.oh ****! now i remember, now i remember that other school of English thought... pragmatism! everything is so rational these days, no wonder that so many mental illness diagnoses exist... apparently every deviance of, "success" is, "magically" worthy of psychiatric scrutiny... but then you get psychopaths in the upper eschallance of society... and they're immune to psychiatric scrutiny... so much for pragmatism... whatever that means these days... what?! e-scha-llan-ce... usher-lance?! oh right, ****, i was going for an adjective... echelon... my adjective? feeling up to the level / rank within an organization, and subsequently, perfecting stated rank with robust, pompousness and erudition, matching up to a pedantic exercise within the confines of either, grammar, or, diction; my bad. see... i don't get it... i could somehow couple up the ancient Greek concept of the Stoic school, and the Epicurean school (of thought)... it became crystal clear... but... but when it comes to the English school of thought? i can't make the logical-leap of a worded multiplication concerning the schools of: egalitarianism, and... pragmatism... maybe i'm just *******... but i... i sometimes can't come at a worded equals sign, or at least: a mutually inclusive / mutually exclusive sharing processor of looking at both attempts to revise 1 + 1 = 2... then again, i'm not bothered... English liberalism doesn't bother me... the English were never libertarian in letting go... who are the English? they have their equivalence among the Prussians... but, yes... i was looking for this noun, this last remaining school of thought from the Anglophone world... i was thinking... what goes well with the cognitive spaghetti that exfoliates egalitarianism? ****... what else? pragmatism! so help me god, i can't concede making this dualism of ideas, perhaps contradictory, perhaps not, as i did with classical thinking... stoicism and Epicurean school i can justify... but the English, somehow complimenting within the realm of pragmatism, and egalitarianism?! good luck, i can't do it.

currently i only identify two schools
of thought in English...
i might change my opinion
in the future...

how, just how petrified people
are of exploring dialectics,
the fear stemming out
from... having opinions that
do not deserve questioning,
such blatant solipsism...

but i do identify two schools
of thought from the English
speaking world...
o.k. three... ****...
four...

egalitarianism...
egalitarian idealism...
unitarism...
utopian-ism...        

****... four, five...
how many in total?

scholasticism, in general...

  there's one more...
i'm sure there's one more...
it's related to egalitarianism...

what's the word i'm looking
for?
a morphed liberalism
of: one freedom can eventually
over-compensate
another statement of freedom
and deride the former liberty
with a... ore ******-up
liberty...

but there was another mode of thinking,
i'm sure of it...

you know that people
are afraid of experiencing dialectics,
when they have to phrase
their opinions:
but these are my personal
opinions...
   yep... stated in a public sphere...
why is it that i don't
make videos?
      your freedom of speech
is one thing...
mine? constricted to the comment
section...
   this? an extension of thought,
since i'm bashing a blank piece
of "paper"...

what was the other root of the English
school of thought?!
no... it wasn't universalism...
England, given the stated terms...
is a covert communist state...
a subdued communist state...
a dubiousness from the empirically
tested experiment...
where did Marx and Engels
concentrate their observational
capacities if not in England?
weird...

  communism originated in England
under, said, sociological observations,
was tested in Mongolia...
and then returned via Russia to
Eastern Europe...

*****... gets to my head...
it might come to be two days later,
but i'm sure i wanted
to work with another school of thought
from the English demand
for the egalitarian take on things...

looking at the English,
i see a people burdened by a desire
to make "things"... fair...
          i see people teasing Utopia...
a people who haven't experienced
a momentary transition period
of a quasi-Utopia of communism....
within the countries that
received the Bolshevik mantra
and not the Marshall Plan payout...
even Sweden (neutral, source of inspiration
for the Nazis) and Switzerland
received Marshall Plan funds...

       but the English...
              what an oddity...
oh i don't imply a demeaning
interpretation...
       but the English are teasing
a revival of socialism...
you know how many archetypical
human emotions socialism curbs?
you can't do it unless
subjected to foreign rule...
given the current Brexit agreements:
now's your chance...

but socialism really did originate
in this fine, fine land...
Marx didn't look alongside
Engels outside of England...
they looked at Liverpool...
and children being employed...
German children had Krampus...
English children had
work in the factories...

this probably is an over-simplification
of history, but all the details
are there...
personally?
i find English existentialism
(if there is such a "thing")
over-powered by Darwinism's
over-simplifications...
Darwinism, having killed modern
or pre-modern history,
having to expand beyond
our known, and kept history...

a big bang theory i can deal
with...
i can congest it into a subscript
of words, via a conceptualization
of atoms...
and bigger atoms,
suns... protons, neutrons,
planets...
and electrons...
lost in the realm of sub-atomic
particles and antimatter...

but when i go back to Poland?
you know what i don't hear much of?
overly simplified existential
explanations pivoting on
nothing, but Darwinism...
in England it's all Darwinism,
and not much more...
i guess when Einstein disproved
Newton,
the only thing motivating
English culture boiled down
to focusing and pivoting on Darwin...

outside of England?
you know how important Darwin
is?
          in Poland... Mickiewicz...
a poet...
                         Copernicus...
            a astronomer...
            and in Russia?
Dostoyevsky...
          Tolstoy...
                     Mendeleev,
Tchaikovsky,
Rasputin,
                      Prokofiev­,
Bulgakov...
        Kandinsky...
               Anna Andreyevna...
Chekov...
                      how much is
Michael Faraday worth these
days in England,
if you're going to celebrate
only the scientists
and shove every artist
into the shadow of Shakespeare?!

i really shouldn't drink
*****...
                       i go crazy crude,
mad and... it's *****!
       you can't mellow out like
you could mellow out with
ms. amber, of the Scottish highlands!

why did i ever go out on a friday night?
drinks with "friends" and hitting the essex
club "scene" -
well - no much of a scene -
there was never the music you'd want to listen
to: come friday or saturday -
even mid-week when all the rock kids
were "hanging out" -
what would be chances of being your own d.j. -
catching something really new...
POIZON - church is poizon -
cool mom - something between a crossbreed
of cage the elephants and nirvana on blew -
3rd view - moi -
but i used to: and i remember that gehenna of
a sobering walk - alone after a night out -
like some furious son of sam -
when youth still had the adrenaline with it
and a sense of anger ******* around with
disillusionment -

those were the friday nights: bon jovi highlights
and long hair and milking a somewhat androgynous
look - sometimes the mascara would come out...
those were the days of having milk skin
and a proper shave -
the long hair and the waistcoast and cravat: semi-,

the lonesome story before i met my beard:
fwyday mordaithceirch -
i actually have a name for it...
i forgot what's already the designated
whittle pecker mr. pritchard of the down down:
below...

oh, oh so what...
rough friday nights in my youth -
on the clubbing "scene" -
and always that moral hangover when it came
to drinking with others -
ever since i started drinking by myself:
i forgot the mirror and that bucket
of warm water beside my bed to put my hand
in before going to sleep...
once or twice the company was worth the drink -
but most of the time you only kept
such company: because you were drinking -
drinking was never an afterthought -

now... i like drinking alone -
at least i can keep fact-checking the company
and the odd vocab peacock taking to the catwalk
of a ruminating free-fall tongue waggle
and rummage - the needle in the haystack
adventure - or... the ******* bucket
of deshelled oysters...

there have been some awful friday nights -
but: seeing how i started to give my beard
a welsh name borrowed from a willem dafoe
novel - and how it simply became pointless
to wake the dead with the angry tantrums
of youth: and how i seem to have
forgotten where my 20s "went" -
somehow rooted in: da-sein and how
i "wasted" 2 years on one book by kant -
2 years on one book by heidegger -
and: how i didn't have the time to "catch-up"
on the greek classics -

oh these island dwelling people -
i try to imagine them not being a seafaring:
and their messiah / superiority complex -
with their breakfast that could hardly
be digested come the hour of noon -
or no messiah / superiority complex -
the traffic: indeed - works like clockword...
from left to right...
sidenote: what of fahrenheit and
the feet and inches - stones and pounds?
ounces?
the metric of: baseline 0 here,
baseline 00 over there...

no... Michele Campanella piano solo take
on wagner's das rheingelt: entry of the gods into
valhalla - it's hardly anemic -
it's... the last leaf of autumn falling -
because the crescendo has already happened...
a befitting closure...

the superior island folk and their...
hyphens and germanic loan words -
how almost all names in chemistry are still
in their germanic: intact form of: no hyphen:
broken leg or broken arm...

woodwinds... perhaps... the violins providing
the humming of birds:
chirp chirp: no chirping -
and of course the horn - but the horns never
as prominent as those drank from...

something has happened today -
but i am... left without having any english
sensibility / egalitarianism -
somehow i always equate egalitarianism with
the english - the islanders -
a firework went off in the background -
mr. sloth awoke mrs. slouch after 3 years
for a firecracker celebration...

because who would want to be ruled
over by unelected: chocolatiers...
esp. after their trial run in the Congo -
but i have certainly had worse friday nights...

it can't exactly get much worse than...
say... listening to the siegfried idyll...
multitasking: drinking a cider, smoking a cigarette,
balancing act of folded leg sat on
perched on a windowsill solving a no. 11,289
sudoku from the 27th jan. 2020...
otherwise prior to:
imagine my disbelief at the pleasure -

with numbers to somehow escape thinking in words:
no grand arithmetic linear gymnastics -
of the end result -
certainly no logical statements -
just a whirlwind of numbers complimenting
these few words...
and what a fine friday night it has become:

the pizza was made - god save me from the perfume
of yeast... or checking on the rising dough
from time to time -
the leftover yeast gave me the opportunity
to bake an imitation sourdough crust pretty-as-a-picture
loaf that: would make any mushroom blush
and shy away from unfolding into an umbrella pose...
or a Y... curling outward-inward into an upsilon Υ...

because how could i forget the pleasure of
sifting through numbers?
by the time i attempted puzzle no. 11,290
i had to write a "map"

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
2)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x

come to think of it... where's a subscript?
if i'm going to use 1, 2, 3...
to tier the allocation of squares...
tennis and sudoku...
tennis: a game of 7 rectangles -
and how many judges and ball boys / girls?
sudoku - a puzzle of 10 squares - perhaps...
if i'll use tiers 1, 2, 3: a1, b2, c3...
what if... sudoku invoked letters rather than
numbers?

much later... oh believe me...
this is the antithesis of knausgård
writing about using googlemaps...
        
           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

it's still a schematic - the narrative is yet
to begin... otherwise...
there's nothing smart about this...
i have tired eyes sometimes:
i succumb and have to allow myself
to no acid-bath these eyes in words...

esp. since i speak so rarely -
imagine... in england and i spear
the bare minimum of english -
i can: i have to: i will - when being prompted -
but i can't remember the last time
i had an honest: informal exchange
of letters... lapped up by the glutton
tongue... i looked and looked
and with my silence i can attest:
there's a speech-impediment -
a stutter that's not born from nervousness...
but... an allusion to a "stoic" through
my lack of conversation...

at least on paper i can exfoliate -
enough cider and enoug whiskey and i'm all
sparrow McDermott!
ugh... the devolved scots and the likewise
welsh... devolved nations...
only this aspect of Brexit is... well...
imagine the "evolved" status of post-Yugoslavia...
Kosovo...
this is the only aspect of an otherwise:
fair enough that's... well...
if you lived for 3 years among the scots...
you'd get to appreciate them...
this is the only aspect of this whole affair
i will ever appreciate...
i would pour blood and **** into
the Welsh continuing their...
preservation of the iaith...
forever and the more - i would love to see
scotland start to dig trenches and
forget trainspotting gaelic -
parading like ponces and humpty dumpteys
with "harkccents"... glasgewian bull-runnings...
cousins aye and wee -

a thing of beauty: a thing of union...
but this... they were bullied in brussels...
they came back and started to bully the scots...
if you have lived -
the betas of cardiff - but they tongue: remains!
look far back and wales would encompass
cornwall -
ignorant i of a 26 year "servitude" on these isles...
quiz me on outside of London:
no point...
perhaps i too would wish for the lost
theta in Dublin - towing: to t'ink...
as any sanskrit H-surd does matter...

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

but if i will replace... the side tiers of numbers...
the numbers in the puzzle will have to become
letters - greek... probably iota, epsilon and upper-case
gamma...

the bullied have returned from the palance
of the chocalatiers and: back to their old ways
of bullying the rest of these island folk...
because: it's infantile for me imagine
a resurrection of the crown (poland)
and the grand duchy of lithuania -
the commonwealth -
but somehow the united kingdom is not
fated to become the next yugoslavia -

i can confirm - up in edinburgh i was
confirmed by having the hat of Knox having
scalped me -
never is always metaphor: vaguely -
as in literally - in these quasi-paragraphs...
so it's not... infantile to even "think" that
the british empire can be revived?
zee window-licker spezials of
cross-breed h'americana postcards sent?
i nibble to attempt a joke...

oh i can bulldozer this whole narrative...
turn into a berserker -
i've saved enough money to deal
with the label loser...
all it will take is me having drunk enough -
sightseeing the slums of london's east end
and then hitting the brothel:
like an iron-head... to the pillow
and the ***** of a *******...

because i have had worse friday nights...
terrible company...
if i were not a michel de montaigne or a knausgård:
me me me, me me, me me me me,
write enough of that and:
to meme to grafitti... or to...
why are there no diacritical markers in
the english language worthy of recognition?
why would i...
rhoi fy **** y Cymraeg enw?
give my beard a welsh name?
and why is that not a cedilla C but a ******* K?
why not... Çumraeg?

on foreign shores i have made it adamant that...
this sense of foreigness does not
peppermint my presence with hopes to:
add to - an integration -
just borrow what the local have made: left-overs...
and work with that...

(insert snigger) - the neu-vikings of
northumberland...

