the kidnapping of the great party dude



you see brian and patrick loved to party but brian’s family weren’t into partying

and brian turned to patrick whose family loved partying and in the process brian

and patrick were being watched by hooligans who want to kidnap these 2 party dudes

and rid partying forever and ever, but brian and patrick both said, you can’t get us, we are

big dudes, we don’t have no nerdy stretch in us, so we bought pizza and a few XXXX beers

and went around terrorising the conservative town, but the hooligans liked pushing people

to be conservative so brian and patrick had to be kidnapped and ******* in a ditch, and because

it was hard to kidnap brian and patrick, the hooligans had an idea to put poison in their drinks

to lure them into the hooligans car and locked up in their back shed to rot away, brian said

we are 2 cool party dudes and pat said the same, and they went out to a club to party with the chicks

and the hooligans were there and put poison in brian and patricks glass and they played air guitar

and headbanged their heads together like 2 real party dudes unaware that they have been poisoned and

and continued to party really hard and brian and patrick wanted another drink but the hooligans said

you 2 young party dudes have had too much and they punched brian and patrick in the guts and the poison

was starting to hit on, as they fought like a couple of little babies coming out of the womb and before they knew it

the hooligans took brian and patrick to their car, threw them in the back seat and drove them to their house and

when they arrived, the hooligans got some heavy chains and tied brian and patrick up with them and locked them

in the shed and gagged brian and patrick with very snotty handkerchiefs and then the hooligans laughed saying

we are ridding the world of party dudes, slowly one by one, and patrick could see a hole which could break bigger

but was too weighed down by iron chains to attempt it and wriggled a bit saying, hey brian, we must wriggle because

we can’t give these kidnappers a sign he has defeated the party dudes, we can never be defeated, but this was going

to be tough for brian and patrick, but they must wriggle, because the chain will loosen and hopefully they can break free

but then patrick vomited green and red blood and said, boy, brian, we have been poisoned, we must struggle because

i don’t want to die either, we must get rid of this poison in our blood and the hooligans came in and said, well you kids like

the band POISON, don’t ya, but i warn you, brian and patrick, don’t struggle or we’ll ****** you and use your dead bodies

to play with on the lawn, yeah that is a cunning little plan, like the movie, weekend at bernies and patrick said, he loves that

movie, and the hooligans said, brian and patrick, you are going to the 2 dead bodies to bring that movie into the real world

and brian was scared and so was patrick as they yelled out H E L P H E L P H E L P H E L P and patrick said to brian we must

still struggle though to rid this poison out of our bodies, and brian found it hard, but still he tried but the poison was well and truly

stuck in their system, and brian wanted to give up, but patrick said, brian, don’t give up, we must show our friends and the world

that partying isn’t wrong and brian then said ok patrick lets struggle and in 8 days of being stuck in the iron chains that bound them

brian got loose and untied patrick and then noticed a hooligan sitting outside guarding the outside and brian and patrick ran up to him

and through the chain all over him, while saying, you are kidnapping brian and patrick and ridding the world of partying, the party

in this world will never be over, and it’s our job to make sure we get the world to party aqnd you party poppers will die, real angry

mother *******, as brian and patrick l,coked the three hooligans in the shed they were in, and brian and patrick ran off down the

federal highway back toward canberra to show, the canberra city, is the party capital of the world, well at least that is what brian

and patrick planned anyway and brian and patrick were very choosey on who to muck with though they still partied, that will never

change, brian and patrick felt safe in the party heaven, they will rock and roll all night and party every day, and they did

he hooligans feet




you see the hooligans are trapping me down and down, making me feel, i am too shy

to be like anyone cool, and i don’t want this to happen, the reality is, my feet have fungus

but it could be the hooligans trapping me, making me believe that i8 will never be a family person

ever again, and another thing too, the fungus is building up on my feet, here is a song

the hooligans have trapped my feet hooray hooray

yeah they have trapped my feet hooray hooray

you see the hooligans have trapped me down, like i have been ******* by a terrorist, yeah

and i feel like i am hooligan forever and forever amen, oh lord

you see the hooligan is me back then, the me who wanted to destroy the world

by taking each boy away, so they couldn’t find a girl, my lord

you see i said ha ha ha, you oldies are going down

you see i am a mean dude, who needs to break away

and this hooligan stays in my body till i am too old for ***

yeah, the hooligans will hassle me, like my old pal rex

you see, how this hooligan will hassle me, by ripping the shyness out of me

i want the hooligan out of my body, but it’s so fucken hard

i want it out i want it out, but really i am too filthy yeah

i am hearing blackboards ghost my mate, ya see my previous life who was beheaded

and i remember being killed by a strange man named fred

well, him, he was crazy, but so am i

i hate everyone saying i am CRAZY, it drives me nuts

i hear these voices, saying come to the other side

and be my friend, yeah mate yeah, this would be the coolest thing

just like me, the coolest thing

and the hooligans have his legs tied and his arms tied

and every time he walks, his feet will be planted on the floor

like he has been trapped forever and ever amen

you see i was trying to be a hooligan to show my family that they are so shy

you see, keeping my legs planted on the floor, is to say, i am a cool kid

and i was protecting myself from the bad spirits

ya see if i tied myself up, or pushed my feet to the ground

i can tease my family forever

but this could turn nasty as some actual hooligans rob me, by saying your not a hooligan, mate

in a really angry voice, and i don’t want to rob banks or steal cars, no that ain’t for me

please don’t make me rob banks, i hate that kind of life

cause i close my eyes, and draw back the curtain to see for certain a budweiser beer

and all young people got drunk with me, yeah, how about you take your beer

and get the **** right out of here

you see i don’t know for sure if my feet are itchy, because i feel my hooligan coming back to me

or is it just, the fact that i am too nice for the real world, and the hooligans keep me in, young dude heaven, to protect me

with a clash of drums, a flash of light, my itchy feet became hooligan feet

i was floating off to darkness, please leave me alone

and i saw my dad, drinking a methane smoothie, that i left there for him to tip all over me

hey baby ooh yeah hey, i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

hey baby ooh yeah hey i want to know if this hooligan will kidnap simon

you see brian allan is a family person, who doesn’t wanna rob banks cause they are bad

i know they are poor, and i know they are having heaps of problems, but hey baby ooh yeah, hey

i want to know if the hooligan will kidnap simon

you see people are treating me like a hooligan, i don’t want to be a hooligan

i am a family person, who has a lot of fun, yeah

why don’t these so called families leave me alone

you see, they are treating me like a hooligan, all because i was shyer than the so called teasing families

i am a family person, more so than them, i hate the hooligans trying to trap me under the families

so they can ask me to rob banks, I DON’T WANT TO ROB BANKS, I HATE EVERYONE TEASING ME

I AM NOT A HOOLIGAN, REALLY, I AM A FAMILY PERSON, WHO HAS, itchy hooligan feet

BECAUSE I MADE A MISTAKE IN LIFE

the reason i have hooligan voices



you see, when all the families were teasing me, cause they were rich *****

and the kids who were teasing me were stuck up rich kids

i felt the only mates i had were the heavy metal hooligans, mind you

i was getting mixed messages, on this, by the families, but i felt

that was the reason, they wanted me to be a family person, so

they can call me stupid or dummy, or give me fucken wee

ya see., all this drove me to hooligan behaviour cause these mates were nice to me

they let me into their homes with open arms

you see, we sang all sorts of songs, to scare away the stupid teasing family people

who, are cool kids to their dads and mums, while, me i was out playing with the real hooligans

ya know, partying, and i teased gerald, in the town centre tavern because he was a uni nerd

and i was remembering hooligans allowing me to be one of them

you see even dad teased me, when he came down and did his ya know speech

and the young dudes behind me, knew what dad meant

so i pretended to be peter buchanan, to show the young dudes at the back

what dad’s ya know argument, really sounded like

you have to do this, ya know, you have to do that ya know

every which way ya know, F    U     C    K    O    F   F   OLD TIMER

you see the hooligans mucked with me in cool kid groups

because i threw beer bottles on the roof of the school

you see, it is me the reason why they put fences around schools, so we can’t vandalise the school with out beer bottles

you see, hooligans made me feel great, when nobody else would

the families were too scared of their precious egos, to be my mate or friend

so i made myself a hooligan, because they were nice, i am not shy with the hooligans

but, i was the only one being nice to them

the families were being stuck up

i am listening to bon jovi singing blaze of glory and i sang

shot down in a pair of ******, shot down in party town

when we go out in just a pair of ******

we never drew once, but we drew first blood, my ****** are the devil’s son

you call me hooligan, but that was the hooligans were nice to me

they treated like one of their clan, while the families treated me like total ****

they teased me, and i said, at least i have the music loving hooligans to muck with

their friendship was great medicine, for my disabled head, shake it up hooligan your good medicine

please buddha cure my schitzophrenic head

i said i was a hooligan to scare dad a bit, but i didn’t mean to hurt him, now he is in his grave

with me being too scared to tell him

i was a hooligan, i was a terror, i wish those families would stop teasing me

you see steven bradley was the real hooligan, and his spirit grabbed brian allan who was greame thorne

to say, you are a kidnap victim, young hooligan, you are getting T    E     A     S    E    D buddy

olds time rock and roll, this kind of music makes the families want me yeah

so i play deep purple, iron maiden and kiss and bon jovi and jimmy barnes

and muck with the hooligans buddy ole boy ole chum ole pal

dude, i was a hooligan, getting teased by the families, i hate those families who teased me

i hate being teased full-stop, i hate getting fought full stop

i want to muck with everyone who is willing to PARTY

AND PARTY I SHALL, i was a hooligan, but i am on medication to calm him

no medication alive, will make me be nasty to POOR PEOPLE, dudes, no way hoizei

Not a poem but in protest of flagging truth about racism in Traverse City, Michigan


Traverse City, Michigan: Racism is still alive and well in our area.

We weren't always welcoming
Cross burning's (City of Traverse City, MI)
I'm born and raised in Traverse City, Michigan and still living in the same neighborhood where I grew up. I can remember when blacks were not welcome in most parts of town and the one or two around were military visitors.

We had two known cross burning incidents. One back in the late 80's or early 90's the other was around 1924, ******* groups like Ku Klux **** was behind both cross burning incidents. I found old articles on the earlier one but someone is trying hard to white wash history of Traverse City by hiding evidence of the most resent one. Ones like me who were there remember those dark days like it was yesterday. It don't bode well for tourism or the Cherry Festival if there's a record of racism in our city.

Copy pasting one two different retelling of story reported by our sometimes biased Record Eagle articles regarding the first and and will continue to dig for the other one.

January 31, 2009
KKK was active in early '20s

The 1924 bombings and cross burnings in downtown Traverse City were not the first **** activity in northern Michigan.

The Record-Eagle reported flaming crosses in the Mancelona area on Aug. 1, 1923, a full year before. Six weeks later, Traverse City commissioners refused the **** permission to hold a Sept. 17 open-air meeting at the corner of Front and Cass.

About 300 people showed up anyway and marched to a vacant lot west of Front and Union after the unidentified property owner gave permission, carefully noting that it "did not commit him to any relationship with the organization," the newspaper said.

The Record-Eagle also passed on information from an identified **** source in its Sept. 17 report:

Two, maybe three organizers had worked for weeks in Traverse City. About 150 Traverse City men from "among the leading citizens" had joined. An open-air ritual with the traditional fiery cross burning on a hillside would be held "sometime but not yet" in or near Traverse City, and it would be "merely a part of the **** ceremonies and have no special significance."

People who expected to see hooded men in white robes performing rites at the Sept. 17 rally were bound to be disappointed, the paper said. A new state law banned wearing masks in public. It also would be difficult to tell how many in the audience were KKK members because "every person who has signed the Ku Klux card has pledged to keep his membership an absolute secret."


Traverse City, Michigan wasn't always welcoming to people of color.


Traverse City Record-Eagle

February 1, 2009
Ku Klux **** terrorizes TC in 1924

KKK cross burnings, explosions rock city

By LORAINE ANDERSON
Black History Month has special significance, since it begins fewer than two weeks after the nation's historic inauguration of its first black president, Barack Obama.

But there are parts of that history that Traverse City, like the rest of the nation, would rather forget. The city never had a large black population, but it did not escape a visit from the Ku Klux **** during a frightening night of downtown explosions and cross burnings on Aug. 9, 1924.

Traverse City has never seen anything like that night of terror. Buildings shook. Store windows cracked and shattered. Houses as far away as 16th Street quaked, the Record-Eagle reported.

And though outside agitators were blamed, some local people may have been involved.

It started about 8 p.m. after three explosions went off across the river from the Lyric Theatre, where the State is today.

The crowd at the Lyric all but stampeded toward the door as women and children screamed. Panicked shoppers spilled out of downtown stores. City police phones jangled with alarm.

A large cross burned on the north side of the Boardman River near Cass Street. About 50 smaller burning crosses appeared almost simultaneously at the centers of intersections across the city. Each was crudely nailed together and swathed in oil-soaked rags. Sparks flew when several cars struck them. A city fire truck raced through town to douse flames.

Then, a "touring car" with four men, robed and hooded, though not masked, slowly trolled down Front Street carrying a sign surrounded by red flares blazing three letters: KKK.

Copies of the Ku Klux **** newspaper, "The Fiery Cross," later were found downtown, and police determined that at least two cars were involved in planting and lighting the crosses.

**** leaders called the explosions and flaming crosses a recruiting gimmick, but it was more than that. The 1920s was a reactionary time in the United States. The **** had risen again, starting in 1915, widening its anti-black focus to Jews, Catholics and immigrants, particularly those from southeastern Europe. Its membership was strongest in Illinois, Indiana and Ohio.

The ****'s most powerful year was 1924, when it reached an all-time high of 5 million members nationwide and virtually controlled the government of Indiana. Its most popular slogan was "100 percent pure American."

The **** had a solid base of support in Michigan. The **** fielded two candidates in the Republican gubernatorial primary in 1924 and a ****-backed candidate was elected mayor of Flint. A write-in **** candidate even made a strong showing in a Detroit mayoral race.

In June 1924, 1,000 men joined the KKK in an Oakland County cross burning attended by about 8,000 people. Traverse City's demonstration took place just two months later. But who was really behind it?

"There is some doubt among the authorities as to whether the offenses were actually committed by local people or men from outside. They believe that local people were associated in the affair," the Record-Eagle reported.

An unidentified spokesman for the local **** denied responsibility, speculating that it was the work of **** enemies or rogue Klansmen. He told the Record-Eagle that the **** repudiated terror tactics and burning of "unwatched crosses."

Two weeks after the bombing, city police obtained felony and misdemeanor arrest warrants accusing Ku Klux **** organizer Basil Carleton of Richmond, Ind., of setting off explosives. Indiana police arrested him on Aug. 29.

Witnesses testified in two trials in December and January that Carleton had purchased 25 pounds of dynamite, fuses and three caps from Hannah & Lay Mercantile Co. about two hours before the explosions. A Park Place Hotel clerk said he saw Carleton hurrying away from the direction of the explosions about 10 minutes later. Two **** members testified that Carleton was not at the scene.

Yet he was never convicted. Juries acquitted him in both cases because the prosecutor could not prove to their satisfaction that he was at the scene of the explosion or that he personally set off the dynamite.

The bomber escaped justice. But the good news was that in Traverse City, no night of terror like that happened again.

It was this event that sparked the cross burning in Traverse City. We had only one black family in our city, when Betty Ponder and her family left Traverse City for the first time due to no one wanting to rent to them, population of blacks in our predominately white city drop to zero.


******* Movement Targets Northern Michigan

by Robert Downes

National Alliance advocates the creation of "two Americas"

Traverse City, Mich., noted primarily for its beaches, tourists and cherry pie values, appears to be erupting as a national battleground of opinion over the ******* movement, with forces on both sides of the issue coming out of the woodwork to vent their outrage over racial issues.
On Thursday, June 5, residents along stretches of Washington and Front streets in town came home to find a slick package of information from the National Alliance hanging from their doorknobs. An outgrowth of the American **** Party, the National Alliance is a ******* group which advocates the creation of "two Americas," one of which would be "White Space only with no Jews or blacks." The Alliance, advocates genocidal practices if need be to achieve its goals, and plans to distribute 1,000 information packets in Northern Michigan.

Protest organized to oppose July "NordicFest"
The incident arose only a day after more than 150 people from throughout Northern Michigan gathered at a "Hate-Free TC" meeting to oppose the NordicFest, a skinhead rock festival sponsored by the Ku Klux ****, to be held at a secret location 20 miles south of town, July 3-6.
The NordicFest is being advertised on the Internet and will feature at least six skinhead bands featured on Stormfront Records and Resistance Records -- both of which are purveyors of neo-**** hate music. It will also reportedly feature speakers from the Ku Klux **** and Aryan Nations.

Thus far, the NordicFest's location has been a closely-kept secret by David Neumann of Bloodbond Enterprizes, the concert organizer and a former director of the Michigan Knights of the Ku Klux ****. Neumann has told local media that 300 tickets have been sold for the concert -- about half the number he expects to sell. Reportedly, concertgoers will be provided with maps to the secret location at a checkpoint.

Bands expected to play at the NordicFest include Intimidation One, Aggravated Assault, Blue Eyed Devils, Max Resist and the Hooligans, and No Alibi.

Local churches offering seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity
GATHERING STORM

Journalists have made inquiries on the NordicFest from as far away as London, New York and Colorado as a result of the Northern Express story circulating on the Internet. A segment for National Public Radio is expected to take the issue nationwide, possibly focusing the world's attention on Traverse City on the eve of the National Cherry Festival -- an event which draws more than half a million visitors, many of them from ethnic minorities.
"We're creating a rainbow ribbon that we hope everyone will wear in rejection of skinheads and the ****," said Rabbi Stacey Fine of Hate-Free TC. "We hope to have hundreds of ribbons during the time the **** is here, available from downtown merchants."

Fine says the group also hopes to march in the National Cherry Royale Parade with a three-by-eight-foot banner covered with thousands of signatures in a show of support for racial and cultural diversity. Thus far, Cherry Festival officials say they have received no applications from Hate-Free T.C., but will consider the request if approached.

Dottie Kye of Hate-Free TC says the group doesn't plan to try stopping the NordicFest despite their opposition ot the concert. "We're ignoring it," Kye says. "We celebrate anyone's right to organize and free speech. But our thing is unity and celebrating diversity." In addition to several church seminars on the ******* movement and the importance of diversity, Hate-Free TC is organizing a three-day "Unity Festival" which will feature dozens of musicians, artists, poets, actors and peace activists at the Traverse City Opera House, July 3-6.

Concert organizers Tim Hall and Tom Emmott say that more than 40 musical acts will send a pro-diversity message to area teens, with performers including Willie Kye, Alright Already, John Greilick, Samantha Moore, the Motor Town Juke Boys, Bentley Filmore, the Sisters Grimm, and Lack of Afro, among many others. A concert with Fishbone is planned for later in the month.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence"
THE TEEN CONNECTION

The Unity Fest counter-concert is seen as a vital tool in fighting the influence of the ******* movement on teens in the area. After the initial story broke, the buzz in local high schools was that the NordicFest would be offering free beer to minors. Although that notion is clearly erroneous, a small number of teens in the area still cling to the idea and have also been attracted by the rebellious nature of the skinhead rock scene.
Tim Hall believes that his Unity Fest concert will help turn that tide. The three-day concert will be located in the heart of Traverse City in the old City Opera House, with easy access for the hundreds of teens who hang out downtown, often with little to do. "Our message is going to be one that values racial and cultural diversity," Hall said. "And we've had a great response so far. We had to put a lid on the performers when we reached 40 acts, because everyone wants to play at this event."

The Unity Fest will also coincide with the Annual Reggie Box Memorial Blues Blast, which was created five years ago to bring the heritage of black music to Northern Michigan for the overwhelmingly white Cherry Festival. This year's Blues Blast will feature John Mayall, Marcia Ball and the Bihlman Bros. in a free concert downtown on July 6. The concert will also feature a strong message promoting diversity.

The law enforcement view Traverse City Police Chief Ralph Soffredine says members of the law enforcement community, including the State Police and sheriffs from Grand Traverse and Wexford counties, are taking a wait-and-see approach as to whether the NordicFest will even be held.

"People ask what we would do if the skinheads wanted to march, and it's our position that they have the same rights under the First Amendment as anyone as long as they're obeying the law," Soffredine said. "It's a neutral situation for us. We just want to maintain the peace."

He added that skinheads coming to Traverse City would be treated "no different than if longhairs come into town, or square dancers. We'd certainly observe them and respond if there's trouble."

The chief noted that a similar event occurred in the Buckley area several years ago when several motorcycle gangs gathered for a rally. While the event was monitored by local police agencies, few people in the area knew that it occurred.

"Even if the NordicFest doesn't happen, something positive is going to come of it because it gets people thinking about the prevention of violence, which has become a serious problem in our community and our schools," he concluded. "The unfortunate thing is that it sometimes takes a ******* or a racial issue for people to get active."

"Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."
ANGER FROM ACTIVISTS

Not everyone is happy with the neutral attitude of law enforcement. Judy Lowenzahn of Traverse City thinks that local police agencies should get tough on the **** concert, which has no legally-required bond or liquor license.
"These hateful groups are using skinhead music to recruit soldiers for their facist movement," Lowenzahn said. "If they are allowed to hold this event, in violation of local, state and federal laws and in violation of common decency, we will be capitve audience to their deranged homophobic, anti-semitic, racist, sexist ideology. Those who protest this message, along with those who are their scapegoats will be targets for hate crimes."

Lowenzahn upbraided Grand Traverse County Sheriff Barr after he made comments in a local paper that "I'd just as soon personally let them have their little event and be on their way." Barr added that if there was a confrontation between the skinheads and protestors, "there's going to be someone in jail."

"Does Sheriff Barr suggest that people of color and others who don't fit the aryan model hide inside their homes for the holiday weekend?" Lowenzhan responded. "Rather than offer a plan to protect the community from the violence that grows whenever white supremecists do outreach, Sheriff Barr implies that people who have the courage to confront them will be put in jail."

