Locked in silent thought, watching the trick of mind disappear.
A thousand mirrored spirals on canvas surrounding me. Closed eyes envision an explosion of sanity and normal cascading from my head.
It is easier not to fight it.
The smoke filled lung holds no answers but coughs out a key. To which door? A plethora unfolds before me and I take the hand of a traveler.
“lead me from this place.”
The beast grows into a multi-armed flying goddess and grasps my head.
“trickle your thought to my cup.”
It asks.
I oblige.
All thought is gone, sanity released, I am everywhere and of no being. Viewing past, present and future in perfect harmony I crouch in awe. The head I was encapsulated in vanishes and myself spills into all existence. No self..No perception of me..Perfection.

(churn .0
charged
q1.O - a 502 bypass)

following yesterday's ****** of an internet experience,
someone who staged being appreciative of my work
began to divulge his own innermost secrets,
two failed marriages, Vietnam...
ambitions for changing society....
childhood misery... so i replied... i tried to make
it out as empathetically as i could on some points...
and as sympathetically as i could on others...
empathy? childhood misery...
being uprooted from my homeland...
forced into learning a new language at the age of
eight with no prior knowledge:
thank god i was equipped with some flare
for the universal language of mathematics...
come to think of it, mathematics saved me...
no some crazy-*** algebra... although give me
a quadratic equation and i'll all teeth in...
so i disclosed my own "stuff"...
i'm only 35... this guy must be nearing his 70s...
he turns around and blasts at me:
only i can tell you my miseries!
you can't tell me yours! thank god he only blocked
me rather than report me...
i've archived the exchange...
once i was "instructed" that one should start reading
philosophy when one becomes older...
what's the use of that?!
when someone nearing 70 does the leftist manoeuvre
of having no discussion?!
he can stage his little tirade and block
while i'm left scratching my head...
so when do i get a chance to reply?
a 70 year old man... i was expecting more...
i'm glad of the two of us: someone matches
their age... tired old ***...
he can do his little snippet of grotesque
******* all he wants... i hate internet drama:
i avoid it at all costs: i'm yet to record a video
of myself or push out some audio:
i think i won't bother... it might attract the wrong
sort of crowd: the sort of crowd that think
reading is boring / a chore...
is this a variation of gate-keeping?
no... it's just a filtering process for the readership...
it was supposed to be this great escape come
Friday night...
well... the true escape only came today...
i finished studying up on my NVQ preliminaries...
almost finished the English section,
one section left... i'll do that tomorrow...
fill in the first module for the NVQ...
today i sat down to the mathematics section...
GCSE statistics, mode, median... mean... range...
but i swear to God, not at GCSE level did we
ever touch upon the: estimating the mean
of a frequency group...

e.g. the sequence already rearranged
to find the median:
   11, 15, 17, 20, 20, 28, 32, 39, 46
to find the interval?
   range: 46 - 11 = 35 ÷ 3 = 12 ergo...

groups   freq.   mid-point    f x m-p
11-22        5           16.5             82.5
23-34        2           28.5             57
35-46        2           40.5             81

Σ(freq) = 9
Σ(fxm-p) = 220.5
      estimated mean of a freq. group is therefore:
25...

i don't remember doing this sort of statistics
at GCSE level, it has taken an NVQ qualification
to look at this...

mind you, my mathematics was a bit rusty...
but i'd rather spend a Saturday evening doing this
than... said above example...
dealing with people i don't want in my life...
who know perfectly well that they're not
compatible with it: too boot...

- **** me... it was such a joy learning about
compound interest too...
FV = P(1 + I)ᵀ

i.e. / e.g.

X invests £3,500, the interest is at 3.5% p.a.
for 6 years, the future value of investment
is therefore:

FV = 3500 (1 + 0.035)⁶
      = £4690.33

the interest?
   I = FV - P
   £4690.33 - £3500 = £1190.33...

i also forgot about the rules of BIDMAS...
brackets first, integers, i.e. 2⁶...
then the division / multiplication
(left to right)... then at the end... the addition /
subtraction...

e.g. 15 ÷ 3 + 3² + (10 + 6³) - (2³ - 2²)
  exactly... even i thought i knew...
it's so welcoming to refresh the simplest of maths,
esp. when you've been hiding in an ivory
tower of writing...
                       5 + 9 + 226 - 4 = 236...

as someone in my mid-30s... i can truly attest:
there's no point seeking wisdom among
one's elders... they're just tired old gits...
perhaps not all, perhaps some Socrates might arise
once more, but they're just like the rest of us,
if not worse...

