apparently we have to go, bypass the easiest crowd of the capital, the easiest crowd of the capital, the ****-pants girlies waiting for a fake ****** in idol worship... artist like wine bottle... bootleg us... they’re bootlegging us i tell you... we can only be considered when the young suddenly disappear with depressive suicides and the grey tide of mechanics of the conveyor belt of antics of the supposed ease - never mind the thrill of hunting the mammoth... first came the form of the four legged animal (cat, dog, lion), then came the square... after that... to exasperate us came capital H... or k... x... offshoots i say... allowances of photosynthesis nodding into the light... but first came the four legged animal... then the square... then the lettering to abbreviate the once wild animal now staged in domestication.... but still we’ll have to ferment like wine... to ask a bridal ****** to occupy a whitewashed house we can return to on the vector finitude of that claimant word home; so what are feminists waiting for? the chinese stole our jobs... we’re eager and waiting house bound males... like your grandmothers used to be being housewives... eh! came feminism a playground of fairness... come on! i’m not going to juggle torsos for entertainment of the decapitated head talking about flapping flippers / wings in frankenstein’s pose before the stampede of revenge. what’s that? ***** got wet and no one wanted to photograph a sell for the **** industry? it’s almost like the child slavery act of exploiting children by regina victoria. ooh ooh give me the gay gene so i can expect robinson crusoe rubbing a palm tree so fast as to turn it into fire up my ****... i might just **** a smoke signal big enough to be rescued from this corset tightening for “respectable speech therapy” coming from the asylum of the parliament of yank-a-doodle-do-nothing... but take a cabbie for a bus-driver in irish... ye gaz’d a per mill lon up the shore n ditched d per, eh, in via bear? shire rickety rickety cricket and the irish bigfoot known as an ‘obbit! god... where have the stereotypes gone to? switzerland?! my murky luck... yodel yodel yodeley michael jackson yo the who he hoo!

'So It Begins...'

once upon a time
there was a girl
who always ran around in circles
figuratively, of course
not literally, because if she was literally always running in circles, she'd pretty soon be dead
but that's neither here nor there. back to the girl
she had no idea that she did this
but everyone around and about
was painfully aware of her issues
she was convinced that she was always coming up with new and exciting ideas
when really she just spent all her time recycling her own idiocy
and she became increasingly irate as all the things that she kept around
even though she would never admit that she intentionally kept them around
started to seem wrong
or used
or just completely foreign
until a magic prince
with a magic want
who totally dug the fact that this chick was entirely self obsessed and weird
and pretty much certifiable
snuck in the middle of the night
and robbed the ***** blind
however
because the guy took all her worthless
pointless
and in the end
meaningless baggage away with him
she replaced her former obsessions with stalking him
and he became her magic want
which he severely regretted soon enough
because with her circular habits
her stalking efforts were not unlike being relentlessly pursued
by a small
angry
but not entirely unaffectionate
chihuahua
he fully intended for her to stalk him from the beginning
but unfortunately
as he had been raised in a pseudo-feministic
yet highly romanticized society
he was under the false impression that once this chick started pursuing him
she would give in to her basest wants
and deep seated but repressed desires
that every girl has but doesn't admit
to ending up with a magic prince
he was wrong
there
was
no
fairytale
and once she caught up with him
the relationship that ensued
became a vicious cycle of marriage, divorce, and remarriage
because he had been ****** in
to her circularity.
the end

Tu me ves como una mujer muy fuerte (you see me as a strong woman
Estoy feliz y fuerte y feminista (i am happy, strong and feministic
Mi ****** es mi major amiga (my ****** is my best friend
Juntos somos activistas (together we are activists

Mi pelo esta corto y tengo confianza (my hair is short and i have confidence
Te aparecio como una esposa, hija, hermana, amiga. (i appear to you as a wife, a daughter, sister, friend
No me pinto. (i don't wear makeup
Mi cuerpo es bonito y no me interesa que otras piensan. (my body is beautiful and i don't care what others think

No necesito hombres en mi vida. (i don't need men in my life
No se amo mi novio (i don't love my boyfriend
Ni mi padre(nor my father
Me abandono.(he abandoned me

quiero a mi mama (i want my mother
Mi hermana(my sister
Mis amigas (my friends
Y mi vida. (and my life

Pero, en la noche (but, at night
Cuando estoy solo (when i am alone
Mi espejo transforma en un monstruo. (my mirror turns into a monster
Mi pelo es largo asi que puedo esconderme detras. (my hair is long so that i can hide behind it

Pienso que no puedo estar solo (i don't think i can be alone
Estoy triste sobre mi padre, (i am sad about my father.
Me abandono. (he abandoned me
Me odio. (i hate myself

Mi cuerpo es mi enemigo. (my body is my enemy
Solo quiero dormir y comer (i just want to eat and sleep
Mi vida significa nada (my life means nothing
Mi cara es diferente (my face is different

Cada dia (*every day

I want a letter written to me,
Starting with Dear and ending with my utmost affection,
I wanna be brought up during those days where guys tried,
Like not afraid to get denied,
Lets pretend the internet isn't alive,
I wanna dance ballroom style, and let a man take the lead,
I want him to pretty much just protect me,
I'm trashing all this feministic ****,
Lets go back to those days when girls were respected and taken care of,
Rewind and replay the parts of Pride and Prejudice,
Or I wanna be Scarlett O'hara battling it out with Rhett,
I want a man who won't be so afraid,
Sure my face is pretty and whatnot, but why don't you say it to me?
Like grow a pair,
Grab me,
Make a move,
Don't be so **** afraid to hug me,
Please,
All I'm asking,
And I want to be dressed to the nines with ball gowns that go down to my ankles, and my hair all curled like Maria Antoinette,
Ok so maybe I've lost my mine,
But I sure wanna ride a carriage at twilight,
And have candles light the night,
Silly of me I suppose,
But still I cannot help but want those ancient times,
When men had to act right

