Friendships are easy to lose when you play competitive videogames, rage quits and pride on the line, and yeah that's when things get insane. Smash bros, tekken, street fighter, king of fighters and mortal kombat, the greatest fighting games to ever come out of game designers hats. Its magic man, its addictive like gambling, who is the best gamer and who is a noob that everyone be trampling. Gg bro, even though we don't mean it though, your not as good as us, compared to us you are nothing but a ***. Powning and owning all you suckers, PC or console gaming, either way you are bound to find some trolling little *******. Gamer life, and one aspect of the nerd life, but there is more to our expansive life. There are the: know it all’s who can reference anything and corrects everything everyone says, and if you can't keep up, you can have a nice day. Star trek and star wars, collecting action figures that are definitely not dolls, roll them dice boy to see if our clan survives going down the falls. Dungeons and dragons, role-playing in a fantastic fantasyland, joining clubs like board games, videogames, writing, reading or band. Make fun of us now, but in the future we could be your bosses, so think about the next time you say that were wasting time trying to beat a dark souls boss. Cosplaying and reading comic books, this is the nerd life man, relaxing in our snuggies and croc's. Don't judge us without getting to know us, who knows you might want to get on the nerd bus. On a mission like Frodo or harry, going faster than the speed force just call us Barry. Feeling lucky punk, riding over you like a monster truck. Nintendo, Sony, Microsoft, steam, Sega, and PC, may just be me but I love it all, I'm not picky I appreciate things as they are like Marvel and DC.  Go go gadget, hate getting stuck traffic, I'm not the killer, I'm as innocent as Rodger rabbit. Please Ed, edd, and eddy, don't need to cause a scene because that would be pretty petty. What's the sitch wade, better beat those bad guys that choose to miss behave even if it effects my school grade. Kids that watch Cartoon Network nowadays will never how awesome it used to be, shows like samurai jack, power puff girls, Johnny bravo or Dexter’s laboratory. Duck hunting, ****** tunes and chill binge on anime and the only slam-dunk we do is Denny's pancakes sorry Shaquille O’Neal. Pocket protecting fiends; not to good at puberty, man we spending it all watching reality kings. New beginnings, love seeing what’s new at e3 each year, except for waiting for that game to arrive, counting the days till it finally appears. This the Nerd life, I may have never got the attention of girls when I was young but who knows I may just find myself a nerd wife. I can't wait to show my kids all that I know, the circle of life man, now I have a new perspective on watching this kid of mine grow. Future hopes, future class blasting off into possibilities, nerd life man better build up my durability.

"You were a precisely,
a poured tall glass of disaster.
Face covered with spots,
also known as freckles,
that are always concealed by loads of caked on consealer.
*** of a goddess,
the ultimate reason of my demise.

5 foot 4,
a devil in disguise..
To my surprise,
was the truth in reality
of falling for an evil *****.

When you're at your best down on your knees you're probably actually about
3 foot 3.
Your mouth in action,
in more ways than one,
was your best weapon..
So unbelievably deadly.

I was just another casualty,
Your capabilities of such unspeakable
evil savagery.
Articulated strategy,
of going in for the **** of my heart.
Looking me dead in my eyes,
as you smile in my face.
A ****** made artistry.

Proceed on with your kombat for the mortal finale.
Go ahead and finish me,
make it my fatality..
But don't forget to burn away
what's left of me."

Playin' games.
=============
Jay Text Sandman aka Skitz Text

Set the timer click click now the clock is tick tockin'.
I came to play the game. Like a KNIK KNAK knockin'.
Your rhyme flow is slow you know like PLAYDOUGH.
I gobble up fine rhymes like a HUNGRY HIPPO.
Like SUBBUTEO I kick it.
Shruggin' off your challenge like BUCKAROO kickin'..
..up ****. I sunk your BATTLESHIP.
You played out your game of CHARADES. That's it.
I dig deep in me rhyme dictionary.
You scrawl on the the wall like palsy PICTIONARY.
Not strugglin'. I'm jugglin' the rhymes in me head.
Slam dunk. KERPLUNK. Nuff said.
No, never. No way. Who am I kiddin'?
You know I got the rhymes. And I got the rhythm.
I confess. Like a game of CHESS.
Checkmate. No debate. Not a pretty pawn missin'. *  

It’s the end of the games like RIP,
I Multikill MC’s like COD,
Keep your mind on your MINECRAFT can’t catch me,
Cause Skitz is EC's Artillery,
droppin bombs watch the FALLOUT or you’re Dogmeat
FAR CRY from the old days of CRT
So your attempt is DOOMed best clear the room,
SWAT’s get Swatted Mic shotgun BOOM!,
Blast backdraft will destroy your CIV,
No cheat codes PAC em up MAN time to give,
RESPEC- to the PORTAL gun hangin’ on me hip,
You’ve got HALF a LIFE left faster than NO CLIP
But I said no cheatin’ Hackers get Hacked up,
No Multiplayer,cause you’ve no backup,
I’m glorying in the games we play,
Checkmate VS XBOX  pass to Jay.

