Ah ah ah. Not yet.
Popcorn ceiling instead.
Eve curls up. She's got
tiny ankles. And he,
whoever he may be tonight,
does what they always do.
He traces that funny, bony
sphere. He apologizes.
Tells her it's because
she's so beautiful.
His forwardness is
a compliment.
She reminds him of
this character from a Fitzgerald
novel -- not an obvious
one, of course.
She says wow or oh yeah? or
you're just being sweet.
She asks him if he smokes.
He's trying to quit.
Yeah, I have some in
my hoodie pocket there.
She usually removes the dress here.
Just out of his reach.
Taking more time than necessary.
Bent over, digging through the pocket,
she listens for the heavy exhale.
She walks to the bathroom.
Light on.
Door open.
He gives it a moment.
His shirt is off now.
His elbow is on the door frame.
Eve, you know you're not inhaling right?
And here, she let's him teach her how,
as she did with the last one.
By the end of the cigarette,
she's french inhaling.
Had a good coach.
She runs water over
the tip to put it out and tosses it
in the trashcan.
Of course he brings his body against
hers.
He starts with a shoulder massage.
You can go lower.
He skips the bra.
He runs his fingers
just under the lace waistband.
Asking permission.
Are you going to **** me or what?

Jay wants to say he loves her
when he sees her trying to smoke.
He's not sure if he does yet,
but he hasn't said it in so long.
She's got these small ankles.
Her abs are uneven.
There's a mole on her hipbone.
No, no it's just like breathing.
Just breathe for me. Without smoking.
The lungs, right? Take the smoke
into your lungs.
Oh my gawd. Ha ha ha. She coughs.
Jay rubs her shoulders.
She smells of tobacco and coconut-based lotion.
And he goes lower.
And he doesn't want to be too forward.
But she says **** so softly it makes
his hands go mad.

He's shaky. Panting. At the end of it all.
They made love atop the comforter.
Eve burns. Calls it afterglow.
She feels like she's absorbed all
the room's energy.
She puts herself to the edge
of the bed to cool.
You're so soft, she says.
Surprised, genuinely. He made love
so slow. Maybe a little too much eye
contact. He lifts up the blankets,
and asks her to crawl underneath.

She didn't say his name during ***.
And Jay's afraid he said hers too much.
She bit him. Too dramatic for his taste.
And at the end, he feels cold,
as if all the love inside him
has been deposited.
She tells him he is soft.
Probably the loose skin, he says.
Used to be a fat guy. Well, fatter.
When she doesn't respond,
he lifts up the comforter;
crawls underneath.
No thanks, I'm on fire, she says.
He decided not to say I love you.
But he reaches for her.
She faces him.

Patience. You're alright, Jay.

With my poetic words, I’m looking to breathe Life
into the souls and spirits of others to prevent…
the conditions that lead one to a spiritual Death;
with directness, my messages’ clarity is clear,
as instructed in the Great Commission from Christ.

Temptations of head-scratching, clutter, confusion
and being overly clever are avoided, when Biblical
references are supplied; hopefully, my personality
shines through, despite my analytical thinking and
my spiritual creativeness of expressing Salvation.

My idealized thoughts are evident and recognizable;
now most of my readers, can easily detect the sound
of my inward voice, with its straight-forwardness
and consistency. Finding a resonance of Faith, they
can identify and love poems… that are analyzable!

Though I wear no crown of decadent jewels pressed down around my brow,
It can be said that I am beautiful.
Needing no assistance from a mask of make-up and every hair doing as it pleases,
I am told that I am beautiful.
Without the burden of corsets, push-ups and garters; no cocktail dress draping my shoulders,
I look in the mirror and am satisfied.
I wear blue jeans, t-shirts and tank tops; tennis shoes, flip-flops and high-tops,
And still my legs are long and lean; my shape curvy and full.
And while I walk by, a southern sway in my step, you know you take more than a cursory glance.
I have attitude, and bluntness inherited from my line of honest folk.
I am country. I am bold. I am ruthless.
I am simple in the way that diamonds are simply compressed carbon.
I am beautiful in the way that only a southern girl can be.
I am a huntress with my 243 across my lap in a camo blind.
I am an actress as I smile and say “Bless your heart.”
I am a lover if there ever was one.
I am a fighter when the chips are down.
I am my father’s nightmare and my mother’s dream.
See me with my mut from the pound that’s better trained than your frou-frou, AKC registered pom-poo.
Join me as I sing the hymns my granny sang with the same tone and inflection.
I am educated with my poor country grammar I use only to spite those who think I’m ignorant.
I know more about tracking a blood trail than I do about propriety,
But I’m studied in the art of being couth.
My southern charm is mixed with brazen straight forwardness.
I am proud. I am American. I am beautiful.

