I'll mind ya like a monsoon you hurricane gale force spirit wind, you!
Seems like you can't see past the eye of your silly storm seems like it's easy breezy bright light night sky lemon cheesy moon.

I'll mind ya like a monsoon of rabid baboons don't steal my life wine it's not mine same light same shimmer. Everything's every color but the one I see.

Oh jeeze oh jeeze
gimme a squeeze

Could you cut the ****?
Because, you sound like me;
playing on the edge of sanity.
Violets and violence
and things like defiance.
Could you just ******* trust me?
We all need some guidance.
Misdirection, perception and my misconceptions-
I might as well mention the years of deception.
Oh, the panic! The havoc!
"We think that we have it!"
Now, they've got us preaching
like screaming fanatics.
Go ***** to the wall.
I'm giving my all
and you'll only witness
my rise, not my fall.

My space
   Filled with all I should ever need. A bed, blankets; clothes and shoes everywhere, a window to see the world outside. For Gods sake I even have my own bathroom!

But I don't have you.

My gadgets
   Smartphone, computers, TV, Blue Ray, cable, gaming system, ..... Got plenty of gadgets. Mechanical, impersonal, cold. Jeeze, I spend a lot of time with them.

But I don't have you.

My time
   I'm free to do most anything I want. No job, yet I have money. No car, yet I can still get around. Responsibilities few. Why am I wasting so much time? Oh the potential!

But I don't have you

My friends
   One good friend. We can talk, listen, understand, support, trust one another. Others are around, not close though. Not the same. What do I do for them? Sadly, not much really.

But I don't have you

My family
   I've got parents. They support me, annoy me. They care and love me. Pets too. All around. It's..... good. Am I grateful?

I have all of this around me, and more
But I don't have you

my physical education teacher
once told me i had thunderous
thighs, like two skyscrapers attached
at the top at a 45º angle.

here is how the conversation went down:

‘you’re right, but i don’t
think that’s pertinent right now
as you are no longer my physical
education teacher and you are
interrupting my wedding vows’

oh he said

‘yeah, that’s my family over there.
they’re kind of in a rush for me to get
married so i don’t die alone. so if you
wouldn’t mind stepping aside so i can
finally mouth-kiss this chick’

wow i’m sorry i uh i don’t even
know how i got here this is really
strange **** what year is it even

‘it’s 2015. with all due respect sir,
you are really testing my patience’

jeeze i could have sworn i was standing
in front of a younger you just a second ago

‘listen don’t bore me with your time-travelly
apparition into the future ******* i would
really just like to get married and not have to
punch you in the ****’

sorry sorry what have i done to deserve this
are you sure it’s not 1994 still is this an elaborate
joke oh god oh god

‘just get the **** outta here okay?’

and then he shot himself in the face
like a rising sun that got a little too
self-conscious about the waning moon

Our world falls down like a house of cards.
And again were forced to build it back up but its never the same.
We forget the ace, the eight, and a few of the spades. And it makes a difference.
We become indifferent to each others pain at times
And time again we retreat to a false sense of intimacy.
Which fools us into thinking we love each other
Not to say we don’t love one another but (****!)
Why must it always take a trip to the bedroom to feel better?
I mean yeah its an attention grabber
and hell yeah I’m a go getter but
I’d sooner believe it was butter before I think the phrase I uttered to you
or you uttered to me had any real meaning,
least not while were squirming under the sheets ; only there cause it seems the right place to be
WELL JEEZE maybe you shouldn’t ask me my opinion if its hard to swallow.
do you want the red one or the blue one?
The one that makes you forget
or the one that makes you admit that nothing’s perfect, least of all us.
Way too fragile to ignore the wind
We got to make sure this house doesn’t come down again.
Better yet tear it down now (blows)
For we need a better foundation.
You want satisfaction?
Have a little patience
for every time we rebuild we go a little higher which means if we don’t fix this soon it could all come tumbling down….hard.
and we’ll end up suffocated
beneath the cards
and the *******
And the longing
And the tension will do nothing but **** us.
So lets not rush through this.
Just a little bit at a time.
Level by level
Emotion by emotion
Trust by trust.
Love by love.
Card by card.
and if we keep at it not only will we set a world record
but our skyscraper will scratch the heavens
and more than anyone else will leave each other breathless.

how rho uncouples -** and attaches itself to the remnants of alpha, given the suffix -lpha is done away with it, to create: ρα (fragrance of the woo ha ha lingering in the air) - ρα- ρα- ρασπυτιν! lover of the russian king... imagine rasputin in the hands of placebo - counter the original ghost story of: daddy cool... imagine! it's all Disney!