the number of ghosts engaged with *** toys...
you almost forget to wonder about the whole
debacle (clearly it's not a debate) - queen Sheba
was right when she said to king Solomon:
the world will be governed by a yellow race:
(coppery, garnished with choc, alter rusty)
no exceptions to the Japanese having the physiognomy
of something resembling all things Germanic...
   porcelain white, excuses for the blonde -
             then the unearthed and then earthed brown
that's represented by all Asiatic hues;
they dropped the atom bomb and we're worried
someone else will drop another? what about those people
who do military deals selling pistols and bullets
and machine-guns; aren't they on the priority list
of concerns? atom bombs don't sell much warfare,
they don't, you drop a nuke you forget there
was a war in the first place, it's called the simplified
variety of the end...
           if it weren't for the ethos of
the kamikaze, there wouldn't have been
a hiroshima & a nagasaki...
         there would just have been a hiroshima...
proud ******* told the whole lot of nagasaki
citizens: our fate is your fate, listen to the credo!
                  first time lucky... boom! x-ray flash!
i've got the opposite of bone on that brickwall...
              i have noon shadow: perfectly captured
like a replica of a Fabergé egg to represent
a chicken! but Dylan could have sung -
    preference to the x-ray and the sedimentation of
bone into the archeological... nope... a-ray stood out,
    apparently detailing shadows was the way forward.
      but i don't blame them...
there's no reason to blame someone that
manages to fill your childhood slack
on imagining things that aren't really there
with Godzilla vs. Ghidorah (ghee: dorris, slash: door'ah)...
still, the western civi faces fresh allegations
of feministic chuckles and the ghosts of
*** toys... cos any **** would be an adequate
fleshy piston for the gyroid stanza of
  being agreeably equivalent to milking a cow...
that really bites the biscuit,
a Greek might have all the theological answers
but he's still sidelined because he hasn't figured out
an parabolic entry into a ****** using
        a straightened Floppy: for that necessary
arousal being satiated... come to think of
it: god would be better pleased with an argument
than a woman pleased with an orgsam
that might lead to the lost argument for god...
it's not enough that a tornado doesn't make it easier,
they apparently "do" too;
most of the jokes come as no surprise:
   mine's still alive.
                              it's still ghosts in *** toys...
           you got to look at ******* as a quasi-
Attenborough moment of curiosity,
      does it get me wired for a marriage? not really...
does it bewilder me thoroughly? of course it does...
          ghosts in *** toys...
                          could this turn into something
quintessentially dictatorial? probably...
          there's no point thinking you're right
if you don't allow the other person to speak out...
  and on that note... dialectics is interested in only
two people having a debate...
              not necessarily an argument...
debates only exist between two opposites of a required
conceit to be levelled and a plateau to be trodden...
   dialectics is never an en masse concern for vitality,
dialectics is not theatre,
       but as it stands, dialectics is misunderstood as
a theatrical attempt to achieve a congenial
narrative where everywhere is informed (consensus
omni)...
              clearly Socrates is Socrates (misanthropic)
and Shakespeare is Shakespeare (artsy fartsy):
the former needs a stranger and a park bench...
the latter needs a stage and a theatre and commotion;
thinking the two will unite is already a prerequisite
of dictatorial rule...
                                   additionally?
you can't learn dialectics from the direct source that
discloses the existence of such a medium...
not Plato... and i'm not saying that i know it:
but i'm saying that no slogan chanted in a march
   will create a less embittered narrative than
my own mind might already provide.
ghosts in *** toys, boney *****,
       **** tricksy risque (or if it would be worthwhile
to be born with the pleasurable **** experience gene);
              which amounts to one billion Chinese
doing it right...
       i wish i was born into a family of seven siblings...
then at least i might have, what is known as:
        a western acquisition of a satiable sense of humour;
the "hey man!" sort of attitude that states that all
operatic endeavours have to be relegated to a tone
above the castrato: namely chipmunk.

it all makes sense after a beer and a whiskey, honestly, as honest as is this statement, i'm only a misogynist with regards to white girls, who i find so, so adequate for feministic fickleness that they could never produce 1 billion blue indians or 1 billion chinese.

i tell you how it started, i was at university,
first year i met this french psychology exchange
student, she was older than me,
she got drunk at one party and crawled into my bed,
when i climbed and felt frisky,
she just told me to put a ****** on,
prior to she was stiff watching some cartoon
by studio ghibli, man i was young and frisky
about loose the white of virginity and enter
the blackness of personal psychologies
passing via the rainbow of the visible world,
it didn't work out with isabel, we climbed
arthur's seat and took a picture
while she scolded me for napoleon
and the duchy of warsaw as the re-emergence
of poland but missed marquis de sade's picture
hanging on the wall... who's sick then,
the one who pleases the many or the one who
displeases a few?
plato's picture also hanged on the wall...
she was oblivious to the fact that an 8 year old
child can be categorised as a native speaker,
because that's when i started my anglo oral examination
to speak it.
later i spotted her after my first session with a bottle
of whiskey in lycra, going to the initiation ceremony
for the lacrosse team... i never joined... i just puked
into a bucket.
you never realise that when people label themselves:
i'm an atheist... i'm a christian... i'm a muslim...
i'm agnostic... you see the labels... you see how
they rememeber of themselves in terms of nanometres?
they kept their memory very cancerous...
the proto-socratic maxim in modern times
stands as: remember yourself, knowing nothing
is worth the existence of an encyclopedia -
feel and make the facts absentee...
just remember yourself as some point in your life
to re- re- repeat yourself so i can known you
as i can know myself, just so we can interact
like in a school playground... if you don't...
forget it... stay with your ***** **** stiches of a partner
and tell me whether your children got an a at a-level.
so he told me about her eagerness for *** with
strangers... she was apparently abducted...
so he told me he ****** her... believing him...
not getting enough... i went to a brothel in my second year,
and i didn't really understand the emotions of
someone who's ~******* outside a brothel,
well she really did let that one rip among one of the
major proofs of solispsism: someone farted in a crowded
space and appreciated by himself alone,
all the perfume companies who even hired
the best chemists could produce the scent of solipsism,
therefore the proof of solipsism: we appreciate our own
but loath the ****-burp of others; hey, i just took
all the theories of existentialism into hades via ****.
but that's the thing - back when darwinism was
active, active enough to build pyramids, motto active:
strength multiplied by ****... back then...
chaos known as god entered and said this that
and the other... we can now say democracy is safe...
demo tapes everywhere, half complete scripts...
but the limit of democracy comes when
you start to disagree with yourself... that's the limit...
obviously a high proportion of people
succumbed to the democratic weakness
and started to disagree with themselves or
the ontological starting point and ventured into
ethical questions to give birth to conscience...
first year was magical, second year had a highlight
where me and this guy played golf on the street
with glasses, smashing them next to a graveyard...
about a dozen jewish couples got married
when we took over stomping the glass with golf sticks...
so it's like this, make memory as selective as nature is,
as bizarre as the colour of magpies and parrots...
plus... you wouldn't get existentialism
if you changed the cartesian expression that
thought precipitates into existence...
sarte's explanation that existence comes prior to essence
is true, he stresses the essence: i think,
but existence doesn't really precipitate into thought,
because then we're all analogue: god doesn't exist
because of such and such parasite...
this world is beautiful but harsh, but with harshness
comes adventure and with beauty laziness...
what's crucial is to curb the precipitation of thought
into existence... unless you innovate and materialise
a telescope or paracetamol... for the majority of us
the one thing guiding us is not res cogitans,
but res vanus... not the thinking thing, but the empty thing,
and the empty thing is primarily filled
with the first linear association, thought, and later
being - which is why most of us think about being millionaires
but never are... and therefore create the lottery,
then we put our thinking into to being millionaires
as a mere chance, luck... which is really emotionally debilitating.
i agree... an unjust world of freedom with a just god
who's whimsical existence has freedom like ours...
rather than a just world of slavery with an unjust
god who plays us like puppets;
go on, complain... but that's hardly a logic i wish i could
understand like 1 + 1.