Chorus
Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic and it's Jay to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

When I flex it's hectic. Like SCALEXTRIC.
Switch lanes to PERFECTION.
I've a MONOPOLY in this game.
Don't pass go. Go straight to jail.
You fall like DOMINOES. I leap like a salmon.
Tisk tisk. Big RISK. Now I have BACKGAMMON.
Stamina. A steady hand OPERATION.
Ace up me sleeve and I'm just playin' PATIENCE.
Got me POKERface on.
Read 'em and weep as the game plays on.
I got a dead mans hand but I animate the mic.
BULLDOGS charge. You know I'll reach the other side.
Back to me den.
Repeat after me like SIMON SAYS.
RED ROVER, RED ROVER. I call Jay over.
You think it's over ?
No my friend. *  

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

This Steam Machine is heatin' up a treat
So don’t be TEKKEN the ****,just feel the beat,
This KOMBAT’s MORTAL to enemies,
But it’s a full HEALTH PACK to Fans of E.C.,
So OverClock your CPU,
get your Soundcard Jumpin like chimps in SIM ZOO,
drop DICE on ICE from here to Timbuktoo,
STREET FIGHTER’s and Writers BIOSHOCKin' you

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic Schizophrenic to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

I SPY with my little eye.
Somethin' beginnin' with J. I let fly.
As your JENGA tower wobbles.
I smile. You drop tiles. Dropped your poxy box of SCRABBLE.
Look out. That could spell disaster.
Triple word score as the rhymes rip past ya. Blast ya.
Quick out the trap like The Flash playin' SNAP.
Check the lyrical master. *
As the Dungeon Dragon spreads his wings-lets fly
playin' the game the pied piper pies,
catch you rats in me MOUSETRAP its a snap,
"cause I wrote the rhymes that broke the bulls back"
I'm the KING OF THE HILL I got ya QUICKSCOPIN'
in THE SHADOWS OF MORDOR prayin' and hopin'
for a hero like MARIO to bust you loose,
Jay's SNAKE'n' up the LADDER time to twist the noose

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.  

What ya think ?              
Me rhymes kink, bend and fold like TWISTER.
A wicked rhythm like DOUBLE DUTCH. Skip, skip.
Like EVEL KNIEVEL. Flywheel spinnin'.
Rev it up. Dump the clutch.        
See me grinnin'. Knockin' down the pin and..
SPIROGRAPH lines in me rhyme. I'm spinnin..
..out of control. You can't cope with me GYROSCOPE.
I bring you back to the beginnin'.*

Not mentionin' names. We're playin' games.
Energetic and poetic E.C. to blame.
Set the mic aflame. We burn it up now.
Set the timer click, click.

bulletproof vest.

Yet, I still bled.

Crossed my heart,

and held my head.



.

.                                                 what?
between MC hammer...
and men at work...
there's a choice?
come on...
you could have given
me an easier question,
like... Debussy
contra Satie...
or, like...
  egg yolk or egg white?!
point being...
i'd love to see
christopher lambert
play the role of
raiden in that... mortal kombat
game made into a motion
picture...
you know...
if i owned a PS2...
i'd still be a gamer...
but i never owned a PS2....
or the metal gear solid 2
gaming experience...
not the PS1 experience
fighting ****** mantis...
you know that hack / cheat...
when you switch controller
slots...
when ****** mantis is
giving his grandiose speech..
and you switch the controller
ports, so that in in the game
you're not predictable...
   final fantasy 7?!
completed it with a walk-through...
sorry... homework...
that being said:
all of Friday night and all of
Saturday morning...
and some Tenchu....
wacky-Jacky...
      cow later chow,
enter mein...
           choppers chop chop...
these days?
i game...
           when i take a ****...
i figured... if there are people who
take a book to the crapper...
i'll take a game...
    war robots....
      you know what's fascinating?
the interactive applicability of
a game...
                     team-work...
mesmerizing...
                the whole gaming
structure drifted from a narrative,
to a congregational dynamism...
solipsism unraveled...
i dig the whole team work,
while taking a ****...
love it... 5 stars review...
     but am i a gamer...
do i not think that
a.i. is a revamp of Pinocchio?
no...
     but metal gear solid?
a ******* solid game
on PS1...
       you would be talking to a gamer
if i was allowed to buy
a PS2 console...
         oh right...
  i read books and listened to music,
and ended up writing anti-routine /
anti-technicality poetry /
anti-rhyme poetics....
                                      my bad;
"we're" calling a revision
of chess in play;
yeah... sorry...
   i was never into paragraphs,
with dialogue interludes...
for me...
  poems were always above
a structural stature of paragraphs;
something to do with
haiku or... whatever came out of
Godzilla's mouth.