they behave in the same incredulous ways
as might be expected of any other generation,
esp. the Millennials: yeah, thanks for down-beating "us":
here's this, for not giving us enough slack...
like these "elders" were the ones who fought
in either of the two great wars...
***** please... all they know are proxy wars
and "collateral damage"...
the next time i'll be looking up to an elder
gentleman, he better not mind me drinking a beer
& smoking a cigarette while sitting on
a bench with me... chances are...
he might disappear for a while & come back
with a vintage Rayleigh bicycle!
so we'll talk about Rayleigh bicycles...
bicycles in general... how his son works long hours,
how his grandson has trouble speaking...
thereby i'd comfort him: wait a while...
he'll come through with his speech...
the rest of them can follow suite with the rest
of the generations...

if i could have only posted a rebuttal...
one way traffic system of conversation?
mein gott: i would have never guessed!

such a splendid Saturday night:
no need to go clubbing, pick up low-self-esteem girls...
well... nothing usual there...
i sort of missed out on the whole hook-up
culture... i spent most of the time in a brothel...
once every half a decade:
when a cat irritated me by insinuating she
was ready to be: geared-up when she was
being groomed... i had to fight the whole
******* foundation... scratch a few bricks
with my fingertips before i finally lay my hands
on a naked body of a woman...
that it happens so rarely: i'm all the more thankful for it!
too much... is numbing...
too little, quiet the opposite... prolonging...
invirogating... ****... invigorating...

oh but the fun really began when working out
the schematics of a die (a pair of dice)...
i never knew that the opposite faces added up
to 7... 6 & 1, 3 & 4, 5 & 2...
optical mathematics... just like me riding a bicycle
minding traffic: unconscious spatial coordination,
but in this version: more concentrated...
                 3

1                            5
       2                             6

                  4

that's a cube, by the way... i have left out
the lines of enclosure...

or the following schematic, reg. 3D objects...
within the confines of algebra, standardised by X
to denote space & count...

plan, front, side... in this instance, variations of front?

       X                      X                    X
X X X               X X X             X    X
X X X X            X X X            X X X X

lego blocks... Danish bricks... something or other...

for my meagre efforts, for everything that doesn't
associate itself with the genius of algebra,
or conjuring up... a E = MC²...
after all... even if i did...
there would be an Oppenheimer with his
reflection from the Bhagavad Gita...

well **** me, at least it's a welcome break from
"solving" a sudoku...
eh... it's almost like looking for a median...
it's as "complicated" as linguine doesn't
represent spaghetti... savvy?

what a Saturday night! but i was rewarded,
for my meagre efforts...
storm Arwen brought... accents of snow...
oh those ballerinas, pirouetting...
how i missed them, not enough of them
for the sleeping corpus to even mention them,
not enough snow for snowmen,
for snowballs... not enough for any proof of snow:
you must have been awake from midnight of
the 27th of November through to the 3am of
28th of November to notice these ballerinas...

you must have also acknowledged:
the night sky is more beautiful since the return advent
of the moon, i don't blame him for ******* off
to the southern hemisphere: looking for winter months...
i welcome his return...
finally the night sky makes sense:
since his return...
all the future worlds of unexplored constellations...
the nights have become... eye-piercing gladness bound,
chained even!

finally the cold is here, what i'm most comfortable in,
to reflect the skin i imbue...
winter is the most alive season for me...
almost anyone can share
the taste for summer... esp. at the "riddle"
of the equator...
oh the northern splendours,
how i adore this cold... if i could i could spend each
night in the forest sieving through
the last, fallen, autumnal leaves...
for scouting for a height of scent invested it...
sweetness of decay, come winter...
freshened by the absence of insects...

also, recently... i've been talking to this girl...
i'm 35... she's 50...
rarely can i compliment a woman for...
finding new music i might like...
it happened once...
i was 21 she was 18... she introduced me to...
in extremo & Дельфин...
i tried introducing her to GONG...
& King Crimson...
                             well... "**** happens"...
but this girl, introduced me to...
HALOCRAFT... Greek instrumental band...
i never felt so... kissed by a warming of a tide...
i think i introduced her to something of my own...
she probably heard of the bands already,
girl for now, woman already...
beside that: a dream to be had...
i can't remember when a woman would influence my
listening diet... music used to be such a private affair...
how would i break away from listening to too much medieval
music...
i sort of suggested... your suggestion
is almost synonymous with hammock's: kenotic...
no, not boards of canada... or 65 days of static...
that's too post-rock...
or even:
godspeed you! black emperor: F# A# ∞...

