there are so many places to hide,

in my home at 17th and South screaming death threats at my roommates laughing diabolically playing  videogames and Jeopardy cooking quinoa stretching canvas the dog going mad frothing lunging  spastic to get the monkeys or the wookies or whatever random commandments we issue forth  drunken while Schlock rampages the backdrop,

at my uncle's row house on 22nd and Wallace with my shoes off freezing skipping class to watch March  Madness unwrapping waxpaper hoagies grimacing with each sip of Cherrywine or creamsicle  soda reading chapters at my leisure,

in the stacks among fiberglass and eternal florescent lima-tiled and echo-prone red-eyed and white-faced  caked with asbestos and headphones exhuming ossified pages from layers of cosmic dust  presiding benevolent,

in University City disguised in nothing but a name infiltrating Penn club soccer getting caught after  scoring yet still invited to the pure ***** joy of hell and heaven house parties of ice luge jungle  juice kegstand coke politic networking,

at Drexel's nightlit astroturf with the Jamaicans rolling blunts on the sidelines playing soccer floating in  slo-mo through billows of purple till the early morning or basketball at Penn against goggle- eyed professors in kneepads and copious sweat,

in the shadow tunnels behind Franklin Field always late night loner overlooking rust belt rails abandoned  to an absent tempo till tomorrow never looking behind me in the fear that someone is there,

at Phillies Stadium on glorious summer Tuesdays for dollar dog night laden with algebra geometry and  physics purposely forgetting to apply ballistics to the majestic arc of a home run or in the frozen  subway steam selling F.U. T.O. t-shirts to Eagles fans gnashing when the Cowboys come to town,

at 17th and Sansom in the morning bounding from Little Pete's scrambled eggs toast and black coffee  studying in the Spring thinking All is Full of Love in my ears leaving fog pollen footprints on the  smoking cement blooming,

at the Shambhala Center with dharma lotus dripping from heels soaking rosewater insides thrumming to the  groan of meditation,

at the Art Museum Greco-fleshed and ponderous counting tourists running the Rocky steps staring into shoji screen tatame teahouses,

at the Lebanese place plunked boldly in Reading Terminal Market buying hummus bumping past the Polish  and Irish on my way to the Amish with their wheelwagons packed with pretzels and honey and  chocolate and tea,

at the motheaten thrift store on North Broad buried under sad accumulations of ramshackle clothing  clowning ridiculous in the dim squinting at coathangers through magnifying glasses and mudflat  leather hoping to salvage something insane,

in the brown catacombed warrens of gutted Subterranea trying unsuccessfully to ignore bearded medicine

men adorned with shaman shell necklaces hawking incense bootlegs and broken Zippos halting conversation to listen pensive to the displacement of air after each train hurtles by,

at 30th Street Station cathedral sitting dwarfed by columns Herculean in their ascent and golden light  thunderclap whirligig wings on high circling the luminous waiting sprawled nascent on stringwood pews,

at the Masonic Temple next to City Hall, pretending to be a tourist all the while hoping scouring for clues in the cryptic grand architect apocrypha to expose global conspiracies,

at the Trocadero Electric Factory TLA Khyber Unitarian Church dungeon breaking my neck to basso  perfecto glitch kick drums with a giant's foot stampeding breakbeat holographic mind-boggled  hole-in-the-skull intonations,

at the Medusa Lounge Tritone Bob and Barbara's Silk City et cetera with a pitcher a pounder of Pabst and a  shot of Jim Beam glowing in the dark at the foosball table disco ball bopstepping to hip hop and  jazz and accordions and piano and vinyl,

in gray Fishtown at Gino's recording rap holding pizza debates on the ethics of sampling anything by  David Axelrod rattling tambourines and smiles at the Russian shopgirl downstairs still chained to  soul record crackles of antiquity spiraling from windows above,

at Sam Doom's on 12th and Spring Garden crafting friendship in greenhouse egg crate foam closets  breaking to scrutinize cinema and celebrate Thanksgiving blessed by holy chef Kronick,

in the company of Emily all over or in Kohn's Antiques salvaging for consanguinity and quirky heirlooms  discussing mortality and cancer and celestial funk chord blues as a cosmological constant and  communism and Cuba over mango brown rice plantains baking oatmeal chocolate chip cookies,

in a Coca Cola truck riding shotgun hot as hell hungover below the raging Kensington El at 6 AM nodding soft to the teamsters' curses the snagglesouled destitute crawling forth poisoned from sheet-metal shanty cardboard box projects this is not desolate,

at the impound lot yet again accusing tow trucks of false pretext paying up sheepish swearing I'll have my  revenge,

in the afterhour streets practicing trashcan kung fu and cinder block shotput shouting sauvage operatic at  tattooed bike messenger tribesmen pitstopped at the food trucks,

in the embrace of those I don't love the names sometimes rush at me drowned and I pray to myself for  asylum,

in the ciphers I host always at least 8 emcee lyric clerics summoning elemental until every pore ruptures  and their eyes erupt furious forever the profound voice of dreadlocked Will still haunting stray  bullet shuffles six years later,

in the caldera of Center City with everyone craning our skulls skyward past the stepped skyscrapers  beaming ear-to-ear welcoming acid sun rain melting maddeningly to reconstitute as concrete  rubber steel glass glowing nymphs,

in Philadelphia where every angle is accounted for and every megawatt careers into every throbbing wall where  Art is a mirror universe for every event ever volleyed through the neurons of History,

in Philadelphia of so many places to hide I am altogether as a funnel cloud frenetic roiling imbuing every corner sanctum sanctorum with jackhammer electromagnetism quivering current realizing stupefied I have failed so utterly wonderful human for in seeking to hide I have found

in Philadelphia

originally it reads as:
(****, i am drunk: do sudoku drunk!
          what a ******!)
x x x     x x x     x x x
x 7 6     x 5 9     3 x x  
x x 8     x 7 x     x 1 x

x x 2     x 1 x     x 5 x
x x x     3 x 7     1 2 x
1 6 9     x 2 x     x x x

x x x     4 x 1     7 8 x
9 4 x     7 x x     x 6 x
x 5 x     6 x x     x x x

      now i really want to learn something,
but i don't seem to want to...

the end result?

3 1 5  8 4 6  9 7 2
2 7 6  1 5 9  3 4 8
4 9 8  2 7 3  5 1 6

7 3 2  9 1 8  6 5 4
5 8 4  3 6 7  1 2 9
1 6 9  5 2 4  8 3 7

6 2 3  4 9 1  7 8 5
9 4 1  7 8 5  2 6 3
8 5 7  6 3 2  4 9 1...

    bu there's a narrative to mind...
the        ) game,
        half an hour's worth of game after inserting
the first six -
                    (a
                      b) matrixes -
             the theta-phi debate crosswords and blind-spots -
but the narrative goes like this:

a.   7                          1
      1                          5  ­    )
      x 7       1              2
                                    "zooming in with a nibbled into 6",
b. 5 |  5
           7
           1
           x
       x  2  x
           x
           x
           x
                       c. 2nd 5
                          6 x x  4 x 1  7 8 x (5)
d. 1st 5
          5 x x  4 x 1  7 8 x
          9 4 x  7 x x  x 6 x
         x 5 x  6 x x  x x x
                              e. x x x         x x 2              x x x
                                  x 7 6    |   x x x    |        9 4 x
                                  x x 8         1 6 9              x 5 x
f. x x x
   x 5 9
   x 7 x
   x 1 x               x 5 x
   3 x 7
   5 2 x
   4 x 1
   7 x 5               7 8 5
   6 x x
               (more than or haczyk, or háček
            a hook: in saying: oi! geezer!
traffic that 'un!  
                           but still more than or less
than in Copernican lingua?
dunno... well: that's two smokin' barrels' worth
of info for the inauguration -
'cos' pretty face over 'ere was half a wit's know-churn
off a *****... 'now what i mean?'
they necessarily say it in sprechen glutton Danzig
so you look smart, and not like some artful dodgy
podger:
              n'es pas?                             twinkle tweezer ****:
oi right and that ****** off came with the touch
of a knuckle: 'cos' i wasn't preaching trigonometry:
nor was i ******* kidding.
               down the east end they call us Vlad-sodden
impaler imperialistic -
         after the little debacle we 'av a laugh and drink
a bottle of *****...
          then we do the rickety chance of engaging in
baptismal fire with the Jamaicans -
or so you know. well, wouldn't you believe it,
look how far being called vermin gets ya!
all the way to Buckingham Palace me says!
         and some dared to say: ransack Sicily.
blah ha ha... your's a tongue on the leash!

g.    x - 4? / 3?
       5
       7
       1
       x - 4?
       2
       x
       x
       x
                         h.  6 2 x  4 x 1  7 8 5
                              6 2 x  4 9 1  7 8 5
                              6 2 3 4 9 1  7 8 5
(breakthrough point!)

i. 7
      x
      1
      5
      2
      x
               j. x 7 6  1 5 9  3 x x

k. 7                  l. 7                   m. 7
    x                     x                         4
    1                     1                         1
    5                     5                         5
    2                     2                         2
    x                     3                      3
    8                     8                         8
    6                     6                         6
    9                  9                         9

n. 6 2 3  4 9 1  7 8 5
    9 4 x  7 8 5 x 6 x
    x 5 x  6 x x  x 1 x

         o. 6 2 3
             9 4 x
            8 5 x
                                    p. 6 2 3              4
                                       9 4 1     |    7
                                       8 5 7           6
          
the 1st square:      6 2 3
                                9 4 1
                                8 5 7.