some say i reminded people of the φ:
                      some compare φ to outer beauty,
φ being the golden ratio: all bets are off:
whenever there is beauty, there's a number;
                           Proclus.
2,500 years ago: it's not that Greek civilisation
declined, it's only that so many bright skylarks
came in at one: akin to the Renaissance -
there was no decline, there was just a massive
******* of talent, it seems that Zeus
did the ******* with a swan and and an eagle,
and... bob's your uncle...
           there was decline, but there was no decline
because there was the sudden onslaught of instigation -
a decline would mean: first came Copernicus,
then Galileo, then Newton, then Einstein,
                        steadying revision
centuries apart... comparative association?
a gold rush... looking for nuggets and maulers
of rough cold - it was a collective light-bulb
moment... akin to the cold theory of
Jungian psychology that's the collective unconscious...
although the collective light-bulb moment
is particular in terms of history, in terms of
science, as is the Italian renaissance concerning art -
Martin Luther is the Socrates as the end of debauchery...
debauchery in a good sense: let the geniuses
seize, and the common man absorb their findings:
whether right, or wrong - we need common
threads of their offshoots, rebellious,
we need a common denominator.
back to φ (external beauty, and plastic surgery,
the perfect symmetry of the face,
from Phidias: the sculptor and mathematician -
can anyone tell me why *David's head is
over-sized? well, no φ went into that piece...
head's bigger than a watermelon,
body is proportioned well according to
limb-for-limb, but the head is a
balloon, why is it a classic? oi! send Isis
in to smash that **** to pieces!) -
so φ is all about external beauty,
we all know ψ (psi) stands for internal beauty,
psychological dynamics -
                                           plastic surgery,
in fractions: 1/2 (half), 1/3 (third), 1/4 (quarter),
                           1/5 (fifth) -
       apologies to Proclus: wherever there's a linguistic
symbol that symbolises both encoding of sound
   and a mathematical transition: there's double the beauty:
         1/φ,     2/φ,            3/φ              4/φ            -
       how when was the golden ratio made into a suiting
  equilibrium?
                          one leg shorter than the other?
   some say a lazy eye is as if an monocle -
            for all the constants it's the fractions that
  are decisive - the width of nose and the extent of
it's length is based on a 1:1 ratio
              ah crap! now i know my confusion!
   i was thinking of a silver fraction!
    never mind -
                               think gambling: 7 to 1...
          7/1                 maybe that's why i forgot ratio
    uses  colon, or, comparative emphasis -
                     the width of the mouth has no length,
               it's simply 1, or none -
                                      but from the edge of the face
to the first eye is measured as 1:φ
               i.e.                      eye                  eye
         [                               (    )                  (    )                            ]
     ­     <                1               >
          <                         φ                        >            
                                                                ­                             edge of face
top countries for face and head cosmetics:
   brazil: 10.8%         of global Σ, 430,375 procedures,     1st place,
   america: 10.4%      "      "       ", 413,140           "         ,     2nd   "    ,
   south korea: 7.8% "      "       ", 311,571           "         ,     3rd    "    ;
still, i'm more interested in how,
   you take rho and alpha and craft out Ra -
                     ρ               α                            Ρα -
    and where does -**               and -lpha go to?
                no wonder the Russians are the scientists
kindred heart of greece, and the inheritors of Latin
sing so much, fame themselves on music -
that's about right: the Slavs think well enough,
                    but, **** me... they can't sing for ****!
   jeeze! Disco Polo? that's one experience you
have to go through to understand -
                  what with Mendelyev
щ - e.g. szczypce (pliers) - shch - YZWZ - alter. -
             i.e. щypce -
            ш - e.g. szaszłyk (skewer) - шaшłyk
me? i'm standing at the time when god said:
oh, that ****** tower of Dubai? looks like we need
to spot the architect watching minding the glue...
э - well, that's currently know as the euro (currency) -
     so why ч (che / cha v. cze / cza)
   allowances, could be in addition also chu and cho and χ
           but... then it comes to
   ю (yu)              we have no yo, yi, ye, but instead
                       я (ya). peacock? me?
    just bemußed - and they're talking about an
identity crisis, never felt one, up to 2004,
when the floodgates opened and i wasn't the only
Pole in school - i hid all this time in English society,
and i was kinda accepted as a freak accident,
but then... after 2004... nothing special -
so like i once said: a psychological mongrel:
   yes, in English ß is: s-z-interchange -
sometimes smoothed, sometimes sharpened.

