Why do we feel so compelled
to stratify ourselves above the natural World?

What it is that justifies
our Cult of Humanity?

Do we seriously believe
that our gradient of experience
is so much wider and more rich
than are those of dogs, or cats,
or fish, or bats, or lice, or ants,
or spiders, or birds, or trees, or flowers?

Wherefrom do we think
the notions of faeries, nymphs, sprites, and our Gods arose,
if not for the Natural world
as well as the traits of our psychology
made anthropomorphic?

Who are we
to suppose such things
just because we are us:
be this not the same sort of exclusionary cultism
whence are born sexism and racism
and ethnocentrism?

Anthropocentrism?

Who are we to belittle
any one thing on this God-given plane of Reality?

Are we really that caught up in ourselves
that we forget whence we've come?

All is but Energy
All merely is.
We are a part of that,
as it is a part of us.

All
is a holistic system
not a stratified hierarchy of experience:
that concept is artificial.

Is it so hard for us to see?
Is it so difficult for us to be humble about this?
Is it such a blow to our such delicate psyches
that we cannot concede such universal harmony?

Or is it that it is beneficial for some
for the many to remain deaf and blind
to this wonderful, liberating truth?

I think we all know the answer,
we just forget to look for it
and if we find it,
we become too distracted to embody it.

I know we're better than that.
I know we know better.

Do you?

Take me to your *******
@cisgenderwhitemale
in salmon shorts sport polo
boat shoes and expensive cologne—

I, emissary of the InterPlanetary
Order of Eugenically-Minded Denizens (IPOEMD),
have come to rid the world
of this contagion—

who for too long has
beguiled us with their
wicked fashion sense
and appalling profile pictures

appearing on friends’ dad’s yachts
smiling behind a pair of Ray-Bans
with a glass of champagne
drunk underage.

Your valedictorian address
bored me,
your sexist racist homophobic xenophobic (etc. etc.)
inside jokes to your friends
on the lacrosse team
sickened me—

I’ve had to listen to you
brag about your ***** size
since puberty and your discovery
of Spike TV—

I watch you mock Black English
in tweets and hashtags
from locker rooms where
the talk can range from
racial slurs to ****-shaming spurs

(talk never to ****
upon its potential revelation
in a political campaign)—

I film your weddings
where you dance all night
in your Aryan enclave
to top 40 songs
screaming “This is my jam!!!”

I scroll through your #familyvaca2k17 posts,
the immaculate hotels and poolside views
concealing the succeeding flophouses crumbling adobes
and dog-ridden streets of dirt and infinite trash—

I see you engrave in bold
ALL LIVES MATTER
BLUE LIVES MATTER
AMERICAN LIVES MATTER
on every writable surface—

and as a meninist,
lament about the harrowing trials
as a victim of reverse racism.

[The white man’s burden
is to carry the weight
of their inability
to be anything
other than
incorrigible.]

I have come to rid the world of you
once and for all:

Taking the Gideon’s bible
from every hotel
and replacing it with
feminist literature,

burning down every
Banana Republic and
coinciding shopping mall,

cutting the brakes
to every Mercedes, Lexus,
and BMW with a
“Salt Life” sticker
on the back window—

You wear your ethnocentrism
like the sleeves of the cardigan
wrapped around your neck
swaying in the air conditioned wind
like a little cape—

[Behold, Cis-Man!

Whose superpowers include:

Getting away with ****
and perpetuating **** culture,

Minimal jail sentences (if at all),

Guaranteed college entry,

Speeding ticket immunity,

and impeccable draft dodgings.]—

I solemnly swear,
I make a pledge
to never procreate
if it will perpetuate
this vile sect of humankind—

I take a vow of celibacy,
I spill my ***** into the dirt—
not one egg will be fertilized,
not one will be conceived

to the soundtrack of Coldplay,
or Kid Rock, or whatever hair metal ballad
conceived you in the first place—

You are a logical phallicy.

You want to talk about eugenics,
you want to stop
breeding all the “retards
spittin’ on your kids”
at the amusement park—

Pledge chastity with me:
Interbreed,
undilute the strain—

and together,
we can end
the White Man’s True Burden:
Existence.






(p.s.
And it is with great irony
that I write this as one of you—
the Judas to your
Megachurch TV Caucasian Christ—

I write it because
if it were by one of
whom you’ve held
under your [jackboots to boat shoes]
since time immemorial—
they’d never stand
to read it—

for even mutiny
among these ranks
has its own
privileges.)