    2nd square:
                            x          x
                ­            3          x
                            x          x­
                            x          x
                       ­     1          x
                            x          x
      ­                      7          5
       9 4 1
       2 6 3
       7 8 5;
                       q. square no. 2 anti linear:
4 9 1                               4 9 1
7 8 5              : / v.          7 8 5
6 x x                               6
             ergo
                      4 9 1
                      7 8 5
                      6 3 2
                                             3rd square:
    7 8 5                        7 8 5
    2 6 3         |             2 6 3
    x 9 x                        x 9 1....

subsequently: 8 5 7 6 3 2 4 9 1
  hence: 1 6 9 5 2 x x 3 7
       ": 1 6 9 5 2 4 8 3 7
       ": 2 7 6 1 5 9 3 4 8
         (interlude):
4 x 8 x 7 x x x(?)
                          
           r. x                        s. 7 3 2
               2                           x x x
               4                           1 6 9:           3
               7                                             2
               x                                                4
              ­ 1                                                7
              ­ 6                                               5
               9                                                1
              ­ 8                                                6
              ­                                                   9
                                                               ­  8

t. 1          then:      1
     7                           7
     x                           9
     3                           3
     x                           8
     6                           6
     2                           2
     4                           4
     5                           5

  then     7 3 2
               5 8 4
               1 6 9           then 5 8 4  3 6 7  1 2 9

          then 4                2
                    5                  9
   ­                 7                  8  
                    1    ­              3
                    6

      u. 7 3 2  x 1 x  x 5 4
then
             6 5 4              9 1 8
               1 2 9         |     3 6 7
               8 3 7                5 2 4

then
              6
               9
               3
                8                             8 4 6
                7                              1 5 9
                4                              2 7 3
                1
                5
                2

v. then 3 1 x  8 4 6  x 7 2
  then 3 1 5  8 4 6 9 7 2 0
then the crescendo:
                                  9 7 2
                                  3 4 8
                                  5 1 6         !

I want to know more than one
Haitian

I want to know more than three
Jamaicans

I want to meet Nigerians that speak
Igbo

Kenyans that laugh at the Swahili I learned in Berkeley
Ugandans that correct my Mandarin
Tanzanians that teach me how to say it in Cantonese  

I want to tour the holy city Ile-Ife
trace the pilgrimage path of Mansa Musa
then circle back to Timbuktu

See the reminders of Aksum
See the remainders of Kmt

Touch the Earth and envision the buildings that my ancestors constructed
thousands of years before they were invaded thousands of times
leaving the still standing walls that others never believed were thousands of years old
till their, “science” said so

I want to board a barge in the south and flow north with the Nile
I wonder what eight others will join me

I want to walk the same trail
that was the first trail
compare my foot print
to the first foot print

The vision I see
The things I want to do
The escape I want to take

Isnt one that is new

Its one that is old
so old that its in the blood
in the very fabric and design
of all that claim

Human

What I want is a realization
no
a reawakening
of my genetic inheritance
of my ancestral birthright

What calls me is the land so old
its true name
its original tongue
is the only
can only
be labeled

The First

There
that is what calls to me
There
that is what pushes me
that is the very intangible force that pulsates my heart
pumping the blood through my veins

That place that is forever older than old
yet
In a constant state of
Reconstruction
Recreation
Revelation
Renovation
Revitalization­

Revolution

I want to breath the air in that place that is always in a state of newness
I want to feel the frequency in that place
where there are as many words for new
as there are people to speak them

That is the place
That is the space
That is

© Christopher F. Brown 2015

Qui Transtulit Sustinet

There sat CONNECTICUT, a twit
blue nanny-state, and doomed to sit
on welfare-warrens of the ******
her social service on demand.
She withers on NEW ENGLAND‘s vine
a bygone has-been, and a sign
of democratic overkill
where her once-dear and verdant rill
now stagnant flows: polluted stream
a moribund New England dream.
The richest state with poorest heart:
the Northeast’s saddest story. Part
of history’s renowned revival,
now irrelevant. Survival
chains her children in dependence
keeping back the state’s ascendance.
Apostate Puritan, grown old—
for LIBERTY, no longer bold;
a slave to Man, where once God’s WORD
awakened greatness. Souls were stirred
in ENFIELD (of all strange places),
Christ beheld in radiant faces . . .
Edwards held their spellbound souls
like spiders over flaming coals,
in gratitude for Gospel grace
renewing thus both town and race.
But I digress. Connecticut
is what I came to speak about:
forgotten dull colonial matron
yoked in failure, plebe as patron
nostalgic for her Charter Oak
whose deadwood limbs went up in smoke
along with dark tobacco wrap
while the plantation took a nap.
Her social programs overgrowth
pose forest fire-risk. Under oath
her public servants signal virtue;
sign which really should alert you
to the democrat-machine’s
impending failure (ways and means).
Nutmeg-addled Tax-and-spenders,
dollar drunks on welfare benders
widen economic rifts;
force single moms toward double shifts
while Latin Kings hold court in prison
waiting out their royal season:
fiscally unsustainable—
yet totally explainable
(nutmeg is a drug for witches
spendthrift warlocks, bankrupt *******).
Oh HARTFORD, city of the dead
which dies at five, then home to bed,
insurance once assured your rise;
but now your ghosts haunt sadder skies.
Your life displaced, outsourced, out-dated;
so, it seems, your fall was fated.
Meanwhile, close to New York City,
fairer fields are growing pretty
long on corporate commutes.
Data-driven growth computes
as data-drivers flood the roads
and enter by Manhattan-loads
from golden coasts’ Atlantic shores
and posh patrician golden doors
to bite the apple of our time:
a number-cruncher built on crime.
New England’s puritannic granny
(data-driven tyrant ******)
seeks to harbor tropic isles
with blandly bureaucratic smiles.
Your poor dear heart cannot afford
to welcome every island lord
who looks to better his estate
and so decides to emigrate.
Displaced Jamaicans outta yard
compel the soft verse to get hard.
Boricua separatists, dispersed
show nationalities reversed
and dwell between two foreign lands
in Spanglish no one understands.
Such nutmeg gets the covens high
to soar the stormy Liberal sky.
It’s Yankee hubris: condescension
taxing plebes for such dissension.
Though you connect, there I would cut,
excising from New England’s gut
metastasizing social tumors:
clueless and obese consumers,
teenage moms, pajama-clad
whose nenes wait in vain for dad.
QUI TRANSTULIT SUSTINET—truth . . .
but that was was in our nation’s youth.
She’s gotten worse with passing years
confirming citizens’ worst fears;
showing her colors every vote
her monotone, a droning note
on which the blue-bloods hang their hue
when hope and change are overdue.
Her atheist zeal meets Yankee pride:
a most progressive broomstick ride;
oblivious to her Christian past,
an enemy of God at last.

whats a Jamaicans favorite country

Yemen  (Yaman)

lol poem of the year
if u dont like it ur a queer

Where days go on and on, you feel the dirtiness reach into your eyes.

Some days are so *****, the gods and saints of London

lets the city rain **** for our punishment.

They watch laughing without any care

Cops rather chase the dope freaks,

instead of stopping the pill sellers right in every corner downtown.

cops who eat their **** for breakfast,

then go spouting it all over the innocent ones.

Jamaicans jamming the drums

i don’t know where to go?

Hamilton my old home,

still hasn’t wiped its *** in over fifty years.

but London here I come again,

another year with you.

For the helluvit, the hollow wit of an Emcee/ I noticed my character questioned," what exactly is an etiquette story?"/ I could not answer the banter entailed to the name/ and so I word smith as though my cutting pen had pierced the name/...an Expression that beckoned a game played/ the mental stage an Arena Athena has still Graced/ Aphrodite the deity seeking only one form of Pay/ but the wages and all its royalties only gain me the Grave/ hey, for the Helluvit, He love it for no reason at all/ had a liking for shallow sentences like," all I know is to Ball"/ and so the Fall, would," leave" him 'miss pro ported'/ the Autumn of automation debatin if she's distorted,/ the vision He had held in Kind/ the mind remains a battle field/ rattle deals with the serpents heel/ what an expression to mention Medusa's gaze is real/ 6 inch High shoes to step on me to squeal/ my spleen splattered as Hades collects a second corpse to feal../ I mean fill, I was literally rhyming /a rhetoric for mythical geeks and nerds who feel time the Timing../ of the note came at a time when/ life just took a turn for the logical practice/ philosophical addict/ tell em get it straight , or lay gay with the treacherous habit/ of being lazy to account for all gimmicks that lasted/ a year or so when you coulda stopped em in they tracks then/ but they became Jamaicans at the olympics and they Past/..You, as indirect as a local commercial/ never care for the ones you hurt for they come back to hurt you/ inhumane you moving by instinct/ you love feeling the pain but know it is distinct/ from the joy that really comes in the Morning, a Dark "knight"/ Risen from the ashes of the carnage, and just might/ break in to the crack of dawn/ kick the bucket full of the prawns/ from fishin up for Men formally known as Pawns/ to the greatest chess game never played/ one is infinitely the victor the other eternally graved/its either you're a slave that Kills or a slave that here to help Save//.....Humanity.
  by my mentor D.E.S.T.R.O

yo! "homie"! you speak the tongue that you attribute your roots to? thought not, a hollowed out shell of a body with no tongue to wriggle out of it... i guess back home you couldn't play that ethnicity card, when unable to speak Swahili, right? immediate castration, ****, can't play the ethnic card here, since i don't know how to converse with my native pride... i'd call that **** parenting skills, that your parents overdid the integrating part to the point where we're talking Michael ******* Jackson... in inherent evil of bilingualism... i never allowed an englishman to step into my abode and force me to forget my mutterzunge, why didn't your parents teach you theirs? ah... could play the race card with respect to origin, you'd be treated inferior being black, among blacks... then again, if you taught me a word or two of Swahili, you'd earn my respect... instead i'm getting a hip hop "poetry" rant that's just annoying.*

i don't why the alt-right is deemed
so controversial...
         i only have to utter two words
to set the record straight:

          MARCUS        GARVEY

and that's it, self-explanatory -
    the call of an ethnic state has roots
in what marcus garvey stood for,
what did he stand for?

  for the blacks to return to the mother -
for the black americans to return
to africa...

         funny, how there's a similarity
only that in the latter instance:
      there's no where to move back to...

and i do wonder: do africans look down
upon afro-saxons or jay-z?
        if you ask me, from what i've seen,
the major charities,
the white chicks doing their bit
on aid trips to africa: but no black!

i'm starting to suspect that post-african
settlers in europe or america
would most probably feel inferior
     among the natives who remained,
they would probably be like:
you ancestors allowed us to be sold!

  come on, do you think it would be
easy to catch an NFL player or Goliath
of the NBA?
                   i can attest to something,
some people dream of
                a homogeneous society...
    but few actually manage to visit one
once a year to "celebrate" christmas...
let me just say:
                     it's nauseating...
           it's not that it's anything but
what i'm not used to...
  chancing upon two black guys
         in the centre of Warsaw is like
watching a very much, rare event...

        while in Ilford, Essex,
just tickling the North Circular
i'm back where i am with what i am used
to: little Islamabad...
         and i can sort of see both sides
of the coin, in that i think about this
multiculturalism nonchalantly,
               i shrug my shoulders and think:
****** time to be english proper -
born & bred...

                               yet the argument still
stands...
                    the africans in either europe
or america would feel intimidated,
nauseated by returning to a homogeneous
society...
                   it still stands that marcus
garvey would be considered alt-right these days...
and while once upon a time
the jamaicans sang about their homeland
Ethiopia, they smoked a joint and then said:
ah... let's do it tomorrow...
and on the next day they sang some more
rolled and smoked another joint and said:
ah... let's do it tomorrow.

Okay So What EXACTLY...
Is... " COVID-19 ".... ?!?

A....
......  (C.O.V.I.D)........

Certificate of Vaccination ID... ?!?

Take A Moment And THINK...
Do You Get The LINK... ???

Because Now It Seems...
That These Five Letters...
Expose An... "Agenda"...

That ISN’T To Better....
....... Humanity.......

Or To Wage Vendettas...
Against This Disease....

These Corporate Fellas...
Are About Vaccines And Making Money... !!!
They’ve Never Cared About What Scares...

Because They’re Always Prepared...
For Their Brand of Warfare... !!!

Like... VACCINATIONS...
Throughout World Nations...

From Jamaicans To Haitians...
Vaccination Stations...
Will NOT Be... Vacant... !!!!!

Because It’s Now BLATANT... !!!

World *******...
Is The Game Now Playing...
... WITHOUT Playstation... !!!

Impositions... FLAGRANT...
With A Mission Statement...

That’s Clearly Stating...
  
Vaccinations...
Social...... Spacing...... !!!!!!

Quarantine Stations...
BEFORE Vacations... !!!!!!

More Time Indoors And That’s Fa’ Sure...
Because Certain Laws Will Now ENFORCE...

That You’ll Pay A Price For Being OUTSIDE...
If Surveillance Eyes See You Out At Night...

And You Are VIEWED...
Trying To Make Moves...
When There Is A Curfew... !!!

A New World Truth...
That ISN’T Cool Like A Broken Tooth... !!!

Trying To Feed...
Without Needing Vaccines...

Or The Type of Injections...
That Need... INSPECTIONS...
Before They Start Spreading...
The Type of Infection...

Where Death Becomes...
Something That STUNS...  !!!

Like Governments...
Who’ve Recognised That All Their Lies...
And Grand Designs Were Being Compromised...
By Protest Lines And Guys Like... " Icke "... !?!

NOT Turner But Learners...
Who Are Now Discerners...
of... MORE Than Murders...

They’re Taking It Further...
Like... Mountain Herders... !!!

Wondering Why...
They’re Having To Find New Ways To Live Life...
With Chips Inside... Their Body And Mind...

And Vaccines Made That Our Leaders Say...

“ Are Needed Now, To Protect The State ! “...

And Their... ECONOMIES... !!!

I Mean EVEN BLIND Sheep...
Could of Seen This Coming...

But Peoples Brain Function...
Has Been Long Redundant...
Just Ask..... " LUCY ".....

So Now Even Movies...
May Not Be Seen...
Without Proof That...
You’ve Received A Vaccine... !?!

That’ll Mean Your Free...
of This... Corona Disease... !!!

So Can Walk The Streets...
And Probably Be...
Linked DIRECTLY...
To Things Like... 5G...

Because of Technology...
... Inside of Your Body... !!!!!!!!!

So There You Have It...
Humanity SAVAGED And Suitably RAVAGED...
For Leaders To Manage Our New Age Habits...

of... ZOOMING Here...
And... ZOOMING There... !!!
WITHOUT Going Anywhere... ?!?

Aren’t You People SCARED... ???
Well You Should BEWARE...

Because These Are Scenes...
That I Now Believe Will Come To Be...

A Whole New Breed...
of.... HUMANITY...

That... Inevitably...
Will See A Sheople' Breed...

Be The Ones To Receive...
......... VOLUNTARILY.......

What The Powers That Be...
Will Make... COMPULSORY... !!!

... TECHNOLOGY...

That’ll Track Where We’ve Been...
As Well As A... Need To Receive...
What THEY DEEM To Be CLEAN...

That... May Not Be... ?!?

So Think CAREFULLY...
Before You Believe...
That... You NEED...

....... “ The Vaccine “...... !!!

So ...
Who Do You ... " Believe " ... ???
  
MP's and Their ...  
... War Stories .... ???  
    
cos' ...
When It comes To ...    
Speaking .... TRUTH ....  
    
Their Talks Seems ...  
... " Pretty cheap " ...    
    
TRUST ME ...  
Some MP's ... ARE Liars ... !!!  
    
If You ...  
Don't Believe Me ...  
Try ... Stephen Byers ... !!!  
    
He LIED About ... " Railtrack " ... !!!  
    
He's ADMITTED He Did ...  
and ... That's A FACT ...  
    
They Asked Him To ... " Backtrack ... "    
But When He ... Did ... ?  
    
His Mind Went ... Black ... !!!  
    
Of Course I Mean ...  
His Mind Went ... "                 " ... !!!  
    
But Let's Move On ...  
To The ... " London Attacks " ... !!!  
    
REMEMBER ...  
What You ... HEARD ...  
    
" It's A Power Surge !!! " ....  
    
NOW It's ... " MUSLIMS " ...  
JAMAICANS and ... BLACKS ... !!!!!  
    
Come On Now .....  
What's Up With THAT ... ?!?  
    
DEPORTATION ...  
Is Now ... Part ...  
of Plans Being Made ...  
By YES ... Charles Clarke ... !!!  
    
Muslims Now ...  
Are Being ... MARKED ...  
As ... TERRORISTS ... !!!!!!!!  
    
DON'T Make Me Laugh ... !!!  
    
WHAT About ...  
  
Those THROWING BRICKS ...  
Through Mosque Windows ...  
Whilst Wearing ... "Masks" ... ?!?!?  
    
Is He Gonna ...    
DEPORT Them ... ???  
    
Probably NOT ...  
What's The ... PROBLEM ... !?!  
    
These ARE ...  
ENGLISH ... " TERROR Men " ... !!!  
    
Better Yet They're ...  
... Walking PHLEGM ... !!!  
    
Why Aren't THEY ...  
On ... " News At Ten " ... ?!?  
    
So ...  
WHO Do You ... " Believe " ... ???  
    
I Believe In ...  
What ... I SEE ...  
  
NOT Images On ...  
... TV Screens ... !!!!
    
These Days ... Life ...  
Is NOT A Dream ... !!!  
    
Technological ... TRICKS ...  
Can Make Things STICK ... !!!  
    
It's NOT All ... " Fun " ...    
Watch ... " Rising Sun " ...  
    
It's Just A ... " FLICK " ...  
Maybe ... " Fiction " ... ?  
    
But Nowadays ...  
You Could Get DONE ... !?!  
    
Neo ...  
A'INT The ... Only ONE ... !!!  
Whose Destined For ...  
    
Some ... TROUBLED TIMES ... !!!!!  
    
Might We See A ...  
THIRD ... World War ... ?!?  
    
I Believe ...    
While MANY ... "Grieve" ... !!!  
Silence Is A ... QUICK Relief ...  
For Those Who ...  " Choose " ...  
To ........................... "NEVER See" ......................  
    
PROBLEMS In ...  
    
... " Third World Countries " ...  
    
They're NOT ... " Third World " ... !!!!!  
It's .... POETRY .... !!!!!  
    
These Countries Have...  
... MUCH Poverty ... !!!  
    
How Many ... " Think " ...    
of Those Who ... BLEED ... !?!  
    
When They're At Home ...  
On Their ... " PC " ... ???  
    
SEE ... That's The Stuff ...  
I DON'T ... Believe ... ?!?  
    