I dyed the front strand of my hair dark gray blue
I told a girlfriend waiting for the train
How an old business partner of mine asked me once
"What are you most afraid of?"
And I said: Men.

Theres this sense of entitlement
****** forwardness. Threat.
Just because you want us
Don't mean we want you.

I've noticed and swam in the ocean
But its not really the ocean
Its just Lake Michigan
I coin the creative things
And I miss my old life at times
But I settle and spread my wings out here.

But there is somethin' about men
And it ain't got to do with location
But I do think in big cities
Monogamy and sincerity harder to come by
Remember how you would use the word ain't too?
Because of me
And my influence.

I heard you came into my room.
We all knew you would.
My Chicago sisters of the moon
Who it took me running away to Philadelphia
To realize I ran out of rope
To see, to see
Appreciate and nourish your surroundings
But I make phone calls and videos
Sending my love and listening ears
My Philly army ladies are the best.

But they did
We called it
I left my door propped open with the paint I used
To paint myself blue
Mystique
The night after you left my heart in the toilet
I knew you would soak me up
See my living quarters
My handwriting all over the walls
So I propped my door open
Just so you could see
I wasn't home.

I heard you celebrated stealing your sweat shirt back
You sifted through my belongings
Made yourself right at home
But honey baby,
I've so clearly moved on.

As you hide behind fundamental fake antics
Lewd gestures
You flick off the cameras documenting moments on film sets
I should have known, I should have known.

It angered me
To hear you were so entitled
I was so wrong about you.

I felt contentment
For all of about 5 minutes
Everyone said you were different, better, real
With me
But I left you at the wedding.

I'm not sure what any of it is
But I hate sleeping these days
I woke up again today to a beautiful black man in my bed
Closing my eyes all morning
So connected, so deep
I swat and gallop past the prejudices of my home town.

Beautiful Innovator and I danced down the streets of my neighborhood
I threw the CimmFest tshirts I snagged into the sky
We howled, we laughed
I felt so free, so open
I ate eggs, he told me to protect my art.
We protect our art
But I can't just have this be a hobby all my days.

I don't know
And I never really seem to.
But I know you see the women get body painted
After me, my influence
We knew you would come into my room
You think you're so cool.

But really.
God Bless, and I meant it
Its only a matter of time one of the boys said
"Don't ever go back. Because then he will think he's got you around his finger. Its not fair to you."
My hair dresser said to me today.
Don't ever go back
Don't ever go back
I can't believe she went back
I can't believe I went back, to soak up more blood
But I bit into my heart
Refilled it with the blood I lost

And close the door of my bedroom.