♠ ♠ ♠

Pseudo-Oriental visions
Haiku, Tanka, exotic terms
Vapid New Age vibe-transmissions
proliferating eastern germs…

Anarchistic thought collages
Existential lacerations
Nihilistic heart-massages
Incoherent lamentations,

Communism on a mission,
grievance-mongering, stewed in hate;
pounding Fascist fusion/fission
chanting harshly “ours the state”,

Hymns to Gods who choked on *****
undertaken in overdose;
rocks that never rose to comet
rolling – but ending comatose,

Hipster ironies, tongue in chic
Metro-wimps who feign the normal,
Redneck rantings up the creek
semaphoric,  semi-formal,

matron’s maudlin observations,
motivational hypnosis,
(sentimental medications
offered prior to diagnosis),

coldly abstract neo-nonsense
read (by dullards) as cutting edge,
letters void of correspondence;
well-trimmed words’ linguistic hedge.

Climate whining (tried untrue)
with eco-prophecies warning doom,
Wiccans and tree-sprites trying to
undo the curse and lift the gloom,

Feministic tribal ranting,
Race-complaining, agitation,
GLBT gallivanting –
all are blights upon our nation.

Boring modernist excess,
(no longer daring  –  formulaic)
confounds –  yet never can address
what’s wrong, and so becomes prosaic.

Lists like this are perhaps  the worst;
another symptom of our times:
we who are woefully unversed
in rhythmic complaining that rhymes.

i hope that modern realise that with their so-called liberation
of: once upon a time taking care of children
cooking: the best form of chemistry...
165°F for a perfectly cooked chicken breast...
that's the temperature the meat should be add...
as i was talking to Harini about her bad experiences
with dry: chalk-like chicken *******...
i had them too... Sunday lunch back in my grandparents'
house always resulted with people fighting for
the dark meat of the chicken...
the thighs, the wings, the legs...
my bad experiences with chicken ended when i started
cooking chicken...
every, single, time: juicy *******...
i managed to start cooking chicken to the sort of perfection
where people started fighting over the chicken-*******
and forgot about the dark meat...
but the internet is filled with these crazy videos...
angry women... angry men...
everyone's angry but no one's angry enough
to pick up a gun and start shooting into the air...
2nd or 3rd wave feminism...
angry men who don't know that they have been liberated...
these relationship crazed men...
bothered: 80% of women only date 20% of men...
"date"...
         i'm watching both sides.... like-for-like...
when i'm in the mood and decide to go to the brothel...
i have this failsafe ontology regarding my
"whittle 'ichard itch-'ard"...
well... i would be the natural reply to how women
have monetized their bodies on ONLYFANS
and the like...
            i was going to be the natural byproduct:
nature abhors vacuums...
and oddly enough has to work on a thesaurus basis:
the antonym of an ONLYFANS girl is... ?
me...
                  oh to hell with relationships...
i don't appreciate crazed-shy doe either...
                  i watched one on the bus opening a bottle
of 7up... it was warm... very warm...
lazily: the bottle burst... hmm... how that fizzy wet liquid
glued itself to her skin and she became
more radiant with the addition of sugar diamonds      
from the liquid...
       it is a very warm summer...
seems the girls need to expose more...
i too would love to...

on the liberation front... single mums still need
plumbers... blah blah...
i hate this ***-"war" offensive on either side:
of course men and women never got on:
but not getting on happened after the initial
honeymoon period...
at least back in the day the sexes got on enough
to shackle up and have children:
problems between the sexes happened
a posteriori...
                         now? problems between the sexes
are a priori...
they are being ingrained in us...

i was so close to breaking my build up for an hour's
worth of *** just 30 minutes ago...
about 5 times during the day...
get the blood pumping...
mind you: i did drink some semi-skimmed milk
and had to do the runner:
i don't know... full-fat milk, no problem...
semi-skimmed... ****-problems...
Jasmine Black... she's Romanian... and on the plump
side of the spectrum...
and no pictures of ***** either...
either her solo or with another woman...
i checked myself last time: when Michaela was
available: a Jasmine Black lookalike...
yeah: like i'm a Brad Pitt lookalike...
   but i kept having to get an ego-*******:
to cure myself from *******...
yes... you're having ***...
           yes... she's moaning and groaning during
oral ***... blah blah... you're replying:
there's the mirror...
hanging ******* on your torso...
then both torsos meet...

                 hell: you read enough Marquis de Sade
in your teens... you start to gear up to a better
picture... i found out that i like writing about ***...
not in a self-help sort of way...
a self-improvement sort of way...
16th... Wembley... **** it... i'm visiting the brothel
again... 18th... London Stadium... late finish...
i'm going again...

that's why i'm working: i'm working to give
the economy a boost... i'm not going to spend
the money i spend on prostitutes:
mind you... what exploitation?
all these women enjoy ***...
one asks you to pay her extra for *** without
a ******... some other doesn't even bother
and does it for the thrill:
she even says: live dangerously...

i can't complain... i'm also... somewhat liberated...
esp. if at one point you're the one stealing kisses
while at times you're the adult seagull
and she's the seagull chick and she impressively
jumps in to steal a kiss from you...
you relax: have a drink... smoke a cigarette...
and then the bodies collapse in a wriggling composition...

i like thinking about ***... i feel a different sort
of gravity in my groin... it's a whirlwind sort
of gravity... spinning spinning eternal spinning:
coupled with VADER covering MAYHEM's
song: freezing moon...
better than the original...

i like writing about ***... i like escaping into it...
i like the trial of jerking off four days prior
to ******* without *******...
which implies: on the day: i will be ultra virile...
and i'm still very happy that i haven't
bedded a woman from England: my acquired
nation... or a woman from Poland:
a nation i was born out of...
i think i'll stick to Romanian and Turkish girls...

well... if the women feel liberated? so do i!
but nothing via dating apps: no hook-up culture
for me... i bring the money and place it on the table...
just so... no one gets confused or has
double-standards or: whatever...
let's not play: prize-pretend...
i can do whatever the hell was once expected
from a woman... please... beside rearing children:
darling... there's no... need...
truly... relax... do you!
                   i'm still going to have my fun...
in an unabashed version of myself...
because? i stand watching movies...
i prefer to avoid restaurants...
i like eating on my own:
i like drinking on my own...

we all must be crazy by now...
oh: that recent Psychology Today article that the women
are raving about, how "lonely men"
require therapy?
i've been through that...
isn't therapy lovely?
they prescribe you some anti-psychotic pills...
you put on about 30kg...
then wait about 10 years to get your libido back...
start exercising again: waking up from this
pharmacological slumber... i must have been
some version of a competition:
to be treated like: at least the Islamic terrorists are
still treated decently: seriously: as a threat...

i am on a stretch of road where now i'm
thinking of the people afraid of the acronym FOMO:
fear of missing out with a glee...
who needs a girlfriend when i have my shadow
to wrestle with: a shadow that said:
you will not dream...
i can go to concerts and football matches:
let alone for free: but get paid for them!
i'm going to bask in this moonlight...
i've seen my own worth of **** to finally find myself!

but i still don't understand the dynamic
between the sexes...
   and i don't want to...
dating apps my ***... i will never use them...
i'm not lonely: i'm just alone...
loneliness is a trait of character:
being alone is an existential "qualm"...
     of qua per se... as being for itself...
which is a... ******* mighty juggling act to accomplish...

