Dear Next Ingenues, this piece was made for you
From a predecessor who had one wore that shoe
of innocence and trust, and hoping all men were true;
May you navigate the world with much more than a clue.

Drown Not In your tears, or sorrow, or regret,
For all this youth, one day, the pain you'll forget.
Keep my hope for your future somewhere in your pocket.
There will be far better memories to be found in this market.

Desire No Indiscretions to be made on your part.
Remain guarded but never shut off wholly your heart.
It's never like the movies, but we're all pieces of art
unfinished forever, but always welcome to restart.

Determine Neither Idiocy, or martyrdom, or the like.
Make the pushy and needy go on a well-deserved hike.
Better protect your peace than have your heart on a spike.
Stand your ground, loud and clear, if you can into a mic.

Do Not Interact with those of unclear intention,
Turn the other way if they're of a degeneration.
Best redirect all of that wide-eyed attention
to a more worthy, appropriate target selection.

Detest No Impossibility of hope in the future.
No wound can't be patched with a metaphorical suture.
While scars may remain as a mark of the mature,
Nothing is set in stone that you won't pick to be sure.

Dare Not Intimidate and undermine your youth
for such a life is, at minimum, an inconvenient truth.
The world may demand eye for eye, and tooth for tooth,
but what is growth if not lives lived ever unsmooth.

D.T.:
Joseph Maguire.° Who the hell
Does he think he is?
As DNI, to share the truth,
He thinks the task is his.
To work for me--Donald Trump--
Anyone should see
That I expect--above all else--
Loyalty to me.

By now everybody should know
That things must go my way.
If they don't, you know there
Is going to be hell to pay.
When your biggest fans and supporters
Believe that you are royal,
Then anyone who disagrees
With you is being disloyal.

So what if various agencies
Find that there's a connection
Between the Russian government and
Our 2020 election.
When they give their intel briefings,
To them it should be clear
That such information is not
What I want to hear!

(Chorus)
A national security threat?
Sorry, Uncle Sam.
You can say we're under attack,
But I don't give a ****.
Our intelligence agencies
Think they're being precise.
But frankly I would much prefer
To follow Putin's advice.

The less that Congress knows the better
It is for all of us.
Election meddling is a topic
I choose not to discuss.
I will give the position to
My lackey, Richard Grenell.
He will do my bidding, and so
Sorry, Maguire: farewell.

I have friends in Congress who
Defend me to the hilt.
Nunes°° will do whatever I ask
And not feel any guilt.
We can weaponize the intel
Community and manage
That we make sure it's used for my
Political advantage.

(Chorus)
A national security threat?
Sorry, Uncle Sam.
You can say we're under attack,
But I don't give a ****.
Our intelligence agencies
Think they're being precise.
But frankly I would much prefer
To follow Putin's advice.

-by Bob B (2-21-20)

°Director of National Intelligence (DNI)
°°U.S. Representative for California's 22nd District

these 502 bad gateway "cheat" codes... hmm... they're becoming more fun than i ever thought they might have ever been...

title: \jabba\
body: join<
           the>
            bobba<
             franchise<
              or<
            eat>
          squid>!

czy widziałeś kiedyś błysk błyskawicy
bez: grzmotu?

have you ever seen a flash of lightning
without: hearing thunder?

do konća swoich dni, nawet jeszli miał bym
nie spotkać swego rodaka...
w gębie będe miał ten zór...
    tą mowe!

to the end of my days, even if i might not
meet a fellow countryman...
in this gob i will have this tongue,
this speak(ing)!

for what reason would i think that the process
of integration into a foreign culture
a foreign tongue implies that you forget
your inheritance,
no wonder all these Pakistanis immigrants
bred so much resentment into their children...
they were... LAY-ZEE... lazy!
being bilingual would be somehow what?
a ******* disability?!

                              in my case, they tried playing
the schizophrenic card...
but i'm not a child of first generation immigrants...
i'm an immigrant myself, aged 8...
*******!
                       i'll speak your tongue:
but you're not robbing me of my tongue...
as the great emperor Napoleon once said...
yes, and i also admire Robespierre...

the parents bred these monsters
however much you try, you might "think" you're
integrated... but you can't ******* pass off
as European... soppy story for someone else...
an Asian tries to be white...
but at least an African is always outright black...
and he knows it... Asians fool themselves
thinking they're tanned white people...
plus desperate white girls need African walking
******... i'm married to miss amber so
i'm sort of out of the picture...

