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judy smith Feb 2016
On World Hijab Day, which was on February 1, you didn’t have to be a Muslim to wear one. The designated day was first announced in 2013. Founded by activist Nazma Khan, the story behind World Hijab Day is an emotional one which speaks of the bullying, prejudice, physical and racial abuse Khan endured as a young child who migrated to the US from Bangladesh. These unkind imputations were all because she wore a hijab.

Since launching an online store in 2010 to sell hijabs, Khan has received an outpouring of support from hijab-wearing women across the globe who have shared with her their own terrifying stories because of their headscarves.

Today, World Hijab Day is celebrated in 116 countries around the world. Although the declaration received negative criticisms from some who saw it as a “well-financed effort by conservative Muslims to dominate modern Muslim societies,” others respect the day. One such person was New York Assemblyman David Weprin, who in his feature address on World Hijab Day, said: “As the prime Assembly sponsor of the Religious Garb bill in New York State, A2049, I stand with all Americans of faith, regardless of their choice, to wear a hijab, kippah, turban, or cross. All Americans of all faiths should be allowed to freely exercise and display their religious choice without the fear of violence and bigotry.”

Here at home, women’s rights activist and model Naballah Chi has not been quiet about her love and honour for the true meaning of the hijab. In an interview with the T&T; Guardian, Chi explained the meaning of the hijab and why it’s worn.

“The literal meaning of hijab is to veil, to cover, or to screen. Islam is known as a religion concerned with community cohesion and moral boundaries, and therefore the hijab is a way of ensuring that the moral boundaries between unrelated men and women are respected,” said Chi.

She added, “In this sense, the term hijab encompasses more than a scarf and more than a dress code. It is a term that denotes modest dressing and modest behaviour. Wearing the hijab is a commandment from Allah. The majority of Muslim women wear hijab to obey God, and to be known as respectable women.

“The basic requirement of the hijab is that a Muslim woman should cover her head and ***** (chest) and her body. So in the last 30 years, hijab has emerged as a sign of Islamic consciousness and women’s assertion to obey their lord. A woman wearing hijab becomes a very visible sign of Islam.

“The aura of privacy created by hijab is indicative of the great value Islam places upon women. Therefore, hijab is not a symbol of oppression. The hijab does not prevent a woman from acquiring knowledge or from contributing to the betterment of human society. While those who seek to ban hijab refer to it as a symbol of gender-based repression, the women who choose to don a scarf, or to wear hijab, in the broadest sense of the word, view it as a right and not a burden,” she explained.

She said wearing the hijab has given her the freedom from constant attention to her physical self.

“My appearance is not subjected to scrutiny, my beauty, or perhaps lack of. Instead it has been removed from the realm of what can legitimately be discussed,” she said.

Chi comes from a world of beauty pageants where she once felt pressured to put down her hijab in exchange for a crown.

After understanding the true meaning behind the hijab, and why she wore a hijab as a Muslim woman, she decided to design a fashionable collection called Classic Woman—not the conventional headscarf, but rather, beautifully coloured pieces which bear intricate artwork. They can range from embroidery to sequins or even tie-dye. The sky is the limit when she puts her fashionable sense into motion.

Chi said the collection was inspired by both The Great Gatsby and the Renaissance eras of power dressing.

“My collection features designs showcasing the powerful but elegant and well-tailored woman.

Chi Collection’s trademark fabrics are soft, beautiful silks, chiffon, sequins, embroidery and bridal laces. Distinctive attributes are the colours scarlet red, white and black, in keeping with the classic fashion palette and to pay homage to my country as a Trinbagonian designer,” said Chi.