but if i have nothing on my mind...
it's usually that i have an irritable bowel from drinking
semi-skimmed milk or having an ego
for a phallus and a perpetuated *******
in mind: or that i'm gearing up for an hour in
the brothel... with some plump beauty...
i wouldn't dare to discriminate against
any woman's body:
like my grandfather used to say:

all women are beautiful...
it's just that some... some are just neglected...
they're not ugly: they're just neglected...
very true: those richer curves are best
exposed and intervened with when they're touching
another body... they sort of fill the "gaps"...
i love plump women... they sort of behave like
water... well... water + flour = dough...
skinny younglings remind me
of spiders... i like these plump beauties...
they sort of absorb your body in ways unimaginable...
they fuse with your body...

read enough Marquis de Sade and then have
your fun writing about ***...

for a while i started to realise that the women i'm
working with have started a ploy:
figuring out whether i'm thirsty:
sexually awkward... hmm hmm x1 x2, x3...
no lapse into desperation: why would i feel desperate?
i can get what i want...
i don't steal bread: i buy bread...
i don't steal *** via the hook-up dating-app culture...
i buy ***... of course: i bypassed the Darwinistic
puritanism of "you're expected to follow the natural
selection laws of women":

erm... no, you're not... prostitution predates Darwinism...
*** can be bought and sold...
there's no reason to be sober like at the zenith
of American puritanism with the laws of prohibition...
likewise so: now...
i don't need to pretend that women have a sway
on the availability of ***...
after all... i'm not a ****... women sway over women
whatever argument is left in their arsenal...
women will not agree...
what man would want to **** an intellectual
woman who's only prowess is banking on
feminism? men have their intellectual disparities:
but you can hardly ascribe feminism
to feministic-stoicism... or feministic-scholasticism...
or blah blah...
i like ******* women who like to be ******...
who don't complain about being ******
for the simple reason that they like to
be ****** and they'd rather listed to Liszt play
the ******* piano than play a piano themselves!

the world is so uncomplicated when you listen
to the wind and then recognise the fact that:
the wind can't play a trombone...
a wind can play the tree: rustling the leaves...
a wind can play the grass...
sure as ****: a saxophone can't play a tree...

i can imitate barking at a dog... i can imitate croaking
at a crow...
but a dog will hardly bypass its bark
and call me a YACK!
nor a crow croak that i'm a crackling crisp...

i mentioned plump prostitutes...
that's different: to what you see every-day:
those magnificently grotesque:
beached... whales...
it's different... a plump ******* is a plump
******* because: many men find her
attractive...
but... that "mommy" of a beached-whale type?
why don't men find her attractive?
because one man does... or rather:
one man has allowed her to become so unattractive
that she's no more than a fat-***-*****
pushing a baby-buggy...

prostitutes prolong their sexuality way longer
than atypical women...
a man will still find a fat 50+ ******* a decent
**** than a woman who has settled for
the glorified Christian tradition of marriage...
mind you: she's probably prone to cheat...
personally? i don't mind sharing partners:
what i abhor? the innocence of... lying...
is this the part where i say: some people think
they're being... "cute"... by lying?
cute, or cutlass?

i don't mind knowing: as long as i know...
there's nothing worse on a man's conscience than:
not knowing...
being lied to is infuriating...
it's intruding on the dignity of one's own claim
to believe: in anything...
whether that be a Hebrew deity that's deity eater
or whether it's the Arabic solipsistic deity...

i like writing about ***... the mirage of mirrors...
the antithesis of ******* in mirrors...
perhaps, once, upon, a, time...
i could have survived pair bonding with some
woman... these days...
it's enough that i have a mother,
a maternal grandmother and no knowledge
of my paternal grandmother...
perhaps it's better this way...
i think i'll take my *** into the garden
and find some shade until 10am...

i truly love women... but idealising the opposite ***
is hardly an answer to the perverted questions
at hand...
if women feel liberated because they don't
have to marry a class of men that are their
plumbers and their electricians:
women who raise boys whom their infantilize...
whom they turn into little-make-shift
Oedipus one after another...
me? stepping in?
i tried it once... she was all over the game
of me brining homemade wine and some banana
loaf: she couldn't handle a man...
she needed a boy... a thirsty boy...
she required her own offspring and a thirsty boy
of a "man"...

i don't need that... no wonder i prefer the company
of prostitutes... and cats... and dogs...
most of these women want both
the casual ***: and the casual *** with and without
commitment...
sorry... i can't do all three...
liberated women ought to know better...
ought to know best... QUEENS...
blah-ah-ha-ha!
i'm all for casual ***: but not a hook-up culture...
money first... fun... later...

              that's how the dynamic of money
and flesh works...
that's why i work the debit mechanisation more than
i work the credit mechanisation:
i spend what i earn i spend what i have
i don't spend what i can't earn
or spend what i don't have... i don't favour the credit
system: that's why i set up my second bank account
so quickly... what credit score?
when i don't use the credit system?!

i like prostitutes... they are a gateway toward
a monetary sanity...
no one wants to have *** after eating a meal...
ergo? dating is obsolete...
i have *** on an empty stomach...
emptied by a dry cider... 750ml walked
around... with some whiskey...
dating... ugh... i am: LIBERATED!
i don't have to fight for any country i'm supposedly
assigned to... i don't have to marry!
i can love the children of strangers like
they might be my own! i, am, freed!
from obligations of matrimony!

**** me... i'm freer than freedom could possibly
allow me to be!
women have paved a way to true freedom!
they think themselves freed...
but they didn't realise how freed up i've become!
i don't have to pay that infamous bachelors' tax
anymore! renowned in Poland...
i can **** prostitutes on a whim!
wow! this is freedom?! wow!
more, please! more!

           great bargaining tactic: woman!
i can do the Pontius Pilate on your *** and no one will
even begin blinking a counter-argument!
amazing... i'm glad both of us will
prosper from: your demands...
my lack of: demands...
                  now i can freely **** around without
having to listen to you having a monopoly of
me even thinking that i have a monopoly
to **** around! beau-ti-ful!
more! more! more!                     more!

thank you... it's as if i was dealt a hand in Poker
with a Poker... it's *******: glorifyingly:
poetically: majestic!
       i love it... more please...
                    
eh... 20 males to 1 woman...
doesn't bother me...
                they taste: sorry... female *****
taste better with more ****** partners...
nature: sort of weird...
oh sure: the more ****** partners a woman has?
the better her ****** juices taste...
her **** becomes equivalent to a leather chair...
like all leather: fresh... ****** leather?
smells disgusting... the more it's worn down?
the better the quality...
plus... the better her *** is...
*** with virgins is boring...
*** with virgins is intimidating for
normal men: there's always that... sense of...
authority from prior experience:
teaching... i don't understand why women
succumb to those pedohphile perverts to teach them
nothing at all...  

then again... what do i care?
it's like that article in the Saturday Times...
a woman in her 40s was left gloating:
but i have 3 loves in their 20s greedily..
hell: i can compete:
what's free? these days?"
i can compete... i earn money to spend on
prostitutes who will subsequently
invest money in this economy...

it's too hot... i think i need to sleep
in the garden under the blooming moon...
spiders and ants might crawl into my nostrils
into my mouth and into my ears...
no matter, i'll cool off...
             but i feel: i feel!

