)  visiting the zoo help the children and other visitors to understand the importance of taking care of the environments as it has a significant impact on lives and welfare of animals and importance of conservation and animal care which will never be forgotten. According to (Nwamuo et al 2006) social learning theory plays a big role in how people and especially learn. There are four elements to social learning theory including:
• Attention: Children can’t learn if they aren’t focused on the task. Students who see something unique or different are more likely to focus on it, helping to learn just as in zoo.
• Retention: people learn by internalizing information later when we can recall that information later when we respond to a situation in the same way which we saw.
• Reproduction: in the way we are able to reproduce our previously learn behavior or knowledge when it’s required. Practicing our response in our head or in action can improve the way we response.
• Motivation

Operant conditioning of behaviors theory of B.F Skinner, enclosure design and environmental enrichment strategies have all been suggested to improve the welfare of zoo animals by reducing stereotypical behavior and rein-introduction success of wildlife species. (WAZA 2015). Thus, the use of these strategies has important consequences for zoological collections. Despite the recognition and wild-scale implementation of such strategies, however, concerns around global zoo animal welfare remain and behavioral pathologies are common in many species. (Luhrs 2010) using operant conditioning, some of the barriers to delivering positive welfare experiences through holistic behavioral management strategies to zoo animals and make recommendations for institutional approaches towards improving zoo animal welfare using examples of Abnormal Repetitive Behaviors (ARBs) through targeted behavioral management.

EMPIRICAL FRAMEWORK
According to P.A Anadu (2000) on his study wildlife conservation in Nigeria: problems and strategy a case study of wildlife reserve of University of Benin, the major treats to nature conservation in Nigeria and he reviewed critically the measures adopted for the protection of wildlife. According the study, the major problem includes habitat degradation (through uncontrolled logging, agricultural projects, industrial plantations, highway and urban development’s and exploitation for fuel wood) over hunting and poaching.
He suggested that to protect wildlife include the creation of more game reserve, enactment of wildlife laws, signing of international treaties and manpower development. According to his research through interview with about 10 workers or staff of the wildlife reserve, the major treats to the area include poaching and hunting, indiscriminate feeling of forest trees, low funding, inadequate game laws and weak enforcement of the existing legal provisions.
It is suggested that the Federal Government should intervene more positively in favor of conservation by creating more national parks and assuming joint responsibility with the states for formulating wildlife laws. Furthermore, the role of nongovernmental organizations in influencing conservation policies and mobilizing public opinion will be cruial in different years ahead.
In the journal “A synopsis of wildlife conservation in Nigeria by Timothy A Afolaya  2009, this article emphasized the recent developments in the overall conservation program in Nigeria as it describes the important role which wildlife is playing in helping to feed the nation, in creating employment opportunities, in education in research, in recreation and in local medicine. Inadequately of Nigerian wildlife legislation and of the trained manpower to protect and manage the wildlife resources are among the crucial wildlife management problems identified. It is also stressed that the basic information for effective management is often lacking where Nigerian wildlife reserved are concerned. It also stressed that the main problems facing wildlife conservation in Nigeria include poaching, over exploitation, lack accurate data, bush burning that destroys wildlife habitat. There is adequate reliable database to facilitate forestry planning and development. Weak forest policy and implementation, forest policies lacks legal backing and hence its enforcement is difficult. The Nigeria forestry policy Act, 1937 is subsumed in the National Agricultural Policy of 1988. Forest tariffs are relatively low and are not revised frequently penalties under most laws are low and seldom enforced. It suggested that Nigeria forestry policy act should be reviewed or renew and encourage the government to implement the policies adequately and enforce penalties on the offenders.
Jonathan (2009) in his own study animal wildlife conservation under multiple land use system in Nigeria reveals that out of 6 selected zoological garden and game reserves in six geopolitical zones in Nigeria. The situation of wildlife in Nigeria is nevertheless different. Except in the Yankari, upper Ogun and Kwiabaha, Game Reserves and the Kainji lake National park, little efforts have been made to protect the Nigerian animal wildlife resources from human pressure and wide spread extinction. To many, what remains of the wildlife animals are best seen in the few state owned zoological gardens in Nigeria?
However, because most indigenous large animal species including Elephant, Buffalo, Chimpanzee, Gorilla, Rhinoceros, Leopard and Ostrich have not been able to reproduce in the various zoological garden so far, the hope to conserve this animals are brittle.
According to his work, animal wildlife is a declining resource in Nigeria because of unplanned land use practices. For example, land uses in game reserves are often conflicting and contradictory for land uses, timber extraction, hunting; food crop production and settlement are simultaneously going on in game reserves with little or no control measures and with no management plans. The excessive demands for land these conflicting uses have greatly disturbed the ecosystems involved, thus making the survival of the wild animals uncertain. Specially, the problems of wildlife conservation in Nigeria are:
a. Poaching
b. Indiscriminate burning of the vegetations
c. Uncontrolled grazing activities in the reserves
d. Intensive logging for domestic and industrial uses
e. Users rights on the reserves enjoyed by the traditional owners of the land before reservation
f. Lack of adequate fund to manage the reserve
g. Ineffective legislation
h. Lack of trained manpower
i. Urban sprawl
j. Infrastructural development of roads, electric and telegram lines and irrigation schemes.
k. Lack of modern enclosure or caging
l. Inability of animals to breed within the captive environment.

He then emphasized that the picture for Nigerian animal wildlife depends on the nation’s ability to conserve what is left either in their natural habitat or at least, in zoological gardens. The game reserve should be reduced to manageable numbers while state governments should win public sympathy through adequate conservation publicity and the provision of sufficient vehicles and personnel to manage the game reserves. The policy of land use in game reserves should be conducted on:
a. The number and species of animals hunted per year
b. The population of animals species in the game reserves and their habitat sustainability
c. The endangered and extinct animals species and specific reasons for the decline in their population
d. Human problems peculiar to each reserve and ways of minimizing them.
e. Establishment of rein-introduction programs.

SUMMARY
The establishment of zoos in a society is premised partly on the idea of bringing man close to wild animal’s species (Yager et al 2015). This establishment has various roles to play in the ecosystem and all endeavors of life. The role of zoological garden as well as wildlife conservation is as follows:
1. Education: zoos are established for the preservation of animal to make it easier for more people to see them and learn their characteristics and habitat. Zoo animals are used for specimens both for secondary schools students and tertiary institution as well as teaching the public the benefit of wildlife. A survey conducted by the Association of Zoos and Aquarium (AZA) reveals that, the general public rate conservation and education as the most important role of zoo (Fraser and Stickler 2008).
2. Conservation: of endangered species to avoid extinction of such animal.
3. Tourism:  it serves as a centre of tourism as people from different parts of the country visit to learn about nature at their leisure.
4. Generating revenue for the government as well as provides employment opportunities individuals etc
Most problems encountered in Nigerian zoos include:
• Poaching
• In availability of breeding species
• Lack of trained personnel’s
• Lack of fund by the Government
• Lack of infrastructure and conservation facilities.

1975 Art Institute is tactic for Odysseus to put off dealing with real world also investigate range of visual techniques gay instructor fruitlessly endeavors to ****** him he enjoys several affairs with beautiful girls yet Bayli haunts him main building of school is connected behind Art Institute of Chicago Odysseus spends lots of time looking at paintings Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” Gustave Caillebotte’s “Paris Street Rainy Day” Ivan Albright’s “Portrait of Dorian Gray” Jackson *******’s “Greyed Rainbow” Georgia O’Keeffe’s “Black Cross New Mexico” Francis Bacon’s “Figure with Meat” Pablo Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist” Balthus’s “Solitaire” Claude Monet’s “Stacks of Wheat” Paul Cezanne’s “The Bathers” Vincent Van Gogh’s “Self-Portrait” Edouard Manet’s “The Mocking of Christ” Henri Toulouse-Lautrec’s “At the Moulin Rouge” Robert Rauschenberg’s “Photograph” Mary Cassatt’s “The Child’s Bath” Peter Blume’s “The Rock” Ed Paschke’s “Mid America” Grant Wood’s “American Gothic” Jasper John’s “Near the Lagoon” and John Singer Sargent James McNeill Whistler Diego Rivera Marsden Hartley Thomas Eakins Winslow Homer his 2nd year at Art Institute involves student teaching during day then at night working as waiter at Ivanhoe Restaurant and Theater gay managers teach him to make Caesar salad tableside and other flamboyant tasks wait staff are all gay men once more Odysseus experiences bias from homosexual regime he is assigned restaurant’s slowest sections it bothers him the way some gay men venomously condescend women and their bodies Odysseus loves women especially their bodies he thinks about how much easier his life would be if he was gay in 1976 the art world is managed by gay curators gay art dealers he wonders if he could be gay yet not realize it can a person be gay but not attracted to one’s own ***? Ivanhoe hires variety of night club acts one night he watches Tom Waits perform on piano in lounge Odysseus feels inspired in 1977 he graduates with teacher’s certification he considers all the sacrifices teachers make and humiliating salaries they put up with he does not want to teach candidly he feels he has nothing yet to teach teaching degree was Mom’s idea Odysseus wants to learn grow paint after Art Institute he flip-flops between styles his artwork suffers from too much schooling and scholastic practice it takes years to find his own voice he has tendency to be self-effacing put himself down often he will declare what do i know? i’m just a stupid painter one topic artists do not like talking about is their failures how much money they cost creation requires resource paint and canvas can be expensive how much money is spent on harebrained ideas that never pan out? most artists resort to cheap or used materials few can afford their dreams he gets job selling encyclopedias that job lasts about 5 weeks then he finds job selling posters at framing store on Broadway between Barry and Wellington Salvador Dali Escher Claude Monet prints are the rage his manager accuse him of lacking initiative being spacey after several months he gets laid off he finds job waiting tables during lunch shift at busy downtown restaurant other waiters are mostly old men from Europe they play cards with each other in between shifts teach Odysseus how to carry 6 hot plates on one arm and 2 in his other hand the job is hectic but money is good experience educates differently than books and college a university degree cannot teach what working in the real world confronts people learn most when they are nobodies he reads Sartre’s “Being And Nothingness” he wants to discover who he is by finding out who he is not often he rides bicycle along lakefront taking different routes sometimes following behind an anonymous bicyclist possibly to come across new way he does not know or to marvel at another person’s interest

truth is this life is too difficult for me the violence hatred turf wars tribalism laws judgments practices rules permits history i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world i’m sorry am i repeating myself i apologize i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world god please protect teach me strength courage fairness compassion wisdom love i’m not prepared emotionally to withstand the realities of this world not equipped psychologically to deal with the stresses of this world

buy divinity purchase devotion earn reward points own 4 bedroom loft with roof garden deck porch pool parking in paradise’s gated community pay for exclusive membership into sainthood become part of inner circle influence determine fate destiny of everything step up to the plate sign on the line immortalize yourself feel the privileges of eternal holiness i’m living inside a nightmare inside a nightmare inside a nightmare hello? i am dizzy in my own self-deceptions lost in my own self-deceptions alone in my own self-deceptions there was a time once but that time is gone there was a place once but that place has vanished there was a life once but that life is spent remember when things were different truth is i’m weak skittish anxious alienated paranoid scared to death pagan idiot stop

breath deeply push stale air out imagine kinder more respectful loving world please god do your stuff angels throw your weight around clean up this mess planets align stars shine ancient spirits raise your voices magic work there are words when spoken can change everything words rooted to spiritual nerves if voiced in  particular order secret passwords capable of setting off persuasions in the mind threads to the heart if a person can figure out which words what order tone of voice rate of pronunciation time of day then that person can summon powers of the supernatural Isis goddess of celestial sway of words whisper secret earth water fire air reveal your alchemy winter spring summer autumn teach about passages patterns sublime eastern western sun fickle moody moon unveil your heavenly equation north south east west  beat the drums blow winds show the path to healing path of the heart blood dirt hair *** bare the mystery of your trance dance the ghost dance sacred woman with ovaries cycles flow smell beautiful girl eyes sweetness strange awkward skinny scruffy boy great bear spirit bird jumping fish wise turtle where are you why is there no one to back me? jean paul sartre what was your last thought before you died? was it nausea? nothingness? or a wish?

Dear Poet Friends. Some of my earlier poems like this one, - are  available on 'Poetfreak.com'. But since that site is likely to shut down by the year end, I have decided to post some of my earlier poems on this friendly Poetry Site, to give them a fresh lease of life! Hope you like them.  Best wishes, -Raj, New Delhi.

              A TRIBUTE TO MONA LISA

BACKGROUND :
Unlike the legendary Helen of Troy her enigmatic
face never launched a thousand ships as 'Dr. Faustus'
says,
But she continues to inspire artists, poets, and
viewers alike till this day,
Even though five intervening centuries have passed
our way!
Leonardo da Vinci who had left many of his paintings
incomplete,
Commenced painting 'Mona Lisa' in 1503, taking four
long years to complete!
He had carried the portrait with him for sixteen
long years,
While seeking work in Milan, Rome, and into exile  
in France!
But after Leonardo's death in 1519, the portrait became
the possession of Francis the First, the French King .
But later, Louis the XIV had moved 'Mona Lisa' to his
Palace at Versailles!
It had also adorned Napoleon’s bedroom, who hung
it over the mantelpiece!
We learn from Art historian George Varsi, that the
portrait belonged to one Lisa Gherardini.
She was the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant,
Who had commissioned Leonardo to paint his
wife’s portrait !

