Which algorithm is going to understand me
understand sentiment behind what I do
It is coded for catching the patterns
For them we are just there
to generate the data to process
What insights will they create
about me when I'm just the outlier
they will remove me to get cleaner results
Generalise the problem
that it won't cater to me
technology is not the slave
they make us dance to their tune
We change, as much as they advance
Develop worse habits
change our routines
from when we were in the more happier place
to a place which comes with waves of sadness.

Philosophies generalise the feelings of love. Too many people talk about how to feel. Famous people give quotes out like Kleenex and we 'the beloved' faint under the weight of them. Each awakened person seeking the truth from those who have experienced every human fear rationally. Love begets love. Hatred begets hatred. My mind begets my mind.  I am like a heat seeking Labrador, seeking the truffles in the forest. Simple love appears to be simple. Nevermoreso that which a mother can give to a child. Even a child that doesn’t appear to be wanted or loved; the one that hides in the depths of our belittled subconscious. Rejectionment is a term that I have coined from the philosophy of modern society. Abandonment is a drug that we steadily take and fail to acknowledge the buzz of, buying more 'things' to fill a anxious fear filled void. We are the lovers, we are the thinkers, we, are the walkers of this earth; unimaginable freedoms we destroy.

How can one love oneself amongst the unimaginable pathetic existence we carve out, we bleed out and we live? I am because I feel. I follow because I was led, I fall because my feet catch me. I love, I love because this is what Disney stories and fairytales have taught us. I fear the heart that beats so deeply within this body. Detached, I feel from reality, because the stark realisation is too heavy to bear. That some lover will not think i am quite the picture of lover; that i do not feel to love myself equally. Yet I carry my arms; I have ammunition strapped to my chest; those that get clear have to sign treaties and pacts. Linguistics fail me; they speak unapproachable truths. A meaning is much better conveyed in silence, without looking into one another’s eyes.

Heart, passion, love – this is what I have to give – money, reliability, profession, friendship; this is all learnt. True love from ones’ mind is a given. Fear is learnt; hurt is learnt; embarrassment is learnt. Stories I have, tales I can tell, counsel I can give. I am NOT finished. I am NOT done.Thank-ing you. Flying free as a bird in flight; it's inside my soul - but my body is wrapped around capitalist chains – should, must, need, want; pleases, thankyous – a vicious cycle to make oneself feel worthy of the very being we fail to allow ourselves to believe in. We are not pretty, we are not amazing, we are not worthy unless we allow ourselves to be justified by something outside of ourselves.

So what can I do? Having an indomitable tower of strength inside this soul, face the world, against bombardment, against attainment and loss, figures and acceptance, congratulations and detachment. Music clears me, air clears me, understanding clears me. The world clears me. You clear me. Love, blinds me.  See this, these words? This me thinking, this is me feeling, this is me. Love me, just me, I dare......

On the bus I heard a fellow decrying Americans at war,
Said all were yellow bellied cowards,
I found this most distasteful,
Wanted to bite him , to lash him with my tongue,
To unwrap a box of disrespect,
Tell him not to generalise,
To speak out about causing such offence,
From discussion of cowardice,
He digressed to general sundry,
The price of fish and wages,
Along with the price of beer,
Felt sorry for the mousy wife,
Who never marked his card,
To get a word in edge ways would have been extremely hard!
I am an English woman thought this so unfair!
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

I live in the moment;
Running freely, half-cocked;
A poofteenth of an idea
And I'm off with the pixies;
Chasing my tail, trying to nut-out
A niggly-niggardly issue unresolved,
That stumps or annoys the Earth's
Best representatives in a speciality.
Whether I'll end at an adequate
Conclusion is anyone's guess.

Bonus After-thoughts -->

I'm programmed
to generalise for
simplicity's sake.

I'm FREE
I'm FINE
And this FUGGLY-DUCKLING
Could possibly be DIVINE
(OR Delusional - Take your pick).

MEN
Hello! I am a men
Some say I am strong
Some say I am weak
Some say I am a priest
But some say I am a ******
Some say I am cunning and wise
My question is why do you generalise?