so liberated from modern woman!
i don't need her: i don't own her...
        thank you! modern woman!
       THANK YOU!
                         while your old school sisters
practice prostitution: i'm just: dandy: fine...
thank you!
      i believe in euthanasia
and the idea that i'm not going to be
your next petty grandpa...
                     the cruel realities of the REAL...
what?!

you know what two indicators of psychiatric diagnostic bases are?  whether or not you can keep eye-contact or chew your nails... frankly i  like the taste or keratin, it's like concentrated burnt skin, and that  eye-contact bit? i'm not here to ****** anyone, not keeping eye-contact  doesn't make me disengage from dialogue, it simply enhances it, after  all, i'm talking to your body, i don't have to peer into your soul.*

the hippocratic oath died with modern psychiatry,
it simply died, limp and almost lethargic
and riddled with leprosy (it’s peeling off me now, bit by bit),
the hippocratic oath died there and then,
the schism of the church from the state
enforced the secularisation of medicine
and medicine gave birth to its ******* offspring
known as psychiatry / logic of the non-existence
of the soul, better known as the missing
part of psychology...
the local g.p. analysis shows that i'm clearly
not biting my nails or have inefficient eye-contact
putting me on an autistic spectrum
with a feministic interpretation of aristotle,
but frankly i too could be a feminine candy
pusher for platonism in the **** sense of the word,
trying to convert a hetrosexual tyrant to keep
a few less digits of **** under my sleeve:
mythology - or the logic behind:
in a kingdom far far away... a long long time ago,
there's a logic to myth, meaning the timescale is
unimportant, but important with a debriefing
signalled by two words: it happened; but it's not
relatable these days.
it's a good thing english asylums closed their gates
at the beginning of the 20th century or mid-way,
english society subsequently changed into an asylum,
no fewer madmen among the mentally ill and those
in politics... the ratio is so equilibrate you wouldn't
even bet on a horse that ran a mile with the odds being
in its favour... me? *******? i'm fuming,
you want me to shoot blanks at whimsical prejudices
of a cancer patient because you were doing crosswords
looking at your genitelia and said: i'm a woman!
well, moist **** to you too... i'll make sure
the next pole that travels to england will get his money's
worth... watch me type like a chopin dynamo...
crescendo multo gratis!
that's the thing concerning the little red ribbon
wrapped around a box present in existentialism
it evolved from: phenomenology... it ignored kant...
it ignored the application of pluralism to kant's
concept of the thye noumenon...
subsequently it ignored rasputin (a.k.a. the superman)
on par with the great illiterate statues of history:
socrates, jesus, mohammad...
khadijah wrote the first of the surahs i bet...
she the litterate ***** must have known
he would decrease the volume of expression,
ending with a short surah like the heretical infestation
of malachi with the old testament.
*****! *****! give me *****! i want a snooker table too!
to the next of kin: don't come to england...
they're prone to the disease known as anglo-saxon / norman
lunacy... please don't come... or if you're coming
make it seasonal... and make it scarce -
bandit irish idiots just made a breakthough, quote un quote:
we multiply! no wonder the theory of relativity couples
people with confusion... newtonian logistics is missing,
the vector system is missing, cause and effect
is missing in relation to climate change - well **** happens,
our historical realism is not different from our
concensus... we all agreed... thanks to einstein there's
no cause & effect, because the compound space-time
vortex equates the two... we can sleep soundly tonight...
we've been saved by the geneva convention of albert camus'
absurdity... phenomena are universals because
of the attached number avaliable... noumenology
is scarce due to third arms and legs... a handful
is twelve disciples... in between the number of fingers
and toes... a handfull is between 10 and 20... that's a handful...
so if particulars deal with noumena... things unknown
or previously unknown or subsequently known because
of their david bowie oddity... then phenomena are concenred
with universal rhythms... i.e.... it can happen to an ant,
it can happen to a sparrow... it can happen to a human being...
it's the ideal economy of ideas just popping up whenever
you thing the singularity of god or the verb pronoun i is missing:
the noun pronoun, the thing that is freely ignoring things
due to their names and narrating geological abstractions?
yeah... that's still there.

i'm drunk, and brimming with emotions... it's not supposed to make sense... i've been listening to feministic poetry for the past hour... i can't make a coherent sentence even if i wanted to... a kettle is boiling in my head... oh and the love of women in relation to lies... ah... the child aspect, of the innocence of satan saying the first lie... that's who he is... those monsters that came later? he's scared of them more than he wished to have liked, to not have instigated, by telling his take on: the original sin. simply? a lie. oh such regerets in deforming his original guise.

    well, how very ******* amusing...
             now i have to clean up all this filth in my life...
   lying was the thesis for the theology behind the genesis story
of the, now, seemingly-less "original" transgression...
      *choke a monkey till it says the word donkey
    rather than have it say ooh ooh?!

- now the hard part -

fair enough, you subjectify me not objectifying you
in order to not get an *******...
     but when you objectify me not subjectifying you
in order to get a partner...
     you objectify me to subjecrtify you toward
                    my own objectification of a phallus...
blood flow.
so what would you rather me be?
                                  a feministic... limp ****...
come on... even moby is winking and telling a joke...
i'll just go to a bulgarian *******
                                        that might allow me,
to take out concept-**** and just make the **** thing
             *****, from what you otherwise demand
                   in "conversation":
of it being floating, in a pickle jar, and apparently floating
with something... that resembled my brain... hmm... sherlock!

so... we have: do not objectify women... as ****** partners...
   and we do not subjetify women... as partners in matrimony
and                equal in law...
so what the **** do we do?
    ah... **** it... let's allow another billion chinese to breed
themselves into the world;
   and if you're panicking... oh hush... don't worry...
    the darwinistic theory will survive, **** sapiens will survive...
he just won't be white, or have blonde hair.

Gonna carry out the feministic agenda
Gonna live, laugh and love lasagna
Gonna save the earth from the ocean
Gonna let the boys show some kinda emotion
Ravioli, yo, that pasta is tenda
Now what should I call ya, Genda benda?

title - you-yo-you-yo
body -
a *******
BLITZKIREG
of **** accusations...
a sort of a:
well done... another
year of this: prrrrrr-lease;
******* nonces.      502 bad gateway bypass