Northern Michigan targeted because of the predominantly white population
KLUELESS

Up to now, the vast majority of Northern Michigan residents have been klueless on the **** and the ******* movement. Many, for instance, had no idea that there even was a Ku Klux **** operating in the region until Neumann revealed that there are about 60 members operating mostly as "a fraternal organization" between ******* and the Mackinac Bridge.
Similarly, the existence and agenda of the National Alliance is all-ne

BRIANO ALLIANO PERFORMING ON THE SUN




HI DUDES AND NOW, TO HOPEFULLY FREE MY SPIRIT, LET’S SCARE AWAY THESE TERRORISTS

FROME EVER GETTING US, THE FIRST SONG IS I’M A HOOLIGAN, PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS


YOU SEE, WHEN I WAS YOUNG YOU SEE

I WAS A TAD DIFFERENT YA SEE

I HATED WHAT THE WORLD HAD IN STORE FOR ME

SO I DEVELOPED MY NEW BRAND OF HOOLIGAN

YOU SEE, PEOPLE SAY TO ME SILLLY THINGS

LIKE HOOLIGANS TEASE FOR ME

I WENT OUT AND PLAYED COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS NOW

AND I SANG

I AM A HOOLIGAN, PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A YEAH MATE YEAH KID

I SAY I AM A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

BUT REALLY I AM A DIFFERENT KIND OF COOL KID, YEAH

YOU SEE SOME BIG BOZO NICKED MY LUNCH

AND SAID DON’T GET KIDNAPPED BE LIKE US

CAUSE HE WANTED TO PROTECT ME FROM THE HOOLIGANS YEAH

HE SAID, NO DUDE, HOOLIGANS TEASE FOR ME

AND HAVE A NICE HOT CUP OF TEA OR COFFEE

AND PLAY COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS, LIKE A HOOLIGAN

YA SEE, I AM A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

I HATE THE LIFE OF A BORING FAMILY, LIKE MINE WAS AT THE PRESENT

BUT I LIVE IN THE PRESENT, FOR A PRESENT OH DEAR

I AM A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS, WHO JUST WANNA GO TO BED

YOU SEE AS I DO MY TAPESTRY, I SIT THERE SMILING AT YOU

CAUSE YOUR A LITTLE FAMILY KID, WHO PLAYS AROUND WITH MYSELF

BUT I CAN CREATE AN IMAGINARY FAMILY OUT OF ALL THE IMAGES IN MY HEAD

I TRY AND SAY I AM NOT A PHEDAPHILE, I’M A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS ALL DAY LONG

I AM A HOOLIGAM PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

I AM BEING TOLD TO GO TO BED TO MUCK FAMILY FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

MY FEET ARE PLANTED ON THE FLOOR, YA SEE I AM A HOOLIGAN A HOOLIGAN A HOOLIGAN

PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE

YOU SEE, THE VISIONS OF OLD FOGIES YEAH

TREATING ME LIKE A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS, YEAH MATE YEAH

REALLY DUDES, I AM NOT A YEAH MATE YEAH KID ANYMORE, I WAS TRYING TO BE A HOOLIGAN, THIS IS HOW IT GOES

I WAS A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

I DON’T CARE WHAT THEY SAY, I JUST WANTED TO BE A HOOLIGAN

I WAS TOO YOUNG TO UNDERSTAND THE DANGERS OF WHAT HOOLIGANS FACE

I WAS PLAYING, OH PLAYING, YEAH I WAS PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS EVERY DAY


AND NOW HERE IS KIDNAP MY SOUL


I WANT THEV TERRORISTS TO KIDNAP MY SOUL, GET RID OF MY LITTLE YEAH MATE YEAH KID

I WANT TO FACE THEV WORLD ALONE, YEAH I HAVE TO BE CAREFUL YEAH

I DON’T WANT THE TERRORISTS TO REALLY GET ME, I AM NOT STUPID, MAN

BUT I WANT TO RID THIS SILLY VOICE, TRYING TO MAKE ME REMIND ME IM USED TO BE A HOOLIGAN

I KNOW, I WILL BE A TV STAR, OR I HAVE TO DO, I9S PARTY

AND IF I SOUND BORING, YEAH MATE YEAH

I HAVE TO WORK ON MY VOICE

I KNOW, I WAS A HOOLIGAN WHEN I LIVED IN WOODBERRY

BECAUSE, I HAD NO KNOWLEDGE, I HAD NO ENERGY

I WAS JUST ISOLATED IN MY ROOM

I KNOW, ALL I DO NOW IS MY COMPUTER, BUT I CAN BE COOL AS WELL

I GO OUT TO FUN EVENTS, YEAH MATE YEAH I AM COOL

AND I WANT THEM TO COME AND KIDNAP MY SOUL

AND WHISK ME AWAY, OH YEAH, I LIKED BEING A DIFFERENT PERSON

AND UNTILL I LEARNT THE TRUTH, BEING A HOOLIGAN WAS FUN AS WELL

PLEASE UNLEASH MY WOODBERRY SPIRIT, AND ALLOW ME TO WASH AWAY MY SPIRIT OH YEAH

DON’T MAKE ME ALWAYS REGRET, SOME CRIME, I DID UMPTEEN YEARS AGO

I WAS ONLY A HOOLIGAN CAUSE OF LAST 2 HUMAN LIVES KIDNAPPED AND KILLED AT 8

PLEASE, ALLOW ME, TIME TO GET OUT OF THIS LIFE

CAUSE, MY FAMILY THINKS IT’S COOL TO TREAT ME SHY

IF I AM SHY, I AM A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS, WHICH MY FAMILY ARE

YEAH, THEY HAVE FUN, BUT I PREFER THE SHAYTARDS, CAUSE I AM A COOLER FAMILY MAN

YESTERDAY I WAS GIVEN IMAGES OF MY MUM EATING LIKE A SCHITZOPHRENIC

AND, I HAVE WEIRD VIBES, WHEN I SOMETIMES EAT THERE, I CAN’T HELP IT, I JUST WANTED BACK THEN

TO BE A HOOLIGAN, PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS,

COMING TO KIDNAP MY FUCKEN SOUL

I AM DIFFERENT FROM MY FAMILY, CAUSE THEY ARE CHRISTIANS OR NICE TO CHRISTIANS

I TRY AND BE NICE TO ME, CAUSE I AM A BUDDHIST, WHO IS BEING PUSHED DOWN

TO BE A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS EVERY DAY

AND AS I SIT UP HERE ON THE MOON, I SAY, LOOK AT THOSE YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

BEING ****** IN TO FAMILY LIFE, AND I AM TRYING TO GET REFORMED FROM

A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

CAUSE, MY LIFE IS GREAT, BUT STILL I SUFFER

BUT I STILL PREFER TO BE A BUDDHIST ARTIST WRITER AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER

THAN A UNEMPLOYED ***, EVERYONE WANTS THE PERFECT LIFE

WHY I CAN’T I BE ONE OF THE FUNLOVERS, DUDES

OR DO YOU WANT ME TO BE A HOOLIGAN PLAYING COOL FOR YEAH MATE YEAH KIDS

WHO GO TO BED SAYING THEY ARE OLD TIME *******

HELLO OLD, I AM BRIAN

it's the 50th anniversary edition of william burrough's naked lunch, with the original cover, looking at all the annexes is like watching modern history with Russian annexing Crimea, anyway...

indeed the nature of addiction, i chose mine to
cure my insomnia - i *chose mine -
the less nasty less mythical name for it is indeed
metabolism - any hard-craft alcoholic walks into
a bar - drunk ******* and egoistically gluttonous
idiots come out like giraffes - vomiting into
the gutters, more Marilyn Monroe moments
showing off knickers even without the metro gust -
you drink enough and watch people drinking
for the psychoactive ingredient for dis-inhibiting
effects (buttered up talk, smooth there, quasi
Don Juan wannabes) - as Burroughs said: PLAN
YOUR ADDICTION - become addicted if some other
weakness is beating you - amtitriptyline doesn't
work without alcohol to what's desired as the lullaby
effect prior to K.O. - don't measure up to a veteran,
he'll beat you with experience, given it works -
i can imagine why hallucinogenics aren't metabolically
affecting - too much implants concerning the
world beyond, and god, and the secret of the universe -
you can't get addicted to these things - because there's
the bad trip, and you're off the hook - no more spiritual
trips looking for answers - repetition of the everyday
kills it off like flicking off a light switch - but, years
after the Beat movement, the Beats really did underestimate
the addiction of marijuana - they thought it was
the ****** drunk... oddly enough marijuana is linked to
alcohol and ****** addiction, it too is metabolic -
i'm not a medical expert... but i have heard of stoners
and their munchies - anything relating to food,
to metabolism is included, marijuana is the middle-guy
between the standards and Disney -
you heard of being monged, right? marijuana is as addictive
as alcohol - originally a giggly drug, a conversation
starter - marijuana - ends up being
an Jason Segel and Ed Helms film Jeff, who lives at Home,
it's this uncontrollable effect that proper intentions of
marijuana have: supreme thoughtlessness - or
the present vogue concerning "mindfulness" -
Jeff basically overthought himself on the high - he didn't
detach himself from thinking, now he's paying the price -
he's making completely random associations -
and why do stoners always waste their time in front
of t.v. or television - marijuana is a purely auditory drug -
******* to the park, pretend to be a fake Buddha imitation
and create the void in yourself to make your mind
the M25 at 3 a.m. - but this innocence with the Beat
movement associating itself with marijuana is partly
why it was legalised - the government wants rejects and,
to be frank? retards - that's why they legalised it -
they knew with the munchies jokes that marijuana had
the same metabolic addiction components as alcohol and
***** - you're metabolic dude! once addiction sets in
you're no longer in control of brain-freeze - you didn't
think it up on the psychoactive Everest - when the nice
sensation was still there, marijuana realised you zombie much
later - all the in-jokes of stoner culture suddenly passed you,
simulation dementia ensued - i'm way past the psychoactive
asset of alcohol, no slurred speech, no nothing -
but i retain the psychoactive point of metabolising excess
alcohol: if i didn't, i would sleep! i wouldn't sleep!
don't get me wrong, i get the point that i can't really
experience the negatives of reaching the psychoactive purpose
of alcohol and ***** in a street or join the football hooligans -
and surgeons drink to calm the nerves and calm the hand -
but alcohol is more cool headed and less phantasmagorical
than ***** addiction, for one thing your palette improves -
you find the most boring tasks liberating -
but the nights are the real nights, esp. if slumped on the sofa
watching t.v., unless you don't have a backlog of un-watched
Versailles or Billions episodes, you really need to go for
a 4 mile walk and breath the air - then half-sleep for
about an 2 hours (because you have limited money and
sometimes you pass a day without Auburn Whitney) -
you become rigorous - the prime solipsism - no time for
girlfriends, doesn't matter, my genitals weren't mutilated
as a child, no one forced a ****-*******-marriage-ring
on my finger - i can actually enjoy addiction - i end up
eating one meal a day - of course my face looks candyfloss
puffed up - but my soul is partly helium pubescent -
alcohol addiction is not ***** addiction even both
are primes of metabolism takeovers - no hung-overs too,
no blackouts - no fake "i can't remember" stories
when something ****** up happened - and certainly no
innocent look at the fact that marijuana is also a metabolic
addiction - unless of course you limit psychic ingestion
(excluding music, music is great to arrive at thoughtlessness),
but as most stoners (the next alcoholics) prove,
garbage the mind with American Dad and then get hungry -
binge eat - the stomach can drag the brain right down
into the acid pit and fry it - zombies galore - you won't be
able to catch yourself stopping thinking, the stomach
will do that for you, and you'll enter the zombie apocalypse:
just like my neighbour - there's a rat-like ritual involved,
for example, most people get sleepy from marijuana -
so it's not an addiction standing at a bus stop
pretending to be waiting for a bus and smoking?
that's addiction - the metabolic Gargantua has already caught-up,
addiction is primarily a solitary affair - it just depends
what you do with it... i'd be ashamed with my alcoholism
if i didn't write poems - the counter-effect is that i feel
some sort of social-inclusion when the day finishes -
i feed the cats, write invoices for my father (40% of
18 - 35 year olds live with their parents, because all
the foreigners bought all the houses intended as: buy to let -
is my money going down my drain, or is this
a post-Freud Oedipus stigmata killing familial relations
altogether?), cook, clean the house once a week,
cut the cats' nail and brush them - and to counter
what i don't do? can you imagine listening to a symphony
with only violins playing? not so genius hearing that
sort of Hollywood story with only cameo characters speaking.

i’m not getting teased, cause i’m a hooligan



you see i remember getting teased by all the families

and it drove me pretty mad, i hated it,

and the only way to rid this evil teasing

is to be evilly myself, by saying, you are still

a family person and i am a hooligan

and if you don’t stop teasing me, i will slit your throat

you see you are a loser, a total and utter loser

i told them, i will come and grab you, and grab the other teasing young dudes

and then i say, i will say, i am a hooligan and you are a family person

my mate and i are planning to grab you

and throw you in the bin, and i will go ha ha ha ha

you have been trapped by us hooligans

you are going to suffer for teasing me, cool boy

i am going to show you, if you tease me, i will **** you

and get rid of your corpse, in the sea

make your body all itchy, and us hooligans

will tie you teasing boys up and i will say ha ha ha

you see you will never escape from me, ever

you say i am shy, but if you keep calling me shy, i will come

and tie you up and say i am a hooligan and i will **** you, right now

and then i will sit down and play cool for you, because you are a family person

and i am a hooligan and i will **** you and play cool for you and every family person on earth

and when any teaser teases me i will go ha ha ha and lay a knife right to their head

you see i will **** the guy who nicked my lunch because he treated me like a queer different person

and as soon as i met my mate, i kept myself hidden with the hooligans ready to pune on him

saying,you are going to die, you are going to die, because i am a hooligan and you are a family person

and you are getting played cool for, with your crazy trying to be a young dude

and i will sit there saying ha ha ha, you family people are going to be a part of my little gang

where i will play cool for you and terrorise you

you see you will never escape from me, you cool boy, you will n ever escape from me anymore cool boy

i will throw cricket stumps on you and you will be scared of me, you little cool boy

i will go out and have some fun, putting you cool boys into the lockup and i will feed you dead rats and spiders

and if the spider bites your inners, i will yell ha ha ha ha saying i am the hooligan, keeping the family people under wraps

and i will attempt to **** you all if you don’t fucken leave me alone, *******

you see i am getting sick of you, teasing me, and every time i touch you you go crazy

but i expect that from a family person such as yourself

i will **** you, i will **** you i will **** you, you will be dead from us, forever

and in 3 weeks all the family people are dead and us hooligans are playing cool for future family people

to make sure the cool boys who tease don’t exist anymore

i said, i am not getting teased, i am a hooligan

EVERYDAY ... In this country ....
They're telling us ... LIES ... !!!!!
from Thatcher ... to ... Blair ....
To ... "Good Old" ... "HESELTINE" .....
  
So let me explain ....
why i've put this in rhyme ....
  
The army's had ... SECRETS ...
THEY ... "DON'T" ... talk about ... !!!
  
So read these words ... CLOSELY ... !!!
cos' now ... it's come ... " OUT " ... !!!
  
Policies on recruitment ....
were .... "STRICTLY" .... Defined ....
Black soldiers ... WEREN'T ... Welcome ... !!!!!
on ... "WHITE" .... Army Lines ...
  
They say it's been happening ...
Since .... NINETEEN FIFTY-SEVEN !!!!!
  
But somehow ... i'm thinking ...
it's been ... "ALL THE TIME" ....
  
This to me though ... is ... COOL ... !!!
and is ... NO SURPRISE ... !!!!!
it's just .... POSITIVE PROOF ....
of the ... LIES ... they've disguised ... !!!!!
  
as a youthful ... PROUD BLACK ... !!!!!
I REMEMBER ..... THE HATRED ..... !!!
and .... Racial Attacks .... !!!
  
There was ... "NEVER" ... ANY BLACK
in the ... UNION JACK ... !!!!!
These ... UNCLE TOM ... Blacks ....
Should ... "REMEMBER" ... THAT ... !!!!
  
They like to suggest ....
Black people are ... "*****" ... !!!
  
Well, YES ... that is ... TRUE ...
  
"SOME" ... Black people ... ARE ... !!!
  
But it's ... WHITE GIRLS ... I see ....
who like ... "****" ...
Up Their ... **** ... !!!!!!
  
So ...........
for them .... to say ....
English people ... have ... " CLASS " ... !?!?!
is just ... "ONE MORE LIE" ....
and is truly .... A .... FARCE !!!!!!
  
Now this thing with ... "Armed Forces"
NOT wanting ... "us ... BLACKS" ... !!!!!
is ... "Cool with me !!!" ... but ... !!!???!!!
when ... MUSLIMS ... " ATTACK " ....
  
They'd better believe .....
They should ... COVER ...
Their Backs ... !!!!!
  
Cos' ... THE TRUTH ... is out now ...
and this ... I DO ... BACK ... !!!!
  
The Army ... SHOULD ...
...... " ETHNICALLY " ......
Cleanse OUT ... The Blacks .... !!!!!!!!!!
  
Oh they'll be ... ALRIGHT ... !!!
when their army's ... ALL WHITE ... !!!
  
So to those who hate ... ******* ...
have a read of ... The Words ...
in the ... FOLLOWING ... Verse ...
  
Go fight your own fights ... !!!!!
cos' Black people have died ....
"PROTECTING" ... YOU Whites ... !!!!!
  
who suggest that ... us ... BLACKS ....
Shouldn't have ... Civil Rights ... !!!!!!!
  
My feeling is that .....
STEPHEN LAWRENCE ... Is ... ONE ....
whose family ... "SUFFERED" ...
from an ... English Law ... CON ... !!!
  
Film footage did show ....
Those White .... HOOLIGANS .... !!!!!!
were ... READY ... to ... **** ... !!!
Any Black ... and just ... Run ...!!!...
  
But when court time came ....
They were given ... FREEDOM ... !???!
  
Well ....
To Stephen's ... DAD ...
and to ... Stephen's ... MUM ...
  
I'm writing this verse ....
cos' the way it was ... Handled ...
was ... "TOTALLY" ... " WRONG " ... !!!!!!
  
See .... The BBC showed ....
How .... Police Training ... goes !!!
  
That ... " Racists " ... get recruited ... !!!
and ... "WELCOMED" ... to the ... FOLD ... !!!!!
  
But People ... Only Know ...
cos' the ... "HIDDEN CAM" ... Showed ...
that .... RACISM'S .... hidden ....
like ... "COVETED" ... Gold ....
and that's when ... THE RACISTS ...
be acting .... ALL BOLD .... !!!!!
  
But catch them ....
on ... Their Own ...
when their ... "BNP Buddies" ...
are sitting ... AT HOME ... !!!
  
In Black Company ....
They're in ... " THE DEADZONE " ... !!!!!
  
They Quickly ... Transform ...
into .... " ALI G ... mode " .... !!!
  
"I've got LOADS of Black friends ...
so ... what's happening bro !!!???!!!"
  
Meantime we are told ....
"EQUALITY" ..... is in sight .... !!!
  
Now I ... DON'T LIKE ... using
"EXPLETIVES" .... when I write ... !!! ...
But ... i've got to say ... THIS ...
  
"That ain't ... ******* RIGHT ... !!!!!"
  
So ...  i'm fighting ...
...... RACISM ......
These Days ......
when I ... WRITE ...
  
while Police just ... DELIGHT ...
in ... beating Black Folks ....
til they're .............
  
"BLACKER than ....
  
NIGHT" .... !!!!!
  
Can this really be right ... !!!?!!!
  
These ... RACIST ... whites .... ARE ....
  
OHhhhhhh ...... Soooo ..... POLITE ... !!!
  
But ...
Don't want to ... "INVITE" ...
A time or place ....
where ... BLACK and WHITE ...
Can ... Try to... "UNITE" ......
  
But .... it's okay now ....
cos' Blacks be acting like ... Whites ....
now they're in the ... " LIMELIGHT " ...
  
Every ******* ... is ... "BLINGING" ....
with ... Custom Made ... Jewellery ...
  
"Correction" ..... ofcourse ....
that line should say .... "ICE" ....
  
See ... we ... DON'T ... Talk About....
Our .... "HUMAN" .... BLACK LICE ... !?!?!?!
  
Those ... " KILLING " ... Their Brothers ....
just for a slice ....
.... of ....
  
" Uncle Sam's Pie " ......
  
Well ....
The same rules ... apply ... !!!
  
The U.S. .... just wants them ...
to ... lay down ... and ... DIE ... !!!
  
cos' they ... Like The ... " British " ...
are just ... " FULL OF LIES " .... !!!!!
  
The UK's what ... I know ...
but this ... " LIE " .... Titled Prose ....
just goes to show .....
whether ...  HERE or THERE ....
The same **** ... flows ... !!!!!!!!!
  
From the ... LIES ... that they feed ....
to ... THOSE TRUTHS ... still ...
  
.............  "UNTOLD" ................ ???????
  
But ... NOW ... we've been told ....
  
Will Blacks ... "BREAK THE MOULD ?"
  
Well .... Probably ... NOT ... !!!?!!!
cos' ... most now ... have ... SOLD ...
Their ... TRUE SELVES ... behind ...
  
cos' now ... they're ... refined ...
and are ... STUCK ... in a Bind ...
B'cos' ... what they've ... Believed ...
Now ... leaves them ... " BEHIND " ...
  
THAT ...  Rock and Hard Place ... !!!
with visions ... " MISPLACED " ...
without .... recognizing ....
"NEW PROBLEMS" .... we face ... !!!
  
cos' ... White Moguls ... now know ...
what makes ... "*******" ... Break ... !!!
  
A Nice ..... Fancy Car .....
and .... *** .... on a plate ... !!!!!!
  
So ... YES ... Some DUMB ...
........ " ******* !!!" ..........
have ... Quickly ... got ... A.I.D.S .... !!!!!
  
cos' of ****** ... they've been ...
.......... " Bedding !!! " ..........
by their ... New ... Fireplace ... !!!
whilst telling ..... "LIES" ..... !!!
to their ..... Wives ......
  
Maaaannn .........
That ... ****'s ... A DISGRACE ... !!!!!
  
See ... this is a ... Trait ...
that now makes me ... Irate ... !!!!!
  
Some White Girls be .... "ACTING" ...
like .... "Black men are ... GREAT" ... !!!
  
But .......
"CANNOT" ..... take them ....
back to .... "Daddy's Place" ... !!!?!!!
cos' ... The Truth ...
then comes ... OUT ... !!!
  