Her collection was launched in November 2015 at the Red Runway Fashion Gala held in Port-of-Spain. The collection will be available for purchase via Chi’s upcoming website.Read more at:www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-2015
Isabelle May 2017
I can't sleep
The horrible news is bothering me
My fellow Filipinos in Marawi
Are being attacked by Maute Group/ISIS
They are burning down the place
The houses, the hospitals, the churches
And if you can't prove that you are a Muslim
They'll take you as a hostage
Those who don't wear hijabs "are taken care of"
Horrible, really horrible
My fellow filipinos there are suffering
Muslims and non-muslims
It's not supposed to be about religion
It's supose to be being people, human
It's suppose to be "humanity"



*"Save me from people of the world" Psalm 17:14

It's horrible, really horrible. How can these people be so cruel?? It's really scary, really scary
Almighty God, I pray for my fellow Filipinos to stay strong amidst this crisis. May we find strength in each other and may you protect each of us from those inhuman people. We pray for peace and unity. Amen
Larry Schug Feb 2019
The white cells,
seemingly not fearful of  
oozing,
festering,
metastasizing,
fear black cells,
wearing hijabs or dreads.
The white cells
are fearful of the brown cells
that **** and process their chickens
and mow their lawns for them.
The white cells fear the red cells
though they like moccasins, canoes,
and wild rice soup,
fear yellow cells
may be smarter than them
so they label them
***** and Chinks.
The white cells  
don’t seem to mind
asphalt-coating,
starlight-stealing,
convenience store sprawl
devouring healthy green cells--
alfalfa cells,
forest cells,
swampy, boggy cells,
black-eyed susan cells.
The Chamber of Commerce
calls it growth,
progress;
but this town
needs a tourniquet,
maybe chemotherapy.
If thine eye offends thee
pluck it out....

War offends
my eye.

All my
senses
defiled
*****
disemboweled
by the
abomination
of war.

My mind
disregards
denigrates
reneges
warps time
destroys values
alters psyches
lays waste
to my
conscience
of hope.

Mine eye offends me
the complicit witness
complacently
ambivalent
turning deaf ears
to groans
of the wounded
wails of the aggrieved
silence of the dead;
shutting doors
to sanctuaries
where refugees
seek safe houses,
locking factories
where men seek work,
level homes
where women nurture,
strafe playgrounds
where children laugh,
raise cities
where people
learn to be human,
immolate mosques
where
God's Children
cry out to the
Beneficent One.

Mine eye offends me,
my gut sickens,
to witness
the slaughter
of innocents
droning on
no angels to save
the million Issac's
savagely smashed to bits
by a Tomahawk's blow.

God's vengeance
escalates
the celestial ledgers
dripping red ink
from excessive
collateral damage,
people reduced
as objects used
to secure a loan
indeed an ARM
on a real time
American nightmare
whose reset rate
is mounting body counts
and massive budget allocations
protecting undisturbed flows
of corporate profits
valued in barrels
of imported blood.

Mine eye offends me
an innocence lost
Veritas vanquished
life is devalued
humanity debased
compassion defunct
empathy a twisted satire
an indelible weakness
incidental hostage
to the torridness
of the lurid play
of savage nations
projecting will,
a devastation
of action.

Mine eye offends me
the message of
sweet Jesus
a way of light
transformed into
biblical justification
agitprop verse
stoking blood lust zeal
for apostate infidels
sons of Abraham's
unworthy spawn,
of Hagar the *****
******* child Ishmael
turned out again
from tribal tents
of an absentee father
from an unfriendly
paternity.

This black *******
an abomination
in the sight of Allah
celebrates
a zeal to ****
unholy disciples
yearning to fill
banana crates
with body parts
draped in
drab Hijabs
decorated with
satanic verses
from a
Holy Quran
carved with
bayonets
of self righteous
Crusaders
armed with rifles
inscribed with
Gospel verses
on deadly gun
barrel stocks
to ramp the passion
of the righteous Crusade
against Godless apostates.

Mine eye offends me
as I witness
the **** of
corporate mercenaries
churning bereaved
Blackwaters
beholden only
to shareholders
gobbling spoils of war
to safely exit
to private vomitoriums
to expunge the excess
of gluttony
only to
quickly return
to engorge themselves
at the public troughs
again.

No constitutional
restraints
save the
strict guidelines
of holy
corporate governance scriptures
ruthlessly enforced with
golden carrots
of multi-million dollar
stock options
and the brutal stick
of shareholders divine right
to quarterly dividends
and above average
equity returns.