                      ******* retards...
no... just retards... munchkins...
RE-*******-TARDED!_

           no... the guillotine will not sing for them...
they're too ***** whipped... obedient little craft-merchants
of: no ******* craft...
you ask for a table to sit by... you just might...
get a ****** Picasso painting...
     i wouldn't trust these people when asking
them to... tie their ******* shoelaces...
        RETARDS... plain and simple;
i don't have any Robespierre quotes on me...
but if i did? my tongue would turn into fire!
and my eyes... would turn into cold nuggets of coal...
that would spontaneously catch fire!
i don't have the reflexive strength of arms to combat
these people... that will come later...
i'm laying out the groundwork of disgust...
    you need that dirt first...
          the mind must be impregnated with
the most abominable of surrogacies...
   before... the body reacts... it... takes time...
wait... i haven't given full closure for the French...
these people are... no longer satisfying to be welcome
in being allowed to live among us...
guillotine is perfectly: humane... it's not hanging...
trouble is... i'm thinking this through...
this is no longer some abstract theatrical language...
i'm actually thinking of implementing it...
if not me... then my successor...
not that i don't have the *****...
but because: certain obstacles will not be necessary
or available when the right time comes...
enough! is! enough!
i kept telling people: you spawned this monster...
this monster is not going to: somehow:
"somehow"... die..
    i'm too lean and bothered about the whole scenario...
i admired Robespierre too much...
assez est assez! oculus per oculus!
          das ist es!
                                      enough! nein! niet!
no! nie! but first you need the groundwork!
it's no longer about protecting "our women": these women
are not "our" own... they belong to themselves...
they belong to: refugees welcome...
****...
          they're the freedom they so instilled in themselves
that needs to be respected...
thank god for Turkish prostitutes:
they always tend to know when they're not
getting *****... lucky me...
no... no man's land...
the shifts of time... barricading the past
with an unknown future...
           how... endearing...
  i should conscript in the corpus of either the Janissary
or the Mamluks... for fun...
see Islam the ***-side-up... not being circumcised...
drinking...

for a while i thought i was truly sick from seeing Jeminah
again... not her facce... just her behind...
walking next to another man...
          my face was flushing... my eyes were burning...
my entire body was wrapped in cold-shivers...
but then reality kicked in... two 2 hours on the bicycle
really massaged my **** and intestines...
there was a stealth ****... hiding "somewhere"...
oh man... i feel so relaxed... that it's come out...
it's not love... it's something very biological...
my head is cleared... my face is still burning...
i'm still getting the remains of the cold sweats...
but down below? it's like some mighty strain has been
lifted... i never thought that being so clogged up
could fool you so much...
   an album like Boy Harsher's Careful... and the song:
face the fire... makes it all alright...
   eh... c'est la vie... c'est la vie...
   that's me not raising a foster child... that's me not
paying off her debt and gave her a bad credit score...
almost punched her: or punched her and
her son... i'm glad... it's hard to love the un-loveable...
i'm not perfect... but i'm not that...
   if i was a woman with a child i too could get
a council flat... i don't see how or why i'm this mega insult
to her dating preferences... but that's life...
the impossible is already and most certainly always true:
than how older generations treated the affair:
sure... we'll start poor... our parents might help us...
but we'll work it out... later on... pair-bond like silly swans
over all of life's difficulties...
now? someone has to have it... simply: ******* MADE...
that's so frustrating... no wants to live a life:
work on it... get at something...
people (ahem... women and male scammers)
just want to arrive on the GIVEN... the already MADE...
age disparity... obviously... unless he's some whizz kid
who profited from making an app that in turn
allowed him to profit from... say... the war in Ukraine...
that happens...
         oh thank god... i was starting to think she was
feeling these sensation and i was feeling them back...
thank god it was only a stealth **** that "forgot" to appear
in the day... not even stomach cramps...
flushes on the face, burning eyes... cold sweats all over
the torso... a strange headache... no... it's not love...
silly little you...
it's just a ****** situation: but if that's the way it's going
to be? then... why waste my time?
it's not like i lost weight to look good... better...
i much preferred being slightly invisible...
     too much drama... but the doctor said: you have a choice...
you either lose the excess weight... or...
we'll put you on high-blood-pressure tablets...
since it's a hereditary genetic fault via lineage...
well... what was i going to do? take the pills...
or ******* cycle my shrinking *** into the sunset?
obviously the latter...
      oh man... the first time i lost this much weight
it truly was a vanity project... but then... when you're 18+
you can become this lean long-haired Adonis
and come down to... about 76kg...
     my best so far? 96kg... but i put on more since... winter:
you store more... fatigue kicks in...
you eat more... drink less... blah blah...
plus.... 1=+ is not 35+ years old... it comes with the territory...
of... already having silver hairs on my chest...
my beard and my hair...
            but i'm not going to be repentant: i'm not going
to give some mea culpa: it's my fault...
i'm not a solipsist... in physics... what's that?
there's an equal and opposite reaction to an action...
in a nutshell...
other people do exist... there's what one can grasp as:
the environment...
you interact with it... sometimes you get promoted...
sometimes you get stalled...
    it's just a bit ****... quiet frankly...
         but like i already mentioned... there are... short-term
treatments that... if utilised properly... can extend
the healing value for almost indefinitely...
prostitutes... i see no shame...
  well... if it were SIMPING on the internet... throwing bucks
at digital "women" that don't even strip but sell
tap water... sorry... bath water...
hell... i wouldn't even spend money on strippers...
me want to touch... terrible English:
specifically: me don't want talk... me want touch...
i figured... you're going to be paying for "something" anyway...
the women are not writing books...
for a long time women didn't write books...
they kept their secrets... but now? stupidly enough
they are showcasing them... they're actually teaching men...
well... if there's that much honesty in the air...
when do we inflate those hot air ***** balloons?!
but i'm also somewhat manifesting a suspicion...
western: "intellectual" women: will never hear of a feministic
stoicism, or a feministic cynicism...
unless what? i drink a litre of pink magic juice?
but at least i'm not bothered... i'm not angry... sure...
a little bit frustrated... but frustration is a sort of friction...
you stop rubbing your hands together:
the heat generated is no more...
        at least i'm not the Jack the Ripper case... taking revenge
on prostitutes... it's inverted these days...
prostitutes are a godsend... if i were to be perfectly
honest... i don't women that fear me...
giving cash up-front i can bypass the fear...
and get to the nitty-gritty of a physical interaction...
intellectualism of any sort just went out of the window...
what would i talk about? movies? music?
books? or leftwing propaganda indoctrination?
past dating horrors... i don't feel like talking about
that sort of crap: i just want to ****...
         it always happens... you walk down the street
at night... a woman passes you...
she's all in jitters... nervous... it's like:
you seriously want me to be a killer, don't you?
   after Khedra sent me some of her selflie pictures...
i've been unable to ******* to ****... i sometimes uses it
to get a hard-on but then switch to watching her plush lips...
and that's that... it's weird...the ******...
i can smell her on me... is that because i *******
into her: unprotected?!
            hell... if life is going to be like it has been to me...
what am i going to do? sit back?
"relax"? get angry... no... i'll see the most peaceful outlets
to sooth my "frustrations"...
      i can't be angry with women...
but i also can't stand the spew of Darwinism that only focuses
on the dating game...
  it used to be so much fun...
then... the survival of the fittest stopped
mattering... other factors became invoked...
money... corrupts everything...
that object that dictates the transvaluation of values...
that's money... gold has value...
which fluctuates... because the value of money
fluctuates...
and if money is the res-per-se: the thing in itself
that has the inherent nature of fluctuation...
then... obviously... anything given / put under
a monetary standard is also going to fluctuate...
               along with the fluctuations of money...
            you can't really chance trans-valuate the existence
of stones... unless they're marble... etc.
what can't you trans-valuate? clouds?
can't invest in clouds... to stop the rains...
can't trans-value mountains: or the seas...
they're not going anywhere...
            but i can trans-valuate ***...
i can say: better me going for an hour of raw
**** sapiens funs... than...
coughing up too much for false dates and not getting
what i want... just eating too much...
and paying for two people...
i just did a trans-valuation...
trans-evaluation...
                  well... no one was killed... big +...
that plus is not big enough... but it's supposed to be a
BIG +...
  any hurt parties? do, i care?
right now... i don't care... no one cared prior...
i'm not going to start caring now...
i care that my frustration friction didn't make me ****
someone... i didn't steal anything...
lucky me... trickle of time: immemorial...
            it's good to sometimes: forget... almost... no...
not almost... absolutely EVERYTHING....
forget the idea that there might be a cinema.