i guess my "consolation" comes without regrets...
i can't look up to my elders,
i don't have any contemporaries...
the best bit of advice i ever learned
was from Alexander Dumas:
they best advice anyone can give anyone is...
to not give any advice to begin with...
i practice this rigorously...

i can't look up to older people like prior generations
might have...
lechery riddle old ****-wits...
time moves with me...
there's nothing to look up to!
two failed marriages... this that & the other...
i'm glad to have not failed in marriage...
it didn't take me two ******* takes
to realise my failures...
i learned it the first time prior to engaging
in a single one!

perhaps that's why the old sod blocked me...
he failed twice,
i am: highly unlikely to fail just once...
maybe he was afraid of... himself...
mostly people fear others... not because
they can see themselves in others...
rather: they are finally able to see
themselves: in themselves...

                  don't you think?
whatever you might be "thinking"...
i might thinking of "thinking"... to begin with,
this sorry-***-tale of 8 winds
& a sqaured number of sorrows...

            i can't remember the first time, the last time,
when a woman's recommendation of her music
taste appealed to me: appeased me...
such a rare event... it must be celebrated!

storm Arwen came, i can't cycle around my vicinity,
no matter... she brought with her
an accent of snow...
winter is here: the night sky is reclaimed by
both moon & constellations...

alles gut: reicht
dies alle gut: ist genug...      
    
       dies ende:
                               anschließend somit weit!

better start off with comentramitising
humanity beyond the mere
denotation of: animal...    
    I really don't see, how these mammals,
are desperately seeking
a reptilian status of ontology,
hiding behind empirical facts...
(more like robo-reptiles)...
quiet honestly, the "contradiction"
of a whale being an aquatic-mammal,
a walrus mother will
spend 3 godawfuly long years
with its offspring...
     fair play to the psychotic
tarantula mother...
        exceptions are somehow
the glue to bind the middle...
                but these mammals
in a reptilian guise?
    the wolf in sheep clothing
metaphor is evidently out-dated...
somehow talking down to
intuition is what gave birth to
trivia, and so little carpentry to
compensate a gaping dawn...
        which, for so e reason,
can't be brushed off with a yawn...
    the spectacle of finding rhyme,
but no couplet,
  the reality of:
if humanity was seeking a categorical
shift from mammal,
to lizard... hence ***** latex...
evidently the monogamy oddity
of birds, akin  to swans...
those half mammal half reptile
trans-genus mohicans on
storks... (you sure trans-genus?
tree... branch, root,
      that ******* bit in the middle)...
notably not all animal behaviours
have been incorporated...
        David meets Mustafa and Ali...
aye aye Icke...
   not exactly a big fan,
here & there...
               revising the telegraph?
sure sure, lost for words...
life or death strain on... bleh...
output...
                    certain words,
even with a genesis in ancient history,
up to the 20th century were either
like a heartbeat flatline,
or a humming freq. tickling
    the contorts of making mountain
ranges, in replica:
  scaled to an itchy freq.
     of hyper-commas...
         and the rest becomes...
language you will not use to
begin a letter with

               Dear Sir / Madam,

.........................................................­

and ending with:

   Yours faithfully,
     Sincerely yours,
with a prior to Mr. Smith...
**** me the cordiality  
shenanigans under the umbrella
of the Raj...
might as well ended up with
a dyslexia from Calcutta:
     namely a pronounced fertility
"obligation" / gift.

but I still can't fathom
this mammalian luxury of
imitating lizards...
whatever the remains of the once
mighty...
   mind you...
is there geological proof
of a meteor having hit
the earth, and if so, where,
or is this meteor story,
some ******* made-up shortcut
to explaining the big bang?
honest to God I haven't seen
proof of the meteor having
hit earth...
       just because people
can become effective
  in manual labour jobs...
doesn't mean they'll become
th3 reincarnated Brothers Grimm...
or Hans Andersen...

the time when mammals
stopped admiring birds'
monogamy...
       the pure mammalian mother
and the "welfare state"...
the lone beta male...
        and the rest just
bread crumbs from a Sheikh
lapdance in floating Dubai...
   mantis egos...
  black widows...
      grabbing mosquitos by
the testicles wearing boxing
gloves...
        