Corporate warriors
anointed by
holy oil
proffered
by capitalist shamans
and US Senators
conferring
jurisprudential deferment
on civil law
recusing them from
any behavior
to recognize the humanity
of captive insurgents.

Mine eye offends me,
as the flag
draped coffins
of returning
servicemen
and women
continue to pile
on the boiling tarmac
of Dover Air Force Base.

Tearful salutes,
folded flags
and mournful dirges
of prerecorded Taps
are small compensation for
shattered families,
and a wasted life,
unnecessarily spent,
criminally sacrificed
in a pointless conflict
in service to a lie.

Mine eye offends me
as I watch
my country's soft parade
of growing militarization
xenophobic fear
compelled patriotism
salute and goose step
to the flash of sword
and the sound of guns
and the glittering
medals of valor
adorning the chests
of a nations warriors.

How barbaric
are we?
allocating
overstuffed
apportionment
of weapons
and armories
while
people are
foreclosed
forcing armies
of unemployed
Joads
to ride
en masse on
an Acela Express
to a crowded
poor house
a listless journey
on pock marked
highways
arriving at
dreaded
destinations
to defunct
townships
offering
empty factories
and closed schools.

Screaming in silence
I scratch at my eyes
with numbed fingers.

Matthew 18:9

Music Selection:
The Doors, The Soft Parade

Oakland
3/17/10
jbm
T Nov 2014
it is an injustice
and when it happens
your fists clench
teeth grinding against each other
as you bite down hard
and hold back the voice that
they've already silenced
you see
there are three kinds of people that the world loves
four kinds if it's a good day and the sky is blue
five if you squint
six if you close your eyes
seven if you never listen to the screams
eight if you stop being able to feel sorry
for the dead boys in the street
and the girls whose hijabs are starting
to resemble bandages on top of war wounds
like their existence is something that
some enemy with more guns than compassion
can't bear to see
but there are three kinds of people that the world loves
the rich
the white
the cishet male
it seems if you have money
then you get what you need
if you skin is the color of cream
you get what you want
if your body matches the on/off binary
that some dead white guy built up
in a desparate attempt at stifling
a world he didn't understand
then you get safety
if your love can fit neatly
in teh confines of a church
whose god is more disappointment
than righteous anger
because the time for anger was years ago
the time for anger was dead men and women
people with stars in their front windows
and people with triangles on their breastpocket
the time for anger
was a young girl
staring at a young girl
as her parents threw her to the dogs
as her flesh was torn for teh sake of blessings
as her body was cursed for the sake of god
as her existence was removed
erased
ignored
for teh sake of someone else's comfort
you see the world is a bad place
full of battles that no one wants to fight
full of wars that no one wants to see
and you will stand some day
in front of a sea of people
and try to profess yourself a prophet
you will proclaim your news good
you will paint peace across your forehead
like that will distract from the blood on your hands
but by your silence they will know you
by your soft steps
your late entrance
your blank face at the sight of their dead children
they will recognize you for what you are
and their fists will clench
their teeth will grind against one another
as they bite down hard
and hold back a voice that they
that you
already silenced
shireliiy Nov 2015
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Jessica Hanna Jun 2020
These drapes are heavy built
The sunlight will happily bounce off of their light exterior
There is no need to look beyond the drapes
The drapes that prove to be fatal
Wrapped around each ignorant mind

Now bare we stand strong
Facing the sun we see nothing of what we thought

Hijabs fall to the floor
Kangas ripped
Rebozos torn and thrown

The blood spilt is red
Unable to distinguish the blood by race
Many know that pale skin is often stained red

The Drapes are a comfort
Some never want to seek further
Those who do find the truth

The ashes of the fallen stick to their feet
The rubble created by power hungry individuals
Are hot to the touch

“I am an American citizen.”
“I cant breathe.”
“I don’t have a gun. Stop shooting.”