AESTHETIC VALUE OF 'MONA LISA' :
Leonardo here creates an innovative painting style,
Using oil instead of tempera on poplar wood panel, -
which was unique in his time!
The three quarter pose with a wide pyramidal base,
A ‘stumato’ blending of translucent colours with
light and shade ,
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance !
Here, Leonardo’s passion and pre-occupation of a
life time come together,
As he waves his magic brush to create 'Mona Lisa' !
Lisa’s mystic smile with its play of light and shade,
Appears and disappear when viewed from different
sides,
Creating an optical illusion before the viewer's eyes!
Mona’s mystic smile and her gaze, creates a mixed
emotion on her countenance,
Mesmerizing the viewers as they stand and gaze!
Insurance Companies have declared that this portrait
is beyond Insurance, -
Since its value remains Priceless !

SECURITY MEASURES ADOPTED :
In 1911, during broad daylight from Louvre in Paris,
The painting was stolen by an employee!
He hid it for two years in an attic before smuggling
it to Florence in Italy;
And was apprehended trying to sell it to an art
dealer clandestinely!
Later in 1956, a mad man named Ugo Ungaza,
Threw a rock creating a patch near the left eye of
'Mona Lisa' !
The Art Curators at Louvre now toil ceaselessly,
To preserve this fabulous painting for posterity!
Today the priceless 'Mona Lisa' is housed in a
dehumidified, air-conditioned container,
Protected in a triple bullet-proof glass chamber;
With six million tourists visiting her every year!
“It is the ultimate symbol of Human Civilization ”
  - exclaimed President Kennedy !
And with this I pay my tribute to Leonardo da Vinci !
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of
New Delhi.
..........................................................­................................

Gold and silver battle *****
torn from swords saddles and crosses
lying beneath a farmer's field
tributes to kings and bellicose gods.

Fierce birds of prey snakes fish and bears
framed in filigree geometry
guarded warriors' savage souls.
No mercy in Mercia.

Archeologists anthropologists
historians librarians
curators and consertvators
collect confer and classify
while I just try to connect.

Come into my commune,
My farm
In the sky;
You won't be lonely
Baby,
Not by a hiker's mile

Let's climb
Into the morrow,
Throwing fear
To the wind

The curators
Of sorrow
Are seething within

They prey
On your pleasure
And worship your sin

Like vultures
They hover,
Like maggots
They win

Come into my commune,
My farm
In the sky;
And feast
On your freedom

Then bury your lies;

You won't be lonely
Baby,
Not by a hiker's mile

~ P
#AHikersMile
(12/20/2014)

Hanging around the old cabaret,
where nighthawks steal glances
at the curators of tired eyes,
the walking dead take leave
of their senselessness
entering blurred reality

Someone calls for another round
shouting fire down his throat as

A dart nicks the narrow space between
two fates and falls to the floor
avoiding both,
leaving him in a rage

She pockets the change they left her
or forgot, while
laughs infuse the acrid smoke,
ricocheting into nothing

wasze ulice, nasze... kamienice...
    
boasting Jews of Poland...

Kraków "snow"
  (ashes from Auschwitz
falling on the old capital,
of human remains...
they called it:
     szaryśnieg -
                 grauschnee)...

the marching hybrid
song
         ich bin zu schuld...
   ich bin deutsche nicht
deutsche: ich bin
alles: europäisch...
  die letztemann!                

feminism according
to Leni Riefenstahl...
no women among
the Nazis?
my my... how sexist!
eine makellosfrau!
            eine schnellblond!

oh my! my!

mein mutter
still confuses

  joseph goebbels with
hermann göring -

did you know...
****** was a commoner,
but heinrich himmler
was of the noble sort?
yeah... why expect
a nobleman to exhort such
banality to re-compensate
                          the guillotine?

two decent Nazis though:
Rudolph Heß...
und...
       Erwin Rommel...

   die zwei!

  beside the two?
             curators of evil,
these h'amricans...
with their puritanical excuses...
always the army of excuses...
the Americans constitute
an army of excuses...
never an "ideology"...
but always the "excuse"...
purposive in being adamant
on the metaphor of good,
never the metaphor of evil...

      always the crux-built
fracture of foundation...

die dritte...

                  Karl Dönitz...

hamburger army...
sure... love you...
              Chinese Levi -
Bangladeshi shirts...
Kenyan hamburgers...
and you wonder why
there is an economic displacement?
my people were happier
under a Communist regime...
with an iron-works factory...
simply because...
McDonald's didn't provide
jobs for a hundred people,
but because the iron
factory provided work for
1000 people...

       war... there were always too forms
of war...
          oddly enough:
i'll find you the Nazis i admire...

       because, "oddly" enough,
there are some i admire...
   well... let's call them the trinity...

     you can't make the bargain of reverting
totalitarianism on all the ****...
the argument follows:
there were some,
who resisted...
            and i name, but three.

your turn to play the poker;

what did
amon goeth say about
the Polish king Casimir the great
welcoming Jews into Poland?
very little...
either gassed them,
or shot them doing
beside the menial tasks
of quasi-labor.

yes... the holocaust did happen...
6 million+ jews died...
as 6 million+ cows die in a
slaughterhause (schlachtenhauß)...
but who did really die
in the holocaust?
   beethoven died,
            wagner died,
         leibniz died...
            mozart... goethe...
nietzsche...
     they died...
der deutschegeist sterben!
                 and the german spirit
is not the hebrai spirit
                  what dies remains dead...
unless it's born from
a hebrews' stubborn pact of
agitating a god to continue his promise:
one divine intervention,
mythical at this point...
and then... yo-yo toying with
promises, with prophecy upon prophecy...
but never delivering, only teasing...
till the people believe themselves...
   and a load of other drunken *******...

lucky me to write this drunk,
the sober me gets to appreciate
the cricket world cup.

On a school trip to a gallery,
Teachers and curators will always tell you
Look upon, examine, appreciate the art!
But they’ll never instruct you
On how to be certain
That your appreciation is acceptable and right.
Conundrum of the contemplative,
Judgement of the partisans,
Cogitation of any aware,
I’ll ponder until my encephalon
Subsides under impactful pressure
Until the logical or the just is no longer right.

Through incandesce of the morning,
In the cloak of the ever-mantling night,
Here I revel in the concept of
Eternal glee through appreciation
Of nostalgic kitsch, and graffiti—
And hyperrealism as well as photoshop

Because love isn’t just omnipotent,
*It’s incomprehensible.

As culled from an arts magazine, 13 March 2019

Socialist Realism - The official doctrine in Soviet art and literature after 1932 that evolved from the traditional commitment to social and civic concerns into an all-pervasive general ideological mandate.

            -Yevgeny Yevtushenko, 20th Century Russian Poetry


collective exhibition space vibe community
interactive narrative brown neighborhood
defined commodified Indigenous
identity tone-deaf decolonial
narratives populist intertwined
exhibition curatorial vision
culture local artists arts district small galleries
DIY spaces speaking out against
gentrification displacing shelter
studio space elsewhere late stage capitalism
collective mantra underdog art savior
corporate entity partnering insensitive
ignorant collective brown people art
contemporary work that may not fit
into establishment art galleries
media advisory venture collaborate
creative community authentic
local statement of expression excitement
creative energy arts district project
many levels collaborate local
creative important creative
community what that collaboration
looks like ongoing local artists going
to be engaged in planning commissioned
project community buy-in consulted members of the creative community Indigenous artists curators museum
directors professors burgeoning landscape
cultural framework critique talk individuals
entities inclusivity open
dialogue opportunities project
conversations collaboration discuss
your projects share our work with you
common ground work together healthy sustainable
accountable decolonization

In 1983, the Fashion Design Council burst on to the Melbourne scene like a Liverpool kiss to the mainstream fashion industry. Inspired by punk's DIY aesthetic and armed with an audaciously grandiose title, an earnest manifesto and a grant from the Victorian government, FDC founders Robert Buckingham, Kate Durham and Robert Pearce were determined to showcase the burgeoning Melbourne design scene in all its outrageous glory.

"People resented hearing about Karl Lagerfeld," says Durham. "Our movement was against the mainstream and the way Australians and magazines like Vogue treated Australian designers."

Over its 10-year lifespan, the FDC launched such emerging designers as Jenny Bannister, Christopher Graf and Martin Grant. But what was perhaps most exciting was the FDC's ecumenical approach. Architects, filmmakers, artists and musicians all partied together at runway shows held in nightclubs.

"It was an inventive time when people came together and made people notice fashion," says Durham.

Among the creative congregation, Durham remembers artist Rosslynd Piggott, who constructed dresses of strange boats with children in them and filmmaker Philip Brophy, who used "naff" Butterick dress patterns. Elsewhere, an engineer made a pop-riveted ball dress out of sheet metal. The crossover between music, art, graphic design and film extended to architects such as Biltmoderne (an early incarnation of celebrated architects Wood Marsh) who designed the FDC's favourite runway and watering hole, Inflation nightclub.

"Clothing was confronting," says Durham. "It was brash and tribe-oriented. It was quite good if you weren't good-looking. People liked the idea that this or that clothing style was going to win you friends."

Today, however, even Karl Lagerfeld has a punk collection. To complicate matters, "fast fashion" appropriates the avant-garde at impossibly low prices. The digital era too has caused the fashion world to splinter and bifurcate. What's a young contemporary designer to do?

"The physical collective is no longer that important," says Robyn Healy, co-curator of the exhibition High Risk Dressing/Critical Fashion, which uses the FDC as a lens to view the current fashion landscape. "These are designers who are highly networked through social media who put their work up on websites."

Fashion designers still use music, film and architecture, but in different ways. Where FDC members might document its runway shows with video, studios such as Pageant use video as the runway show and post them online. Social media is perhaps the big disrupter. Where FDC designers might collaborate with architects, today it's webdesigners.

"Space has changed," says Healy. "Web designers might be the equivalent of the architect today. It's a different use of space."

As grandiose as the FDC, yet perhaps even more ambitious in scope, is contemporary designer Matthew Linde's online store *** gallery, Centre for Style. Like the FDC, it offers space for "artists who aren't at all designers per-se, but they're dealing with a borrowed language from fashion", Linde told i-D magazine.

"It's an extraordinary juggernaut across the world with a huge amount of Instagram followers," says co-curator Fleur Watson. "[Linde] has created a brand that uses social media in an interesting avant-garde way."

Yet unlike their often untrained FDC counterparts, these designers are perhaps the first generation of PhD designers, notes Watson. "Robert Pearce had a belief in culture changing the world. That's what these new designers are reflecting on in their research, their position in the fashion world and how do they change the way fashion works?"

While it's also true that new technologies offer exciting possibilities in embedded fabrics and experimentation with 3D printing, fast fashion has created certain expectations.

As Cassandra Wheat of the Chorus fashion label laments: "It's just hard for people to understand the complexity and the value that goes into production without being really exposed to it. They think they should have a T-shirt for cheaper than their sandwich."

During the course of the exhibition Chorus will produce its monthly collection from one of the newly designed spaces within the gallery. The exhibition's curators have commissioned three contemporary architects who, like its '80s counterparts, work across the arts, to interpret FDC-inspired spaces. Matthew Bird's Inflation-influenced bar acts as a meeting place for the exhibition's forums and discussions on the contemporary state of fashion. Sibling architects abstracts the retail space, while Wowowa's office design resembles a fishbowl. For Watson, the exposed shopfront/office has as much front as Myer's. Its architecture suggests the type of brazen confidence every generation of fashion design needs. Says Watson: "Fake it till you make it."Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/cocktail-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2017

Inventors of the past
Curators of the future
Writers, speakers, dreamers,
Teachers of great potential.

They have read, written,
Shared the bountiful food of wonder
-Unable to be conceived-
Only partially decoded

Who are we
To take the reigns of such magicians?
To think innovative thoughts,
To uncover precious words
hidden by the legendary dust of rustic times,
To transform, evolve,
bend the titanium frames
constructed by gifted architects,
To be new
Defiant, different
Right or wrong?

Revisited Merak harbor one late evening
a shape of sea fairy and colorful torches
were seen from afar , chattering calls  in 4 languages. 4 squalls in  once was a plage
their dancing  flames asked me to come closer

I hurried along the sleepy shipyards
passing massive warehouses fenced by rusty wooden doors
giant padlocks accenting  (reminded me of a  fancy cocotte loaded with blingbling)
stacks of oversized containers  solidly sat speechless.  Sleepless.

The light of each torch lifted into the sky. Seen by another eye
1883 eruption of the Krakatau crater.  130 years later the odor of its curators  
I ran closer. I fell.  I laid there a while , got up and ran again.
I lost my head and missed my right foot along the way.  I did not care.

When I arrived  the torches were there in front of me
reincarnated  into thousands inhabitants who had lost their lives
bodies covered with revolting cesspit oil  
For a second  they transformed into torches again.  One blazing in my hands.
Regretfully, I had lost my head so I did not understand.

The fairy stared . I wasn't scared.

:  come, come, …come purifying Sunda strait
dissatisfying the idiots thought it could all be fixed with tax rate
I moved toward  embracing fairy arms  
(Possibly, this close hugging love was only for beach-sea friends)

So, I united with the torches
A bit of a breach  pushed us towards the petroleum . Demolished it all.  Cannonball.
Black fog shrieking that same  words : Keep up the struggle .  Stay strong !
The alien residents might think I was making choices
but the fairy was leading me around
the torches reshaping the ghost-town

Chattering calls  in 4 voices.   4 languages.
Yet, for the officials ears , all were still voiceless.  Pointless.  