They'd get a ... SLAP ... !!!
in their ..... FACE ..... !!!!!!!!!
  
B'cos daddy's ... Not Happy ... !!!!!
with the thought of his daughter ...
as a lamb to ... "BLACK SLAUGHTER" ....
  
cos' ... sounds that she's making ....
  
Sounds like *** ...
is ... " Pure TORTURE !!!!! "
  
and that's when his ...
  
"Lies and Untruths"
get ........ "Found Out"  ... !!!
cos' now her ... Black Boyfriend ....
gets treated like ... "GOUT" ... !!!
  
See ... These ... are the ... "LIES" ...
We ... "DON'T" ... talk about ... !!!
  
But ... This is ... "THE TRUTH" ....
  
coming out of ... My Mouth ...
or ... if you're a ... Reader ...
Yes .... Out of ... MY HANDS ...
  
Just think about this ......
and you'll ..... "OVERSTAND" ... !!!
that ... LYING .... comes easy ... to ...
..... "TRUE" ..... Englishman ... !!!
  
But .... LYING .....
...... to me .....
I now ... "OVERSTAND" ... !!!
  
It's fed ... YES ... to ... Man ...
and ... YES ... to ... Woman ...
  
to keep us from being ....
  
" UNITED " .....
  
..... as ......
  
" PEOPLE " .....
  
These things ...
  
" I BELIEVE ! " ....
  
have always been ...
  
" PLANNED "
  
cos' if people .... "UNITE" ....
The Divisions .... would ....
  
............. " DIE " .................
  
and then ...
People Like ..... "YOU" ......
and ... People Like ... " I " ...
  
could ... finally see ...
  
"THE TRUTH" ....
  
From the ...
  
.... " LIES " ....
  
Peace y'all and Recognise !!!!!

.via ghana: i iz welcome the haiku poetic extractionz of the maxim: full-on potentiality of - few words maximum effortz! one wishes to almost die from feng shui minimalism! chinese geomancy and european chiromancy (reading balzac et al.) - but the sigh poetic of pepsi max effort iz wot iz the breaking of the camel bonk and backß... last time i heard from a kenyan bartender... all the timber comes from ghana... as does the wheat from ukraine and the salt from poland... coal is always "elsewhere"... or no coal... wind... the wind comes from: far far away... beyond the language of the seven vowels...

it took much of an effort to have to overcome
a reading of Stendhal...
esp. when you find him in your teens..
almost impossible...

it's enough to visit a brothel:
once a year... perhaps skipping a year...
and there's enough body,
and skin, and warmth...
to contrast... what i'm yet to read about...
otherwise have read, i.e.:

2010s through the 2020 summary...
lucy holden now 29...
sexting, dating apps, bisexual flings
flatmates with benefits...
millenial serial dater...

all the details are already known...
mine? that strip-clup in athens on a whim
with two strippers either arm
burrowing my face solving the mole
in their cleavage...
the goodmayes borthel with the romanians
that said a very bulgarian word, once...

and who can ever forget
the south african cocoon ****-accusation
of: not unde the bed-sheets and please
oil up rather than dry-******* me...
or the thai surprise picked up
in a park and that a little bit of heavyweight
beer and some jazz and a garden shed will allow...
the number of times i've had ***...
well... what are fingers for?

the black girl with a coccyx like an iron maiden
attempting to tattoo itself onto my pelvis...
2nd time round?
i heard she had a child and his daddy
would be bringing him home the morning to come...
and this other black woman,
oh i mean: full detail - woman...
two children sleeping on the bed...
get dragged off...
thrown to the bed...
and i'm there to **** an imitation ******
of... a tight fold of legs...

it's not exactly **** but even with that:
i'm not a best fitter...
so tell her: it's not going to happen...
we pretend to sleep or at least i do...
when this afro-fur-ball with a plucking sound
of a smooch is standing at the end of the bird...
he's naked i'm naked everyone's naked
i pick him up like i pick up maine *****
and lay him on my chest...
i can't allow a river of fingers through
his afro tangles... so i pat them down...
and he falls asleep...

***... oh no ***** word about it monsieur!
just this *******...
oh but i'm glad that some girl nearing
her 30s has made up her mind up...
only recently i've heard that my mother was
attempting to woo a married man
who was part of the Solidary movement
and probably waiting for a greencard...
i heard this... from my grandmother...

i'm still pampering on the sly for
a Mary Antoinette...
Ilona was wrong... i wouldn't become
a child strapped to a hellhole of a teenager's bedroom...
i'd become a leech hybrid...
as along as i have enough excuses
to return for "the word"... and never rap it...
i'm fine fine... best be on my optimal behaviour...
to never find myself in a baptists' church choir...

- there's also a quick fix procedure...
the match of the day is watched
with the mascots on screen...
the ben-hur's not making it to
prophetic status... yes the bread...
yes the circus... and all those cul de sac...
soap operas of parking scenes...

and there's always language...
best expressed when drunk...
never sober because is what delves into
the formality of: dear sir / madam,
kind regards...

the day when i stopped combing my fair
and peered at the beard...
uncombed hair: almost reminds
me of donning a pineapple on it...
an ancient buddhist balancing act...
like performing the act of gravity...
without copernican mathematics...
as simple as finding the CENTER on
a bicycle... or like finding
buoyancy in a swimming pool...
perhaps i am more water than flesh...
but i'm also a fraction of fat...

i can float on water if i can find
the balance... i don't need to play
the drunkard treading water surviving
to stay afloat.... i... relax...
then i float.... or bob-on-the-surface
teasing an unexpected shark-bite-attack...
although: swimming in a sea
is not my thing...
i very much appreciate seeing
the bottom i can dive down toward
and touch... the chernobyl stink of chlorine...
is almost a parisian perfumery...

heat breeds diseases it breeds...
insects...
i abhor the heat...
the zenith of winter is yet,
is yet to arrive... and for the help of god:
i can't arrive at... writing sober...
should "poo'etry" ever be written sober
to begin with?
i mind: that i don't mind...

i can find 8pm and 9pm quite:
which implores you to not quit - curb colt...
i was making a sponge apple stuffing
roulade...
after having made some biscuit
with brown sugar and diadems of hazelnuts...
and prior to some sausage rolls...
three fillings...
cranberries with some peppers and
chillies...
fennel seeds with apple...
and the third... the third...
i don't quiet remember...

my head was exploding with a brain being
towed and all was:
i am yet to grieve a passing,
a tax of death...
i am yet to be left half imbecile and half
of any other texas hold-up poker game...
i'm wishing for...
that quarter of a million of a bet
i placed on:
one team wins...
but both have to score...
ergo... catching a mosquito by the testciles
donning boxing gloves chance...
2 - 1 etc. victories...

i don't want to blame women...
the last one i was serious about...
she's on her 3rd marriage or whatever...
and i'm still in woad: in deep blue
coinciding with...
god's roulette...

as a testiment of man...
there's the ambition to find: the void...
to find nothing...
and from that... find the thinking thing...
res vanus: the emptiness
that can be fathomed with more or less
thinking, than a yawn's presence...
because...
descartes doesn't really exact ontological,
whatever...
i can't be and be:
when i churn out a day-dream and
a day-dream is all that is...

thankfuly i have nothing to "work"
with... most women only have boredom to begin
with....
at exactly 20 minutes to 1am...
i'm not so sure...
a mother can say: you stink...
then you go and buy something from
a convenience store...
and the cashier stresses how fresh you smell...
that's quiet something...
a woman likes the way to smell to her...
in between doing these *******
tribunals of sweating over
apple roulades...

and Stendhal... it's only my mother...
i just have to gnash my teeth
and apply the burden of sober...
this canvas... no other...
i drink for the 1 hour pleasure
of disorientation...
a shot in the head in some Ukranian
prison...
stiched to the next to be executed...
chikatilo...
i'm not exactly fond of the company...
but i'm pretty sure...
kurt cobain... and his shotgun antics...

and how the prolonged death appeal
of Christine Chubbuck lasted much longer...
Kafka said it right:
a stab at the heart...
**** colt and boyo... don't aim for the head!
that's how Ukranian convicts die...
shot in the back of the head...
in a cell... never in the open...
it's not like the brain delves into
the automated unconscious of the pump
that's the heart... how do you think
the urban myth of the cockroach that lived
for 2 weeks more was born?
the head didn't have a mouth to ingest
food with...

shot in the back of the head is an execution
that, done in an Ukranian prison cell...
is pretty much all of Dante not visiting
either heaven or a hell...
but two weeks with... in the presence
of death... the body starving...
that magic finger-pointing exercise
of seeing death in movies?

well thank god they did a movie about
Christine Chubbuck's (rage against the machine):
bullet in the 'ed!
i was lied to, no matter...
i'm here to hush and sweep the leftovers...
because why would you march
a man into a prison cell...
shoot him in the head and close the door
and wait... because no: in the open...
with a chance for rabid dogs to feast on...
in the darkened night just shy of Kiev
would ever matter...

Christine Chubbuck was left dying on
life-support machines after her half-high Kiev
attempt to pop the balloon...
psych- myth of the brain as source
of the sigma soul...
my left toe has more soul than this
rubric forever explained as forever to be explored
goose-fat sponge...
come to think of it...
after a haemorrhage that no one believes
beside me, some neurologist and a dementia
riddled grandfather who easily forgot...

what's this brain this brain this nought?!
**** it... kamikaze cockroach!
as ever oh but always so much when
someone has to mention...
has to mention: with no exacting details
of fancy...

also called the drought period when pakistani
gangs are up in Leeds and i'm strapped
to the outlier Loon'don culture:
as ever playing the obedient schizoid...
because that's, just fair game...
centuries behind what the youth
of Denmark have to offer...
the mutterzunge and the l'inglese of:
any future of tourism with Jack's flag...

heavy influences stemming from
st. andrew and all the worth of wordworth
with a tinge of punk...
but never a baron of lexicon coming from
just shy of 4 hours away from
the lisp of masovian warsaw...

what could possibly be wrong?
how about... stemming it down to the root
of... sober people and the lacklustre of
when writing: under no influence at all...
apparently "now" the high moral ground!
the sobers usher in the words
that we are abide by when the football hooligans
their casual Tuesday mundane,
their casual Tuesday mundane custard
splodge of oats in regurgitation...

i can almost but not quiet...
imagine myself being the cameo in this dear diary
of these "free" women of the western world...
give me a feral black woman pulling
two kids from her bed in order
to imitate a ****** by folding her legs to
pretend...

it's still a bullet in the back of the head
for some, minor or major
andrei "cain" chikatilo -
no... with a full crop of cranium of hair...
and a grandmother that says...
well... how busy your chin hairs are...
that you are able to lodge a pencil in there
and it doesn't fall out...
hair here and all other hair elsewhere...
chest and... where the antioch identifier
of achilles ought to be of a six in sixes
packaged...

since who is buddha... or a christ when...
an thích quang duc "oops" happens...
the people will never leave their unison...
their get-together "happening"...
but what's to be celebrated should...
the crucifix be turned into that "other"
torture ordeal of being: piked...
crucifixion the tsunami wave of history...
when one can expect the fate
of being piked by the more imaginative
sorts?
if only the antichrist was gay
and was sentenced to levitate on a pike...
passion and ecstasy via
the Walhalla doing ****... again:
sorry if the pike missed the **** baptism
of ecstasy... and instead aimed
at ripping apart the flesh and bone at:
whatever pivot was made available
to work from reverse ingestion:
beginning with the pelvis...

i'm just tired and cooking and shooing
shadows for the past month and i know that it's
just an exaggerate lounge period...
and all i want is an added arm...
and the serenity leg to take the step to return to...
footsteps... with a bulging echo to command...

it needs to be stressed that these women were black...
i call them ivory beauties of chocolate come
quicksilver moon glistening...
i can't remember... no... "you're" right...
i never managed to **** anything
of an ethno-centric "perspective"...
i'd be arrested for that...
as if starting a hitlerjungen movement or
some other random "****"...

i'd package myself with a mexican strapped into
alcatraz...
the Louis of the Aztecs and some
long lost St. Juan of the Mayans...
leash me... Russian or Prussian or...
what's that third otherwise power of influence
that this body was allowed to morph into?

perhaps i once was allowed to control these words...
but that's how drinking goes...
it's a homocodie when you **** someone
when under the influence of alcohol when driving
a car...
this is a sort of homocide...
i trully gave my hands away to the devil...
and the brain: oh forget that old fabble of a pickle...
what's in brine was always supposed
to be in brine and pickled...

- and what were the chances of me becoming
a sentimental drunk... listening to some
crowded house - weather with you?
the la's - the la's... no... not merely the 1990s
epitome of h'american tourism lodged in london
of myth... as any ******... that myth translated
itself into paris... there she goes...
i mean the whole album...

whale! whale! a beached whale!
Grindadráp...
and some want to go on the Hajj...
and die in a human stampede at the Mecca...
but... well... some want to...
of all of Europe...
Venice, Paris, Rome, Athens,
Amsterdam, perhaps Edinburgh
(wink-wink nudge-nudge)...
Barcelona...
or... Grindadráp of the Faroe Islands...

capture a polyphony in language that is hardly
ever going to be much more
than a chance to... to do that...
shove three fingers into your gob...
expect an elevated volume of sounds...
call the hounds! a mile away!
i was never allowed to learn that
whistling "trick"...
perhaps that's why i never managed
to play the trombone or the clarinet...
the ****-poor leftover guitar...
which is as much as having to read
braille!

reality: i live in england but i'm a ******...
i haven't ****** an english girl...
or a ****** girl...
i was close! a ****** girl licked my face
like a cow, once...
chin, lips, nose and forehead...
i was actually waiting for e.t. when that
happened...
the pakistanis have all the english girls...
sorry... it's sad...
but... the australia...
the fwench... the russian...
it's a decent rubric...
crude... nuanced...
so is buying fwesh meat at the butchers...
the perfect crime is less severe...
fiddling with a tombstone...
then towing it for 2 miles...
to bury the remains of your cat...
after your neighbour "accidently" killed him
when you were away...
and of course they deny it...

after all... i live in a society...
innocent until proven guilty...
said jimmy saville...
it's not the old... european "misunderstanding"..
of guilty until proven innocent...
if not a real story of Tomasz Komenda...
there's the Shawshank Redemption...
or there's... the Count de Monte Cristo...

if all are innocent until proven guilty...
what's that? the genesis story never happens...
it's hardly a moral deterent...
isn't it? people will do as any aleister crowley
would command them to do:
do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law;
this is a naive presupposition of
fudge-packed jurisprudence...
what should have been egg-whites..
it merely some sugar dissolved in water...

statistical counts aside...
i would be more inclined to... fear...
being held guilty... to then be allowed "innocence"...
that to being held innocent...
to then be forced as a doubly-culprit!
how does the double jeopardy paradox arise...
from the high pillar of: innocent until
proven guilty?!
law is at one's own leisure...
should all be bound to an innocence...
revisions of the biblical metaphor...

if we can all be innocent...
wouldn't we at least all fathom an innocent
attempt to break some law?
for a matter of: testing the waters?
even if innocent until proven guilty is true...
there's no narrative of redemption...
why is it that the shawshank redemption
is such a popular movie?
since it adopts the continental motiff of:
guilty... until proven innocent...
it offers... redemption...
it's a popular movie because it's unfair
for the basis of a single individual...
not some amassing of victims of a jimmy saville
recount... that have... none... zilch...
no redemption!
their redemption: ist tod!

because if i were to be found guilty...
with no chance of defence...
i would exercise a double-think in relation to this...
rather than exercise this leisure into
grieving the orwellian zeitgeist monstrosity of
but the one novel...

i'm not convinced of the english model...
this... innocent until proven guilty...
this pontius pilate argument...
i'm not for it! this sinking to the core of my heart
and hopefuly, prevents me from a heartbeat...
perhaps so fewer examples of
the #metoo would come to the fore...
if... one were not so easily allowed
a ststus of innocence...
perhaps... guilty until proven innocent...
doesn't allow...
so readily accessed accusations...
perhaps this modern, english model of
jurisprudence...
is missing a medieval lisp?

as law abiding as would suggest...
i would be much more deterred from inacting
a grievance should i be found guilty...
without a benefit of a doubt of a jury...
than if i were to be given the a priori: innocent
status...

i don't like this: england and greenwich in tow
is the bellybutton of the world
demand of... all else is less than we...
no... did i come from Algiers?!
what has Algiers to do with it and Leeds
shouldn't?!

at least that's how a man sobers up...
while still drinking...
he might focus on sober demands...
of topics that only drunks should speak of...
and since neither of the two meet...

because i have stood as a witness
in a court...
and i was given a photograph to...
"compare" having identified him in a mugshot...
the photograph i was shown still
had a date imprinted on it...
and this was the ******* argument...
the photograph was years old...
i identified the culprit in the police mugshot...
but the case was "won"... for no apparent reason...
the witness said: i...
this photograph is years old...
i can grow a beard and hippy attire in a year's time...
of course i was the witness that said:
note down the registration plate
of the car this camel-jockey jumped out of
and grabbed m'ah fwends mobile...

i've seen how: innocent until proven guilty works...
i'm not conviced...
i can't be... there's something instinctual preventing
me from adhering to this english...
jurisprudent sensbility...
it's hardly a ******* charles dickens novel...
if it were... and i greatly underestimated
charles dickens... no... really...
i shouldn't have read any of dostoyevsky...
i should have read charlie ****'oh'ends...
believe me when i say that is hould have...
since... heidegger's ponderings VII - XI
will retain their shelf-status as... the book most
probably unread...

such is the sobering process...
am i, in no way, allowed to sacrifice my 'ed
on the premise that: innocent until
proven guilty is the right categorial imperstive
to buckle on... since...
the anglophonic world buckles on it...
like a spectacular breakdance feat of
a penguin on steroids...
doing the diving header tsunami
of chore: the crowd goes wild!
it's no operatic applause and being
"superficially" reminded as to how...
find your proper seat...
before the castrato peacock does his
singing bit...
apparently finding one's seat
when it's never going to be a maggot-pit
at a slipknot concert is all that's
about to happen...

come by the butcher's and let's attempt
in finding you some oysters
among the volume of red boisterous...
to replica your genital parts
and sordid caviar letfovers...

perhaps i could be angry...
but la ilah illa blah'lah...
i am... halway bound between
being simulation circumcised
and being castrated...
i never which is which...
notably, given...
circumcised men are not allowed
the impetus of taking up
web-cam Susan on promise of...
also pleasing themselves
without wanting to earn some money...

it's a real problem though:
innocent until proven guilty versus
guilty until proven innocent...
relish...
the english indiosyncratic
wishing they were scandinavian iceland...
no... honey too sweet tooth bear...
this is not how the GMP affair that exends
with its genesis in the jimmy saville affair
looks like...
this quest for: apparently "superior"
is not going to work on me...
kin of a kind-of luvvie dubby...
bon voyage!

the entire continent is listening...
individualistic rights...
innocent until proven guilty...
the more i reiterate these words...
the more i sober up...
because i can't see how...
i am: a thief...
until i am proved to be... a thief...
by having performed the act
of thieving...
or not even an "after"...

sorry... please expose your divine
rational intelligence and tell me
via a reiteration that 2 + 2 = 4...

i am not a thief,
but i am a thief...
only if the act of stealing is proved...
and if "the" act of stealing is not proved...
i'm way more than a thief...
i'm a thief with a baby driver!
this anglican logic *****...
if innocent until proven guilty...
is to sustain the individual flourishing...
i'd rather make theatre of the original,
biblical deterrent...
a queen of this sort of popish claims
and her duaghters of yorkshire because...
the pawns of justitia...

conventionality of continetal thinking...
there's not even a "what if" or
"it would be better" should... allow,
extended into:
guilty until proven innocent...
rather than... innocent until proven guilty...

i sometimes find myself chattering...
in the cold...
but i'm not chewing anything...
i'm pretending to pivot the piano on a ghost...
being played as some per se magician's
excavation of: whatever time...
thus it was spent...

i call it chattering chopin...
bite marks available... like the multitude
of signature most willing to be...
allocated a collection foreseeable...

the would the artichokes of arabia...
or the fennel roasted roots of Italy...
there's something to be had of a woman
sporting the "cherokee" leopard-skin prints
on something that's...
90% cotton and 10% lycra?!

and the reason why i visited a brothel
in the past ten years was because?
if i want to play poker...
i'll play poker...
easy ***? it's not so easy in the act
and you want to find a kiss and...
she tells you: it's against the laws
of this sort of nunnery...
but you still manage to slurp a lip or two
of a shy pluck of the tulips of the sea...
or however this thing that
language is works...
if it's not going to be a hammer and nail...
forever... this "excuse" to allow nothing
more than YA novels...
metaphors and... pedantry of elswhere
from punctuation?

herioglyphic assumptions of :) emoji?
wink barrel baron! oi!
non-responsive...
black also implies: ivory beauty...
i started to admire their teeth...
since mine were always going to be
custard yellow death grin...
like bone to the rot...

no... i'm pretty sure tonight ends
here; now;
the prodigy - destroy...
given how... keith flint...
and that horse... and it was never a tale
of the stormy badger...
and how the fox is my aid and will
never make it to...
transcend the red coat hunting parties...
because... just because.

precursor - title correlation
body -

mind of:

C                oh

    oh                      Ri

n'ah.   (half an hour fiddling with a 502 bad
gateway; traffic these days! jeez!)

I.

it don't know what's more frustrating for the reasons that it's so good... i can't choose... it's a close call... either listening to Red Hot Chilli Peppers' B-sides from By The Way... ugh! why didn't they release that as a double album! Stadium Arcadium was not that good as a double-album... all the prior albums are MAGIC... literally... for ****'s sake: GOLDMINE is literally just that... there's that... i can't concentrate on making my own translation of Ovid... i'm yet to scribble down the translation i have... i can't even drink my whiskey properly... the other frustrating focus? watching Armand Duplantis break his own world record of 6.21metres... the ****** has still at least 10cm in him! a record that will have to stand-still for the next 20+ years... i'll be dead before this record is broken... Сергій Бубка best be sleeping... i'm listening to the music, reliving the end of the World Athletics and trying to heel-myself-in-the-buttocks: better get a move on boy... hmm! "trying"... i'm actually heeling myself in the buttocks: no time to wait... one can wait for a bus... one cannot for one's own incentive... ol' Lizzy is coming up the mountain... she's coming with the proper closure of the 20th century... however many popes she outlived... however many prime ministers and american presidents... come on Lizzie... just one more year... i'm actually dying to spend money with whittle Charlie printed on the notes... my fingers are itching... but **** me... music so good By The Way should have been a double-album... no! Stadium Arcadium was not the salvagable double-album worth session... i'm getting "schizophrenic" vibes... i know that poetry is not an entertaining medium: it's a complacent self-congratulatory, thereupeutic load of *******... it's obnixious when staged: the exasperated art of speaking with speed... today i realised that i much prefer drinking to having ***... i like the preservation of my brain with a hard-on of itchy fingers than any actual ******* hard-ons... the knife opening oysters or plucking out the eyes of deer... best the eyes be gauged out... than having deer stare into car lights... hybrid confusions of static, motivated to move... frozen in a make-shift imitation of root and clay and copper: bam! one more statue down...