          I'm not sure whether
to admire th spirit of a lizard,
or whether to wear it on my feet...
oddly enough the pig
(infamous in monotheism of
the southern Welsh)...
i'll eat it, all of it,
including the snout of rich
cartilage...
   and then I'll stretch it's skin
for a pair of shoes...

    pig's head on a goad...
and then do the imitation
tongue through a V with
the addition of a piggies snorkling
in giggling suffocation.

so she write this article, this amanda
foreman,
   a historian and with four girls
and one boy that's almost the fifth and
i'm wondering:
god, where has this headache come from
where is the man?
                life's too perfect to seem
to rhyme, or worth wasting your time
remembering some obscure Versailles verse
worth a shining ****'s worth of
a crown readied for a one-night stand...
**** me, a five+ female household,
i hope these muslim martyrs wishes what
they got themselves into...
   the true martyrs have three entry
points...
           mouth, vaginal, ****...
            if you can't spot the true martyrs
i'll tell you about asking the watermelon man,
or herbie hancocks, or in comparison
by ol' joe...
      treating his quasi-alzheimer stories
like your favourite jazz standards...
herr bitebonbon, dresden, auschwitz,
and some other memories:
  a drowning man will cling to a razor blade
to stay afloat, like any old man:
what bugs him now is not being sad,
but being foregetful...
he replays the rubric every day:
he says:
sure, i'm dead already:
but i want to remember myself dying!
   old people and their jazz standards of memory,
i am old, i feel old,
   oh ma'h feel'ah rob'eh m'on...
   patois or 'alf the pitied peshawar mamí son...
lumberjack my *** were 'ere bootleg
a stump of wood mamí sis...
  ya rite?
           *** we boss the 9,2,3,oh,5...
and call that a freq.,
  man that boy to a prrrrrristine:
shakin' m'ah timbers floating a-high...
man, sum tim' the talk ain't talk
it's called: scare-alley-cat-talk
feelin' a gush of **** talk-ji
  of an incubus toying with ya
little mums' crisp clear elijah of buttock
say in: **** as smooth as
a mouth slicking a rota of a hooplah...
talk cool: play the dumb infant...
next time you know:
   yo be talkin' to mama bear an
pleading for her Mississippi pancakes...
**** you not...
             she a one woman with
a five daughter brothel...
good lucky lucky luke if there's any
eager...
                last time i checked:
neither word, nor piano nor horn earned
****...
        just a nice ref. to: ooze...
  like washington's monologue in
fences didn't earned him oscar:
but a director's role none the less...
lady guesses to choose...
and her choice is always wrong
while her guess is always good...
          my, why a mighty site these days:
a man that stays at home becomes
a better cook than a woman,
who isn't all too eager to enter the outside world...
there's always the idea of a death by
a grizzly bear and i think of entering
a bear enclosure in the danzig zoo...
  and the little bear that ate my cardigan button...
and the bear mama...
      god, i love that memeory,
because it's so unreal that it's real because
it happened and my mind became
a ******* ******* trickster thinking
that my faculty of memory didn't dig
that far back...
         the child always remains with the man
that the child always was,
   but the child never became,
and the man who always imagined the child
becoming the man he is,
never said to the man un-becoming the child:
you were never this until "i" became you,
and "you" un-became me.
30+ hours wide awake and i'm still
trying to succumb to falling asleep
to fidgeting...
                        sure, nice trick, juggle three
oranges... then more into the iron league
of juggling three watermelons my
dear, common man.
         classical music acted upon the same
jerking off technique
     that excess rock did to solo guitarists...
chopin was a ****** on guitar...
he had no rhythm man...
            why do i know this?
the japanese, those wannabe white-ohs
pretend to be chopin...
they ******* ski-jump to boot!
                    chopin had no style because
he had no rhythm...
actually liszt ****** off the most,
smoked the most cigars and prematurely
******* with the most number of lovers...
    i really feel for that poet who cried himself
to sleep seeing him "perform"...
           you can solo the ******* want,
but the only rhythm on piano came with jazz...
i hate ******* for their lack of appreciation
of jazz... i hate to be a white guy telling them:
hey... jazz over class every day...
  you people, yes: YOU PEOPLE
ABANDONED JAZZ IN A MATTER OF
AN AMNESIAC TRYING TO REMEMBER
A DISTINGUISHING ASPECT BETWEEN
A T-REX AND MARC BOLAN!
how can you just give up rhythm piano,
the democratic soloing of each instrument
in a band in a matter of what,
20, 30, 40 years?
     LOSERS!
      rhapsody of the nincompoop...
hit the trends you ******, with your
nike airs and your shaaq attaq?
  canary in a colemine?
how 'bout a ****** smiling at me?
how about: pearly whites in a colemine?
talk kit-kat chunky pale white boy:
i start talking ivory...
                     hey: if the black guy ain't
the canvas of what i'm about to x-ray
i don't know why he shouldn't find his
root in the skin in the tongue in Swahili
so we can keep it neutral and not so,
******* lazy: english, keeping up with
post-colonialism Kardashians' shenanigans...
come on... they left sonny trashed nodding
at the piano: just one more note,
just one more note...
          boom... crescendo and the death's head
gravity pulled the gracious ***** down.
it's just a shame that they gave up
on jazz so quickly,
                   and turned to white *****
gloryhole ******* - which must imply:
Ethiopians in Japan...
              hey... you tell me:
last time i heard i heard the whale was
mammal, and that there was the Eskimo...
pop doesn't really bother me right now;
you left sonny clark nodding to his death
thinking he was falling asleep at the piano!
NOW... ******... BLEACH ME...
I ******* DARE YOU!
robert johnson didn't meet his fate
at the crossroads through a jealous middle
class white girl either...
given the times, being a white guy:
i guess that's also my fault...
oh look... there flies the cuckoo:
and here's the nest.