(Pulo Merak - Cilegon - Indonesia )

A world of desolation
And romancing sewers:

Rotting animal carcass
Asymmetrical,
Compacted in art
Galleries
And praised for its realism,

Curators drawn to its
Intricate textures and
Cobblestoned streets—

They sprawl,
Like a cannibal's playground.

Twisted-
A street map
Spilling over

Like their stomachs.

Our city lights,
however small in comparison,
nullify the countless Stars
of the wondrous night Sky.

Perhaps
this is analogous to how
things that seem to be
so very close,
so very small,
so very benign,
so very familiar,
so very attainable;
things of our conscious creation;
can preclude even the very awareness
of far greater,
far more beautiful,
far more powerful things;
both external and internal;
both transient and eternal;
and why we must
take great care
and
act with great tact
and
act with immense respect
if
we, as mortals:
curators of reality;
are to be trusted
with such effervescent potency.

There is a path.
Its rickety bridges dangle you over the jaws of despair;
I welcome the jagged teeth with pursed lips.
A planet does not choose its sun.
This diminutive island orbits obediently, tracing an oblong avenue
Around a heavenly beacon which burns at close range,
But protects from the uncharted perils of a frozen infinity
Beyond the horizons of our understanding.

Books.
Here they are seemingly as plentiful as stars in the great expanse.
For every one I read, there are a thousand more
That could pour out of my fingertips without warning.
Here on these shelves (and in my hands) are words –
Legions of ideas, cries for help, and declarations of the self –
Collecting dust to pass the time.
Bound by a spine, each page is a painting,
Or a singular brush stroke;
It depends where on the museum’s crisscrossing paths
We place it.
I am allowed to manipulate
These likenesses with my own unkempt paws.
I sift through each layer with great care.
Poised above my isolated figure is a cloud of silence.
Luridly dark, it threatens to immerse every shelf in its corrupting solitude.
My fascination decays into sorrow.
Curators grow weary.
Thick lenses become damp with labored breath.
A tomb of these words encases the regenerative key
Our depleted cityscape so desperately needs.
But the museum has not received enough submissions; funding is being cut.
Fingers spanning a soiled palm have grown tired of the dirt.
Limp breezes are now strong
Enough to disconnect them
Permanently
From the words that burn at close range.
They allow themselves to drift, because it’s easier.
It is cleaner, more “cost-efficient”.
Straying from the museums, we drift from realization (from reality, even)
Into delusions of creation and achievement.
Lo! How accomplished we are!
We, the Cash-Rich People of the Thought-Poor States,
In order to form a more synergized union,
Do downsize the words that disseminate from our digits,
Dutifully drowning them out with more rambunctious
Gurgles from our gullets.


Curators warned and a generation of disobedient phalanges paid no mind.
My feeble hands mold a clay cadaver, grooving oily prints into its hull.
This incoherent signature will fall perpetually unnoticed between the cracks.
No one is looking.

Friends, while composing the ‘Story of Italian Renaissance in Verse’, I read about the history of Mona Lisa, and had composed this poem on the 30th Dec 2010, posting it on various poetry
sites where it was liked. Hope you like it too, – Raj.

A TRIBUTE TO DA VINCI’S MONA LISA

BACKGROUND :
Unlike the legendary Helen of Troy, Mona Lisa’s
enigmatic smile,
Never launched a thousand ships as 'Dr. Faustus'
had said;
Yet she continues to inspire artists, poets, and
viewers alike till this day,
Even though five intervening centuries have passed
our way!
Leonardo Da Vinci who had left many of his paintings
incomplete;
Commenced painting 'Mona Lisa' in 1503 AD, taking
four long years to complete!
He had carried the portrait with him for sixteen
long years,
While seeking work in Milan, Rome, and during his
exile in France!
But after Leonardo's death in 1519, the portrait became
the possession of Francis the First, the French King.
But later, Louis the XIV had moved 'Mona Lisa' to his
Royal Palace at Versailles!
It had also adorned Napoleon’s bedroom, who hung
it over the mantelpiece for some time.
We learn from Art Historian George Varsi, that the
portrait belonged to one Lisa Gherardini.
She was the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant,
Who had commissioned Leonardo to paint his
wife’s portrait.

AESTHETIC VALUE OF 'MONA LISA' :
Leonardo here creates an innovative painting style,
Using oil instead of tempera on poplar wood panel,
which was unique in his time!
The three quarter pose with a wide pyramidal base,
A ‘stumato’ blending of translucent colours with
light and shade ,
Creating depth, volume, and form, with a timeless
expression on Mona Lisa’s countenance!
Here, Leonardo’s passion and pre-occupation of a
life time came together,
As he waved his magic brush to create 'Mona Lisa'!
Lisa’s mystic smile with its play of light and shade,
Appears and disappear when viewed from different
sides,
Creating an optical illusion before the viewer's eyes!
Mona’s mystic smile and her gaze, creates a mixed
emotion on her countenance,
Mesmerizing the viewers as they stand before it to
admire and gaze!
Insurance Companies have declared that this portrait
is beyond Insurance, -
Since its value remains priceless!

SECURITY MEASURES ADOPTED :
In 1911, during broad daylight from Louvre in Paris,
The painting was stolen by an employee!
He hid it for two years in an attic, before smuggling
it to Florence in Italy;
And was apprehended trying to sell it to an art
dealer clandestinely!
Later in 1956, a mad man named Ugo Ungaza,
Threw a rock creating a patch near the left eye
of 'Mona Lisa'!
The Art Curators at Louvre now toil ceaselessly,
To preserve this fabulous painting for posterity!
Today the priceless 'Mona Lisa' is housed in a
dehumidified, air-conditioned container,
Protected in a triple bullet-proof glass chamber;
With six million tourists visiting her every year!
“It is the ultimate symbol of Human Civilization ”
  - exclaimed President Kennedy!
And with this I pay my tribute to Mona Lisa of
Leonardo da Vinci,
Thanks for reading patiently, from Raj Nandy of
New Delhi.

The hidden hustlers.

Most of the time, we question the focus of the people we know who are used to having multi faceted things going on with their lives. Stereotypically, most folks have one track sense of judgement on their failures blaming it on the lack of time because of the multiple things those multi faceted people do. There is a known imperative for the common haters, keyboard warriors and ****-hurts of the judging world of current social media to capitalize on the mistakes rather than what has been accomplished, boiling down to, yes, lack of focus.

These people are low-key hustlers. These are people who have massive amounts of real pursuit in terms of things outside their core jobs. People who are the reasons why charities exist, and the same category of people why art forms in this earth continue to be significant. They are usually those folks who are the outliers of the common society, and what a joy to meet and get inspired by these people.

And yes, they are the ones who has people’s eyes sticked in their backs for most part of their lives. The ones who are often exposed to criticisms and judgement, particularly to things like lack of focus during the event of setbacks and misfortunes. When a failure arises, the first one to blame is the lack of focus. I’ve experienced it myself and to the other people, and some, to the closest circle where I personally noticed the struggle in terms of managing their time and their long-lined patience. More than time actual struggle, it’s the stereotyped judgments that hurt them.

But through the years of observation, I found the idea reversed.

Reversed in a sense that I believe that most of the multi-faceted persons have the most solid and ******* focus someone can get from a person. Over the decade of experience in the workplace, those who have side hustles and passion projects are the people who have actual pedigree on lending an extra thousands of miles when tasked to do something. They are the master of balance. They sacrifice their passions hideously depending on human variables such as timing and use of words. They are over-reactive internally and complicated critical thinkers because they won’t allow slightest of any judgement touch and blame the things they are passionate during an event of delays on the tasks they are doing. They know how to sacrifice and be hurt in the process. These are the people who spends sleepless nights just to save their passion projects and keep them afloat in hectic schedules, they are the hustlers in such a way that any loopholes that lead to destroying the things they love can’t be tolerated, so they better put in the hard work hiding in plain sight even if there are no eyes looking, they are masters of making it effortless in the naked eye. But when you dig further on how they do it, you know that they are always in a brink of dying due to misunderstandings and angry loved ones, families and friends because they have been all juggled inside the 24-hour day. Yes they know their shortcomings, but I say, it’s the reverse in terms of  focus.

Some people might relate to this because, I know that these are the people who has thirst to etch something in the world, but is to busy to market and brag it. They have multiple pockets of insane hours and grit on their focal points of pursuits.

Only people with strong focus can be experts in their multi-faceted fields of pursuit. Without massive amount of focus, you won’t be able to build multiple habits. And without the habits, you won’t be experts. Period.

And the funny thing is, often time, people who are judging them on their slightest mistakes are usually reactions from mediocre individuals who are connected with them and sometimes, the victim character who got the lesser attention time from the multi-faceted hustler, thus stirring up pressure because, looking at it, there is a level of dependence, and any delays or setbacks could be  attributed to the ‘so-called’ lack of focus.

These hustlers are people, who are sometimes, difficult to understand. They give vague reasons why they cannot attend a not so important life event. They mastered the art of matured alibis so they won’t hurt feelings. But true enough - they might be insensitive at times.

They get anxiety when they don’t produce something out of their passions. They are curators of their own products. These are the natural creatives, in which, ironically, the stereotype judgment on their mistakes are usually associated with time management issues, lack of focus and improper spending of money on things that majority of people won’t appreciate, or worst, in some eyes, are not important because it doesn’t profit.

I find it ironic when those people who are multi-faceted are more focused than those who are masters of a singular field. We can say that both has focus, but cancelling out the posers, multi-faceted hustlers have the most low-key grit and grind attribute you can find in any human being.
They won’t anyone touch their joys with one-dimension judgement. But they are not showy and everything seemed to be effortless.

So what I'm telling you is somehow the argument is in reverse. They tend to be targeted because of their vague presence, in which results speak for itself. they are working in the shadows - They are the people who inspires, who are strong, and the ones who deserve any small amount of appreciation. They are the people I call the hidden hustlers.

Our ancient lineage contains folds encapsulating hidden wisdom
unfurling at the weathered edges.  
Curling inwards in attempt to direct us to the origin.  
Source.  
Deposits of insight lie within our bloodline,
spiraling beside genetic codes we have carried through lifetimes.  
The quickening has arrived,
through comprehension acceleration and universal language of Love translations.  
Verdant roots nourishing, allowing spiritual nutrients to enhance our brilliance.  
We are
Telluric creatures:Natural teachers
essential to the transfusion of energy between the moon and the sun
We are
the ones, responsible for our is-ness magnification
outgrow foundations we have constructed to keep ourselves from seeing past this self inflicted ceiling.  
It has withheld us from feeling anything beyond this consumeristic dogma implanted in our society,
force feeding us its enigmatic conditioning.  
Detach pre-determined thinking to allow this ever-flowing journey of contemplating mysteries,
abolishing worries of fear in the becoming.  
It takes courage to assert ones self beyond what we have been taught,  
to unlearn ready made thought and rewrite our own scriptures.
Our ligaments are sacred scrolls awaiting our blessing, allowing them to unfold  
leaving lacuna spaces for existence to experience traces of our essence.  
Children of mother earth in collaboration with father time,
the genesis of this breath has appointed us as divine,
intertwined into a perfected geometric composition, we are creation curators of this generation
woven into synthesis,
mastered with our gift of presence,
god-head recollection.

We are all like deformed seraphs
With seven wings that flight death.
We conceive filthy cherubs in swamps,
That dwell in the eden of our own making.

We have inherited muck from our fathers,
Passed on as glorified heirlooms;
And like fools we are, we proudly raise
That useless dirt we crawled out from.

In an effort to save our decadent ways;
We put our own blood over our doors,
And don our fig leaves that wither
As ******* sons and daughters of the earth.

Like heretic church curators we are,
We gather choirs that sing hymns of lies,
As its melody echoes in a swift pace
To defile the hearts of the innocent.

Truth and Beauty, do we even know?
Our own replica of it, we create.
We liken it to things that poison and ****,
And celebrate upon ruins of graveyards.

We have taken Death’s sickle,
And used it to tear the Book of Life.
We sleep in the mount of skulls and bones,
Where our castle of agony lies.

We dwell in the place of worms,
We have built a throne of flesh,
We have dined on decayed carcass,
And drank sulfur for wine.

We have fed our children to the wolves,
As the blood of our people
Seep in the soil of the earth,
And flow in the waves of the seas.

We have crept like marauders
Under the beds of our neighbors,
To slit their throats in their sleep;
So that we may bathe in their blood.

For we all desire to be drenched in blood,
To be covered in its velvet cloak.
Not knowing, that the blood we seek all along,
*Is the cleansing blood that Christ gives.

what has our intelligence done for us
other than soften our instinct
slow down our reflex
made us into habitual
connoisseurs of convenience
curators of insta-gratification  
creatures of know it all
without the need
to understand anything
the universe just
a night sky out of reach
just a spattering of stars dot the sky
all the cosmos overhead
and we are too consumed
by the blue screens that feed
the narcissism of our egos
to look up in awe and wonder
to question the arrogance
of our intelligence
to see how little we know
about the things we know
as we have killed the view of heaven
with the artificial light of our pollution
facts blurred with faith
and we ignore all the fiction
that causes so much friction
that we allow our children...
that we force our children...
to ****** other children
boys feeling like men
poisoned by patriotism and pride
in such a rush to die
for the words of freedom
never stopping to question
the definition of the repetition
and redundancy of war
never stopping to question
the repetition
and redundancy of war
never stopping to question
the redundancy
never stopping
the redundancy
the redundancy of war
as we will not question the intelligence
that infects us with
the sovereignty to be exalted
by our own cruelty
how else could we excuse
our history that keeps repeating
keeps its transcripts written
in the death and blood of the innocent
mislead by prejudice and hate
taught by fear and ignorance
all brought to us
by what we call intelligence

why were we given these hearts
this muscle beating below our ribs
what good is it
if only driven
by the intellect of our minds
our self indulgent intelligence
why have hearts at all
if we never stop to listen
listen to the message
of its beating
its pounding on our ribs
if we never stop to accept the wisdom
it sings in ever silent word
words that need no definition
need no ink or blood
written down in a declaration
of its reason to be living
it needs not our intelligence to survive
our intellect to live
it has its own wisdom
the wisdom of love
and in our grand intelligence
we are too blind to see
too deaf to hear
too unwilling to feel the truth
of how useless any intelligence is
without the wisdom of love

I see a green tree. It is all I want.
A dry rocky mountain and a hawk
satisfy. To die spiritually in
the hot sun and the body go on
climbing. To take the paths among
the rocks and mahogany bush.
To feed on rock lichen and blue
sky. To not need a house.