i still think
                                           that literature's       "      "
is better assumed as
     mathematics'                             ~
or what's simply abbreviated
                                    ambiguity, sort of,
as apologetics for Heidegger is concerned -
     that there is moral ambiguity in the interpretation
  of Dasein as ecstasis about, e.g. the war in Syria:
    but is that a self-serving ecstasis for the fact per se
    or that other interpretation for concern, which
with the above mentioned notation is a lack of,
       as in for peace to resume as common sense
      and less of what's suitable away from the apathetic
route, and indeed the ecstasis to shout for forced peace
            rather than see it all as without your moral
judgement with you being no moral agent in the matters
     that themselves have to resolve, without your input.
- and it always comes like this, cute little things,
or how you can condense all the theories surrounding
the psychological trinity into superego,
or that verse by Philip Larkin
        that begins wonderfully:
they ******* up, your mum and dad
  (this be the verse) -
  and the two other bits and bobs,
the Gemini scalpels -
       depending on how you wish
to make incisions into thought (or
any other moral quality, for that matter) -
do you wish to be a surgeon,
your own man as it were, and with the ego
cut your own story?
        or perhaps you'd prefer a butcher
psychiatrist lob pork chops of you
    with his depersonalising id?
         after all, he will say:
the laws of the state demands you have
so sort of i.d. (identification credential);
only the rich, a Kaiser Wilhelm of Germany
could ever fit the programme of Herr Doktor,
         Ode Odi Oedipus            Olé!
Herr... auto-****** means i have enough
******* on my ******* that
a gentle rub of the ******* gets me all
hot & bothered and juiced up?
   after all, the maidens of Egypt have
to have theirs cut and endure docile mantras
of why, why, why.
    and please, Herr Doktor, when
will Latin actually die? they keep saying
Latin is dead, familiarly like Nietzsche's god
is dead... but Latin isn't remotely dead,
  the blimmin' alphabet is still here,
how do i know? well, d'uh, i'm using it...
you say id             i say es
   you say ego               i say self
(then you make a Frasier joke about elves)
       and we go on and on in
this cat               mouse              game,
it's all a matter of fashion,
      they all said the above Mr. N was a
great stylist, after all an aesthetician is,
   and now they blabber on as if talking
Gucci pooch'e - this is dead, that is dead,
it's a fashion industry: but less obvious,
more inclined in       what you talk about
than what        you wear.
             said,
   '            ', he said
     "        ", he thought he said,
                                 or the narrator said it for him,
                         or the narrator thought he said it
for him, when in fact he didn't say anything
    nor the fact that there was anyone to actually
  say anything at all -
                 kinda a Beckett Watt moment.
           the Watt waltz, and that truly is a mind
   ******; as i sometimes wish narration was
kept in the Irish / Polish standard of notation
- and off we went to the poll booths.
- aye, and we vetoed rather than voted.
who would have thought that two ****-heads would
make the unlikely politicised duo of escapees.
             akin to Ulysses - but i get the
picture, the hyphenated compound words not
yet approved to be actual compounds,
        cite the Oxford committee for doing
****** paperwork, or none at all to modernise
  the Anglo-Smackson.
      ****... in the real world this could be
called pimping - but here... mm hmm:
peacock exfoliation - and i know it, so it's less
smarty and cared about: just... done.
yes, it usually starts rigid, that bit about
    Latin not being dead is extremely rigid
in composition - it's a sore the size of a ****-steak
   on my forehead -
            as is my lack of desperate attempts
to applaud Delmore Schwartz attempt to bring
    Finnegans Wake (the pearl in the crown
of all things difficult) to the people and the swine...
            so he didn't think Ulysses was
difficult enough? jeeze! and this alone reads like
a modern aversion to how young people are
drawn into mutilating themselves -
                  rampant ids             less acknowledged
Larkin moments in discussion:
        or perhaps the opera of suburban happy-go-happy-do?
       kids without even the foggiest of
the lysergic acid of Hanna-Barbera
                        and the Loons -
                                the fun-go-to lunacies of
cartoon network 20th century 90s...
                                       and hell: when we actually
        lived in times of toy story toys;
                 these days i'm getting the impression
a girl is probably going to play with a ***** than
   a barbie - must be the pink and the blonde
                         matched by the how many? jokes
    in mouth as in look doppio standards of not getting it;
but of course, the many other stereotypes.
            well, us kids, back then,
                          ah...         nothing like that coming again.
       summary... in ref. to the title,
   it's next days shrapnel from the debauchery of
the previous night, or why i write drunk and sometimes
get lucky sobering up and do not indulge in the bottle
      and not write something, and end up not writing
something like William Styron's Darkness Visible,
    who also drank, but didn't write and drink,
                  drank on the sobering up note, like
this poem. well, i figured, if i don't exploit the drinking
       as a sedative unwinding and be bashful
then, resolutely, the sobering up me is still making
  that blood wine:
                          and never did liquidating
   two kilograms of caster sugar in half a litre of water
             feel like handling mercury.

Hello there.
General Depression.

Corny Star Wars reference aside,
welcome back.
Gotta say,
didn't really want cha back,
but here you are...  Bags and all.
Jeeze, what year are those bags from anyway?
I feel like you should have let those go, awhile ago.
Okay, so you're not going away.
At least not anytime soon.
It's just, when you're here
it's hard to find topics of conversation.
The silence isn't comforting,
but it persists.
I feel like conversations flowed like rivers until you became the dam that stoped the flow.
Now the once prospering ecosystem, is sick and unbalanced.
That ecosystem I call my mind is crying out to the operators to open the gates; let the river flow.
But I sit on shores with waves in the sand that say 'movement once happened here.'
I feel the dust bowl coming
all the signs are here, I've seen this all before.
I have to plant trees now
before everything blows away.

Reddit
You are a bunch
Of snowflakes
There is a difference
From normal to terrorism
There is a difference
Between a Muslim extremist
And a flipping Buddhist.
When will this BS of racism
And bigotry
End??!!
Jeeze!!!!!

I sit here
and try to figure out
what the next thing I am going to say is
i don’t know if it is the history
or I don’t know if its the signs from the roosevelts
being who they were
making decisions
and I don’t know where all this capitalist conundrum comes from
but I’m obsessed with beauty
and the way it works
I like to study it
and understand my figures
and understand my neighbors
and I am emotionally drained from work
but I am compelled
to continue doing what I do
and there will be things
that come and go
and make measures clear
and work in tandem with the fixtures overhead
and recite lines with the best who were out on a wing
and make love to circus freaks visiting their own visions
and liking the way leo works between films
and destroying art when it is ironic to do so
oh jeeze the way these things work
and they

are

just

broke

and

happy

maybe it was hard for god to say it was good--
maybe that was just a silly, random new word he made up
"good," he said
"that's what i'll call it."

--and perhaps he chuckles--

"like me,
but different."

maybe he had to stop kurt from singing
all in all is all we are
all in all is all we are...
just so he could forgive himself for an eternity or two
just so there'd be more than one long apology.

and well,
it's never too late to restart
it's never too late to restart
it's never too late to restart
it's never too
hahahaaaaa

Sometimes it's nice
how I can fall back
onto certain phrases,
but **** would I love to leap
into new ones!