A man is your Father,
A man is your brother,
A man is that person who binds the family together
He works hard to give you a bread
But the question remains, Is he adequately fed?

Equality is something dearer to us
Without equality we won't rest
In this quest Men are also those who supports you in your protest
Yes, against inequality we must all rise
But,the question remains why do you generalise?

A man is someone who usually don't cry
How rough the situation is and how much life tries

A man seems very tough
But his heart also pours with affection and love

A man's love is not similar to you
But his heart is filled with love and you can never say him adieu

A men and women cannot be separated with their race,color and structure,
They complete each other because they are the children of the very mother nature

So,now I have a small advice
Please! don't generalise
Respect men as much as you can
Because you're father is a man and he is an angel straight from heaven

She waves by, like the glittering sunshine ,
Smile as enchanting as ever,
Makes me wonder and ponder why,
Why Some are just too deep for the world.

All qualities encompassed, vibrant as a color scheme,
Never left a stone unturned,
But humbler than anyone witnessed by me,
As some are just too deep for the world.

From the outside , she is cold,
Her depth is not seen by many,
Its only when u realise her heart’s of Gold,
That some are just too deep for the world.

Why to generalise, ill blatantly say,
You are a friend , people wish to keep hold of,
So no matter change, come time what may,
Coz its u who is just too deep for the world

And I can sometimes feel myself
spiralling down the stairs of your heart
Slowly drawing away from the affection
we once intertwined our fingers to
Like,
Is anything ever enough for you?
My deepest fear was by far losing you
but at this point in time I think
my deepest fear was actually losing myself
through loving you
I drew a picture of my self portrayed as an attachment
beside your being on canvas
That was my first mistake
Being an attachment and not an asset
Being an attachment and not a soulmate
Being an attachment instead of being a part of you
You let me grow onto your skin like fungus
refusing to scrap away from your abuse
in belief that that’s how we’re supposed to be handled
You left me mistreated as if abandonment was the definition of my name
And although I may seem like the stupid one here
the reality is that I was only blind
You played all your cards right
with the all so attractive face
I saw your lips constantly promise me lies
and that’s when I knew for sure that
the three special words that are most often used,
are rather quite abused and in many times by you
That it’s people of your replica who
**** out the saucy meaning from pleasures
and scrap away it’s taste
Both when it comes to words
and when it comes to sacrifice
I gave up my purity
for the desire of your heart and
for the feel of your touch
It’s quite sad and rather embarrassing
to realise how mislead I was
A dog, I felt like, astray
and pushed away
with plenty of dismay
when I thought I was okay
And even though I can sit here today
and proclaim a testimony,
my prognostication is the continuous witnessing of acrimony
When women generalise that
‘men are trash’,
it’s sad to know that only a few spoiled the rest
Because it’s true that not all are the same
but once so much has been taken away from you,
it’s difficult to try and stay sane
But now, as I keep
spiralling down the stairs of your heart
Slowly drawing away from the affection
we once intertwined our fingers to,
I’ll always remember that it was not only you
who had the souls of our girls
but rather the influence of the ***** grains
that claimed they had the world in the palms of their hands
when really, all they were taught too
was the misinterpreted identity
of what a dominating male is perceived to be like

Life is more about the heart
than the mind --the brain scientists don't know
enough--they generalise as such suits them-
theories-what theories?  Are they the foe

then, claiming that everything is reason-locked?
if every moment we have to knock on the mind's door and ask:
what should I do next,? we might as well
say good-bye to life forever since that would be an impossible task.