To leave my mind in the foothills.
To climb everything but blind. In
the deer shade of the cool aspens.
Forgotten by the work force and the shrew.
Bored as a badger disturbed at
its stream. Free singing as the stream
cutting the gorge. Cool as a hummingbird
in its wet spray. Caterpillar fur.

I stay in the mountains unknown.
The roof soot of the city calls me back.
The museum women shaking their bodies
at the stuffed tigers. The meditating
curators and entrepreneurs. Burro.

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

Old Basho, early Spring, took fond leave of his friends,
closed his small house at edge of village,
and with one peasant companion climbed the long narrow road to
      the North.

Blessed morning!
      the day I left life behind
            but not this world of dew.

I suspend disbelief, I do
Pretend for glamour’s sake,
That I’m standing in line, not walking down
Legging capri utopia, but style,
Books, Asian fusion,
And I open my window to outside fire trucks,
Sometimes voices, to pretend I’m not in small-town
Southeastern Ohio.
I close my eyes to a new, non self-conscious,
Self-aware vision.
Well, it was once a real moment:
In a studio apartment, nervous about my mom
Downstairs, outside, below me
Smoking a cigarette on the sidewalk.
Afraid she’d get jumped when I was eleven, or twelve, or thirteen.
Forgetting she’d lived in New York City
in the 1980s when she was
Eighteen.
I didn’t have any fears for her then.
I didn’t have anything for anyone.
I didn’t exist, and I wasn’t afraid
All the time, of something.
I exist now and I watch my back in small town USA,
But I still make wonder visions,
Beautiful, rhetorical, hypothetical
Walks in October five ‘o clock sunshine.
Me, and a book, and take out food walking back to work,
Where my work will be to write this down,
To try my ****-dest to convey what I felt
Out there, on the street.
That self-importance, comfort of the light
In my eyes, and my dark pants, too, they mattered,
And an imaginary cigarette from the ether,
The sun-ray concoction.
It’s almost the exact feeling of sitting on couches,
Next to my aunt’s bubblegum pink ceramics in Brooklyn.
Thinking—how glamourous.
Pretending the one room apartment was mine.
Pretending I could live in such close proximity to a stranger.
Another person, who I may or may not find strange.
Pretending I wasn’t made uncomfortable by the women
Wearing hot dog and hamburger bun bikinis dancing
In kiddie-pools in broad daylight.
How bizarre. While my brother and I played war
Upstairs. “That’s art,” someone probably said, in a
Fenced in small grassy plot in a neighborhood in Chicago.
Later in college, I’d say “the best art makes
us uncomfortable,” and my professor who loves
young adult fiction will applaud me for my incite.

An inherent desire for brass,
And fire escapes, and being
Consumed by tall buildings, and bars
On rooftops is not…
Natural.
It must be media-induced.
I consumed a fair amount of media
That glamourized and shined up and cultured
Cities for me.
Then I went there and saw that I was fearful,
Yet wanted to feel important inside of something vast.
I want to talk to curators of museums about
Everything I’ve learned and haven’t learned.
I want to impress myself with knowledge of streets,
And towns, and maps.
Out of my element, maybe I am finally ready.
Out of mostly whiteness, most of the time,
Into people I’ve never met, people I never thought
I’d know well, into hoping that I can sit in a different
Kind of circle, in a new conversation,
Restoring, transforming,
Wanting to say some sincere things, and
Make some observations in earnest.

What is the air breathed in by the millionaire?
The same as inhaled by the slum-dweller?
The monopoly on air is great!
Or imagined?

A false dichotomy, a false pretense,
a logical fallacy, a paradox and contradiction. Linguistic sounds murmured and mumbled by orators and curators.

The breath of life is the worlds most beautiful gift, but also a mundane commodity,
It is in a perpetual state of being unwrapped and re-wrapped,
Transported by logisticians,
Prepared by makers,
Packaged by designers,
Consumed by the user,
Expelled by the waster,
Salvaged by the recycler,
Reminder of our life,
Reminding us of our mortality
Which we so frequently forget.

Breath is without choice,
We are unforced,
We flow the atoms inside us
Which our lungs are built to contain,
But particles need to be expelled.
As all good things must come to an end,
So must the ego we wish to contain.

Nature's masculinity is all too powerful, dominating the global hemisphere. His spheres of influence are enermous and his allies volatile.
Fire, metal, lightning, magma, stone, thunder.

An awesome feat,
We have learnt to harness electricity,
The ecstatic delight,
The shock of wonder,
We are galvanised into apathy,
Wired on our technology,
Device on finger,
We have yet to integrate the complex organic with the intricate artifical.

The technology of air is a great invention, invented by an invisible nothingness, an empty void of silence, a chasm of infitissimal unmeasurableness.
We have yet to harness this ancient element.

As we race about and fulfill our desires,
Humans, thought to be different,
No, we are a microcosm of repetition, a chain reaction, a catalyst of a parralel universe.

We have created our own branch of nature,
We are a branch hanging off the trunk
Our own pecking order,
We are not elemental isolates from the land which we once grew on.
Diamonds are made from carbon.
Flesh from cell.
Cell from atom.
Interconnected, neural and galactic.
The microscopic projections playing through our planetary minds:
Sharp as the claws of beasts.

The tiger rattles its chains,
Exuding its own glory,
Its notoriety known amongst
The lesser kingdom dwellers.
Is it moral to cease the latters' lives early on, severed by the hand of sentient and intelligent conciousness?

The grand old question proposed by philosophers.
To **** or to be killed?
To live or to die.
War or peace?
Answers and binaries, we rush in attempt to answer both,
The sedate and the anxious professors will philosophise,
Knowledge will reach the masses,
Ignorance remains.

Time will pass and death will come to all of us,
Mortality an unstoppable force,
an unstoppable ticking,
A machine in the clockwork of nature,
A cog that has been inhabited by life,
An abstraction colonised by thinkers and doers,
All on the same trajectory of the unknown.
Powerless and hopeless civillians, grasping and clinging desperately on an immense rocketship,
Fighting for survival.
Are we preparing for a greater good or a we headed into the dark oblivion?

The corporations too - perceived as more powerful -
Know they have land and
Ownership of property,
Exerting their will
In an extravagant and
Flamboyant fashion.
A luxurious and pompous display,
A model for citizens to admire

Sooner than we know,
The invisible does become visible,
The curtains are opened.
Even denyers become believers.
The windows of facades,
To be scratched. Will be clawed.

We lament and count our losses,
But the trees remain grounded,
Roots are always shifted,
Loggers cut down beasts of beauty,
All too common, there are all too many treefellings.
Her presence is sparse and dense.

We raise, we grow and then we prepare and consume.

Is it so strange we do this to eachother when we do this to nature?

In a internation that worships success and scolds failure, how can the failure be allowed to live?
He is at the mercy of the lucky,
he is at mercy to dissaproval,
he is at mercy to mockery.

The air she does not distinguish between worthy and unworthy, she gives lovingly to children of the earth.
Is it not time love ourselves to love eachother and love her back?

Is it much more powerful to imagine utopia than to disdain dystopia?
We are a dusty age that Mother blows away with her strength of love.

We forget her might,
Her fury, her will.
She: more powerful than all of us.
The earth can crack,
The skies will burn,
The seas will flood.

Our might is remembered by historians,
Our strength is revealed through leaders,
Our vulnerability is exposed.
Our secrets are brought to light.

We are as evil the land.
Life lived in the grey.

I remember the time when little Timmy was getting beat up
A group of them kicked and stomped on him till he bled out
It's pretty graphic but his skull was fractured like a broken chestnut
The world is a ****** place, dog eat dog out there and little Timmy
Well he never liked it out here, he always said that this world was corrupt
This world with evil, vile, inhumane people who think they are important

If you ask me, those group of kids are no different than the government
Don't even get me started on the people who are above the government
They are **** of the earth who want nothing more than the universe
Nothing but a bunch of predators who find bliss in watching those suffer
Curators of false truths and disasters, one hand over the eye and another over a dagger soaked in the blood of the innocent
They may be worse than tyrants but they sure as hell are intelligent
I suppose that isn't true.. maybe society is blinded by their brilliance

Society, going from one place to another like hollowed-out drones
Dreams lost into the ether, living in sorrow with both hands on their iPhone
Leaving what could have been to the Unknown, milestones never reached
And nothing remarkable on their gravestone

Don't let that be you, take control of your life and chase your dreams
Become the better you, believe and keep your head held high
Your time is nigh and you will succeed.

I sense loss and yearning all around
I used to chalk it up as a personal hurdle to jump
or just the feeling of aging while the youth still goes on
Yet I think I this malaise is widespread
Impacting all of us in our glitching global trade

I used to think the issue was there’s just too much now
Too much to watch, listen, and taste
You don’t need the hunt anymore
Don’t need to wait or pay some exorbitant price
I used to feel overstimulated by the streams
and just could not decide
I still feel, it’s not that we want to do the thing,
but we yearn to want to want to do the thing
again

Is that all that’s changed?
Those who are not ready to be creators
will certainly not be ready to be curators
Freed ourselves from DJs and TV programming
but what control have we flailed ourselves into?
Wasting hours a day watching 30 second videos
whose categories are heavily curated
impersonally, just for you
Remember when user preferences worked
and in searches they wouldn’t hide the whole list
of all that was relevant and new?

we do not live in historical times -
there's a logic of time,
for sure, but this logic of time
does not essentially levitate to
a stand-still of fact making history -
i personally do not believe that i live
in historical times,
i live in times of regurgitation -
maybe that's due to the fact
that i am a contemporary of these
times, but it must also encompass
the events in the given space-time
area of interest that i allocate with
my mortality...
            it is almost strange to live
through a history, without having
an impetus to engage with it,
and this non-engagement is not
cowardice, rather:
    lack of interest or lack of
engagement-intuitiveness...
           the stage is ready,
but the actor is missing,
  simply because the missing actor,
cannot recognise the said stage,
as being a stage!
  the stage is merely a prop!
           what's most bewildering
is the shock-value of western nations
finding central europeans
  having a collective identity,
why, may i ask, is the nationalism
of poland so abhorrent
to western nations, requiring
journalists to use up the neo-****
gravitas?
              of all nations,
of all peoples, the only nationalism
that makes senses is that of israelis
and poles...
   how about your nation takes
an interlude in the chasm of non-existence?
how about your ethno-state takes
a holiday?
         100+ years, ~2000 years,
what does it matter, right?
       this nationalism is not ultra-/far-right
when you think about:
the right of identifying the nation
and the loss of an individual...
                 once upon a time
communism reflected the collectivism
of every man owning a hammer...
translate that communism into
nationalistic collectivism and the hammer
is replaced with homogeneity of genes...
that's neo-****? argument coming
from post-imperial un-imperial states
unable to make the national cut...
                this sort of journalism
stems from an insecurity...
   this argument comes from an
insecurity of: well, pretty hard to be
a nation in a post-imperial / post-colonial
era...
        no wonder...
the poles didn't have a nation for over 100 years...
you won't have a nation in the next 100.
it's not a question of whether i support them,
it's just the body count...
              in exile you get all
defensive about your common ****
of compatriots,
once we called them comrades,
now they're compatriots.
         why is the sudden "surprise"?
   a nation that roam the earth
like an ******* cup of *****
  doesn't  require individual thinking,
individual think is a precursor of
a schizoid condition...
   the tearing and shredding of
   a chaotic vector, it's the sort
of geography you hear on the moon,
the copernican question on the moon
begins with: where's east? where's west?
where's north? where's south?
               quasi-verbatim heidegger:
modernity lacks all sense of a question -
or a desire for a questioning narrative -
modernity is focused upon either
fact (masculine) or opinion (feminine) -
women have overly established
themselves as opinion curators -
men hold the "sway" on facts...
                   we live in a "modernity"
that has no quest for a question,
    we live in times of:
     only answers, and answers alone;
hardly erratic, more:
                              perverted by
          supposedly never being wrong.
but what is being tempted by
un-historiological times?
   perhaps, actual history?
            once upon a time history was
managed by either day, month, or year...
now it's monitored by the minute...
             time itself became time per se,
while history became space -
even though history delves in the study of
future-hindsight-past,
    history is no longer a study of time,
it's a study of space,
pockets of time, lost, dislodged from
the curriculum of chronology.
  a written history levitates upon
   a time-frame of expecting delayed-repercussions,
modern history, current history
has repercussions, although without
a delay...
                hence the shortening
of a time-"frame" -
  something truly horrific happened when
we became globally networked,
   sharing a single space, with interworkings
of dislodged pockets of time
congregating into a single space...
      the english with their 1066...
the poles & lithuanians with their 1569...
the americans with their 1787... etc.
then again, i stick to my guns...
there's either a man that gives advice,
or a man that gives facts...
    well... maxims...
most notably my
             maxim above maxims,,
   my categorical imperative is not my own,
it belongs to alexander dumas'
  character athos from the three musketeers,
solum optimum consulium, est dare consulium non;
i admit, my latin is not
on par with the pope...
        should be, given that i went to
an irish catholic school in seven kings...
translated the only good advice? is to not give
advice.
        apologies for the scruffy latin...
oh, right, in a quasi post scriptum:
        there's no greater currency than
giving your attention...
          the pop videos get pennies...
sure, a lot of onlookers...
but how many are, absorbed?
                   there is no greater currency
than attention...
                 a filled attention span is
a full transaction...
                     goldfish drop pennies worth of scales
into a bowl of goldschläger.

all i need is you and me
to rhythmically breathe
this chemistry

let the air release
the bliss i feel beneath
the deep pigments
that compose the skin tone
that is yours like me
when i am consoled
by you, my harmony

the figments of chaos
that barricade logic
from my
barren
    vacant
   mind
reassure me
as any talented sadist would
that my work is greater for
being for the greater good
...that i am far from good
for i far supersede
what all talented sadist
curators ever could

and if not for the poetry
your exhales hand
my mishandled ears
i wonder
if i would ever again
be able to feel.