The chemical dust of rain shot its soul onto the stop sign, which blew sideways from the opposite facing caravans of new thought, "The Thoughtless Carol." Caroling into the night to Ebeneezer who rejected the cold Florida moon echoing over its waters, shooting fireworks into the rainbow cured sour sky which was busy writing its suicide note, being fed up of the proses it didn't deserve. "Life is overrated." It said as it met its maker who replied, "I know what you mean..." There was a hurricane, or at least a harsh wind that scattered the hanging tree ashes around and we drove and gladly crunched over a youngly corpse and hit every deer and "dear life," which decided to look for loved and lost on the highway, "The Lost Highway." Yes I believe Hank hit the mark with that one. And the waves shook me and I awoke to a dream or maybe life and reality, if those words could ever truly be defined. The American flag whipped its tail and dipped its fresh ideas into negative pH leveled acid, corroding its stripes and bleeding the stars into a thirsty, scraggly ground which gladly ate the bits of ethnocentrism, stopping the grass from growing. Why? Because I had only twenty-some letters to choose from and these are the only words that should or could be made. The only words that ever deserved to be written. And I'm pretty sure this page is going to hang itself, because this is like the most boring poem ever and I'm a boring poet:
"A Poem's Suicide!"
"The Slit-Wrist Prose!"
"The Toaster-Bath Ode!"
"The Overdosed Elegy!"
"The Free-From-Life Free-Verse!!!!"

an earlier draft of this barely satisfactory missive ex post facto, i chomped asper with upper dentures upon evincing a couple of typographical errors, in up rye or draft, and did not wanna dodge being a spell bound stickler for typing words correctly.

though no obligation to trot out this fixation sans zero misspelling tolerance, a compulsion with any concomitant obsession found me reposting before a repast of dessert - so there Ghost of Marie Antoinette, wherever you might be hiding - i can have my cake and eat it too!

Minus trimmings and over stuffed ego freezers,
but altruism, civility, Dharma *** ethnocentrism,
gratuitous homogeneous internationalism,
karma mosaic opportunism, quitessential righteousness,
unpretentious vivacious wide world yipping,

brouhaha dutifully emphasizing friendliness,
antithetically booing critical, popularly pugnacious
spoiled trump petting uber western yikyak,
zealous antipathy craving everything.
---------------------------------------------------------
a hypothetical, mental, rhetorical thought question
   occurred to me just moments ago
sans, milk of human kindness bubbles frothily
   upon major American holiday,

   whereat figurative bro
   thar and sisters exhibit philanthropic ambitions
   especially, towards indigent that crow
for bare necessities

   other than
   when Thanksgiving rolls around, and dough
nuts to dollars even most frugal misanthropes
   play feigned charitable card egoistically glow
with ambient benevolence, civility,
   diligent energy, and friendly hello

and sundry pleasant greetings
   hook hood be some
   soon tubby rich entrepreneurial stranger
   ready to make shares available vis a vis  IPO

   to dirt poor anonymous guarillas G.I. Jane or G.I. Joe
   who cross paths with each other,
   even those one doth not know
when ordinary biases, callousness,

   denigration...doth full low
out the mouths of hoity toity MainLiners
   towards working class people - mow
awe less trying to remain financially afloat,
   and with plea for handout
   would receive an emphatic NO!

Thee exception to unspoken aristocratic rule
   arising on feted buzz
   feed ding occasions where oboe
players invoke cobra to deliver riches galore to the 'po

whom sincerely show gratitutde,
   yet wonder why status quo
reserves select calendrical dates for handouts
   proffered after standing in a row
of similarly bereft individuals aware at stark

   outpouring overt nurture minded, humanity
   (with perchance a guest appearance by Sean Hannity),
this public denouement,
   an atypical venue for his television show

where generosity spills forth
   from said personality and others alike
blithely, demonstrably, fortuitously, happily,
   jubilantly, lovingly, modestly, poignantly,
   where an announcer speaks thru a mike

to open their doors and hearts asper,
   those down and out
   pushing belongings along the pea king pike
of broken tureens with
   only a mangy dog as companionship,

and though I admit tubby hyperbolical,
   hypocritical, hypothetical hypoteneuse of hippopotamus
   no charity less valuable then self and spouse,
   whom both experience spike
in anxiety since net income purportedly
   below the poverty level, though we reside

   within subsidized housing (outliers
   here at 2 Highland Manor Drive),
   yet random acts of an effortless smile,
   cordial greeting to passersby, or
   waving fellow drivers right of way,
Page Number Three:

such minimally polite services today,
the most within my limited monetary hi say
means, which behavior aye strive ray
   dee to maintain zero cost politesse, which doth pay
highest dividends, which reciprocal acknowledge may
be the greatest reward,

   whether or not a response elicited tis quite o kay
the satisfaction arising breeching comfort zone
   viz exposure therapy lighting up gray
matter analogous to a cerebral Christmas tree
   and any regret avoided, asper congenial efforts    
   generate “hi” kickstarts my day.