It just means
I've gotta start skipping
I've gotta give myself a
good runnin' start!

It's like I'm pre-placing
all the notes in the scale
and ripping them out in a
roll roll roll
just because I know I can
but I should really pay
more attention
to each
and every
one
individually....
after all it's the sum
of all the parts that make it
greater than the pieces
apart

anyway like
what are you trying to say
what are you trying to black hole black hole where do these words come?!
from star gazer star gazer
try to think thoughts and
all of a sudden universe
universe and
I just want to make it
from one place to another but
it just so happens that
that place is just another
and then there's another
and another to go to and
all of a sudden I'm in the
throes of the universe
the throes of creating new places
and how am I supposed to create a new place if I'm trying to figure out how to get to the next place?

jeeze I'm just another face!
what the ****, look at all these eyes everywhere! how many are there?!

I'd love to count,
I'd love to sit beside
every single one of them
and enjoy every nuance
of their dilation and
it's always fun to see
myself in the blackness
of their pupils.
In the right light sometimes
I can see my own pupils.
Sometimes I can see
my own star
gazer gazer star gazer
black hole universe you are
a breath in the making you are
a breath in the taking in
the giving in the
receiving and
I'm in the throws
I'm in the lobby waiting
I'm in the lobby lobbing linguistic lilies from pond to pond and I'm licking lateral lines across your lilting laughter and what are you some kind of heart monitor?

My thoughts are shallower than the puddle you didn't even notice you stepped in.

They say,
"Oh but you seem happy... could you really have depression"?
Jeeze, my sincere apologies, I did not realize they made trenchcoats the shade of hopeless desperation
I should have shoes that count steps, to project my need to justify why I got out of bed

I must have forgotten to cover myself with war paint, to prove to outsiders my internal battle
But I will buy lots of velcro, so I can wear the words whispered and screamed by my depression late last night
Tell me, did you really believe I could show you by sight
The twisted demon that lives inside

Winters in this city, jeeze they are cold
winds kick a frozen play
so biting and bracing it is
in the big apple city of hope

I love to walk down 42nd Street
have a coffee at the Grand Central Terminal
sipping slowly, watching the people go by
pad and pen in hand writing my life away

Nice place New York, a place you feel hidden
no one has time to notice you
and in the winter especially so
when it's biting in the big apple


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Know know, the knowing, ever reaching, expanding, like ice, sticking, irritating, emerging with confusion, a hurt head, wondering, what happened?  Jeeze it's impossible to find anything. The sun is blinding, reaching, the stops drag onward, reaching the city, reaching the city, my bags got too many holes in it now, but jansport holds up, mountain men making their next exit. Held up by their lack of nutricion, their eyes crusty and tired, not lumberous jacks but minstrels now, with a few driniing songs to keep from souring the mood. On and on and even flow

Got this stamp wrapped on me like a tattoo
At this point no zoo and can hold me back
No place is safe from the length of my street
I'm the cloud raining 2C-B,
Spend most of the time in the sheet
On my on days I'm spreading love and chemical treats
Better pray and pray I dont get you hooked on the good
This drugs not used to the hood
New to being the king of this B
But I'm King Bee none the less
Nexus doesn't **** with us
Even when we ***** this stuff
Eyes wide like we're ****** up
Dutch Champaign got me shut up
Only hoping they don't lock me up
Got the feds on me like flies
Avoiding contact with my eyes
Lying through my teeth
Know I'm goin' to go flying soon
All 'cause of this good, jeeze.
Gonna go flying soon.
Gonna go flying soon
Can't stay in this hood.

i know that just by drinking i will not feel good
with myself, i need to write something:
drinking alone never made much sense...
drinking when partying and socialising...
drinking when going to night-clubs almost:
almost always failing to pick up girls...
**** me... at my lowest i still managed to flirt
with a girl, kiss her dance with her...
   i even walked her to the bus-stop...
before she asked me what i did:
i said i was unemployed... i sort of forgot to say
that i was a poet in the making...
perhaps that's why i don't think i'm an alcoholic:
although... in a week's worth?
    i probably drink... how many units is a bottle
of whiskey?! 40... 4 x 7 =... ****... 3 x 7 = 21...
add a 7... that's 28... then add a zero...
i drink close to about 300 units of alcohol per week...
ha ha... and on the bottles?
   it reads: chief medical examiner for England
suggests that adults do not exceed drinking no more
than 14 units per week...
ha ha ha...                             ah ha...
i have a worried mind... i already said to myself:
like Prometheus... i'll sacrifice my liver to salvage
my mind...

and i'm willing to sacrifice years of my life into
my mortality's "winter" for the current ride...
i know the risks... i'm just really worried about being
constipated... and... eternity... eternity is a dawn
with a night before a day...
it's scaring me... should all of it be true...
well... the thought started scary... eternity?!
while all these insects live only days...
with infanticide and the neunormen

new-norms and old-taboos...
and then back to new-taboos and old-norms...
some people think time is linear... given history...
some people think time is cyclic...
we read history with a grain of salt and hindsight
and repeat our mistakes...
i? i think time is a sea-saw...
we're like a tide... a tide comes in...
a tide goes out... sometimes we appear
spectacular... like at the height of the Roman Empire
of the zenith of Greek intellectual curiosity...
then we fall back... allow for barbarian invasions...
what was spectacular about Ancient Greece
became Byzantine: i.e. bureaucratic...
muddled... the only great aspect of Byzantine
culture was the chants...
oh sure... the Greco-Judeo pact did undermine
the Latin influence...
the New Testament is a testament of the Greco-Judeo
pact: to undermine the Roman Empire...
no?