I brought you my still beating heart
In a bismol pink bedpan,
Your hands lifting from the gurney
Awaiting salvation through my touch.
In my visions I am seventeen.
I am seeing you for the first time at my work
And you make me laugh.
You reiterate the scarring in your soul and down your back
And I ask, rudely, if I may see some time.
You say sure,
But your face wishes that I had never asked.
In my wonders
I am eighteen and telling a group of people my age at a party
Why I am sober,
Because my body is weak
And I am not tempted.
Thoughts of you and my future swirl in my mind
But they do not connect.
I will try in vain for another year
Before I realize that maybe I need to sober up from you.
In my recent memory,
I'm sitting on the side of your bed
Hoping that you do not die.
But I'm half naked,
Underwear and undershirt the only things I have on
And your skin is too hot
And your voice sounds coked over
And your breathing is not a slow hum
But a ravenous wheeze
And I'm scared
And my breathing becomes torn.
I'm nineteen again
But now I am saying goodbye
Though you are still living
And a week earlier I had pledged myself to you forever.
You cry to me that you were saving for a ring
And I had hoped to hear that
But now that you've said it,
I can feel my stomach toss
Into the bedpan
Which houses my heart
In your hands,
I've taken my place among the dreadfully unbalanced
And the perpetually sad.
I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake
That is too late in the making to be remedied.

mother died today or maybe yesterday i can’t be sure  the telegram from the home says your mother passed away funeral tomorrow deep sympathy which leaves the matter doubtful it could have been yesterday - “the Stranger” Albert Camus

a misguided partiality exists inside me i feel safer around women maybe i’m fooling myself and women are equally capable of the brutal cruelties i associate with men i don’t know i guess i believe women hold themselves to a higher behavioral standard gentler more nurturing there’s another aspect to my belief women floor me i am totally vulnerable to a pretty woman but it must be stated my tastes run quite peculiar i prefer alternative looks and am put off by classic American glamour i guess the real deal is i’m a guy most comfortable among men watching World Series Sunday Monday Night Football despite the fact that if i were with a woman would be my greatest craving who cares what i think i apologize for opening my mouth

we are stranded by the side of road from out of nowhere a beat up gray truck pulls along side in a cloud of dust we cannot see driver from passenger side stubbly shaven mustached man wearing red bandana under tattered western hat in accented hoarse voice hollers out how much for the girl with terrified expression in her face her hand reaches for my arm i peer coldly into man’s eyes then glance away answering

a. what exactly do you have in mind

b. how much cash do you got on you

c. she’s not for sale

d. we need a ride

e. we’re lost do you have a cell phone

f. please leave us alone

g. all of the above

an extraordinarily attractive member of opposite *** runs into you on street in familiar tone of voice greets you speaking your name it’s been ages you look terrific i was just thinking about you the other day it’s such a wonderful surprise to see you do you have time to stop chat over coffee or drink i live quite near here please come over to my place let’s catch up i’d really love that this person then looks at you in a flirtatious seductive way yet you cannot place or remember where you know them or if you’ve ever known them you answer

a. yes

b. this is embarrassing i’ve forgotten your name

c. how do you know my name where do we know each other from

d. is it possible you’re confusing me with someone else

e. i have no idea who you are or what you want from me

f. all of the above

these are dark times every one acknowledges post-modernism post-911 is bleak jobless homeless callous frightful kali yuga no one nothing nowhere  is safe wars gruesome atrocities piracy blood diamonds **** mutilation theft deceit betrayal school yard bullying assassinations cyber espionage anti-depression drugs vicious video games why aren’t people making positive video games referencing cooperation affection happiness instead of Grand Theft Auto Vice City Call of Duty World at War Mortal Kombat what kind of world are we creating for future generations why does violence sell more than *** why is *** so unkind what kind of people are we better off dead they shoot horses don’t they what happened what’s happening why are we making this hell why aren’t we making better wiser more loving choices i don’t understand

in the late 1960’s early 70’s parents didn’t have money to buy their kids high school graduation gifts or perhaps the notion was not invented yet nobody had cars maybe a few guys i knew owned cars they bought with their own hard earned money everybody i knew who lived off campus and too far to bicycle hitch-hiked to school then hitch-hiked home every day for 4 or more years that’s how we all did it in Hartford i remember sitting in different adult’s cars indebted grateful looking thinking wondering will i grow up to be like him or her projecting connections

when i grew up it was a different time turn on tune in drop out in a way hippies were reactionary to all the modern progress atomic age we winged it by inexact methods that time is gone it is crucial at present to be coherent sober accurate mindful wakeful vigilant wary prepared 24/7 this history being written how will it be told i’ve been around long enough to know how these deceptions work we are all using feeding ripping off each other we give in to whoever wants us become whoever seeks to destroy us we disgust ourselves i’m astonished dumbfounded talk with me who are we please explain i beg you

who if i cried who would hear me among the angels even if one of them pressed me against heart i would be consumed in overwhelming existence for beauty is nothing but beginning of terror we are still just able to bear we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us every angel is terrifying – “2nd Elegy” Rainer Maria Rilke