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

this really does have a linear narrative...
here goes...
3(c1), 9(c3), 1(c1), 2(c3), 2(c1), 2(a1), 9(a3), 8(c3),
4(c3), 8(c2), 8(a2), 5(b2), 7(c2), 3(b2), 3(b3), 8(b3),
7(c1), 5(c1), 7(b3), 5(c3), 1(c3), 6(c3), 1(c2), 3(c2),
9(c2), 9(b2), 6(b1), 6(b2), 6(b3), 2(b3), 2(b2), 1(b2),
1(b1), 9(b1), 9(a1), 8(b1), 8(a1), 5(b1), 7(b1), 7(a1)...

and then a "gamble" in the narrative...
the (7a2 and the 5a2 - interchange)....
it's a pleasure - not a chore -
5  9  4
2  8  7
3  6  1
8  1  9
6  4  3
7  5  2 - this line... what if it was 5  7  2?
1  2  5
4  7  6
9  3  8
if i want to solve this puzzle - i will solve it
and not read a tabloid article /
whatever the hell has become of youtube...
my diamond jukebox...

otherwise the "narrative" continued from
7a2 and the 5a2 interchange:
7(3a), 4(a3), 4(a2), 6(a1), 4(a1), 5(a1), 5(a3),
1(a3), 1(a1), 3(a1), 3(a2), 6(a2)... end result?

           a             b             c
      5   9   4   6   8   1   2   3   7  
1)   2   8   7   3   5   9   6   1   4
      3   6   1   2   7   4   5   8   9
      8   1   9   5   4   3   7   6   2
2)   6   4   3   7   1   2   9   5   8
      7   5   2   9   6   8   3   4   1
      1   2   5   8   3   7   4   9   6
3)   4   7   6   1   9   5   8   2   3
      9   3   8   4   2   6   1   7   5

because i can imagine this not being:
the most difficult Finnish sudoku...
i can almost imagine this puzzle
to be in greek...
where: 1ι, 2ζ, 3ε, 4χ, 5Σ, 6δ, 7Γ, 8β, 9ρ...

in the background all i hear is:
corvus corax' la i mbealtaine...
the greek version of the japanese puzzle...

           a             b             c
      Σ   9   χ   6   8   ι   ζ   ε   7  
1)   ζ   8   7   ε   Σ   9   6   ι   χ
      ε   6   ι   ζ   7   χ   Σ   8   9
      8   ι   9   Σ   χ   ε   7   6   ζ
2)   6   χ   ε   7   ι   ζ   9   Σ   8
      7   Σ   ζ   9   6   8   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   8   ε   7   χ   9   6
3)   χ   7   6   ι   9   Σ   8   ζ   ε
      9   ε   8   χ   ζ   6   ι   7   Σ

half-way... i just wanted to "selfie" what
will become of this... i no longer write: i paint...

            a             b             c
      Σ   9   χ   δ   8   ι   ζ   ε   Γ  
1)   ζ   8   Γ   ε   Σ   9   δ   ι   χ
      ε   δ   ι   ζ   Γ   χ   Σ   8   9
      8   ι   9   Σ   χ   ε   Γ   δ   ζ
2)   δ   χ   ε   Γ   ι   ζ   9   Σ   8
      Γ   Σ   ζ   9   δ   8   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   8   ε   Γ   χ   9   δ
3)   χ   Γ   δ   ι   9   Σ   8   ζ   ε
      9   ε   8   χ   ζ   δ   ι   Γ   Σ

going... going... gone...

            a             b             c
      Σ   ρ   χ   δ   β   ι   ζ   ε   Γ  
1)   ζ   β   Γ   ε   Σ   ρ   δ   ι   χ
      ε   δ   ι   ζ   Γ   χ   Σ   β   ρ
      β   ι   ρ   Σ   χ   ε   Γ   δ   ζ
2)   δ   χ   ε   Γ   ι   ζ   ρ   Σ   β
      Γ   Σ   ζ   ρ   δ   β   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   β   ε   Γ   χ   ρ   δ
3)   χ   Γ   δ   ι   ρ   Σ   β   ζ   ε
      ρ   ε   β   χ   ζ   δ   ι   Γ   Σ

i don't mind a people being right...
but the overt-gloating...
without having to work around the sort
of paranoia associated with:
how the russians are not allowed to glutton
themselves on gloating -
because they are always made
to feel suspcious - the russians can't gloat
like most of the anglo- speaking world...
always suspect: russophobia evil genuises...
tip-toeing goliaths - less the blundering
fudge-packers of "global ****"...
and i kissed a boy and i liked it...
my genitals started shrinking
and my *** started to exfoliate with:
welcome all! welcome all hard and on!
and that tongue in my mouth always helps...
but imagine my surprise when
i started to navigate my hands
but the reply came:
timbuktu and mt. kilimanjaro will not be found
attached to this sort of torso...
wrong dog, wrong tree...

some things really do require numbers...
i once had a mathematics teacher in high school
bemoan the origin of modern numbers
and how we once: upon a time used these letters...
but did our arithmetic with visual aids
akin to the abacus... because...
you'd have to "read braille" when counting...
to differentiate the already: lettered numbers
and the letters being letters -
and all arithmetic functions
were "spoken of" but never depicted...
i.e. there was no VII + III = X...
there was no XV - XI = IV...
eh?! arithmetic was cat-intuitive...
not spoken of - done by either the visual
aid of fingers when haggling
in a market place -
or by the abacus aid in a bureucratic office!

i said this was the most perfect friday night...
what did i have to offer?
no clickbait title - some gems of wording
in between?
the patient reader - as ever - most rewarded -

but... oh my god... the sensation of
changing the bed sheets...
it's friday night and you're... changing your bed sheets...
and they are more crisp and clean
than any political event that the journalist leeches
are milking -
and you do it with a saving private ryan precision -
you will sleep in this bed: well into
11am of a today to come...
believe me: that you will...

- in that i am still walking among the germanic people -
if the germans will sing a: bretonisher marsch...
then the two peoples are alligned by
their sentiment for the crow as their godhead:
alles menschen totem...
what could possibly make me feel welcome?
french grammar is polish grammar...
matin de printemps - poranek wiosny -
spring morning in reverse in germanic...
how many more examples would i ever wish
to give?

there was a moment in my life where...
i realised my faults... i should have read
the Pickwick Papers... anything by C. Dickens to be sure...
instead came Stendhal, Voltaire, Balzac...
because if you said to me...
BBC radio 4... the archers...
and... thomas hardy: madding crowd?
you'd accuse me of being ignorant of:
London is a bustling cosmopolitan in-waiting
from the busy-body industrial proto-Beijing
it was of 100 years ago?    
the French had cosmopolitan intellectualism
100 years prior to the english...
100 years later and it's still not much...
is anyone about to cite me william hazlitt?!

the trouble with the english is that they hold dear
to that one old 19th century idea -
this waiting for: awaiting a revival of darwinism...
the "blatantly" obvious needs a resurgence!
because a michael faraday must most surely
be forgotten!
how many times will this already painful reality
need to be emphasised once more:
intellectually - via a darwinism?
no one stresses the copernican "upside-down"...
or what is copernican "west" up in space?
how does acknowledging the sphere
of the earth - ease you reading a flat map -
moving from point A to point B?

earlier this week - for once in my life i was
ashamed of what i wrote -
so i wrote for scribli per se: scribbles for
scribbles themselves -
the darwinian germanic folk who say:
alles von afrika...
how the hebrews debased themselves
in both aushwitz and breaking their bones
on the emoji hieroglyphs -
alles von afrika: ja... so sicher... so wahr!

ask any slavic person among the germanic
peoples...
where from? wir (ar) sind lesen und schreiben
"afrika": i.e. Indu...
if the african challenged the hebrews
with... "the best they had": egyptian emojis...
why would i not stress my birth
with pseudo cedilla Ş / इ... ☦ -
this indo-european is not... at home with
these african-germanoids...
pseudos and quasi -
these chocolate frenzied busy-buddies!

from the caucasian and further still from
that whittle sub-corinthian quote: continent...
somehow, "somehow" this part of this story
is read: south to north... always a grand
marker missing when the people went
east, squinted... learned skeleton existence,
atoms... and the frenzy of letters:
owls and ******* **** flinging beetles
back in the north eastern tip of
africa: in that egyptian haemorrhage of "idea"...

i assure myself... perhaps the form came from
africa... but sure as **** the tongue only arrived
in the lap of the Dalai Lama...
as did the "thinking" and the music
across prior to the Mongol's curiosity
over the tundra of Siberia...
something had to be placed on a loan...
and coming back to the cradle and the crux
had to happen like so...
not this current: ergo: so...
quickened and: what news from Damascus?!

first impressions count...
i made my bed... it's newly washed...
as crisp as falling onto a bed a prawn crackers...
without the crumbs' itch...
like listening to some german:
juggernaut... this will do... i can fall asleep
with this: grab hören zu der winderhall...
mehr flöte - weniger violinekratzen!
schlechtdeutsche? alle deutsche ist gut deutsche...
erwarten etwas isländisch zu sein
gesprochen insel von insel: auf diese inseln?!

to make a crisp bed of freshly washed sheets...
to sleep in them alone...
given the grammar is not that far removed...
are the french even remotely translated
as a germanic "sort of" people?
"they" or "we" share the same grammar...
and there are celtic freedoms that would
never be allowed to exfoliate under
strict anglo-ßaß obligations...

oh sure! great people! steam engine: choo-choo!
newton et al...
shakespeare: when they taught us shakespeare
they should have taught us bernard shaw...
when they forced jane eyre down our throats
we should have been reading
the pickwick papers...
the music will remain german -
because as much as vaughan williams...
holst and händel were "were" english...
esp. latter with his umlaut that spread over
toward i-and-j...

why wouldn't you **** at the pillar of the empire:
a past most assured - dust, books and moths...
like hell will i come to correct my ways
to state the: pish-poor Elgar... this poo'em too...
himmel... sky...
leerenhimmel - empty sky -
nein sonne während der tag:
das englischnebel: bedeckthimmel...
nein mond während der nacht...
nur so...

i of the lesser men of this world duly bow
my presence before the altar of the higher men
of these isles...
and hope and pray that their wisdom
will not bestow upon them any major calamity...
with not irony or ridicule i wish upon
these peoples... the right sort of oars
to turn this rooted island
into the people's imagined langboot...

there are only one british people a people
who will pursue to gloat having been
conquered by the romans...
being raided by the vikings...
integrating the anglo-ßaß...
a second viking coming via the Normans...
the push-over remains of the celts...
that somehow translated itself into
the: empire...
ideal: to compensate...
the islamic fervor for the... resurrected
caliphate...
jokes about the dritte ***** and the vierte *****...
that's pretty much the precursor jokes
surrounding: ein zweite ***** -
auf welche die sonne nimmer setzt -
ever wonder how that translates with the increased
cases of insomnia?!

again: bad german is better than
no german.

Let there be light
Let there be humans
Give them a garden
Let them be companions
It was all so simple
A world just for two
Nature would provide
Now what should they do?
The seasons are learned
Along with day and night
There is dangers in the wild
But what about wrong and right?
The beauty of one another
Brought their bodies together
One day something happened
It was no longer just each other

There was a baby to feed
And other families emerged
They were drawn together
As their problems converged
Food, shelter, water, safety
These things required action
Someone had to do something
Reality caused a reaction
But who would do what?
Who could hunt or lift a stone?
Could they become a village?
Or is it to each his own?
Who would decide?
Who would object?
Were they in agreement?
Or would they always reject?

One selfish man
And a plan will fail
One greedy man
And the garden is for sale
Would a man live for need
And not for his wants?
Would a man cure the infirm
And be paid only with thanks?
Would a man read a book
And study until he sleeps?
Would he use his knowledge
And reject the reward he reaps?
Is this the way to achieve greatness
With no discernment among men?
Everyone the same
No matter how driven?

The ocean beckons
As do the mountains
The lakes and the streams
Are natures fountains
Will they be cared for
If we live wild and free?
Will a man be happy
Not plundering all he can see?

And so the rock must be lifted
And we look around the cave
One man’s back is broken
And another says, “I’m no slave”
So the rock remains
As do we in the cave
Who will get food tonight?
“It’s not my turn” he said with a wave

How much is too much
For you to have all you need?
How much is too much
Before you notice the greed?
Think of it this way
You ask a man to play a flute
He can make you smile
But will praise be his fruit?

A good man will share what he has
And he will accept what he receives
But how many good men do you know?
And how many are thieves?
Would you rather wear a fur
Or harness the heat?
Would you rather live outdoors
Or have a home on a street?
And who will do this for you
Without their just reward?
Can you live like an animal
Or accept greeds mighty sword?

And so do you want my wool
In trade for your milk?
But the home he built for you
Requires that he receive silk
But milk is all you have
So you must live outdoors
How do we accommodate
When I can't use yours?

It's a matter of trust
I say what I render
Equals what you accept
And paper became legal tender
And if you agree
Though paper is not milk
Then I will build your house
Because now I can buy my silk
And in this way
Our wants become cultivated
And the lazy man
Is suddenly motivated

As the thinking man observes
The power of the capitalist tool
And the rivers of paper
That once was milk and wool
He wonders how it came to pass
That a world of cows and sheep
Became one of oil and gas
It happened while some did sleep
In the fury of comfort and reward
And technological devices
Are we better off
Or have we invented new vices?

I am happy for my children’s comfort
But at what cost to another?
Is it a zero sum game
With a winner and a loser?
Will the next big thing
Happen without their just reward
Or should we just pray to God
And put down our paper sword?
Is there a consensus among men
That can ever be reached?
Or will we always fail
And will egalitarianism be breached?

I wonder of these things
As we print more and more
The paper is all that matters
We want ours and all else we ignore
Is there a limit
On the value of milk and wool
Will we continue as we are
Who will win, the bear or the bull?

.like i insinuated prior, the English are a people not competent in philosophy, they're the antithesis of what a people, inclined to philosophy represent... schematic, rigidity, like the German... or the frequent cafe bullshitters of the French, the English can't consecrate themselves on the altar of Sophia, they just can't... they're a people that succumbed to too much practicality, egalitarianism... no one attempts to write in Utopia, while not seeking to find Atlantis.

so the whole Greece, Troy,
Rome shuffle is about over?
i'm feeling slightly peckish
and i don't have the time...
i'm about to light the house
up using... light-bulbs...
don't you think that a name
akin to: Paul, Digit,
sounds great?!

don't get me wrong,
the English are a people bound
to other, gifts...
they can sing,
although... Aud Lang Syne
is a Pict song...
and the river-dance is pure Ire...

great sophists,
but philosophers?
they're too practical,
i'm trying to read
Sartre's being & nothingness
in English...
i simply, can't...
      it doesn't make sense...
if you gave me a copy
of the same book
in ******-speak...
i'd butcher it...
   but in English?

metaphor moment:
like catching the testicles of
a mosquito, wearing boxing
gloves...

fiddly ******...

sure... each country has its
career ambition...
russian and the romanians
and the bulgarians have
their gymnastics...
the brazilians and the germans
have their footie...

the English have their singing
and their poetry...
but philosophy?
      nope... not even close...
Oasis' wonderwall
will be remembered,
and even sang along to on
the continent...

                   but thomas more's
utopia,
or thomas hobbe's leviathan...
ever tried to read more than
twenty pages
    of joseph conrad's
         heart of darkness... ?
ever find eating porridge
equivalent to parachuting
   in terms of the level of excitement?

chill... the English have their virtues...
but the English are also
prone to call philosophy
impractical, verbiage, word salad...
because philosophy already
is an impracticality,
an impasse...
          it's supposed to be,
           it's not exactly an Ikea schematic
reading to assemble a *******
table...
             it's Picasso, cubism,
       see if you can see a cube in
the mesh of contortions of other geometric
signatures...

              the English do not do philosophy...
sorry... they don't...
whatever argument arises citing
the "need" for: "reason" and, "logic"
will not cut it for me...
reason? since God doesn't intervene...
well... the unfathomable depth of
human will... reason: the same freedom
as posited prior to: the unfathomable depth...

logic? 1 + 1 = 2...
      a + n + d | s + o = and so...
the English are barons over other traditions
of expression...
music being 1, poetry being 2...