     it isn't? oh... come on... the myths because over time
myths: given time...
go along the pyramid "scheme" of:
mythology "<" history "<" journalism "<"...
          aha! now poetry comes to the fore...
which way are we going to go? "<" or ">"?
  what a wonky looking L... or Γ (gamma)...
then again... maybe it's one of those weird
"Copernican" Vs....
   right... how now: write the plural of vvvvvv...
without the apostrophe that's also
suggestive of v's... i.e. V owns a lawnmower?
right... move the apostrophe along... Vs'...
because... it's not versus: hence no vs. <---
  the full stop...

to reiterate: i learned to constrain my frustrations
on Samuel Beckett's Watt...
i remember one sunny afternoon
lying in a park and laughing from frustration
at the complications of the language...
laughing out loud: getting a wave hello from a small
boy walking back from school with his mother...
i wasn't laughing at anything particular
or for that matter universal, just the per se...

how else? vs' or vees or vvvvvvv etc.?
plenty of v v v v v v v
                 < < < < < < < <
                > > > > > > > > > ?

we haven't moved that much from the ancient
world... where letters had a duality of being used
as phonetic encoding symbols and mathematical
constants after all...
VI + IX = XV
    6 (b) + 9 (P) = 15 (IS)

now i would to being an alcoholic is i simply
drank to drink...
but i'm writing... i need creative juices...
if i'm not jerking off to pictures of mature
women... Ava Lauren... come on...
it's a Porsche of a body...
i don't need to watch anything... just the photograph
and i leave the rest to the imagination:
although compared to the cinema of memory:
the cinema of my imagination lasts at outbursts...
sure... if i were simply drinking...
to "cope": drinking before a mirror
and falling asleep with a hand placed in a bucket
of water to wet my bed...
yeah... then i'd join some A.A.... ahem...
midday "group therapy session"...

but i'm busy... well into the morning hours...
scribbling like "mad" like... the monk who wrote
the Codex Gigas...
       me? devil or my own ego? i like my garden...
only today before my expedition i offered
two plums to my neighbour and my mother...
i brought these kind fallings in my hand outstretched
in my palm... washed... obviously...
but i didn't usher in any confusion:
no conflation of knowledge
regarding: what's good (universal)
   with what's evil (particular)... hello!
                       Greco-Judeo conspiracy...

wow! Δ delta... that's not the "letter"
Pythagoras worked with... is it?
   he was working out why either L or Γ
have either \ or / missing respectively, no?
          but delta? Δ? that's an isoscoles...
now... i dare to wonder: akin to Heidegger:
  question-worthiness arises from a spontaneity...
questions asks themselves...
people just need to find them...
this is but one example...

you know when you're sitting in a garden...
and you hear a shoom echo in the sky...
but can't see anything...
right... there's a jumbo-jet flying over your
garden... you hear it first...
seconds later you see you...
**** the chicken and the egg dynamic for normal
people saluting the mantra of passive
curiosity...

what came first?
Δ or the triangle?! that's a big question:
a question that Wittgenstein could only appreciate...
since he wrote so sparingly:
but i have to admit... his stance on tautology:
the thesaurus... mine: on thesaurus rex...
and the dictionary omnibus...
                          i want to repay Samuel Beckett
with the same frustrations he poured onto me...
this is my revenge... i want to fry brains and then:
freeze them...
            
what came first? Δ (the letter) the sound...
Da da da or the triangle?
my guess is: ****... i've already answered it...
with what?! the use of ******* pyramids...
but how Δ morphed into D and how did the pyramids
become abstract "all of a sudden"?
ah... the glory days of Greek intellectual curiosity...
its genesis... oh too suddenly ***** by:

the myth of the origins of Rome...
the Aeneid: a Trojan holiday in Tuscany after the fall
of Troy...
    
but no... i couldn't simply drink and pretend
to look into a mirror...
i wish i could have been a painter:
then again: no...
i can't leave "****" to abstracts: to some "suppose so...."
"suppose" he "thought" this blah blah blah-*******...
ever get "*****" by a South African
with ****-friction that was so bad
you thought you were getting circumcised
of putting your phallus inside an enlarged earthworm's
mouth-gut?
    i have... it's not a pleasant experience...
knock-knock on wood... ****... not wood:
knock-knock on bone: i.e. my forehead...
               what a terrible **** that was...
and she was raised in society... a teacher at some
boarding school... all boys...
******* cocoon ***... in the dark...
under the bed-sheets... never... ever! again!
but at least i now know what a slightly timid
beached whale of a ****-blonde stereotype looks
like...
           dry ***** are the worst...
seriously: it felt like ****...
on to occasions i had problems with getting a hard
on with prostitutes...
this one time: fair enough...
it was my first time having a *******...
obviously i was nervous...
but when i was... ahem #metoo "*****"...
i was as hard as a fiddle...
   what the **** did she spike the food with?!

well.. what's done is done... Johnny Depp was believed:
a fully documented affair...
ah... this conflation on the basis of the word AND...
it's not like "he" said: and you will know
the difference between either good or evil...
that "we" will know the difference between
good AND evil... knowing our ontology:
we'd be prone to entertain good as evil...
and evil as good... in the latter instance:
the more lasting, entertaining prospect...
               aligned with our hoarding sentimentalities...