i'm in a bad way, in a really bad way -
i'm sleeping less, i'm eating less,
i'm not thinking about anything but her -
what she's feeling...
i already figured out something:
she's looking for an "engineer" of sorts,
her father was a ca-car mechanic...
my tongue is wondering into blah blah
my blood pressure is shooting
through the roof, i'm getting cramps
in my stomach: butterflies my ***...
well i wish it was a gentle ferris wheel
down there in my guts...
but it's more like a ******* zero gravity
ride... that mad one where if you had
big chunks of cheek on you they'd be
flapping like a bulldog's!
nervous, twitchy, i still have to complete
my qualifications for this job
but... no... oh come on... get out of my head!
i haven't felt this authentically sick
in a long time... i'm rattled... i'm a teenager
again... giddy loved-up fool! fool!
- and that's what i'm saying... i've just done
a Harry Windsor...
                                  what an irony: well no,
there's no ****** irony in any of this!
at 35 you'd think i'd be more sensible,
that i'd listen to advice...
                          but it's not like i was on
the dating market, that i ever dated...
we're just working together... but already
we've been on our first coffee "date"...
and yeah, i paid for it...
                            the kid will most certainly
hate me, parents are leaving
for Jamaica in a week for two weeks...
if she wants to be taken out i'd say:
want to come over? what would you like
to eat? gnocchi, some other pasta?
a steak... you like a curry? oh, you're into Chinese?
you want chairman Mao's red braised pork
belly? i can make that...
what movie you want to watch?
i have hundreds on DVD... what wine would
you like? you'd rather sip some wine
while i put on a vinyl... i have plenty of jazz vinyls...
you're not into jazz... i have some other crap...
scented candles? something stronger
than wine? absinthe, whiskey, cognac?
you want to bring a swimsuit so we can
jump into the jacuzzi.... yeah... it's in the garden...
in a "shed"...
              if i don't get slightly tipsy in the next
hour or so i'm going to be a right ol' wrecking ball...
better: i'll be a nervous wreck...
but at least that's the next few poems taken
care off... because i don't think i'll be writing anything
else about anything else...
oh for ****'s sake... i'm back to listening to some
Roxette and Bon Jovi... what's next?!
you give love a bad name, bad medicine,
watercolours in the rain... fading like a flower
(do you get) exited?
why did i ask for her number? oh, right, i wanted
clarification about how we were coming back
from Oxford and Dan's people-carrier
broke down by Potter's Bar - the clutch gave in,
he was unable to change gears and
the revs were spinning into the region of 4
while going at 20mph...
so she paid for the Uber... went down the most
picturesque windy avenues of the Essex
countryside, via Loughton - places i know from
having cycled down them...
god... i'd love to take her cycling in the summer...
if she would be up to it... have a picnic
in a field... **** in the shade of an oak...
oh: hello La La Land... if i was diagnosed
as a schizoid once before: now diagnose me...
loved up idiot... and it's not like she's some
stunning 20 year old and i'm gagging
to pass on my genes... like i already said...
pass my genes?
oh sure... that ends up well...
by the time i might have a child...
that's 1/2 of me... by the time there are grandchildren
there's only a 1/4 of me left... 1/8, 1/16, 1/32 etc.
as much as i am "love" with her...
infatuated? crazed? i'm also thinking about
the inverse ratios... a potential little Frankenstein
monster... my thinking could be passed
on... not the entire, whole narrative...
bits and scraps... well... that implies
a sort of cognitive cloning... there might be a 2/1
of me by the end of it...... then 4/1, 8/1, 16/1 of me...
i guess that's why i started writing...
- and i am so completely terrified imagining that
people might suss me out, figure out that
i have a crush... how much of theoretical
poker do i have to play to supress outright showcasing
my feelings while at the same time continually
making incursions on the charm-front?
- Matt! get your **** together, why are you
perched on the windowsill with your hand
over your mouth!
- conscience? ego? who are you, why such a silly
question?!
so i figured she has an archetypical figure in mind,
like her father, a car mechanic...
oh, sure, sure, i can add some spare parts
to a DIY problem... but i'm primarily a wordsmith...
most Slavs are...
i've already texted her some music recommendations,
"meditation" music... i'm already talking
to her about her son's name, the etymology
of Fredrick... very Germanic, like my second
name, Conrad... blah blah... no... of course
i wouldn't call him merely Fred... lazy-*** English
way of shortening names...