Countdown to Armageddon precariously hinges
   potential apocalypse outcome, mere smattering days away
if the brazen, fierce-some dragon doth don
   trumps presidential throne -
   ships with whistling  Dixie missiles at bay
will be synchronized with aerial bombardiers
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   to parlay a view to unleash nuclear weapons on cue
destroying a vast swath of flora and fauna,
   and most life forms (inn oh cent), but pay hefty due
to assuage the aggressively cruel, enjoyably
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   growling at his goalie indubitably
   kick *** mindset worse than dengue fever will ensue
a combustible domino effect fueling global horror -
   analogous to kindling tinder logs smoke
   the color - jetblue streaming up fireplace flue
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
witnessing sovereign magnum opus trans
   forming much of animal and plant life into flakes of goo
far scarier than any macabre production
   dreamt up by human frightful scenario and no hero
she ma to rescue self or other from deadly debacle,
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   nor any safe haven such as a cool igloo
forsooth complete annihilation will far surpass
   any prior world war, no one will be spared,
   neither gentile nor Jew
which total mortal kombat, and attendant laying waste
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   organisms livingsocial instantaneously cremated,
   where ashes spread dispersed faster than Kudzu
rendering world wide web fetid, offal, and putrid
   far more noxious than the common loo
yet even this general description falls short to where mew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tinny sans hardy species (according to Google search);
   such as tardigrade, mummichog, and cockroach
decimating, heaving, leveling, poisoning
   every cubic inch of Earth evincing voluminous vaporization
   extant eradication emphatically nixed, punctuated, and radiated
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
   pulverization eviscerating the bowels of mankind,
   where nary a survivor could weather and withstand
   hollowed out no mans land bereft of sustenance or water
   where seeds of white lily when coalescence
   of oblate spheroid birthed, nursed, and weaned new
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
life especially proto **** sapiens
   and subsequent kin grunting with ah and oew
fast tracked primates, yet inherent within genetic coda
   (perhaps poison ingredient bubbled
  within primordial soup) - steeped quantum mechanical pew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
tar nation housing crucible-
   analogous to planetary size mortar and pestle) queue
sans predestination, where rue
brick, dogma, and fealty honoring justice slew
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
by paws of one cancerous, fractious and idolatrous Lothario,
   who opened Pandora Box (rigged shut tight) thorough
lee rendered civilization a footnote
   of cosmological history and universal view
-    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -    -   -    -
BUT.... eligible voters can choose alternate
   (Democratic) candidate -
   the majority will exhale a collective gustatory whew
and allow, enable and provide continuance of the human zoo!

I.