II.

it's no wonder why i'm not looking for a girlfriend, it's no longer bewildering why i'm not looking for a wife, at best i'm looking out for that ancient custom of Roman emperors: to become a foster father, a surrogate - i'm yet to find a match-up... i almost did, but she undermined my chances by undermining her own seriousness in such affairs... but clarity does come... as much as i might be a surrogate father to her son or daughter: i wouldn't be faithful to her... i would steal the night and run away into a brothel... but there's something else... the whole dynamic of publishing has changed... the whole idea of a library has also changed... i own more valuable books in my private collection than the public library of Romford... which is me peering at the dire straits of what the public is fed... i know why i don't aspire for pair-bonding... perhaps man so levelled aspired toward the imitation of birds a long time ago... perhaps swans are truly noble creatures: for one hears of widow and widower swans... perhaps parrots: born from those monstrous beasts that were the dinosaurs can imitate our talk... all that's this reality within the confines of "perhaps": nonetheless, it's all true... but perhaps being the mammal that i am... i moved from a community of chimpanzees into a solo-ride of imitation-bear... perhaps i only entertain the opposite *** on the encounter of ***... i couldn't land a conversation with a woman outside the constrictive-framework of work, so much so: i would abhor the mindset of men that go on dates with women: buy them food and then EXPECT... i leave that ******* out in my interactions... pay-up-front for what you're about to receive otherwise don't play cat while the woman plays mouse... or rather... a rat in cat's clothing: the woman therefore becoming a rat-trap... mind you: i can't think of a more terrible idea than the modern version of: eat first, **** later... at the old ****** proverb states: a hungry ****** is angry... a filled ****** is lazy... god forbid i ever become tempted by those dating sites... i'm currently looking for the original Latin text of Ovid's the Amores book 2 poem 6... why? what i have in my hand... and what i'm finding... it's like what Robert Pinsky remarked about once: TRANSLATIONS differ so much from one translator to another...

they have done it... UEFA are mad... just to get my
accreditation for the women's Euros final
at Wembley they're asking me to bring my passport
with me... so is Wembley the JFK of Florida
          space-shuttle launch? Houston? am i leaving
the country?
                but the girls have done it...
funny: some other people are still complaining:
IT'S TOO WHITE!
   there's not enough diversity in the team...
          that's me also planning to go and live
in Kenya and become a model for toilet paper...
i'm sure i could replace that known Koala bear /
golden retriever or perhaps i could go there
and model for soap adverts...
it just so happened that racial tensions (only football
could create them) rose up for a little:
just one night the day England lost to Italy
on penalty shootouts... because... 3 black guys
were playing a rigged roulette...
            then again? me? and the African heat?
fat chance...

find me the original Elegy VI: the death of Corinna's
pet parrot...
oh man... and her name was Polly...
i sat up late last night trying to find something
interest on the television...
bam! thank you ma'am...
                       kurt cobain: montage of heck...
sort of reminded me of...
                           a SCANNER DARKLY...
                           mind you: i sometimes do enjoy
a one-man show... or at least two...
there was this brilliant show in the West End...
Stones in his Pockets...
       two actors... sharing the roles of...
                  about 15 people each...
but it was back in circa 2001...
so... maybe it was Louis Dempsey
                                                        & Sean Sloan...
mind you... i'd still love to see Samuel Beckett's
             NOT I...

Jack Trades says: i'm about to a heap
of hay of hate...
                                i'm everywhere sometimes...
if it's not music, then its visual arts,
then it's philosophy, then fine literature...
then something "oriental" in thinking...
then its coupling my fetish for Deutsche as:
father to the English zunge...
then it's back east to rummage in some Katakana...

i know why i'm single, Roger Moore remained
a bachelor until his death...
  courteous: as ever as forever always...
i'd be a terrible match-up... i've given pair-bonding
a chance: i can't bemoan why X is not Y...
the sort of men that pair-bond are claustrophilic...
they love the company of a mate...
each time i was ever in a "relationship" i already
had one foot dangling: tapping an imaginary
drum set...
recently i discovered the B-side of the Red Hot Chilli
Peppers... so for me it's a version
of keeping the 20th century alive with
the "dichotomy" of the Rolling Stones vs.
the Beatles... i'm more... R.H.C.P.'s A-sides
of R.H.C.P.'s B-sides?
                                        i'm busy...
                i'm always busy... i don't want to relax...
i want a Turkish barber to suggest that
i need  hot-towel and an arm massage after
my beard is trimmed and... i'm still going to state:
getting a Turk to trim my beard is a close
contender to oral *** from a Turkish *******...

but try finding me that original Latin of Ovid's...
ah! found it! let's see if i can compete with
my own translation... the one i originally read
and the one i found finding the original Latin
were so disparaging...

**** yes! well... there was Ted Hughes writing
about the Crow... poor ******...
should have killed himself: might have competed
with his terribly-wonderful wife of a poet...
i give her that: what noose?
best head in an oven...
and you want a shovel with that?
but this is Ovid... "complaining" about
the death of his lover's parrot...
immediately i jumped to conclusions:
not enough crackers...

(A) the Original:

Psittacus, Eois imitatrix ales ab Indis,
    occidit—exequias ite frequenter, aves!
ite, piae volucres, et plangite pectora pinnis
    et rigido teneras ungue notate genas;
horrida pro maestis lanietur pluma capillis,
    pro longa resonent carmina vestra tuba!
quod scelus Ismarii quereris, Philomela, tyranni,
    expleta est annis ista querela suis;
alitis in rarae miserum devertere funus—
    magna, sed antiqua est causa doloris Itys.
Omnes, quae liquido libratis in aere cursus,
    tu tamen ante alios, turtur amice, dole!
plena fuit vobis omni concordia vita,
    et stetit ad finem longa tenaxque fides.
quod fuit Argolico iuvenis Phoceus Orestae,
    hoc tibi, dum licuit, psittace, turtur erat.
Quid tamen ista fides, quid rari forma coloris,
    quid vox mutandis ingeniosa sonis,
quid iuvat, ut datus es, nostrae placuisse puellae?—
    infelix, avium gloria, nempe iaces!
tu poteras fragiles pinnis hebetare zmaragdos
    tincta gerens rubro Punica rostra croco.
non fuit in terris vocum simulantior ales—
    reddebas blaeso tam bene verba sono!
Raptus es invidia—non tu fera bella movebas;
    garrulus et placidae pacis amator eras.
ecce, coturnices inter sua proelia vivunt;
    forsitan et fiunt inde frequenter ****.
plenus eras minimo, nec prae sermonis amore
    in multos poteras ora vacare cibos.
nux erat esca tibi, causaeque papavera somni,
    pellebatque sitim simplicis umor aquae.
vivit edax vultur ducensque per aera gyros
    miluus et pluviae graculus auctor aquae;
vivit et armiferae cornix invisa Minervae—
    illa quidem saeclis vix moritura novem;
occidit illa loquax humanae vocis imago,
    psittacus, extremo munus ab orbe datum!
optima prima fere manibus rapiuntur avaris;
    inplentur numeris deteriora suis.
tristia Phylacidae Thersites funera vidit,
    iamque cinis vivis fratribus Hector erat.
Quid referam timidae pro te pia vota puellae—
    vota procelloso per mare rapta Noto?
septima lux venit non exhibitura sequentem,
    et stabat vacuo iam tibi Parca colo.
nec tamen ignavo stupuerunt verba palato;
    clamavit moriens lingua: 'Corinna, vale!'
Colle sub Elysio nigra nemus ilice frondet,
    udaque perpetuo gramine terra viret.
siqua fides dubiis, volucrum locus ille piarum
    dicitur, obscenae quo prohibentur aves.
illic innocui late pascuntur olores
    et vivax phoenix, unica semper avis;
explicat ipsa suas ales Iunonia pinnas,
    oscula dat cupido blanda columba mari.
psittacus has inter nemorali sede receptus
    convertit volucres in sua verba pias.
Ossa tegit tumulus—tumulus pro corpore magnus—
    quo lapis exiguus par sibi carmen habet:
"colligor ex ipso dominae placuisse sepulcro;
    ora fuere mihi plus ave docta loqui".

mein gott... in English it reads so smoothly reading
it while listening to Red Hot Chilli Peppers'
B-sides... quixoticelixer...
teatra jam (short)... and then thinking about it...
through to and through Going Li coupled
with trouble in the pub (instrumental version)...

i will never own a car...
              mind you: i already secretely own a house...
if i keep appeasing my mother and my father:
when reality kicks in and they're dead and i'm
project solo... it's not like i'm waiting for the day...
they are hoarders of shoes and screws...
literally... no metaphor...
  on my own: i will have to recycle so much ****
before i will put the house on the market...
and? i never pledged any allegiance to Essex...
England... i have: pledged an allegiance
to the English tongue...
                 but if not the Shetland Islands...
north... "god" send me north! even as far as
Greenland!
                i'm not willing to die in a place where
villages are flaring up in a July heat...

i can't bemoan what i honestly couldn't keep...
i sometimes get mad at my father for being
so submissive to my mother...
i sometimes get so mad at my mother for only
being able to talk about her chronic pains:
i'm alligned with my grandmother
who once said: she's just like your paternal
great-grandmother... every itch and scratch...
it's like writing with chalk on a blackboard...
hey presto! ruptures of the Grand Canyon...
that ******* bollocking of: ooh! ah!
           me? i don't understand people with tattoos...
me? i collect scars...
these two fading ones on my face are a disappointment...
i thought something more pronounced
could be kept from that bicycle-crach Francis Bacon
esque imitation of painting:
   the sort of painting where you can still revel
in brush-strokes being visible...
   because it's not rigid: Renaissance form painting...

now: i can sort of imagine what men couple up...
those who fear being alone...
those not interested in art...
those mostly interested in sport... but not all sport...
just some sports...
sports that they support "passing their lineage"
with according to the cult of football teams...
not all-sports... i.e. not an interest in fencing...
swimming... certainly guys who thought:
wow! tennis is great to watch!
   but squash is so much more fun to play!
cycling... well... if you love cycling per se:
watching other people cycle is a bit: BOO-RING...
what sort of other men get married?
probably those not interested in risque ***
with prostitutes...
ones interested in making money for a woman
to spend...
me? i'm not interested in money...
                       in terms of money:
i'm more likely to spend £30 on a book than
think about a dinner date...
                      
is that...   ??? i'm not even going to ask myself
that question that begins with a buzz-word
and the letters Mmmm... miso...
                             well... what is a boy to do...
figure out what to do with his spare time...
               i don't mind cleaning the house:
who ever said that it's the duty of a woman to keep
the house clean? i like living in a household in order...
i love cooking: it's like chemistry 2.0...
                      give me a bag of Indian spices and i'll
cook up a perfect storm of a curry...
but then again: i'm not work-shy when it comes
to using heavy-duty tools akin to the KANGO...
which... i later found out was a Japanese word for
Chinese in general... or the other way round...
i'd hate to be one of those Phil Collins types of
forgetting how many hands i have
by changing gloves like i might be an octopus...

and when it comes to children?
eh... it's enough for a boy in a buggy in a supermarket
pointing his finger at me as i walk past
making that chimpanzee face of OOH at me...
or a fist-bump with some teenagers at the London
Stadium... that's enough... i'm happy to play
the "secret uncle" role...
while women remain women: as fickle as the wind...
i've learned to live with that reality...
i scratch my beard and pretend that i'm playing
a violin...

plus, i'm a terrible drinker... i'm a loving-drunk...
i'm drunk right now...
if a litre of whiskey per night satisfies
my libido shortages i'm happy:
it implies i can write... i stop drinking and start
*******: alles goot...
                           today i was visited by a wasp...
i was visited by a bee before...
oh man... it was heart-breaking...
he was dying... i had to help him...
   i poured some honey onto the pave-,
and moved him towards the puddle...
he stuck his mighty Gene Simmons sucker out
and started to perform an OD on sugar...
i was glad... watching him die from a sugar-overdose...
it was: rather pleasant to watch...

TERROR! mix JAINISM with TAOISM
and fuse that in an European mind...
               but i'll still eat meat...
                        it's a parody of what's to be expected:
i prefer life with the possibilities of change...
with... curiosities of: extensive ulterior
possibilities that run counter to estblished norms
of expectations of a RIGID MIND...
i water: i flow...
      i fire: i dance...
i air: i whirl...
i earth: i rumble...
i lightning: i blink...
hey presto! the five elements!

in another language close to my heart:
since i was born with it...
the pronoun disappears:
ja woda: płyne
ja ogien: tańcze...
   ja powietrze: kręce się (odd)
ja ziemia: trzęse się (also "odd")
ja grzmot: mrygam

there are languages in existence where pronouns
hide... to be honest...
in ******? the pronouns are rarely used...
oh mein gott... when they're used in a sentence:
esp. the I... it's like... wow! i just found
a "nugget of gold"!
seriously... that how my mother-tongue
is structured: on English is the current
prounoun-circus available to watch...
i'm siding with the Somali pirates having
a giggle... playing blackjack with either Greeks
or some other Africans...

there are languages in English that cannot: will not,
succumb to the current Marxist onslight
happening in this tongue...
not because these languages will not:
they CANNOT...
mind you... it's such an intellectual low-bar
of achievement... but since it's piggy-pop...
it must be slaughtered on an individual level
before this DISEASE is allowed to spread...
thank heavens that English is only my second
language... how that allows me to bypass
buying into any sort of propaganda...
   my lingua Ingelese... my tongue for spreading
ideas...
    oh: and thank **** i' expressing in a medium
desecrated by the same people pushing these
sordid ideas... post-humous fame! 'ere i come!
obviously! who's in it for the "real" and immediate
if one isn't... fabricating a pickling of a shark
in plastic.... who? who?! woof!
   a-woooooo"

            my heart has shrunk and hardened to
the size and hardness of a pebble...
    i wish i could entertain cosy nights with a woman
watching some pointless movie about
the stereotypes of love... then again: no...
i'd rather not...
drinking alone: who the hell said i was alone?
i sometimes "hallucinate" someone crying:
of late... i'm like: this isn't Aud Lang Syne...
this isn't Shakespear...
then again i love the idea that my true readers
are yet to be born...
i'm happy, happy-bear-alone...
                       a Maine **** is sleeping in my
bed... i'll join him come the right hour...
but he's not looking at me... he's looking above me...
only yesterday i started to paparazzi
a wasp that flew into my bedroom...
          what the **** do i have above me?
please say letters... i will not do alright with a halo...
i'm not going to join that
archangel one minute... saint the next...
clip my ******* wings for a get-through-easy
card: no!
          
it became finalized today... i'm literally tired
of ***... i'm tired of *** when it's equivalent to not...
being tired of eating food... drinking water...
it's unnecessarily-necessary... *** as golf...
per say...
                2 months of delay in payment...
i'm thinking about rekindling my affair with that mountain
bike... i have to forget the streets...
i need the woods again... but for that i need new tires...
oh... hell... i no longer have anything
to prove in the brothel... blah blah whatever...
threesomes look great: LOOk...
like a block of cheddar looks great...
when shredded...
and then melting...
perhaps in pornographic flicks...
but in reality? the changing of condoms
from one mouth to another...
from one ****** to another...
                          
what?! peiple are having unprotected ***?
vermin ****?!
   **** me... well... at least i'm obnoxiously savvy
in that regard...
no no... it's too disappointing...
you have to split your attention up...
there's nothing good about a *******...
why? because, usually... of the two girls...
there's one you really want to be a screwdriver to...
while the other is just being a, *******...
a ******* bandwagon... leftovers...
a pair of **** you get to imitate ****** with...
it's a bit like:
coupling an elephant with a giraffe...
but i want to ride the elephant!
but i want to stroke the giraffe's neck!
but  i want to pretend the elephants's tusk...
no! not tusk! TRUNK....
that rectangular bit of ******* you shovel
your clothes in when travelling...
TRUNK... or a TRAMPOLINE!
no... not the bouncy layer...
TRUNK... sneeze! trambone! jazz! ******* Miles Daisies!
Davis!  trumpet *******!
no... don't get me started on the sax...

then again: i want a rhino's horn! ram-jam...
Black Betty Bam B'eh Lam!

- oh no... i moved along... R.H.C.P.'s: thanks for the t-shirt...
Big Bukowski style:
i hate the eagles... run through the jungle...
run Forrest! whun!
WHUN!
  and that's me... hardly a LAMNTIA of the Beatniks
tripping... me? enough whiskey
and the right song... and i'm grooving beside
an imaginary drum-kit...
in that: once upon a time...
when men grew their hair long...
they were the barbarians knocking
on the gates of Rome... rather than being
the implosion of Rome within with
all of Rome's degeneracy of transgender gimmicks...

mind you: i've given it some thought...
i broke it down toward the following schematic:

anonymous audience, commenting,
video making blah blah...
****** "schematic": if you can call it that...
mind you: the VAR in WIETNAM
had the best soundtrack...
just saying: hey! her?! hey! don't shoot
the messanger!
i'd rather work the Fulham opening night
with the new stand: Thames-side being opened
than attend Wembley for a Westwood...
Westworld... Westlife concert,
i'm all up for handling those Scousers:
northern monkeys?
southern fairies...
let's just call them for what they are...
northern TOURISTS...

but the dynamic of publishing has changed:
i already know the criterium first...
women and children first...
THIRST beccause water matters...
i'm thirsty too... one litre of whiskey and
i'm still typing like a machine...
i'll box my liver and kidneys
as long as i keep my brain and eyes happy...

but it's just a different dynamic...
the internet experience...
i know a lot of people miss it...
i can't force people to read my bollocking-riddles...
ergo? i don't stagnate into celebrating it
or therefore advertising it...
i'm either read or i'm STAUB...
   dust...
                
i can't! i'm only making something available...
i can't force people out of their democratic "wedlock"...
you like it? great! you don't? great!
but the psychology of those video creators that
mind how many views they receive and
how many comments they: likewise receive...
"false hits" with the number of hits of viewership?

me? i'm not bothered... i've been watching
the female Euro finals...
i was almost scared... what if the female England team
don't make it to the finals?!
me? i'm gearing up...
any rowdy hooligans up to speed?!
as much as i hate women not trying toi compete
in sports that are sexually-exclusive...
there's this... THIS... i watch the games because
the Colleseum is burning...
i'm only watching the fire...
    and i'm watching the women i'd love to ****...
this never would have happened if watching
tennis...

    the crisp biting attache of a sharpshooter
WONG sort of mixer-mix-up with a whiskey
and a pepssi...
me... reaching for a second glass
with one already filled like: *******... RAINMAN...

keep your horses!
i'm gearing up to a translation!
wait, the, ****, up! keep it cool in Doob-Lyn!
oh no... you don't get to tell me
i use too many vowels without me showing
you... you mishandled the vowel-to-consonant
dynamic... Doob-Lyn is Dublin: tow me...
no: not to me? tow me... now you're dragging me
along the snail-trail...

the disparaging translations:

(B) the A. S. Kline translation

Parrot, the mimic, the winged one from India’s Orient,
is dead – Go, birds, in a flock and follow him to the grave!
Go, pious feathered ones, beat your ******* with your wings
and mark your delicate cheeks with hard talons:
tear out your shaggy plumage, instead of hair, n mourning:
sound out your songs with long piping!
Philomela , mourning the crime of the Thracian tyrant,
the years of your mourning are complete:
divert your lament to the death of a rare bird –
Itys is a great but ancient reason for grief.
All who balance in flight in the flowing air,
and you, above others, his friend the turtle-dove, grieve!
All your lives you were in perfect concord,
and held firm in your faithfulness to the end.
What the youth from Phocis was to Orestes of Argos,
while she could be, Parrot, turtle-dove was to you.
What worth now your loyalty, your rare form and colour,
the clever way you altered the sound of your voice,
what joy in the pleasure given you by our mistress? –
Unhappy one, glory of birds, you’re certainly dead!
You could dim emeralds matched to your fragile feathers,
wearing a beak dyed scarlet spotted with saffron.
No bird on earth could better copy a voice –
or reply so well with words in a lisping tone!
You were snatched by Envy – you who never made war:
you were garrulous and a lover of gentle peace.
Behold, quails live fighting amongst themselves:
perhaps that’s why they frequently reach old age.
Your food was little, compared with your love of talking
you could never free your beak much for eating.
Nuts were his diet, and poppy-seed made him sleep,
and he drove away thirst with simple draughts of water.
Gluttonous vultures may live and kites, tracing spirals
in air, and jackdaws, informants of rain to come:
and the raven detested by armed Minerva lives too –
he whose strength can last out nine generations:
but that loquacious mimic of the human voice,
Parrot, the gift from the end of the earth, is dead
The best are always taken first by greedy hands:
the worse make up a full span of years.
Thersites saw Protesilaus’s sad funeral,
and Hector was ashes while his brothers lived.
Why recall the pious prayers of my frightened girl for you –
prayers that a stormy south wind blew out to sea?
The seventh dawn came with nothing there beyond,
and Fate held an empty spool of thread for you.
Yet still the words from his listless beak astonished:
dying his tongue cried: ‘Corinna, farewell!’
A grove of dark holm oaks leafs beneath an Elysian *****,
the damp earth green with everlasting grass.
If you can believe it, they say there’s a place there
for pious birds, from which ominous ones are barred.
There innocuous swans browse far and wide
and the phoenix lives there, unique immortal bird:
There Juno’s peacock displays his tail-feathers,
and the dove lovingly bills and coos.
Parrot gaining a place among those trees
translates the pious birds in his own words.
A tumulus holds his bones – a tumulus fitting his size –
whose little stone carries lines appropriate for him:
‘His grave holds one who pleased his mistress:
his speech to me was cleverer than other birds’.