- end

My
white
jag
of
heartbeat
on the
panorama
wall,

scrawled
like
a stock
market,
or
lightning.

Strange
thoughts
moved
through
me in
that
swerving
jetty of
blood
slip:

I kept
saying
your
name,
as if
the air
would
part
at the
seams
& reveal
you,

& when
I went
outside
my
pulse
splayed
itself
across
the lawn.

I read
a tedious
novel
of sun,
while
around
me
families
carouseled
with
lovers.

I felt
like my
heartbeat
remained
visible
to all
of them,
that they
all
saw it
taken
from
the
museum
wall
by
careful
curators
and
presented
to you.

i couldn't possibly do these sort of shifts 7 days a week,
i just did these brutal shifts back-to-back
the past Saturday and Sunday...
those: once in the blue moon or rather...
when the football season is finishing and sports is dead
and musical festivals and concerts take the priority
of the crowd...
it's so unlike working in construction:
sure... you may have to wake up at 5am...
  start work at 8am... but you finish work at 3pm...
4pm... get home for 6pm and relax a little...
recharge...
   because you go into a construction site and you're
like: right... this and this needs to be done...
and it gets done: or it doesn't get done...
esp. with roofing: it all depends on the weather...
if it starts raining you're not going to sit around:
clock in 8 hours when for half of those hours you
didn't do anything... you're not going to sit in the canteen
and read the ******* newspaper... are you?

what's the difference? this current job i'm doing
is apparently so, oh so easy... crowd management...
management of a drunk crowd is always easy...
right? nothing can go wrong when a bunch of men
start drinking and become emotionally stunted
when watching football, right?

                    i woke up at 6am... left the house at 7am...
started my shift at 8:15am... finished at... 7:30pm...
got home at: five minutes shy of 9pm...
   i had to wash my ***... smear it with a good dollop
of cream... change my underwear
because... the pair i was wearing throughout the day
turned my *** into a: snail slugging it across
******* sandpaper...
    prior to starting the shift i did the next best thing
to eating twice while on it... i took a ****...
once upon a time i would keep it in...
   head-spinning... sometimes feeling like i've been
hit with a hammer over the head trying to fall asleep
on the tube... woken up by the lodged **** in my ****...
no more!
      so i took a dump like: "****-Break" takes a ****
in American Pie... toilet paper spread all around the public
toilet seat...
    ooh... better than an ******...
but then? where did all that gas came from?
and i'm not even talking: stinking solipsistic farts...
that you identify yourself with...
i'm talking... silent: a cow just sneezed sort of farts...
maybe that's why my *** is so sore...
but these shifts are brutal... i couldn't do 5 days in
a row... i'd be mad to do them...
three weekends in a row is enough...

                mind you: today i had to cover two football
games back-to-back...
unlike the Tyson Fury boxing match...
these, were, not, fun...
   fun in the sense of: the stadium was split...
19K for for the first match... blue and parts
of the red zone at Wembley...
start at 12:15pm... finish: thank god one team won
3 - nil in full time...
                 come 2pm we were readying ourselves
for the second crowd...
   during the first match we just loitered...
since our stands were completely empty...
if people think that running is hard...
standing is either harder...
   i tried to ease the strain of my body mass on my legs
by hanging onto the railing and lifting myself up...
i sometimes do that when weighing myself...
imagine how many kilograms you can shed
by standing on the weights and pushing your hands
against a table... from 100kg i can weigh in at about 78kg...
that's using my fingertips...
what if i clenched my fists? how does that translate?
simple maths... me pressing my fingers onto someone
lying down would imply... 22kg of weight...
not mass... weight...
           but if i were to do the same with a clenched
fist? i'll measure that tomorrow...
now... imagine swinging that amount... of weight...
not mass... since my arm / hand probably doesn't
have the mass of 22kg... but it weighs that much...
when there's slow-gravity invoked: pressure...

brutal shifts... but rewarding shifts...
today i had my first proper intervention...
about 20 ******* started screaming at me...
oi oi! yes: you! you... you ******* idiot...
it's hard to not be an idiot of sorts when...
you have 20 other idiots screaming at you
telling you to do something...
as the saying goes:

panic is worse than fascism...
   panic is worse than fascism...
******* wild-eyed clueless sissies...
i walk up to them and say:
you know i can't hear a word you're shouting
at me from several rows up...
since the rest of the people are chanting:
or being disgruntled by the score-line...

get a medic! get a medic!
   what's the problem?
get a medic! shrapnel of: a heart attack...
a stroke! a fainting! ****'s sake: which one is it...
so i ran down and told the "guy with the radio"
that we have a medical emergency...
the guy with the radio mumbles something
into the radio or nothing at all... panic stricken...
control room must have noticed something themselves...
i ran to the first aid room and implored
the paramedics to come quickly...
**** me: quickly for some is slowest to others...
they leisurely gather their equipment and
that silly wheelchair and... take a stroll...
a literal ******* stroll to the point of concern...
by the time they get there:
the medic team of one of the football teams
has already ran up to the point of concern:
person in question...
          
         things were sorted, let's just put it that way,
more medics came... a make-shift wheelchair
that's used to wheel someone from a row of
spectators was employed:

panic is worse than fascism...

        turns out: a false call... yes... it was one
of those instances where an old-timer had
outlived his capability to be a spectator at a live
football match... it was probably he last...
he just sort of "pretended to be a woman"
and fainted... old age caught up with him:
he should have been watching the game from
the comfort of a nursing home: on the ******* t.v.!
he didn't have a heart attack... he didn't have a stroke:
he was mr. smooth panic-inducer...
the sort that's translated into the youth of today
with their panic attacks...
what's someone who's schizophrenic or psychotic
to say?
well... i've been diagnosed with a psychotic "disorder":
i don't know how much of its true
and how much of it is concerning:
what psychiatrists get paid for...
what dead artists do: by employing all those
people after they die... critics, writers of books of
biographies... museum critics...
dead artists seem to be the best employers...
by the looks of it...

the old timer was fine... i took the "principle"
of the scale of escalation and it was sorted within minutes...
but that was the final straw...
i really wanted Wrexham to beat Bromley...
i really did... everything up to that panic inducing
******* was working in my favour in terms
of having a pleasant shift...
but those 20 or so finicky ******* got to me:
as i could be paying attention to someone that
was hidden when they all stood up and
complained! complained! nothing was being done...
done what? done where?!
the ******* were standing up obstructing my view!
apparently it is illegal to persist in standing up
at a sports event! but i was the idiot... or whatever
the hell they called me: because i didn't have
super-sonic hear-aids and somehow could
filter out the noise of the entire crowd from their
manic insinuations:

   there and then i wished my ego of egos...
i hope you lose...
   i hope you leave this stadium drunk with your:
idle ******* sadness of giving a **** about a football match...
how quickly you could switch
from caring more about a football match...
to "somehow" caring about an old man
experiencing fainting like it might actually
be the feeling of falling by a your man
jumping off a car park to his death...
   tut tut... double standards...
to care about "something" that's already reached
its completion... while discarding the thing
that's yet to achieve its potential... tut tut:
like that "riddled" from Eden:
and you will know the difference between
good AND evil...
no... no they won't:
   they'll conflate the two:
call good evil and call evil good...
sometimes they'll get it right...
          because Nietzsche never read Kierkegaard
and Kierkegaard never read Nietzsche...
ergo?
    there's no beyond: either good or evil...
         as there isn't an a/n/d(?)     is there?

but it was oh so smooth prior to this little jitter...
i was wondering...
Wrexham... where's that?
i was inviting people to their seats... greeting them...
blah blah... Wrexham...
then i saw this girl with an inflatable sheep....
and she was holding it... adamant on pushing her thumb
into a little whole in the inflatable sheep's rear...
sheep... Wrexham...

now... i don't have to travel outside of London much
to have the rest of Britain to come to me...
Liverpool fans... great... pristine creatures...
the Irish... the Sunderland crowd...
                    i've lived among the Scots for over three years...
the Manchester pride-boys: ponce after ponce after ponce...
i think only someone from Bristol could
annoy me more...
   but still... that accent... Scotland has its own league...
Rangers... Celtic... Celt and: cedilla borrowed from
the Greek sigma (ς),
i.e. Çeltic: but otherwise K(elt)...
        and Celtic proper... so no garÇon: no French waiter
in the vicinity...

i was having fun... i still couldn't pin point the accent...
the Scots have their own league...
there's no Team G.B. in football... unlike there's
one at the Olympics... why?
so then these Welsh flags start coming out...
you what?! this is the promised horde of sheep-shaggers?!
i wasn't expecting about 30K Welshmen descend
on the capital... oh well...

the usual taking of photographs: first time in the capital...
blah blah...
one guy even had to film me telling me:
you don't really need me in the recording...
to which he replied: oh but i do...
about five teenagers were asking if they could
buy these: thingy-magigs... to tie their flag
to some railing... whether the stadium sold these plastic
tie on... what's the ******* noun!
it's such an impossible noun to find:
if you don't use it! strap-ons?! no...
   binders?! whatever... so i quickly figured out
a solution... how about i get a tissue...
    roll it up... you push it through either of the roles...
and you tie the tissue up...
   good idea they replied: i later saw the flag hanging...
so it worked...
i do have a spare pair of shoelaces hanging on my
doorknob to my bedroom:
but it's not like i'll be walking with a spare pair
of shoelaces in my pocket for occasions such as this:
such "weird" requests...
     so i told them...
        this twisted tissue solution will just have to work...

- cut-in point - cut-in point - cut-in point - intermission -

   / i knew i was tired yesterday, i actually forced myself
to write the above:
   as much as i love the whole QWERTY genius
of: once mastered you don't need to look down at
your hands typing: making knowing the memory erosion
from pedagogy concerning the arrangement of
letters: alphabetically slightly obsolete...
    you can't just create this fake order and then
entertain the chaos of language...
if you wanted order proper... since you're starting
with a vowel... all the vowels should come first...
the actual order would be more coherent
   if it was written as follows:
a, e, i, o, u, b, c, d, f, g, h, j, k, l, m, n, p, q, r, s, t, v, x y, z
that's how the alphabet should be
memorised... it's actually easier that way...
because it's a bit like saying:
acids... cut off point: alkaline(s)...
    beside the point... for all the genius of QWERTY...
if we're talking technicalities of the ctrl+ functions
added to the typewriter...
it's sort of idiotic to have put ctrl+c so close to
ctrl+v...
                  fair enough... ctrl+a is a decent amount
away from ctrl+c... but ctrl+a(ll) of the script
+ ctrl+c(opy): what has v? to with the word: paste?
i can use both hands... it should be ctrl+p...
   because you're tired... and slightly tipsy...
things can go wrong... thank **** i saved as much as
i have saved... to catch the sort of language at the extremities
of consciousness...
                thankfully i remembered what i wrote...
but if i were being truly honest... i lost some original
words... and i sat there... for about half an hour:
i'm never getting them back... i overlaid what i already
saved with extending the salvage project...
      obviously erasing what was to be added to the original
ctrl+a / ctrl+c...

never mind... i've lost dozens of poems like that...
i said: **** it... i'm done with cursing the crucifix...
i'm used to losing precious things...
better get used to it... calmed myself down...
i'm still left with nearly 2K of words from that state
of consciousness...
   i know what i was writing about... i'll just
reword what i "think" i wrote... no biggie...
   and to no surprise... i woke up in a good mood...
i'm done keeping to things...
   some people write a Haiku and think it's somehow
special... i'd find writing so little so dissatisfying that
i think i wouldn't have written anything...