reverend, hold on to yours heathers

pay homage in…

cold handshakes, several different when

shades weigh the same together

pretty present in existence

since sense began…

priests dressed in electric black shells

figurine sand to ocean bell sickness

pushing gapes

pulling weight

praise and break

point and gaze

motormouth mona and water without europa

wont causeway why…

mind, body, soul and soda

your holy holes in water cry souls and cola

jade green ***** curdled in cloth

terrorise terracotta blue…

his scissor cynicism floating down deep

too far in thoughts honed in drunken sleep

rotten down faith

mustard and grapes

horses in hays

the churchbell face

sipped tears in a moody blues foot

heavens name

boredom, chair tippin’ lemon gums loose

sevens straight

one is day

horned rims and your empty plates

passing on passing on passing on shoes

passed out passion with the stuff you use

no collide no collide no sliding streams

wont bother anyone but simply confuse

kholum bala froze dog brush minds

chrome collars punching trees and diamond vines

woke up at your stomach and started to sink

doesnt it look like someones had too much to think

man/woman, father/mother, sister/brother

simply cut curtains at every corner, hastily turn

to your side and roll onto the edge of your forwardness

diagonally push a fist backward from a snowy pitch

roll ten thousand times in a smooth fabric yaw

and **** down the barrel of my jaw

Winds blowing in a symphony of passion
Time stood with expectation of retreat
My realm belongs to the world  
Since I was invincible, the harpoon crosses the finish line
The lighthouse watches the fire raising thoughts of Indecency,
A collaboration of hands holds the secret of creation  
Corridors fuel a desire of revolution
I ran out of words, exploring inside my love
Stranded I left my eyes on the balance of evolution  
Chanting butterfly trembled as my fingers caress your face
Attracting fears at the door, escaping sadness of oppression  
In front of a thickest fog
a human calculation lifts us wondering for justice
A river flow through a piano unveil a new song
Places of freedom continually changed the landscape of the people
Wheels turn slowly especially when tyranny sits on the throne
Few hands found sincerity,
who can pass through a needle without pain?
Rapture of souls found beneath the skylight
Moments of an old flame burning, Summons the rhythm of a man
Take a deep breath on the middle of serenade
Sheerness of life reconstruct the hands that rocks the ocean
I walked through the valley seeking silence
Satisfaction clear presence of danger
Many spoke about solidarity reveling
emancipation from the streets
Forwardness  touched a ****** sensing
the silence of an oblique mourning
For miles the last breath came on a brink of manifestation
Castaway your ambitions and ride on a wave of passion
Wondering syllabus hear the bells
My heart is beating at the sound of angels
Predictions reveal a song of peace
Reckless and punishment declares a new dawn
Eclipse wonder along the clouds,
Timeless spreading kisses inside a concrete rose




Rony Joseph all rights reserved 2010

Adding apologies to artillery shells does not amend the action,

And

My brokenness betrays me when it bellows that I have beaten bruises black and blue into your back

But

Crying is a catharsis much too commonplace to convey these casualties.



My doubtful disposition has denied you deliverance from your daring endeavors

Because

Emptying myself to entertain someone else's enormous sense of entitlement

Is

A feeling that frightens my already fragile sense of forwardness.



Glory from a god who glances generously upon us growling ghosts

Is

A Heaven that hurts like hell because happiness is heresy

But

Isolation is an independence I never intended to introduce here.



Juggling jokes and jealousy between juggernauts is jeopardizing my judgement

Because

Kindness is to knowing the truth as kissing is to your knuckles,

It's

Like living life as a lamb but loving a lion.



Missiles gone missing are making me misunderstand my own memory

Yet

Needles have never seemed so necessary as when you're near,

And

Ownership is not an option so we have both become orphans.



Praying to people seems more plausible than pleasing a perfect being

So

I will quantify rather than qualify the quaintness of this quarantine

And

Respectfully reply that paying retribution to a ***** is ridiculous.



Soon something will surface that sends shivers down your spine

But

Today there is only turmoil taking its time to taper off

So

Understand when I utter the word "unify" that I mean us.



Vain and vindictive as you have very well verified being,

If

We worship with what we wish, not what we will,

Our

Exploitation will exemplify an axis on which oxymoron is expedient.



You and your yearning will not yield to yonder threats,

Because

The zeal of this zephyr will carry us to the zenith.

It's all winter legs here,
curled in scarfs of red,
boot lace tied tight to seal in the warmth.
Walls of emptiness flutter skirts, graze ankles,
solid nothing like a stronger glass.
Her tilted head, his own inclined to trace the
dust on her boots.
A glimpse of a face poking between brown-sweater shoulders,
soldiers of some greater empire in floral uniform,
legs crossed loosely,
patrols of them crossing in twos and threes
past the archway of the gym's one-toothed mouth.
They had no solidarity of soldiers,
nor the strength.
Instead, like silly schoolgirls,
they stumbled over straps of bags
and stretched their syllables into the
first notes of laughter,
their voices as sensual as an air raid alarm.
They stepped sure-footedly,
every pace a vow of forwardness,
a marching corps ever onward,
the banners of their hair catching
unanticipated breezes that
misguided the heartless counterfire of rival divisions
even as their rifle lunch bags crackled in their white fists.
They swung long jackets around their forms,
the bones protesting, pushing against the cloth like
trapped men flanked by greater loves.

One paused to ask his name.

laid bare
i’m bleeding here
assaulted with rare forwardness
- i just didn’t know how to defend myself

a little panic
plays in my head
as securities are disarmed
and well hidden shadows of my self
start slipping out
pouring out
bursting out
out
out
out
(god, they want out)

making a fine mess of me,
you are
*and I am not even yours to mess with

Even though the mind is never,
at rest,
Expounding upon itslef ambiguously,
Even though we are stopped; at the end,
we are racing!
At this moment,
we all understand ourselves,
with little flaws, faults and fallacies,
About what we're all about,
Even though it all makes sense,
the next turn, corner, windowsill,
Threshold doors float.
flow,
Our consciousness is infallable,
The hubiris of this satire,
That all persons,
At this moment,
Even though the brain constantly perceives,
In our little grandiose heads,
We have it all figured out,
The system of environment has,
been analyzed,
The results were,
inconclusive,
Yet we persist,
even though,
at the flip of a switch,
after all is said and done,
even though we knew our
Ultimate Truth,
sought after,
strived and toiled for,
even understanding chiral inversions,
fractal combustion,
The makeshift mind,
Never failing,
The unbending will,
gleefully wisping,
singing and swaying,
Sunlight beaming,
Booming,
Across the faces,
Flashing on scattered specks,
even though our ugliness,
is beauty,
even though,
love conquers all,
even though,
Truth,
Is malleable,
Our stubborn straight-forwardness,
Makes that realization rigid.