i'm not always happy & there's not always a reason
i talk a lot & repeat myself because of my anxiety, i'm sorry if I annoy you
i don't love myself
i think i'm too tall
i have trouble looking people in the eyes
i pop my knuckles
music makes me happy
art brings me peace
i love kids & want to have many of my own, i'm sorry if that's a deal-breaker
i need my alone time due to being an introvert
if i know you well, i will open up to you
i can be wild & crazy
alcohol is my best friend  
cigarettes are apart of me
i enjoy the night sky
adventure calls my name
i live young, wild, & free
i'm insecure
i love to laugh
i embrace my freckles & stretch marks
i believe women are downgraded, i'm not sorry if that's too feministic
i can't dance but i do it anyways
i'm overprotective & get jealous
i have a painful past that doesn't define me
i believe i can succeed if I put my mind to it
i never give up
mistakes mostly end up being choices
love is hard to come by so grab it up when ya find it
life is simple, we just tend to complicate that process

she always used to say:
if you want to remember
the *** we had:
just play the dandy warhols'
song good morning...
i rather not...
  i'll still do silverchair's
song shade i used to play
on guitar...
        ******* love died,
when i asked her for her
essay to her a masters' degree
                  topic...
and she called me a troll...
fine *****:
be on feministic
            "baywatch" patrol.

title: lan-
body:
GUA-hedge
circa...
gauge:
but don't
engage.   502 bad gateway bypass

when i'm about to have *** i get all fidgety,
diarrhoea prone...
i like to know i'm going to get some: for certain...
i couldn't stomach the uncertainty of a date
with a chance: "chance" of possible ***...
international woman's day my ***...
yeah... it will be: but neither up her or my ***...
tactic... do household chores...
drink a bottle of wine... ******* a few times...
but not *******... her my ***** to the size
of watermelons... i don't want to disappoint her
as being unable to get me off when
last time she couldn't because i was too tired...
drink the bottle of wine... go for a mad 20 minute
cycle... to get the blood pumping to all
the regions of the body...
check the ol' pecker once more...
shower... get dressed... get the bus to the brothel...
i'm thinking... one and a half hours...
an hour is not long enough...
i need to feel more than last time...
good choice with the wine...
spirits would knock me out... well... at least the blood
flow...
in vino veritas?! ha ha... if you're into
a rhetorical hard-on of the tongue...
but there's also:
                       *** vino virilitas!
with wine virility!
   spirits don't get the blood pumping us much...
and no... not red wine... not rose wine...
white white... a south african chardonnay...
the signal post...
well **** me... it's so much better...
can't be hung-over about Jeminah ghosting
me... i tried... perhaps i came with
too many gifts... ah... always a back-up plan...
o.k. o.k. which cologne?
****... maybe two... **** around with her
scent... make sure to go for that intensive
30 minute bicycle ride... get the blood pumping
to all parts of the body... come home...
******* some more looking at the photographs
she sent you... but don't ******...
turn those already watermelons into..
the size of two elephants' testicles...
no need to eat... well... "eat"... that's going to become
rather questionable...
oh no no... there will not be any eating: literally...
mein gott... the joys of uninhibited ***...
and i don't even have to get married...
who says you need pair-bonding dynamics
to be in place to encounter someone like...
something borrowed from:
Milan Kundera's the Unbearable Lightness
of Being? who said?
please... please... no diarrhoea in between
here and there... then...
here: now...
              when you have it so few a times...
the times you have it...
you're like a crazed dog chasing a car...
but in this case: i know exactly what i want to do...
give me one of those balloons you can
fold into shapes... sure... i'll do that...
it's a bit like remembering the times
i had a birthday party and about 2 people showed
up... "party": we were supposed to
go out on the town for drinks...
  by comparison? this is so much fun!
   it's like i got transported into the 1960s...
having unprotected *** with a *******...
ha ha...
with wine virility! yeah... white wine...
i'm already hyper: "a.d.h.d." probing...
                   and to think that women can give so
much life to man... yet so many...
deflect allowing such energy to be given...
harsh... international women's day... ha! ah ha!
that's why i'm going to spend this one
with a *******... because: i can...
because it must be done... because...
eh... **** the western culture's feministic
nunnery... like Freud once pointed out:
the Madonna-***** Complex... oh... ooh...
that's very much alive...
   Ahab! steer the ship clear of those rocks!
we're going after the Kraken!
we're going to have a: ******* proper party, we are!
we're going down down into the realms
of thieves, murderers, psychos, prostitutes
and poets! all the ******!
and we're going to go down with
laughter like fire in our bellies and our *****!
with whirlwinds in our heads...
and stones in our hearts!
   oh... and ***** and mouths as wet as oysters
and those massive ******* hard-ons
for each other: too boot.

i must have done what i have done in retaliation
to all this feministic *******
concerning woman's... 2nd? 3rd? ****** liberation...
like she's this ******* arbiter
of what's the norm... is it?
                   her ****-shaming...
doesn't she know the Kama Sutra dynamic
of... a hare's **** ******* an elephant's ****?!
doesn't she?! is she so ******* ****-less
and all ego-prone to be so... desire-less?!
she's like the worst sort of man...
but she's a woman... which makes it doubly worse...
no wonder no one wants to touch her...
no wonder... ab-so-lu-te-ly
now write that phonetically:
ab-sow-loo-T-lee..
                    English is funny like that...
big **** little ****...
or... little **** big ****...
   i mean: there's the Mariana Trench...
the **** of *****...
    whale eater...
            just like there's the imitation Giza
pyramid... to invert nature's availability
of comparison...
               hell... if women are going to compete...
what the **** am i going to do?
sit back... cucked?! or will i step up?
obviously i'm going to step up and find myself:
most cruel...
most... biological... most... natural...
if the sentiment of the argument goes
along the lines of...
but we're women who have had
experiences...
     we've had threesomes...
sorry... i only have two holes... you have three...
maybe you can... but i can't split
my attention... span...
i need eye-contact...
             woman's ****** liberation...
funny you should mention that...
i'm having a ****** liberation period myself...
i'm free from having to pay for things i don't
want... it's almost like regurgitating the Warsaw Pact...
odd... i don't even need Marx to conjure:
loosely associated men... free-thinking...
not giving a **** about a freedom-of-speech...
why bother giving a **** about
a freedom of speech, when...
there's the more important freedom of thought at hand?!
communism would never undermine capitalism...
the men that invented capitalism would undermine
capitalism... when it wouldn't work for them:
no... not for an advantage...
when it would simply stop working...
communism was a feminist utopia...
what's coming... it's neither either / or... it's a sort of:
oops! flimsy... i'm not buying into it...
why would i need a car... living in London?
if i own a bicycle... i don't need to buy road tax...
i don't need an m.o.t., i'm not taking any luggage anywhere...
why would i need a car?!
i don't need a girlfriend to go on a boring holiday
with to some beach resort to later:
in the meantime: pretend to shoot myself
in the head...
why would i need a woman that doesn't cook better
than me?!
why would i need a woman
that's not even close to me being pedantic about
cleaning the house?!
****'s sake... a yawn is just about as good
a company... as is a fern... or a sleeping cat;
yeah... and reality is supposed to be harsh,
that's why mountains are all rock
and not bundles of sugarcane puff pseudo-clouds...
that's why sharks have teeth
and why dogs have tails...
      and i have opinions...