i woke up today and had a thought...
sky... tree... oak... red... sun...
those are absolute nouns...
everything that composes the natural world is
an absolute noun...
since it has no origin from man's creativity...
therefore? i cannot generalise an absolute
noun under the guise of: nothing...
something, anything, everything, or merely: thing...
the sun is not a "thing": it's the sun...
a tree is not a "thing": it's a tree...
the sea is not a "thing": it's the sea...
mountain, goat, dog, cat... rat...
   but... a bed is not an absolute noun...
a chair is not an absolute noun... hell... let's change
that... these are unconditional nouns...
everything born of man is a conditional noun...
why? look at the simple example
of a car mechanic asking an aid for specific tool...
most of the time he asks for the right tool...
but sometimes he's so involved by his work
that his verbal communication is misplaced
by what the eyes see... he might ask for
a thingymajig... he'll use a misnomer supplied
with the comforting words: you get the picture...
yeah... that THING...
socks are things... but dogs are dogs...
the latter are conditional nouns...
since they are not necessarily minded since
they are used... equipped...
i can't be equipped with a tree... or the sea
or the sky...
so she's looking for someone like her father...
well i know how language works...
i already introduced her to the idea of a prefix
and the suffix: omitting the R i asked:
you son's name is merely Fred? not Fredrick?
is it because of the suffix -****?
no, wait... that's actually an affix -ick (come to think
of it)...
so apart from me spamming her with
a playlist... we moved onto favourite people
in history... it was a challenge... Philip II Augustus...
of the Capetian dynasty...
Frederick II Hohenstaufen...
   that experiment he did with the nuns and
what would later become feral mute children...
because he wanted to find out what language
arrived on earth first... the croaking of the crow?
the growl of the tiger?
the snorting trumpet of the elephant?
i'm here... no... i don't recall how we arrived
of ever being reported...
perhaps that's how we keep going...
by a collective amnesia... we have to forget certain
things in order to pursue life per se,
well... at least writing this little "philosophical"
pieces has allowed me to return to some
balance... being loved up is not good to you:
it uses you up... and there are high chances of
being disillusioned... best prepare for the disillusionment...
- i have to calm down and think
about the world, or at least parts of it...
take for example the transgender phenomenon:
so there has been a backlog in metaphysical inquiry..
well, no surprises, the English speaking world
was always oh so, practical, ergonomic...
it's not like the Russian speaking world still
entombed in a Titanic battle with their prescribed
Greek orthodoxy... lunatics galore...
even this whole grammatical game that's currently
being played... sure... i'm game:
my preferred pronouns are... ONE / WE...
that's the royal approach...
as one might add: we greatly disapprove...
the end...
                   since with one, one presupposes
a potential entourage of we...
we implies a magnetism toward a shared
opinion - a quasi-self... while the plurality of a THEY
implies... oh... THOSE basket cases other "there"
in the corner... oddly enough: nothing,
yes... NOTHING is categorised as a pronoun...
since? well... how can it be anything except a noun?
it's not an adjective / quality... you can call something
attributing nothingness: but there are no attributes
of nothingness, thereby you can't treat
nothing as a noun... since... there's NO, THING,
to be allocated a noun-status...
weird... no? that nothing is a pronoun...
so is everything... anything, something, itself...
oh... but the game has already started...
there are so many audacious mouthpieces out there
doing the knitty-and-the-gritty work
with their hormone blockers that...
my two-cents are hardly important...
i guess i just came late to the party...
cool... now that i've ingested enough alcohol to
appear calm, i can go about my business...
now that i stopped feeling all loved up
i can find a chance to refocus my attention
on immediate concerns...
all the better... it's enough for one hurt creature to love
another hurt creature... it's another
to navigate this world...
the world i arrived at... given the current climate...
needs something equivalent to a magic compass...
i don't have that...
i'll scar myself less by not investing any
genes in the pool...
i don't appreciate family politics...
that cut-throat archetypical brother against brother...
no, thank you... these words ought
to be enough... and if they're not:
so be it...

from the mouth of giuseppe belli:
lei se tienghi li gatti a ccasa sua
(missus, keep your sodding cats inside)