Ich kann die Liebe ,die ich für dich habe, in jeder Sprache erzählen
Ich kann deine schönen Augen in jeder Sprache erzählen

Du bist schweigsam
Du bist einsam
Aber ich habe dein Herz geliebt

Ich kann die Liebe ,die ich für dich habe, in jeder Sprache erzählen
Aber ich kann dir meine liebe nicht sagen
Weil ich weiß dass du mich nicht liebst

Du wirst diese Geschichte nicht lesen glaub ich aber du kannst  das übersetzen. Ich habe dich so sehr geliebt.
Ich vermisse dich so sehr jetzt.
Ich weiß dass ich nicht ein guter Mann  bin.
Komm zurück zu mir.
Ich denke das wird eine schwere Zeit ohne dich zu sein.
Mein Teufel ist  da. Du hast den schon gesehen und hoffentlich kannst du mir in eine gute Licht anzusehen.
Hoffentlich. Wirst du mich nicht hassen.

where to begin? hmm? where to: begin?
certainly can't begin with: although...

      to me: it seems that Islam has sleepwalked
into modernity...
or rather: Islam: the pinnacle of the medieval
world, the envy of the medieval world,
that once upon a time glory of escapism
from the encroachment of ontological Darwinism
of a loss of free will: of determination

how did i stress it? with a ś or a š...
    this current veneer we call civilization
yet the reductionist in me pointing at the backlog
of suppressed behaviours...
if Islam is submission
then Christianity is synonymous with repression...
both religions are on a -mission...
yet pumping all that monetary dough
into Dubai: subsequently neglecting
the seemingly odious ***** colony of Gaza...

let's throw words against the wind...
let's throw them...
let's forget the Cartesian model
with that hyped focus on "us" being thinking
creatures...
let's play on the res extensa dynamic:
i have channeled my res extensa away from
discovering the bilingual pitfalls of schizophrenia
channeling them toward an A.I.
distinguishable from an algorithmic search
engine to something: very much personal...

Islam sleepwalked into modernity...
why is it such a surprise that we find Muslims
so barbaric, untamed, unwashed,
unfathomable?
                      do we? or don't we?
well... living in a Protestant country with
a superiority complex...
it's only when a Muslim interacts with
a European Catholic,
or a Goan Catholic...
     a near usurper of the faith: a Wasim...
a Mustafa... i work with Muslims...
am i Islamophobic: is that really the trajectory
of fear?
i would consider Islamophobia the only
phobia with some rationality behind it...
a term as abused as
calling someone a ******, a racist, a pedohpile...
but in the same vein:
applying the term Islamophobia
to... describe what? exactly?

         my fear has been churned and come
out my **** as nothing more than contempt...
why? all these stresses at work
to allocate 15min of prayer time:
when i know, dutifully: that pretend Muslims
abuse these 15min and extend them to 30min,
an hour... to do much less than pay diligence
to prayer...

reimagine the dynamic of a Muslim
with a Catholic or an orthodox "Christian":
Protestants take it upon themselves
to take their jokes seriously...
protestants... **** me... where to begin?
catholics don't take their faith as seriously
as the protestants their their non-faith so, seriously...
esp. in England...

but this is not what i was going to pay diligence to:
i have the unusual "luck" of having
a terrible surname...
like ******, or Stalin... something to be made fun
of: because it's not a Rothchild: probably...
no legacy...
Elert... and i've heard it enough times to finally
make a retort when a Hindu... usually a Hindu
jokes about it being equivalent to being alert...
as i've explained...
there are missing letters in my surname:
so it is easier to pronounce for the English speaker...

i've been called a German enough times
to realise: well... might as well start learning
the language and live up to people's expectations...
since the letters in my surname (that are missing)
are:       SCH...

    scholastic schooling scooter
    chop shoot... chaser...
    scholastic:                       school...

school...               scold? school.
school...
               chase... chop... school...
kaput! kappa!

               it's actually ESCHLERT...
but do you think, for a moment I would get a:
eślert out of it? echo sierra charlie hotel lima echo romeo tango
tangerine rambo essay lambda hatchling chaser
samoa essay?

there was once upon a time a place
of origin for illiterate people in the slavic tongue
of Polish mid 20th century:
illiterate people yes: but dyslexic, half-baked?
it's the nature of this zunge -
you write gnome but then say (g)nome...
you write psychology but then say (p)sychology...
ecology -chology
    but then chop chew churn chatter...
cha cha cha...

            i do feel for the dyslexics: it's unnaturally
natural for their existence to be a byproduct
of the English toong... tong... ton-glue
ton-gloo-é...    James Joyce: Finnegans Wake:
i'm coming for your obliviousness... to the spectacle
missed...