hey, Polacks are decent at volleyball...
i'm not complaining,
it's not exactly a popular sport...

but no... no chance in hell will i read
a philosophy book in this language...
i can't, the language is already too shrapnel
for me... i need to clarify a focus
on an idea...
        language, the English language,
can't entertain the current "transcendental"
logistics of undermining the individual /
plural use of pronouns,
while also keeping a straight face
in other areas of thinking...

     i could have conceded to the whole
globalist liberalism of ideas...
but... looking at the other flank?
attacking grammar... ****... sorry...
dogma?!
                as if... i will bow down
to un-existing before my wedding with death.

that being said,
i think the English are in a dire need to relearn
their black sense of humor,
their islander sense of isolationist humor,
their: bizarre unpredictability...
  since they lost it...
             to a certain degree...
i'd say: relearn to laugh at what is,
otherwise unforgiven in other cultures...
more crass Americanism...
and... well...
                can you ever learn to
cry when experiencing beauty?
musically, that is, esp. in the musical
dimension...
                    i always hated this:
"you're laughing, but actually crying...
you're crying, but actually laughing"
inversion...
        i never came around to fathom this
"misnomer"...
          straight down...
    i'll laugh at a funeral...
            teasing death...
   but i'll cry over a decent piece of music, to boot.

these western leftist,
make us former commies...
look... really really
******* bad...

        my grandfather,
who was abandoned by his
father, spewed by the lies
of his father's brother,
found some stability
in the communist party...

sometimes did jury duty...
the communist party
gave him a house... etc. etc.,
but this, "thing" in the west?
the dissonance conundrum
of creating a collective hive?

it doesn't, and it will never work...
i already said this,
but i'll say it again...
communism does work...
but in only one instance...
post-war countries,
esp. given the plight of
Syria...
                
           it's a transitory period...
so the Syrian baker
can trust the ******* Syrian
taxi cab driver, once again...
communism is not a failure
in that it's applied as
a fail-safe concept,
a rebuilding mechanism,
  
like Poland... 1945...
through to circa 1990...
    it worked...
  **** it worked...
  eastern Europe didn't
receive funds from the American
Marshall Plan...

but Sweden and Switzerland
did...
   i thought they were neutral
countries in the conflict?

communism is a failure if its not
considered a recovery economy,
or rather:
    there's no or other at this point...

in post-war scenarios,
it's the only egalitarianism that works
in the short-end...
this is not English style of
egalitarian idealism...
   (a term i borrow from German
idealism of Kant)...
            no... the English don't know
that their egalitarian idealism
doesn't work...
it's too soft...
the war was harsh...
you're not going to rebuild
the same civic plateau with capitalism,
of a country that was either:
invaded by a foreign power,
or imploded into chaos via
a breach of ethnic-civility...

you can't rebuild Syria with
foreign intervention...
communism is far from a failure
of ideology...
   it was always supposed
to instigate a transitional
period, a post-scriptum...
   a communism can exist,
successfully, for... roughly 50 years...
once the tragedy passes...

and then the free markets can
take over, capitalism can have its
"stage fright", or rather its
wild west...
            but not before the circa 50
years are over...
  a Syrian baker,
   must begin a civil dialectic with
a Syrian taxi driver...
no amount of foreign intervention
will solve the problem...

it's not like you can reuse
the rubble to rebuild the same houses...
sure... the darkest hour
in Poland under communism was
when martial law (stan wojenny)
was implemented by
Wojciech Jaruzelski
(Roy Orbison, no, really,
Roy Orbison)...
food-stamps, long queues at supermarkets
rationing... only white vinegar on
the shelves of supermarkets...
the whole presupposition of war
against the Soviets,
  counter measures to
      avoid the instances of
the Hungarian / Czechoslovakian
occupation / suppression...
   the Parisian spirit of '68...
every time i look into your loving eyes,
one look, from you,
  i drift... away!
    i pray, that you, are here, to stay!
anything you want, you got it...
anything you need, you got it...
anything at all, you got it...
   bay.................................. be!

western Europe received pittance
pay-checks from H'america...
eastern Europe received the hard graft of
communism...
             and it worked...
because it was supposed to work
for the 50 or so years that it did work...
when it stopped working...
my home town lost roughly 20K
   metalwork jobs...
  the metalwork factory was scrapped,
cut up, sold to foreign investors...
Celsa? i believe that's a Spanish company...

some people grew old, retired,
some went on the dole,
some became homeless,
some migrated to other parts of the country,
otherwise took the bold route
and emigrated to other parts of
Europe and the world...
a town dies, the people disperse
if in a dispersing worthy age...

     but i turn on the tube...
and listen to all these leftist lunatics,
and i'm like...          what?!
communism works,
   it works, in exceptional circumstances,
and like i said, before an equal
footing competition market resurfaces,
you're getting ****...
             this is not to suggest that
communism is at odds with capitalism...
apparently... it never was!

         but... you can't rebuild
Syria with capitalism...
  first you have to return to a commonly
shared civility, a counter to what
already exists in the English egalitarian idealism...
best represented as:

a 200m race at the Olympics...
all the competitors walk an equal
pace for 100m...
        and the next 100m?
they do their sprint, they compete!
but not until communism creates
a basis for a mutual trust of civility
between a Syrian baker,
and a Syrian taxi driver...

      capitalism and outright
competition will never solve the problem...
because outright competition
creates nothing more than
an dystopian: post-apocalyptic
mad max: fury road endless cycle of
recurring opportunists...

scavengers...
                      it works... in periods of
roughly 50 years...
what... and capitalism isn't prone
to its own timescales of economic crashes?!
see...
             even capitalism has hiccups...
but like i said:
    communism works...
for time periods, post-scriptum of
the damaging events...
                        under exceptional circumstances
of it being necessarily implemented...
like world war II... the Syrian civil war;
and only then!

****... my grandfather and all the other
school children, actually cried
when news hit the country about Stalin's death...
i have access to an actual ****** source,
what do you have?
  a target of ridicule,
        donning a che guevara t-shirt
who still hasn't rid himself of acne?

I am in cold. I watch that garish ward brimming with false light. Bleached air from his lips touching hers. He hides in her mane, sterile and alone. Why is it so hard, such an insurmountable task for you to see how I lather my face with paint each day just to smile at you?

My face, my heart, my mind not a blank canvas that I hide with these diluted pastels but a deep, rich chorus of colors and oils that were never meant to be hidden. But the ward will never know.

There are thoughts and opinions rolling like a torrent behind this mask I call a face. This world was against me from day one, don’t you dare say I’ve given way to cynicism. Nor optimism, pessimism, or God-forsaken realism. Can't I think the earth is beautiful, God is good, I am right, and people are wrong without someone putting an -ism behind me? Of course not. That's narcissism. Egoism. Egalitarianism.

It is what I unknowingly wrote across my mask. But I never chose to attend this outdated ball, masquerades are cliched. Pure romanticism...surrealism, the kin of commercialism whose visage is a polychromatic wheel of logotypes that you just have to know en masse.

What if I stop believing that compassion Himself can hate me? No, no that's atheism. Agnosticism. And if I'm better than someone because He said so then that is monotheism in all it's delicate flavors.

Can't I breathe alone in a quiet corner? Isolationism. Can't I want to simply be a follower, and think about life, literature, and art? Incomprehensible, that would be totalitarianism, absolutism, authoritarianism. What if I want to give God all the power He gave us, and watch the world change? Fascism. Revolutionism. Extremism, because releasing the wheel is extremism. Existentialism.

And what if I choose to remove the mask, break the levees, release the floodgates,    my thoughts and opinions, never watch my tongue, and speak the world as it is: A capital M-madman's schism of logic and faith. As it has always been, and always will be. I will always be in love with the counterfeit ward. And yes, there's a label for that: Catastrophism.

So I watch Beauty and his Beast touching in fluorescence. Bleached breath, save for the smoke of his lungs in hers. Sterile and alone; I am in cold, and cold hurts me.

Just as the pyramids would,
In the deserts of Cairo,
Snow-capped mountains gleam distant,
As if Kings on the Main.

This distance complete,
Through the eyes of the beholder,
As from a sea-sided office,
We with watch with wonder lust.

Bright streetlights,
And red lights, and green lights,
And stop signs,
As decadent name-change,
Perceives as if older,
As bigger, as bolder.

Musicians and artists,
Poets and Marxists,
Authors and boxers,
All convene to sing songs,
As egalitarianism,
Sings us a calm, blinded lullaby,
As the idea to be grasped,
In this young mind of mine.

They call this no small town,
In which not one arcade resides;
Gun crime is never,
In percent, as we ride,
A wave of communal,
Small-town "world peace,"
We'll take some money,
Off the governments lease.

In a sense we are distant,
Different, contesting,
A world which conforms,
As if all can and will be,
A slave to a master,
Sociopathic disaster,
As we run faster and faster,
Away from that stream.

We are the masters of our fate,
As we rate the world's hate,
On a scale from 1 to 10.

We are secluded,
Yet unconfused, not diluted;
We are more aware of this world,
Than it is of itself.

We set the sidelines,
As guidelines to life,
As we watch with some bias,
As we remain neutral to strife.

We are the Power,
And we are the River,
Ripped from the main-stream,
We create; we are free.