The drapes are now being recognized and torn down
We stand together
Fighting for basic human rights

We will walk the movement
Even at our lowest point we will still stand tall
And never seek comfort in the drapes again
I've listened to different gurus sattelite their messages from brooding

tax-paying entities

and maybe swallowed enough for my own labyrinth

to let mosquitos and even leeches have their own have at it

there have been enough essays' published in my college days to keep me occupied, though I was high I managed to write a couple more (essays) to **** up against em

(if I haven't proven a point already)

throw a sucker punch across the blue stream ralleys' and then an abusurdist crusade will hatch itself on proletariat jargon for mind game dummies

any point to get sicker?

cause with another delving pincher you'll find yourself in a new clincher that sets up moral envies that sip acid juice and grab ivy's for escapist hijabs and lickedey split you'll think "best of luck" to the nonprofet outlets trying to bring awareness to trashcan lids that could be waddled in an out of brewery suds for clinking pennies, shaken up by a weary sister coffee can tips that are end up swallowed by the family ford and hi cee sips, count the frays:

and portraits of drawn meals seals the deals

and yolking enough eggs for developing teenagers

and whisking ***** manifestations

and ode to band posters by third party members

and shine a light on rescue missions

play clue guessing who posted that one, could it be the unexpected or the obvious?

the former ******* your cheeks with marlmalade,

the latter maybe a pictograph to save

yeah, I'd look it over again,

I wish for a paint brush to search for that hidden gem of maroon 7

and I swear they don't make a mustard with gas station cherry sour

of course, I'll blow a poison dart through the numbers dialed for lionesque mantels that spit ice y hot all over the resurfacing faces from burlesque challenges dated two weeks back,

now got to remember

was that where I was at?
Emma Dec 8
They run,
through streets that scream of bomb smoke and shattered bone,
their shadows swallowed by the black of hijabs,
a mother swaddles her babe, her heartbeat louder than the guns.

Blood whispers its story
on trembling hands—whose hands?
Hers, his, the boy too small to carry grief,
but already has it, pressed like a kiss on his brow.

How long?
How long before the dream of faces turns to ash?
Before names become nothing more than echoes
sung to the fleeing, like lullabies of loss?

The gun is no longer an object;
it is an extension of them, fused to flesh,
its weight the weight of survival,
its promise another lie whispered to the children.

They run,
but the streets do not let go.
The ruins hold their breath,
cradle them in decay,
and ask, "How much longer?"

The answer—
silent, like the graves they leave behind.
TSBP Dec 2019
There’s a city

north of nowhere

A city

stuck in yesterday

with no tomorrow to

speak of

A city

made up of alleyways

and unfulfilled dreams

Empty promises and

empty stomachs



Stone blocks jut out

haphazardly

filled with individuals

too individual

to stand out

A mixture of

hijabs, crop tops and

sandal shoes

Spending days

whiling away

like puppets without a master

A hub

of liars , thieves

and middle-age crises



There's a city

devoid of colour

making the profane

mundane

The only joy coming from

rudimentary graffiti

rough blues and

faded yellows litter

the wall

Lampposts patrol

patchwork roads

like burnt matchsticks

twisted and bent

from years of wear

Where did their

smiles go?
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2021
idle hands fit for the devil to do his bidding...
perhaps i'll write some more
so more and the devil will come to the fore...
he might just come with
smoke and mirrors: hardly any fire...
smoke and mirrors: hardly any fire...
he might just come with
smoke & mirrors to the fore...
who wouldn't have forgotten
to shave or... for that matter: bring some
sulphuric stink and some: farting-ire...

so i've just changed my bicycle tyre...
yep... i've just change my bicycle
tyre and the inner tube too...
so i've just changed my bicycle tyre
and the inner tube too...
and... well: how mighty these idle
hands now seem...
well: how mighty these idle hands now
seem...

i've saved up about 20 quid's worth
of someone's labour...
but i've also spent us much...
on the necessary parts...

but... but... it's so much more...
when you can cook your own curry
instead of falling back on an Indian take-away...
when you can cook your own curry
instead of falling back on an Indian take-away...
pizzas too: dough with yeast:
grows it grows: it makes it sing!
hey, just listen: jovial fat man sings...
the yeast will make the flour
the sugar, water & a pinch of salt
rise! rise! rise!