Not all things are perfect,
I am aware of that,
But there are days where I cannot seem to get by
Without soft-breathing in exhaustion
An “Oh ****…”
Or giving a “******”
A talking volume
When few or none are around
To scold me with their ears.
What, haven’t you heard “***” outside
Of TV sitcoms before?
Or "****" aside from around a college campus?
I still get reactions when these words are overheard
From my lips,
Though it’s my life,
And these words have a recurring frequency.
These words are not only a stress-reliever
For someone like me,
But simultaneously a linguistic culture,
A communicative temptation,
Yet also having a dominating expression,
Commanding no only attention
But seriousness.
Fine, do what you want,
Hurl my soul to eternal shame and torture,
But a “curse-ed” day is like a chimney,
Letting out the smoke
Of energy that powers my motivation and forwardness.

I have replayed what I'd say to you
Time and time again
If our paths did cross
If we ever spoke again
I promised to myself
I wouldn't be the first to speak
But here I am writing this
My heart's starting to leak
Forgive me for my forwardness
I just can't hold it in
If I stay quiet any longer
I'll implode from within:

208 days have past
It's really sad, it is
I'm keeping track of the days
Since I've seen you last
Does that scare you away?
I would turn and run
But see I can't stop falling
When I've already begun
It started forever ago
At least that's what it seems
I'd watch you talk to her
But we'd talk in my dreams
The 'her' left you mistreated
And I saw you break apart
Watching you suffer
Was like a dagger to my heart
Then we hiked a mountain
Something happened to my soul
I felt something draw me in
Like the stories that are told
I waited, though I shouldn't
And I only was let down
Not once, not twice,
But three times I hit the ground
In the midst of all of that
I realized something new
That I would lay my life down
I would lay it down for you
Crazy that I'd say that
But I can't deny what's real
I tried so hard to forget
I tried harder not to feel
You'd think that I'd be hurt
Enough to turn away
But something keeps me here
And your memory won't fade
I've tried everything I can
Everything to no avail
You're floating in my head and heart
Since the day you first set sail
You are waiting for a right time
But life goes by so fast
Never is there perfect moment
To make what counts last
So grab me by my face
Tell me "this will never work!"
That is the only way
To lose the feelings that lurk
And after all this spilling out
Am i just the obsessive freak?
Or is this silence killing you?
Is your heart starting to leak?

Unnoticed, beside the hedge,
I watched them embrace.

She, oblivious in her white-hot passion,
body arching, legs flailing, silk snapping!
He, all the while, behaving as if drunk;
snared by her feminine wiles,
paralysed by her clinging grasp,
shocked by her sudden forwardness!

I passed that way again today,
but they were gone, those lovers.

All that marked their passing
was his drained husk,
spinning madly
upon a broken, abandoned web.

if i said "i love you",
would you resent me?
would you recoil in disgust at my forwardness?

or would you embrace me?
would you throw your arms around me and kiss me how you do?

one day the words "i love you" will fall from my lips upon your ears
and i hope you will say it back.

title: snuggle
body:
limitless
loss
of sleep    another 502 bad gateway bypass...
i just want to love like...
Edward Scissorhands... Ice Dance song...
playing in the background...
we meet in a graveyard... at night...
and it's snowing... it's snowing ballerinas...
ah... the impossible...
well then... no point blaming ****** omelettes
on prostitutes... either.