яxвeй (that's my cyrillic interpretation of
the sacred name of the Hebrews for the deity
of letters - no other deity is so closely associated
with letters as the Hebrews' 'un...
the Muslims tried... tried... in vain...
the 19 letters...

the "mysterious" Muqatta'at

Alpha Lambda Mu:
               alm...
shapes... Arabic, Hebrew, Greek, Latin...

ا ﻡ ل

        lma:

                    מ ל א

α  λ.  μ

                                     to play with letters...
akin to я and ñ...
         for an a to be served up hidden: je chowa:
he who hides letters...
  or women...
mind you: that 72 ****** paradiso promise?
you ever think that those 72 virgins are only gifted
unto the martyrs with the strict modus operandi
that they remain, that they: REMAIN virgins for all
eternity?
i can imagine being gifted 72 virgins in an afterlife
but only under the strict guidance of ensuring
they are guarded: that *** and the juices do not make
it into the conundrum of heaven...
otherwise, what?! a little Solomonic harem?
good conversations... almost teasing being a father-figure...
the patriarchal rigidness of abstaining
from ***...
reward my ***... polluting heaven with
this pornographic Arabic frustration at
the polygamous order of things...

                chirality: chemistry, i.e. RЯ (ya)
ergo?
  a ye
  a yi
  a yo
  a yu

             working from R...
ꟼ         (for ye)
                              𐐒 (for yi)
⅃ (for yo)
                                                             ꟻ (for yu)

best i procrastinate like this: while stewarding
the household (cooking, cleaning, washing)
         than try to complicate what's already simple...
as much as modernity fashions itself on reaching
some sort of overarching pinnacle...
as much as i am lied to about people's literacy
levels: most of it is untrue...
   sure: people can read: advertisements...
but that added piquant of a reading meditation
a novel?       sorry:           but hardly...

and perhaps that is why i invest so much time
into writing something akin to this...
if the Vatican was founded upon an exclusivity,
if Judaism was founded on exclusivity...
i find Islam slightly worrying:
in that respect that Islam wants to be the Communism
of theology... a quasi-Babylon...
which, oddly enough: it is becoming...
why do Muslims want, so eagerly: to invite proselytes
into their dommena?
   the Catholics akin to the Hebrews are stouch
opponents to converts...
wouldn't anyone treat converts suspiciously:
none of this: wolves in sheep clothing?
what about if the only tactic to combat Islamist
"****" esque fetishes would be to infiltrate
                 the religion and convert ("supposedly")?

i'm starting to think i'm the most powerful man
in the world... how delusional of me...
it's only because... i'm in love...
and that's half of my worries relegated to
the category of: non-existent...
i'm in love...
       and now my only battle is with mortality...
once you're in love:
that's the only "thing" to worry about...
ich bin verliebt...
ich werde geliebt...
     ich bin verliebt...
         ich werde geliebt...

so what do we have planned?
    Kew gardens, tick...
gerbils' want for some funky Chinese bakery
off L'eh-chester Square... tick...
Saracens vs. Harlequins at Tottenham Hotspur... tick
the Phantom of the Opera a the Queen's Theatre... tick...
Mozart's Magical Flute at the Coliseum... tick...
Stonehenge and Bath... tick...
Canterbury? or better Cambridge with
the gondolas?
           oh... and going to the cinema for Dune part deux...
well...
              a precious waste of a hour's
                   worth of day... doodling this -
now just enough time to make my father lunch
for tomorrow and play with some pierogi dough...
since i already have the farsz.

sie wurde
zum alltagsgegenstand
geliebt und gehaßt
zeichen schlechter zeiten
und beschränkungen

von manchen
    gleichmütig angenommen
    als neues mode accessoir
für andere
     ein bedrohliches symbol
     für vorschriften von oben
für viele
     nur ein notwendiges übel
    das wieder verschwinden wird

wir müssen sicherlich
unsere reflexe
beim anblick maskierter personen
überdenken

   zumindest in unseren breiten
   waren masken meist kennzeichen
   von banditen und räubern

nun tragen sie die guten
und die bösen nicht
aber … wie sicher können wir sein?

es ist eine ernste herausforderung
aus den bewegungen der augenbrauen zu ermessen
ob du einem freund begegnest

oder nicht

.as ever, some memorable lines bumping like atoms in my head, and instead of a pen and paper handy, or a keyboard, all i have is a mouth full of toothpaste, shampoo in my hair, a Popeye's squirm, one hand washing my genitals and the other holding the shower (handle), replying aloud to "the third person": what?!