environmentalism/nauturism/animism, latitudinarianism, cancerism, corporatism/corporativism, bureaucratism, governmentalism, devilism/satanism/diabolism/demonism, nudism, feudalism/serfism, universalism, conceptualism, defeatism, filibusterism, groupism, globalism, collectivism, centralism, communalism, internationalism, mercantilism/Americanism, utopianism, Illuminism, Fabianism, totalitarianism, mobbism/gangsterism, militaryism/militarism/ warlordism, imperialism, liberalism, statism/ stateism, fascism, authoritarianism, hucksterism, botulism, priapism, polydactylism, Mormonism, evolutionism/Darwinism/Lamarckism, dereism, ******/Naziism, Marxism, Bolshevism, Owenism, maturism, czarism/tsarism, eugenism, tokenism, albinism, pauperism, subversivism, battarism, Caesarism, Hitlerism, Rooseveltism, Leninism, Slavophilism/Slavism, Sovietism, Stalinism, Trotskyism, Titoism, Malthusianism/Neo-Malthusianism, mysticism, monarchism, regicidism, sciolism, socialism, Maoism, communism, absolutism, poplarism, Cahenlyism, Pollyannaism/Pollyannism, pedestrianism, homosexualism/lesbianism/sapphism, voyeurism, cultism/occultism, sectionalism, unicism, cronyism, mentalism, elitism, Hegelism/Hegelianism, fatalism, humanism/humanitarianism/existentialism, popeism, transvestism, Occamism/Ockhamism/nominalism, nihilism, neoterism, nephalism, Negroism, Neptunism, scientism, euphemerism, minimalism, alarmism, favoritism, rheumatism, infantilism, miserabilism, hoydenism, physicism, toadyism, rowdyism, aristocratism, loyalism, rightism/leftism, Mongolism, sadism/ masochism, plebeianism/plebianism, polyphalangism, simplism, quixotism, recidivism, selfism, alcoholism, synorchism/synorchidism, esoterism/esotericism, revisionism, hedonism, plagiarism, sophism, Indianism, Parkinsonism, timonism/Aristotelianism, barbarism, mercurialism, deism, narcissism, fetishism/fetichism, hypocorticalism, mitralism, bossism, ethnocentrism, multiculturalism, hierarchism, polygenism, mutacism/mytacism, narcotism/narcoticism, hermaphrodism/hermaphroditism, hylopathism, hyperadrenalism, catadicrotism, entorganism, invalidism, vampirism, ergotism, prostatism, hepatism & nepotism.

A question most people couldn't answer
Not even the great minds
Something is not alright, we know
But how do we fix it?
None asked this
Not because we are okay with the standards
We're living to suit the tradition of the old
With much contempt to change
Custodians spell, "This is how we do it"
Or die challenging the status quo

What is missing in our religion?
Each side believes the other side is
Made up of creepy people with ungodly doctrines
But teach the same moral value
Believing wrong is evil and right is godly
Apparently, culture sets apart our conscience
If there indeed is one God
Then it ought to follow that
He would define the proper manner
In which to worship Him
And reveal that way to man
Yet these religions differ vastly
Is there one true faith?
If not, then based on the assumption
Of all three of these religions
That there exists one supreme God over all
Has that God destined mankind to a life of confusion
Over the very basic questions about His nature
His religion and the reason He created man?
These are fundamental questions
With which countless generations of thinkers
Philosophers, religionists and educationalists
Have wrestled for 6,000 years of documented human history
In doctrine and in practice.