100 hundred press ups...
stomach crunches?
   n'ah... i don't feel like it...
yesterday i woke up with my ****-cheeks
aching... they were still aching
today... i thought... better firm them
up a little... 2 hours of cycling ought
to do it, just shy of Rainham via
and back again via Hornchurch...
well... can't say that it helped...
but why bother doing stomach crunches?
i woke up today with my entire
torso aching... like i must have done...
1000 stomach crunches...
well... that's what having ***
in the ******* will do to you
while you're propped up on your
hands above a woman...
more ***... less of that stomach crunches
exercise... press ups: sure...
i'll keep doing those...
   mind you: i never go mad on lifting weights...
i have these two... handle bars?
whatever you call them... how much is on each...
15kg? maybe more... i do about 20 folds
on my knees... but i'm after the adrenaline
in traffic on the bicycle...
   to my demise... i started thinking about Jeminah...
looked her up on facebook...
pretending: it's a bit like me sitting
pitch-side at a football match looking at
faces in the crowd...
my god... you can really stare at people
in a non-creepy way... looking out primarily
for a potential heard-attack...
but if a pretty girl is sitting in the crowd...
you can just put on a poker face
and... no one is going to tell you:
hey! creep! stop staring!
                        it's actually more fun than
watching the actual football match...
if i get to see Khedra enough times i'm sitting pretty
on getting something remotely resembling
a six-pack... not that a six-pack would
look good if you are hairy...
        and i'm not going to just shave, wax...
metro-sexualise myself...
but that got me thinking...
            positive... is this even thinking? perhaps
more like gloating... but... what's the alternative?
wallowing? the plethora of emotions surrounding
doubt? self-denial: the ascetic approach?
can people on write about... denying themselves
an iota of self-appreciation?
in an age of self-employed people...
i'm pretty sure can attach a Dune-esque
self- prefix to what the mythos of Dune describes
as: thinking machines... machina cogitans...
that was always my pet peeve with philosophy...
the words: thing, nothing, something...
broad generalisations... or rather... words that
would make thinking along the lines of 1 + 1 = 2
in language much easier...
                         i am a machine of sorts...
another pet word: being...
       breaking down existence: ex-instance...
or... out-of-every-instance: insistence...
                     not will as such: more akin
to stubbornness... this mortal plea: one more day...
one more hour...
    in Latin that would be...
    out-of-every-instance: insistence (remember though,
the Romans didn't have all the prepositions /
conjunction words that modern English has)
    ex-omni-exemplum: instantiam...
             res cogitans is so vague...
given i have a scratch of consciousness regarding...
the schematic of my body...
i know my muscles in my torso ache...
not because i was doing stomach crunches...
but because i was arching over a woman
performing *** in a *******...
my brain aches from dehydration... i take a pill...
points of concern like so...
      eh... the atomised man...
then again: another "thing" to cut up his mind
with the instrument that i call the quasi-soul...
so stressed by psychology... oh hell...
when medicine sped up to get its whereabouts
with the human body... obviously the psychologists:
"doctors"... psychiatry and its hellish freaks
of instructed lobotomies... oh... one of those
***** envies... they had to cut up a man's mind into:
well, not halves... that's sure as ****...
a ******* Trinity... but like the profanity that's
Christianity... joke... how many schisms can
Christianity... accommodate? from what i heard...
an infinite number of schisms...
by that account... me prodding at a possible
2nd schism in Islam... spearheaded by the Turks
and not the Persians... hmm...
   well... Christianity is a Babel by now...
   i don't really have a criticism of Christianity...
i already had mine... when i was much younger...
a child... Nietzsche already did the "intellectual"
heavy-lifting... i remember being a child
and being confronted with the... if your enemy strikes
you... turn the other cheek...
some primordial argument arose in me...
that's ******* counter intuitive! i'll hit back!
i might not hit back: immediately... obviously...
i might take some time... get hold of the bigger picture...
explore... more avenues...
    but... that's so ******* counter-intuitive...
plus... i didn't take up the option of being confirmed...
confirmation is big in Catholicism:
you can't have a church wedding without being
confirmed... there... that's my "intellectual" take-down
of Christianity... but...
what did Christianity do? well... it turned European
barbarism into... European secularism...
that's all it did... but not that it would ever tame
the barbarism... as... plenty of examples...
plus... the New Testament? to me?
Greco-Judeo propaganda... esp. with the unearhing
of the Nag Hammadi library... in some cave...
in Egypt... and the scribbles of...
some Egyptian false prophet... trying to conquer
Jerusalem, but then retreating... found in...