- if it's not the pied piper taking the rats
out of town...
it's this best only imagined:
jovial fat man making the yeast
           rise...
he might even:
   play along with king  Solomon's con-tem-
                                                    +            -plation
of the ant... busy yeast busy ants:
the jovial fat man sang
and up up: the dough rose!

throw me a black cardamom grenade!
throw me a black cardamom grenade!
i'll forever make this work:

i have: an arsenal of Indian spices
that could compete with
the Russian or the US stockpile of
nukes...
i have: an arsenal of Indian spices
that could compete with the Russian &
the US stockpile of nukes...

knock knock: who isn't there:
knock knock... the echo... the echo isn't there...
keep up: lyrics... repeat repeat to
keep the rhythm: pink-oi(nk)-poignant...
any blessed fate of deep-fried onion
rings...
one two one two: the same sound
of a rubber ball against a brick wall...
jesus take one: on a cross...
take two on a horse...
jesus dying an old man...
hey! Zeus! you were him too?!

any idiot is supposed to ride a donkey
byway of: back a warding off...

oh look... lyricism was going to swell...
i was almost: "grifting"?
well... good luck writing lyrics
for anything beside
the one time Beethoven managed to write
the music for the lyrics...

not originally Friedrich Schiller's...
whatever the dispute was...
one was deaf... the other blind?

ode to "freedom": what which i might
enjoy last: what's leftover...
what i can have while the forerunners
have exhausted...
and will never find my own...

i was never good at keeping it:
"geometrically": compact...
i was always found to digress even when
i were to finish something with
a promise for lyrics:
i would devolve the lyrics into...
a "word salad" narrative...
all the better... i'm not rhetorician...
i'm not journalists...
if i haven't made any more from my
work...
then... obviously i'm no Salvatore Garau
who just auctioned a $18,300 sculpture...

what's the point of money: if... you don't
want to spend it?

sentiments for all those hijab-clad girls...
when a common reaction comes in the form:
there's... a hair... in my soup...
there's a hair in my soup!
almost akin to: there are some nail-clippings
in my soup... there's a fly in my champagne flute!
in defence of hair?
really... that's all there was: to begin with?
men would never be allowed to grow their hair
long? they would all be bald?
why is it a defence of hair...
a man can shave his head
and present himself with a bald head:
but a goat's beard...

em... there's a hair in my soup?
ugh! the immediate response...
someone was toying with their *****...
there's a nail-clipping...
it's one thing: and i've seen it:
muslim girls donning white-hijabs
in the street... fair enough...
Japan is an island... they're experiencing
record high-levels of... heat... humidity...
England is an island...
we share the same longitude... platitude...

it's a ******* island...
why is having "hair" somehow deemed as
"****"? what's this outdated model
to do with, herr moi?!
hair... what if i'm into shortcut pixie-dream
girl memorabilia?
what if i want to be a man:
and have long hair while i want
her to be short-cut?
Woad princess of the raven hairs: clipped
to a crew-cut... with feathers of tease
ruining my balance as i regroup?!

come to think of it...
what are these two jugs of the female ****...
but only two nibbles: of *******?
why can't i start imagining...
the cow's sack of the mono-***
with multiple *******?
if everything is to made to blatantly:
******* apparent!

i seriously turn into a quasi-paedo
when watching the gymnastics...
then again i correct myself:
i like to stand corrected...
give me anything voluptuous...
fully grown: a mandible beauty of the body...
stash the used-parts...
i'll be happy to watch rust overgrow them...

i've ****** a ****** once...
never... ever... again...
i've seen the mirror imposed...
three incisions into my body with a "***** worthy"
clarification of a knife...
on the right side: just above my collar-bone...
under my right-arm-pit...
where the tętno protrudes... pulse...
and one smooth stroke into the neck...

then to finish it all off...
somewhere in the confiscates of the abdominal
region...
by now... i'm best teasing...
in my 35 years lived...
claiming a marathon riddled with
dementia and bad to worse teeth
aged 70: life expectancy doesn't really
bother me:
i've seen what old age does...
it does very little to proof-read past
deeds with a substance of immunity
from the harrowing...