What is missing in politics?
World in which the helpless suffer
And the remorseless roam free
Fed up with the political discourse
Exacerbated by the current presidential cycle
Debates take place in a derisive manner
That is designed to tear down the other side
What kind of ethics is this?
Little thieves are hanged
For the great thieves to escape
Label it any way that you want
But many of them that lives deserves death
And many that died deserves life

What is missing in our traditional system?
Feeling empty and alone in a society that lacks a common basis
That touches our feelings and heart
Upholding to old culture blindly
Creating an enmity in the human race
Discouraging inter ethnic marriage
You took away what I treasured
Replacing it with timeless void
For how long can we accommodate this insanity
Of ethnocentrism bullying our sense of joy?

As many who ask this question
As many who believes something is missing
We have a responsibility
A charge to keep we have
It all depends on us
To look for the missing parts
To complete the puzzle

The nation has been anticipating
The arrival of a generation which will change
The way things are understood
And done in the country
The better of course
It's true humanity is more appealing than humans
As Koffi Selorm rightly said
Just because we wear a garment without a HEM
Let's solve this puzzle with the missing parts
Honesty, Empathy and Morality

#ElikemInspires
#PoeticKoncept

Equality yet not equal
But as above, so below
The path to riches and extreme poverty
Teach us oh Abufihamat
Thy fingers represent hermeticusm
The force to fight against racism
ethnocentrism
xynophobism
As above, so below
Up to the white moon of Chased, down to the black moon of Geburah.
Where work separate and unite opposing force in a perfect equilibrium.
I see a male and female figure, so we fight for gender equality.
The magic light of universal balance.
As above, so below
To a new world order we say,
open sesame

what a difference a shift can make:
i come in and out of positions:
sometimes i'm outside on the bag cordons
my favorite spot is
Charlie Cordon 6 for the concerts
last Wednesday i was just there
having a fabulous time

but today my sign in was 3 hours later
i came 20 minutes early
upon exiting Wembley Park Station
a flash of lightning my god's smile
my father's and my son's and daughter's
and i was sort of weirded out
by a missed call from mother
and Lyndon: my agency manager
for the shift...
which came later much later
but i put my phone of aeroplane mode
so only switched back reception
on the train:

jeez! misread the Elizabeth timetable
after 23:48 there is no Shenfield
to Paddington (no bear either,
Lizzie with the marmalade toast: untoasted)
that smile of lightning
and a THUNDERCLAP like the gurgling
of a goat killed proper Halal bruv...
or the hunger in the stomach
of a monster and a child...

i whispered in my mind: one name: though...
Thor:
the mood didn't suit the almighty
Arab and later Bangladeshi or Hebrew
later St. Paul and the German Protestant...

the difference between:
working in a team...
four Englishmen one ******...
the Pollack being their supervisor:
playing all James Bond
my ext number at university
dorms was 007:
            but it felt very edgy:
i was white (still am)
and i was supervising four Englishmen:
as a Pollack that must sound
weird coming to someone like
Rishi Sunak the vegetarian prime minister
it must be weird
sounds almost unnatural
but that was one shift prior: i got it:
break-up stab in the back
going all crazy with the pheromones:
and silent moans
and kiddy candy of the eyes
on the borderline with 17
no sweet 16 no let's not go that far
but imagine my fright:
wolf pack:
who?
wolf pack wolf pack...
one ginger one german in disguise
bartablondine with a crop full of hair
and enough beard
because there was a migration of hair
not from the head
but from the beard
toward the Chest of a Hairy Pirate
the stomach no six max Greek sculptures
hairy like a bear's...

fair enough so many lovely ladies
but i sometimes smoke too much
and not microdose like after today
and i get all transparently transcendental
and sometimes paranoid
but like today i micro-dose
and drink enough to keep me away
and i told myself:
you began tripping again
when you smoked half a proper joint
and drank whiskey without Pepsi:
those carbonated drinks:
no sugar...
no good: especially when mixed with alcohol
best to keep alcohol pure
and steering away from beer and wine
but if wine
then white wine and that's on special occassion
mixing it with marijuana
but best mixing a little whiskey: pure:
best Welsh...        PENDERYN...