Nations  arose after the days of Peleg,
in the legendary story of Babel,
which
does have a present presence on the surface,
of the after Babel yon der myth of us
we the sapience augmented common sensed band,
single-sideband, of course, if you can cut the antennae,
to this old freq,
radioman entertainment zone, post
pasts unbelieved arizen
as we see around about us

we the beings thinking we were put here,
by no will of our own,
okeh? Hard for me to agree, for
I was a self-willed child, on the earth of 1954,
made unspoil-able, by my measure, sould,
so whatever I touch prospers,
it does not turn to gold, but time,
precious years
in days
proving once more, the way of life
remains reproof of instructions,
glitches gitinin, gremlins ist-hextical real messages,
say measure twice, cut once, keep plenty
of spare teleo-smores, say again
- whisper- find the answer -

DID is the strategy, not the disability.
Gitcheractagethah, adam henry….haul ***

Call the cops. I shot the sheriff.

Renegade boomers, eh? You seen some, h'eabouts?

Hunter people, no-sense talk babblers, yon der here
we come
sons of them guns was left.
Yep, ***** head on an old man in vietnam t'day,
tells a story told since ******'s,
time, at the briefest,
least heated
hate
instance of one once main flow, recirculating as the water
remembers,
all this did happen, parts of all of us were here,
in this moment, relative to you.

The entire creation groans in travail awaiting…

wait a minute.
we did do this, as a whole. See, besides knowns lost,
for their use in con structing the destructive idea given
Tubal-cain.
The enthrallment of Tubal-cain, you may imagine,
progressed with the reiteration of the father's curse on cain,

the signal emanating from the seed that knows the cost of dying.

Cain and Able, well, we have a few ways that tale makes the sense.
Have no fear, all that is past understanding, it cannot crush you.
Commoners hold the common sense, rule of reality.
Peace outward.
The commons are in fine shape,
fret not, we got some old peacemakers smoking flower,
blowing smoke up monstrosity's assine suggestion that I die.

[To the captain and her staff, thanks for the inspiration]

You see what happened is
I no longer find myself unique
a "freq", as the musical genius known as Pharrell Williams
would so delicately put it
I've conformed,
pressed by life's pressures and expectations
I've trained myself to believe it's the only way to achieve.
Funny because back in the day,
I took part of a program that was designed to show you a way,
Step by Step until you reached success.
All thanks to a woman named Janet,
I'll never forget her or the staff she formed to help us grow.
Wherever you are, enjoying your time with family and friends,
I want you to know that your impact was beneficial.
Along the years, I've come to realize how truly grateful I am
to have been raised the way that I was.
Every time I reach this state of focus I realize how much I want to give back.
You gave a kid who simply enjoyed looking at the night stars,
a sense of direction,
and friends,
some of which, to this day I continue to call,
family.
A home away from home,
filled with people who loved to get me out of my comfort zone
For that, I am truly thankful.
Although this family has somewhat spilt up
I want you to know
the kids that you fought for,
talked to,
even gave a lift home,
the ones you helped achieve their goals,
for all the kids who rebelled,
just to come back say sorry and ask for help,
just know at the end of the day it was all appreciated
because we are better off because of you all.
So again Thank You Janet
and the staff of our time.
You are appreciated! :)

Signed,
James Desire