While MASSES ... " TRUST " ...    
These ... SICK MP's ...  
  
Who ...  
DON'T Give A **** About ...  
LIES They ... FEED ... !!!!!  
    
These Men LACK ...  
... INTEGRITY ... !!!  
    
I Believe ...  
In Groups That Feed ...  
Messages ...  
That Set Minds FREE .................................................  
    
That's Why I Like ... " Public Enemy " ...    
NOT 50 Cent But YES ... " Chuck D " ...    
    
A Man Whose From ...  
A ... DYING Breed ... !!!  
    
A Man of VISION ...  
Like ... " Ice T " ...  
    
Men Who Came With Poetry ...  
That OPENED Eyes ...  
Who ... "Would Not See" ...  
    
The ... Nature of Man ...  
From ... EVERY Creed ...  
    
Those Who Live ...  
Their Life ON Streets ... !!!  
and Those NOT Practising ....  
What They ... PREACH ... !!!!!!!!!!  
    
Like Hospitals ...  
NOT Using ... Bleach ... !?!  
    
Those Who RUN THEM ...  
CAN'T Get .................................................................­.... Reached .... !!!  
    
By Laws To MAKE Them ...    
Keep Wards ... CLEAN ... !!!  
    
This Is ... REAL ...  
and ... A'in't A Dream ... !!!  
    
I Was ... STUNNED ...  
When Sickness Come ... !!!  
and Saw The Way ...  
Some Wards Were Run ...  
    
NOT Firsthand ... !!!!!  
But Through ... " My Mum " ...    
    
Sometimes I WISHED ...  
I Had A .... GUN .... !!!!!  
  
For Things These ... " Medics " ...  
Tried To .................................................................­................... "Shun" ...  
    
But Now She's Gone ......................  
To A ... BETTER Kingdom ...  
and Rests In Peace .......................................  
    
" I LOVE YOU MUM ! "  
    
NO MORE Do I ...    
Have To ... Grieve ...  
    
Cos' You Are ... FREE ...  
and I'm ... RELIEVED ... !!!  
    
But NOW I'm STUCK ...  
With ... LIARS and THIEVES ...    
    
So ...  
Tell Me Folks ...  
    
" Who Do You Believe ? "

Pre-scriptum (and yes, no italics this time round):

i was never going to do this day any justice by writing about
it, not in a hundred years, after all: i was going to write about my experiences prior to actual events external of me: not out of egoism or for that matter: a solipsism; i'm just not the type of "poet" akin to a Richard Blanco: the inaugural poet for Barack Obama's second term in office: i just can't bring myself to that Atlas' pose with a pen: perhaps i would require too much paper, but to stand there: like the inaugural poet does and speak so much mumbo-jumbo is... it's not beneath me, it's above me... i'm the "poet" of the Coliseum, i'm the "poet" of brothels and the "poet" of madness and the "poet" of shadows and the night, of the moon and of the forests, i'm the "poet" of aloneness, i'm a "poet" of the philosophers (perhaps a poet-philosopher - a vain title, i know), i'm not an oratory "poet", i'm the "poet" of the old tradition who sometimes smiles and giggles when he finds: rather than brings himself to rhyme! i already drafted something before writing this, i'm currently skim-reading it and trying to make it somewhat salvageable... i doubt i will find anything worth salvaging: that day (3 days have past) will remain a Titanic at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean for me... and so it should be... not that i haven't made the already necessary reflections: well... they were the reflexive-reflections not something i would give much thought to, for a reflection-proper: i absorbed too much on the day to be so generous... but i did the smartest thing imaginable: i took crux-photographs... pivotal pictures from the day... and catalogued them here: https://bit.ly/3d1Tto2...

i have to actually write a schematic if my approach to this is to make any sense: of course i will also interpolate the schematic, jumping from one "event" to another, the schematic is as follows:

(a) babysitting Malvina

                                  (b) West Ham vs. Steaua București
                                      at the London Stadium

(c) the brothel

                                    (d) Afghan "Jamie"
                                          and his gift and everything after...

question? i'm asking myself this... whether to abide
by the schematic linearly a > b > c < d
or to simply (as i already referenced) juxtapose?
interpolate? i.e. a = b = c = d
                    the latter option seems more viable...
i don't like cascading narratives...
for me there's no river of narration: there's the wrathful
sea of narration... water comes all at once: water doesn't
flow: it bashes and sieges the land: esp. the lands
of islands... water, water everywhere:
and not a drop to drink... i'm not going to quote
the poet who wrote those lines...
i'll treat this as a puzzle-box... being a huge fan of
the Hellraiser "franchise" it would be wrong not to...
puzzles... i imagine that if i were good at crosswords
i wouldn't be able to write so fluidly...
i prefer misnomers to synonyms: but that's just me...

when will i begin?! i'm tired of explaining myself...
it will come of its own accord...

ah! first things first...
    QUEEN and KING...
                          so i'm guessing that when the next
international matches are played and
the national anthem is sang... it won't be women singing:
but men... for the simple reason that
women can allocate a higher pitch to:
how does the word queen look like, when sung
by a professional?
                      god save the: queēn!
                                i would have applied the acute diacritical
marker, i.e. queén...
i'd agree with either since the crescendo of the anthem
comes with the last word: either queen of king...
in the case of queen: que-eeeeeeeeeeeeee(n)
the N is there: but the fact that the vowel extended
takes so much breath away... the singer of the anthem
might as well treat the N as an apostrophe
i.e. quee'                    and only women can reach that
pitch of song...
it's a lot different with KING...
          god save the: kíng vs. kīng... since?
well... you need a baritone to sing the word king to
a prolonged crescendo... kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing
    and like the N on the end of quee-n
                              the -ng are meshed: strangely...
but not so strangely...
              i KONG KY crystals...
  (that's KY of: IGREK: a hollowed out y-why,
KY not KI not KE not cat not queue: not question
of qwhestion, that would be a Welsh spelling)...

the day started well enough, the manicurist / pedicurist
was supposed to come a day prior
to sort of mother's nails out... she was was supposed
to come with her baby daughter a day earlier,
it was supposed to be a Wednesday...
apparently the little rascal was giving her trouble
when she tried to attend to other customers:
she would ignore her mother's work,
she would hang around her mother... pull her trousers
(or t-shirt) making it near impossible for her mother
to do her work: even on that fateful day, that was
a a Thursday, she was sceptical about whether she would
be able to do both my mother's hands and legs...

now, i imagine that having children of my own would
decrease my hormonal level of testosterone
(talk about a Chemical Circus, psychiatrists still talk
on chemical grounds when it comes to psychiatric
disorders: the ancient "chemical imbalance" in the brain...
these supposed "atheists" don't even acknowledge
the fact tat the "soul" is chemistry-free,
there's no chemical imbalance: but they still pump
the sufferer of "said" ailment with an approach
that's post-experimental, i.e. a failure) -
no one talks about a hormonal imbalance...
me + children? i'm fine with that: as long as they're not
my own... with the children of strangers i get to
keep my Abrahamic integrity: i invest in the moment
rather than some concern for lineage:
what matters is the child in the moment i'm sharing
the moment with it...

so? i knew there was only one approach for the girl's mother
to do her job... do both hands and feet...
i needed to exhaust the child...
last time i saw her she wasn't walking: she wasn't speaking...
this time i upped my approach to the tender
"fat-thumb"... i put on Disney's Alice in Wonderland...
a somewhat distraction... then? i watched
as she found it fascinating to play with my cats' toys...
ugh: my cats have become terribly existential,
they are no longer fascinated by toys...
they're more fascinated with what i'm fascinated:
i.e. peering at "nothing": staging a coup of "nothingness",
a coup of "nothingness" and of space and of time...
but this BOBAS (the ****** equivalent of the Italian
BAMBINO) took to the cats' toys...

at first she was throwing the toys in the air,
while i was catching them...
each time i didn't catch the toy / ball i heard
the angels sing: no... i didn't: the time i heard angels
(descending?) sing (ascending?) i was terrified...
i just heard the honey trickle of a child giggling...
at first she was shy... pointing out that i had a beard...
she liked my beard... last time she was tugging on it
trying to conjure up a teddy-bear from it...
i like women who have an insatiable urge to pull
on my beard...
but that was the last time i saw Malvina...
this time round she was throwing cats' ***** into
the air and i was catching them... snap-reflexes...
i missed one or two throws: i pretended to juggle...
she giggled and ran back to her mother
to express her joy: this man is playing with me...

man: not boy...
we did that for a while... later we moved to a different
game... we were throwing ***** up the stairs
and watching the ***** roll back down...
then? we sat at the (insert the proper noun,
it's not a table) and i taught her the "art" of spinning
the *****... then i "taught" her the "art" of:
you know... ***** can be thrown... but they
can also be rolled... so we were playing a game
of rolling the *****... rather than throwing them...
the expressions on her face were so intense...
i couldn't ask her why: unlike the prostitutes
in the brothel when asking me: why is your stare
so intense?! WHY NOT?!
you want me to talk?! i'm not bringing our nakedness
into the equation: i'm not going to talk
when we're naked! we talk as if blind people
seeing Braille rather than touching it!