but yes... the alphabet could be better arranged...
because those randomly placed vowels
in between consonants are not really indicative of anything
coherent... people complain that
the people invented the gods...
     that "god" made us in his own image...
but people say: we made "god" in our own image
to excuse our sometimes horrible behaviour...
hence? the inertia of: no divine intervention...
    it's a double-edged sword...
but the alphabet?! we sure as **** created that:
evolved towards it...
i think it needs a coherent revamp...
to hell with the classical model... sure... learn it
if you must... but then rearrange it like i have
rearranged it... so that you put all the vowels
in one basket... and all the consonants in another basket...
at least numbers follow some coherency:
odd, even, odd, even, odd, even...
but obviously you can't do that with letters
since: they're not exactly constructed via a binary
set of standards... you can easily mistake a D for a T...
a B for P... depending on who utters what word...
it's not... vowels "vs." consonants...
for a binary system... you'd need...
the same amount of each possible "choice" of "yes"
or "no": you can have the binary mathematical model
of odd, even, odd, even...
but... in the English language there are...
fives vowels and 21 consonants...
                         and at that: consonants require vowels
to be uttered... be... not ebb...
              then you have things like -SH- and -CH-
   but the original alphabetical order is pointers...
some man created that order... well... i don't like it...
the next time someone asks me
i'll use my model... because i like it...
    the vowels don't need to be inserted randomly
akin to (beside A)
     d e f
       h i j
        n o p
     t u v             unless of course there's some
yet undiscovered mystery concerning this choice
of choice of placing the vowels in that order
and between these consonants...
   some acronym? i'm not even going to think about it...
                                                                                               /

- end of intermission - end of intermission - end of intermission -

the instruments might have changed:
but the hunger is still the same...
i think people have outlived if not exhausted the point
of the selfie...

however women think that taking a selfie
is equivalent to artists painting self-portraits...
sorry: most women are not artists...
the self-portrait is a peering in: an introspection...
it's not about taking a quick-snap...
it's sort of a consolidation of either a beginning
or a break from some subject matter...
for example... Walter Sickert's
first self-portraits as a young man are
not narcissistic... i've have the same "problem"
even though i don't paint (i wish)...
this terrible fascination with the mirror
and that act of peering into it feeling like
my face is about to melt... the youth of a man
as an artist: the treading on allure in darkness
and of darkness and off darkness...
but after a long career: studying Venice's architecture
and Camden Crime Scenes... he returns
to the self-portrait... but by then...
he's painting himself as an old man:
eating a spoonful of beans... or...
by then the photograph was invented and he's
painting a translation of photography...
lucky *******... back in the day when photographs
were black and white... he could work
with colour in a way prior to not envisioned...
with white grey and black...
   he could reignite his imagination of colour:
as if colour didn't exist prior...
the project: the world was always white grey and black...
i don't know why artists didn't figure out
a subject matter on how colour can mutate
when working from a white grey photograph...
why the white cliffs of Dover... calcium rich...
couldn't become... say... yellow...
because of the excess sulphur in them...

now, when i say that i write about "work":
i think i'm actually lying...
i don't "work" work... i have this job so that i can
have enough free time to pursue writing...
didn't i write that dead artists are the best
employers in the world?
aren't they? aren't the scavengers of art critics,
gallery curators not profiteering from the dead?!
thank "god" that poems are not like
paintings... if there is any exhibition of them:
it's all mental... the poem gets dragged with
the person dragging it...
the painting remains on the wall for another
person to appreciate it... still stuck to the wall:
of hollow sighs and other... memoranda...

   but the selfie is not a self-portrait...
women don't take selfies like men used to paint...
the camera has become a makeshift mirror...
it's so alien watching women in public use
a live video feed to check how they look...
i think women are afraid of a mirror...
of the stillness of the lake...
       i think women are more susceptible to
any "improvements" in technology than men are...

besides the point... when i write about work:
i'm actually writing about my interaction with people...
i've oddly reignited an old fling of mine:
i was never a true misantrophe...
   but i could never become a philanthropist... either:
you can be both at the same time: oddly enough...
since there's no exacting term for being
a simple philantrophe...
                             in terms of coughing money...
strange how a love for humanity is associate
more with giving out money: to be left alone...
i.e. being a misantrophe through and through...
than simply giving up something priceless...
your care and attention...

             i've learned to love people...
               not in some luvvy... dubby... eekie sort
of way like: sure... let's grab a pint... let's "talk"...
you have your life: i have mine...
somehow we're here at the same place at the same
time... let's just try to not make this
  too complicated.... savvy?

there's a reason why i'm doing this "work":
some people are envious... even the ones
working in the pharmaceutical industry...
sure... they get paid more... but i also write on the side...
and who can say... yeah... i managed to watch
the Tyson Fury boxing match against Whyte
for free... and i got paid...
i'm surrounded by people who paid to see the match...
i watched it for free... and i got paid "peanuts"...
technically... technically:
if you were to include the price of the ticket...
i was probably "paid" close to a £1000 a gig...
give or take...
       that's why i'm still having a circus of laughter
running through my head...

i'm getting paid to mind drunk: disorientated people
get to their seats...
but at the same time... since December of last
year... i yawn at the events people pay decent
money to attend... i love this dynamic...
i get paid to watch something for free...
i sometimes watch, i sometimes switch off...
the event becomes more boring and
the crowd's reactionary response becomes
more interesting... physiognomy?!
****** expression...

   like in this current event of 20 Welsh idiots
having a "community" panic attack over an old timer
having a hard-breather...
insults pass me by... but "we" got there on time...
even though the first-aiders were taking a
stroll: no one died...
i'm like...
    i need to be among the blood the *****
and the phlegm and the sweat...
the bone crunching arithmetic... found two new
plums (bruises on my hands and legs)
from the excited state they were in: hugging me...

maybe... i'm just relate-able...
i never write about work... if i were to write
about "work": having worked in construction sites...
man is the least mandible substance:
being so firm in his beliefs and existential
cages... it's not water... you can't achieve anything
with man presuming he's water
about to boil at one hundred degrees Celcius...
esp. when drunk

i did wonder... though... where the **** is Wrexham?
or, how would you write it?
'rexham? the W turns into a Hebrew:
yod-surd...
  you don't chant: Wrecks-Hams!
but... jeez: cheese: mind the jazz: Louise!
  W-R? what a dynamic!
the last time i came across such a bewilderment
was within the contained environment of
G-N... i.e. 'nostic... i.e. gnostic...
  
i don't do this "job" for: whatever it involves...
i'm not even going to bother getting
that infamous S.I.A. badge... whoever owns it...
well... let's put it out there...
they, have, really, beautiful, teeth!
or, rather: they don't, have, any...
    either because they were bullied at school or:
whatever... muscle, brass... Belgian pate...
whatever... i was in conversation with this one guy:

- so where are you from?
- Romford... Essex...
- oi oi! oi! oi! cotton candy!

we choked aside... i wasn't pushing him...
whatever the ******* rules are:
no drinking beer in view of the pitch...

- i don't want any trouble...
- believe me, i don't want any either...

the matter: i considered, settled...
we mediated a compromise...
i don't want those
self-aggrandising "badges" in my vicinity...
it's sort of unsettling that they have this
authority... so much of it they exercise without
conscience... without having the psychological capacity
to mediate a soothing conversation...

oh but i do know what i have a menial job...
that it's a low skill job...
dealing with large crowds...
drunk crowds...
like this time when the old timer was having
a hard time having to breath...
and i reacted instantly...
i had about a thousand eyes looking at me...
seeking reassurance...
fear is wide-eyed...
               i was plying poker with them...
stern face...
             do i give a **** whether i'm being paid
"enough": no...
but i guess it might matter when a woman
might say: i don't mind the romance...
but do you have a plan?
technically... i'm sitting on a Nicholas II
last Tsar of Russian banknote...
i might have a plan...
say: to rebuild Damascus...

         forge a 2nd schism of Islam:
spearheaded by the Turkish barbers...
i'd love to work with Turks and Afghan Sufis
to reform Islam...
     whatever i do on the "stage": i'm always doing
something sinister in the background...
but it's like the women i work with fail to
realise: you do know that i've visited brothels,
prior, so... what's on offer?
i too have my standard... albeit they are sinking:
sinking...

i never write about work... people are just
strange...
i was trying to place this current adventure of
accents coming to London...
no... it's not from Liverpool...
no... it's sure as **** not from Manchester...
hmm... where, the, ****, is, Wrexham?!

then the flags came out... white on green
with a blatant dragon across... oh ****... sheep-shaggers
united...
why are all the girls from up north prettier...
more approachable than the girls from the south?!
a girl from Sunderland pulled at my beard
like i was a ******* leprechaun stroking
a bald-patch for good-luck and rainbow...
this other girl from Liverpool kissed my cheek...

that's what happens with reading philosophy:
you want to retain being contained /
content with being amazed: in awe...
the further up north you go: the more of the valley
of the dolls you leave behind...
but the Welsh girls looked sort of...
mystified in their... potential for beauty...
they were beautiful... but sort of neglected...
if i had a woman to mould...

different... Wrexham is pretty close to Liverpool...
but like my "coworkers" mentioned...
they were a hassle... what hassle?!
you talked to them?
we were joking between each other
about me taking extra money for taking photographs
of them...
that's where the old tool and the new tool comes in...
no one... no one... wants to be bound to taking
a photograph of themselves...
it's so much different if someone else is taking
a photograph of you...

you're not painting: you're semi-blinking!
what comparison is evidence?!
to hell, with, female, "logic"!

my two example?

oh... the girl that was working with me:
thankfully she was worried about her youngling
having been left with a child-minder... smashing her
head against a glass table... getting stiches... blah blah...

slaps of the the hand... high fives...
low fives...
   knuckle-bumps... blah blah...
              human traffic... Ryan Reynolds...

KELUAR - PANGUNA (the hacker remix) -

managed to move one drunken guy from
posit X to exact X...
    job done...
          moved another... distressed cry-baby...
wrong this that and the other
               x     y                    z

as i escorted him... he shoved me a tenner (£10)
into my hand... telling me... no one was willing
to help me: beside you...
i refused at first... but he attacked me a second time
with gratitude... i wasn't going to refuse a second time...
so i took the tenner...
took him up to his seat... wow! a free bottle of whiskey!
job done!

on my way back into "position"...
some chubby little hobbit approach me...
- i need to take a selfie with you!
   my friends think i might be wrong!

blah blah... apparently i took up a guise...
a visage of some famous rugby player...
what was the name he mentioned?
i'm pretty sure he mentioned the rugby player's name...

he had to take take selfie with me...
he subsequently took a picture of me on my own...

this other instance: first time out of Wrexham...
filming the whole "thing" walking out of the
vomitory... i said to him: you really don't have
to film me...
he replied: but i do! i do!
        ****... i'm going to become someone's
nightmare...

i never write about work... "work is not work":
arbeit ist nein arbeit!
            "arbeit": ist...

i just think of the hierarchy...
the self-aggrandising self-importance folk...
the ones who would: clearly:
first rather shove and push than
talk "things" over...
           i hate these bullies...
that's what's keeping me back from gaining
a "door" license as a security guard...
i don't like violence...
    from my experience: i'm relateable...
maybe i would get extra pay...
but these are not martial artists...
these people have ****-all clue about
engaging in judo...
they're makeshift rapists...
they might have a high opinion about themelves
because they get five pounds more an hour...
but they're: soft-meat...
they're semi-******* in terms of
what's to be communicated:
i'm not looking for escalation:
out of a Darwinistic obviousness...
i'm looking for a... oh god... a Christian sense
of social-containment sensibility...

             if a crusade is the only pardon...
i need enough pushing... i need enough barbaric...
overtaking...
        i'm waiting... i'm like water...
i need to boil...
                 i'm waiting... die zeit ist nicht reif!
the time is not ripe...
or i need for the earth to... slouch... in her defence...
nur dann!
   only then!

geduld! geduld! warten! warten!
        herkommen... stille... wiegenlied, ich dürfte singen!
s(ch)till sein... alles (ist) güt

Perhaps, I was a peasant in love,
a partly pleasant player
in the prose and poetry
that I present to thee
my cherished queen
of love laden dreams.

Perhaps, I was
the curious cockroach
crawling across
the curators
favorite canvass,
the portrait of our
beloved queen,
to be crushed
carelessly by
the callous king,
becoming a small stain
on the otherwise
unblemished
painting.

Perhaps,
before we past
parting ways,
pondering
old playdates
when we played,
I was your partner
in strange adventures
before my feelings
became too complicated,
before I became
the crestfallen fool,
the King’s favorite jester
who made you laugh
while I tore myself in half
for the sake of your wellbeing.