a book about the Roman Hebrew wars...
by josephus ben matthias... or... as he was later known:
by the proselyte name: flavius josephus...
i almost feel sorry for Nietzsche: with hindsight...
because there's always that aspect of hindsight...
which... the finding came in 1945...
simultaneously... the finding of the dead sea scrolls...
which compiled the lost works of...
Isaiah? right... Hey-Zeus was crucified...
but i read somewhere that... Isaiah was...
eventually... cut in half... at the torso...
hmm... well... peanuts or bananas...
which is worse, if you're allergic to either?
i've had my criticism of Christianity... on a level of
a child... i don't need to elaborate on it...
that it breeds weakness... love is a weakness...
until i met either Jeminah or Khedra...
i had a heart of stone...
          now? i'd still love to get together with
Jeminah... drink some wine... listen to a New Order
record on vinyl...
i got the picture... she was showing me this book
of old, historical Romford...
well... she gave it to me... standing over me...
i asked her: why don't you sit down next to me?
talk me through it?
  she did... ha ha... on our whatsapp exchange
i sent her a link to: foster the people - sit next to me...
she did sit down, slightly reluctantly...
my god... the moment the recoil happened...
i must have "accidently" touched her knuckle
with my finger... phoom! the ******* Challenger
space shuttle disaster! she sort of bounced off
two walls and then the ceiling and was sitting
far far away on the other couch...
but then there's Khedra... the ***** that made
my ****-cheeks ache and my torso attempting
to have six-pack ambitions...
yeah... well... it's a bit different when you see
footballers "taking the knee" on a football pitch
for "some cause"... a bit different when you're
taking a knee... stark naked... before a woman...
just to be level-eye with her...
and... just... you know... fiddly-do-b'ah...
   whatever... oh... i can kneel before a *******...
kiss her stomach... kiss her feet...
i think that's a better altar than...
pretending to **** **** before the altar
of ZEE CRUCI-VIED 'UN...
             magic ******* numbers!
                       yeah... Greco-Hebrew propaganda
against the Roman Empire...
that's what the New Testament is to me...
to go one further... i already mentioned this...
Ba'al Yah'****... lord of mosquitos...
what... turning water into wine...
and wine into blood... is not some infernal metaphorical
device? oh sure... Hey-Zeus was like...
the biggest troll out of hell...
         how did i remedy the spell?
once... i poured myself a glass of wine... ****** in it...
then drank it... MAH-AH-GIC!
a bit like those guys in World War I...
when the mustard gas fell... ******* on handkerchiefs...
the ammonia... purifying the smell of rotten
eggs... blah blah...
then again: why am i writing this?
am i happy? or do i... haven't got anything better
to write? or... perhaps this is easy?
imagine introducing the concept of Ba'al Yah'****
into Islam... to the Turks... hmm...
do you... perhaps think... the Turks might splinter
off... from the prior orthodoxy and heresy
of the Persians? reasoned with?
hmm... they do allow alcohol...
                      and they have the best barbers...
plus... the women? **** like they might be
from the harem of king Solomon...
*** starved... since... not even king Solomon had
the sort of stamina to **** over 1000 women...
if he did... he must have been an ******...
or at least... he wasn't ******* anything by
the end of a session... ergo... trophies... ***-starved
single men... and women... also *** starved...
with... perhaps... very crude ideas of the original ******...
then again... when was a cucumber cultivated,
proper?
sure... look up that josephus ben matthias ref.
regarding the false prophet from Egypt...
wait... wait... didn't Joseph take Mary and Hey-Zeus
to Egypt, the flight to Egypt?
sure... the historian was born circa... 32 AD...
but this is at the time of... NO INTERNET...
    imagine... what it must have taken...
to establish a YEAR ZERO...
                         wow... the amount of work that
went into that... few years... even a 100 could
go missing... just... "missing"...
   the fact being: this prophet wanted to overthrow
Roman rule of Judea: failed... fled back to
Egypt... and where was the Nag Hammadi library
found? in a cave, in Egypt...
just as the theatre of war of World War II was
coming to an end, come 1945... sure...
just "coincidental"... Ba'al Ya'**** had his fun...
not exactly endowed to please women...
abstain from this...
   if the modern girls want their... ahem... feminist war...
on men... sure... let them come...
today i perfect my mango curry...
i started to use whole piece of chicken... on the bone...
today it was drumsticks...
i marinated them in... yougurt...
turmeric... Kashmiri chilly powder...
coriander and cumin powder...
then i baked them...
   i had a spare mango... but already preprepared
mango curry sauce...
****... run out of garam masala...
but i made this other... curry powder...
strike me down i don't remember what i used...
a teaspoon of this curry powder...
some korma curry powder... some more
coriander powder... some more cumin powder...
a third of a teaspoon of clove powder...