(C) the  P. Green translation

parrot, that feathered mimic from India's dawlands,
is dead. come flocking, birds, to his funeral:
come, all you godfearing airborne creatures,
beat ******* with wings,
   mourn, claw your polls, tear out soft feathers
(your hair), and pipe high your sad lament.
Philomela, nightingale, the ancient crimes of Tereus
which you lament is long past -
    divert your grief to the obsequies of a rare and modern
bird: poor Itylus' case was tragic, but antique.
all wind-borne voyagers through the clear empyrean
lament now, and above all his friend the turtle-dove
they lived in complete agreement,
    their bond of faith held firm to the end.
what Pylades was to Orestes or Argos, that Parrot,
turtle-dove was to you - while fate allowed.
yet of no avail your devotion, your rare and beautiful
plumage,
your adaptable mimic's voice;
    not even the care that my darling lavished on you -
poor Polly, paragon of birdhood, is dead.
so gree his feathers, they dimmed the cut emerald;
scarlet his beak, with saffron spots.
no bird on earth could copy a voice more closely
or sound so articulate.
fate, jealous, removed him - that unaggressive creature,
that talktative devotee of peace,
with his tiny appetite , whose love of conversation
left him little leisure for food,
who lived on a diet of nuts, used poppy-seed to encourage
sound sleep: kept his thirst at bay with nothing but water.
quails spend their whole life fighting -
maybe that's how they reach a ripe old age.
carnivorous vultures, kites gyring high in the heavens,
weather-wise jackdaws, prophets of rain to come,
are all long-lived - while Minerva's bête noire, the raven,
can outlast nine generations. yet Parrot is dead,
that loquacious parody of human utterance,, that bonanza
from the eastern edge of the world,
greedy death almost always pickss off the best ones early -
it's the third-raters who reach a ripe old age.
Thersites attended the funeral of Protesilaus;
Hector was ashes while his brothers still lived.
what point is recalling the desperate prayers my sweetheart
uttered?
some stormy sirocco blew them out to sea.
six days he survived, and then, at dawn on the seventh,
his thread of destiny ran out.
yet somehow, though dying, he could still find utterance,
and the last words he ever spoke were: 'Corinna, farewell!'
beneath a hill in Elyium, where dark ilex clussters
and the moist earth is for ever green,
there exists - or so i have heard - the pious fowls' heaven
(all ill-omened predators barred).
harmless swaans roam after foot there, there dwells
the phoenix, that long-lived, ever-solitary bird;
there Juno's peacock spreads out his splendid fantail
amid the billing and cooing of amorous doves;
and there, in this woodland haven, the feathered faithful
welcome Parrot, flock round to hear him talk.
his bones lie buried under a parrot-sized tumulus
with a tiny headstone bearing these words:
r.i.p. Polly: this tribute from his loving mistress:
articulate beyond a common bird

the thought of LEMONS or perhaps
the IDEA of lemon...
then again: i can't refrain from
ORANGES and LIMES...
and the shy-sunlight of autumn
and the blooming of apples...
and operas...
             "someone"...
                              what pretty pies of
unfuckable wonders await...

divert your grief to the obsequeies of a rare and modern
bird: poor Itylus' case was tragic, but antique
(antiquated?).
all wind-borne voyagers through tge clear empyrean
lament nowm abd above all
his friend the turtle-dove, they lived in complete
agreement
   their bond of faith held firm to the end.
what Pylades was to Orestes of Argos, that, Parrot,
turtle-dove was to you - while Fate allowed,

i'm not even going to bother with a "bananna C"...
i woke up wild-awake with ideas...
brimming with Tao...
"non-doing" id est: point PROVEN
or rather point SERVED?!

Russia and China are clashing...
or rather sparring...
they're having their civilization-state
agenda being put in place...
while there's a "culture-war" in the "west"...
right... James Bond...
so we're refrrering to nation-stattes
as post-nationhood...
  "states"...
                    precursors to the globalist agenda
of fake space exploration via the ******* telescope...
if Russia and China are civivilasation-states...
then... whatever culture "war" is investing in:
or rather: digressing into... impliies
the FSA (federal states of america)
             is a culture-state...
                                                ­                 no?

personally? i don't like the current h'American culture...
it's absolute *******...
no! i'm not going to translate any more of Ovid...
i already read the better translation...
i found out only two minites ago that
i prefer drinking to having ***...
and keeping an eye on cats is just as rewarding
as rearing children: if you allow yourself
to give them a personality...

           so Russia is a civilisation-state...
while America is a culture-state...
                    well... no wonder...
                                            America is the zenith
that could be: but doesn't have to be
preserved...
the culture-state-of-the-sand-*******...
i wish: the Arabs clocked in lucky...
sitting on so much raw ill of oil...
bounce bounce libido bounce bounce...

hmm... "inner monologue"... i had that "thing"
once... i kost it... turning psychotic...
then again: within the confines of having
an internal monologue? i was passive...
       i was a passive agent...
                         upon losing it: having my soul
evaporate: becoming an "N.P.C."...
i became an active agent...
i opened my eyes a second time...

           i think my inner monolpogue became blocked
by:
został wyciszony... bo zaczoł być cykliczny,
tzn. nie po prostej:
       wymarł według koncepcji
sprawiedliwości...

even i know: the gods uttered the words:
shut the **** up! we know you're right!
but we're playing roulette!
shut the ******! we're playing cards!
shut up!
wait! wait your turn!
**** me, given the prowess at attaing
a concept of the differential of space comparing
time... i.e. speed... i'll be karma-happy
once i die...

i'm not translating the rest of that Ovid...
a girl's parraot died... great!
now i'm thinking about:
a bicyckle is a terrible idea... to ride...
on the roads towards St. Paul's... i think i might
require a horse!
i need a horse! bring me a hood, a hoof,
an apple and a toothbrush!
the last place i'm thinking about moving
to is California...
   and thank no god for that...
just the people who already live there.

III.

i sooner discovered the rare B-sides of Red Hot Chilli
Peppers than having realised... oh right...
they release two albums after By the Way...
i completely forgot about those two...
               guess i'm not as big a fan as i thought i was...
Go Robot... it's not oh so wo terrible now, or anymore...
oh woah woe... what a whale to ride into the night...

sometimes it just happens, a sort of blend of an Ezrra Pound
and a Charles Olson moment, poem, moment-poem...
it stretches for three days and you just don't want
to finish it... you kept repeating yourself writing seemingly
aimlessly with no focus...
at this point writing becomes theraputic...
by the simple act of writing: not theraputic regarding
what you're writing about: memories of frustration and
complications having finished Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus...
unlike those joyous frustrations with Samuel Beckett's
Watt...
                  and on the third day "he" finished painting
four metal chairs a new colour of copperhead...
a copperneck painting chairs copperhead...
to me the colour of copper is more appealing than
that of gold...

if i still had that inner-monologue people speak of
i wouldn't be writing this,
that inner-monologue fantasy i once was a proud owner
of: i.e. the closest "thing" to the idea of soul
was also filled with so many doubts...
i simply don't care what the supposed benefits
of it were... that whole no-inner-monologue ergo
one's an NPC (non-playable character)...
    i remember that that when my first psychotic episode
slammed me on a rampage i started to see DIFFERENTLY...
it was as if a veil was lifted from my eyes...
if i didn't write terrible poetry back then...
i most certainly wrote very little...
             the inner-monologue doubts... a plethora of them...
no? psychosis = the osmosis of soul...
   the body has remained... the devils said:
but these idle hands and this idle intellect have to stay...
we'll pass on the message with your soul
as it leaves your body...
call it whatever you want:
   res vanus or the silence of the "mind"...
that's how you become more of an active agent...
it might be called writing but i call it digging...
a tunnel toward some variaton of: marrying Hades
with Tartarus...
                after all... Venus is the daughter of titans...
and she's the only Titan among the Olympian gods:
such is her perfection... almost on par with
   the patron of philosophers that's Sacred Sophia:
who entertains the foolishness of elder men
without being able to tell them apart from boys...

IV. if i were to translate Amores II. XI

would i be willing to add a D in the translation sequence?
i don't think so
there's no need... i like comparing the two i already
made available...
i just wanted to stress how unbelievable Latin is...
compared to the modern tongue, for example English...
how compact it is!
- and course, i prefer the second translation...
     it... exfoliates!
                     this is the point for me where i truly appreciate
Ovid to be on par with Horace...

side by side walking through the zenith-nadir of
man...

   i'm finally come across a sequence of events that
make me unwilling to stop typing: perhaps if i get
drunk enough and stumble on my first typo
perhaps a series of typos would end my ambition...

do i think men in the west are living
in a land of libido-insomnia? i think they are...
whoever said that watching one type of pornogrphy
soon spirals out of control and men start
scouting for more extreme *******:
hello outlier A! hello outlier B!
where's outlier C? oh... he's coming...
at a time when women are supposed to be these
sexually liberated creatures while men
are either STAGS with harems or limp biscuit *****...
thank god i managed to catch the train
of having the ***** of walking into a newsagent
and buying a pornographic magazine to ******* to...
stashed about six in a folder behind
the radiator in the bathroom at 21B Beehive Lane,
Gants Hill...
                         mind you: i started prematurely...
8?
     i switch off with western ****** antics:
people are either having too much ***: ergo the kinks
or not enough of it...
outlier in the middle: when it's too hot
i leave the insects to do their lineage pride...
cooler temperatures: *** like rubbing sand-paper
on a ****** paint-job...

                         makeshift boney **** of the hand...
well: at least ******* makes me more interested in
the **** than **** ***...
but i did the opposite... i need to keep a sack-of-sanity
atop my head...
beside adoring the Katakana...
i very much adore Japanese tamed sexuality...
     グラビア アイドル (gurabia aidoru)...
back in the day when the English tabloid newspaper
the Sun had a page 3 girl...
back to basics... a show of *******...
    a show of cleavage... perhaps even the breast
like the eye... the sclera of the rounded breast...
the darkened skin at the iris and then the pupil
as the ******...
  floral patterns of the *******...
                  back to basics...
                           a photograph of a naked woman
and all the imagination at work: what wouldn't
i want to do with her?

well... if you begin pleasing yourself while concentrating
on the kiss between Venus and Cupid
in one of Bronzino's beauties of paint-strokes...
you're hardly going to go down a rabbit-hole
of "hide and hide": wihtout seeking it out...
people and thier kinks...
while a minority: dodo-project sexuality of
homosexuality is celebrated: garnerded unto the guise
of "pride": i can't stomach shame...
but hey: look at me! i'm about to parade my sexuality
like and ******* latex-clad gimp readied
for being given ***-favour-orders...

outlandish! god-forgiving god-fearing...
  hardly every god-loving...
           a settling in of a blue that's not the sky
but a melancholy... i'm finally willing to end this
"diatribe"... to start afresh... again and again...
like mixing: Dreams of a Samurai with
Hans Zimmer's spectres in the fog...

                      my ***: going back to figuring out
the premature adventures into ***...
one boy passing on the secrets of *******
to another while sharing a bath:
the cruel curiosity of the circumcision:
in a secular environment: without the kippah
or the niqab: the submission of the women...
i will not give up the "sheath" to my "sword"...
i will keep my teeth with my twirling tongue...
if ever an improvement on the aesthetics?
clipping the ears of Dobberman dogs...
banning clipping the clipping of their tails...
but still: the preserved atrocity of male circumcision...
i could agree...
once a woman is devoted to her man...
a circumcision like putting on a wedding ring...
noble swans... oh noble swans...

a melancholy that's sort of azure...
amass enough water and you will see blue...
amass "too little": freeze it...
a paleness somewhat grey...
but then the icebergs roaming that are
the Cistercians...
            all i need right now is for some lonely
dog to start barking into the night...
or the cackling "laughter" of a fox...
    
    but all those sexless lives...
            "lucky" me for taming my consumption down...
where would i be without it?
i didn't ask for a *******...
i wa offered it... i will never forget how she clamoured
for the opportunity...
she couldn't stomach being rejected twice...
she just had to clamour like a crab in a crab bucket...
even if she thought she thought she succeeded:
she was the spare wheel...
what i've learned... i prefer one-on-one interactions...
but i gave in...
   it would have never worked out:
not like it "works out" in pornographic flicks...
the sharing of saliva and other juices...
we're responsible adults...
unlike in the pornographic flicks...
          two women: one man...
the changing of condoms...
                           i had to think quick:
there's only one way i will not be undermined...
snuggling up to the one i really wanted
to spend an hour with...
                       kissing neck and cheek...
while she did a hand-job...
   the other just sat there sort of idle...
                          until i figured out... those *******
could be of some use...

- i couldn't pull off a Jesus look...
long hair and a beard is not my "thing"...
even with a sly undercut...
i chose the better option.... short hair, a beard, yes,
but a "fu manchu": an elongated love-spot...
competing with the length of the beard...
i really "don't understand" why i have no memory
of my chin and neck...
it's like there was never the idea of using
water as a mirror... perhaps poor Xerxes lashed
at the Aegean for hiding his reflection
when he had one of those Narcisstic moments
of anguish: he forgot how he looked like...
but then the sides of the moustasche also drooping:
elongated... that work much better than
a beard and long hair...
it's so unfashionable these days...
i don't get why men think beards and long hair
"work"....

then again i never figured out why Khadira
wanted to have unprotected ***...
  how she insisted that it was just plain o.k.
for me to ******* into her...
how i snapped and dived in into her pandamonium
of multiples springs of irritated ****...
all slobbering with oyster-tongue
and knose...
                               all that informed me...

companionship? what a rare commodity...
it's enough to have a mother to know
how a woman's company can quickly sour
the already sweet grapes...
one word: tell a man he's LAZY...
while he's just tired of being pushed and shoved...
if a mother can do that to a son?
what could a wife do?
                          and i'm come across curiosities of
men who waged wars with their mothers...
at the Tyson Fury boxing match...
i was trying to calm the **** down a guy
who was having a panic attack after being
"abandoned" by his mother...
who bought the tickets... and drinks...
i squeezed him hard... told him: but i'm here for free!
nay! i'm here and getting paid for it!
blah blah...
               i hate seeing panic attacks in men...
it makes me either feel like
more than a man or less of a man...
it makes me think of the men prior
with shell-shocks... or women exploiting
the challenges of p.t.s.d.

                                    i've seen so many people fake
a mental illness... i've spoken at length
to them... how easily open up to their own struggles...
while i'm left alone with whatever ones
i have...
                   maybe because my "mental health issues"
have morphed into philosophical caviats
implies that i'm immune to outright sharing
the details... and boring people to death...
so i listen...
        i listen...
                            in one ear out the other...

i remember days in high school when we would love
to change the subject, create a game:
SLAP-BALL... imitation of Tsar Peter III prior
to tennis... an imitation court... with a fence between us...
or just playing BLACKJACK...
cards... that was big... we understood that ignoring
women was best done with / by playing cards...
at one point: i remember it to this day...
Samuel Richards grabbed Ian Goodman's neck
and pinned him to the floor...
we tried to intervene...
i don't know whether it was about the actual
game of cards or whether it was about
Sam bailing out... he was about to move to France...
and ****** off from pur in-group...
started playing basketball with the black-boys...
forgot he was supposedly the "PUNK" in the school...
i remember skateboarding with him...
he actually stole his mother's credit card and bought
a skateboard for me...
but his ******* MOHICAN was ****...
it didn't entertain the entire length of his skull
meeting his spine...
but we did walk back from Romford
toward Ilford this one night...
underage drinking... singing Backstreet Boys songs...

ha ha...
         time is a museum of melancholy...
while space is a museum of furthering whatever is left
of leftover potential...

i'm so despondent about this life having to end...
today i cycled up to the traffic lights
on my ******... ******?! £125 viking road bike... say the word
****** one more time... what was i facing?
a solitary man in an Aston Martin...
behind him? some solitary guy in a Porsche...
right... "alphas"...
i'm on my bicycle... but these two guys
in those choicest of motor-examples?
that's the thing with "competing" in life rather than
sport...
     i like my bicycle... i love my bicycle...
i am yet to wash away the blood from my head
from the crash...
i don't have a broken leg: i just have an outgrowth of bone
on my shin where my bone should have cracked:
i love milk...

competing with these men... **** me...
i was thinking about the Porsche guy...
nice game... but it's not playing cards...
i taart myself up: compete...
what do i get? i get a Porsche...
     but then ahead of me there's this guy
in an Aston Martin: mate! i'm ******!
oh blue blue Hue... the Aston Martin looked like
the bomb that is already was...
the Porsche? the Porsche looked like
a ******* Ford Mondeo by comparison...
Civic Extra... if that's even a car...
i was sort of happy to by cycling...
i figured... well: i'm not using my legs...
to walk... i'm peddling...

ever heard the expression "push-bike"?
i heard that only recently... what a werid coupling
of words... a motorcycle is distinguished from
a a bicycle by the term: "push-bike"
this half-brain-dead coworker...
what the **** am i pushing?!
it's just as weird as calling it a peddling-bicycle, no?
eh?
but what am i pushing? a bicycle is a bicycle
a turtle is a turtle... i still have to figure out
what's being pushed...
what comes first? the donkey, the carrot, or the stick?!

mawn the lawn: sieve the sand...
mawn the lawn: sieve the sand...
keep nurturing the spacing between numbers
but also keep lost track of the alphebticaal
queue...
never the type to rehash a refurbishment
of SPAWN...

           i simply don't want this day-dream to end...
around me people cowering into sleep...
i'm left in limbo...
            between consetllations and the scythe
of the moon... dearest: moooooon...
i'm itching to break the silence with a howl...
but first: the thirst of a dog barking...
i hear a dog barking i'll start to howl!

aren't we simply becoming the same
tired people of old?
              more impetus...
more gravity! more fire! more tides!
more the quaking of the earth!
more whirlwinds! more! more!
one Pompeii is not enough!

                       almost one litre of whiskey
into the session and i'm sober-tense...
i'm starting to think that entertaining
hell is not a bad "gimmick"...
                  there's the imaginary hell-crowd
and there' some also doubly-imaginary
crowd of people that yet to be bound to imitation-migration
focus...
           next time you ask me:
i'd rather be eating ice: crunching on
ice than drinking water...
i want to burn my tongue...
licking ice...l i want to burn my tongue
licking ice: but first i want to be dipping
it in coridnader-cumin-chilli-turmeric mix-up
of spiders...

i want to first bruise my knees before
i lick them clean...
i want the strict juices of: not tomatoes?
red is red: ergo blood is blood...
vulture ****...
there's an open window:
there's an evaporating night too...

best refrain: 6 by 6s refrain on 9s...
since? there's plenty of 0s / oopses...
by this "flesh and blood"...
i heave this sand and timer
like: i was sadly woken up with
an inheritance of salt...
boiling blue bloods and boiling gravy...
a smile that reads: clenched teeth...
a smile so awkward that
it make^ a parrot think twice about
imitating human speech.

^a notable typo, i think i might require an editor
(insert a snigger); two alternatives:
1. it might make a parrot think twice,
2. a smile so awkward that it makes a parrot think twince...
all depending on the tense.

the boy who was treated differently from the families



you see young mr thomas jordan really hated his family, thinking they were different to him

or something, and thomas did a few things wrong like grabbing mouths of all his best mates

because he had mulit personality disorder or something, you see thomas was afraid of getting kidnapped

but, what was really going on, the bad guys decided to treat him like one of them, but thomas didn’t want

that because he was too good for them but because thomas was uneducated, he was the chosen one

to get bashed by these heavies, you see the heavies said, we  are big fierce hooligans and we are really

rough, and thomas said back to them, i will never be like you guys, and i am not like you guys, i believe

in family values, of course new age family values, not the old values, and thomas hated being treated like an old fogie

and the heavies said, we are big rough hooligans and thomas is one of us, he ain’t shy as long as he

understood, he is one of us, you see thomas said, no, leave me alone, i hate the hooligan life, you might be a hooligan

but i am not said thomas, and the heavies said SHUT UP you are still like us, and as long as you understand this

you will be fine, let the jordans do what they want, they are family people, but you thomas have a lot to learn about

family values, you see you do what we say forever, ok and thomas said, *******, i don;t want to be like you guys

i ain’t a hooligan like you, i like good old family values, but the heavies said, no dude, you have to do as we say

and thomas said, i will never hand money under a door, or i will never get caught up in robbing banks, because

it is a hard life if you do things wrong, i know i don’t meet the criteria for a family person but i am, i don’t want

to get caught under your trap and the heavies said, you are calling us a trap, we will come and bash you up

and thomas said, i hate the idea of violence in any way, and i have never put a foot wrong in the family’s eye

i prefer to not be approached by you, because committing crimes ain’t my thing, the heavies said SHUT UP

OR I WILL GET MY HEAVIES TO CONSTANTLY BEAT YOU, and then the heavies told thomas we are big hooligans

and so are you, if you don’t cooperate with us, we will have you bashed, it’s not kidnapping, it’s bashing, because

thomas, you are not a family person, you are a hooligan just like us, but thomas was very scared, you see he didn’t want to commit

crimes, he just wanted to stay in his humble home and occasionally go out to fun street events, but the heavies said

hey thomas, i won’t say your last name, because you are nothing like them, you are one of our hooligan brigades

you see thomas was very scared, he hates the idea of being with these heavies, and then thomas went to beach

and met up with Butch the surfie dude who used his back to squash it on thomas, making it hard for him to breathe

and he was trying to say, i am a family person, i don’t want any trouble, but butch kept on pushing his big sunburnt back

right on thomas and he was laughing because this was going to be thomas’s last day alive, you are one of us, butch said

to thomas, and you will never be like the jordans, because they are nice to us, and you are not, you see thomas you look like

you hate us or that we are the **** of the earth, and we will treat you like one of us forever and thomas yelled out HELP HELP KIDNAP

KIDNAP, but Butch and the heavies said SHUT UP *******, you are still one of us forever, thomas became very scared

because he wants to popular amongst the families, because he is a fun loving guy, and everyone will say he is gentle and butch said

you are about as gentle as a big crocodile who is about to snap and thomas got his key and scratched butch’s back, and this made

butch very angry and butch grabbed thomas and threw him out to the vicious sharks and thomas was killed, and butch said

he is a wild hooligan, who just killed the last remaining troublemaker, but the jordans decided to turn the crowd off them and

said, he will lock them all in his shed, you see thomas was a real fun loving family person and we will make you pay for that

thomas went to his next life as a nice quiet buddhist boy, who was struggling to get these crazy person voices out of his head

it’ll take a while i guess.

the end

Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu

Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere

Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king

Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere

Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere

Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere

Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere

Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty

Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad

Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans

Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals

Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak

Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd

Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show

Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched

Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale

Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted

Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged

Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving

They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest

They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans

Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money

Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay

Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?

Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution

Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers

Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals

Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists

Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists

Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution

Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake

Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere

Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs

Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf

Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules

Timbeck Tyu,  Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu

Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?

If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu

First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu

Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care

hi dudes


i wanted to be a hooligan, or was it a young dude who wants to party

you see i would go out at night, and be a real smart, you see my mates

would say, i was like their mob, but i hated my father saying, he hated to

be like my mob, so i called him a great big old fogie ,because that is what

he seemed to be, you see i don’t think dad can understand why his own flesh

and blood could tease him like this, i never really wanted to be an adult to him

no, please don’t make me, you see at present people are saying i am still a young dude

i am still an old fogie, because they wanna get me back, i hated being treated like

a yeah mate yeah kid, ya see, i would prefer to be treated right, you see i know my dad

is saying i am a fool, but my mates liked the way i used to tease my dad, so they joined right in

but i wanted to tell them that i wanted to tease dad all by myself, and when someone called dad

a great big old fogie in the club, i looked at him and said quietly to myself, way to go buddy

you see people are trying to get me to do what i used to do, like if i go into an expensive hotel

they will say, shut up, your still a young dude, buddy, and i said, yeah the young dude that enjoys

5 star hotels, yeah, and dad would try and get rid of my man and take him for a wander, and

some people are taking my cool kid for a bit of a wander, you see, i feel like i am being kidnapped

by the men saying as they tease someone, and then they say i might tease him in a minute

but he is still a hooligan or a friend to the poor, you see i also hear my friends try and be a street kid

so i can get teased by the families, and i don’t want to get teased by the families, and every time i be a

cool young dude, i see my old mates treating me like a shy person, as i am watching the very brave

**** fanning, about to do a press conference, **** he is brave, you see my mates are trying to reach in

to me and play with my itchy skin, you see maybe i was trying to be a street kid back then, so i don’t get teased

and maybe i was trying to be a poor person so i don’t get teased, but i don’t want to go back to the psych ward

you see i wanted to be a hooligan in 1989, and my mate called me dude, and i got voices in my head saying

hang on yeah little cool dude, and my mate said, yeah enjoy yourself man, and i tried to be like his brothers

he went yeah man enjoy yourself, and i ran off, you see i hear voices of people treating me like a little young dude

because when i was young i used to stay up till 11.30 pm on weekends and i used to watch the young ones and

the fast lane, and i watched neighbours and beavis and butted and e street and i remember my mates saying

i think brian doesn’t want to do this, but i want to be a cool kid to the TV, and i would say, you talk to me, i watch the TV

and my mates turning out to be the adults who want to go out and experience life, my version of loving life is watching TV

and teasing my dad, saying he is a great big old fogie and i feel like people are treating me like a roughneck young dude

trying to take my little cool kid to the family credits away, but i don’t want to be a little cool kid to the family, i prefer to be a big young

dude who enjoys calling dad a great big old fogie because dad always said, i don’t know who he is, i said **** malone is going well

dad said, who is **** malone, i said i watched good times last night, and i saw jj and dad said, who is jj, what a ****, i thought

everyone knows about jj, he said, oh dyna—— mite, maybe i was treating dad like me, ya know treating him like a **** of a man

but that was because i thought jj was popular and so was **** malone, i got in a lot of arguments with dad about his ******* comments

ya see now i fall asleep on the couch as i go up to space to try and reform my young dude, because i still want to stay up, i hate going

to bed early, i am not doing what i did in wood berry for anyone, you see i will drink my soft drink and say a bottle of soft drink knocks you out

and i wasn’t a woosey, i was a basketball star, i was a cool kid to the basketball people, yeah i made mistakes i grabbed kids on the mouths

as occasionally i was trying to trap myself, but i was a sports kid, ya know very good at sports, and i want dad to treat me like a man, because

dad can’t protect me from up there, so i want to be treated like a man who enjoys the finer things in life, like eating pizza and drinking coke

and anything that makes me into a real party dude, i don’t want to be a shy person, mind you, i like the idea, of teasing dad from down here

looking at dads next life’s latest pictures on the computer and dad is now in jimmy barnes’s family as betty campbell, but dad is at peace in that family

but he died with everyone thinking he doesn’t want to be cool, and betty campbell is going to be cooler than her last life, baz boy allan

you see i remember when my brother treated me like a little spaz boy, like saying my brain was chopped off and i am totally spastic, yeah like a

little spaz boy, like mum called dad baz boy, my brother called me little spaz boy and i felt very weird because i wanted to be like the TV people

like ***** hogan and ricky stratton or even bart simpson, forcing my brother to be lisa simpson, you see i take my medication to make me feel

better because back then i felt like a koomarri man, and i heard voices of people saying, your still a young dude brian, and i said i am a young dude

ya know, i stay up till late listening to music talking to my brother about his favourite music and favourite TV shows, it was really cool

and when i was young i said i wasn’t a cool kid, i am a big man’s kid or a big young dude who listens to cool poison and twisted sister, **** i love that video

and i got on very well with my family, including the great big old fogie in dad

My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.

My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.

A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.

A devilish ******* of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.

Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.

A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.

Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.

Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.

Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.

A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.

A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)

A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.

A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.

A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.

An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.

A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.

A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.

Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.

A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.

Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.

England played today, what a ****-up grandiose style, glass bottle like hail flew down on Marseilles, water-canons, all kinds of crowd dispersers, true grit on the former great, now belittled, nation-state in d' hood reduced to a pitch with 20 idiots running around kicking about Charles' 1st head, and too fidgety skeletons tagged to A.S.B.O.S. tags playing puppets in a rectangle... i stopped watching the match for a cigarette break, the free-kick went in, Saturay, Tesco closing at 10pm, i took to wearing an Australian Open t-shirt, i've never seen so many funerals drinking a beer on my way home - prior it it was all gorilla chanting and Tarzan... i only learned of Tsar Putin dipping his ***** in the **** of Crimea a few minutes later.

your typical Saturday night, next door  neighbour's
trying out an alt. Y.M.C.A. with disco funk,
i guess it spreads easily this day, feel the grooves
or lined Rodin - ape-**** up my *** -
music so loud coming from my neighbour's canopy
i should be asking for canapés - after all Euro 2016
kicked off, scarf-hooligans of Moscow made
Marseilles home-turf , two Brits at the draw
in hospital, faces kicked-in, real bulldogs,
asthmatics at the end of it - conversation turned into a tour
of the Cairngorms or the western outlets...
a lot of Scottish impromptu with **** **** freckles!
gee ginger! aye fucky ***** ****!
Anglo users love interchanging the vowels for emphasis
to differentiate geographic regions -
but this one book review got me -
entitled ***** state by a feminist -
the ugly child abusing father is a punter -
listen, if it were't for prostitutes i'd be a priest
7 years in, acne on my Richie, one ****** in,
kiss on the mouth several times, hell, the guilt trip,
poor boy poor girl, skin cream lubrication,
talk of doctor's appointments, ******* a *****,
i'd get the Scandinavia model if the girls weren't fickle,
the hand is hardly a plastic surgeon of the female
genitalia ***** - bony M... you must be talking
about ******* - ***** M...
Jesus no more the son of god than the patron saint
of prostitutes... the poor guy feels the aches of touch
while the rich boys sushi off a stripper in Billions...
i don't have strong dialectical encouraging to dispute
or discuss - i too am too blame, ask my dermatologist...
so my neighbours threw a party,
on the set-list?
Cheryl Lynn - Got to Be Real; Oliver Cheatham,
Get Down Saturday Night; Edwin Starr - Contact;
and then the one off from One Direction - History -
the DJ suddenly experiences the jitters neurotically
changing songs before they finish - midwestern horror,
Ohio or Iowa hammer masscare, excerpt from
Pink Floyd's anti-fascist anti-educationalist march,
dangly on the Cenotaph -
persona qui umbra-grata (person agreeably welcome
as a shadow) - yep, me and the ex_machina routine...
i know the feminist argument smocking pipe handy
clean for more pages, but ever hear a ******* ******
or laugh with you? if i didn't use up the profession
i'd be the buying type abusive father forever,
who the **** needs **** trips when the moment can please
twos? i'd be up against a Cosmopolitan Magazine Quizzes...
the "perfect boyfriend" types, later coverage in
psychological advice columns... but wait...
all that ******* advice about something being indestructible
in us, about us, beginning with this keen appeal to
atheism already defaults a logic behind the essential
characteristic of the existence pertaining to a psyche -
by destroying god we also resolved to more easily disqualify
the in-destructibility of the soul,
constrained, a study of noumenons, with logic application,
as if with the omni- prefix to the non-essentials of god -
logic destroyed the compatible qualification of soul
ownership, reduced, it gave us the advent of prayer
and the necessity of a god, rather than our selves,
via souls - something without deductive parameters to
cursor and pre- of the experience quickened to
argument with dis- and later -qualificatio;
the кaцaпс fought with Mongols... you think there's
a fair bet for your hooliganism in Marseilles?
well... it all boils down to two identifiers of nationalism:
parade with the royal family near St. James' park
or gut a pig in the south of France...
Wales will not bow this time, given that they're
not getting paid for their national pride dribble,
they'll ******* up... make more adverts with your superstars...
strange that, well, America has idiosyncratic sports,
i never understood the cheese-ball of oval either to the throw -
yes, baseballs makes more sense than cricket,
but you have to understand rugby before you
start crowdsurfing your *** in nappies -
the high expression of nationalism is so Joker-faced
with the Windsor ******, nationalism and a king never match
up to how Mao or ****** would have it...
and the alternative is football hooliganism...
i walked for my whiskey and beer just after the 75th minute,
along the way i met so many funerals, donning my
Australian Open T-Shirt... well, you, know,
a different type of spectator sport - i heard the rabbis
of the oval where deemed cricket tourists when kicking
a penalty through the H architecture -
cricketers are tourists, oval jerker-offs are Wallabies...
Australia in the Eurovision song-contest... oh yeah,
i'm mad... mad about Abba.. Matt in Memphis,
an Eve Cassidy moment, Sia's chandelier cover-up,
the truest form of plagiarism - the cover is better
without all the computing morphings...
oh sure, i could play the dating game...
9 years in and i had two authentic ***** in my day...
one was a black single mum who took me back
to her flat in Stratford, dragged her baby girl from the bed
to the floor, and her baby son, didn't want me to
penetrate her, tucked my **** in between her thighs,
i stopped, was woken by her son in the middle of the night,
took him and laid him on my chest and we fell asleep...
so yeah, prostitution is ALL BAD... coming from a theorist
who hasn't experienced the drudgery of lives "unexpected"
via eventualities akin to Chernobyl... given that the most
paranoid nation scared and scaring others concerning
a nuclear holocaust is the only one to set two off... two!
Pearl Harbour was an army attack on an army base...
what the Americans did was just a very quick Holocaust.

you see i fear the hooligans of this town are doing to me like i did to dad

you see i hated what i did as a child, because everyone was nice except

the bullies who bullied me to get posers out of my television guide

even if it ruined my guide, I don’t want people bullying me in that way

you see young dudes watch TV and adults out for walks

well young dudes go fro walks occasionally and i am in young dude heaven

you see people are trying to pump my body up to make me fight them

I don’t believe in violence and i don’t believe in mucking with cowards who want to fight

you see dudes, i am not a hooligan, i am a family person

you see i hate being told to stop looking at someones baby

especially when i ain’t really looking, and i hate being forced to fight the hooligans

who pick you on the the street and start bullying you for no apparent reason

you see dudes i am a reformed man now, I hated what the men used to do to me

I would hate to be treaed  like my mate because he is such a loser and he is so negative

and he probably brought it all on himself but i don’t want to be treated like him

especially when i am a nice person and i don’t want people to bully me

i had too much of that bullying in school and at the LETS course

and i remember being bullied at fyshwich TAFE, i just want people to leave me alone

whether i can fight or not, I don’t want to fight, so stop trying to fight me

you see last night i heard dad coming into my dream trying to explain exactly what he was doing

but i said, dad work on Betty, because i was just trying to be a normal kid

who was suffering through bullying all my childhood years

well, i might not have showed it, but i hated giving up my posters and i hated being with Lyle

you see he had anger management issues and i hated giving up all my money to Paula

mind you i like helping the poor, but i don’t want to be forced to, only when i have enough money

I hate when the poor drunken louts of this town treating me like a man to bully

if i don’t pay attention, and i hated being tread like a hooligan who has to be an on looker

i prefer if people would stop trying to pulley me, i don’t believe in bullying or kidnapping

I feel people are trying to keep me with the losers and if i don’t go near the losers

like the poster boy and Paula the lady asking for money

I hate being asked for money, I wish i had money, so i can be famous

I hate when people laugh at me, i have been laughed at all my life

I don’t want people to treat me like a little shy boy, or a target to tees

you see they are little wooseys for life, you see i love life

I love life more that any of these mates, ever did, and if i wanted to **** myself i would have done it now, I am not shy

i just don’t want the people at the mall to keep fighting so close to me, fighting is for the hooligans and i am not a hooligan

I was a nice boy at school and i didn’t believe in violence or bullying in anyway

If i could have that time all back, I would say NO, because i hate when people treat me like a ****** push over

i am no push over, and i wish people would leave me alone and stop treating me like a man to a fight

fighting is for the pits,and i don’t believe in violence in anyway

i prefer to be in young dude heaven which is with people who would treat me like a normal person

Brackets

Your mum picked you up in daddy’s BMW,
we had to wait an hour while they scrubbed the brains of another son off the roof of the 125

(Why they built a multi storey car park on top of the bus station is a mystery to me.)

You carefully colour coordinated your files and scrutinized your revision schedules,
we watched nicked CCTV footage of two blokes smoking crack and burning down the bowling pavilion next door

(the old boys never did raise enough to repair it.)

You snubbed each other because of different tastes in jumpers,
we watched acid casualties talk politics with football hooligans

(a hastily rolled joint bridged the obvious gap.)

You lounged in the common room in your study periods,
our lesson got cancelled because John had been smashed in the face with a fire extinguisher

(and our tutor used to be a lifeguard.)

You worried about fashion and discussed the injustice of last night’s X Factor result,
we watched Neil’s head crash into his keyboard after he’d scoffed all his methadone in one go

(again.)

Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.

Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.

Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.

Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.

Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.

Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.

What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.

Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.

Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.

Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.

Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm

Lost in the majority
hiding within the masses
seeking acceptance
afraid to be yourself

The bullies' 'democracy' claims another victim
the chains are for you
not your so-called prisoner
Not the one who dared call it as it is
Not the one unafraid to stick his head above the fence

What is a person if not their truths
Be it right or wrong, better die than a ******* sheep
The Dodo was wiped out because they were flightless
Couldn't escape the clutches of human
Was it their fault
Or the God who made them without wings
and also created man in charge of earth

Man is the highest being
who professes to know more than God
Do what they want and take what they like
We can, so we do
We'll just make it up as we go along
Its unlawful to **** but our Police can **** the Darkies
You do jail time for stealing a loaf
At the top they are stealing millions slashed in Offshore Accounts

Then some flatulences of deranged ******* ranges along
declaring we are Red Devils against the Privileged
See that man go make his life a misery
Don't befriend him, don't even talk to him
Come join our club cause we are the majority

The flatulence of ******* have just stolen your Free-Will
Pitting you against another who has done you no wrong
But it's alright because everyone is in with it
No it's not OK because they have just made you a slave
Played on your fears and made you feel inferior
Judged on your behalf without your consent
And manipulate you without your approval
Because they have fooled you
Made you think you're only strong in a pack
While tainting your mind with Hate
And stealing your free Will

Welcome to Cowardsville, Have a nice stay
Cause you're staying your lifetime
Real Democracy is seeking Common good for all by all
Not common destruction of another blameless Human
as sport to hang asinine trite banners on, to **** your mind in
That is not Power, its a scam by Cheats, thugs and hooligans
who also want a slice of the Top table pies and cherries,
without learning the rules of the game
What these shites call Power is hate and Bullying
And bullying is Wrong and cowardly
It could be YOU someday

You may not have much but at least own yourself
And own your mind
Make your own decision
Don't do because someone stole your free Will
Least of all a Flatulences of Red *******
Who banish Freedom while yelling Freedom For All
Who lies we are fighting for the common people
While their union Leaders earn same as the ******* PM
and live Rent free in mansions with fortunes in Banks

Is Putin equal to all the others he rules over
Is Trump giving up his Billions to make America great
Has Corbyn given a spare room to a Palestinian refugee
or donated half of his wages to the poor
Do you honestly believe Politicians tell you the TRUTH
Whether Red, Blue, Orange, Gold or ******* Rainbow

Then some Shyster Flatulences of Red Nincompoops steals
your Free will and sends you like dogs to go harass
and torment one single Man and calls it Revolution...hahaha

Go have a coffee and smell the Roses....people!

the day i tried to be a hooligan



you see i was being a hooligan back in the 90s oh yeah mate yeah

i was running around belconnen like a raging hooligan

you see i was hearing voices in my head

saying i am a woosey, but i know i am not, i am cool

you see dad was trying to tell me that i was with the wrong crowd

and i hear these voices from my best mate, leave brian alone mr allan

i don’t want to muck with you, i was picking on dad, but he had to call the police

and he put me on medication to ****** calm mevdown

you see i was a wild drinker and my beard was like a hobos

and dad went to his grave not knowing i was trying to be like pat

i don’t want to be like everyone else i prefer to be myself

and dad threatened to throw me out of the house but decided against it in the end

i wasn’t really that bad, i was nice to mum and dad one minute and horrible and wild the next

i ran off to an open pub in  the night to try and grab a good time

like las vegas and blind beggars as well as the hungry horse

i got totally hammered man and i bought one beer home

and sat on my bathroom floor trying to cool person

you see mum worried when she smelt beer on me

and i snapped at her without thinking

i bought 5 cases of the greatest beer and i decorated my flat into a little beer garden

where i can sit and rest

i don’t know why i get cranky oh no, maybe dad thought i was crazy

i say i was crazy, but not anymore

i did a tapestry on my thoughts as i drink to escape the voices

i told mum and dad things like do you like eric boyson and they said quieten down

i partied at the hungry horse drinking 23 beers

and getting really drunk oh yeah that was the life for me

i went to town centre tavern and page tavern and drank $50 worth of beer

i was trying to be like patrick a bit when i bought myself a packet of crisps

i heard my brother come flying out of his house saying what’s that brian

i am mucking around again, you are like mum and dad now brian

i seemed to take my dreaded voices out on poor mum and dad

i threw a rubber spider on mum, she jumped and dad laughed

i made jokes with dad about the pool is losing it’s water

dad said, he has to be on the ball with me

i jumped up and played basketball with the kids

like brendan and bo and josh

and one kid told me to kidnap him, and i said i am trying to drink beer to reform my kidnapper

i rang patrick up at the pub to see if he wants to party

he said no, mainly because he probably didn’t want to go

i was getting drunk with a mate named steve and he was a yeller a mighty yeller

a real crazy person, oh yeah, but some time he was nice, trying to talk me into going to ulladulla with him, NO THANKS

drinking with him was fun back then, but i teased him and that is why he yelled

i was trying to be like patrick when i went to the choirboys concert

and i nearly got mugged but i got away, but i lost everything that night, I WAS CRAZY

i still found it hard talking to mum and dad because i was a yeller

and every time i drank after work, mum said have you been drinking

yeah i drank with some of my mates from north south contractors

stephen and scott, oh yeah, i went back to scott’s to listen to heavy metal, man that was rad,

and the hotdog we ate was great, dude

i joined the bowling league back in 2000, and i was a real party dude oh yeah

i partied with kathryn on the dance floor despite me being tired from my medication

and i bowled in campbelltown and gosford and hornsby and illawarra and went to cheer on the swans oh yeah

you see mate, i like doing things, ya know i like being cool

and with the right medication, i stopped fighting my parents woo oh

i went to the fucken psych ward in 2004 for killing the blasted cat

and i yelled HELP HELP HELP HELP

and finally in 2007 after 38 years, i moved out into a flat on my own and i am enjoying this

and in the end of the year, i got myself a job at LEAD, but i was having mental problems

and in 2009 i was put on seroquel and i visited adelaide for the first time

and i went back to adelaide in 2012, in 2005 and 2012 the mighty swans won the cup

and i went to the carols, you see i was dumb enough to replace the pub with the carols

i got my first every day job in 2013 but it only lasted 4 months, as i chucked all my belongings over the balcony

and sent to the psych ward and placed on a medication order of good behaviour

which means i will go to the psych ward if i don’t take my medication

i am thinking this is great, all i need to take his my medication, and i stay out of the psych ward, cool

and in 2014 dad died and i started a cartooning course as well as winning a duck at my inaugural poetry slam

which is on the third wednesday of each month

i have been going there every month except december, and i read my very own poems

now, i am putting the backings on my tapestries and yeah i am cool

and tonight i can’t sleep having horrible thoughts from my 2 times in the psych ward

Lost in Lisbon,
just me and my addictions,
and when I say addictions,
I mostly mean my addiction to women,

caught in the same cliche,
but I can’t seem to get away,
like a dream that keeps repeating,
same place same case just a different day,

thinking that somehow *** can replace,
the actual act of acceptance,
thinking that regret can somehow set,
the pace for some sort of repentance,

but nothing changes,
except the weather and sometimes the faces,
found I’m still lost,
I’m a great shot but what’s the worth of a great shot that’s aimless?

No target,
no goals,
just a free market,
that’s completely uncontrolled.

There are no rules,
there’s no reality on which to base this face it,
we are all lost that is for sure,
only difference is most of us don’t want to admit it.

Addicted,
to the chaos it’s such a turn on,
even when I feel sick,
and my heart’s gone cold I’m still burnin’,

she’s turning,
her back on me,
says she doesn’t want to have ***,
and I understand her exactly,

sometimes I wish I wasn’t a man,
sometimes I wish we were all brilliant light,
want to leave my dull bland body so bad,
that if someone came to take my life I wouldn’t even fight.