        - a man who speaks two tongues is worth
two men...
ergo... this lingua franca of tourism that's
English and no longer the Shakespearean sort
of *******... well... now the English
can be reduced to what the Scots are...
accented *******... since they were lazy
in keeping their Gaelic...

only one people on these isles deserve my
respect... the Welsh...
a Wend among the Welsh...
well... wouldn't that be a story to tell someone,
eh?

come to think of it... only one city could
topple Paris with regards to my fascination...
Amsterdam didn't come close...
St. Petersburg... n'ah... Moscow... no chance...
ISTAMBUL...
   if it can't be Paris then it would most
certainly be Istanbul...

         i'm dreaming of the barber shops
and the brothels, or raven haired women...
    not exactly tanned, or copper necked...
somewhat Greek, Anatolian... make-shift brigade
of race... but clearly, ethnically Caucasian:
from the motherland... doing their washing
in the Caspian sea...

funny story... when studying chemistry at
the university of Edinburgh i came across
a Greek... so... what do you call it?
Istanbul or Constantinople?
          ha ha...      it was always going to be
the latter.

.i'd hate to write out a claustrophobia; there was a second who dreamed of Crimea; and who doesn't abhor infatalism; living with parents ensures a lesson in patience... lets regress! the concept of a nation is an infantile game... history stressed is only worth an immigrant's answer... how sadistic the child craves becoming cult.

it would seem that
modern poets never
left an abode
          of the *****
Virgil, free -
  how medium -
paralysed in and to
a strut -
  merely Dante -
                    recompasse -
loitering
             cry enigma
for the peeling
               onion dome
unravelled:
             lacrima dico miror.
moskiev -
  czyn -  łbędzie modno -
o czym: nagi,
             ***'on ******>dni na pal tsym a,
                    rogi snem!
******-da...
        rojter!
              gra o...
   kat w kata prosze -
na sylab a ni słowo -
krew krajna - ukiem cięta!
sfat gila i gnór
ni słowem ni litem A -
szkla rozbitit 'gnem o
   cior...
                   o szkic i
           garb w tonnym
cie... cieniem!
          ku Kjovi,
lwem na Ów..
                     orszak taki -
że nie taii zgób.

_

   well, that was, the draft,
turns out, i can unearth plenty of drafts
i never published,
given the suspension...
such petty narratives are left
for people who almost always
desire a "freedom" to speak,
rather than a freedom to think...

only yesterday, an argument in the garden,
next to a cherry tree i planted...
people your age travel!
they go to places!
they live!
          a constant reminder:
you need to be honest about
your alcoholism...
   sure... i'll be honest,
they other become honest,
   and i don't have to play into
this solipsistic mea culpa *******
as if: i'm not taking responsibility,
as if i am always to blame,
like... my translation of childhood
naivety is not a curse...
because: if i wouldn't trust people,
and make friends,
well, then,
would i just be your atypical psychopath?!
what were the choices:
either wrong, or not good...
wow!
      a grand assumption:
to be governed by laws that only
favor the rich, but slander
the poor...
            victim-who-whom-hood?
did i name, anyone?
am i rat?
       that's what it boiled down to,
that i behaved like a rat,
i said: more like a fox...
no, more like a rat...
   because i like to walk at night,
when i see women
faking conversation
         over their mobile phones...
to feel, secure?
i stalk the predatory mind-set...
    a woman pretends, or doesn't pretend,
to talk over the phone,
while walking home, alone,
at night, as a deterrent...
        i know how this works...
she'll scream into the phone her location...
i'm not interested,
i passed a woman once,
who just, had to, make it,
adamant, i was not to "****" with her...
ever see a running geisha?
i have...
        i mean: a horse needs a whip,
stirrups, reins,
  a woman like that?
who forces you to react,
to give her a reaction against
the canvas of intimidation?
laugh...
       then you'll see a spriting geisha.