i was just about to offer her some makeshift
Black Forest Gateaux sponge of a "muffin" when
her mother looked up, the little, dearest babe climbed
into a cocoon of pillows and started indicating that:
there has been enough excitement worth of a day's
worth of today... she snuggled up in that cocoon
of pillows... picked up her "smoochie": sucker?
and started giving me the lazy eyes...
i picked up a cover and laid it across her...
the light from living-room was glaring...
i joked: maybe if i put these (here) sunglasses
on your pretty petite visage will you fall asleep?
she managed the joke for about 10 minutes
before pulling them from her face...and... naturally...
as any child exhausted by play could: COULD tell you...
play is exhausting: esp. when playing with someone
who's experimenting on you psychologically...
from throwing *****, to spinning *****...
to rolling *****...
she couldn't have cared to *****' worth of what was
Alice in Wonderland about...

i don't think i will ever forget those cheeky ******
expressions... akin to: we were rolling the *****
across from each other (pretend chess)...
one ball went missing... i was lazy enough to keep
it missing... she grunted: protested!
exactly! we were playing with three *****!
i had to retract my "misguidance"...
well... if she wanted to change of stamina from
throwing them and me catching them...
to now rolling them... we needed all three!
when we were throwing the ***** up the stairs...
what a clever little creature...
she had her favourite coloured ball...
she was throwing a purple ball...
i had to throw the orange coloured ball...
she shared the "adventure"... the game...
but it had to be so... her consciousness already
recognised anti-ghosts of both form and colour...

why would i be bitter?
wouldn't i want children? me and the children
of strangers... sure as **** i wouldn't be trying to teach
them any "pronoun muddles" of the muddy waters
of: if the old COMMUNISTS came in contact with
the "communists of the west"? they'd be GULAG FEED...
some people become fathers and mothers
and are underserving of such roles...
people like me never became fathers simply because:
the would-be mothers are undeserving to
have children that could be fathered by people like me...
it's a calculated truth...
how much ******* money do you need
before the money is only earned in order
to be ****** away by a woman?!
i earn enough to keep myself content!
once a single man reaches this zenith: it's hardly worthwhile
to sink to a nadir of expenditure...
you can always find some stranger's baby to babysit...
then again: not always...
i'm just lucky that i have found my Bambino....

at some point some journalistic Da-Sein started trickling
in: into the household while i was entertaining
a baby: who finally managed to become lullabied
to a sleep that lasted well over one, and half an hour,
even my mother exclaimed: how did you manage it?!
i just replied: i was just being myself...

the news came along the lines of: she sovereign
is peaceful, she's gladly on her "death bed"...
no mention of "death" though...
but when the news increased in detail:
the whole family was to be made full attendance of:
(what poet ever wrote about the death
of Julius Caesar? no one... all of a "sudden":
then, ****! like the "hidden" emergence of the smoke
of history from the fire that was, the man
who uttered the word: alea iacta est -
none on the day of the event... most poets were
busy with their "poetic" *******...
few were scheming the full depth of womanhood,
from baby, to queen and to a *****)

i finally uttered my fiery tongue:
i will give her until tomorrow...
i even said: i hope he suffers the anti-illness of death
prior to the match starting, the match i'm working
a shift on...
she has until tomorrow to back her bag of bones
and flesh and her detailed imprint on the psyche...
until tomorrow: but i'm hopeful too:
that the match will be cancelled...
alas!
  i went to the shift: there was a buzzword in the winds
congregating around the Coliseum:
but the buzzword wasn't either Elizabeth or Queen...
for the first time i experienced the conquest
of veneer: which came days later...
because on the day? i was injected
with an anaesthetic of: what the public is all about...

sure... it looks pretty: "just about now": the veneer
of a caring people... hmm! "caring"...
i pledged two promises in my lifetime, in secret...
the first to Jeff Hanneman: when i was attempting to
grow my hair long in high-school...
before the poster of the band Slayer: i pledged:
i will grow my hair long...
and i did... i remember being fat, un-liked:
a complete nerd: a goof in high-school...
prior to one summer with my grandfather...
shedding weight... growing my hair long...
i was invisible to the girls in the school...

    then one summer i had enough length in my hair
to tie a pony tail... lost enough of weight...
wow! i suddenly became "visible" to the girls...
i paid no attention... i ended up dating the new-comer
Aussie chick... the most popular girl in school...
sure... it took us over a year of friendly courting
me taking her on one of the most glorious dates:
gallery, cinema, restaurant: i paid for all of it...
when *** was *** and man was man
and woman was woman...
all the girls that ignored me prior
were facing an abomination:
a boy with a French braid hair-do...
                        i had this one mantra in my mind:
well! if you didn't show me any interest prior?
why should i show you ny interest now?!

i'm still living in the: REITERATION period
of my life... i still have about 10 years left...
i can wreck a lot of havoc in those ten years waiting
for me... and i will... i will...
i'll **** all the prostitutes in one brothel before having
to move onto the next brothel... and when i ****
all the prostitutes in that second brothel:
i'll move onto the third! and so on, and so on...
all the while enjoying babysitting children
and listening to Crusader song...

i am: done... playing "nice"... nice is no quest for me...
for the stern heart of stone and an arm
cast(e) from an iron grip...

it was all a veneer though... if you attended the football
match between West Ham and that team from Bucharest...
you would have known that: the public?
paid no respect to the passing sovereign:
the football match was more important!
animals! ******* animals!

something else...
                  prior: much prior...
it amazed me... i asked the management team:
so... the usual per se of the football match advent will
be obstructed? when the Coliseum started playing
Debussy and Sartre... i knew...
we opened the gates for the public at 18:30 the supposed
hour of her passing...
so the match would have to go on...

i pledged her a secret allegiance...
i will not succumb to my suicidal thinking until
you die... me?! i want to earn and spend
banknotes with your son's visage on them!
i'm going to outlive you: you HAG!
i had to! i promised Jeff Hanneman my long hair...
i promised ol' Lizzie my life!
i have kept my promise:
i'm alive... she's "now" dead...
thankfully i didn't make such promises on
a promise she might have known of...
i made these promise "unto" her:
but? mostly unto myself...

if the people of England who witnessed the spectacle could
have witnessed the fans of West Ham
on the day of the passing...
they weren't the usual season ticket holders...
absolute animals: paupers! serf! ******* imbeciles!
i spotted one usual season ticket holder
among them: rabble...
we hugged... but the others?! ****-soaked jeans...
oh, **** me: your queen just died
and you're still here chanting for your
football team?! you, *******, PEASANTS!

give me a ******* OAR! give me a ******* KITE!
you, ******* ZOMBIES!
that's why i was given an anaesthetic...
i was given one... at one point
i was telling this ******* TURNIP... this...
BEETROOT of a "man":
you swear at me, one more (*******) time...
and i'll have to ejected!
not today, "mate"... you don't get that (*******)
luxury...

sure... sure... as if people ever cared...
i was bitten by a "tarantula" watching the public
reaction: absolutely no reaction...

the light of the moon is closest to the "heart"
of the shadow come the time of the harvest of the seasons:
come Autumn and the time of Winter:
the brightest shadows are cast upon this
glory of earth...

i was due a proper celebration...
i had to summon a libido of grief...
from a shift at the London Stadium i had to make my way
back into Essex
and visit a brothel: i wasn't expecting to wait for
an hour though: although an hour i waited...
i entertained the Madame
with some Red Hot Chili Peppers....
apparently i have a good taste in music...

brothel, the usual ****?
i'm not going to go into any details:
Duke of Sussex has me covered...
the whinging ginger **** that he is...
BALDY-BALSO!...
ooh! slapper-'ed!
    
    of course i went to the brothel!
i had my **** ****** akin to being
circumcised! i "thought":
now's the time for three-*******'s worth of
feels!
i waited for an hour...
once the hour was "gone"
an Afghan "Jamie" emerged with
a pocket full of marijuana...
i started sniffing the bud like a dog...

oomph: oomph!
what sweetness of an Afghan..
who isn't selling you cut-off ******* of
Jamaican *******...
you just know:
an Afghan sells you marihuana...
he's also selling you poppy milk...
but at least he's not selling you:
******* SAWDUST...
fibreglass from the Vietnamese cookie-cutters...
i got home and drank a little more...
then rolled my a fatty... smoked it in the garden...
and: as usual, the mixture of alcohol and marijuana
hit me like a falling mountain...
the last time i smoked was... ooh...
well over 10 years ago...
  and i'm saying: if an Afghan brings you marihuana:
or rather...
i had to waited for that ****** hour while
all the girls were busy...
i asked the Madame if i could go out for a cigarette...
standing outside: for me, standing casually outside
a brothel is like me standing casually outside a pub...
aha! here we go! one scuttling rat...
i saw him trying to leave in the corner of my eye...
i saw him open the entrance door and then
cower and go back in...
                  English, obviously:
those Victorian "sentiments" concerning sexuality
are: ******* prosaic on someone born
on the continent... i was going to say: hey, mate...
don't be coy, alright? you're not a woman...
i think what put him off was that as he was leaving
the brothel he heard my choice of music
blasting in the waiting room...
he must have been like: "what?! no Romanian
giddy / ****** pop-rap?! who put this music on?!"
he finally made it out in one piece or another...
trying to avert me gazing at him...

oh! such shame! such shame! such terrible shame!
i walked back in and that's when i met
my Afghan "Jamie"... weird name for an Afghan,
isn't it? i thought... long hair... the complete ******
look...
i'm telling "you": if an Afghan offers you marihuana?
you ******* take it...
Afghans are not Jamaicans or any of those little
Vietnamese ****** that mix fibreglass with the "herb"...
the last time i smoked marijuana this good
i was smoking it in Amsterdam...
i was slightly drunk: sexually emptied / satisfied...
the queen just died... i had to...