some more Kashmiri chilly powder...
some more turmeric... put the heat right on...
to infuse the powders with the chicken stock
and the coconut milk... bay leaves...
taken out before blitzing with the onions
the ginger and the garlic... some peppercorns...
oh... and nigella seeds... a must...
some raisins... and a splash of apple cider vinegar...
yo! Faust! we're cooking! Faust... mate...
we're cooking tonight... sorry to disappoint you...
but tomorrow we're having fish & chips...
from where? Lighthouse Fish & Chips...
145 Heath Park Road, Gidea Park, Romford...
   RM2 5XJ... the best fish and chips you'll ever get...
trust me... i'm endorsing them...
Faust... what's that? chaos... oh... don't worry...
you'll get to the thrills...
there are plenty to come...
  look at me... i'm trying to juggle two women at
once... one... Turkish: a bomb in bed...
wants to meet outside of the brothel...
in a hotel room... "talk"... "improve her English"...
just wants to **** for the whole night...
sure... we'll go for food... me-be even a moo-v...
the other... a shy doe... but that dark tinge of ginger
that's just irritating to the *****...
Faust... curry come this Saturday...
yes, yes... the mango version of a korma...
more spicy... certainly no almonds so not as bland:
more acidic... no... i'm not going to infuse
the rice with turmeric... how much yellow do you
want on a plate? yes, i'll add the peppers...
for a bit of crunch... garnish?
fresh coriander... sure... i don't think anyone
will be asking for extra yoghurt...
   (burp)...
                   and you remember that "other" girl...
the friend of the manicurist that comes to see your mother...
she just tags along... she has a "thing" for Scandinavian
aesthetics on a man...
     nervous as hell: esp. when you peer into
her eyes and then peer at her face...
so much make-up... a body of crumbs... petite...
if you had *** with her: you'd crush her...
but this manicurist brings her daughter along...
you were talking in the garden while holding
this toddler in your hands... exposing her
to the sunlight... from time to time...
gripping the exposed feet of the toddler in
your hands: to warm them up...
you introduced this girl to the music
of the band Ghost... you spoke about wishing
to die on the Faroe Islands...
like it was your place of birth... well... isn't death
just that? a man's actual birth? a completion
for time to ascend toward a forwardness of
the spectacle? ugh... verbiage... unavoidable...
but who the hell just wants soap opera:
uncomplicated vector simplistic language of
purely: verbs... some nouns?
no... no etymology? wow... what a chunk of
history just: ****! gone! back to the analysis
of the comparisons of the ape to human skeleton...
**** similis is an ancient idea... there's nothing
new about it... nothing has changed...
because it's not supposed to...
                and what did it take?
my doctor's concern about my high blood pressure...
you either lose weight... or we're going to put you
on high blood pressure tablets...
**** that... you already miscalculated
by putting me on anti-psychotic drugs...
which made me put on weight...
i took myself off them... you have any...
actual.... counter-insomnia medication?
phenergan? sure... i'll take those... once in a while...
i'll stick to Naproxen and APAP...
and whiskey...
        though...
               wow... what a world changer...
giddy school girls... bro'... n'ah...
  not enough experience... they're just posturing
self-assurance... i'm after the mandible jaws...
but imagine... from a time when someone like...
Brautigan... no, not Brautigan...
       Berrigan... no... not him... ****... it does start
with a B, though... hmm... B... Berryman! John!
that's the one... how many marriages... how many
divorces... not that i'm counting myself...
                     oh, we're ******... esp. ****** right now...
it was possible back then...
but now? one ****-tease after another...
   thank god i chose to not have money...
i'd look like a complete idiot if i was honey-trapped...
because i might have money...
then again: i think i have money...
sure... gold standard... from IMPERIAL RUSSIA...
coins... stamps from elsewhere...
a ******* banknote from IMPERIAL RUSSIA with
Nicholas II's face on it...
   hell... i'll keep it until times becomes really
desperate... but? until then... when they find my body...
and they find that... i'll spin the myth...
i like seeing how people treat people...
depending on their social stratum...
i stopped watching movies...
                  hmm...
                              let's see some more...
high value man: the high earner... "alpha"...
well... fair enough... for a society that's supposed
to follow the lineage of the words:
i'm the alpha and the omega...
                    it's nice being on the outside: looking in...
my supposed value gets a direct translation...
prostitutes are like: the gold standard... or the FIAT...
not being demeaning...
but the money i give them: i wouldn't spend...
on... anything they might spend it on...
if i spent money like i do... Scotland would be
a Switzerland...
but, hell... if all these videos i've watched... are true?
if women want to bring the fight...
with what? i iron my own shirts... i cook my own meals...
i vacuum my own house...