and as i write this?
     in the middle of three candles...
my power-saving bulb went out,
i had to resort to igniting three candles
and sit in the middle of the nocturnal
                    Δ(ηλτα)
        or             Δ(ελτα) of "occult" illumination?
i never know which is which...
sure as **** (c)at
                 is nowhere near to (k)aleidoscope
but, hey, it's greek...
         you have eta (η) and epsilon (ε),
you have omega (ω) and omicron (o)
         you have Φought,
                       and you have ΘilosoΦy...
the stories they tell,
  about languages, that do not employ
diacritical markers,
     but insteal have to balance an orthography...
based upon the "quadratic" system,
for the aesthetic to appease "the gods"...
                EE, OO, FF, foe?
unless you spreschen ***-
           -dish, or high hebrew...
          but still... even there...
               א (alef) and ע (ayin)...
          eh, but the hebrews get away with
the fact that they hide their vowels,
in imaginary niqabs...
                akin to diacritical markers...
the hebrews treat their vowels,
like a people, who would apply diacritical
marks to either vowels or consonants:
plainly in the open.
        so some people have gone places,
Egypt, Thailand...
  i've also been to places...
kant's critique of pure reason,
heidegger's being and time...
russell's history of western philosophy...
i've been to place,
   this world cannot offer me,
a source for solace, or for envy,
    i've transcended the globalist
frenzy of people moving aimlessly...
     i went back, to the beginning of the 20th
century, nay, even further...
sure, let people travel,
       i don't mind:
  but as long as they don't come between
me (fox) and the chicken-shack (books),
we'll be just fine...

      mind you, this question opened my
narrative...
   who makes a better ms. amber (whiskey)?
the scottish, or the irish?
i can tell you, even if it's in a ginger ale
mixer...
         jameson and...
    what am i drinking right now?
                 tullamore dew...
   i mean mainstream whiskey...
              these two specimens?
  competing with, what?
          whyte & mackay... as i'm pretty sure
they can...
   but... bell's? the famous grouse?
the whiskeys that are like laphroaig
and smoked salmon?
         the irish are definitely better
at their brewing than the McDoogles...
ol' paddy McGuire figured it out,
amber, looks like diluted honey...
so it must appeal to the sweet-tooth palette!
well... if beer is the gods' ****...
then whiskey... is the gods' blood...
    have i ****** my life away?
sure... i have...
                  but i've also acquired
a capacity to see more in my mind,
than others have seen with their eyes...

as it happens,
   i sometimes return to my native womb
of zunge...
faster than it would take me,
to retreat physically,
   a drive to Stanstead airport,
loitering,
   a 2 and a half hour flight,
moving around Warsaw,
   before taking a 3+h coach trip
   to an obscure location
     and spending a month or so,
loitering with my grandparents,
in between reading a ****** classic,
akin to Prus, or Sienkiewicz.

Are you there?
I hear you calling me,
I can’t seem to find you
Am I lost?

But I feel you near
I hear your Heartbeat,
I feel your beauty
Why can’t I see your face?

I know that love
It’s overpowering,
I feel lost
Without your touch

You left me
You went back to heaven,
I miss you so much

Will I survive?
That quake
That soul love

We were one
Now we’re apart,
Days are dark
Without your light

You were my star to guide
But now I’m lost,
I send a prayer to God
To feel your loving essence

Then I feel warmth
in my heart,
Feelings of words form
A voice of love speaks

You’re still with me
by my side
For our hearts beat as one
forever

DNI©

/not looking for plagiarism, but cf. dni ktorych nie znamy and tamta dziewczyna... the near, sung poetry.

did sylwia grzeszczak
ever not listen to
marek grechuta?
                   don't think so;
IRONY!

Trump's picks for his Cabinet
Are in-your-face kinds of picks.
It's obvious from what he's doing
That he is up to his old tricks.

He doesn't want the FBI
To be involved in the nominees' vetting,
Which Democrats and conscientious
Republicans find very upsetting.

For Secretary of Defense,
Pete Hegseth, a veteran who
Displays as part of his body art
A white supremacist tattoo?

Tulsi Gabbard as DNI°
Who couldn't pass a background check
Because she's compromised by Russia?
Trump's feelings: What the heck?

Matt Gaetz as Attorney General--
A grifter and a trouble-maker
Accused of ***-trafficking?
For Trump that's NOT a deal breaker.

Hegseth, Gabbard, and Gaetz are all
Deeply unfit for such positions.
A competent president wouldn't
Select them under any conditions.

It’s almost as if in making his choices
Trump is trying to deride
All of us by asking himself,
"Who is the most unqualified?"

Will Republicans cave in
To pressure from Trump or show some spine
And tell him no when he attempts
To sidestep rules and cross the line?

-by Bob B (11-16-24)

°Director of National Intelligence