     Welsh is the whiskey for me:
not Irish or Scotch:
discounted by over £10 quid at Asda...
from well over £30
to £23... 70cl...
    
             i just feel sorry for myself for not cramming
the entire day in but i can't
be James Joyce and account for the constiption
of but one day
and no one really manages to think so much
in one day
i certainly don't: so i look pocket and of pinpoint
days
and accounts of the hours of that day:
for a day i account for hours
and their smaller minions
when it comes to years
i account for days:
and their larger minions of weeks and months...

i was smarter today
because i was working with a young Bangladeshi
******: openly ******:
a Nigerian: aristocracy: by the sound of it:
and face:
the black girls of former slave owners
must have called
and said their mixed race counterparts
were nothing but **** boys...
and white girls' slaves...

a perfect journey home:
finalized by catching the 00:35 last 103
to Chase Cross home...
and i finished shift at 11pm and coming
down from level 5 at Wembley
is just as hard as exiting from Turnstile G
where staff sign in and sign out
and there were stories
i heard about someone walking in with proper
planning and accreditation
**** like that
just plain old bonkers:

               and Zain the introvert:
i didn't know whether he was the Bangladeshi's
rage whether Indian or not
so i allowed the whole:
and i thought only white people were
racist but
this is racism like Germans were ethnocentric
but not racist:
like the "racism" of the Germans and the Russians
who tried to dictate to the Pollacks
ethnocentrism: a white within white...
but look at me having to be
driven by an English ethnocentrism
that's placed face to face with competing
with the world
having invited the world over after having
traveled the god's blue and settled for
smash my garden up my garden my *******
garden
i love how only one empire imploded
but then exploded back into the fore
of the commonwealth:
and that's not Poland-Lithuania had:
didn't go ahead to charge an Empire
but instead settled on the Commonwealth:
and maybe there's a 3rd stage
while all the immigration fiasco settles
and England, Scotland, Wales: maybe:
certainly Ireland
settle for the Commonwealth of themselves
and from the radio on the news
i heard the vast and drastic and incoherent
term:
DEVOLVED NATIONS...
devolved...
i actually need to look that word up...

           no! no devolved governments!
equal representation of the tongues
or rather the reignited of the Scotch Gaelic!
pretty come please come
speak to me:
like that one black girl i thought was
oh so pretty with St Matthew going all the way
to Ethiopia looking for love...
not rubbing:
but comfortably touching my belly
closing my eyes closing hers
and i tingled at the thought:
but there's a loved woman in your life
and you love her so:
and i want to find that sort of love for me
and i want to find that same sort of love
for me...

to think: this day has not yet been
as perfectly executed to memory imprinted
with self-evident lettering to
my standard of digestion of dream:
before a digestion happens:
there must be a conjuring... of them...
i never understood people who have
recurrent dreams:
unlucky maybe sunshine maybe moon-too:

I'M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL
I'M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL
I'M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL...

i was there: pretending to be a bowl steward
like my origins in this industry:
i just remember that i managed
to sneak in one SIA without licensing
and when the Quality Assurance Officer
came up to me and
i addressed her as a Quality Assurance... blah
blah:
there was quick-chess going on
in the realm of ants and hierarchy
and i did mention
to my fox hunt: wolf pack vs. fox hunt...
because foxes don't hunt
so a fox hunt is... 5 foxes...
    being hunted... coming together:
to figure out an escape plan...

   adoptive Darwinism: fox hunting is a *****
sport...
i just delved into the FOX HUNT
vs. the WOLF PACK

   5 foxes: being hunted: started to huddle:
figure out us: we have glamour: and ice...
entice:
what we'll do we'll speak smoothly
smoothing and smiling...

           i'll do the talking: you do the muscle
pretend in between:
jeez one text i didn't want this one guy
to have a bad experience of gigging
i ended up taking the most vulnerable
down the elevator through to the side of
turnstile G...

          i feel like a rock star
                 i feel like a rock star...
i feel like a rock star:
because i have the world and its troubles
like the dirt from unwashed hands
and overgrown fingernails
and a smooch in my head from: her-hier...

but as a team we remained tight
no other response team from level 5 managed
to walk out through any turnstile
we were the owners
i felt English too and i didn't give a ****
i swear turnstile A was solid
without a queue
gone in 10 minutes
and the girls were flirted with
that i couldn't with a Bangladeshi or a Nigerian
but this was ACDC
and this was more politics
than teenage crush dream...

       candy crush saga of lady labyrinth
of Jane Austen:
that... exfoliation of language of class:
in Bridgeton and elsewhere
oh baby but
i'm somewhere in between
that class of tongue
and thesaurus and peacocking
and just talking ***** and reality
of the Cart and Horses in STR (greater anglia
acronym, station name).