DISCLAIMER: READ THE WHOLE THING IT IS MUCH MORE GENIUS TOWARDS THE END



Bypass the circumlocutions of elementary rhetoric and the obvious bulges into the ethereal realm of supersolid supercalendar emigrations of the wednongues of vogue emigrating into a new frontier of boundless awakening that blisters the sore solid metaphors of a crumbled bricolage of articulate history becoming a reiterative gabble of entropy that curdles the blood-boiling hatred of those envious of those that capitalize on the true girth rather than the flaccid otiose etymology of differential physics becoming a denatured figment of prideful imagination on a frolic with desuetude in the normalization of the wernaggles of ewnastique that defile the ridicule of even the most astute aspirations of those that despise history rather than reveling in its subtle ironies that swelter in connotation rather than suborn the cadged bridewells of those that are estranged by the Dousk Remix rather than the Voulez-Vouz Danser populism of true urbacity expanded upon a national stage as an anthem not for profligate saturnalia but rather an ode to the odium of the reckless titanism of titanic intellects clashing with the dudgeons of intermittent eye-rolling irreverence double-dealing a stacked deck of pleckigger on an intellectual stagecraft for bandwagon apostasy that leads to solidarity among tentative allegiance. We barnstorm for a grift in the grimace of an alpenglow winter to lead to the salvation of all people united under the banner of neat nexility rather than long-winded elocution reserved only for notched caliber against the nativist diatribe that serves the subservience of the engineer of the white chattel indoctrinated into turnstiles of professed irreverence for demarches of solidarity that is gainsay for gain rather than pittances for pitfall. Rhetoric should be duly curtailed against the overcomplication of hypertrophy and trimmed into the sweet success not of saccharine fads of foofaraw but engineered resistance that galvanizes albatross intellectualism into a revved engine without purpose that mobilizes because of estranged impotence in the revelry of the subtle rather than the cordial tethers of emergent entelechy of the esemplastic orthobiosis that we should all strive for not just as pioneers of the socially engineered harbingers of a remedial society but also for the trendsetters that communicate with the canvass and the celluloid rather than spelunking dormitage of drifted anomaly perceptible to everyone but heralded as prominent by the rigged ambeer of a toxicity of a plumage of city over state and country over planet. We need to provide the verdure of the verdant forest that survives the conflagrations of rage indoctrinated by systematic attempts at stilted ignorance that is engendered more by Leftism than Right-Wing thinkers because in general when observed in organic settings we notice that the Right-Wing escapes the sloganeered jaundice of limited bounds for otherwise boundless thought and provides more seminal pathways that reconcile normative virtues with entrenched inveterate harbingers of economic success. The faulty deadstocks that propel the retinoise of the anomaly among Leftism to disregard the girouettism of a world that is so piebald with dishonesty that it elects a patronage that seethes with passion but aimless in its curiosity for deeper embedded candor because the popular might count themselves among the aristocratic Left but the truly Promethean belong to a centrist tribe that borrows the ingenuity of spurned but never spurious interpretations of a sputtered history that remarks with revelry  rather than disdains with #CancelCulture irreverence that seeks to deracinate all context for insipid utopianism that is a shared prerogative of the delusional Left against their complaints of Sebastomania among right-wing zealots that are equally invalidated by the frogmarch of a dilettante history curbed in storms of a pure tempest rather than a banal reiteration of novelty phrased with participant intonation rather than blathers of whispered arbitrage ennobled by hypocrisy immune to criticism among those that crusade for economic justice without understanding formal flombricks of the true gnomic riddles of alchemy fundamental to global panoramic pleonasms becoming the aleatory vagary of admonished warning that spars against spartanism. Instead of pilfering from the exorbitant defalcation of immunized partisan bromides against the ratcheted warranty upon defective obsolescence we must coalesce around the imperious ****** of divinity bequeathing the living water of a fully-lived life that qualifies its felicity not by junctures but by an overall harmony that conforms to the finicky demands of an overly polarized complexion of dimpled conformity founded on girouettism that earns more traction than the deasil sundial emergence of brimstone rejection for alabaster limelight we must urge others to ditch the conformist utilitarian usucaption of the usufruct of manipulative sports for domineering talents suborned into inclement straits because of unwitting albatross that replicates into a fission of uniformity encapsulated in the half-assed witticisms of attempted belletrist succeeding only in alienating the noxious fumes of alveolate diminutive reduction rather than expansive detritus that scrapes the wreckage of a turmoil to build masterworks out of broken sculptures themselves indemnified from a categorical judgment by the panoramic oversight of proctored civilized ambition. We need to exhort self-education that hinges upon not a listless acquiescence to a second-exit impulsive barnacle to the urchins of brimstone because of an insipid blather of flapdoons of brittle banality because the hackencrude is an outmoded entity to the vast resources of the sizable capital of the growing power of the intelligentsia over the weakened grasp and wrangle of terminus meeting consuetude weakly enough with pleasantry to appease but ultimately a complete witwanton persiflage of sizzled destruction rather than the savory contemplation of the cotqueans of majesty derided but never derailed by terminal revivals because the generativity of the titanic original might not be a popular indoctrination but the liberated thought of the untethered is ultimately more decisive in world affairs than the synergistic hive of bees building an imperious defense against dynasty built only upon provincial hatred of hidebound illiteracy combustible into the brazen bravado of a reckless intrepid effrontery against civilized chains into the ******* of complicit interconnection rather than dissolved dissolutions that solve global problems more fundamentally rather than driving through avenues of wide pressures gilded with expansive growth but ultimately bereaved by the ultimate succor of the youthful exuberance of captive audiences rather than the wily connivance of genius unbounded. God is obviously a benevolent provider of all bounties and despite the conspiracies that predicate heterodoxy the uniform mannequin of a mascot Democracy ultimately becomes a fickle bandwagon allegiance to relationship rather than a true witness to authentic ******* to a subservient relationship to a creative God synergized with energies that should exceed all galloped windlass into demarche and expose rather than rundles of ridicule interminable because of the permanence of kitsch memorial rather than living sculpture that breathes a swiveled light that beckons preened self-accountable responsibility to a dutiful matriotic duty of optimism rather than a contrarian futility of those that despise the unequal suave crackjaw dementia of the temulentia of derangement among crowds that provide fewer bounties and more deprivations calculated to indenture need rather than motivate want. We must motivate want by fueling ambition rather than quelling dissent in defensive posture because that strategy of antinomian discord is a dead-end street against an inveterate enmity that can never be fully deposed but only opposed with nominal futility raging with violence rather than seething with the motivation to reform because reform is an efficacy mobilized. Novelty of wednongue propriety grown through the heirs of drastic impertinence gilded from the siphon of lavadero hypogeiody blasphemous in bletonism that guards a piebald scrivelo because the sought dementia of an overwrought alacrity is a purpose without a terminus but an ambition soaring through scraped ice cream stratosphere that marvels at the minutiae of the civilized anthill that becomes a beehive of industry when the rationale of moral reform becomes insuperable rather than suborned into effete recursive cycles of pittances of pitfalls obsessively pondered but never solved because the fustilugianation of a forever tampered travesty is the esemplastic rejection of a categorical aim that leans of windlasses of elegance that surpass the levy of hatred and achieve sizable filagersion to squirm above the squawk upon populace rather than the consternation of an urbane but cloistered metropolitan arrogance contravened by the historical emergence of happenstance locales fostering the most well-guarded treasures of bohemian pedigree rather than dimpled resolve faffling on ergasia in bromidrosis rather than cavorting with a skeptical indoctrination by default evaded by those that equate an improbable scenario with a definitive solution to acatalepsy quandary because by reckoning with indeterminacy we grow in historical lineaments and solve global detritus by recycling the rattled brevity of promontory preens of plumage into a recursive ostentation defalcating heavily from sturdy macroeconomic proofs of the trendsetter rather than the trend and therefore grapple with profound personalized disdain rather than cordial harmony. Essentially by the logical positivism of proof we remind ourselves that obviously a chattering blather swims in tentative irony as long as it is a penultimate relativity because the lack of capstone ensures that the relevant treads beneath the mountain of rapprochement in benign endeavors to survive and thrive in definitive conclusion rather than intermediary conclusions of amnesia in jaundice. By the gnomic apothegms that guard the fortress of the demassified we have quantulated that the preposition of continuance is in fact a guarantee of the fickle supremacy of the recent and even more preponderantly the supremacy of expectancy of latent junctures that never manifest becoming a dictatorial rule of driven alacrity of wastrels that should fast from conclusive opinion and rather favor the primordial fabric of the inveterate truths rounded by the conversion of alchemy solidified by calculated canon converging with esoteric apartheid against the simultagnosia of the simpleton drivel of primordial myths bowdlerized from history neither lewd nor depraved but moribund because of the conclusive ****** of a peremptory intermediary certainty predicating a more precise foresight. The lackluster luster of numinous foghorn subliminal graft is a nativist confusion of legionnaire mettle swaddled by the cosseted grasp of interminable boundaries that demarcate linear time even when supersolid filigrees of elemental confusion erratically swerve into oblivion that becomes a forestalled happenstance so hapless that the connivance of alveolate synergies necessarily precludes event from becoming indelible because the tentative judgment wallops the tributary incontinence of the warble of axiolative jaundice materialized by crystalline fabrication neutered by soundbyte sclerotic calculus inveterate in summations of conclusion only because of peremptory weights upon geometric certainties rather than logarithmic dampers of attenuation that spar against spartan priggish epithets upon the flamboyant grit of grisly specter of speculative sepulchral venal vanity. The timberlask cineaste irony of the partisan usucaption of sapwood is a pirated timber of startled alarm becoming a useful or useless cacophony of barnstorm for the deadstock of past cadasters of rigmarole in the docimasy of pretense in impartial circumstance in specialized oratory bounded by a hemmed bailiwick of verdure denatured by the flombricks of subtle persuasion that ignores minority fringes of opinion that occupy that majority that cowcatchers brush aside rather with cruel contemptuous unkempt slippery agenda for drivel that spawns ingeminated redoubled explosions in participle bias rather than conglomerate arraignment of arrayed brooked swamps turgid not with the pettier travesty but the charade of a brokered ceremonial calculation against the wrikpond spurious by degeneration into corruptible complicity that thrives in obscurantism but never obscurity when the omnified owns a capitalized swiftboat of never a temulentia but always an optimism in the curvature of lineaments into the self-educated shepherd of the ultimate autarky rather than insubordination in the scrappy schlep of demographic ripples of swift enrichment at great personal flops in the floppy disk of a Democratic enrichment rather than a parched rectiserial hidebound tome. A quirky time stanched by tomes of patricide against family ingratiated by parrots to anthem but lacking the lettered verve of ignoble but parsed parsecs of finite light captivated into prismatic conscience we launch the demerited ploys of foible into the heralded controversy rather than the unheralded mercenary hands behind dogmatic ripostes livid because of the suave prestidigitation of the sublime mastery of the syncopated irony of mismatch attuned to radical rhythm we become bloated slaves to a rich lineage decried widely in attempts of covert coup raxes of a largesse of continual primipara perversions of courted cotqueans of uxorious justice that by defalcating from tributary orthobiosis in specious conjecture esteemed by rattled martexts aspiring for fraternal solidarity with the ****** esteem masquerading as the auctioned flivver that the merchandise of fluminous optimism cannot be an effusive blanch of blarney bolstered by bumptious bromides of brunt blackmail but rather the artform of subterfuge needs the insidious and invidious traction of creepy Thriller subtlety to garner the vapid traction of immobilized discontent foster to malcontent rarely abridged by even the most polite courtesy of diplomacy because of inherently insatiable demand that it skulks in undetected quarters flexing in the shadowy penumbra of transparent crackjaw enigma becoming an obvious blister or a gabble of raw jaundice sweltering into thermolysis by the eventual convergence rather than the improbable divergence of fissile time beckoning its own flashy revolution while denaturing the very presence of delusion as a herald more of the authenticity of animadversion rather than the sclerotic carapace of ragged asphyxiation in the aplomb whisper entombed forever by milquetoast inefficacy in hypersensitivity rather than a flourished malfeasance of a predatory grip upon seizure among catatonic graves of incontinence braving tribulation for crucibles of the most prosodemic surgeries of the furtive froward recalcitrance of deliberation in ignominy that enables that transmogrified skyscraper of Titanic lies to become a sunken vessel of harbored prestige lost on penultimate dice rather than winning pokerish villiany. Essentially the jeer of Morel Under a Disco is a winning brandished authority to chug the capers of inscrutable difference in blandishment imposture to cavort with an elegant plot twist that enthralls abiding decay to revert into a primordial confidence of livelihood to deter the frogmarch of time into the despairing quagmires of a livid balkanization of a simultagnosia of ageotropic monoideism fomented on fervor that leads to the paralysis of privacy and the expedited furor of moribund depraved proclivity so that the offset of morale and rationale can outfit civilization to brave the tempests of cordial divisions cemented by courtesy in order to safeguard against the yeggs of paranoia seeking ultimately the craven caper of disillusioned subconsciously felt retraction of indelible deeds into evaporated constructs that vanish too quickly to spawn the vigor of a cadged and utilitarian expanse of reiterative generativity that sustains the spanned sapience of primordial alacrity to ensure that brevity in outlook becomes longevity in subsistence because without a logical positivism grounded in unshakable tenets of God the demoralization of the vast majority is ensured and entombed in aimless squalor that leads to sheepish temerity compounded by wistful latency in regretful regression rather than a spandex bluster of a bravado of obesity to weather the persnickety wednongues of perdurable badges of instinctual shame slandered into prima facie denatured transmogrified cultures seeking cosmogony out of ordinary bricolage because the eventful triage of the nimble eludes parochial sight while the vastly capable outfox and outpace with such frenetic verve that they fasten against accident and transcend against heterochrony in ridicule that the unseasonable but seminal sauce flavors better the partially indentured optimism of a curated matriotism better than it serves the obviously interminable cycle of listless demiurges of malcontent that fuel conflagration rather than reformation to their own remorseful peril. Thereby, it is obviously concluded that to micromanage a society you must exert the capacity of a selective magnetism obviously predicated on demassified capacities for oaths of gratitude to endear and endure in the humane heart for the majority that sway few but encounter many that they find proper scruple grounded on axiomatic God to sustain not a lifeless priggish inclination but a bounded felicity that is not a carapace of an indigenous and insidious decadence to the extent pursuits of happiness swelter among the marginalized majority bereaved in powerless squalor slave to temptation not to derelict fascination but to provide aim to aimlessness and predicate their worldviews not on Racial Identity Theory which postulates too many counterintuitive pessimisms that are essentially neutered fustilug predicates of a world that requires such drastic seismic reforms in societal dynamics that the earthquake capable of such a realignment would exceed a 10.5 on the Richter scale which is 32x more powerful than the biggest earthquake in recorded history that would be so catastrophic in its implicit implication of the pretense that the consummation of the theory achieves the traction necessary to jostle every crowd into alignment that the collateral damage would endanger the very integrity and vitality of the Republic itself while exerting a tremendous existential dread of radical permutation that enables many travesties that abnegate the prerogatives of a privileged society in search of a facetiously engineered impossible utopia that could only be achieved by a dictatorial authoritarianism working in concert with benumbed sloganeering to engineer pessimism and malcontent rather than nurture the fair-natured optimism of a society that flourishes because it assumes naturally that the universe conspires in the favor of prosperity. If any hint of casuistry is evident in these postulates I wouldn’t be surprised but for rhetorical sanctity it is necessary for a nation bereaved of national icons not to despise the captive imagination of tyrannical transparency but grow from the liberating and partially liberal parable of a life maximized in limber for romantic enthralled growth that heralds with due consideration the paragons of time with reverence rather than soundbyte enslavement of parochial interminable twinges of a newborn and widely shared collective guilt of a decisively antinomian and pessimistic view on the evolution of human societies beyond catchy kitsch verve nexilities of bravado mutilating thirsts for inclusive mandates that are Boa Constrictors prowling with serpentine vitriol to vastly over-represent extreme fringes to dissuade nuclear families in an overt ploy of depopulation because the truer pathway to liberation is one that feeds the hot hand in the casino and bets that the winners will always win by deregulating their ability to bet large sums because of a transcendent supersolid mastery of time that the march and demarche of a boundless prosperity gouged by the fair demands of egalitarianism enables the card counter to achieve such a decisive advantage that his indentured socially coerced eleemosynary inclination to feed the flock endures throughout all epochs because of the necessary and incumbent scruples of God-fearing men to distribute their winnings won by cheating time to conquer time itself.

Egalitarianism
I’ve preached this practice
To its last final straw

Respite
I’ve hired the time
The strongest of clocks

Magnanimous
You’ve endeavoured too
It’s never true when you do

Coercive
I’ve attempted them all
The mightiest of guns

Vestibule
You never did let me enter
Probably knew I’d hide out

Vertiginous
Causation; I know it’s you
To Induce; I flail barely flickering

Transcendental
I divide you into parts
But your logic seems boundless

Perennial
I will continue to bloom
Even after your harvest.

I often wonder how much of human behavior is determined by the society in which someone is raised.

On one hand nostalgia has provided such a warm comfort within the constraints of my culture,
but on the other hand I've always been steadfast against nationalism.

Your society can, and often will, keep you in the dark, america (modern society in general) is a model example of such.

Most people would be content watching television with a fast food dinner of hotdogs or chicken nuggets their whole life,
but try to feed them the feet, brains, intestines, even bugs ground up and processed to produce such national treasures,
and they'd be running the other way, calling for a health inspector who would find nothing out of the ordinary.

It brings into question the very foundations of our reasoning.
What is right, what is wrong, what are we supposed to want out of life?

From eating, to learning, to working, to mating, nothing is set in stone.

If we're going off of what is purely human, the only truths are eat, sleep, ****, and ****.
Sometimes we can't even manage all of these.

These thoughts are filtering through my head now because for sometime I've been seeking a lifestyle "off grid",
and I've had to break down the way of thinking I've been taught is right, crazy has become sanity.

Birth
School
More School
Career
Single long term monogamous relationship
Retirement (if lucky)
Death
"Afterlife"

Now birth and death I can get behind, but as for the rest of it, I'm just not sure.

Agriculture, industrial revolution, private property
all for the advancement of our species, right?

But is this where we're supposed to be, what, who?

What about egalitarianism, what about I am he, as you are he, as you are me, and we are all together?
Hunting, gathering, sharing what you have, trading for what you need, one for all and all for one.

What's mine is yours because we are both stuck on this planet, in this time, in this life, and we all deserve to live.
My food, my home, my mate, my heart, my mind, what little we each have to offer,
why would you hoard? To live is to love, am I wrong?

I don't know.
But I'm working on it

How many death in the
life of him?
This is Viki;
This is his dance.

How much space in the
life of a form?
This is Vina;
She the unborn.

Together they sway,
Forward and back,
Viki the fire,
Vina the blue.

As lovers they exchange,
Put to sleep and awake,
With grace and love,
Compassion and joy.