i'm always nostalgic when listening to the Mortal Kombat soundtrack... for a reason only i know... it's not that there was a shopping mall in Ilford (Essex... but there was the inner London border of the A406) so... perhaps: technically still London... i.e.
not Essex...  and it was a predominantly Jewish bit of London... Ilford... Barkingside... Gants Hill would showcase a Hanukkah Menorah on the roundabout: when the roundabout was still fun... as fun as the Gallows Corner roundabout still is... i.e.: no ******* traffic lights... gear up... front gears on 3 (of 3)... back gears on 3 (of 7)... imagining holding onto a fox's tail... or a big ask akin to a truck... line up on the outside of its body so the driver might see you in the rear-view window... what happens before the supposed "white flight" from an area? the Jewry are the first to leave... the Holocaust has sharpened their take on trends... demographic tides... it's not like the rest of the Semites (Ha'ha'king'Raabs) have them in the "good books"... intellect before a hard-on... i'm nostalgic because... i remember what Cranbrook Rd. used to look like... i remember what technology felt like... fiddly... Blockbusters... renting VHS video cassettes... the mantra: please rewind this cassette after watching it... so that the next person renting it will not have to rewind it... hardly a Luddite... i still prefer to fiddle around with cables connected to an MP3 player when cycling... i have nostalgia for late 20th century technology... wires... plugs... VHS... the ******* compact disk... i still have a hoard of those that i burn and "translate" into MP3... the Ilford of my youth... when there was still a visible presence of Jewry... before... once again: the division into the labyrinth of their diaspora... i can't count myself "lucky": or so entrenched... "we": the Polacks... number... at best estimate... around 815,000 on these isles... the Romanians have come... if we're not welcome... we won't outstay our welcome... but what became of Ilford: what it is now... little Bangladesh... i once had an "angel" in the Ilford OurPrice (whittle **** the Branson) started making his money via ****** Records having signed up Mike Oldfield: Tubular Bells or... the Exorcist Soundtrack... or... (the) Halloween soundtrack... in OurPrice i first bought this Mortal Kombat soundtrack... the sheath read (past participle: red... but not like the colour... ergo not reed: to read)... original motion soundtrack by George S. Clinton... i wasn't sold that... i was a whittle Hans back then: i'm still a Conrad... a white blonde beast... beside my still intact blonde moustache that my grandmother decided to call ginger (strawberry blonde)... and if i grow my hair long like a barbarian: a streak of blonde in the hair: ha... the accents of grey appearing... slow so ever slow... how mortality evaporates... caste in a clinging remark for... bones... good thing he... she... looked out for me when buying this CD... i was sold the proper soundtrack...: gravity kills... KMFDM... traci lords, orbital, psykosonik, geezer, sister machine gun, bile, ****** death, type o negative, *****'s day out... that's the first time a proper mistake was made...  second time... when Batman Forever came out... i was still the puppeteer king of solipsism... playing with figurines of superheroes... making random sounds and narrating what my hands were freely left to do: being available... and i wanted the proper... classical soundtrack... not the songs of: seal - kiss of a rose... U2... hold me kiss me, thrill me... i wanted... the OST... for... elliot goldenthal's fledermausmarschmusik... it's just over a minute long... such were the times... boys still played with figurines... i'm not going to blame myself: having ejected the Jewry from Europe... what came after? still people... but... it's hardly the sort of people that one could relate to: great food... hardly a people that will be willing to create Yiddish... yet still speak terrible ******... like my francophobia... i have a fear of speaking French: simply because i will not speak it with a French accent... i'll speak it at best as some Novak Djoković... but once you speak English with... well... i'm not going to spell out Scouser... pretend Essex-lad or Cockney-cockers... just this... generic London cosmopolitan... foreigner hiding a fake native... i can pull it off: but... to speak French... without a French accent? what's the point? it sounds: fair-enough... passable... but i'm used to the psychology of integration... to the point where i'm indistinguishable that a Scottish English teacher will not suspect i'm not an Englishman from the south when talking to me... while insulting two Polacks at a bus-station... hell... my affinity with my fellow ethnic clusters... oddly enough to see ****** first and white second... has to be the case... unlike the trouble in H'america of the collective mr. brown, mr. coco... mr. cinnamon... mr. auburn... but no herr nigeria etc. that's the "problem": if some Arab insinuates i look like a German... my fetish for the deutsche-zunge starts to boil... after all: i write in English but i think about... the migration of the Saxons... no... not the Pomeranians... or the Swabians... or the Rhine-dwellers... Ruthenians? still... that nostalgia for the technology that was available at the end of the 20th century... fiddly technology... none of this current: wireless radioactive ******* makes you want to engage in "things"... ethereal culprits... like that one time when Gants Hill roundabout had an Odeon cinema... by mistake i was sold a ticket to see the Little Princess... i sat through the horror... i was supposed to see Jumanji... but i saw through the horror... watching to old ladies knit... socks? throughout the whole flick... later i imitated Jonathan Edwards running down Coventry Road on a bouncing gallop... i never ran so fast as i did then... come to think of it... little... little princess... Manga... i must say... Manga has been a greater influence on me than Disney could ever be... ウロ津キドジ... obviously you won't find a katakana syllable-unit of TSU... it wasn't hard to find what the alternative was... TSU-NA-MI... TSU - a bit of a hieroglyph... it can't be written as a sound - vowel or consonant... between ア イ ウ エ オ  ン... i remember that summer... when i was eating fried chicken while my uncle was cleaning his Porsche... listening to either Californication by the R.H.C.P... stone temple pilots: art school g/f... or... how did these brats pull off frogstomp... in the assemble of silverchair?! well... TSU- i already arrived at... that ******* pseudo emoji... but how NA-MI became... what it already was...? ナミ? i used to play guitar... i still sometimes do... but when i remember how it sounds... to play silverchair's SHADE... eh... first irksome lesson... Black Sabbath's Black sabbath: let's forget the chords...

D|---------5-----------------------|
A|-----------------4---------------|
E|-3-----------------------­--------|

which is almost "something" akin to...
Atomic Rooster's: death walks behind you...
Deep Purple's: Black Night...
Spirit: when i touch you...
Free's: all right now...

II.

this can't be achieved: purely verbatim... although i'll look for the extract: from unbearable lightness of being - that encounter between Tomas & Tereza... eyes wide shut... slug mouths always open... insatiable hungers & subsequent delights at the relishes... did he prefer to have *** with his eyes closed... or did she... one of them was most certainly looking...

trouble with ***: there's no trouble at all:
i want to see as much as i might be allowed:
i want my eyes to burn...
since... stomaching enough *****:
i will never... exactly... see in 3rd person...
all that happens in a *******...
with one using my well hydrated little richard
and another sitting on my gob
for me to slobber...
all those 3rd person antics of the ****** are missing...
it's not so much fun if there
is that: envious parade of: it takes three to tango...
one will do...
even if i were a king Solomon...
there would always be a Queen Sheba...
there would always be a father:
a King David: the psalm renegade...
what wisdom from a man
with a harem?
ha...                                i'll just
expatriate myself to a time:
a posteriori... i'll detail all the facts...
after the deeds... wisdom for some comes
with a relief at finding regrets...
no Buddha to tow...
i'll die hungering for prostitutes...
Turkish Romanian...
Macedonian...
because... the English girls played
the game of nun...
no offence: but i i read offence
all over what was made available
for the Pakistani groomers of Rotherham...
girl... if you only asked...
i had all the banana skins
the *****... sure... i was missing
the Colombian fairy dust...
excuses, excuses... this Pontius Pilate
punishment of:
i am... to be absolved from the concept
of free will: from agency:
third person authority:
leverage a blame...
what a zombie-riddled life of welcome:
solo-sorrow...