lo and behold! no paranoia! nothing!
all the best grooves... i was falling asleep in a transcendent
cocoon of my own self:
grinning that creature in Apex Twin's video:
Window-Licker (nice term, for a ******)...
when i was younger i would use the cognitive-whirlwind
in my head to write something:
i'm older, a bit less stupid... i was like:
oh no no... no writing... i'm taking to the "surf":
i'm going to be grinning like a crying clown all the way
to the land of Nod...

i gave the Afghan my number, he couldn't remember his...
he promised that if i met him again:
he would introduce me to Afghan hash...
he still hasn't called...
i'm thinking: if i go back to the brothel, again...
i'll leave my number with the Madame and tell her:
when Afghan "Jamie" shows up, can you please
tell him to give me a call?
he gave me two buds... again: that's another aphrodisiac:
marijuana... but it's an aphrodisiac in reverse...
it perpetuates the ****** encounter:
it elevates thinking about *** along the lines
of daughter, mother, grandmother...
    sister... wife, *******...

on this very day i experienced every possible
category of woman...
**** me: add queen to that list...
                                so the Afghan was waiting for
his friend... they paid by hours... me?
i figured out the brothel after earning my money:
half an hour slots...
i'm not here to see a priest or a psychiatrist...
although i didn't see the former: i've seen enough
of the latter to know the ******* slapping tease it "feels"
like to talk your problems out
rather than doing the utmost sensible thing of:
thinking yourself out...

how did i combat my "schizophrenic" symptoms...
bilingualism! ha ha!
i stopped thinking in narrative-English altogether...
my cognitive-narrative ability has been long ago ******...
i'm a shrapnel-shadow of my former self...
when everything seemed "solipsistic" and in a rigid-linear
form...
mind you: they diagnosed me as such...
but did i ever step foot into an asylum?
not, that, i, know of...
        i did see a lot of medical students though...
the psychiatrists asked if it would be o.k. for them to
scrutinise me as part of their training:
sure, no problem!
    that's the funny thing about going mad...
you can only go mad once...
the second time madness approaches you:
  you're already riding the death spider into a cobweb
of: like a tired man falls into his bed...
i started falling into a comfort of wearing armour...
that i myself crafted under the guidance of
Hephaestus...

  monotheism and globalism: two inseperable concepts
known to man... and both: terrible for all men...
come to think of it... monotheism = globalism...
i sometimes wish i knew more about the Slavic gods...
but i guess the Greek deities and the deities of the Norse
men will suffice... at least with this trend of thought:
there's less concern for the self as atom and pivotal
for everything that's otherwise decided by luck,
fate, karma... no... the western thinking concerning
the individuation process of establishing the self
as the pinnacle has reached a cul de sac... a dead end...

it's time to return to the old order of things...
i can't be stuck in the monotheism of: mea culpa this
mea culpa that...
this idolatrous self-centrism and self-critique:
i know when i'm wrong... i'll apologise:
but certain "things" are beyond my control!
and for "things" to be beyond my control?
there can't just be one god with a plethora of names
of noun-adjectives:
what do most people complain about in terms
of politics and organisation? esp. in America?
local government vs. the centralised federal politics...
it's the same with theology...
i almost wish there was a politicology...
but there isn't... there isn't...

oh sure... sure... monotheism is grand...
just this "one god" that's the (+) magnet for all these
(-) selves... my self, your self: in the reflective form...
myself and yourself in the reflexive form...
only recently i managed to witness the shift
in the earth's trajectory: it tilted...
that... the URSA MAJOR = URSA MINOR...
it's the same ****** constellation!
the earth moves from summery seasons
into the wintry seasons... it, *******: TILTS!

it's the same constellation! during the summery months
we witness the microscopic detail of the constellation...
in the wintry months when the north is tilted back:
we see the same constellation: on a macroscopic detail:
it's one and the same!
there are not two apart... well... from where i'm standing:
believable by the naked eye... that's what it looks like...

unless light can turn ******* corners...
i'm going to be fixated on that...
or that there are "corners" concerning floating
orbs in silence to begin with!
Little Bear during Autumn and Winter...
and Mother "big" Bear during Spring and Summer...
i thought that was ****** obvious!
no? what am i? another ******* Copernicus?!
****... ****! oh ****: i have no telescope... ****** it all
to hell!

i do have this one query... see... i sometimes play
a game with my eyes... i stress my hawkish eyesight
on something close to me...
do you know that we have these strange parasites
living on our eyes?!
oh... they're microscopic... i can see them...
i'm not talking about:
  the eqalussuaq and the ommatokoita... well... i sort of am...
yeah... they're like ribbons of procreative jelly...
winding and swirling... i can see them with my eyes...
on my ******* eyes: can you imagine?
i'm looking at someone that's on my eyes:
microscopic... i must be out there: no wonder
i haven't touched any psychedelic drugs, yet...
when dementia kicks in: please! dementia! kick in!
i want a mushroom to hijack my gorilla brain!
              
mein gott: if i had children of my own...
what horrible monsters i would have to create...
but i have no time:
i'm forever enthralled by the 1980s post-punk
music scene... Depeche Mode and the Cure
were just the tip of the ice-berg...
recently? i came across Blue Kremlin... the song:
fallbeil... i was sort of aware of the genre:
i could never do much with either punk
or rap music...
who was that protagonist of spreading the knowledge
of music to people? Sam Peele, Tim Peele?
John... i sometimes feel like i'm the audience
of one... i hate listening to the radio:
the reasons are obvious: i like to sieve through music
of my own accord:
i switch off whenever i hear music curated for: not me...
no wonder i'm using facebook at a back-catalogue
of music i listened to...
diary entry no. "x": i was actually looking
for this song...

Musta Paraati: Romanssi...
              my bookmarks failed me... i need to employ
at least two sets of bookmarks...
then i move onto the next band...
if i had children of my own? i don't think i'd have
the time to sift through all the music:
democracy is painful...
it would sometimes feel so much easier to follow
one "line of letters": to only have knowledge
of the Quran... to abolish music...
it would last longer...
i'd be the one with a wife and children
and cultural responsibilities...
instead? i'm? hardly lamenting...
the one without a piggy-bank of expenditure...
ever heard of a penny-rattle-inside-a-piggy-bank /
a lean pig?! life's not getting any better:
life has reached a plateau...

for sure: the children of strangers with me
playing the role of the "weird" uncle:
i'm just distant... even though the queen died...
what game me sanity was: thinking about
playing with Malvina...
throwing *****: rolling *****...
oh: and of course: the brothel...
i just couldn't believe how veneer prone the whole
affair was...
these, *******... would still, rather:
sing the "anthem" of their local football team...
than sing: what ought to have been sung:
god save the king, instead?
they sand god save the queen!
the queen is dead! "was": is!

i was given a dose of the anaesthesia that only crowds:
unruly crowds can provide...
  i was even asked by one of the managers to
not "drool" with a sombre expression on my face...
with my eyes i told him to *******...
maybe it has no consequence for a people
lifted from the squalor of western Africa
now living their dreams in the Caribbean...
but **** me... some of these places were
not colonies: they were obliged to be: protectorate(s)...
they were under the obligation of the British
Empire to continue their ways:
they weren't colonies... they didn't have
a colony status: they had a protected status...

who was robbed? Africans sold African into slavery...
the chief of X-tribe realised: wow! i have too many young,
strong, retards in my tribe...
i want this amount of women in my harem...
might as well catch them and sell them off!
it's not like the Africans ended up doing the Slavic-******
jobs of coalmining...
seems rather glamorous: moving from cotton-picking
to playing basketball / inventing jazz as a breakaway
from classical music straitjackets...

bemoan my hernia when i was born: i will:
but not this... funny that... all those first prized black
supremacists bemoaned: the **** of our women!
the **** of our women!
i've seen how certain black women raise their kids:
it's ******* ugly... why black men fall back on white
women... me too (#): black men have nice features...
i'm not surprised why white girls fall for black men...
i have no issue:

but there's a "Russian" in me that will not be cucked...
so if white girls find black men so attractive...
am i? supposed to follow suite?! i.e. find black
girls attractive?! i... SIMPLY ******* CAN'T!
at work we were queuing up and i was just slightly
brushing up against this black woman ahead of me:
i was being bushed from the back...
she had so much defensive armour about her
i felt like a Saracen archer talking to a Frankish knight...

me?! touching you?!
god forbid i ever touch you! i don't want to touch you!
i hope you don't touch me?!
how am i touching you?! i showed her the distance
between our bodies and exposed both hands
holding ****...
i don't give a ****'s two uncle's spare of white
girls "breaking boundaries" of crafting the second
non-Hispanic "Brazil":
as long as they're not Russian girls:

this is going to be an anti-racist statement...
i feel gladdened seeing a black man with a black woman
having black babies...
why is this an anti-racist statement?
because it doesn't force the RACISM of INTERRACIALISM...
of blurring the whole origin and perpetuation
of race to begin with...
sure... white girls can have a thing for black guys...
but as a white guy... i don't have a "thing" for
black girls...
Turkish? Iranian? Arabic in general?

anything with raven hair and olive skin...
once in a while i pass the passage from Ilford to
Stratford... some Pakistani simpleton feels this
dire desire to spit on the pavement...
******* toad of a creature: hopefully not insulting
the toad: the "conqueror": what a necessary belitteling
of a man... i do understand cyclists harking
spit when becoming exhausted:
but for the simple circumstance of a ****- seeing
a white man "invade" his cultural membrane whittle
"Mecca": it's like rereading Dostoyevsky's Notes
from the Underground in reverse...
little people: little things...
              