But first
I consulted Kings lying beneath a sword
Uneasy at high noon!
By what duty
did they rule, benevolence or fear
Weakness or strength!
Did he view
his kingdom from a moving window
Square it away!
Or did they
walk by in quiet fealty as in looking at a lion
King of the forest!
The single despot
once held by all in stormy contempt
Commit them all to the deep!
The power vested
in the crown though this was their glory
Long live the King!
He thought
of a Republic but could not agree
Freedom Freedom!
Each man a King
as if he himself had grown additional limbs
We the people!
But could any man
born in idealist fervor remain as such
The invisible hand!
The merest taste
of an apple would remove his conscience
The lusting snake!
How tenuous
it would be to honor temptation so easily
Save me Lord!
And with so many
is sin best served in the heart of one man?
For I am Solomon!
Leaving behind
his favorite toy was when the moment arrived
A man haunted!
He resisted flight
though he was promised eternal life
An heirs lives forever!
The memory
of his name was all that was required
His name was his fathers!
More detective
than ruler he mastered prophecy
A spy in their midst!
He preferred
the absence of a single guiding principle
Except for his own amibiton!
For there was
none that another man would not dispute
The division gives purpose!
He knew freedom
resided in the illusion of belief in the absurd
A big lie is better than small!
Or in the
belief that the cross meant him no harm
We have lived in hell already!
For he was Caesar
and what was his was his as commanded
He received the blessing!
The thin thread
of discord were yellow black and white
And so began man’s discontent!
The braid
created more questions than answers
Borders of sand!
It was to be
richer poorer and everything in between
What do I care!
Social relationships
that accepted neither dominance or submission
Anarchy!
Social relationships
that demanded status and subservience
Royalty!
He believed
opulence fostered his acceptance by the people
The splendor!
For all his riches
so much remained for the common man
Incentive and reward!
It was the hope
of holes dug and steel forged by ideas
Entrepreneurs and prospectors!
His protection
was that no man could hoard their life
They were free!
But most of all
the trust he lacked was the same as theirs
The sword falls on every man!
The uneasy alliance,
two to collude or millions for a revolution
Trust or madness!
The first shot
is the hardest and their glory weighed upon them
Into the breach!
Mistrust of one another
was the first creation of law and order
No man is without sin!
For though anarchy
is the absence of power it is fear that crowns
Fear of each other!
The more layers
of gold upon his throne the more pronounced his mercies
The glory of a pardon!
Speech upon speech
to protect to feed to represent before God
I will be your savior!
For it was
their awe of him that made him King
They were peasants!
Who would speak
such as this except a man with enough belief
It was his gift!
And belief
was all that was required because of their doubt
Sincerity greater than truth!
Their awe
knew of nothing that a noble could conceive
For they believed!
It was the presence
of wonder as to what he was thinking
The stared at his face!
All that would
be required was to believe in his decisions
He was descended from the Gods!
For they knew
there was nothing they could do except beg
He would feed them!
And though they
hated him their fears drew relief from him
He was assurance!
He thought it best
to treat them like animals in the forest
To tame lions!
For nature harbors
no ego no memory no remorse no pride
Man’s dominion!
Only survival instincts
which he destroyed by providing for all
Their content was bought!
But where he
was wrong was that men were not animals
No they are Gods!
Providing for all
does not dig up seeds before they germinate
The will build towers to God!
For that is only
the thought of men in a tower who believe
Detachment and delusion!
And though
they knew they were the wisest of them all
For who else knew of these things!
He knew that
they failed because they were not animals
They had minds!
No, they were not
instead they were a garden full of hubris
The ego!
And to care
so much while wearing a crown is a lie
Survival is all that matters!
For the crown
only lives as long as a noble is pacified
Give them title!
And a noble
lives only as long as a poor man is pacified
Give them bread!
But a poor man
will not be pacified by eating cake or beans
Give me more!
He will not die
because it is his destiny to be so unfortunate
I am a man!
No, he will not
so what King would rule knowing any of this
The King is dead!
For it has all
been tried before, caring too much
Only for himself!
Caring so much
that freedom must be taken away for equality
Mindless egalitarianism!
Caring so much
that what a man may conceive is a threat to the crown
There greatest threat is knowledge!
Caring so much
that a possession must be taken for the good of all
For all possession is wealth!
But who decides
and who gives and who receives and who doesn't
Only the King!
Yes, it has all been tried
before and the King had no answer for him
That is why he is dead!
He knew all
of this and that is why he does not want to be King
That is why he is dead!
He does not
want to be King but there will always be someone
Wealth is his possession!
And that
is what we have now, someone not something
Save us from the evil doers!
For something
is a guiding light, a principle which we all know
Save us from the evil doers!
But someone
is nothing except what we believe them to be
They must believe in someone!
And our belief
is what someone must germinate in our garden
A lamb rise if you believe!

ah... Saturday... completely switched off...
in between watching the Wimbledon matches
a nature show came on...
all about bears...

                           bears... funny creatures...
pretty ingenious creatures...
    i think my totem is a bear...
     perhaps it should be a fox...
or an owl... perhaps even a rat...
    maybe a wolf... or a European bison...
or a stork...
      but i feel like a bear...

i'd oddly placed in this world...
i'm a carnivore that's actually an omnivore...
i have thumbs and pandas have
sort of thumbs too...
   pandas need to sit down to eat...
horses... maybe my totem is a horse...
or a boar... perhaps a snake...

but i like bears...
   i sort of walk about lazily like one: from time to time...
bare: bear: beard: beer...
at least in my native language the word
for bear is: niedźwiedź...
bare: bear: beard: beer...
  boor... that's another b-b-but... of course...

i think evolution span to great jokes...
man and bear...
       let's face it... what animal is intelligent
enough to grow thumbs...
and... tell winter to *******...
eh? the hardships of winter?!
   i think i'll just sleep it off...
and come autumn... when all the fruits
have fallen and are starting to ferment...
i think i'll eat like 100kg of rotting apples
and get drunk...

i've seen footage of drunk bears...
no cat video can top it...
drunk bears and drunk deer...
          i mean: cat videos are boring my comparison...

so in between watching Wimbledon this
bear show came on...
          they're carnivores but some "chose" to be
herbivores, they forage... men used to forage...
some are omnivores...
   the only carnivore among them is
the polar bear... what the **** grows in the Arctic
that also green? there's nothing green
in the Arctic except for the Northern Lights...

i feel like a bear...
           i want to be the joker among the carnivores...
be like: hey! look at me!
i can eat berries too! i can slurp honey
climbs trees like a monkey and rip into
coconuts... i swear to god...
apply biology to a geological timeline
and i can almost see some strange creature
emerge out of the bear that would
completely obliterate the origins of monkeys
and the evolution of monkeys...

or perhaps... that wouldn't be the case...
and that's only because bears are loners...
oddly enough: i'm a loner too...
sure... when social-stresses come into play
i switch gears... but... dump me in
a forest and i'll start wandering...
on the odd occasion i might curse at myself...

then again: bears don't have a clue about
conjuring a minotaur, a cyclops(e),
that horse-man-torso-"thing"... or mermaids...
then again: the Egyptian gods had heads
of animals and bodies of man...
hard to combine...
there was never an ancient Egyptian god
with a head of a monkey and a...
a shaved body of a monkey...
      i wonder why they were blind to such
imaginings... perhaps they feared
the obvious?! the similarity?
                            
they must have sensed it back then...
  they would rather put a jackal's head on a human
body than put a chimp's head on a human body...
name them: Amun,
      Anubis, (i'll exclude Apophis and Ma'at)...
  Ra, Horus... Thoth... Sekhmet...
                   Sobek...
but to be honest... i never found the Egyptian myths
alluring... i just mention them now because
i'm thinking about bears...
    but i couldn't just chop my head off
and chop a bear's head off and switch...
for starters... invert this head-chopping business
and put a man's head on a crocodile...
or put a man's head on a cat... or a crane...
hell... sure... enlarge the body of the animal...
for the "shoe to fit"... and what do you get?
sphinx riddles...
                    i'm really ******* surprised the ancient
Egyptians didn't invent the guillotine...
i'm actually shocked they didn't...

wow... what a strange advert: get better therapy...
it has a woman talking to her
Google Nurse... gizmo... or whatever you call
her... the grand A.I. project...
interesting is a buzzword for the tool...
toxic relationships etc. and the advert ends
with: seek real contact with real people...
are there unreal people? most probably...
are there unreal objects? yeah... inanimate objects
that can travel at the speed of light:
given that light is animate "object"....
the sun might be an orb in the sky...
but look at it with naked eyes and you'll
soon see the Ultraviolet pulverising sheen on it...
it doesn't shine... it doesn't glow... the moon does
that...
         the sun is chaotic... it sort of twirls
and "froths" and whirls... in Ultraviolet...
              it's like a melting metal when sieved...

come to think of it... is anything in this world
inanimate? French philosophers loved thinking about
chairs and tables...
i like to think of a chair on an abstract planet...
is the chair inanimate? but the planet is moving...
this advert prompted me...
so many people live a life of lacking question-worthiness...
people ask these stupid questions about
their stupid mistakes they keep repeating...
like the phenomenon of the recurrent dream...

only today i had a "blackout" dream where i was
eating a burger... but i think it was a dream
that informed me that someone was dreaming about me...
because i didn't see anything:
i think i just read while asleep: YOU'RE EATING
A BURGER... am i? i didn't see ****...

i'm dying to find out if i can write the...
right... at least the Hebrews are consistent with their
deity: they always said: it's all scripted...
there's no imagining "him"...
right... so what's the Tetragrammaton in Katakana?

    my best approximate is:

ヤハワ    (ya-ha-wa) - hmm...
                     i know, right... no Adam-and-Eve of the original
hiding of the vowels... and that W is not part of wHEN
but part of vERY...

what's the alternative?
       it's sort of "counter intuitive" when it comes to Katakana...
since? the language is orientated
with syllables that begin with consonants:
consonant-vowel...
there are no syllables of a vowel-consonant nature...
there's MA
                   but no AM...
and with the mysterious Katakana N sharing equal
status with the vowels... hmm...

so it's like: can you please hide a Y in an A?
that's how it works... i had it all wrong...
i seriously had it all wrong... the whole WIKIPEDIA
matrix of Katakana was not
about hiding an A in a Y... but a Y in an A...
for example...

    it's not about hiding ア in ヤ (A in Y)
but Y in A: ヤ in ア...

          タ (T) in ア (A) and not A (ア) in T (タ)...

K (カ) in A (ア) and not ア (A) in カ (K)...
it even looks logical like that... how the vowels
accommodate the consonants,
they "unravel"...
even though there's no AK to each KA...
the vowels are ingesting consonants...

there's only one "strange" dynamic...
between the free-standing vowels and the only
free-standing consonant: N...

the vowels:

ア イ ウ エ オ (a, i, u, e, o respectively)

   the "consonant" N: ン...

it works differently in this instance...
in this instance the "consonant" is ingesting
the vowels... not the reverse of the vowels ingesting
the consonants for the syllables...
just look:

ナ ニ ヌ ネ ノ (na, ni, nu, ne, no, respectively)

but all other consonants work in an opposite
dynamic: although they're written as BA MA KA...
how they're written is actually AB AM AK...

but of course i'd also revel in Hangul...
the Korean script...
but not all websites are compatible with it...
while almost all are compatible with
the Katakana...

i feel like a bear...
            and i'm also feeling terrible English...
there's this current ad. project...
crisps in? or crisps out? in / out of where?
sandwiches... IN! IN!
but unlike someone who's "terribly" English...
sure... crisps inside sandwiches...
but i'm talking about vegetable crisps...
dried beetroot, dried carrots...
dried sweet potatoes, dried parsley...
i don't mean putting standard potato "fries"
into buns of bread-dough... with cheese...
maybe some fresh celery stalks...
some pickles... yummy... i'm already salivating...

last night i got back home around 2am... limping...
the previous night i had a tumble on the stairs...
drank about 35cl of whiskey... tumbled...
****** up one of my toes...
throughout the shift i was walking with a quasi-limp...
trying to re-orientate my toes so i could
place my foot better...

i got home and drank another 35cl of whiskey...
went to bed around 4am... woke up around 2pm...
i felt mentally exhausted...
i love it when they throw me into these situations
above my usual pay-grade...
while about 12 people have been laid off...
i'm still punishing myself with ambition...
well: if i'm aiming to be a chemistry teacher...
might as well learn crowd control...

even today: i'm not even drinking that much...
but i'm already exhausting myself mentally by
peering into the Katakana...
i already mentioned: i would look into Hangul more
often if i could simply ctrl+c / ctrl+p more
of the script... but i'm only allowed 2 examples
of Hangul at a time...

for example?!
                           너    (-|)
     N  (eo)                                 i.e. you...
sort of... better example on:

oh man... but that match at Wimbledon?!
   between  Nick Kyrgios and Stefanos Tsitsipas
today?! that was something...
this is me returning to the sensible secular reality of...
i started watching a tennis match...
i ended watching a tennis match...
but there was this bear show in between matches...

i suppose any European can appreciate
either Hangul or Katakana...
   personally? i can't be the next Ezra Pound and fall
in love with Chinese ideograms...
just like most Europeans can't fall in love
with Russian ideas...
       i abhor English egalitarianism...
                         a lot of people abhor Communism...
i abhor that Capitalism usually invokes
making money from the misery of other people...
or the concept that they are nothing
but useless consumers...
    hmm... just start buying whiskey...
the odd shoe once in a while...
and bicycle parts...
                                start going to prostitutes rather
than trying to get a girlfriend and spend
money on gigs...
       i've distanced myself from pair-bonding...
i can't stomach that pair-bonding *******
when in public... i couldn't stomach a girlfriend
who ended up telling me "what a special we were"
when she was competing for the attention of other
women to show me off...
        
and how hard is it for two bears to mate?
given they solitary creatures?!
pretty ******* hard... but it's purer than some
chimpanzee harem...
perhaps bears didn't evolve to shed their fur
for a ****** good reason...
personally?! i too would love to hibernate
and never have knowledge of winter...
no... i take that back... i wish i could sleep through
the summer... i abhor this cult of:
*** only happens in the summer...
    *** should happen in winter
so that two bodies can warm each other...
counter what nature dictates...
after all: i stand outside of nature,
i stand outside of time i stand outside of space...
i am the abstract quantum of this world...
because i admire fire as much as i fear it...
should i find myself in a forest ablaze...
because i admire water as much as i feart it...
should i find myself in a leaking boat
in a middle of a storm at sea...
    but compare that with drinking a glass of water
on a humid day...

that's my answer to: and you will know the difference
between good and evil...
by consensus that's already decided:
but it's lied about... it's left hidden... for the advantage
of others to gain from...
will i be conflating polar opposites?
will i call night day and day night
should i venture as far north as Alaska during the summer?
should i call 4pm night during winter
but also call 4pm day during summer?

eh... sure... perhaps Latin looks sterile... it doesn't have
a Nomadic aesthetic similar to either Arabic
or Hebrew... but i don't appreciate either
of these scripts... none of them could
have perfected mathematics
in a way that Latin script could...
the Ancient Roman concept of the coliseum would
never be translated into a football stadium
(that massive hole in the ground,
like a meteor crater of the past rumbling
and agitating the present) like the Latin script has
preserved...

since even the dangling sacrifice on the crucifix
couldn't overpower the stature of the Latin script...
i'll call it what it was and is:
a Greco-Hebrew conspiracy against the Romans...
even that couldn't undermine the death
of this script like what was used to undermine
the death of the Babylonian Cuneiform...
and sure... the Glagolitic script died...
   as did the Runes... but they are still retained
and fondly remembered...

but of all the other scripts of the world?
i have envy for two... the Katakana and the Hangul
(the Japanese and the Korean)
respectively... i have no care for the Mandarin
hieroglyphs... they do not speak more sounds than
me: i speak more sounds than them...
their encoding is just too pedantic: ancient even...
alien...
               because they write without
a consonant to vowel differentiation...
Mandarin isn't superior: it's all ******* emoticons!