Now my twin wanders somewhere
out there
unburdened by the broken heart
and if you see him
send him back
so, I can be him
once again.

i sometimes purposively cycle the 20 odd miles
into central London from (circa) Havering-atte-Bower
to simply sit outside a Starbucks by St. Paul's:
drink my black coffee, smoke two cigarettes...
obviously drink the black coffee with an addition
of 50ml of some cheap-*** whiskey and...
experience, what i can best describe as a:
wilderness of people...
i honestly have no other way of phrasing it...
it's a wilderness of people:
comparatively if i were to walk into a forest
or a graveyard: same ****, different cover...
or do as i did today: sit still on a busy
pedestrian clogged street... it's all the same to me...
it just so happened that i was eavesdropping
today: doing some... lauschen:
which is not exactly listening...
i was trying to filter out what this gorgeous...
i'd put her in her 40s... ginger...
American accent was blasting into the telephone...
i actually couldn't make out if she
was talking to someone or merely recording
herself some notes...
while buying coffee i asked for a pen...
took several more napkins than necessary
and started scribbling some half-baked thoughts...
the best ideas came to me while walking:
once... then they came through
sitting on a windowsill and fermenting my brain:
Brian...
now... i need speed... i need traffic...
i need: unconscious spatial coordination...
i need involvement with things that might ****
me...
i need at least 25mph with no exoskeleton...
i need American Head Charge blasting into my ears...
no... i could never be a novelist:
impossible...
i work from the principle of: ensо̄ (macron o?
a bit like omega is to omicron
sort of teasing upsilon: pull: pool etc.)
hell... it is a concept, principle: since there's
no katakana for it...
just the ideogram 円,...
i will have to leave the full ideogram on some
other platform since...
never mind: i'll just leave a p.s.
at the end of this stampede of words...
but ensō goes much further...
it attaches itself to some unfamiliar territory:
i.e. when TAO met MU...
you can write MU in both katakana
and i'm pretty sure there's an ideogram
for it too...
as you can write TAO in katakana:
but i'm pretty sure there's an ideogram
for it too...

backwards & forwards... east meets west...
west meets east...
Alexander went east...
the Persian empire went west...
Genghis Khan went west...
Communism went east...
no wonder that even George Orwell cited
this relationship of Eurasian...
even now... the Russians are in bed
with the Chinese...
not that the outliers of Asia: the Japanese are
somehow clued in...
who's going to get crushed in the dynamic?
who was crushed in the dynamic of Germany
growing an ego-phallus attempting to
**** a Russian-venus-flytrap?
i guess someone from the sort of: moi...
ahem... "persuasion"...
of course the south eastern Asians will feel the brunt
of the tripping... the "collateral" as they like
to call it...
and what's happening now in Europe & elsewhere
if not the GREAT CULL?!
i can play the wolf in sheep clothing for
a while... but even i know that:
the mask is slipping... it's all gooey and not
properly glued to the smiley face...
it's no conspiracy "theory" it's just...
common sense...

oh look (ensо̄ jazz... a googlewhack;
oh that's why... ensō)

i couldn't be a novelist: or for that matter
a painter:
i need to insert something:
but at the same time return to myself,
i.e. get the hell out...
if i had to labour days upon days
that would turn to weeks...
to months... to years...
i think i'd forget what my original
intentions were...
but to write something: antithetical to lyricism:
i will never write
audl lang syne... not that Shakespeare ever
would or could write something
that could be sung! Shakespeare never wrote anything
for people to sing come New Years Eve...
he wrote material for recitation:
sure... there's a genius in that:
writing for... f-f-*******: Thespians...
i imagine an actor growing his own turnips:
not that i'm any better:
i spew words...
but i don't spew recitations...

if it's "b'ah... bad original": well... at least it's
original... i abhor lyricism...
to many rhymes...
i suppose if you want to sing you have
to rhyme... although...
i don't think that auld lang syne is a lyricism
with that much rhyme...
most associated with modern music...
it's: narrative lyricism: which implies...
there's no lyricism to sort of begin with...

ich sehen mein geist:
verdunkelt nach ein nachtgerinnen...

if i start something: i finish something...
i couldn't be an artist from the perspective
of: "coming back to it"...
i couldn't be a novelist either...
for that matter... from what i heard...
i can't be a poo'et either:
first come, first served...
i think of language like i think of food...

well... it was more than "fun" to cycle into central
London and have a coffee overshadowed by
St. Paul's cathedral...
black... plenty of sugar... 50ml of cheap whiskey...
well i know you can't buy whiskey
in a Starbucks...
i bought that along the way...
and i just sat there:
some would say that wearing sunglasses
is a bit like donning the niqab...
although with the niqab:
i purposively stare at those "ninjas"...
some even return a deer-in-the-headlights sort of look
like: well i can't see you poking your tongue out at
me, so... what's the point?

once upon a time in Hackney i was walking
out from my ex's house with her younger brother
& their dog... cookies?! ah!
Nachos! while my "future" in-laws were
having a fight... she was dropping plates
i guess... because i left a newly bought
guitar at their home when i first arrived
on the shores of psychosis: London-Edinburgh:
to-&-fro...
i bought this acoustic splendour...
a Martin & Co. D-X1E...
  i was still paying it off... me & my ex broke up:
well... the story of my life...
all the women in my life broke up with me...
so i'm guessing my supposed "future in-law"
did some "D.I.Y." on her:
that's before i could even give her a name...
&... i'm either a very truthful person...
which is why i only sleep rather than dream...
hence... the great presence of the "YAWN"...
he told me a story & i brushed it off...
he said... guitars tend to break up when
left outdoors... maybe it wasn't him...
maybe she did it...
i was tripping on psychosis...
so... no excuses for me.... plenty of ****** lies
to tell from the opposing party...
i think my heart also ached...
i think: but since i think is therefore i doubt...
probably not...
problem being: i bought the ******* "missing piece"
of a shipwreck on loan...
so... i had to pay off a tampered with
guitar... CUZ... just... BE-CAUSE...
cheap-***... mother-*******... lies!
now i think i'm just gullible...
it has reached a fever-pitch sensation of arrogance
where i think i could get away with ******:
why? all the ****** lies i've been told:
it seems i'm investing in something
grandiose... sinister...
it has to be: a thrill of the antithesis of gravity...
or something...

right there! i saw it! i was walking out with
my ex's younger brother & that HMV mut
when a woman in a niqab
rolling a buggy pulled her niqab off
& what i saw: i saw... a grotesque "feature":
i don't think it was a face...
it was an Arabian nightmare... something:
Cradle of Filth sing about...
maybe i wasn't prepared for such an act...
it was hardly "defiance"...
perhaps she had the honour-acid-in-your-face
squirt... squirt sort of treatment:
easier to hide under a niqab...

there's a currency of delusion that only reigsters
to media outlets...
nothing is really reported:
but everything is curated...
the media is like an art-gallery...
it requires either curators or... editors...
if she unveiled herself like she did
& i saw the face of the cenobite pin-head:
i'd be like... well thank, ****... for that...
now i know what the hammer's for!

well... my supposed future father in-law ended
up with a stint in some psychiatric ward...
so i'm guessing: he ****** around with my:
yet to be paid in full ownership of:
let's call her Layla...
guilt riddled, started calling me Jesus...
any other ******* day of the week i'd be this
Hey-Zeus... but not back then...
i visited him, brought him a bible &:
since he was, is: dyslexic it was hardly the point
of lifting his spirits up with some
Tolstoy...

well you can write the idea of mu phonetically:
it doesn't have to be an idea: #
it can be merely a compound sound: ム...
which is neither vowel or consonant:
it's a consonant-vowel:
it can't be a "vowel-consonant": even though
i know it sounds better...

when translated to my native-toong...
mu... for him...
or: je-mu: again... for him...
jej: her's...
jego: his'             hisses...
  his...
mu: for him...
            i'm bewildered by lack
of a female counterpart equivalent:
plenty of h'americana to be borrowed cunted-up
cluster ***** of "memetics":
come again?
isn't CECI N'EST PAS UNE PIPE
a memetic "typo"?
well... if they told me that Polacks shared the same
grammar as the Fwench:
TO NIE JEST: this is not...
FAJKA... it's Fwench! it's western Slavic...
maybe i'd learn it "better": or at least invested in enough
nouns to better coordinate myself with...
but it's not like i was allowed to learn
English then German...
which would have follow suite...
so now i'm all "bitter" et, und... "sad" still...
boggled down in Loon'don & not Pari(s)...
*******: P'ah-rrrrrrrrrr-E!
or... P'ah-rrrrrrrrr-é... same ****... different cover...

i'm already arriving at: shrapnel avenue...
like the the Mongol sacking of Baghdad...
the skulls "just seem" to be piling onto each other
without end of a horizon of the pyramid in
sight...
it's monstrous... it has all the ingenuity of
a hyped-up Hippocrasic oath:
but... it's seems a terrible prospect to: breed...
unless you're locust prone...

you sit at layout of a cafe that extends to
an outside.... you smile to yourself
seeing a nuclear family walk past...
you smile: to yourself...
thank god i will not the good-father:
supposed: where, while i'll be "good"...
but i'll also be blamed...
thank god i will not be blamed...
esp. if... i were born into a lineage of carpenters...
& suddenly the trade of carpentry went:
bust...
i write this & rightly so...
i hear.. the crying of the girl who lost
my virginity to...
how i suckled at her ******* she came to visit me
in Edinburgh...
i too know: the pertinent Q.: what if?!
perhaps she didn't have the face
of Ava Lauren: but she had the ******* to
proove otherwise...

so i sat in this cafe beside St. Paul's...
once or twice minding the wind...
as you do... some H'american beau ginger having her
"impersonating a dialogue"... ahem...
"conversation" over the phone...
chez la reve - daniel licht...
   almost as good as christopher young's:
something to think abut...

it's what i lullaby myself to sleep with...
well... that & a liter of whiskey...
be-be-because this simply doesn't have an anchor!
suppose it won't sink:
bit i'll die: a ******* captain!

well... one might imagine the... "almost"? really?
the universal claim for "common sense"...
come again?
i thought common sense, in practice or in theory...
is rather...  unilaterally-biased to take
into consideration the buffer cushioning
of "collateral":
again! those who espouse so much of Darwinism's
superiority...
are, the, people... last: to arrive at its mechanisations...
the English were the people safeguarded
by their island status...
sorry? now what... "now"... ahem "what"?
come to think of it...
i don't want to live among any other people beside the English...
call them Welsh ccall then Scots... Anglo-Saxons
call them: gimps with their socks on...
common sense? savvy?
i had a thought cycling through traffic...
i love all the assured interactions with
strangers... after all: it's true what they say...
you look best with your family...
when you get a chance to cut yourself out
from a shared picture: that was taken...

common sense is one thing...
but... nothing ingenious about this proposal...
look away...
what about... the genius of English culture
that could perhaps culminate in...
COMMON COURTESY?!
last time i heard Italian were irresponsible when
utilising the concept of traffic...
in England?!
the cyclist is a buffer zone-in...
can't people entertain COMMON COURTESY
while having their higher alliance
to the allignment of a both: "higher" & "power"?

https://allpoetry.com/poem/16172654-Z-by-Matthew-Conrad-adult#share

Into The Night

Into the night, many slumber into sleep,
A time where dreams and nightmares are defined.
No escaping the relentless grasp of REM,
Diving into mirrored images of perception in mind.

We are the curators of our dreams as well as destiny,
But we must not waste any amount of time tonight.
For as kings rise and legends are made,
Dreams preparing for tomorrow’s sanctioned fight.

Tossing and turning like choices playing out their schemes,
Searching for comfort in a golden age of sleep.
A timeless rebellion from the mundane routines,
As the mind recollects memories piece by piece.

As darkness looms in the mind and over body,
Awaiting the morning rise to fuel the oncoming machine.
The rising sun anchors, and shines light on the darkness,
But for now we dream into the night, a time unforeseen.

such episodes do happen...
  when i write more than i read:
by that i invoke
even the wait... necessary for
the weekend edition of a newspaper
and... all the reviews come in...
of books, of t.v. shows...
imagine: people have employed
people to ingest... digest...
ingest... digest what's on offer...
while lying in bed for an hour
i had to cling to the idea
of having enough time
to listen to an hour of BBC radio 3...
call me a snob or whatever
but this is where the taxpayers'
money is being well spent...
bbc radio 3 is a flagship model
of "arrogance": well... more or less
a perfected taste...
or not that even remotely
being allowed... to pass (with)
my breath let alone off my tongue...
i'd rather employ my tongue
to trill an R or wriggle in between
chewing a decently arrived at cut
of beef - that hasn't been doubly
butchered...
although... if my memory serves me
right... the folk in england
prefer their beef done to a synch...
well-done...
doubly-butchered...
eating among the natives
i'd soon turn to a diet of
   the Jain... or thereabouts
with that plethora of spices
and lentils...
but i would go begging vegetarian
if i were served... well done beef
all the ****** time...
undeserving... rearing a colt bull
for the slaughter and not appreciating
something either bleu...
rare or medium at the rear of
rare...
a bit like contaminating
whiskey with lemonade (when bourbon
just the trick)...
or not... or when gesticulating at
something in Braille...
reading the air: or as one might
have to... tackling the Linear B...
but there are certainly not enough
hours in the day for listening to
bbc radio 3...
for a while i thought that radio 4
had the prime status...
conversation: mmm hmm:
very important...
come to think of it...
i have got used to walking without
needing the cushioning of my fatty
brainz with two pouches of
electric-current seizures... at the snap
of the fingers (etc.)
- that the wind doesn't play flute...
well i neither **** out syllables
of trombone either...
a bizarre interlude of when i actually
read less than i write...
oh i'm pretty sure it shows...
when i write more than i read...
i start to choke on my own subjectivity,
self-importance... "autism" / solipsism...
by the hand that does
imitation ****** in the no. 3 on
the throne of thrones...
sitting in an akimbo pose
at the end of the day
when what has been necessarily *******
out has ******* out
and there's only a prayer
for a tapeworm: no, no champagne
to not be... ******* out as proof
that... dieting revisionism works...
but like my fickle memory:
otherwise exposed to that almost
diabolical Pavlovian stressor testing
within the confines of pedagogy...
(k)nitty-picky what's on offer from
history... ah... the Angevin empire...
the Capetian dynasty... culminating
with Phillip II...
Henry II...
             Otto IV... not sure...
thrown into this cauldron of time...
what's on offer...
we most certainly fill this world
to the brim...
        so much so that there's no reason
or capacity to keep up...
at a time when i write more than
i read...
an exhaustion with a self
and all its abstract *******, comes to mind...
it would be so much easier
to doodle back into reading something
"important"...
but it's not like Delmore Schwarz is alive
and it suddenly dawns upon me...
apart from reading newspapers...
the odd opinion section daily...
waiting for Sunday's news review...
lately... dissatisfying...
and all the book reviews...
  well... perhaps i'm writing more than
necessary because, simply because...
well... if the substance / topic
is oh so very interesting...
the punctuation is without "umami"...
of note: the english language is
without diacritical marks
so there goes the whole idea
of meditating on intra-verbum
punctuation / syllabary...
no... i did my stint with katakana and i'm
not going back...
i need to see holes again...
to x-ray through and onto the canvas
holes in: a, b, A, B, R, O, o, P, p, g,
   d, D... q... Q...
bring me back to seeing letters
for their sounds...
after all these letters look like
they were intended for
lip-reading...
   and most of the time they are...
quirky awry ******* a lemon almost: Q...
qp
       cute: parrot... cue moi... again...