Kierkegaard was onto something...
but he just didn't have the bilingual or the "autistic" /
"schizophrenic" focus to drill the baron of 90
into a corner and establish grandiose architecture...

it's one bad "thing" after another...
the fact that i might be drinking and not scribbling:
an opportunity wasted...
but the fact that i can't find the right sort of music
to listen to while i scribble...
hell... if i could write in silence...
but it usually takes one song...
a song passed down...
BRYGADA KRYZYS - to co czujesz, to wiesz:
Crisis Brigade - what you feel, is what you know...
sampled from an album from 1992...
Poland... i never imagined them being
so bilingual... how did i arrive at the song choice?
i was revisiting Edinburgh trying to get back together
with my ex-Russian lass...
  failure... she was already on a "different " path...

three nights in a hostel... left to a ****** couple...
i was only "scouted" when talking to some Slovak...
i got drunk and my English veneer drooped...
**** me... i had a wild night in Cracow
a day after...
i was fending myself from this waggling tongue
taxi driver who caught me
squeezing at my "major-phlegm" residue tool
trying to find an alley-way...
scary story... teenage girls not invited...

but i was in a hostel with this couple from Warsaw...
best name for a capital anywhere...
compare War-Saw with Bang-****...
ha ha... so she was this tall girl...
pristine like a ballerina...
played netball or whatever the hell tall girls play...
we were roaming Edinburgh and we
came across a charity shin-dig
and i exclaimed: oh.. what a nice acoustic (guitar)...
immediately... she retorted:
i hope you return to Warsaw and find
a nice girl for yourself...
i.e.                      not her?!

what a hyper-democratic reality we're all living in
right now...
   i'm not going to see her again...
i can see her like i can see my great-grandad...
a shadow... a figment of my imgation: almost...
"almost" being the fact that she recommended
this song for me: feeding me this idiotic self-worth-sence
delusion of comparative "literarture":
i'm John Peel...
  but my speciality is outside the realm of
the English speaking world...

wasn't today spectacular?
   it sort of began... "it sort of": began with me cringing
at an accident waiting to happen...
some white-van man was exiting a Tesco carpark...
too high... too high... jeeze!
sraped his ladder clean: proof off of this roof...
helped him out... became a 5 minute part-time
traffic warden... he ease back...
i picked up the pieces... you alright mate?
we had it sorted...

then on a whim... roughly... from Havering Road
to Edgware Road?
****... if i was going to cycle down Oxford St...
i would be cycling with a copy of Ovid to read in Hyde
Park.... instead? i cycled via Central London...
Chancery Lane: just before Holborn... and *******
Holborn Circus...
**** me... London looks weird without a tube-map...
it's 4-D geography...

if Donald Trump was playing 4D chess...
then i'm orientating myself around 4D geography...
on a bicycle... having formerly used
the buses and trains and the tube of London...
to hell with that load of trans-Atlantic *******...
sure sure...
you say one more ******* thing
along the lines of SLAV(e)... say it...
say it's "etymologically" sound...
say it... now that you have? ****** ****** ****** ******...
not the same?!
you have a problem? i don't have a problem...
i can tell the difference between a Somalian
a Nigerian and a Kenyan?
we're? having? spelling? issues?

English "public intellectuals"; them!
you add that ******* epsilon to the word Slav-
and? i'll just cut off the suffix -an
from the word GERMAN...
           ******* filth! GERMS!
    **** or ****** is not an isolated
instance... but then again: i trust the Russian
to use their bayonets more than i trust them
to use their tongues...
and that's wrong... since... they could readily
people the shadow-people of the shadows
of people...

    i've been ******* for quiet some time....
i'm ready to pounce... bite at something pulsating...
i ask the song i'm listening to on repeat:
what's my problem?
i can't say ******...
but some English ******* can add
an E to my ethnicity and equate me
to SLAVE... what etymological guarantee
does he: GERM...have?
                            i'm currently in the process
of eradicating a rat from my house...
GERMANIC PEOPLES ARE VERMIN...
THEIR WOMEN ARE EASY TARGET ****...
what?!

the "situation" is a lot different from what
it was under the deconstruction of the Soviet Empire...
now all i see... the deconstruction of
the Capitalistic hegemony...
hell... i bet that even Vietnam is on board!

Slav(e)?! NIGGERNIGGERNIGGERNIGGER...
what he **** are you going to, do?!
sure... you're not a racist..
you're just an etnicist! ETHNICIST!
inter-racial biases: Russophobia:
all Russians are "bad": when they say they are...
you...

   sie fickin rattekeimemesch.....

'__'
''     ''      Li - i.e. fire... as a trigram
'__'       ******* toaf-face "smile":
to suggest "fire"...

i completely abhor leaving poems began one evening
and not finished:
squatting thoughts enter this abandoned housed...
and i can't strain my desire to keep
with the concept of Ensо̄:
                                                  エンソー

a poem completed in one sitting: i'm not a novelist:
i'm a "poet"... i don't have the luxury to retain
days and days on a composition:
what i start i must finish... i can't allow myself
this luxury of a novelist...
hit the iron while its hot comes to mind...

mind you: what's the difference between a proverb
and a maxim?
    i think that... maxims are conjured up whims...
half-truths... statements without justifications
or if they are grounded in any justifications:
they are for French ballrooms
for Confucian strict MING obligations...