🐩 🍞💩

basically: less skeleton and more form,
which reads as: dog eat ****...
            but hieroglyphs are hieropglyphs...
the eat might as well have been written as
ate...
     dog ate ****... who cares if it's a poodle?!

i couldn't find an emoji with eating...
so i chose bread...
because... what do you do with bread?
throw it?! you throw rotten vegetables
in a theatre... cabbages and tomatoes...
the best you can do with bread
is dry it... in an oven...
so it doesn't venture into... turning mouldy...
or you soak it up... in milk...
and mix it with pork meat...
and create Slavic pork-burgers...

dog bread ****...
i.e. dog ate ****... no?!

just reminiscent of yesterday... how stressed i was
at the beginning... but then how i dug deep
into the role... how other supervisors spoke
of trouble with some of the stewards
and how i had: ZILCH...
you're never up in a hierarchy...
you're always down... ******* down...

it's so much better to keep them in position
and if they're gagging for a coffee...
you get the coffee for them...
you don't tell them to ask for a toilet break:
you just allow free reign...
it's not ******* prison...
         when you give them free food
how happy they become...
of course i fancied two of the girls on my shift...
one ****** Somali goddess...
i swear i was looking at the Queen of Sheba for a bit...
then this mixed race girl with
my wild hope: god give me a girl with curly hair...
god give me a girl with curly hair...

but i kept roaming... i was always present...
my feet ached by the end of it...
but CONTROL messaged me... 0 times...
i told them: you can be on your phones for as along
as it might take to pretend to checking the time...
how many did go on their phones?!
none...
                  i'm going to celebrate myself...
why the **** not...
   i did a good job... i fed my "pride"...
my... "heard"... i checked on each one...
are you happy? yep... most were happy...
i was just waiting for one of them to say the words:
it was a pleasure working with you...
once that dropped i knew i was waiting
for some other people to get fired...
for... egoism... nothing else... pretentious egoism:
"pretentious" without any cultural
knowledge...

**** me... some websites allow Katakana...
all the emojis... but no enough Hangul...
****** me off...
        
i was really enjoying this match-up between
Kyrgios vs. Tsitsipas...
                it's tennis... ****'s sake with football...
then again: it's tennis... and not squash...
i just remember myself being stressed...
but once the herd / pride were fed...
it's how you look...
               people respond to looks so
much differently when it's otherwise an attitude
assurance...
              the less i spoke the better they
behaved... and the fact that i kept them fed...

walking and walking... more walking...
                 more walking...
                              even i was telling them:
i'm tired of ego-mani(a)c hierachic busy-bodies...
obviously i had one lose canon...
i told the rest of them:
just break yourselves... ignore him...
ignore him...
                 they ignored him...
let him... let him: feel rejection...

                        he's a spare wheel
when the 4 are already working...
                my pride... my herd...
                             that's what i was aiming at:
a reminder... can i work with Matthew?!
i just need that... i need the word to be passed along...
what did "Matthew" do?
he allocated us breaks...
he fed us...

                   that's all i need...
                                 i don't need ego-tripping
hierarchical measures being implemented...
i know i'm dealing with jokers:
but i'm also not a woman...
i don't need minor cues...
as a man i know that when i snap
i'll bite rather than shout...
    
                 perhaps that's why i love the ontology
of masculinity...
           ontological-masculinity is
the antithesis of what's to be ever approached
via the movement of feminism...
the counter to feminism is... ontological-masculinity...
crazy women and ***** men...
perfect coupling... although there's a "third":
***** men: perfectly crazy:
as the prostitutes disclose... ***** men and
prostitutes...

Tanka like

We the classless
seek no revolution, only fairness.
We like quality
a well- balanced diet
And cold German pilsner.
The stinking rich,
one assumes they do not have bath often,
can continue to pong.
We seek no egalitarianism
but cold German lager
and a comma -less life.

what a ****-show...
    i don't have the luxury of renting... not in London...
i know that in Anglo-Saxon culture living
with your parents in your 30s is a bit weird...
and well into your 40s... probably your 50s...
magically weird...
     i truly understand it...
         how could a boy "love" his parents so much?
love?! what the **** is that?
i loved my grandfather, maternal...
my paternal 'un abandoned my father...
i don't even know what my paternal grandmother
looks like... or looked like... is she dead?
don't know...
            i have a fond memory of my maternal
great-grandmother...
she used to feed my grandmother: toddler...
opiates on the front in between the warring
Germans and Russians so she would shut up...
opiates... makowina... a poppy-seed milk...
my maternal great-grandfather?
oh... i remember him too...
a shadow... a shadow-form...
probably my first memory...
   he used to be a security guard at a nursery...
so one time he took me on a shift...
he played the big piano... i played the little piano...

it does look weird... it feels weird...
but me renting a house with random flatmates
while making some Pakistani landlord rich?!
sorry... what?!
       and living with five random strangers would
make it easier to go out and bring some poor
girl round for a one-night stand?
would it? could it?!
    as much as i abhor English egalitarianism...
i'm going to have to side with the Japanese
and the love-hotels:

learn from the outsiders... of all Asians the Japanese
are most likely to feed into the beloved state
of European queer... in-ness...
the isolated "genius"...
    of all the Asian people... the Japanese feel as much
isolation as the Europeans...
why do you think they competing with "us"
in ski-jumping events?!
  eh?!   any Thai any Chinese ski-jumpers?!
the eternal smile of Noriaki Kasai...
                                  ノリアキ   カサイ...
i love sport... i love sports...
   female tennis... ++... Olympic judo... Olympic wrestling...
Olympic pingpong... Olympic archery...
i love sport because i'm not a fanatic
football hooligan...
           i like kissing rough...
sometimes biting lips... sometimes smashing teeth
against teeth...

point being?
                   ラブ ホテル
(rabu hoteru) - love hotel...
                     well... we don't have that in Europe...
we just have brothels...
and the alternative being?
is there an alternative?
                  
i couldn't love just one woman...
which makes me smiles whenever, yet another Muslim
colt decides to be all brass-***** and blow himself up
for a reward he hasn't tested in owning...
hmm... hmph... ah ha ha...
it's as if none of them sat in a waiting room
of a brothel with a carriage of... line in sight...
folded, naked legs...

or ****** two at a time...
   i'm wondering about these supposed "martyrs"...
these involuntary-celibate frustrations...
sure... some ego-boost if i had my own condo...
revenue of a corporate lawyer blah blah...
eh... life's cheap... no need to buy dinner
or cocktails... we used to do that
in our teens... an art gallery ticket: bought by me...
a cinema ticket... bought by me...
a sushi bar finish off... bought by me...
then the grand disappointment...
a blow-job on the bunk-bed... she shared with her
sister... telling me while she was doing
the deed: what would by daddy think
if he saw me...

     **** your daddy... and i'm ******* off...
talk during *** is a bit like...
a bit like... ******* out a tapeworm when you're
also constipated...
i don't understand talk during ***...
can't eyes just speak for eyes...
eyes eat eyes... and... onomatopoeias...
can't we just pretend like we want to say
something: but can't?!

of course it's weird that i still live with my parents...
down the road an Asian household
undermined the English architectural sensibility
with three-generations of Asians living under
one roof: "Baroque" ugliness...
sorry... forgot the hyphens...

                 i get it... angry living among white people...
angry whittle-Asian kids... don't blame me...
blame your parents... for abducting you:
for not teaching you your mother tongue...
it's so funny when they become angry
in a tongue that's not theirs'...
akin to Asian Dub Foundation's: La Haine...
oh sure... because the Japanese are on board...
******... Pan-Asian reinterpretation of
of the Pan-Slavic movement that was Communism...

reiterated with the ****** left in the west...
pink hair: rainbows! rainbows! unicorns! unicorns!
not all Asians are Pakistanis...
some are Japanese folk that like
competing with Europeans: ski-jumping...
because we share: winters...
******* copper-necks...
        RE-TAR-DO PRIMO DELUXE!

it's not enough for a Genghis Khan to ****
your women once...
it takes a mind like me to **** your
women twice...
thank you: Manchester bombing...
yeah... thanks... Bangalore and
Lahore is: waiting with open arms!
Darwinism and the leftover of logic...

                 funny how these angry youths
are not speaking their own tongue:
oh... i have a retainer...
i was spreading it concerning the conflict in
Ukraine... brat brata pocharata...
i still have my tongue:
i was born into it...
                 too bad for these metaphysical nomads...
who probably require psychiatric care...
since... they can't be evaluated as quantifiably
believable...
   no... most of them? i've seen
the "process": INBREDS...

awkward looking people...
         INBREDS... they look comfortable...
but if i were adorned in Hugo Boss **** uniform...
eh?!
  would i, think, twice?!
i like the idea of dangling a stick... while eating a carrot...
but i also like dangling a carrot and...
using the stick for kink...

my mind warped... sorry...
you don't come near me...
even i don't want to come near me...
no one comes near me, unless it's trying to **** me...

ha ha... Muslim colt martyrs
wishing for a harem...
the same ones... that... never visited a brothel?!
wow!
o.k. let's test the waters... and of the supposed 72 virgins
how many would: could: would:
cut the phallus off of the dear: "adventurer"?!
dearest... Odysseus?!

how many could bed the said "satyr" for eternity?!
i'm... *******... waiting!
Asian my ***...

yeah... it's weird that i still live with my parents...
do they have to pay mortgage payments?!
no...
do i own Nicholas II banknotes...
and gold coins with the effigy... yeah...
but i'm "poor"... so?
do i own a rare bibliography... yeah...
but do women look beyond the stated obvious...
no? so? i'll be 70 years old looking at a 20 year old girlfriend...

i'll become a true artist!
        or i'll just simply **** myself...
    because... why the hassle? why the bother...
              i like blinking at a blankness and nothing
and something resembling a tree...
and that's because:
sometimes... people seem...
oh seem... oh so very... "borrowed";

can't tell the difference whether i want to **** on them,
**** on them or simply ***** on them;
hell... maybe all three... or perhaps the one...
finding that marvelous medieval cure using
leeches... bleeding out... maybe that's my first choicest
of choices.

aren't the dentists in England forcing people to
drink too much whiskey and perform the "detail"
using pliers?!
    really?! it's that bad?! the herald state of capitalism
is hiding dentistry issues?!
           thank god that i don't need anyone
to do my nail-clipping.

this one girl i was trying to date...
beautiful auburn ginger hued NPC...
her dog started licking my wounds on my knuckles...
weeks passed... i turned into a dog...
and started to nibble on my wounds...

father, dearest... mother's not dead!
first day she's gone...
he comes home and i get a shouting down...
why isn't the fence painted?!
why why why...
but the hockey stick is still a hockey stick...
ice is still ice...
i cooked  medium rare steak...
and the chips...
and i poached the pepper just about right
with the green beans?

i will never fall in love with q woman:
i can't allow myself to belong to somone
so much...
       no! nein! niet! nie!
         we were eating steaks come 5pm...
in absolute silence...
              you love her too much: you miss her too much:
i can't lace myself to love a woman like that...
let's just put it plain: YOU'RE WEIRD...
not fantasy weird akin to...
              NORMAN BATES....
   just ******* weird...
               normal weird...

i'm not you father...
i need to **** more women and love them
even less... i need to die with a heart of stone!
call me night... call me wind... call me the defeaning
wilting of all things confined to a skull.

Simpletons sprawl across the earth benumbed by quidnuncs without substance
They prattle indiscriminately amongst their hebetude and find travesties of proper justice
Inching along their snail mice paths they get ensnared by the cheese of Grapes and Wrath
Desiccated by the vainglory of smallminded insularity they chase the definitive epitaph
A grave dug by those that conflate laziness with profligate indecency cheap is their limited math
They foist expectation and I surpass standards unsung without a winsome glib tongue
But they expect a mountain of promiscuity invariably won
Their availability heuristic is patently dumb and insensate
Because few are the courtships among the dross of obscurity that yield infinite weight
I will fence with the gainsay of a thousand fools drooling over degradation and the epitomized tool
I will vanquish there sodomized and bowdlerized histories away from the foundering traipse of coruscating ghouls
For many are those within my rapprochement and many are the victories that I win
But unheralded close encounters of the magnetic north of womankind are buried by lies and purblind perspectives
They find elation in schadenfreude clothed with the most pyrrhic pride that ever existed
A pride of dumbfounded idiots reveling in perdition and clamoring for malcontent sedition
Against the inviolable traits of respectable personage and properly worn decorum, the latest edition
I will never capitulate to phantom skeletons wanting death and dishonor
Because my compass points to a broadened life of wife, husband and father
The groveling idiots of liberalism without bounty and meretricious egalitarianism gloat over lurid degradation
They besiege the tranquility of a levelheaded space and sabotage the atmosphere with disgrace and malevolent expectation
Then they expect me to vanquish specious caricature with their obstinate immature character
They are a battalion of morons waging war against innocence, chatterboxes of nuisance acting as impetuous barrister
I always get close, but never far enough to debunk their thoughtlessness and perjury against common sense
If I leer only at women, how the **** can I be on the ******* fence
Schadenfreude is common to mice that run the rat race at every imaginable price
And that is the extent of their consciousness, they infest the vogue with busybody nonsense and have false awakenings all the time in less virtue than vice
They think it is their obligation to dredge the sunk costs of life and obtrude with crime after crime against decency and peace of mind
Crab people likely have a venereal disease that pollutes them with a false solidarity for grime, lice and yeast of sour bread they easily find
They censor the easiest avenues to happiness and then put the burden of proof on me to find the convoluted route through the discord of naysayer cacophony and tainted atmosphere to find head, tail and *****
So I politely offer a challenge to the obstinate hordes that gloat for rebarbative squalor incongruent with inner peace and outer harmony… stop being so ******* pushy
Put a leash on your rabid dogs as you waft through life clouded by the fog of congenital ignorance and predatory instinct
Many are animals that only escaped extinction as ravenous predators incapable of the chivalry of the winsome wit and think
I have contentment in my life, talent runs through my veins, I have good posture and I ooze enthusiasm even when infamy haunts my many days so fatuously profaned
But contemptible is the nosy know-nothing that makes it sport to ignore profuse signs of success to invariably defame
The brunt of denial is upon the accuser who conflates conditional reticence with complete incontinence of a life inclemently tamed
I win at life almost all of the time, I court women often and come close enough to prove I’m fine
It is your lurid, fatuous and conceited imagination refracted through the decadence of Astroturf fascinations with contemptible ****** aberration that is completely asinine

(Don't Comment on this Poem)

chat bots:
zaby: niet: zeby... (frogs... not teeth)

this heat-wave is making everyone, fffff-ucking cuckoo! i must have lost it about 5 times today... sweating like a pig about to be slaughtered, rambling mad... drank more than i could ever possibly eat... for dinner? the thinner me... two Becks, a pork steak cooked ideally: so the juices were still running... and a few precious olives... with pickled garlic and pickled chillies and plenty of oregano and olive oil... that's it! to hell with this world... to hell with climate-change sceptics... i hate them as much as i hate atheists... i was actually going to post this on the 18th of June... but i thought... i'll wait... it was already been several days of this heat... i'll wait... something is bound to happen: something convincing... the fire in Wennington broke the camel's back... i ffff-ucking sometimes cycle through there... what the ffff-ucking hell happened? scorched earth! the earth's alight! and what am i doing? like **** i'm going on some fancy holiday... like hell i'm going to own a car... i just own a bicycle... i planted 8+ trees in my garden... i tend to talk... i hate climate-change sceptics and deniers like Holocaust deniers and atheists... and all the rest of the secular nunnery *******... the "sensible folk"... they: ****... ME... OFF... like i: don't have enough oath-words to use... i swear like a cobbler when it comes to these matters... today we snapped at each other over the littlest of things: you're keeping the fridge door open for too long... you haven't covered the coleslaw... seconds apparently turned into hours... do i, look... like a ******* camel jockey to you? take this ******* heat and go back to Sahara... that desert that was once a mighty mountain range... all deserts were mountain ranges once... aren't we living in times beside Copernicus... aren't we stuck with Darwinistic pre-history ontology? then all deserts used to be mountain-ranges... now crank up the heat... the sort of heat that makes people mad and animals bewilder themselves... i mention this as much generously later on...