oh hell... please ask the Mongolian horde
to invade the second time:
i have nothing to defend!
what i might have wished to defend is
already available on the free-market!
they're bragging about it...
choking as they go around...
   i'm surrounded by older women
telling me not to marry...
imagine that...
in the trenches during world war I...
there arrived a makeshift brotherhood...
women are ******* unto each other:
watch them starve for a place in an Ottoman
harem... secure... watch them turn into...
cannibalistic chickens in a courtyard of
farm...
where once there was this Jewish
matchmaker witch / aunt...
there's now... a woman who has
a son that married... while she tells her neighbour's
son: not to marry...
no problem... Rachel: RA-KX-EL...

-  oh what a loss of momentum...
that: what happened when pushing too much coagulated
ice into a narrow neck of a glass...
for ms. amber to play catch-up to what
i already arrived at with the wine...
and a sly beer...

oh right... he was looking at: the following list:

- Loch Lomond
- Zodiac (dolly alderton... i can use her
actual name... she uses it... in print)
- Milan Kundera
- *** after 13 years looking: thai surprise etc.
- Zeus: Swan...
- peek-ah-boo... at the barbers

payroll of journalists - poet: what priest?
lackey? the "sensibility" of journalists...
beside the opinion sections of
the weekend magazines...
no... not all the president's men typo... sorry...
type of journalists...
what's left?
simulating depression by:
listening to the hellraiser soundtrack
for a month: finding relief in some other music...

no... i was pretty much depressed for the number
of nights i put on christopher young's soundtrack
for a month... then i switched to the XXs
and some Trentemoller... etc.
i slept less hours... but upon waking i felt a Faroe Island
invigoration...

wait for the bracket: in & out...
most certainly in: "no" out...

- a pre-scriptum technical note: how best to approach this,
what will eventually become a collage
rather than a narrative cascade: column -
since (it) will hardly be worthy of teasing at
a paragraph...

however it will be approached:
it will most probably be approached with that
first: an impromptu by a goliath ****
done in two parts...

idiot me pushing an iceberg of cubes into
a tall weak glass...
obviously pushing them hard enough
to break the glass up
and leave with the index and middle
finger with a deep cut...
then... me writing this...
delayed by... my body to do its magic...
the bleeding to stop...
no... no plaster... no mastic fantastic...
hands washed...
paper towel wrapped around each finger...
applied pressure...

give or take... the time it takes
to "smuggle" 35cl of whiskey into my room...
god... how **** a bottle of liquor looks
in its first minutes out from
a refrigerator...
and when you pour it?
there's no: glug glug glug sound
of the top-head heavy: i.e. full...
it's liquid amber...
any loose liquid would ****** itself
like a cascade from the narrow
spear-head of the bottle neck..
but not ms. amber... sub-zero...

give or take... 10 minutes...
now my fingers are itchy again...

... if you want the proper version... please see
https://allpoetry.com/poem/16014743-two-bleeding-fingers---in-cervisia-felicitas--PENDING...­-UNFINISH-by-Matthew-Conrad

believe me, you grow out of it
(*******),
   you reach the natural conclusion
as women do,
    experiencing menopause,
your's the least actrattive cunterpart,
no choice...
          you just grow out of it...
you just get bored
                       you just grow out of it...
it literally become a case of
   huh?
     yep, it becomes a hmm equation...
and if you're not married,
  5p.m. feels like 9a.m.,
                         the **** is going on?
fyck, uleterior motive for spelling
   thick...
           so what the fyck's going on?
pop culture... fuckle me...
                   send some more sleeping
pills my way,
    so i can pretend to be in a
heavyweight boxing match
         fighting both klitschkos
   at the same time, in street fighter mode
of pretending to be blanka /
            zangief / vega?
    i'd **** over him
               any-day-of-the-week,
such **** ******* /
     dhalsim - mr. stretch-armstrong /
                           mr. fantastic...
tekken never conjures up
an equation
      that music does
   i.e. the beatles (street fighter)
vs. the rolling stones (mortal kombat)...
tekken never really made it
         for "equality" status:
                        equal status, i get it;
nonetheless, men tend to grow
out of the practice of *******,
  just like women
   are automated to experience
menopause...
                       you just get bored
of the hand as ****...
                       d'uh dummy dum dum
+ a mongolian harmonica
    (index moving up & down
with the lips perforking
          the motorboat effect,
encapsulated within the brrrrrrrrr;
sure, the missing trill of the r in english...
    and there are no diacritic indicators
that the letter ought to be the sole-source
of vibration...
           hence no roll with the umlaut ä -
   sounds like chinese wow wow wow yo
  boat...
             yoyo that ****?
      count that as two:
          hämmer, i.e. haamer...
          i.e. hāmmer...
              or ha'mmer... so what's with
the trigonometry of the m?
  how many more times do you have
to wave a goodbye?      
                  but the scandi- version?
middle-class english,
   i love their slang,
        they slang a longer word into
a shorter word,
   but never bother to adffix a hyphen
for invigorative measures...
    it always seems to be: oxford approved;
if americans are yanks...
                   the british? wanks;
jiggy-jiggy-mah-jig.
         totality bound by sources found
    in either peckham or hackney;
oh right, the roll...
  an aangstroom, i.e.  ångström...
                    linguistic ballistics...
        **** gets funnier when writing fiction,
the irish and the slav prefer the hyphen
of differentiation in a convo, i.e.
  - and so
- so what?
the post-germanic tribes of anglo saxons and
americans?
    they prefer the inverted commas
and the he said...
                          e.g. "i was saying," he said.
yes, i know that's a fictional character
"speaking",
     but you could at least count,
   toward expressing the correct arithmetic,
i.e. 'i was saying,' he said;
                            yes,
i know no one was saying anything,
             you were thinking someone
was saying something you "said"...
          so why was it never the irony of "citing"
with only two index fingers,
   as opposed to
         two index and two middle fingers?
i swear to god, that's not how
you quote...
                    if you're ever going to quote;
it can only mean
   a beginning of ambiguity,
   by invoking "     ", you're making war
on the thesaurus.