                        maxims are untested truths...
maxims are: to say the least: not proverbs in that
they are hardly mystifying...
like this Slavic proverb:
   better a sparrow in your hand than a dove
upon your roof...
      oh: i know what that means...
better your own happiness than the happiness
of your household: and not out of selfish reasons?
if you are content... the contenteness can seep out
of you... and into the household...
why? you have a ******* sparrow in your hand...
who cares about a dove on your roof?

problem... i forgot what i was writing about yesterday...
i made notes:

- Mashiter's Hill
- King Rat
- щ "vs.": -ść                       me?!
invent a letter?! ha?!

well... i was so close so close to finishing...
Godsmack is touring... i think i'm going to try to get a ticket
for one of their gigs...
they're currently my favourite rock band...

Mashiter's Hill... oh... this little hill with a park...
i can walk up it and i usually drink a beer on
one of the benches... from it...
i have a pristine panorama of London...
   me? i'm at the utmost north-eastern tip of Greater
London...
                  it's London and it's "London"...
anything outside of the A406 is hardly anything beside
the Home Counties...
i wish other English people would cut the Essex
folk some slack... esp. the women...
     to me they're nuns...
or... as i recently found out... i'm unapproachable by
women... unless they're really drunk...
i'm just recounting what i hear:
a ******* will tell me i'm beautiful
a drunken woman in her 40s will tell me i'm ****...
do i make any moves on that?
    hardly... i like su doku puzzles: not headaches
caused by women...

but only yesterday i did a 50+ mile journey there
and back to Edgware Road to... hmm...
drink a Thai beer...
                    there's no point having a cycling session
less than the length of a marathon...
i stopped off at Chadwell Heath and bought myself
some fish sticks (45% Surimi - Alaskan *******,
   Hake and some crab) - of the 16 in the packet
i gulped down 14... it's such a bad idea
to cycle that sort of distance without having eating
anything... toward Edgware Road i was cycling
in a trance... literally i was honing in on an abstract
black hole as an ink blotch just ahead of me...
   but coming back? the low sugar levels kicked in...
i lost concentration... ah... i'm burning fat resources...

well... i tried cycling drunk once... Francis Bacon
painting-esque sort of bruising... never again...
but that didn't stop me from cycling...
in heavy traffic...
    on top of Mashiter's Hill i admired the distance
i covered... oh look... cycled past the Docklands
and Canary Wharf... went past the Shard...
all the way up to Hyde Park...
tomorrow i'm going to repeat the journey...
maybe i'll get a chance to meet up with Dan
and he might sneak me in to watch some Pearl Jam...
i was sent a text today about a possible shift...

**** me... hierarchies... SIA licensing...
no stewards welcome...
              fair enough, no problem read my reply...
i'd love to see that band... but i'll cycle there anyway
and maybe get a whiff of the music...

king rat? yeah... that one...
    i'm currently working on getting rid of a rat in my kitchen...
had to removed all the foods from the cupcoards
near to the ground...
  smart *** *******... or fatherfucker...
either Oedipus or Electra... either way...
i have smart cats...
but i never thought i'd have a smart rat...
falling asleep feels sort of weird...
    it's not like having a parasite in your body...
i have a rodent in my house...
   the party starts circa 12am... it starts moving...
i tried cheddar in mouse traps...
i.e. why do i think this rat is smart?
         well... em...
                (s)he doesn't simply eat the cheese
and doesn't get caught...
   (s)he ***** off with the mousetraps!
             i had to buy / replace the mousetraps
with rat traps... basically guillotine equivalent machinery...
if that "thing" snapped at my fingers
i think i'd be left with a broken finger, or two...
but what sort of rat takes the cheese
and the mousetrap with it into the darkness
of his hiding Eden?!

            i'm reluctant to use rat poison...
i'm sort of hoping for a Robespierre's clean cut...
snap... i don't want to **** the poor ******
by snapping its snout... i want to **** it
by crushing its neck... i don't want it bleeding from
its snout: to dead...
            sure... i'd love the Disney adventure
of Mickey... but if it only ate the food... but chewing
on cables... i have a ******* washing machine
and a dishwasher... it starts chewing on that:
i'm ******... smartest rat i've ever encountered:
courtesy of my Nigerian neighbour performing some
voodoo rituals at night leaving food
in the garden thinking he was feeding pigeons...
even one of my cats brought me two dead younglings
after catching them...
i know a rat is a rat and a mouse is a mouse...
mice are timid... rats? the i.q. shoots up...
****'s sake... it's not enough to take the cheese
and not get caught... it also has to take the trap
with him... what? knowing rats...

even if its tail was caught... it'd chew it off...
   it would mane itself in order to scuttle into shadow
and dust into a future...
two songs come to mind:
Pearl Jam vs. Ghost: RATS...
                  of course i prefer the former...
but a rat's a rat... and a washing machine is a washing
machine... i feel bad about killing it...
please don't let me use poison pebbles...
but?

   **** me... last point... right... the English point
about "too many vowels" in the ****** lingo?
sure... well... if the Serbs could incorporate the Latin J...
i think i can make a bypass...

what's rat in ******? szczur...
exactly... what instances allows me to...
first of replace the Z with H and use it in Ing-leash?
CHeap... ****... but not together...
the idiosyncrancy of the tongue that belongs
to itself...

but there's an alternative... borrowed from Cyrillic...
personally? i don't mind using it...
spares me "details"...
i know that Hebrew hides letters:
notably vowels... like diacritical marks...
i know certain languages hide letters...
this is perfect...