I don’t fight her,
she says no so I sit up and ask her to leave,
it’s almost 4 o’clock in the afternoon already,
and she’s got a flight to catch that’s leaving for Italy,

and it is then that I see that she’s leaving me,
both figurative and literally,
which I guess I accept because one fact,
we all leave everyone and everything eventually,

even ourselves,
the cards we were dealt,
were bizarre as a guitar played like like a bagpipe by a Celt,
and even though we feel no more well hell at least there was a time we felt,

oh well,
I understand now that you’re timeless and your love is priceless,
fairwell,
we win some and we lose some I guess that’s what this Game of Life is,

blameless and shameless in Lisbon having a midlife crisis.

Living in cities of sin singing songs of wrong still trying to be righteous,
lost as a lark trying to parrot a song to carry us along and guide us,
flying through this civic blueprint climbing high we deny lies and define all aliveness,
and even though your iris is sublime and so is mine we can’t seem to see through our own blindness,
  
like trying to adjust to the distrust that we feel when we’re told that someone loves us,
and the ironic thing is that in your strangeness I see a similar likeness.

We lost us.

We lost us and our fondness for any sort of conscious conscience,
so now we’re in love with fervid thugs and hooligans that are heartless,
and when we’re asked why we’re in love with this life we say because we are artist,
which partially explains why I’m in Portugal in pain with a beauty that’s stunningly monstrous.

Lost in this,
constant concoction of consciousness,
lost in this,
city by the ocean caught in the North Atlantic drifts,

lost in Lisbon,
just me and my addictions,
and when I say addictions,
I mostly mean my addiction to women…

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

20/08/16

YOU SEE AFTER BEING FEELED AT THE CATHOLIC CHURCH, BRIAN NOBLE WAS GETTING THESE

STUPID DELLUSIONS, THAT HE WAS TREATED LIKE A SHY PERSON, WHO MUCKS AROUND IN YEAH

MAN TO A KILLING, YOU SEE BRIAN NOBLE, WHILE HIS FAMILY ARE GETTING ON WITH THEIR LIVES

BRIAN NOBLE IS FORCED BY THE POWERS OF EVIL TO BE TREATED LIKE A SHY PERSON, AS OPPOSED

TO A FAMILY PERSON, CAUSE HOW MANY TIMES BRIAN NOBLE SAID HE WAS A LITTLE FAMILY KID, THEY

KEPT OF TELLING HIM, THAT HE WAS A HOOLIGAN, AND THEY ARE TRYING TO TAKE OR WASH THE LITTLE FAMILY KID

OUT OF HIM, YOU SEE, BRIAN NOBLE WASN’T PERFECT AND YES, HE MIGHT HAVE BULLIED A FEW PEOPLE

BUT THAT DOESN’T MEAN HE SHOULD SUFFER FOR THAT, SO TO GET RID OF THIS SHYPERSON FEEL, THAT HE

WAS GOING TO GET KILLED, HE WENT TO PUBS PARTYING, BUT THAT DIDN’T SEEM TO WORKM BECAUSE

IN THE PUBSN HE ******* A LOT OF PEOPLE, BUT IN HINDSIGHT, HE SAID HE WAS VERY SORRY

AND DESPITE HIS EFFORTS OF TRYING TO PUSH THE SHYPERSON OUT OF HIM, IT NEVER WORKED,

CAUSE BRIAN’S MATES WERE HAVING A FUN TIME TEASING BRIAN, BY PUSHING HOOLIGANS IN HIM

AND BRIAN YELLED OUT, LEAVE ME ALONE, BUDDHA OR GOD I AM NOT A SHY PERSON, BECAUSE, I WAS

A TAD SHY, AND I MIGHT LOOK SHY, BUT I ALWAYS HAVE SOMETHING TO GET ME BY, YOU SEE, I WOULD

THINK IT’LL BE FUN FOR ME, TO SHARE MY WORKS AND MAKE MONEY HELPING PEOPLE WRITE THEIR STUFF

OUT OF THEM, YOU SEE BRIAN NOBLE HATES HEARING VOICES OF HIS PAST, ESPECIALLY WHEN

THE COOL PEOPLE IN HIS LIFE, ARE THE MENTALLY ILL PEOPLE, WHO WATCHED SHOWS WITH HIM

WITHOUT WORRYING THAT HANGING WITH BRIAN WILL SPOIL THEIR REPUTATION, BRIAN NEVER CARED

FOR HIS REPUTATION, MAINLY BECAUSE, A REPUTATION, IS MORE IMPORTANT AT SCHOOL, ONCE YOU

YOU HIT ADULT LIFE, A REPUTATION, SHOULDN’T MEAN MUCH, YOU SHOULD GAIN SKILLS OF EXPRESSION,

SAYING, WHO GIVES A RATS *** ABOUT WHAT PEOPLE THINK OF ME, BRIAN THOUGHT, AND WENT HOME, BUT

HIS MATES, WERE IN BRIAN’S MINDS, SAYING YOU ARE A SHY HOOLIGAN, YOUR STILL LIKE YOUR OWN FAMILY

OR A SHY US, AND BRIAN TOLD THESE CRAZY VOICES THAT HE LIKES DOING CREATIVE THINGS LIKE ART

AND WRITING, AND, THEN ONE VOICE GAVE HIM A FEELING OF TOUCHING HIS *****, AND THEN FEEL HIS BEAUTIFUL

THIGH, BRIAN SAID LEAVE ME ALONE, LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE, I DON’T WANT YOU TO **** ME, SUNSHINE

AND THEN THE VOICE SAID, WE ARE GETTING YOU BACK FOR WHAT YOU DID BACK WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG, AND

BRIAN NOBLE YELLED OUT, FUCKEN LEAVE ME ALONE YA *******, FUCKEN LEAVE ME AKONE, AND STOP

USING YOUR IMAGINERY POWERS TO FEEL MY **** AND THIGHS, ****, YOU SEE, THEN THE VOICE SAID

I WILL GET THIS KNIFE AND PUT IT RIGHT IN YOUR NECK, BRIAN SAID, I DON’T WANT TO BE A COOL KID LIKE THIS

IF I HAVE TO HEAR THESE ROTTEN VOICES, I AM QUIET HAPPY TO BE A FAMILY PERSON WHO LOVES COMPUTERS

AS OPPOSED TO BEING TORTURED BY YOU FUCKEN HOOLIGANS, I DON’T **** PEOPLE OFF, BUT EVEN IF YOU THINK

IT’S TEASING ME, IT’S MAKING BRIAN’S MATES VERY HORRIBLE PEOPLE, TRYING TO KEEP BRIAN LIKE THE SHY KIDS

WHEN BRIAN NOBLE, DESPITE IT BEING NORMAL, FOUND THE COMPUTER PEOPLE, MUCH BETTER PEOPLE, THAN THE

PEOPLE IN HIS HEAD, BRIAN DOESN’T CARE FOR HIS REPUTATION, AS HE HEARS HIS MATES IN HIS HEAD TRYING TO BE

LIKE HIM BACK WJEN HE WAS YOUNGER, SAYING STILL NOT A YOUNG DUDE MATE, AND BRIAN GOT SICK OF THESE VOICES

AND TRIED TO TALK HIS WAY OUT OF THESE VOICES, AND SOME MEAN **** SAID SHUT UP, YOUR STILL LIKE US, AND HIS BEST MATE

AT SCHOOL SAID TO BRIAN, SHUT UP, CAUSE YOUR STILL NOT A YEAH MATE YEAH KID, YOUR STILL A COOL KID, AND BRIAN

GOT REALLY ANGRY AS HIS VOICES SAID TO BRIAN, QUICKLY BRIAN BE LIKE US, SO NOBODY CAN HASSLE YA, AND BRIAN

SAID, HE IS NO HOOLIGAN, HE IS A FAMILY PERSON. HE DOESN’T MEAN NO HARM ON THE STREET, AND BRIAN MEANS NO

HARM ON THE COMPUTER EITHER, YOU SEE THESE VOICES ARE GETTING INTO BRIAN’S BODY AND SAY, YOU ARE STILL SHY

YOUR STILL GETTING TEASED, AND THE PEOPLE WHO NEVER TEASED BRIAN NOBLE AS A KID, GOT REALLY WORRIED AND STARTED

BY TRYING TO COPY BRIAN NOBLE, AND SAYING BE LIKE US, BRIAN, ME AND HIM, CAUSE, WE ARE STILL KIDS, BUDDY. AND BRIAN

NOBLE SAID, PLEASE DON’T **** ME, PLEASE DON’T HAVE ME KILLED, FOR YOU SEE, IF I BE A SHYPERSON LIKE DAD TREATED ME

LIKE, I COUKD GET KILLED, I AM SORRY FOR MY VIOLENT OUTBURSTS, I AM SORRY FOR GRABBING AND TYING UP THAT BOY, I REALLY

DON’T APPRECIATE MATE, BEING TREATED LIKE A SHYPERSON MATE, CAUSE SOME OF THESE MEN USED TO GIVE ME THE FEELING

I WAS GOING TO BE KILLED ON THE STREET, MIND YOU I HAVE TO WATCH WHAT I SAY, BUT I AM DOING THAT, BUT THE MEN SAID, BRIAN NOBLE

SAID, EVERYONE, I DON’T WANT TO BE TREATED LIKE A SHY PERSON, OR I AIN’T INTO BEING TREATED LIKE I AM TOO WOOSEY TO WRITE,

BRIAN NOBLE RAN TO THE MALL AND YELLED OUT LEAVE ME ALONE, I WANT THESE PEOPLE KILLED BY AN AMERICAN ******, BRIAN NEVER

MEANT HE WANTED TO DO THIS, HE JUST WANTS THE VOICES OR ANY FEELING OUT OF HIS BODY, BECAUSE, WHAT BRIAN SAID HE LIKES BEING CREATIVE,

IT’S HARD TO UNDERSTAND, WHY BRIAN NOBLE WAS TREATED LIKE A SHYPERSON LIKE THIS, AND WHY THE CROWD TREATED LIKE A HOOLIGAN

YA SEE, BRIAN PREFERRED TO BE A FAMILY PERSON, CAUSE HE DOESN’T **** PEOPLE OFF ONE LITTLE BIT.

BRIAN NOBLE ONLY YELLS TO RID THE VOICES FROM HIS HEAD, AND HATES HIS MATES WERE BEING BRIAN’S DADDY, BY TICKLING HIS STOMACH AND

TRYING TO KEEP HIM WITH THE COOL BOYS, AND BRIAN NOBLE SAID, FUCKEN LEAVE ME ALONE YA RITCHARD KIDS, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A SHYPERSON

I JUST DRINK AT THE MALLWHAT’S WRONG WITH THAT, I HATE BEING TREATED LIKE A YOUNG DUDE, I AM A MIDDLEAGER, BUT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS

CAUSE YOUR STUPID, BRIAN YELLED OUT, AT THE TOP OF HIS VOICE, CAUSE BRIAN NOBLE IS A COMPUTER GENIOUS, PRETTY MUCH LIKE BRIAN ALLAN

FROM CANBERRA, HE IS BETTER THAN ANY ONE OF THESE VOICE, WE ARE ALL OVER THE INTERNET, ART WRITING AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINING

PLEASE STOP FEELING ME YA FUCKEN ****, CAUSE I AM A MAN YA FLAMING SEE

briano alliano performing on jupiter




i wish people would treat me normal

like a cool family person should be treated

i wish they would stop trying to bug me, no mate no, i hate it

i don’t like people poking me, it drives me up the wall

you see i am a family person, i don’t like people poking me at all

i know people love to poke me, because they think it is kinda fun

but i can say oh pretty one, it’s not fun for me

i don’t want people to get me back for what i do to them

cause, ya see, that is how hooligans get treated

and i am not a hooligan

ya see god, is a made up being, what is wrong with believing in buddha

i never liked people poking me, just leave me alone

you see their constant poking made me feel like a hooligan oh yeah

how they tried to get me off the seat, saying your not like your father, no

but i have the right, to do what i want, i am a family person, anyway

i hate being called a woos, i wish people would understand that

i like computers as well

computers are totally radical dude, in every sort of way

i don’t want people to tease me, cause they were called pat me grind and i was called brains

you can’t change the past ya see, it’s not my fault that you were pat me grind

i know, people are stupid when they do that stupid poking about

poking is what you give a hooligan when they are too shy to muck with the family

but i am a family person who has paranormal visions

i can’t help that i can muck around with the dead

i can’t help that i can workout previous life patterns

i think people are crazy, if they try and reform beliefs

because these are my beliefs, these are my beliefs

reincarnation can make death up-lifting

point to the sky to see what you can find

whether you can see jupiter or saturn

and at the night you will see the moon, yeah that sounds mighty fine to me

i don’t want to be treated like a little shy boy, i ain’t shy at all

though i don’t want to fight, but i want to PARTY

yeah that sounds so very cool

picture in your mind what you see

the rightful serving of the lord

i hate these devil worshipping reading minds freaks who think they can really dampen my spirits, on noseree

you see i love life too much to let that worry me

i don’t want to be a shy koomarri who just cleans his house, BORING, mind you i do clean my house sonny Jim

i feel hooligans trying to poke all over my body, to take the family person out of me

please leave me alone, for i am now a real family person can’t ya see

here is my next song

you see hooligans trying to poke the family person out of me

because my stories of previous lives is boring them, poor babies

they are little kids, and they are as ******* as ****

i am a cool koomaerri oh yeseree

you see these poems are computer power yeah

though i understand what can happen with social media, i still am rather famous oh yeseree

on the top of the world looking down on creation and on every planet i can find

any dream will do, my mate and open a can of methane my mate, i will see you at the top of the world

and there is nothing wrong with an adult partying, just don’t poke me

you see i am hearing myself with a mate named james

you see i used to tease james while he was trying to type, and i need people to understand i am reformed

i am top of the world looking down on jupiter and i wish you can stop poking me

because i am not a hooligan, i am a family person, you see james pederson was a total ****

and he sai hoy hoy hoy don’t tease me, he was easy to flaming tease

and i carried it a bit far at the football, when i teased him again, and i knocked him over

and i felt on top of the world looking down on that baby, you see he is ******* as a fucken ****

i know i don’t do that anymore, please don’t get me back for it

because while on medication i feel on top of the world

you see i never really helped anyone as a child, but i tried to make up for that as an adult

because i am a family person anyway, i8 teased all the kids at school, making them feel uncomfortable

now, i am on medication and i feel on top of the world

when i was young i looked as being mental as stupid

and we used to make jokes about teasing people at kenmore

but when i found out i am mental too, the shoe is on the other foot now, isn’t it

i felt on top of the world looking over crazy people, never knowing i will be one of them

all i want is to be treated like a internet ****** and let bygons be bygons

as i am a reformed man anyway

just meet me at the top of the world, dudes

The Wall Walker
and smooth talker
he, being a ticked off ****** with a knife,
is mostly mole faced
but with an incredible grasp on spacial relations
mysterious mister stalking the barfly's and time flys
endangering a species just for ***** and giggles
the great google hooligans pace rapidly
back and
frothy beer
drowned down by the river kawaii

a few songs can capture the modern sense of urbanity, and the
apocalyptic 5 a.m. of London - but i've become estranged from
that sort of neon addiction - there's no syringe involved,
no amateur photographers on the ready, either -
yes, a man of great love, but also of great contempt:
and that goes hand in hand.
the favourite memory of my first year at Edinburgh?
eating haggis neeps and tatties at the ***** ****'s
pub on the royal mile - followed by shots of whiskey -
in my student accommodation,
placing the amp on the windowsill, the window open,
and just jamming out far removed Nirvana solos
with a few spectators: modern day equivalent:
of mad max flamethrower guitar freak -
losing my virginity to Isabella: psychology 3rd year
exchange student - from Grenoble - France,
yep, not the ******* Himalayas - the Alps...
the lacrosse initiation ceremony in lycra shorts:
back then i'd be a stumbling buffoon after a bottle
of whiskey... these days? well, usually a closing
poem at 5 a.m. - minding the cats to come home
after spending it out in the cool on a sultry night -
i wasn't serious about the lacrosse -
jeez: the meat in this place is stuffing me -
get out before they tell you to buy your own gear:
team or group mentality? never got it -
soloist pronto - pronto andante - chirpier that way,
getting the whiff of the bubbly without stand-up:
imagine a sit-down comedian... hard to imagine.
the gym... oh **** me the gym...
you know, i knew a guy in first year that only managed
to cook up plain pasta, with salt... plain pasta
with salt... another guy ate spaghetti with
tomato sauce all year round... in the last week he
added meat to the mix... not trying to brag:
i'm even going to mention what i cooked -
                    i was living with horror seeing these
boys adapt to: mommy not here, mommy out to lunch...
daddy not here, daddy out to crunch out the income...
well... apart from the rich puppies who chose
catering accommodation, turning university
into a school with a pristine canteen - canned teens -
just as much - so if i wrote cantine you'd say:
canned thyme? how the hell does that work:
i abuse language, language doesn't abuse me -
i don't need cushions surround words like
()()()()()****()()()()() - better? much better -
hush the angry words out! use the sterilisers -
maybe that's why i never experienced anything bad
using the internet - honesty and bluntness -
maybe i shouldn't have said that. or that's just lucky.
princess and the pea and the 100 mattresses
and a fickle *** - ah itchy! it's pinching! it's pinching!
100 mattresses and still the ****** pea.
then again, staying up all night, then deciding to
climb Arthur's Seat at dawn, getting there, then
climbing down and going to Tesco at 7 a.m. to buy
cornflakes and full fat milk... that was something;
but you know what i'm really thinking about?
it's no longer a maxim, it's a cliche -
               but i'm thinking about it in mathematical
terms -                                from the verb
                           on one side, to the posit or inertia
on the other - there's no grammatical version of what
really becomes a pentagon with five attachment points
primarily - a cul de sac of facts -
                                                            but­ mingling with
grammatical categorisation nonetheless -
          but what i'm thinking about it how to make it
simpler, to use mathematical notation:
i.e.
               i think is an expression
                                       worthy of about 1 centimetre,
  given that thought is a marathon -
                   but i'll just say: could it be anything but
  so differentiated increment divisibility to
              thus provide a sigma? although the expression
is hardly an ad continuum - at some point you
stop thinking, hence to differentiate i think is assuredly
a way to say: well, not constantly - meaning thought
   is not a continuum - and can be talked about in the
same was as talk of god: that's where i place the prime
of ethical action - it's not god... i don't ascribe ethical
action in that direction: just too easy, whatnot with hell
and heaven and goody two shoes waiting for the
big spark of magic or applause and the heckler: well done!
god, dry humour is the best - sarcasm is dry humour -
satire is wet humour... and other than that?
               slapstick, nothing too witty, i hate witty comedy,
they always need canned laughter:
at least slapstick humour makes the effort for you too
make an effort... and it sometimes hurts, so it's real,
when you start flexing that abdomen and get a six smiley
faces on the torso.                anyway,
              looking at my **** it really dawned on me:
  (by the way, Descartes wasn't really out to prove he existed,
   someone thought he did, he was trying to work out a
proof for something that someone else would pick up
   and elaborate)             i think is but a centimetre
                              compared to the marathon of thought -
(sizes in this scenario is perfectly compatible) -
          meaning that               i am          (italics?
emphasis on these to expressions being unitary) is but
                 another centimetre compared to the marathon
   of being                                    or the Antarctic expedition
                      of non-being: i.e. not necessarily
   assembling: what if i wasn't here... but more like:
              what if i did something differently -
again, flea market questions -                        why bother?
    come to think of it: the former unit is more simpler
to encompass - although i agree that the former translates
into the latter: thinking proves i exist,
                            because ex omni instances
         (out of all), there's an equal compatible expression
of mutual exclusiveness: thinking - the two together are
juxtaposed to be allowed a kind relativism -
      but whereas the latter (i am) unit is not only plagued
by the nearest pentagonal absorption via the senses,
but also a definite article / articulation of so many posits
of expression: multiplex verb -
                  the former (i think) unit isn't:
a. plagued by the pentagonal... blah blah blah...
             but rather by a mandala of faculties:
   imagining things, remembering things, dreaming things,
               maybe i shouldn't have said that?
   who knows -
                             the basic thought was
about:           i think is but a centimetre compared
                               to a marathon of thought - a minor fact -
   i am is but a centimetre compared to a marathon of being -
     and to be honest: very few people would take
courage in understanding this glib in the sigma of all things -
imagine football hooligans equipped with this potential...
i can't: i was watching the Everton v. Sunderland today,
and all i could hear was the chant: YANNICK BOLAISE!
            YANNICK BOLAISE! YANNICK BOLAISE!
yes, this kind of writing is a paper mâché -
or a vegetarian starter - but, you know, if you don't
try something new, you'll definitely win a Pulitzer Prize...
  if you don't like it? chop chop, on you go.
i know Descartes wasn't wrong, and i know that
cogito ergo sum wasn't intended to prove anything -
but it did prove a founding block for existentialism,
that's where all existentialists take a **** - Descartes
is the dump where Sartre wrote his being & nothingness,
and Heidegger his being & time...
                        well, key ingredient in someone writing
a sophisticated aversion to time: space, would probably
write something about sitting next to someone on a tube
and writing about sardines and livestock -
                           humanity as a virus, etc. etc.,
   compared with someone writing and thinking out
a statement of: well, isn't this marvellous - so far apart
and clean, and solitary and chuckles.
    i just wanted to use the mathematical comparison,
deviating from the pivot                   therefore     -
   away from each of the unit's verbs and adjective attachments -
  i just wanted to stress that each respective facts,
  are but a centimetre of expression,
   compared with what each evolves into - a marathon
on either side - perhaps it's because that's a necessary building
block to something greater: i can't complain that being
aware of this fact is a hindering beginning -
       i'm not saying that being aware of this maxim is
somehow going to improve your contentment with life -
    geometrically it's not like
                                                      horizo­ntal left to right -
more like vertical left to left-up and right to right-up
             and never therefore - for a reason,
consequently... but rather in parallelism -
                   for no reason whatsoever -
                                              contra-sequential­ly;
unless you know a Queen of Sweden, i don't see how
thinking precipitates into being that might you
leave you satisfied - and let's not a put a ****** on it
either: how many thoughts about killing someone
end up being jokes with a friend late at night?