I feel that the needs of the needful aren't being minified by environmentalism/nauturism/animism, latitudinarianism, cancerism, corporatism/corporativism, bureaucratism, governmentalism, devilism/satanism/diabolism/demonism, nudism, feudalism/serfism, universalism, conceptualism, defeatism, filibusterism, groupism, globalism, collectivism, centralism, communalism, internationalism, mercantilism/Americanism, utopianism, Illuminism, Fabianism, totalitarianism, mobbism/gangsterism, militaryism/militarism/ warlordism, imperialism, liberalism, statism/ stateism, fascism, authoritarianism, hucksterism, botulism, priapism, polydactylism, Mormonism, evolutionism/Darwinism/Lamarckism, dereism, ******/Naziism, Marxism, Bolshevism, Owenism, maturism, czarism/tsarism, eugenism, tokenism, albinism, pauperism, subversivism, battarism, Caesarism, Hitlerism, Rooseveltism, Leninism, Slavophilism/Slavism, Sovietism, Stalinism, Trotskyism, Titoism, Malthusianism/Neo-Malthusianism, mysticism, monarchism, regicidism, sciolism, socialism, Maoism, communism, absolutism, poplarism, Cahenlyism, Pollyannaism/Pollyannism, pedestrianism, homosexualism/lesbianism/sapphism, voyeurism, cultism/occultism, sectionalism, unicism, cronyism, mentalism, elitism, Hegelism/Hegelianism, fatalism, humanism/humanitarianism/existentialism, popeism, transvestism, Occamism/Ockhamism/nominalism, nihilism, neoterism, nephalism, Negroism, Neptunism, scientism, euphemerism, minimalism, alarmism, favoritism, rheumatism, infantilism, miserabilism, hoydenism, physicism, toadyism, rowdyism, aristocratism, loyalism, rightism/leftism, Mongolism, sadism/ masochism, plebeianism/plebianism, polyphalangism, simplism, quixotism, recidivism, selfism, alcoholism, synorchism/synorchidism, esoterism/esotericism, revisionism, hedonism, plagiarism, sophism, Indianism, Parkinsonism, timonism/Aristotelianism, barbarism, mercurialism, deism, narcissism, fetishism/fetichism, hypocorticalism, mitralism, bossism, ethnocentrism, multiculturalism, hierarchism, polygenism, mutacism/mytacism, narcotism/narcoticism, hermaphrodism/hermaphroditism, hylopathism, hyperadrenalism, catadicrotism, entorganism, invalidism, vampirism, ergotism, prostatism, hepatism & nepotism.

a demonic silence and calm preserves this place
i call home:
today i was recovering from working
at the AC/DC gig at Wembley: henchman man:
wager man... wagey...
such pivotal hierarchies in the high viz
community outside of the construction industry:
human chess
it would seem: is the end result
of this working dynamic...

                   i'd call it my dream period but it's
more or less my nostalgic impromptu
retrospection thinking of myself writing in my mid-20s
but i really can't see:
in the classical period music was innovative:
it inspired philosophers such as Nietzsche
but these days i can't say: much about music...
it became an art form relegated to the piles
of dung of Beelzebub's ****** archiving of important
matters:
a total messy ******* he is...

            coughed up whiskey into my nose
which was a sobering experience
like a Pakistani girl
telling out in full claustrophobic no personal
space antic of taking a lift
imploring me to stand in front of her
imploring me to smell my skin and my ***
and my love to block out
someone else's bad personal hygiene...
and then i said: well: like nicotine
like caffeine: a whiff of ammonia: a chemical salt
or acid
          someone's poor personal hygiene can
become a stimulant: especially if you add to that
the torrential rain:

but my dry period?
i was young and not boring enough:
so i'd pick up a book and take out a snippet
and work with that:
i suppose i could rehash that youthful distress
by picking up
Ulysses - i don't remember any of it:






                                                      / /

nothing: nothing comes to mind...
         so when music used to be innovative in the infancy
now hardly irrelevant
but AC/DC are not an innovative band
if say: Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin were...
or god forbid someone take up the Q of Pink "barber" Floyd
because that's not Nirvana relevant?

i guess music of the 20th century
might require someone listening to classical and reflecting:

weird antics for the closure of a day
and it's impeding reopening after a nap
circa 8pm through to 12am
in the day made perfect timing to
send off a Taylor Swift t-shirt:
medium... almost a large:
regardless: she wanted to have it scented with me
so i rubbed the early stink from lying
in bed first...
then walked around in it...
then took a shower:
didn't use deodorant (but squeezed some in
when i finished packing the package
to get the plastic smell out...
the air around the item)
i rubbed myself cleaner than mirror versus
the glass
in i guess: if i can remember:
was a honeycomb and macadamia nuts
soap...
          then i washed my hair with Argan oil
infusion...
and beard too: ah: maybe the shampoo was
the macadamia nuts infusion
and the soap was just the honeycomb infusion...

but no deodorant on the body:
just into the back...

friendship bands
and me playing with my mother's makeup drawer
while writing her a letter
some little nothing something perhaps sweet
and to think i'm suited to a Christian girl
and i'm supposedly this Catholic
which is supposedly a novelty in America
like J.F.K was a novel Catholic
in the land of Protests and hyper-inflated individualism
that's so fake it beggars-belief...

Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose
thoughts you're chewing. Then who'd wash up
all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on
tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.

J. J. Ulysses page 217 reprinted Penguin classic 2000

as i said: innovative: music once was
no longer so and
it's a shame that those who wrote music are
more alive than some people
who are alive and haven't been gifted with
much: but as in that Dead Can Dance song
about great men:
Solomon, Caesar, Socrates... and there is a third:
how fortunate the man with none...
how fortunate that no one should remember

but even then what's that to life: expected...
if anything: a kind surprise to an otherwise unwarranted
***** of the hope...
some higher demand the everyday expectation
to the materialistic grit (spoken like a true
teenager)...
but just so: my riches are in books and in music
records:
at least one painting of my own:
a sitter in Grey
by Candlelight...
a sword from the forest i called my Cossack
SHASHKA...
              
           just a breaking of a night within night
to tip over the scales of time from day x
to day y
                      by nocturnal musings:
    having signed the Last Will of my parents
i am now the inheritor de facto
of this house and garden:
it's almost comical when
Joe stood before me at cordon 6
wearing a Quadrant Supervisor bib and
almost gesticulating at:
well: why haven't you been promoted?
well: who gives a ****
it's a wash-a-hand-hand-washing-hand
not nepotism but quasi-nepotism
of the family breakdown and making new friends
in the playground
so children are growing up my lord
but the elementary
and the pedagogy remains the same:
perhaps if with children you can pretend
to be an adult with responsibilities
when when in psychiatry you pretend to be a god
because that's not me saying:
Prometheus my Guide:
but at least you have to pretend to be a god
since god is so abstract
and that's what people required other people to
become: in just the verb and noun orientation
of this delicate ballet...
not by any stretch of imagining grandiosity
not in any way profound
there's the nearing of the bad grammar god
and his fetish is pronouns
and being a Dyslexic his favorite demonic ****
is at the pulpit of a pseudo-Protestant
i.e. Protestantism against itself:
dying off without a Catholic antagonist since that
path deviated and found root
in the life now enjoyed by the Spanish, French,
Italians, Pollacks...

                         i could mention the Irish but is there
a point of mentioning the Irish as Catholics
and not simply as the Irish:
the sublime masochists... which the Pollacks can't be
but what's horrible about us is
a Catholic Work Ethos that we don't share
with anyone: beside the Irish: in that span of rubric:

Spanish
French
Italians
Porto-Geese (easier, i'm not going to spell it correctly)...

ah... jeez: what a Chopin's nocturnes sort of
night:
it's blessedly raining outside and it feels like
the proper July:
did i forget to mention that there's a lesson
in geography to be had, right about now?

it bothered me: the English mentality
concerning Eastern Europe:
Poland is Central Europe with Germany
you ******* PLEB...
deafness and more deafness: no intellectual music
no conversation:
just innocent bystanders: collateral ditto virus...
geography bothered me in the lexicon:
is that common speech of man? hmm:
gonna get myself a Jane Austen tattoo...
not on my skin: but on the silk
bothered by the wind
itching inside my mind like no other caged ego
to thought or being:
just ego-nothing
beside what is already available
with i-think and i'm-not: i-am...

                           familialism: something
borrowed from Anti-Oedipus: i don't understand
the French intellect so well:
please can i gravitate towards German High Intellect
with some dabbing in Scandinavian:
everyday-ism?

   the French have a freakish morbid intellect
bent on destruction and painting with language:
i don't want to paint when i write...
i want to abstract: find solutions:
complications:
impasses...
              facts: i don't want to find bad grammar
and a chemistry lab
of boorish wordings overtly hyphenated into
compounds like di-hydroxy-carbonate blah blah...