- not that i can say i eer played
the violin...
but after a morning shower...
a day spent curating the garden
so the patio looks presentable
to the "palette" of which there
is no taste to be minded (solely for the eyes)...
an uncombed beard
does feel... less than a **** garden
kept by chance (or miracle)
of its own doing...
scratching my ***** "altar" is more
rewarding...
but, come circa 12am
and the beard is finally combed...
with its full bloom
and volume restored...
well then... the chin and the entire
jaw line can retain its
mythological status of being
hidden under this *****-galore
wonder...
a full hand of this specific rustic
is what keeps me from
having any ***** envy...
although my hands are expansive
enough to be able to hold
a basketball in one...
no wonder i prize a woman's
hands as the most ****** part
of her body...
clearly exaggerated exfoliations
of the hind and **** would
drive any man bonkers...
it's almost cartoonish but at heart
primeval / prehistoric...
what might allow me to gravitate
toward identifying an mammoth
without the word mammoth...
or a squid without the colour of
a mountain drowning in a sea...

qp... i believe that       Ф (ef, fe, phi)
are its closest "abbreviations"
insinuating "marriage"...
but unlike that Siamese coupling
of ancient-doodle-this-doodle-that
of twinning vowels (æ)
qp... did emerge as F...

      i abhor being reminded
that language is volatile...
that it "evolves" that it's an algebraic
x, y, zoot...
            confiscate one of my tongues:
for the love of god...
push me into a structure
of psychology that has only
room for one zunge...
not these bi-schizoi-duo-d(wins)...
apparently each to their own...
- because it's not even that
i'm expecting the natives to scratch
a furthering of exterior possible
with a 2nd tongue...
i'm half-way: meeting...
i'm ****'s sake all the half's need
to be passably involved for
the natives to interact with:
alias - pseudo n.p.c.
graffiti giraffe etc.

qp = ϕ
if æ = a + e...
         yes... let me return to the letters
that represent sounds...
i don't care...
mother goose, alias superior...
what the mandarin hieroglyphs are thrown...
synonym them otherwise
are emoticons, ideograms. etc.
hell... throw in the Linear B...
that whole Mycanaean shabang...
i need to see what can be later heard...
not what can be "insinuated"
what is an otherwise
simple...

my boa my 堡 (ba-o)...
my f-ort...
                    but sure as chicken crazy
******* pigeon glue
that's not a mind-****** of a su-do-ku...
for the reason that i might
love english pragmatism and abhor
the "zeitgeist" / vogue of Darwinism
like it might be a Copernican revolution...

i will not learn to decipher
Chinese hieroglyphs not because i'm
lazy but because i'm of a musical
lot... a#...
                even though i'm almost tone deaf
that's an elephant stepped on
my tongue... base my reason(s)
on an ability to whistle...
i'm too agitated to want to learn
this labyrinth of squat: x-ray...

three alphabets available on the word
go...
but it's nonetheless redeeming
to caress a bush of a beard
with a mythological chin...
all the more since i can't play
the violin...
self-                         -love?
                +
stressing my own self-
                                            -worth?
no one, beside my own toils will
write such... taming...
              beside all the lost ideals of love...
lesbians!
when kissing my teenage girlfriend in
the park when i donned long hair
like a Hindu priest...
etc.
            way before the internet was
established as this gimmick of status quo /
a Sisyphusian task-load of
bogged down in baritone...
cull of toads...
  and... gurgle... and gluttony of gurgling...
and soap bubbles...
and adventure... of skim-reading
encyclopaedic entries...

come to think of it...
reading and rereading an encyclopaedia
and somehow a revision
of a day...
come the same old spring
when in the loosening of air
come the exfoliating magnolias
that steal everything necessarily
not a vanilla mono-
                       glitch of the toast of taste, & buds...

how refreshing it must all
be: tamed, with(in) the confines
of atoms, of letters...
so far removed from the constraints
of syllables...

how "poverty" riddled
the complexity
of :
       ン   ナ    ニ    ヌ    ネ    ノ
             ア     イ    ウ    エ   オ
fudge packaging...
   might i "want" to use )( brackets...
what about an apostrophe?
to hide a surd...
e.g. gnostic = 'nostic...

   i mean... all these idiosyncratic
very latin-esque junctions
of keeping up
aesthetic practices...
    it's hardly ******* Bengali...
and even if it was...
what saved the blues (indians)
was their cuisine...
that rupture that explosion
from a standard of salt, pepper...
rosemary... thyme...
how the red (indians) didn't survive
the surge... how they admired mustangs...
how they didn't spice-up...
their bread was beyond flat...
how collectively: a breeding of man...
had to allow such curators of:
what was readily available...
left to waste... that land of the frontiers...

then came a claustrophobia surrounding
the great basin of hearth...
this spec of near impossible trajectory...
having a lace
of recurrent for a spin:
spring fresh... rekindled emotion:
once more... greater tasks for god
to contest: best nothing...
while there being a blister...
a homage to purpose within limbo...

if nothing was the mind-bending, enough...
that acting was what allowed
shadow-thieving...
from no pulpit
but i find it impossible to curate
what democracy is all hot & bothered about...
i can't find the vein...
of "purpose"...
agglomerate my first come last...
suppose there's this over-arching comfort
of predictability and
this snooze buttocks for skidding
into "purpose"...

       i'm less than agitated
by this core, defining... "purpose"...
since the purpose of journey is well
established...
but that there's also
a "well done" a pat-on-the-back
a sense of accomplishment
when laced with the "claustrophobia"
of death...
an oozing through a membrane
peeking from beneath a curtain...

     sensibly being allowed to focus
on sphinxes... cats... bonsai tigers...
because as much as i love dogs
and have, loved, dogs...
ageing the leash is a non-starter...
i much prefer an intelligence
in the eyes of something petted
than the eyes that will otherwise
merely implore: scrutiny not available...

no wonder the blah-lah muslims
implore a scrutiny of letttering
of dog | god...
in english... i ask...
all?                            aaaah...
        so who's more adhan ready?

for the sake of jumbled orange
and its jelly offspring...
at some point i might have...
most probably... encountered a completion
of rho-****...
that trilling-R-monkey...
****-similis / similis est...
         but not since the replica
coliseums burst open onto the stage
of footsie fancy...

squat... scrutiny... beside the meaning
of words...
first come the sounds....
only later... whether or not
i kept vigil over having
spelled them, proper...

any "deviation" from standarised
punctuation inter-verbum
is my own...
and as my own: i keep it.

how beautiful the world: ought: and was to be:
but now the serpent and apple
is no more
there's only the tongue like a worm
wrapping itself in parasitic form
around a heart of stone:
my heart:
i implore: i do give kindly...

             it's the way this beggar woman approached
me speaking at an angle 10m apart:
which is a far enough gesture to get
my attention:

all i had was the fear...
the one fear i fear most...
listen to the prologue of the Beauty and the Beast
to get to know me: better...
i am prince chamring fearful of the Enchantress...

she asked for shelter... from the storm:
currently the methodology of hieroglyphs,
cunneiform and Ethopian molasses...
what a strange dream i had:

so she asked for shelter:
40 buckles or pounds of Shylock's testimonies
came through
via a messanger attired in flaming eyes
and Ku Klux **** ghostly voodoo:
not the end of Octoberm, yet...

i flew over... all over America: H'america:
and i dropped ***** juice across
Greenland... a whiteness of the whiteest source:
insomniac suns and belly full moons
these ******* satellites!

orbits that make moods and tides
of the seas...
from what i know the Atlantic was
a dangerous crossing:
esp. from Liverpool back to homeland
Ire...

so the Polans were the people who swayed
with feld like the mongol tribes
driving horse blood and playing
arithmetic with Baghdad skulls:
i don't care the sacrelige is already there:
the Israeli barbararism of Lebanon:
only when Liban and Lebon
become invaded by these: scrupules...
then i invite the thought:

and the Vatican stranglehold over England
with the Cathedral of St. Paul's...
there's so much more
but then i don't think you have serious...
interest...
i need to book a month off from the bare
minimum of work...
i want to get hitched to an American
Girl: oh so Tom Petty...

i gave her 20 squid: a quid to squander:
i admit i do hate the English ambition:
Elgar was a terrificly terrible musician
but what a wonderful life:
orchestra in the lunatic asylum...
the life more interesting than the music:
i'll stick to Slayer...
the grandiosity of birth of Bertha...
and the generosity with it:
like...
           dyslexia is on part of the conundrum
before start to plagiarise and utilise AI
to make church bells sing like uvulas
and the reign: curators of the art of silence:

but there is a storm a happening
and Bob Dyland is out for baseball
or whatever the lackey former icon
feels like right now...

                   two check calls: coming:
none: coming...
ridicule my passiveness...
but it was so heart-warming to try to fall asleep:
i ended up with a dream
of eating out a **** of a blonde
with the perfect tash...
she raised horses on a ranch...
in the middle of a Pacific nowhere...
as i was eating out her ****
by ******: of her intimidation:
i noticed...
i was eating a **** of an angel:
lacerated on the chest:
having both wings, formerly...
and a pair of ****...
cancerous growth made this dream-*****
of mine a survivor of breast cancer...
i didn't see a pair of *******
like i might see the eyes
and nose and mouth for *****...
so the dream is distortion...

then i think...
but no: now: i doubt...
if i doubt i therefore must be in double-think
mode...
i listened to the wind
and how superior
came crashing... the concept of caves:
rather than morph the tree:
the comfort of a tiny wooden hut...
heat it up real quick and cool it down...
the wind: agape...
started to sway then talk to the pines
and other trees...

it creaked and smackered a revelation
so clear..
but i'd hate to feel like the idiot
of simply giving a woman £20: buckles...
squid...
   but she said it was her birthday
and she was an intellectual mirage...
and i'll come investing so much
   trajectory Hawaii...
i do...
            i'd rather... i will...
live under a volcano... a graft of gods tectonic...
revealing the tectonic shifts with
the births of volcanos like
the dead stone of mountains: not...

Poland is far away: like a quote
from Neville Chamberlain about the foundation
of Czechoslovakia... capitulating:
like Milan Kundera making his:
mind... right up...
Poland is far away
and somewhere in between
the history of the people of Germany
and the people of Russia...

but i'd rather...
to before God...          than the Eiffel Tower...
i'd rather be in the shadow of a mountain:
who names me her gift: his gift...
i... i must have performed oral ***
on an angel that had
wings but decided to chop off
its Sphinx suckle on them ****...
            
Gryps... the language: vernacular: slang:
of Polish prison inmates:
i'm starting to question... questions...
answers... quakes and accusations...
        
                                      there's a language
to behold: uttermost, absolutely free...
           then there's the language of the Morph...
like spice was
now dust is:
   i feel the need to feed off the dead in
ceremony...
                judgements judgements
such petty hyperbolic suggestions: to qualm:
pacify: gesticulate with sordid
ambition...

                           i am in prison planet mode:
once upon the time the world was so unknown
while everyone was seemingly known...
now that the world is known
and beyond the world the moon and stars...
so much hush-hush psy-pacifism
of the modern scrutiny of the least
modern hybrid: the chimera...

                        feast: fishing in the agony
of the mirror for the fish of ego:
but with such currents of the collective cognition:
no thought belongs to anyone:
god simply ***** thoughts and oughts
out having established the taboos...
clinging to thinking as if it were our own:
our own: there is:
how we managed to sample the cognitive stream...
the Holy Draft, formerly known as: Spiritus:
is this stream of thought:
like the Jungian collective unconscious...
parody: almost...
this living stream of thinking that
God simply deviates from...

         i doubt: therefore i must think twice:
i must think that i think...
and i have to also... alleviate myself
with seeking nothing... god apparent...
we attach ourselves to this freeflow of thinking:
no origins of coincidences and originality
will, ever, arise!

thinking arose from the ****-est-godly-manna...
in man: conjured by the ego:
ooh! that's me! perhaps... maybe...
or just: ha...  ha...                  ha...
next time you give 20qids to a beggar woman
seeking shelter:
just ask yourself...
   am i being made into a fool?
if she's honest... i made a gesture worth salvaging
to prompt memory to overcome itself
and counter with imagination the flow
of thinking like that's the only proof of god's existence:
that we simply think for our own...
what?

last time i heard thinking was squandered on
daydreaming, on logic...
on puzzles...
which shows the proving of shining:
the unstoppable agony of thought
the moral compass
when only the basic were given
and the basics, were: enough!

                        a thought is a unit of moral ought:
not law: i won't be so harsh:
because at the end of the day
there's the schizophrenic confusion
of how the hierarchy works in those sentenced:
like a ******* is the lowest of the low
and will be beyond the innocent man
falsly incarcerated...
or the murderer and the thief...

     thinking is not mine: just...
how that wind spoke to those trees...
and how the earth trebbled: in troubling and trembling...
before the wind was talking to trees
to creak and lasso lisps...
there was talk of the wind with the seas
and how there must be a siege of England!