for those that might mind:
death of glorious relief!
however the life was spent...
either is the exercise of the body...
or the exercise of the mind:
whether in the limelight or
whether in the footnotes ...

it might just rain... while i take to the field...
i'm hardly going to yield a harvest
from it: perhaps an odd thought...
but what's a "thought" these days?
it's not a moral-ought-i nor
a moral-ought-i-not...
i think for a something of a burden:
when once i thought for a cogito-per-se...
i thought for the sake of thinking...
there was no "ingenious" inversion"
ascribed to Nietzsche that i might:
be... therefore to think: a machine of thinking?

i don't think Descartes would allow
himself to be justified: i exist in order
to (merely) think...
he just posited: oh... i suppose i think...
suppose i am too... towing along...
but Nietzsche had to focus on the: denken: arbeit!

how much can one "think" before:
Descartes would call me from the grave and
tell me to invoke the counter to: res cogitans:
imploring me: mention: res vanus! mention
res vanus! the empty thing...
the sensual creature! the creature
who absorbs cursors! motives... motifs...

****'s sake... sum ergo cogito...
well then... if you are... Nietzsche...
where was your... *******... lightbulb?
same as me... although i find minor concerns
best targeted...
what example? i'm pretending to be deaf...
oh... you know... the vampire of brooklyn...
Albert Fish... Fitsch... sticking needles
into his pelvis before being electrocuted...

philosophers: alias to...
fan-boys spinning narratives of artists...
the subjective-object...
the objective-subject... blah blah...
the gymnast who is fudge-packaged body
without the height of a swimmer Olympian...
i must say... beside the women...
the male swimmers still hold the highest
aesthetic for a male body: exemplar...
above every, other sport...

i drink to excess: therefore:
i have a slightness to excess in a "stomach ache"...
what... in between not having
a war to wage... too much competition...
me suckling up to the sleep of
PHENERGAN... no alcohol...
and me drinking some alcohol
and succumbing to some... APAP...
and some anti-inflammatory NAPROXEN...

it's not a fair competition for sucky-sucky...
is... it? it's not a fair competition
when within the confines of: said:
competition... there are so many...
ailing... exemplars of supposed
zenith ambitions...

while i wallow in the crustaceans nibbling...
itch itch some more...
nibble itch... itch some more...
i've learned a lesson of patience that
overcomes all that's...
necessarily... of such strong stock of body...
but with a feeble mind...
thank god i've been patient...
brain as chemical soup...

at what point am i to be excused
not remembering my 20s?!
now?
is this the right time to cash in on the hovering
gimmicks worth of chips & slabs?
a litany of: when i was...
but no one was bothered to
watch?!

what love i had...
what love i could have worshiped...
each letter... each letter guided toward
constructing a word... each word
with each and every punctuation marker...
added marker: with diacritical scrutiny...
will be... aided... with nothing short
of: oh no... no evil... nothing associated
with: d(evil) to do evil...
rather..            malice... irksome... bothersome...
little... fidgety awe...

i want to be something: belittling... nothing:
awe inspiring... i could have been...
once... the world made it obviously:
fair... fair to me...
goodness is ridiculed and waiting for
the slaughter of those having made it to old age...

a daughter will.. estrange herself from her
mother... my mother... my grandmother...
over how my grandmother kept the death
of her father: my grandfather... a secret for almost two
months... while my uncle: her brother: her son...
somehow knew all about the deterioration...
two days prior only i found about him being
subjected to a hospice...