i seriously think the internet can be a lovely place...
sure... there are some pitfalls...
for one: i avoided online dating sites like
the plague... i don't know how i managed to get
fooled by social media...
then again: those were early days...
back in 2005... facebook had a policy of: only university
students... being the first person in my family
to go to university i gobbled some things naively...
mind you: i was already using last.fm
to forage for new music... that's how i found about
Porcupine Tree... Spirit... Gong... to name but the few...
i must have come across Wolfmother too...
i was over the moon that they played in Edinburgh
rather than playing Glasgow...
mind you: i didn't mind that Tool played in Glasgow...
i was willing: more than willing to make that trip
from Edinburgh... that's where i met her...
met: and left her...
    oh man... we were getting crushed... or rather:
she was getting crushed in the pit of happy maggots...
water was being distributed in plastic glasses
so that people wouldn't faint...
   (of course i'm going to portray myself as
someone good... although i tend to think i'm a nasty
piece of work... better to think yourself rotten
than as good... it works to anyone's advantage...
since? there's always room for improvement)
    the glasses were passing us left and right...
someone finally managed to not drink a water from
the cup and it passed into my hand...
what did i do? did i drink it? nope...
            i gave the cup to her... she gulped it down...
the second time i managed to catch a cup...
i drank half of it myself... offered it to her:
she refused... on the basis that the first cup satiated her...
so i passed the cup further down in the crowd...
third cup... i gave it to her... she drank half...
the remaining half i passed down the crowd...
by then i was almost bear-hugging her to give her
space to breath... so much so that she managed to turn
around... we chatted for about two minutes:
the old internet: a.s.a.l... sort of shtick...
                              and by the depth of the music coming
from Tool... we started snogging...
                    did i mind that she said she was German?
hmm!? i'm currently listening to: die weisse dame
                                                                      (d'ah m'eh)...
yes... the Tetragrammaton appears in certain
European languages...  e.g. ANTHONY...
                     you don't say: ANFONY
                               you say: ANTONY...
who's foney / phoney?! is that like someone: who can
be the X-man Magneto but with telephones?!

i probably have regrets... once the crowd was dispersing
after the concert was over...
i saw her standing in some obvious location...
we got separated...
            mind you... did she come alone?
girls? going to concerts on their own? not then not now...
highly unlikely...
but who was she with? a girlfriend or a boyfriend?
regrets... i walked passed her...
   i was about to ask her if she wanted to go back
to Edinburgh with me for some ***... well: not exactly
*** as a one word question... more...
on the lines of relationship building...
    nerves? she ignored me? i was snogging her
just a few minutes and half-hours prior...
            men go to concerts on their own...
do women? rare...
                      women travelling on their own? also rare...
i used to take these weekend trips
to some of the capitals of Europe: alone...
   because... i've been on trips with "friends"...
****** trips... disorganised trips... pointless trips...
i said: **** it... i'm going solo...
                 should i have approached her?
n'ah... she just topped the feelings of seeing Tool live...
a favourite band of mine since the age of 14...
or 15...

what was i "saying"? oh... right... the internet used to be fun,
it still is...
              sure... you get some *******... most of them
are neurotic women... thought-police Katherine(s)...
oh Carol... or oh Caren... or Kerrie... whatever...
             women who have no idea that either William Burroughs
or Ovid or for that matter Marquis de Sade ever existed...
what? i know what cancel-culture is...
i've been banned on... several sites... just outright
deleted... no response...
i was suspended on one website for about 9 months...
what happened, after? the Streisand effect...
my absence imploded...
prior? one of my poems had... maybe... maybe 2K views...

now? i'm packing a crowd of about 50K...
ergo? it's a good thing...
              but it's unlike the internet of NAPSTER
and HOTMAIL... and MSN? what were those chat-rooms
where people would talk anonymously...
with girls in America... i remember those...
that's how we first plundered our presence
in this sphere... obviously publishers wouldn't
listen to us... and we had better things to do anyway...
it was either homework... playing the Age of Empires II
or chatting to people before bots and proper a.i.
was introduced...
way way before internet shopping...
i still remember the classic look of a high street:
there used to be a record shop on each of them...

now? you want a record shop?
Romford... that's the only one i know that still exists...
it's like: Mecca...
seriously... come to Romford... buy some spinning
liquorice...
             i don't even know whether i've grown into
England or whether England has grown into me...
i'm guessing both... of course the myth of my childhood
in Poland is locked in the vaults of memory
of my mind... how we used to play together as children...
hide & seek... marbles... tic-tac-toe...
   skipping ropes... oh sure: boys and girls used to play
together... we didn't get as far as cards...
Blackjack... i'm afraid that if i started playing
Blackjack with the boys i would have not moved an inch...
from where i was born...

but look at me now...
    London leech... in and outs of Bow and further afield
as far as Epping... on a bicycle...
this is home... it breaks my heart in a way
but also mends it...
  
hmm... i recently came across an advert for online
therapy... a woman is sitting in a cubicle in a toilet
and is talking about how her mind will not switch off...
questions: self-rhetorical answers... more questions...
then the lights are turned on...
and in a cubicle next to her another woman
tries to "squeeze" out in a silence...
the camera returns to the woman who "thinks"
she's talking to someone... clearly: she isn't...
              i tried therapy... i tried psychologists:
**** me... at least the most they can do is prescribe you
talk and camomile tea...
i talked to psychiatrists...
    hmm... with the ineffectuality of asylums...
being prescribed pills... usually associated with asylums?
ha ha... ah ha ha...
i put on... let's settle on 30kg...
     i was a porky pie...
                   oh! but it was the cure! i was being cured!
i was "depressed" one year... "schizophrenic" another...
"psychotic" throughout... but when i got a brain MIR scan
back in Poland and talked to a ****** neurosurgeon...
i asked: so am i mad?
he replied: if anyone says you're mad... they're mad themselves...

i love England... no... English people are not racists...
they're just sadistic sometimes...
they have a sadistic sense of humour...
and a sadistic diagnostic-rumour: murmur...
after speaking to this ****** neurosurgeon...
i had to go back... back to England...
oh sure... i still talked with the psychiatrists
that were "treating" me...
i still took the pills...
      until one day: i snapped...
        my mother was having spinal surgery...
i just finished reading Kierkegaard's either / or...
no... that was stalemate: read...
i just finished reading vol. 1 of Kant's critique of pure reason...
and... i couldn't find vol. 2...
i was so ******* *******...

and i told her: when i get out of here!
     did she think: when i escape my body?
to me... psychosis is osmosis... i'm going back to either
air... fire... water or the earth...
perhaps a coupling...

point being: the advert? me... i have a post-Soviet
distrust for psychology, psychiatry, atheism...
why demand people have no soul but make logistic
investments into there being a soul?
or the opposite... whatever the opposite is...
                  i wouldn't talk to anyone but a random
stranger...
                     *******... mother-****-gobbling-*******...
misjudgements?! hmm-um?!
    yeah: bravo-me for keeping my anger under control
by drinking... and taking: long walks...
i once became so mad i walked from Romford to...
Harlow... in the middle of the night...
down roads without any pedestrian access...
      sat in a 24h Tesco waiting to buy a bottle of Jack...
talking to this naive teenage girl...
bought the bourbon... walked into a forest
and started eating Lilac coloured mushrooms...
i literally stopped caring...
the "adventure" finished with me catching a taxi home
and sleeping for about 12 hours...

alcohol as a sedative? yeah... it is... it's a sedative
keeping me intact: from boiling over into absolute rage...
i need it to sweat it out...
every time i drink i'm sedated:
i'm like the antithesis of what most drunks are...
they just explode carelessly...
at rock concerts or football matches... reckless idiots:
IF YOU ONLY KNEW THE TRUE POWER
OF ALCOHOL... what focus it can give...
how else did the pilots of Spitfires defeat
the Amphetamine riddled pilots of the Messerschmitts...
how else? how else where they defeated?
alcohol is a war potent contained in the most
affectionate man...
  
mind you: i know what an alcoholic looks like...
my grandfather was an alcoholic...
he was also a stamp-collector... i still have his Soviet
stamps... i wonder... if i really wanted money...
how much could they fetch in the west...
but... since i'm not after money... because i'm of the motto:
ARBEIT MACHT FREI... and i like the idea of
things... formerly owned by others are like
keeping their presence nearest to me...
translated as travelling stars in the night sky...
and i've seen: plenty... of those...
there are constellations... but there are also these...
roaming stars... i can't explain it...

be kind to animals, be kind to these little critters...
this will allow you to distinguish:
or least favour the judgement concerning:
whether you should be kind to all men:
or whether not to discriminate by a higher earned
justice learned from the kindness showered
on animals...

spieglein spieglein!

ooh... i needed that break from that autobiographic
outburst... and as the maxim states:
by the sweat of your brows you will earn a living...
funny that... writing is hardly any hard-lifting...
but i'm drinking and sweating like a mad-pig
from my armpits...

the internet... hmm...
one sample of tracing my footsteps back...
Tantalus < Human Sacrifice < Annual Customs
of Dahomey < the Kingdom of Dahomey...
this is me... going backward...
i just overheard someone mention...
the Kingdom of Dahomey...
   and king Ghezo...

                             now... physiology...
all these massive basketball players... currently living
in America... hold on hold... on...
Europeans did what?
go around Africa and catch these specimen?
really? what good is a slave if maimed by a bullet wound?!
hmm...  what i was thinking all along...
Africans ******* Africans over
just like Europeans ******* Europeans over...
same shift... different story...
nothing new...
              so there were these people in Western Africa
that used to hunt for slaves...
and sell them off to traders... and... let's face it...
every trade-person is an impartial person...
money is not the coinage of spirit: thought...
ideas are...
                   we exchange ideas like we exchange
money: but in disparaging circumstances...
point being... i arrived at finding about the myth of
Tantalus...

        that's the beauty of the internet...
you might be looking for something: then again not looking
for anything...
coupled with reading a book...
Tantalus...
             Ovid's Amores: book 2 poem 2...
hey presto! Tantalus appears!
loose talk left Tantalus thirsty for ever
though up to his neck in water, clutching at fruit
always out of his reach

             well then... the beauty of the internet...
you get to build tunnels... cognitive tunnels: they are...
but... but there's also the automated filtering process...
i don't celebrate my work... i don't allow it to reach
advertisement status... i don't censor...
i filter... zeit ist die nur essenz...
              während weltraum: etwas das
                             unterhalt selbst...
wir ar entwender sklaven zu zeit
     oder seine eskapisten...

time is the only essence...
while space: something that upkeeps itself...
we are either slaves to time
or its escapists!

then again: i did start thinking about pre-historic
escapism as most associated with
English Darwinists...
those adamant creatures who find it absolutely
necessary to find the ontology: of a man without history:
a man without memory...
strange creatures... like most English thinking is...
don't get me wrong... it's very practical thinking...
ergonomic... egalitarian... soft-spoken words
to replace the pan-Slavic experiment of Communism...

that's ******* dangerous...
and what's the alternative? is there an alternative?
the English intellect invented
ergonomics and egalitarianism to counter
Communism...
               but it also invested itself in pre-history /
post-history... the ontology of:
prior to any recorded history... there was this
ontolology of APES...
i don't even think Copernicus could have
envisioned such widespread corruption of a simple
idea: nature abhors vacuums...
vacuums are filled by adaptation...

  i blame the mutation of Darwinism on the current
zeitgeist-narrative...
   no history? no history?!
          no ******* wonder i'm fleeing into foreign
languages... i've tested my thoughts on German...
i'm testing my thoughts on Russian...
i have this special case i need to test / write out...
i'm not staying: i'm fleeing...
but i'll be fleeing in a way that a violin
player is fleeing the sinking Titanic...

i need more drink to write this bit...
after all... i'm "changing glasses"...
i'm about to roam around the cheapest version
of Greek...
                       Darwinistic anti-historical pre-historical
ontology... i remember winters of such an abundence
of snow that you will never know...
i ******* hate climate-change-sceptics...
it's too hot!
        it's, too, *******, hot!
                             scepticism is not some *******
NEU-KOOL...
              BONKERS... no! neit! nein! nie!
i don't need lobster-people parading with
suntans... telling me: yeah: br'uh... all good...
like **** it is...
i hate these climate sceptics...
like i hate these Hitchen's era atheist...
sensible people my ****... my ****...

my feet are sticky... my brain is fried...
                     sure sure... let's just "rephrase" our next
no-new position comes the next year's flooding...

what the **** happened to:
CAUSE & EFFECT?!
                     physics isn't working?!
rules of physics somehow awry?"
                    hammer not good for nails?!
THIS IS WHY I DRINK...
i drink to contain my rage...
           but i also drink to fuse with it...
a writing ambition that...
will not be recognised... because:
zeitgeistnarrativ...
people need to hear what they are used to /
what they want...

****'s sake... with these climate change scpetics there's
no physics principle of: X causes Y...
ergo Y causes YX... ergo YX cause XY...
ergo... there's a ******* Z!
better explained?
   x causes y.. no! y doesn't cause x!
it's not a closed-case sceanario... you ****** g dim-wit!

dimmy dumb dimmy dumb wit!
ugh meister fantastisch spinster
   herr spinster: spaghettilockenwickler:
mampfenhausherr!

      hell is a fury that man obeys!
hell is a fury that a man obeys:
because... he inacts its tides...
selfish women discard hell's compensation
for personal gains...
best to spread the fury...
it has been... a long wait...
but worthwhile...
                            wahnhaft?!
                                           wer ist nicht?!

ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten kto miał spać... i ten kto miał: wstać...
i ten: kto został "zaspany":
  i ten kto ten kto nigdy się nidgy nie
obudził...
           i ten... komu zerk na "co to?":
dodało: nad-skupieninie:
ojra... ojra: coś nie tak!
o kurwa... hyba coś nie tak!

me? i'm looking at these two Russian
letters...
and then looking at these Latin transformations...

Спокойная ночь: spokojnaja no-
             hmm... exactly!
exactly? peaceful night!
but that's not my "beef"...
    J is replaced with Y...
                          since there's no Jeep in *****...
or therefore a DZ... dz = j....