   щur = szczur...
                  less consonants for you?! happy?!
there are plenty of words that couple
the SH+CH / SZ+CZ dynamic...
щotka: brush...
          ah... i can do away with SZCZ via (щ)...
but there's a doubled conundrum...
with a word like:

sincerity: szczerość....
          see... i can do away with the "excesses" of Z)
щero

but even Russian Cyrillic doesn't have
a compounding... diphthong...
****... we're not talking about diphthongs... are we?
diphthongs require two vowels...
we're not talking about vowel "transgenderism"...
we're talking about 3 consonants merging...
so...
   it's not a diphthong... not that i care to look
for the SHCH curiosity... but i haven't found
a name for it...
   but we're talking about letters without diacritical
markers... well... "technically":
you could...

                         šč-        
                                     but that doesn't appear in Czech...
only in ****** and Russian...

                     šč- = щ
          
           yes... the prefix hyphen is necessary...

because that's exactly my point:

   dość!                   enough!

where: šč- = щ does exist?
                 -ść = ?          yeah... there's not Cyrillic equivalent...
i would have to invent a letter!
and i don't have the capacity to just conjure such
a letter up...

i've mentioned this before: it's annoying me...
the etymological crux of falsehood...
among the Anglo-Saxons...
that the etymological root of Slav is written
with a missing "e" via "slave"...
sacred words? niggerniggernigger...
hard to giggle?! the extra G too much?!
i'm offended, too...
           let me relay this message to the Russians...
they might rough up some UPA Ukranians...
no matter... better warring among "ourselves"
than having foreign influencces...
Communism was only born out of Pan-Slavism...
we tried... we failed: good to know we failed...
now the western world is playing the fools' bargaining
chips... i'm just looking on and thinking:
it's just a matter of time... before there will come
a canyon, a crater from what would otherwise
dispel the dinosaur's and leave us with
nothing but crocodiles and serpents...

i'm looking for ingenuity in creating a letter...
akin to

šč- = щ
                                                                ­ -ść = ?          
                     i want
more wounds to lick... or rather:
i want a single mum's dog to lick m knuckles...
i want to listen to more Godsmack: pretend angry...
i want anger: i want furore:
i want energy... i want sweets...
i don't really think i need that much fibre...
that much fat... that many high-tier carbohydrates
to take more time to break down:
i think i need to look for a different brothel...

all the Chinese ideas... but written without ideograms...
without ******* traffic colours...
why is it green and not blue to imply: GO!
blue? water?!
           then again... makes sense...
"sense"... i feel autistic by now...
mix blue with yellow... what do you get? green?
two-birds with one stone motto...
              
i can't just create a letter... on the spot...
it will take years to counter the Cyrillic prefix
with a Pollack suffix...
   like my inability to paint the fence...
i just can't do it...
              i'm painting a fence... i'm not painting
a worth of canvas...
i can't: i'll blame it one the roses...
but the roses are not the problem...
the painting itself is the problem...
                    
       all the Chinese ideas...
but... without the ideograms...
written in Katakana... or best.. in Hanguel...
without the ideograms...
"emoticons"...
            death is not a respiting fellow;
death is a harrower of an inevitable harvest.

i just wrote a corruption of what i should
have believe in with
a contending contentment.

my heart is
P O U N D I N G
you make me see gold when things are black,
when you talk like that I freak O U T because, wow! how do you do that to me?
so I don't care if i have to cross a sea O F vulnerabilities and emotion,
ill do it all for that time you said M Y smile made you happy, when your happy i can fly to the stars an back.
My C H E ST feels all fluttery whenever our eyes meet and jeeze I'm just a frikity frakin mess

o.k, let's begin with
                   bragging,
and end with it; that's also called
the youth not
having a fetish
with hooded men?!
try my luck at jerking off
at getting off women
at women doing
the practicioner
      basics...
         well,
   if one ******* is allowed
to brag...
what  makes the "other"
                  perverse?!
                 jaws or some jeeze?
the thought of killer sharks
is suddenly killer-caurosel
     you, *******,
                    gimmick-punchers?!
hard-on no via hooded attire
but a fake via a
                     :  wigging it?!
                 ******* gagging
wiggins...
                you dope him...
one, more ******* time...
           see what rus is actually
impure...
   probably a ratio
               of zero - nil...
                 bleeding eyes...
                    it breeds rather than
confiscates the advert...
                         hark, the summon,
debating teams: fox contra hyena.

Sitting waiting for the glare...
from gifts of beauty and fueled dreams

Yet what I sensate or demand
   never tells the truth...

Of horror and tales that these dreams demand

Why put the day off if you don't know what it is?

It's only a death sentence... jeeze what chaos life inside breeds...
About a bluff, roads flying front abut to ground, before tossing a swig -as they aim for the ground.

This lonely speaking solstice is tethered and casing me for a thievery...

What more can weigh  me down?
  I know the free dream will soon hit the ground.
When you feel it, as it moves through the night,
   what destiny can brave grounded golden grand aspirations seek,
        and climb visceral to the platinum delight with you?

Now, yield's sensations of brutal werewolf daunting tasks
while the Rubicon was awaiting for the rhyme to reason was tasked...
  
From the slew of slowest askewest acrimonious new deeded clough.
   Our rough paced real world awakening
   affront stood with a standing stance akin
   of the lauded for the first indication with sessions of warriors
   that knew... for the last and reason cast to **** the lives of innocents,    
   for the lives of the be all, are with that of bane or function;
   affirm avail go through.