eating breakfast in a long time,
half a teaspoon of sugar,
coffee black, three marzipan
nuggets coated in chocolate,
two cigarettes...

and wondering where did the time
go since silverchair
released their debut frogstomp (1995),
or what happened to the offspring
after americana (the song *pay the
man still wasn't a commercial song),
or the sudden thrill of red hot chilli
pepper's reunion with john and
californication, deftone's white pony,
or when buying the mortal kombat
soundtrack, and someone nice enough
at our price putting a different c.d.,
not the score, but the soundtrack
with actual songs: type o negative
(subsequently ****** kisses),
monster magnet, k.m.f.d.m., and beside,
days with cassettes (m.o.d.'s mr. oofus
ha ha) - and gigs, tool in glasgow
with that awesome german girl
who i gave water to in exchange for a kiss,
wolfmother in edinburgh, a few gigs
in london (papa roach, disturbed,
type o negative, iron maiden, the offspring,
american head charge, rammstein,
slipknot, korn, red hot chilli peppers -
when that arena at canary wharf was still open)...
but then there was verdi's  la traviata in st. petersburg,
and aerosmith in hyde park, and boy
did depeche mode rock hyde park too...
i mean, most these influences came from
my uncle, but i can't give him credit
for king crimson, jethro tull and other
prog bands (early genesis, for example)...
or the jazz...
but it's just annoying to not have seen
the holy wood tour by m.m.,
or not seeing slayer when jeff hanneman
was still alive - after all i pledged the
tribulation of growing long hair in school
to him, one day, looking at the band's poster,
i was 15 then and became known as chewbacca
for a while.

oh god, how could i forget, the year was sometime in
the 1990s, en vogue released their debut single:
don't let go...
fell in love with it...
                as truant i say true:
before the **** impregnated
the white boy economy,
                 i made it to university on
two thousand and a spare allowance,
studying chemistry you get the hours,
**** knows the humanities...
any self-respecting humanities
student learns humanism the hard way:
psychiatry - not writing novels:
but doing social service - **** pay,
the man is happy,
happy girls of 12 month cycles
disillusioned suddenly by Papa Farmer
Heidegger - not really...
i could sneeze Hegel through my ***
and never get a **** from any
French philosopher's nostril:
born to ****, born to ostrich it...
and that's about as much as i'm avowed to hit...
it was the 1990s, the Poles were part
of the cultural shift including the world war
ii veterans, safety in west London,
then the kebabs came by,
and the kebabs fried the reputation,
they said: SO LI DA RI TY!
                  i remember being 9 at the time,
or whatever age suits the chronology,
en vogue was better than the prodigy,
the jilted revulsion to stagecraft,
Michael Jordan did more than Broccoli Adam
alias O,
                  silver back and the safety net of
philandering Clinton: let the white
boy eat ****... you let the white
boys do the annals and you the *******
to do the opposite of the Christian bypass:
let's the ***** experience it and rhetoric anti-gay
statements...
                       a  bit harsh, a bit too harsh mate...
you use the girl to manifesto anti-gay laws...
i wasn't born with **** stimulation,
but would i agree or disagree with it?
i wouldn't ask a girl to do **** with me...
me? too much pleasure from taking a ****,
who do you hang around with?
                           the Schnitzel Patriots?
but if there be  god i swear:
i decided to buy en vogue's single rather than
the album: music for the jilted generation...
then came about breathe when i
was discovering type o negative
             with the mortal kombat..
then i let gaming sorta sizzle, until i met a gamer
girl... no phobia... the status encouragement
said: read two books, play 33 video games...
1990's England... was it so different as it is today
or was it because i was a a kid born in the 1980's
seeing my first double deck bus aged 8 in 1994?
we never got the mafia Caribbean treatment
worthy of a carnival, i was never part of the Empire,
only a cause for war...
                 the truants moved to Scotland,
we got east London, or something resembling the east...
i loved the 1990s... the music esp.,
                                    well, that was then...
it ain't that anymore... back in the 1990s i'd
rather have listened to en vogue rather than
the spice girls' paedophilia chant
Savile's case bankrupted the b.b.c.,
   they're really trying, showing shows
from 2015 and earlier in 2014,
                                          they're broke!
broke little *******! and the chant is:
i thought she was administering consent with
that ***-selfie while i ****** off..
                i thought the age of consent was there
at the time, the age where you get to abuse
your own body...
      apparently that's slave talk: your body
isn't yours.
                     Huxley was a prophet in his own right,
but never mind the intricacies -
                 there weren't any...
she posts consent he posts shadow...
                    in the extremity of all possible laws:
we defend the defendants rights to an exclusion of conscience,
because, god-forgiving we only succumbed to the idea
of not thinking: i.e. we preferred the idea of god
managing us rather than the idea of thought...
    but it was nice in the 1990s, the brave few that made it...
then the serfs came when the Union expanded....
                         it really doesn't matter now...
apathy Regina, pathology Rex;
                                better fix the toilet
before the **** comes down alright...
                              as one half human potential said:
half of me would have made a quarter of the man
and woman involved in obstructing me teaching
in rhapsodies...
                                 oh well...
born a Glaswegian pauper, always a Glaswegian
pauper...
                       and sooner my fate among the karma
fate of words lost in Herr Censor,
              than me knocking on tombstones and saying:
your life?
                  i'm not that much interested, to be honest,
i care to remember what single c.d. i bought
in the 1990's rather than what could have ignited in
me a neo-socialist sense of community
coming from a communist society, undermined
by a society trying so hard to make the perfect advert;
what a load of *******!