i don't think there's a bargaining chip in sight...
and ***? i just found the best *** in my life...
*** so good that even she thinks it's not fair me paying
for only an hour... she wants to meet in a hotel...
for the whole night... "talk"...
so... Sartre mentions this...
   i'm still in the realm of skim-reading... the entry
points... the freedoms we have as individuals...
and how we express them...
                         i'm not willing to be a wage-slave for
someone to spend that money on...
something non-essential... because...
i call it the LIBIDO FACTOR... well... there's only
this amount of farmers we can have...
there's only this amount of metallurgy factory workers
we can have... beyond that?
attention seeking ******?
freely passing money around?
for what? ****'s sake... CONTENT?!
what.... CONTENT?!
                 it's not that there's too many people in
this world... per se... it's that...
there's enough people to have figured out
what to do... at this point...
i think we're going to run dry on ideas on...
what people can do... beside: plagiarise, steal...
and generally turn towards crime...
which is... a bonus for me...
         i'll have freely available clones... pawns...
should push come to shove...
i know what i'll have at my disposal... clones...
pawns... it's rather beautiful...
******* mind-drones... ditto-heads...
                 but then again... i'm not the one prone
to dream up architecture for a Freud-type
to interpret... all i dream of is a void...
sometimes a word pierces it...
                         no... no symbolism of a big hat...
or a cucumber... simply... NO-THING...
zilch... nada...
   yes... i've watched these supposed "alpha" males...
they're... always... weirdly... over-compensating
for a... hidden deficiency...
they are always posturing... they always seem
to be: eagerly disposing a set of rubrics of anger...
of... awaiting violence...
in a crowd of people... they never manage
to: get the jyst of "things"...
    weird... weird as ****... you know when you can
smell fear: sniff.... sniff... hmm.... i smell something...
it's a bit different when you find an
example that's... posturing... oh... a very different
sort of fear... not a fear from a direct attack....
"beta" males don't give off this vibe...
there's always some variation of a protector....
but these "alpha" males... oh... their fear is born
from... being... undermined...
sabotaged... it's thrilling to watch...
                                      why wouldn't it be thrilling?
it's like that scene from Hotel Transylvania...
when that old lady gremlin swallows something,
shaking, says... i didn't do it...
it wasn't me...
            and they get all hyped up...
become so talkative...
                         yawn...
                      i get scared too... i sometimes jolt back
when seeing a random hallucination in the night...
wait! ****! that's not my shadow...
oh... right... it just maybe is...
        ha ha... they had to go through all that
crap of building up resources...
seeking the "****** bride"...
                 me? what supposed artist gets rich
in his lifetime? i'm investing in...
post-humous legacy...
    i sought value in society's lowest ebb...
among prostitutes...
and what treasures i found there...
certainly no hook-up culture: mentality...
    i can kneel naked before a naked body of a woman
and... if i'd like: **** on the crucifix...
because? by now... i can...
with Christianity and its forever schismatism...
orthodox, catholic, protestant, baptist, blah blah...
whatever... i'm thinking about making Islam endure...
like a Janissary might... or a... Mamluk...
**** me... i'm willing...
                   but there needs to be a splinter...
one... there the Turks take over...
i already established the ground work...
Hey-Zeus? Ba'al Yah'****...
                  there's nothing for me here...
  nothing worth the life i'd want to life...
                           but i'll kneel before the altar of
a ******* standing before me naked...
while i'm kneeling naked myself...
and my eyes come level with her chin...
       time for change....
                     even if i die forgotten...
most people who accumulate wealth are forgotten...
now... that all depends... on the wealth
of my idea... could it be the proper probe...
let the court of time: decide;
i'm still going to enjoy the remains
of this whiskey... whether anyone likes it....
or not.

Slanderous tongues wont halt my steps,
Wont halt my stampede of forwardness,
As wisdoms guidance have n will ensure this,
Descended from Highest Highs,
While those who are doubters,
Will be bandwagonists,
Facades they are,
Always known by what flows from their lips,
Especially During Moments wear n tear,
Via
Solid Amounts of Kalinago, Bantu, Zulu, Taino Courage,
Will stamp out fear,
Against Critics,
I will persevere !

Unnoticed, beside the hedge,
I watched them embrace.
She, body arching, silk snapping,
oblivious in her white-hot passion.

He, all the while, behaving as if drunk,
snared by her feminine wiles,
paralysed by her clinging grasp,
shocked by her sudden forwardness.

I passed that way again today,
but they were gone, those lovers.
All that marked their passing
was his drained husk,
spinning madly in the wind
upon a broken and abandoned web.