who is the real psychotic?
i have no knowledge of a Spanish intellect...
Italian maybe with Machiavelli but
that's irrelevant:
Giuseppe Belli:     (o.k. **** me, shoot me
my youth was greatly invoked to age beyond
my peers because of Dante: *******
and yeah yeah ******* twice
because i had Horace and Ovid in my life)

inzomma, da la predica de jjeri,
ggira che tt'ariggira, in concrusione
venissimo a ccapi cche sso mmisteri...

      just look how Latin devolved...
to sign language and spitting
and eyes darting and foundations
like Rome and the Italians is an observational
view point of a mountain range
some weirdly anthropological
no people discovered or conquered
so aboriginal blah
i mean: just looking at the language
that's Italian: that used to be Latin:
it's a bit like looking at the Polynesians
originally from Taiwan:
perhaps they didn't gain height
rowing all that time no sight of horses
but they bulked up
and i can see something Oriental about
them with the exception of their tailoring
to a darker color of skin: complexion...

bad Latin to come:

in brevi, et ex sermon nos accepit
summa summarum,
                          idiom: say how it is... to:
            obtusis-lingua-acuere:
blunt tongue sharpening...
               videtur: mysterium est mysterium...

perhaps that's the non-authoritative
variation on Latin:
certainly not Italian: or what happened
when Germanic blood of the Lombard
achieved the fold to the Razor and Papacy:
the Pope a Drowning Man...

that lesson in geography:
well... whenever listening to a meteorological
dial-up
with a person in the luminary of a quasi-fire
that's the t.v. screen:
believe me in 100 years what will
the t.v. beside a fireplace
a radio and then what will internet access be

i'm listening to my favorite nocturne:
i've currently digested:
47 minutes:

nocturne in B♭minor op 9 no 1
     "         "   " minor op 9 no 2
and the list goes on and on
but i'm too lazy to type each song out...
but it would look pretty:
i gather there's that aesthetic concern
and if i wanted to spend years
on art
i'd become a grave sculptor...
not some celebrated Rodin bound
to the museum:
CENTAUR and the Urmahlullu...

in some there's this tease toward anticipating
Wagner's Das Reihngold: the entry
of the gods into Valhalla:

         like we all know the play on Les Mars

♯C
#****

       ah! subliminal! HELMHOLTZ! HELMHOLTZ!
just like
Les Marseillas... apparently a right wing
revival, non?
but instead a Fringe Red seeking majority?
i did say: Serenity Red:
not simply - but the left was becoming
constipated communicative-ly: all lively...

number: first: 1812:
ah yes: Tchaikovsky and the Polish Plumbers
Orchestra...
some Dostojnie: Igrzyska:
  
               geography!
England is part of Scandinavia!
England: Scotland:
Ireland:
this is not Western Europe!
this is Scandinavian Territory!
if Poland is Eastern Europe:
collectively...
blah Ukraine blah Czechia
blah Lithuania and not Russia
blah Romania
and blah some more maybe even Greek
and Turkish:
forget Serbia Croat

but England is Scandinavia:
it's not WESTERN EUROPE:
what is western Europe but an Atlantis
figment of the imagination
if Germany is Central Europe
and Poland too
have to look at the planet from sunrise
have to rotate the planet into
vertigo mode horizontal....
not some meteorological Chinese script
the westerners read weather
at X Greenwich
and Y equator: Kenya:
Z? the winds and casual tornadoes?

  England is Scandinavia
in temperament and feels:
                   it's not Western Europe:
there never was: beside
as the bad apple export to America...
Scandi to the north
while the also northern bunch
finding recliners and cheaper weather:
the Goths via the Spaniards
and the Berbers
toward Argentina...

               then again to a waltz:
still a nocturne waltz...

                       but that piece with
the reverbretating insinuation of the piano
working as a bass guitar...
not the waltz no 7 in c (sharp) minor
op 64,2

                absolved from the hierarchy of cultures:
that Germany transliterated
away from a superiority complex
of ethnocentrism of white via white versus:
such heightened exploration dynamic:
peace to mind: a piece of:
the langui: a **** in boots and a freakish:
i don't event want to remember
dreams...

         if no longer ethnocentric then cocktails
in Berlin with a hyper-inflation
of race mixing like
it couldn't be a sand story:
this new Dune
not a desert
but a "jungle" of Concrete:
this Nedu:
        planet of sand without wind
this concrete grey
this fudge packing:
this also glass and mirror and mannequin...
this planet we live on
i give a name:

           Nedu.
        formerly called Earth:
              Nē̆dû has spoken and spoke at its
crux of nadir: thus.