MORE BAD STUFF IN PARIS



LAST NIGHT, ME WHO IS CRONUS, AND BUDDHA AND ATHENA WERE WORKING OVERTIME

WITH THE SOULS OF THE HOSTAGES KILLED IN THE SUPERMARKEY SITUATION, AND ALSO

THE KILLING OF THE TWO HOSTAGES KILLED IN THE PARIS MAGAZINE ATTACK, AND DESPITE

ME SAYING THEY NEED MEDICATION, CRONUS, DECIDED TO REALLY, GET IN ON THE MINDS

OF THE COPS, SO THEY CAN DRAG THESE MEN DOWN, AND EVEN IF THEY DID DIE, WHICH

THEY DID, THEY WILL GO TO NEXT LIFE ANYWAY, THIS IS WHO AQUEDA THING CALLED BE

A WAY TO RUIN CRONUS AND ATHENAS PLAN TO BRING INNER PEACE TO THE WORLD, AND

THE FACT THAT 3 GUNMEN DIED, BUT ONE WOMAN GUN PERSON FLED THE SCENE, AND

THIS COULD TAKE FOREVER, YOU SEE, CRONUS, WHO IS ME AND ATHENA AND BUDDHA

TOLD POLICE, TO AIM FIRE, CAUSE CRONUS WAS GIVING HIS EARTH BODY, BRIAN, TO

JUST KEEP THE PEACE, BY BUDDHISM, BUT UMMMMM WE HAVE RID THESE EVIL DUDES

UMMMMMM THEY HAVE BEEN LAID TO BURN IN A FIREY HELL, UMMMMMM WELL, WHAT I

MEAN BY FIRERY HELL, IS THEY WILL BE PUT IN ATHENA’S LITTLE JAIL, AND BE PUT

ON UNIVERSAL TV, TO BE EXPLAINED TO THEM, THAT THEIR NEXT LIFE, WILL BE DISCIPLINED

ABOUT KILLING ALL THESE INNOCENT PEOPLE, AND I KNOW I SAID, GIVE THEM MEDICATION

BUT IF I SAID **** THEM, IT MIGHT BE HARDER FOR THE POLICE TO CATCH THEM, AS SOON

AS THE GUNMEN CAME UP TO BUDDHA, ATHENA AND CRONUS’S ENTRY TO THE AFTERLIFE

THE TERRORST GUNMEN SAID TO US, SHUT UP, I AM TRAINING MY NEXT LIFE TO BE A TERRORIST

AND WE’LL SPOIL YOUR STUPID PLAN, DUDES, WE’LL SPOIL YOUR STUPID PLAN, AND THEN

AS BUUDHA, ATHENA AND CRONUS, BROUGHT THE THREE GUNMEN THROUGH, THE AFTER LIFE

SAID BOOOOOOO HIIIIIIISSSS BOOOOOOO HIIIIIISSS, AND THEN THEY ALL YELLED, GO TO THE SUN

TO BURN OFF THEIR HOOLIGAN, AND THEN GRABBED A KEG OF METHANE, AND TIPPED METHANE

ALL OVER THESE TERRORISTS, AND THEN SENT THEM TO THE SUN AND STRAPPED THEM DOWN

SO THEY CAN’T SPOIL THE AFTERLIFE, FOR EVERYONE ELSE, THESE PEOPLE ARE IN CHRISTIAN HELL

AND IN BUDDHIST SUN, THE SUN AND METHANE, IS THE WAY WE ****, OFF OUR HOOLIGAN IN ALL

OUR BODIES, THE INNOCENT PEOPLE KILLED IN SUPERMARKET ARE BEING HONOURED ON SATURN

WITH A CONCERT BY SAM KINISON, SINGING WILD THING, YOU GO TO THE SUN NOW, YOU MAKE MY HEART

SING, AS WE ARE BURNING YOUR HOOLIGAN NOW, YOU WILL MAKE THE AFTER LIFE GROOVY, YOU BIG

DISPICKABLE WILD THING, WILD THING, I WANNA DISCIPLINE YOU, CAUSE I WANNA BURN YA OLD TERRORIST BODY

AND BRING YOU TO YOUR NEXT LIFE, AND HAVE YOU LEARN, ABOUT THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS

AND THE KILLED HOSTAGES WERE DANCING UP THERE SENDING THE TERRORISTS, TO THE SUN

TO BE BURNED, AND REFORMED, TO BE BROUGHT TO THEIR NEXT LIFE, TO ****** LEARN AND

THEN BARRY ALLAN CAME OUT AND SANG A FEW SONGS HE USED TO SING TO US, I FORGOT HOW

THE SONGS WENT, BUT I REMEMBERED THEM, AS DAD, DECIDED TO HELP ME WITH THE REFORMING

OF THESE TERRORISTS, MAYBE THAT IS THE SPIRITUAL REASON WHY CRONUS BECAME HIS SON

BECAUSE HIS LAST 2 LIVES LOST THEIR LIVES TOO YOUNG, AND NOW CRONUS GETS UP AND SAYS

UMMMMMMMM WE HAVE KILLED 3 GUNMEN


UMMMMMMMMM THEY ARE ON THE SUN BURNING AWAY THEIR HOOLIGAN


UMMMMMMMMM   THANKS TO CRONUS, WHO IS ME, THIS DOESN’T GO INTO THE OSAMA FILE



UMMMMMMMMM  THE TERRORIST ATTACK MIGHT STILL BE ON AS GIRLFRIEND IS STILL AT LARGE



UMMMMMMMM BURN IN THE SUN BURN IN THE SUN, BURN RIGHT DOWN, **** THEIR HOOLIGAN

UMMMMMMMM  BURN IN THE SUN BURN IN THE SUN BURN RIGHT DOWN  **** THEIR HOOLIGAN

UMMMMMMMM   WE WILL BRAY FOR BUDDHA, TO KEEP THE HOSTAGES SAFE FROM THE TERRORISTS

UMMMMMMMM WE MUST PRAY TO BUDDHA, TO KEEP EARTH SAFE, AND MEND EACH BLADE OF GRASS

UMMMMMMMMM  TO FINALLY WIN THE WAR ON TERROR


UMMMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN UMMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN UMMMMMMM **** THEIR HOOLIGAN


UMMMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM UMMMMMMMMMMM


AND CRONUS, AND ATHENA WENT OVER TO THE SUN, AND BURNING THEIR EVIL SOUL, TO HOPEFULLY BRING

PEACE ON EARTH

CRONUS, WHO IS ME, SAYS, THIS, THE WORLD NEEDS TO CRACK DOWN ON THIS WAR ON TERROR, OR WORLD WAR 3 WILL ERUPT

AND WE’LL HAVE TO GET EVERYONE FIGHTING IN THE WAR, LIKE THE SYDNEY SIEGE AND THIS EVENT OF THE ATTACKS IN PARIS

AND ALL THE STUFF IN THE PAST, NO WE ARE LOOKING TOWARD WORLD WAR 3, IF WE’RE NOT CAREFUL, INSTEAD OF ARGUING

EACH POLITITAN, OF EACH COUNTRY HAS TO CRACK DOWN, WITH TOUGHER LAWS, EVEN IF IT CREATES PEOPLE BEING RICH ******

IT’S BETTER THAN LOSING ALL THESE LIVES THROUGH THE WAR ON TERROR, WE NEED TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM THIS

ATHENA SAID, YEAH, HOW THE WORLD CAN STOP THIS, DOES SOUND IMPOSSIBLE, BUT, WE MUST MAKE THE LAWS TOUGHER

INSTEAD OF WORRYING ABOUT COPYRIGHT, TRY AND FIGURE OUT HOW TO STOP TERRORIST ATTACKS, LIKE CHANGE

LAWS,MAKING IT HARD FOR PEOPLE TO OBTAIN GUNS, OR HERE IS A SOLUTION, TOUGHER GUN LICENSES, CAUSE, IT’S

A SHAME WE HAVE TO DO THIS

BUUDHA AND CRONUS CHANTED

UMMMMMMMMMMM  GUN GUN WHY DOES THE WORLD GUNS UMMMMMMMMM WE UNDERSTAND THE POLICE I UNDERSTAND THE POLICE


UMMMMMMMMMMM POLICE CAN PROTECT US WITH GUNS  UMMMMMMMMMM  BUT TOO MANY PEOPLE ARE KILLING PEOPLE WITH GUNS

UMMMMMMMMMMM WHAT CAN WE DO, WHAT CAN WE DO   UMMMMMMMMMMM WE NEED TO HAVE TOUGHER GUN LAWS

AND THEN THE INNOCENT HOSTAGES WERE SET FREE, AND BUDDHA AND CRONUS, LEFT THE GUNMEN BURNING THEIR HOOLIGANS IN THE SUN

SO THE FUTURE OF THE WORLD CAN BE SAVED, AND NOT BRING ON WORLD WAR 3

I AM CRONUS

When weak people tease


You see as people go about every day life, they push people around a lot and also another thing they do as well, you see mate is try and tease in a way to make people jitter and even if they might not look like they don't know how to tease, they are teasing they are trying to bring all their friends together and tease them, and they are trying to tease the little shy boy, even if that they are little shy boys anyway, because at least I have a life and I want to be rich and famous, while people are trying to tease in so many ways, like one way they are prepared to say shut up **** every time he says something and when he goes on the computer, he can hear his dad saying be a little teasie, because his dad said that he us shy and some young hooligans said we'll kidnap him to tease him, even if they are trying to make him jitter, even if they are as weak as ****** ****, you see people should do volunteer work and do are had write poems and be cool, while my dad is saying your still either a kid or a lady and my new mate is teasing me with his friends, first he invites me over, so he can be helped by me and then he invitesj some other mentally ill people over and started to tease me with his friends because he is saying that your still a little shy boy, and he will say that he ain't shy to complain about work and remain poor, just as
Long as he has his fun teasing, and he says that that you are still a defensive little **** and you know you need to realise that I ain't shy to tease you buddy, I will drink alcohol over you and then I will go to pub and have a few alcoholic beverages avd say that you are still getting teased even if it makes him look like a ****** geek, and only geeks tease like that anyway, because they try to tease in so many ways and even if they are little geeky kids, they try and avoid being treated like a geek by saying that they are a teasing but the thing is whether they are teasing or not, they are still a pack of geeks and they will all die long and painfull deaths, and they aren't really cool but they will say that they are teasing to avoid getting teased themselves, they are all a pack of shy ***** who really aren't coping with life very well, so they try and tesse, and that is the end of another instalment

i could conceive the western concept of the rehab,
but then for 3 weeks i was in poland
i didn't touch the bottle for that period of time...
i don't see how an addict with a bunch
of addicts can be cured by anything other than
stigma... i'm actually happy addicted to
addiction: i entered my reading-mode...
   that said, most people can't digest a Kraszewski
book... **** me, we read Bradbury in snippets
just to tow in an essay for A-level english...
       philip augustus, or the chess player concerning
the Angevin family... great stuff...
   i didn't choose the book, my grandfather did,
he owned half the Kraszewski collection and read
nothing of it, he had to find a ******* "bored"
enough to read one of the books,
   and as i once said: i've seen the movie adaptations
of the Sienkiewicz trilogy...
         the cossack uprising, the swedish deluge...
and i said to myself: i can't and i won't...
thanks you jerzy hoffman, and yes: thank you
peter jackson...
              the infinite supply of elven arrows
and Legolas shooting orcs at point-blank range did
it for me...
                thankfully i can write something
as obscure as this, and know, for certain, that
there's a back-alley of the human populace out there
that might be searching for something like this...
   but that's what i found entertaining,
i actually had the opposite of wanting to compliment
the film adaptation of sienkiewicz, with an actual
sienkiewicz book... mind you: Kraszewski covers
the same period... and it's all the same time frame...
   should i write a proof that i read the **** thing?
maybe... but the main idea is that:
a metropolis cannot provide the right environment
for a book... or completing a book...
books are read in the countryside, in small towns,
in palaces... in hunting lodges...
          and i dare say: reading a book, getting into
full swing of the narrative is best done in daylight hours...
and i'll come back to the daylight hours,
  as a drinker and writer i chose the night...
  you know how long it took me to restore my
biological clock, and regain the nocturnal realm after
spending 3 weeks with a clear schizophrenia
of sleeping in the night and wriggling about during
the day? 2 weeks! i restored the biological pendulum,
but i have to admit: i feel ****...
    but i guess it's a worthy sacrifice...
i'm planning to go back to my country of origin
during late spring to read some more books...
i couldn't have read don quixote, the brothers karamazov,
bertrand russell's history of western philosophy
    yada yada yada... or kierkegaard's either / or,
or finished off kant's critique without my place of birth...
  and isn't it like a badge of honour?
                some will tell you to speak out an eastern
mantra... om... and the shattering of chandelier...
the western mantra is also a type of hypnosis,
you have to find a rhythm with a book...
  the mantra is the narrative of a book, and the silence
that incubates you has shark-teeth should anyone approach...
   but urban living makes this spot harder to find
than a begger or the ******... you can read books
in large cities... before you head home you're
bombarded with the psychology of exploiting your
literacy, in adverts, in orientating signs...
        with them being so authoritarian, it's hard
to find time for a liberal attitude to books...
            esp. what books are, best described by people
who'd probably like to throw them like molotov
cocktails in protest marches: thick as bricks those
gargantuan apostles of the void are...
       and so we are: sitting in times of hyperinflation
of literature... if that isn't the case, let me know by
Tuesday next week, i'll brood the assumption myself
until then...
      that's 2 weeks it took me to return to my writing mode...
to get back to the nocturnal realm
where everything is doubly black & white...
                 the point is: i want to write at a time when
the surrounding world sleeps...
     last time i remember, i didn't get a message in my dreams,
i'd love to see letters in my dreams, fortunately
i can't... i haven't seen these artefacts in dreams,
      but it's hard to blame memory as not strained enough
to do so... the unconscious and memory don't really
interact that well... it's a paradox that they even do
and that dreams have some sort of existence involved in
the architecture of our psyche...
                        last night i dreamt of lego batman because:
d'uh his endearing sarcasm... and godzilla!
   boo ya!         and this large city being eaten up
by a tornado, and other things phantasmogorical....
well pandemonium here, pandemonium there...
    don't get any ideas about the nature of dreams and
oedial repression... please! unaffordable housing prices
these days can only mean i'd really earn a mortgage
if my ***-drive went to the dogs, of the profession.
    so 3 weeks of a sober life and enough time to read
books... and my return into a writing life, a nocturnal
life, and drinking...
   mind you, in between there was that masters final
with ronnie o'sullivan (at least romford is famous for
something) vs. joe perry... in the last frame, when they
had 30 odd points each, and they were plucking at the
last remaining red ball for the snooker?
       snooker is a metaphor for the savannah...
you either watch snooker, or a david attenborough naturalist
show... there's the herd of buffalo (the red *****)...
           and the cue ball the hunting predator...
well... it's all a bit abstract, there are just ***** on a green
table... but still... at least in snooker you can bug
the "pawn" (red) ***** without having to *** them,
in chess you destroy completely... the pawns go...
there's no time to keep them for a no-man's land pause...
and i just turned 30... which goes to show:
                  if the game of football was perfect,
i mean perfect like tennis is with hawk-eye and
    6 judges vertical, 4 judges horizontal...
                  then football wouldn't be so passionate,
so religious... the reason it is so religious is because
judging it is so ****** imperfect...
     there's a reason why football can't be perfected in a way
as rugby can, where the referee can pause the game
and ask for a replay... the unfairness principle!
it has to be unfair in order for people to feel even more
impassioned by it! that's why in that film
when Alec Baldwin says something along the lines:
god comes first (while his hand holds out
the index and *******), and football comes second
(the index finger disappears)...
      football can never be a sport that has perfect
refereering... which makes me surprised as to why
it can grace the Olympic games...
                   football (in english, not that theme park
of jumping torpedoes) - yes the football known as:
ballet with hairy legs...
                   it has to remain unfair and subsequently
quasi-religious because it generates the most money,
but apart from that, it has gained a quasi-religious
status because it reflects a sort of life we acknowledge:
the referee made a bad decision, god did this... blah blah...
  and we get passion, religious passion that's
best represented by football hooligans...
                        but whereas other sports perfect their
techniques of refereeing a game, football hasn't done
the least possible, because it requires the whole debate
of: life's unfair!
    if it wasn't for unfair refeering, the game would not
be alive, as it is alive, to stage a confrontation
with: apache west ham, and sioux millwall...
       it's the best way to ensure tribalism...
         make the refereeing unfair, don't improve it...
blame it on the man in the sky, or the ponce in new zealander...  
mind you....
   the last football match i went to was at Stamford Bridge,
Chelsea lost to Newcastle United...
             i just just there like a stoic twant...
           i couldn't imitate the screams and the chants...
   i was just mesmerised at how it's so different from
watching a football match without the television acting
like a microscope... i am sure i was looking elsewhere
when someone scored a goal...
                 i probably went to the toilet when i
missed another goal...
                        and i'll reiterate...
   it can't be a gentlemanly sport, the rules can't be fair,
that's why they call it the sport of the rabble,
they have to contain the illusion of being unfair...
       because it's a "rabble" sport...
the referee has to make bad decisions,
otherwise there would be a "what if" dimension...
ask any Pole about the 1974 semi-finals with Germany
and ask them about the weather that day...
  then ask about the Polish wingers... and how fast they
were... and how the pitch was so slosh, and ice-puppy
fudge that the slow germans won it...
                     because the Poles always say:
we could have beaten the Nedetherlands in the final...
        again: football, if it is to be stated as the secular
alternative to religion, has to have an inherent unfairness in it...
all the other sports will perfect their judgement,
football will not move an inch... just like a religion -
perhaps that's also because we live in times of
cold-consumerism,
       a quick comparison is:
   the reactions of antonio conte vs.
                       ivan lendl -
   the former looks like a raving lunatic when something
good, or bad happens...
   the second? is he watching tennis, or playing poker?

MY NEICE IS A AN OLD ROCK AND ROLL SINGER OF THE PAST




YOU SEE MY NIECE CAITLIN IS A ROCK SINGER

JUST LIKE MY BROTHER IS

THERE COULD BE PREVIOUS LIVES STORIES HERE

LIKE SHE COULD BE ROY ORBISON OR RICKY MAY

OR SOMEONE BETTER, CAUSE MY NIECE CATLIN

IS SO PERFECT AT SINGERS, IT GOES FURTHER THAN  GENES

IF MY MATE PAUL BERENYI DIED IN 1995 LIKE A ****** TOLD ME

HE COULD BE CAITLIN, BUT YOU CAN’T TRUST OTHER PEOPLE

BETTER JUST TRUST THE NEWS

AND NO MATTER WHO CAITLIN WAS IN HER PREVIOUS LIFE

SHE SHOULD ****** CHOOSE, WHAT IS A HER CHARACTER

I AM JUST CRONUS THE POWERFUL GOD

I CAN TELL IF I HAVE THE INTERNET FACTS

I CAN FIND PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERNS

BY, WORKING OUT WHEN PEOPLE DIE

AND HOW MANY YEARS, AND NORMALLY IF THEY YELL

THEY WERE EITHER, KIDNAPPERS, OF OLD HOOLIGANS OF THE PAST

BUT CAITLIN IS A GREAT SINGER, AND SHE HAS SOME PREVIOUS LIFE PATTERN

I KNOW MY BROTHER IS A SINGER TOO, BUT THERE IS MORE THAN THAT I KNOW

LIKE, I WAS ISABELLA OF FRANCE, I WAS THEIR FAMILIES ENTERTAINER

I KNOW SCOTT MCDONALD WANTED TO TEASE ME

SO HE DIED AND BECAME TWO CATS, LUCKY THE CAT WHO WILL TEASE DAD

WHEN IT RAINS, AND MUSCLES WAS TO SAY ONLY ANIMALS DO WHAT I DID BACK THEN

THAT IS WHY THE GUYS TEASED ME

IF PAUL DID DIE, IN 1995, HE COULD BE MY NIECE CAITLIN

BECAUSE NOW I MENTION IT, IT COULD’VE BEEN BEFORE 1995 WHEN I SAW HIM

AT TUGGERANONG WITH ANTHONY COSTA WATCHING BASKETBALL

BUT I KNOW DAD IS IN THE ****** OF LISA CAMPBELL, WITH ROBIN WILLIAMS

WHAT I AM TRYING TO DO, IS BRING MY FAMILY HAPPINESS

CAITLIN COULD BE PAUL BERENYI, OR COULD BE ROY ORBISON

AND NO MATTER WHO SHE IS, SHE IS MY NIECE, AND SUSAN IS MY OTHER NIECE

AND I LOVE THEM BOTH TO BITS

AND NOW, THE RAIN IS COMING CAUSED BY PAUL BERENYI

SAYING NO MATTER WHO I AM, CRONUS SHOULD KEEP IT DOWN

GO TO BED USA, AS THERE IS A BIG SURFING TOURNAMENT IN MERCURY

ORGANISED BY THE TERRORISTS, TO CALM THE HEAT, AND NOT **** THEIR HOOLIGAN

BUT CRONUS TELLS DAD, TO KEEP THEM STRAPPED IN THE SUN

WHERE NO WATER CAN SAVE THEM, THEY’LL SUFFER

Canberra people are shy ya know
Canberra people are shy ya know
They don’t want to do anything fun
You see they cancelled the lighting of the Christmas tree
No reason, Canberra Is just shy
You see they don’t like people doing vlogs
In their city because they feel very uneasy
Uneasy what a bunch of crap
Canberra people are just fucken shy
Canberra love being shy
I want this virus to end
So the government will let me *******
Maybe down to Adelaide
To do something fun
You see Canberra are fucken shy
They don’t want to do anything
Ya know I want fun I want fun
You see Canberra a hooligans
But not cool hooligans
Shy hooligans
And ya know who I hate
People who don’t want to take the jab
Especially when they want to travel
Canberra is just fucken boring
Nothing to do nothing to do
Nothing ever to do
Canberra a just a pack
Of shy hooligans
Because family people do what I do
I am a family person
I love life I never lose faith
I like fun
But Canberra people hate fun
They sit in their houses being
The old Scrooge
You see, the local pat’s a ******
The local Paul’s a drunk
The local Glenn grooms kids online
And the local Lyle is a ****
What do ya say what do ya say
The local Lyles a ****