              little concerns for me to begin with...

between the dictate of segregation:
all the Pakistanis occupy the lands between the A406
from Ilford through to Stratford...
Tower Hamlets...
all the "better" Indian subcontinent folk moved
to the outer regions of urbanisation...
from Ilford all the way through to Romford
we have the Sikhs and the Hindus...
at work? i'm a minority white boyo...
ha ha... "talk" of minority status:
who the **** ever said i'm English?!
perhaps in Chelmsford: but even there
i would have been asked about my "accent":
and i would probably reply like that one comedian
at the Edinburgh comedy club: you maybe have noticed
that i have an accent... yes:
it's ED-U-CAY-TED... educated...

it's a generic accent: standard English:
not localised English...
i can become a mean: pompous *******
when i hear enough pompous ******* *******
from people who "think" they are worth more than me
without any basis for receiving the required
credit in making: said assumptions...

rancid Berlin!

only one's missing: the one with glasses...
afer her: i will have ****** the whole brothel...
and still i'm not satisfied!
i'll need to find a new brothel!
**** me: that was, slightly, unexpected!

the queen is dead! long live the king!
i have no time for pardons...
the wilting flowers is ever a prescription for
spotting a wilt of tree (a),

it takes me about 2 hours to drink a bottle of wine
in the form of kalimotxo by myself...
2 hours while i watch a bat fly around
chasing moth tapas...
2 hours from around 9pm through to 11pm...
before i finally relax and open a second
bottle... if i push it through to 2am
and wake up at 9am... well... problem solved...
whatever the "problem" might me...
an irksome memory most probably...
a past girlfriend... Siberian... hardly any
Mongol ethnicity in her...
but still all the more crazy...
apartment in St. Petersburg etc. etc.
the best *** i ever had...
until... the best *** i ever had was
with a Turkish *******...
so... that chapter is sort of done...
hang-up from the age of 21... now that i'm
35...
well... sort of wow... 14 years...
not bad...
                but i can at least find relief in not
being ****-hurt about not getting any...
on a spectrum:
the alpha the beta and... mr omega man...
how i'd love to own a dog...
but taking it to a public place to ****
and then have to bag that **** and dispose
of it... and i've seen them!
those dog-walkers...
even in the advent of facemasks and hand-sanitizers...
did the dog walkers use hand-sanitizers picking
up that hot-dog-of-a-****?
no... sure... it's through plastic:
double-sure Irish revelations concerning
the ******...
put it's one thing sticking your whittle itch'ard
into a mouth of floral batters and
oyster digestive juices...
and picking up a dog's hot loaf...

oh sure... for the love of looking into
a dog's eyes and seeing all
that b.d.s.m. playing out...
                   i suppose dogs are great when
growing up...
but once you age...
you find miracles in little things
like... your cat deciding: no...
i'll take a **** in the neighbour's garden...
am i to... arm it with a c.c.t.v. camera
so i might know... where he... did the deed?

rain of pigeon ****...
if Warsaw is a city known for the happiness
of pigeons and parking-meters...
i guess London already knew about that...

- because all the world is filled with
a grift for defocusing narratives...
because: you can never experience thinking within
the confines of a unifying narrative...
a narrative of focus...
from the many: unto none...
or... from the one: to the few...
that's why i better believe
the astronauts of text, memes...
the advertisers... because... poets are paid
peanut while "journalists" are
being paid: a wage-gap...

on a Saturday... on  Sunday...
taking the knee: it's absurd... since you're not
taking both of them...
like one might at a Catholic mass...
but beside that...
some reverse psychology at work:
"taking the knee"...
   em... didn't Derek Chauvin take the knee?
you're taking the knee?
i'm taking the knee...
here's my knee-cap...
you're taking the knee?
Derek Chauvin took the knee...
apparently he "took the knee"
to the point of... suffocating a man...
hell! let's all take the knee:
let's take too!

how about i lie face down and imitate
crucifixion: how about not ******* off
some ethnic **** - because all
the white english girls are hell-bent of proving
us wigs perfumed: pampered in
baby-powder as being anti-racist:

racial equality? hmm...
i'd love to see it in two instances...
on a 100m sprint event
at the Olympics...
and... also at the Olympics...
at a 100m sprint event in the pool...
i'd love to see a white man win the 100m sprint...
perhaps i'd also love to see a black man
swim... just swim...
for all the racism in h'america:
no wonder: if you band-up together
and call yourself african-american:
but you have no idea what
Zulu warlord sold your for:
clearly a fair-game of exchange of goods:
a TRADE...
it's not like these... David physique European
wimp lords managed to chase and
chain the Goliaths of Africa...
i look at them now...
walking freely in the prospects of Europe
and think to myself: how the ****?!

don't give me that **** that a limp biscuit
cuck armed with some iron pebbles
and some fire ***** shot from a rifle
could overcome...
a zealot barbarian wielding a tomahawk...
if half of the african-americans knew
their heritage:
if you'd identity me as Russian i'd take
offence...
some Arab pushing me Quran
on Edgware Rd thinking i'm German
while having a mulatto indian-anglo-saxon-celtic
girlfriend... i don't mind...
mistake me for a Serb...
hell... mistake me for a Dane...
but don't mistake me for a ******* Russian
or a(n) Ukrainian...
we might all be white...
but i'm pretty sure money dries up pretty soon...
what... Maurice... no... it wasn't Maurice...
Malcolm X... no... i'm pretty sure
it wasn't him...
oh you know... pan-Africanism...
like pan-Slavism was a thing...
Marcus Garvey...

       exodus back to Africa... like hell the Jamaicans
were going to give up Jamaica... ha... ha ha...
slavery in Russia and just nibbling on some
vantage point of the east:
it must feel... satisfying to known that
a foreign entity might have enslaved
"you"... beside the people of shared heritage...
what with whatever serfdom was...
hardly a matter for deciphering
cobbler professionalism...
a man as limb: limb the extension of
some other's peruse of... unforgivable pleasures...

i still make a killer of a mango curry...
thanks for the recipe...
i'll see you in New Delhi... perhaps... never...
i have to: come at "it" full throttle...
it's an agitating prospect seeing
zombie-esque drone partying up slogan
chatterers...
i'd be willing to break my jaw...
and my nose... just to hear them shut up...
i'll sooner **** on a kidney bean
seed and watch Jack imitate Jacob's ladder
than... whatever is left with: that than...

no wonder... the 2nd bottle of wine will be drunk
in under 2 hours... i'll fully lubricated...
relaxed enough to spew...
if only race was as fluid as ethnicity is
absent in the case of Brazil...
or for that matter...
all of south america: with the exception of
Argentina i suppose...
why? hiding ageing Nazis...
it's not like Joseph Mengele ever faced a firing
squad...  or hanging...
well... what he did face was...
having a brain haemorrhage while
taking a dip in a swimming pool...
i guess you might call that: double-drowning...
the gods really invested themselves
in that death...

oh i can imagine the.... breaking of the bones
while still revelling in doing
a puppet show... as the ****** drowned...
he'll be dearly remembered... just for that...
my "tale" is hardly tall...
but... if you haven't been involved:
the currency of duping manhood
with a pharmacological cocktail of...
chemo-soup: to match up to the brain
being all fat and: the proteins are ****** at...
only and only at the proper release point
of invitation: via Alzheimer's...
that's when brain tows... muscle! ugh!
killer proteins that solidify liquid fat
of oil into: curd-esque cheese clusters...
wonderful ingenuity... who might need
a ******* insect parasite...

why not turn to dieting?
women diet a lot...
i don't know: well: i do...
i rather burn off the calories than hide them...
women can diet all they want...
i tried it once...
out of sympathy for the cult she joined...
i lasted for about 12 hours...
it was already too much that
i drank my coffee black without
any sugar...
give me the ******* plough!
let me exhort and exalt the body...
i don't need to diet: to feel this creeping sensation
of a thousand non-existence "things"
nibbling at my fat reserves...

it's bad enough already: than seeing this pan-African
movement and...
it's like me visiting Kenya: visiting the macaques
feeding them sachets of sugar and tea
trying to escape the sun:
feeding the shade on a balcony wasn't enough:
some Muhammad with a crocodile farm
while his daughter: clad in a niqab swimsuit...
sure... "racial equality":
me... porky skinned:
in the full glare of equatorial sun...
i'm hoping for a rash...
come the night and the ivory beauties...
with skin as molten coffee mingling with
chocolate... buttered up...
smoking marijuana... i can only imagine
the brothels of Mombasa...

race is one thing: ethnicity: another...
but then again:
i'm pretty sure the african-americans
in their "congregation" of southern-Baptists
can't tell a hammer from a sickle
from a ******* horseshoe when it comes
to the ancient disparities between...
Nigerians and Kenyans...
just like whites are supposed to...
call me a ******* Russian one more time...
German? eh... the historical relevance of
the Wends... i won't mind...

the Hebrews... oddly enough: they're not a race...
they're an ethnicity...
you can mistake an 'ebrew for a European...
or a Mediterranean olive skinned:
somehow pseud-Greek... somehow pseudo-Roman:
st. Augustine.. Tunisian in disguise?
the race of the Baltic Sea people...
tell them they're all expected to eat
Baltic sushi: or raw-herring in a creamy dill sauce!

the world came knocking at my door...
my peace... mein nacht...
2 hours spent drinking a bottle of wine in comfort
with the wind caressing the tree...
like my hands weaving the nakedness of a *******'s
body... each groove where the flesh and muscle
"weakened": where the bones were left:
exposed... at the knees...
at the elbows... the collar-bone...

someone of a continental persuasion will tell you:
don't guillotine the head
of the beer...
in England you're expected to be cheated
when drinking a pint without a beer's head...
the foam...
i too want the beer's head moustache...
unless you're drinking Guinness...

if all these african-h'americans had a quencch
of "thrist" knowing they were...
said X... or said Y...
money is worth as much as tomorrow allows...
to spend it: rather than invest with...
personally i'd like to know the name
of the warlord that traded our limbs
for the precious stones...
then again: it's not like picking cotton
was anything akin to mining coal...
so... what?

now all this propaganda by the:
i hate them... they're ha-ite...
why why... urban liberal anti-racists...
i hate anti-racists... they have no knowledge
of metaphors... or for descriptive language
to begin with: their knowledge of physiognomy is
half-wit short of Picasso's impressions
of how: Africans see their faces
without the use of mirrors...
how they see themselves in masks...

to hell with your ******* "ally": too!
i'm looking at the most degenerate of my supposed:
degenerate of the specimen...
such... classy... high primed:
individuation: quotients...