sure... great... women's liberation, sexually...
i'm liberated too!
        as sure as **** i'll die alone...
but at least i won't be dying with someone nagging
in my ear... brimming with the role of LEECH
before my eyes...
                      even if the state wins...
to hell with woman and all her abhorrent
covert dictates! i'm more inclined to trust a rottweiler
to not bite me... without ill-intent...
than i'm to trust a woman kiss me with
well-intent...
                   that's how far feminism has pushed
the agenda of the sexes...
i'll **** ******...
                    the supposed "other" women...
eh... slave-owners...
                         i'm "mad" enough to envision
project Dodo through and through.

there are probably two media outlets
(id est: legacy media)
i trust...

i came across one, just today:
the Chinese Observer -
the antithesis of the Guardian in England
watched
two videos:
and became flabbergasted: mouth drooping
and lips and tongue drooling:

how, *******, base!
need some more Chinese influence
of what the concept of free speech is
i believe that
China is any pilgrims' destination
of choice when it comes
to free speech: certainly freer than
WOKE past WAKING
VEST...

if i show you the script
that allowed me to clickbait...
wow! just: wow!
like a child: wow!

CHINA'S LEFTOVER WOMEN
DISTRAUGHT: 36-YEAR-OLD
WITH MASTER'S,
OWNS HOME AND CAR,
REMAINS UNMARRIED

and two:

CHINA'S SIMP ECONOMY
COLLAPSE:
LEFTOVER AND
GOLD-DIGGING WOMEN
CRY LOUDEST AS MEN
STOP CHASING...

how, *******: bass! base!
can you get?
and this is coming from
a media outlet!

that's over a billion people not
crying out in some desperation
this is just
a methodological
sober: dictatorial: not drunk
on the furors of democracy
sort of public pressure
so unhappily missing in
the Integration of Europe
with Islam
and the expulsion of the Hebrews
to their State and
North America:

i like the blunt Chinese thinking:
so wude: allure of alluding
to RUDE: like: blatant man...
like tripping in any way
outside of the realm
of post-Apocalypse
Second World War the Glorification
of Genghis Khan and
Adolf ****** who is my Jesus Christ
Adolf ****** is my Jesus Christ
and didn't Jesus do what Nero
promised to do with the torches?!
just asking:
psychopaths rule the world
and i'm going to pay my dog (the devil)
my dues...

i'll do one better than the invetor
of LSD and the *** that never was
and the history that will never be
where the Left of the Germanic peoples
partied
the Left of the Slavic peoples
were competing with inferior
technology and made fools of
the "endowed": COLONIALISTS...
now leaving them:
wind-rushed!
and all blah blah giggi gimmick
in afro inferno of all talk
but nothing written down: seriously:
written down seriously...

i'm drinking a very pale Welsh whiskey
and i'm about to go cycling
high and tipsy...
watch me become this road demon
traffic shepherd:
i love the Chinese stance on freedom
of speech: in that you can openly
insult
while in the west there's this feministic
quest for talking hush hush:

at least! the Chinese!
know what's best! when it's: tactfully! required!
to put! social pressure on!
in an individuation process!
i love the Chinese i couldn't
tire of what they are:
namely not soy boy Japanese
Samurai makebelieve...

              time to test the waters of man:
tectonic: feel a rhythm of what's to be
alive and functioning with bus drivers
and sewage workers
and not: internet instagram and pornstars
that don't want to **** but
play teddybear *** with you
in one hundred years...

China will survive: Darwin ought to know:
and India will survive
and even though i don't have children
i'd like to be surrounded by men
who will have children
and the children will be sacrificed on
an Unnamed Deity Anti-Moloch
who will bring utility service
and be happy with the grain and grit
and grasp of life
and will be ants and wise
and not want to be influencers
just happy with the winter's cold
and the summer's nausea
and insomnia
and and and and and and and...

i was going to write a piece about
how not intelligent i am
when it comes to my base media digestion:
The Times... newspaper...
i look for intelligence: can't find any in
mime: mine...
the CRYPTIC XWRD puzzle
at the end... below the sport "revenue"...

no 28,951
29 ACROSS:
dry bed at start of evening -
somehow it may help child rest? (5,4)

huh?!

answer: TEDDYBEAR...

28 ACROSS:
wife, healthy swimmer with lots
of blubber! (5)

answer: WHALE...

      ah: not hyper-vigilant on this front
of IQ: i hate cryptic: ahem:
idiosyncratic clues to
ponder: answer?

            whale from W- off of -ife
and then ale... what has drinking a pint of ale
got to do with swimming?

no 28,952
clue: 28 ACROSS
enthusiastic about entertaining
good music (6)

answer: REGGAE...

sorry spaz-e-o! no can do your free alliance
spastic mr mr fantastic of getting
to grips with intelligence...

GAY PRIDE
38 year old PRIDE of ******* a 56 year old
SINGLE MOM
like **** me: proud to be a cancer recipient?
proud *** but no gender
just bad and blah grammar...

why wouldn't anyone not admire
the Chinese policy on freedom of speech?
their ******* media outlets are
more free in expressing themselves
than any individual
and what's amazing because
for all the stressing of freedom of speech
in the west:
in the end: no one has anything to actually
talk about
or confront with speech
because there's no thinking invoked to
involve a corruption of the status quo:

such dwindling numbers that
nothing except being confrontational per se
is actually: cognitively stimulating
so i don't: simply don't understand
this western freedom allowance
to dictate: but you have it! you should
preserve it!
freedom of what is said:
freedom of what is spoken:
freedom of what is thought:
freedom of the effort to scribble down:
freedom of the effort to read
but not recite?

oh the Chinese are way ahead of western
societies:
their media outlets
are not censors... funny ha ha hat of invisibility
ON: there is a heavier leverage of
censorship in the west than
there is in China: under a dictatorship so-called...

for fork's sake:
we have policemen and politicians
making a profit
from gambling on the election date!
they put bets on when the election
day would happen
and you want me to believe
in that crippling ancient Greek thought
experiment
and not the Sword of Damocles
and the fine print of a few people
taking action and will
and bonding it: the ******* WILL
the will of Allah and Blah-Lah and Yah...

oh the Chinese are admirable:
just have a watch of those two videos
by the Chinese Spectator:
so base... bass...
a people motivated by evolution
and tectonic pressures to survive in such
an amassed number of examples:
but no gain from stressing
exemplars of said examples...