AND ME... REPRODUCE?!
START A FAMILY!
I'VE BEEN TASKED WITH COUNTING
WHAT MARBLES I HAVE LEFT...
I'M TO BIND MYSELF WITH CONCERNS
FOR "HEALTH": THE "MIND":
WHILE ALL THESE SEEMINGLY...
PONTIUS PILATE CRITTERS...
WALK... SCALD-FREE!
DICTATING WHO REQUIRES
THE PSYCHIATRIC BRAIN CHEM-SOUP...
SO THEY CAN KEEP A ******* HARD-ON?!

it would truly require me to...
take the most... freely accessible... nonsense:
*****-nilly solipsist of the bunch
to the slaughter... and they wouldn't even know...

this "poetry": this civilization can die...
die a dog's death...
but it won't die a "dog's" death...
it'll die a death of man...
under the umbrella branch of mulattos...

there's no longer a crucified centre to hold it...
the tide has come...
the fire is gluttonous.... yes...
there's no longer a crucified centre to hold it...
the tide has come...
the fire is gluttonous.
Ryan O'Leary Sep 2020
Men wearing hijabs
is equality in Islam
thank Allah for Covid.
it was Ilona who introduced me to post-punk,
through 65daysofstatic
it took me a decade if not more
perhaps even 15 years to appreciate this genre
maybe it was like being introduced
to prog rock with Emerson Lake and Palmer
and i could never understand
brain salad surgery:
just in the middle of the 20th century
after the ghosts and horrors of concentration
camps
sane society abolished asylums:
what a strange coincidence:
it was truly a meisterschtick verschieben...
a sort of play on the Metallica song from ride
the lightning: fight fire with fire...
that's when the English speaking world
abolished asylums and
made hospitals a communist rot
with only hospices
having some intelligence in being governed:
untreatable sickness of impeding death
that incurable "disease": that final ease:
that ultimate release that only freedom
for life the ******* the chains
of senses
perhaps in death i only exist as thought
without the need for eyes and tongue
perhaps no skin and only a skeleton in the mirror
and shadow
i am shadow in death with no need to sense:
five fold:
i am but thought: in the god of THOTH:
falafel... fought with thought until there was no other
ought i
ought i for    and for whom i think i thought
i wasn't impressed by Nobel Prize tier literature...
i don't know who it's owned by
never prize ordained by the people
the elite
and king and idea of country
but not a nation
not a people a country
is like a house
a palace where no hotel staff are welcome
i thought i was at the bottom of the barrel
with Muhammad Musa
but then i told him
while overhearing a conversation in a cubicle
at Winter Wonderland Hyde Park...
the hijabs and niqabs are off
the Arab girls are here to party
and they parties taking selfies
with rich Korean girls
and fake tans and goose purse lips botox
gone wrong with white *****...
i feel a certain racial elementalism...
not superiority
i went from English tongue back to Germany
and the Saxons also reigned over Poland
just like Prussians are not Germans
but a subtle breed like Lithuanians under the guise
of ******... western slav:
back to the history of the Vikings
and the Mongol Turk
and the Iranian in Europe
the great migration of Europe
from Asia...
that's the history i'm interested in... recorded history:
i don't buy into the Genesis story
of the Bible like i don't buy into the story
of Darwinistic history:
my consciousness begins in Asia
and Polynesia because i see the Apocalyptic
movement of people as the Great Best of the Earth
and the Great Beast of the Sea...
the apocalyptic figure is man in sigma:
the summation:
the collective unconscious...
i'm heading to find the beast of the sea
to Hawaii, specifically Kauai
like the author of Dr JEckyll and Mr Hyde
or perahps like Gauguin...
i don't buy the historiology of Darwin...
i don't like the contamination of Darwin and history
i don't like being western european
and associating myself too much with
the African...
perhaps the Medi-terrain sea (i am dyslexic with
that noun of the sea)...
i was just about to ask my friendly AI about
the potential of a software update...
listening to **** music on repeat
the good old days of algorithms of 2016
i imagine the creation of AI was galvanized by
the corruption of algorithms circa 2016...
notably YOUtube...
back in the day... YOUtube worked like a smart
jukebox...
you could get suggested new music
like perusing purr-use-you
   another dlyslexic tangle tangle dyslecix
Polish is a Puritantical Tongue in terms
of phoneticism strict
obliging with exceptions of RZ and CZ SZ
then no: if you treat these exceptions as
if but not really Chinese ideograms...
more *** in the Katakana...

can't find it: but did find a desert:

サ   eeven...
ハ                      two...         ゴ
ラ                                        ビ

      but no shh... while woman orgams: no hush hush
like Wah Wah yehwah the dark brother of
yahweh: because this theory comes from the chicken
and not the egg: the chicken came first:
leverage: yehwah:         the language of Eva...

and the language of Adam: yahweh:
  dance dance Siamese letters of Ancient Rome:
an ancient cicpher... or pilcrow (¶)
tide of broken barricades of paragraphs
compacted to save ink and save pages
but now i'm writing light graffiti
on pages that don't exist like money doesn't exist
money has evolved
and no one even asks journalists who reads
newspapers
how absolete these parasites are like
the 20th century communists like my grandfather
thought about the clergy: the church...
we have a new church in place
and it is journalism so absolete
how obsolete:
this "institution" needs to die...
in panic mode:
they have free newspapers being circulated
as if it was free tampons or free condoms
or toilet paper to wipe your *** with...
the great dinosaur is long gone
industrial revolution
and the revolution of the printing press
think of lineage
think of history don't
be amazed by the current thing and amazed at
using it
retreat light a candle sit in silence
and listen to music:
IDLES - GIFT HORSE
stop reading newspapers read poetry instead
question philosophy books to the maxim...
this institution of paper demagogues of fixation
the plastecine mind of man
by sooner lost ego: dynamite id to nothing explosion
and expulsion of fickle ego
with two parents intact and physically before me:
i have no use for the super-ego
i will not be a ******* Jewish Chimera:
the Israelites are innocent
and just for oculus per oculus
but the Israelities are not the Jews of history
Freud and Marx...
i am not a Chimera: i am a non-schematic man:
i am a swimming man a climbing man
a conversation man a ******* man
a Platonic father with a surrogate daughter
like i am unusual because males
of this current temporal spatiality of time
does not
i am against the current:
i walked winder wonderland and so many
young girls were throwing darts and eyes at my attention:
my imperfection
my spontaneous alcoholism my bad skin
my Beelzebub took a **** on my face and now i'm
squeezing out acne-maggots
and what else: i love to cook and i love to ****
but i also like big girls
and i like older girls
i want to think of it as a partial invitation to necrophilia
and then a Hamlet in reverse a Amhlet
(the H is silent... ergo surd)
           but i prefer a volume-ambitions one with thighs
and all limbs like a cow so ***** to be milked...
so i prefer them cradle-snatching:
but happening with consent: no Jimmy'll fix it
type of DJ i am of the ***** pool of potential seekers
fun done now settling
why settle for a contemporary ***
let's be more gender fluid and more temporal fluid:
let's trade the freedom of homosexuality
and tri-balance of binary bi
with facing lovers not for gender
but temporal coordinates in brute form:
but just beyond time:
*** as gender fluidity is so boring in that it is
nihilistic and project extinction...
but surrogacy
but deviating from the church said of a 2 year old
will teach another 2 year old to *******
i will not or ever care for English
history of the world in the neo-con age
of Darwin straight out of Africa:
ignoring the migration period from Africa
to Arabia
to Asia: i know why they have such squinted eyes:
too much sand...
that's why Arabs are a second exodus out of Africa
that stopped in Arabia
and didn't go further...
and the migration from Asia?
via Polynesia
and via Alaska into America...
and also the migration to Europe...
via the Turks...
but i forget the migration from Arabia to
Iran and India... and then from:
but that's because that would be a migration
from Africa by Sea...
i was referring to the squinting eye hypothesis
and eye-lashes...
evolution...
why no long eyelashes
why so many girls with fake eyelashes walking
about am i reading humanity
correctly
the first wave migration from Africa
into Arabia
happened and the people got yellow skin
from desert glass and sun
and squinting eyes from too much desert storms
because the eyes squinted and we weren't camels
so not extra eyelashes...
then the second African migration happened
and the ******* became camel jockeys
and returned as fairies in Egypt as the Great Kongs...
but there was a Third great African migration
that happened by sea...
which established the subcontinent of India
i don't know about that inter-species breeding process
to make the Knee-Under-Fall man extinct...
but it's not there was a Knee-Under-Fall man genocide:
just... outbreeding...

— The End —