                                     exactly: German folk songs
for drinking... gearing up to writing
while listening to some Russian agnst...
and i've just found... the second artist
in the Russian tongue that appeals to me...
first things first... Faun's Lorelei to get drunk and proper
"stammered" in order to better write...
that's that... but then... something from Russia:

to think...
                            i was lucky enough to... and not so lucky
to have had a Russian girlfriend...
lucky to have visited St. Petersburg and Moscow
but sort of unlucky to see in her cousin's face
that she was cheating on me...
i liked drinking with him: beer and dried fish...
talking about music and history...
i knew what his face was telling me...
he was sad that he knew she was having a French-fling
of two-boys one girl...
i hope i came across to suggest to him:
you know... i have been with prostitutes...
she over-estimates her worth, you do know: that i know that,
right?
i'm only here for St. Petersburg and for Moscow
and for the *****... the beer and the dried fish
that's such a better accomplishment to match
up with beer than peanuts...
you do know that i know she's ******* around?
but let me tell you: just one night...
i'll **** her brains out... i'll turn into a miner and
build a tunnel into her ego so that she remembers
me proper... oh don't worry... this narrative will only
come to be some years later...
i'll need to reflect for years before i realise
what my unconscious was instinctively planning:

good luck trying to be a tourist in Russia these
days... ha ha...
i was already out of the door come the moment
she wanted to turn my long hair into dreadlocks
and wanted to tattoo me...
i knew it was a short escapade: a gentle run
rather than a marathon...
the best part was: when she introduced me to her
grandmother: telling me it was her mother...
and we went to dinner: she introduced her mother
as her sister... and her father as her "uncle"...
she was trying to hide so bad that i was a ******...
a Russian girl?! dating a ****** boy?!
mein gott!                       it's only years later that
i'm drinking this fine wine of memory
in the form of ms. amber (whiskey)...

                   oh for more of these love complications
on grounds of ethnicity: race-baiting?
too ******* obvious: the Germanic peoples can play
that duty to the "universe"...
i like the subtle queues...

i can just imagine if this affair went west...
if i dated a proper: milchfräulein!
i'd be like: wild-eyed: did your grandpa secetectly
stash a SS-uniform in secret? can i see it?
can i wear it? wait... wait... i need to see the Turk
first... my barber... i can't put it on without
being properly trimmed...
does he? does he?
                                           ah ha ha...

i think schwarz suits me...
although i much prefer
grün und braun shades of clothes...
                           nothing jeans related... suits me...

it became one of those relationships that's best
not have had... best remembered like
the heat-wave of 2022...
i... ******* cycled through the village of Wellington...
i know the area... it's local... well...
as a cyclist it's local... thereabouts to Rainham...
there's this land-fill site near by...
there's the Cold-Harbour...
  when the Thames spreads her "legs" / tide...
i know the area... ******* grass fires?
  you're kidding me...
   i abhor climate sceptics like i abhor atheists...

do i look like a: ffff-ucking camel jockey?!
some influencer girl staging the pride of her buttocks
before some hotel in Dubai?
i hate people who adhere to the heat...
i know that when the mob comes after them
i'll be peddling...
              i'll be licking my wounds...
i'll be writing: sure... not having sweat from my brows:
but from my underarm pits...
at this point i abhore the arrogant-denial
of the sceptics...
                             because this is the workings of bad-faith...
and bad-faith begins with advocating
the adamancy of denial...
                  these ffff-ucking idiots need
another year... perhaps two...
before they change their minds about saying
things like: oh... media frenzy!
   this feels like just another summer!

really?
  really?!
              what happened to me today?
i woke up... in a 180° position to the one i fell asleep in...
i rotated... 180°... how? how does a body rotate
180° while asleep... lying next to a table...
sure... i took down a chair...
but... this is the UNCONSCIOUS speaking:
this is the COLLECCTIVE UNCONSCIOUS speaking
to individuals in their UNCONSCIOUS....
i ffff-ucking rotated 180° in my sleep!

that's not a ******* problem?!
fair enough... let idiots breed...
I DON'T CARE...
I'M NOT ALLOWED TO CARE...
I DON'T CARE...
DAARWINISM EXPOSED A MAN BADLY
DAMAGED BY ALLOWANCES OF AN ONTOLOGY
OF A PRE-HISTORY: AN ANTI-THESIS OF CONTINUITY
OF PRE-HISTORY: BY VARIATION OF SOME "MAGIC!"
SOME MAGIC MONKEY JUGGLING...

no! nein! neit! nie!

       come to "think" of it...
    Communism... the whole Pan-Slavic movement...
i'd like to "think" a little about the letters...
about... the crab-bucket... mentality of "losers"
of capitalism...
these... adherent wastes of time for people
that... want to work...
                  these people that should be readied
for an arbeit mach freit... scrutiny...
the excuses some people give them...
i've never been allowed excuses...
i was either good at my work or **** at it...
but some of these people have been given
too many excuses: based on their race:
get rid of them...
                 how does the verse work?
employ him because X...
well then... get rid of him based on Y...
lazy ******* best starve...
                        
    oh this cruel world... crueler Siberia...
i'm supposed to do the work of lazy Chimera's
of "man"?
                  
Спокойная ночь... bothers me...
esp. when reiterating in Latin...
      й = J = Y...
                  hmm... чь: ć
                               what's чъ?!
      but that's already arrived at!
                                  чъ = č ...

night?                      нoц! noc! night!

                    what's the ******* deal with
the Cyrillic trinity of ь ъ & ы?

                                         "soft": acute?
"hard": caron?
                         but a "soft" is already incorporated
within the noun concerning NIGHT...
at the same time it's not necessary...
that's why for a ******...
Russian is under-formed...

   нoц... contra ночь...
           because? the latter implies:
  when heard: never to be unheard:
   noć...
                      no... not noć...
not ******* nocz / noč...
                      нoц: noc! nacht!

***: *******: BAJA... bajka!
                     you confusing idiots... Chinese separatists
of Beijing...
ъ, ы, ь, ю, я, y living in make-shift *****-lands...

gorąc...
                  gorąц...
                                    na mej głowie...
to tło... szumu... i idiotyzmu...
      this: this entire world is coming to the smallest
portion of the world for: "debriefing":
about being the the antagonist...

  **** it... i'm siding with the Russians...
i don't care...
                      i don't care because i don't care...
i'm siding with the Russians...
at least they have some existential sanity
left in them...
                it's very much unlike siding with
**** Germany most associated with
the Croats...
this is... a civiliation-state scenario...
this is Darwinism in its advent of foreplay...
i'm curating foreplay...
people are so blind... as individuals...

do i look like wanting to **** black women?
ergo... all the poly-racial ****... is... what?
something i might want to keep... or... burn?
i could never appreciate the idiocy of some people...
but? i'm currently having to adapt....
because... people have beccome better than their own
predictions.

There must be a grimy, non-theatrically saucy way to gratify, for 55 minutes, a woman sexually like Béla Lugosi did when he was alive working as a working worker bee in a working worker bee bee hive
Bill Clinton's trucking dad died because Billy Rockefeller was born
so that Arkansas bath houses hosting *** *** antics could film ****
Somehow my **** lard **** ain't getting no thinner on a 7-day daily
diet of ham hocks, pork rinds & chocolate-syrup sundaes for dinner
on the 7 steps to Zoubek's Memorial to the Victims of Communism
I shall show love for chewing chewy carrots with vegetarianism, or
I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism
for forgetful amnesiacs who can not recall unrecalled amnesia at all

There must be a grimy, non-theatrically saucy way to gratify, for 55
minutes, a woman sexually like Béla Lugosi did when he was alive
working as a working worker bee in a working worker bee bee hive
Bill Clinton's trucking dad died because Billy Rockefeller was born
so that Arkansas bath houses hosting *** *** antics could film ****
Somehow my **** lard **** ain't getting no thinner on a 7-day daily
diet of ham hocks, pork rinds & chocolate-syrup sundaes for dinner
on the 7 steps to Zoubek's Memorial to the Victims of Communism
I shall show love for chewing chewy carrots with vegetarianism, or
I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism
for forgetful amnesiacs who can not recall unrecalled amnesia at all

Tanka like
we the classless
seek no revolution, only fairness
we like quality
a well- balanced diet
And cold German pilsner.
The stinking rich,
one assume they do not have bath often,
can continue to pong
we seek no egalitarianism
but cold German lager

how do i know what i think
if i dont write it down

i cant stop talking crazy
                                                    
bad ideas are rooted in Neuro Pathogens
idea parasites'

**** worms of irrationality

i'm a mess underneath the surface causing me to suffer a mental complex which is under digested unarticulated expression

the universal dialogue of misunderstanding

post modernism is an idea pathology
                                            
okay, mental constructs and language dont transform reality                      

reason remains lost through the sneaky ****** language of white science intellectual terrorism

watch out what you say in a free society

epistemologies are numerological evidence,
a numerical network from a broad base of data
and are a work of cumulative evidence

i cant stop thinking about the way i think        
      
you need gesticular fortitude to free yourself from the tribe

i'm afraid to tell anyone how i really feel  

so many victims of politically correct grotesques
are collective Munchausen pathos

i'm my own victim but it's fault                                                    your
                                                                ­                          
in the Oppression Olympics of radical egalitarianism i'm a star

i'm so agreeable i hate me, thats why i'm better than you                            

Fascism is a
fanatical need for order, and or else

mass graves and chimpanzee politics

when your frustrated, its your obligation as a citizen to transform your feelings into an articulated argument

i hate you

militant lesbians attack male virtue while they dress like guys
                                                      
i'm sorry about the testosterone, bad ****!

we extract the logos from chaos
and hold it above into habitable order and an ideal

i have my Porsche, where's yours and no i'm not looking at
your ****, your ****, your ****                        

my truth is grounded in your frustration

altruism, is, *not,
   superimposable -
   with a reliance
on egalitarianism;
why?
the self is not managed
by systematisation,
hence
  the "self" inquiry,
alternatively known
as the: "jewish question";
hence this answer,
should it be held:
                         untrue,
counter question...
    no man can be bound
to fathom mere mind or soul...
there must be a third:
   the logic of the possession
of a shadow...
   hence? σκιαλογια -
and why?
if psychology can breed
a pathology, a psychopathy -
a pathos of possessing a psyche,
and thus tribunal people
  into "thinking" that
psychopaths to be without
a conscience, or a belief
in a soul?
     how can the psychopath deny,
the existence of a shadow,
the cold, in kantian terms,
i.e. a σκιαλογια?
  how can the shadow
be denied, if the body
  caste, the:
                apparent?
at this point,
  there's no worthwhile inquiry
into an artist's self-portrait.
- and since there's no obviousness
in possessing a "non-existent"
element of **** totalis (ergo sigma):
  in a quasi-vampiric spirit
akin to a missing mirror
reflection:
     do i actually possess a
shadow?
         perhaps i do to my eyes'
contentment,
    but do i think that i do
via knowing think it to be not so,
when in fact i do not think
that i do via not knowing
   think it to be so?
        close proximity questions
are *******,
synonymous proximity
of question is worse than
synonymous proximity of nouns...
nouns, given rhetoric,
are the more distinguishable.
  but one thing is certain:
man is in as much a possession
of a soul, as he is certain to be
in a possession of a shadow.
  - which is why psychology -
its inner-working of disproving
a non-existent guide which
provides a freed "will", lodged in
a "free" willingness...
    at least one is certain:
  the existence of the shadow can be
doubted, and further denied,
but at least the existence
of the shadow: cannot.
  it doesn't require my belief in
a soul coordinate with a god:
  i am in the adamant rudeness of
circumstance to consider, counter
the soul with a shadow,
   and a god: with the sun,
and i base my logistics on that;
hence my refutation of the study
of the mechanisation of man,
via a "non-existent" object,
i.e. psyche...
         the logic of the non-existence of
said object is too cultish for my
liking to accept in the society
of secular values; *******.

Abbreviation for
Christchurch.

Could be called
Challah, but the
Mosquevites are
not welcome due
to New Zealanders
preferential name,
which is GodsZone
and no variation of
of Jesus is welcome.

So much for the society
of egalitarianism they
allude to with conviction!

If a canine ran on to the
the pitch and bit Giorgio
or indeed Luis Suarez,
the dog would be put down.


I am an animal rights campaigner
and this now brings to light, the
discrimination between stray dogs
and football players.

PETA and FIFA should insist on
egalitarianism for man's best friend.

I demand that either Luis Suarez
is given a lethal injection, a stake
through the heart or that from now
on, all offending dogs be judged
by the same criteria as FIFA.

working as a working worker bee in a working worker bee bee hive
Bill Clinton's trucking dad died because Billy Rockefeller was born
so that Arkansas bath houses hosting *** *** antics could film ****
Somehow my **** lard **** ain't getting no thinner on a 7-day daily
diet of ham hocks, pork rinds & chocolate-syrup sundaes for dinner
on the 7 steps to Zoubek's Memorial to the Victims of Communism
I shall show love for chewing chewy carrots with vegetarianism, or
I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism
for forgetful amnesiacs who can not recall unrecalled amnesia at all

There must be a grimy, non-theatrically saucy way to gratify, for 55
minutes, a woman sexually like Béla Lugosi did when he was alive
working as a working worker bee in a working worker bee bee hive
Bill Clinton's trucking dad died because Billy Rockefeller was born
so that Arkansas bath houses hosting *** *** antics could film ****
Somehow my **** lard **** ain't getting no thinner on a 7-day daily
diet of ham hocks, pork rinds & chocolate-syrup sundaes for dinner
on the 7 steps to Zoubek's Memorial to the Victims of Communism
I shall show love for chewing chewy carrots with vegetarianism, or
I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism
for forgetful amnesiacs who can not recall unrecalled amnesia at all

Cancel culture

They are coming our way barefoot, and red dust
we sink into apathy.
Churches made into dance halls and brothels.
Christianity is dead, our culture based on our faith
has been debased it, is called egalitarianism.
Banners and sword.
Heads roll down a hill into a blazing valley.
God has forsaken us.

There must be a grimy, non-theatrically saucy way to gratify, for 55
minutes, a woman sexually like Béla Lugosi did when he was alive
working as a working worker bee in a working worker bee bee hive
Bill Clinton's trucking dad died because Billy Rockefeller was born
so that Arkansas bath houses hosting *** *** antics could film ****
Somehow my **** lard **** ain't getting no thinner on a 7-day daily
diet of ham hocks, pork rinds & chocolate-syrup sundaes for dinner
on the 7 steps to Zoubek's Memorial to the Victims of Communism
I shall show love for chewing chewy carrots with vegetarianism, or
I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism
for forgetful amnesiacs who can not recall unrecalled amnesia at all

Is Tanka a poem

We the classless
seek no revolution only fairness
we like quality
a well-balanced diet
and cold German lager.
The stinking rich
one assumes they do not bath
can continue to pong
we seek no egalitarianism
only German lager.

The progress of humanity toward egalitarianism over millennia is best characterized not as "slow motion," but as virtually "no motion."

Copyright 2020 Tod Howard Hawks

I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism.

I'll choose a chewy Cuban ****** chaos for chewin' chewy carrots
with Castro's 1959 call for a cruel & cruddy Marxian vegetarianism
that'd be Cuba's revolutionary means to spoil Haitian egalitarianism.