- who hurt you? oh babe... who hurt you?!
- baby... i think i hurt myself...
years later i noticed she was still hung-up
on that one morbid swan of the highest kept
expectation: widow Zeus...
at Loch Lomond...
thank god for that Turkish *******:
she finally gave me an inkling into
how to tell apart: limp from limb...
toe from tongue...
i wouldn't want some... pigtailed
imitation schoolgirl dream, either...

give me the proper *****: the armchair...
the respectable: glass of wine that i might sip
and there would be... rivers of it... working their way
into my beard and down my neck... onto my chest...
give me... the thirst never to be quenched!
cheap romance novels for girls...
newly knighted phantoms compensated with:
***-mad dogs readied to be relieved of
being broke by: a leash of
sacrificial mundanity!

ask a girl twice... Thai: not a "surprise": an authentic Thai
bride... so no ****-in-a-lacklustre...
what the colour of my eyes were...
this is still biology class...
in high-school... that's before i shunned a tonne
of weight...
she didn't guess... grey? blue...
oddly enough: they're still grizzly... GREEN...

- as i write this... from a consensus agreement:
the ****-boys can have all their
shifting harem-caurosel all they want:
and eager have...
you have to cycle a while to spot all
the flavours of solipsism:
the empowered women alone in their cars
singing along to songs no one
wants to hear: my heart overflows to drift
into a quasi-sympathy... for a millisecond...
before i'm reminded of something
by a shadow cast by a a tree...

i want to return to a grave that's best
pleasing the colour of my Iris...
the world keeps knocking at my door...
however real or however metaphorical...
i'm not answering...
it's all... pretty much... custard...
thick splodges of it ruining the concern i have
for pin-pointing the knife
at the focal posits
of where to best insert a knife:
since... simply shooting myself
in the head with a shotgun is generally
agreed upon at, as:
a ******* bad idea...

     i wouldn't dare... or even convene myself
to later somehow, bother...
**** the ethno-masochism of english girls...
not that i am in any ways "welcome"...
if they're going through that:
**** a black guy phase...
  thank god i don't earn enough
to keep one "happy"...
thank god for a many a great a number of "things"...
Turkic women: who's hair as black as it is...
raven black teasing blue...
blooming blue teasing at...

i'm heading to a "somewhere" from where
the Mongolian breath arrived at: arrived at to begin
it's.... original migration and: receding culminated with...
i don't need these blonde anglo-saxon wash-ups of
mythology... to hell with Helen!
last time i heard: she only fakes not enjoying what
later: becomes apparent...
i'm not saying she's implicitly gagging for it...
but she she's not...

she's not exactly toying with the ascetics...
she's having *** as an aesthetic...
she's always having more fun:
even in the process...
she's mediating the third-person voyeurism
more than the person she is having ******* with...
it's hardly a person by then... piston works?!
piston works... ergo: piston works!

i can't compete with her already achieved experience...
i could only come around finding...
someone more experienced:
a nymphomaniac *******:
someone who could spell it out to ne
directly: i would be taking the back-seat....
i'd have my arms amputated when
she performed her oyster-*******-trick,,,

coming in at £2 per minute...
oh sure... hear me bemoan all the injustices of
the trade... when... there are some....
on only-fans... not filling to touch!
i squint my eyes...
i squint my eyes even more...
i'm left with ******* a lemon...

                 what?

i'm a light: seeker:
not a light giver:
i'm not illuminating
i am: the negation of what:
well if pride is a junction
to give renegades a purpose
to exalt
a former stature of...

disbelief: questioning:
the self and the "self"
is not, "something":
question-worthy:
there is no question-worthiness
encompassing the self:
the self is a fleeting:
matter of fact no fact some
matter of concern...

i eat light:
i seek it:
i will ensure that stars behave
antagonistically
and not by constellation
rigid concern:
i will have renegade stars
transverse the sky
and make me believe that:
well... a flat earth...
a "flat earth" is better for
nautical geography reading:
of: by sail and oar and ship
somewhere: in the in-between...

lazy *** African chimps
sexed up
and the crazy whitey i really have
no concern for progeny...
besides:
all these choir boys have
crescendo ******* but no *****
while i'm all baritone
with a **** and no *****...
so: guess the Judas and the Gambit...

i just watch these generic ethnic exchanges...
botox lips and blah
like toddlers are generic: looking:
old people are generic: looking:
Barbie doll imitation: generic: looking...
for a moment i almost
found the allure of finding love
something desired not inhibited
given the animation of cinema
with the film: ABOUT TIME (2013)...

but then i'm sniffing at my mother and father
enjoying Tequila and watching:
ZNACHOR: the quack: of no relevance
to geese: or goosestepping...
but the beak of an eagle
beside the point...
    KNIADŹ...

                    this love affair of: well hey presto
i'm about to meet a vampire of a girlfriend
at an art gallery with her grandmother
to play the matchmaker:
what was that?
you in a summer dress: Wickert?
no... Sickert...
             like no: how one does one do of / for
me or for either: you?

to no recurring theme:
audacity of words my own  ocnjuring
unlike a sobering Kantian reminder
that before
god and nothing there
was the instilled fake 1 + 1 = 2...
because:
hmm...
I + I = Z

     a priori analytical: not synthetic?
mathematics
so obficulating:
             obfisculating:
apparently i paint walls and telepathically
shift furniture:
high as a kite:
i smoke 3.5 grams over a month
while all the Jamaicans Mamas smoke that much
in a day...
lucky, *******, me...

1 + 1 = 2
so addition is the equivalent of
compounding nouns
while verbs are best associated
with multiplication
while division is given
the adverbs
with the minus calls of prepositions?

i am baron of flesh and
a weak: sensible mind...
i gather nibbles
of information:
i said the German police wanted
the English fans to smoke marijuana
rather than drink beer...
i blacked out last night
i blacked out last night...
i blacked out last night...
which is better than a hangover...
implies i'm self-aware
no longer question-worthy:
i'm undisputed in terms of consciousness
with the Arabs...

my lover would tell me:
not enough Protein honey-bean:
i hate her sweet American accent:
i ******* hate that
i have an American girlfriend...
i just laughed at her ******* PR resident
somehow
i don't understand Russophobia
when Islamophobia is being staged..
Daniil Medvedev:
tennis is the prized coupling
of Sport Contra Religion
and the wry SMILE...

i blacked out...
it's the most classy sport: out?
no i mean: how people are organized....
it's not like football or rugby...
class....
taste: aesthetic...
some people just never relieve themselves
on the concept of EXPERTISE
EXPERT_TEASE...
jeez jellbee belly button blues Reyla
come on! belly button!
i'll make a trumpet out of it
blowing hot kisses into it!

crab dance before the piano:
i'm no Chopin...
i can't conjure sounds of knowledge
with letters and numbers:
there's one angel:
the wander: of wand and wonder:
the chief: not chef:
the Prokofiev the Beethoven
the Messiah:
Jesus was no Moses was no Muhammad
was no War of Love
Lord:
just a Palestinian Human Shield
not a Jew!

i blacked out and i know how the fridge
looks rearranged across
Jupiter: Backgammon:
this strategy of Asiatic Slavic shaming:
SHEM...
HA...

            because i'm the worst sort of imitation
father this girl will ever
receive:
why do prostitutes keep calling me?
why do prostitutes keep calling me?
Khedra and Aloyse...
maybe Aloyse...
           maybe i am dragon and serpent
and a limp **** limp foot i
don't know: i want to know...
my eyes are burning
with the world of status quos
somehow: bewilderingly:           STUPID...
A-L'OH-EASE: ALOYSE..
how i write then how i say it...
stupid Swiftie thought
had this poet covered:

yes and if i were giving higher stature
as JOURNALIST...
poet v journalist...
hmm: get money for being literate:
hmm...
seems a shame to waste by watering
down with self-conglaturation...

the heavenly seeking
teenager girl peering eyes...
DISCO ******* LEGO
i've seen those eyes before:
they were mine:
a long time ago:

maybe humanity needs SLEEPERS...
gods...
demons...
geniuses: i think that a genius is a terrible
waste of the intellect:
a genius is intellect and self
never attested as: intellect is a
a faculty: a function: self-compounding...
self-complexing:
self-avoiding:
self-construc­ting:

                i am a light seeker sleeper...
what happened at Golgotha says
in Las Vegas... savvy?
ship in the desert:
supposedly no other adjective: wind...
WIATR!

         WIND:n it blew one minute: died the next.