... and after that? a whole array of punctuation
marks: drying yourself,
remembering the last conversation
from yesterday,
                 '****, this would be a waste
of a **** fine bottle of amber-glug...'
                            (not that it matters)...
'this might as well be a dial-up modem!'
  again: punctuation marks...
    putting your pinky finger into
the pinky end of a glove to dry out your
ears before putting in the headphones and
plugging in...
   what will it be today...
   jazzy cosmopolitan feel....
or airy, haunting, indie cosmopolitan
nostalgia -esque -esque of a missing
   prefix?
              ah...
   (i still find horror movie soundtracks
the most ideal lullabies...
   forget about Strauss dying
                              with a lack of
     contentment at not being able to write
a serious piece of work...
  well... if you're going to be a waltz-poodle
for the Habsburgs...
   you're going to be a waltz-poodle
till your fingerprints are no more...
   and you die a death by macaroons...
in a room filled with: white lilies...
as a joke: Strauss, waking upon
the deathbed:
    any of you ******* put those
chrysanthemums near me! i swear!
    better throw some fallen autumn leaves
from the park! i've never encountered
the scent of a rotting fern...
but these flowers just about do it!)
      ha!
this would have been a waste of a good
bottle of whiskey...
why didn't i encounter this prior...
   toiling in what ended up being something
of a cough medicine in terms
       of: well... something or other.
- unless i remember what it was...
    however many pockets in a day...
Nietzsche and pockets...
         or rather the film starring jim carrey,
dark crimes...
         and... yeah... that filter layer...
that something like this happens...
   but then turned into a movie...
     well... that doesn't exactly hide what
is made into an elaborate fiction:
working from a very base beginning...
like metallurgy...
      reality is the base ore... crude...
  un-rehersed...
  until it is subjected to... refinement...
  but that isn't the point:
       what is Heidegger's
    dasein in relation to journalism
in relation to post-journalism as in:
the film industry?
       which deviates from a mere "existence"
(out of every instance...
  my variety of ex-instance [E, A...
O... what's the difference?]
     there's an insistence) -
   and becomes... presence...
            or rather...       concern...
otherwise known as: the murky wood...
synonymous a variety of
other psychoanalytical metaphors...
yet in a film like 4.5/10 IMDb starring
jim carrey (well **** me!
    6.5 IMDb nicholas "8mm" cage!)
       that... dasein aura that journalism
cannot capture:
   as if we're supposed to be repeatedly
shocked by what "doesn't" happen:
when it clearly happens...
        en masse journalism:
frankly? i prefer the anaesthetic prior
to my tooth being drilled...
                     alternatively:
the film industry has made me
dasein ******...
                                      like gaining
access to a third eye that's in
the back of my head:
   and a ego-"personna"
           that capitulates to the role
of puppeteer:
   whereby the cognitive essence of
"thought" is: third person...
                   or... akin to the movie
get out:
                  always that one shutter-close
prior to: no other eventuality.
- besides that!
   already criticism:
nagging nagging, pampering
to... der geliebt leßer...
                     my ***: to some
coffee-mug "whining rhyming" poetics...
- but sure as ****...
you can make a fine, fine cauliflower
soup... as long as you add fried
   chouriço sausage to it...
  (χoυριςo) - which has clearly
entombed an orthographic error:
            correction - χoυρισo -
yes... every roman in italics:
is just as well (in appearence) greek -
but guess what!
   ever see a Greek write Greek?
i mean: handwriting...
                    even i inquired...
crux?

                Υ                        Ν

- is that an N?
- no... that's a U...
- "huh?!"

mind you: they do look pretty similar,
and i am more used to Vv(5)...
                                      ν / υ

and that was a real life scenario...
back on the 23rd of November 2018...
Warsaw...
     and giving directions
to get from Modlin (aiport)
               to Warsaw (central)...

still... a whole jar of coffee...
  and thankfully there's double cream in
the house... at 30% fat...
what coffee isn't a Hollywood coffee?

- and then there's that...
thought from the shower...

           honest to god...
give me the 1950s / 1950s-esque
   technicolor movies...
   eastmancolor - or whatever you want
to name them...
that very specific tinge...
acrylic...
   and you can hide all the CGI
and all the phosphorescent neon
             80s optic-**** festivities...
and those panoramic one shot
scenes... where a man on horseback
travels from one end of the panorama
to the other: and there is no cutting
             involved: no sub-movie editing...

mind you:
i'm still trying to find the sort of person
that could epitomize
   being more inclined to read
comic books... than watch a movie...

  coffee and cream... coffee and cream...
and a wintry afternoon.

ich
sterben
     vor das
schwarz
   kreuze auf
                             weiß!
geliebt jerusalem!
          heideheben
  zu kuss!