the point is: i don't want to write in the style of j. joyce's finnegans wake; but i am, and i feel terrible for doing it... so... m'eh?

you listen to these talks, like you might watch
a football match...
   the art of rhetoric - ars rhetoric(æ):
that isolation of the grapheme stresses the point
that homosexuals are better at talking
than men who consecrate themselves
on the bias that will probably lead to a widow.
they're better at it, and there's no argument
for it: it's a bit like passing the olympic torch
from ****-to-****-to-mouth-to-tongue-to-head-to-ego;
i'll come to the modern notation of that unit
in a minute...
  but oh so rare, walking from the supermarket
and finding a book propped on a... thing?
it's situated in essex, england, and in these parts
you can have this "garden" in-front of
your house, and there's this "hadrian's" wall
isolating this patch of green:
   that's why i said thing: because it's not a fence
in the traditional sense...
    so you're walking back from the supermarket
with a bottle of becks beer and a litre of *****
and mixer in your rucksack (5pence duty stamp
on using plastic bags, remember that)
  and you see a book propped on "hadrian's" wall
(because it is just that: a joke),
well not in this instance, this is a case of a semi-detached
outer-suburban household... and there's
  this book propped on a "fence"... and it's dark...
am i going to nick it / "steal" it?
last time i checked, i didn't believe in *hegel,
last time i checked: if i'm in a public place, i.e. a road,
i'm going to use the advantage of someone's mistake
(or intention?) and take possession of the thing;
a bit like... you find a 20quid banknote in a puddle...
are you going to wave it about and shout:
who does it belong to?     would you?
         well... hegel can go **** himself and his
philosophy of right... i can't believe that mere lecture
notes inspired communism, i simply can't believe it,
i mean: it's astouding that it ever occured,
but still... it's so rare to find books on the streets...
i've heard plenty about disowned dogs and that dog
shelter in Battersea... i ought to know, i was bound
to paving slabs on one of their roof extensions...
my grandfather told me this story about how he was
walking through a forest with my uncle (his son)
and found a hanged dog... someone thought it real
funny to tie the noose so the dog was tiptoeing
toward death while suffocating on the noose...
i've had worse trauma... like when walking my doberman
and he bit into **** and what was revealed was
a nest of parasites, at best described: wriggling...
clearly you can build-up a natural aversion to this world,
which is by no surprise the original source of
the concept of god... you start from there, and work
your way down.
    now i'm seriously digressing, ars rhetoric(æ)...
like ha ha crow's ca ca? or is that ka ka ka?
ku klux clan... mortal kombat... whatever.
                just about as much sense when listening
to classic.fm and hearing an "oohbow" concerto
in some minor or major key (i don't remember which
one it was)... but like a blind-man fiddling
with an elephant (the modern day version of
the male grææ... as seen in homer, as seen in macbeth...
but those were 3... i'm talking 5)...
  i also thought about fiddling with the "orthography"
(that term usually denotes the aesthetic practice
of adding diacritical marks, which english doesn't:
otherwise known as the **** of ιota)...
   i could see a clarinet perfectly, clear distinctions (i mean);
but an oh-bow?                    oboe?
    how can these two variations not yield the same
pronunciation if not via the tetragrammaton?
            clarinet in jazz     horns in ska-punk,
ladies to the left, gents to the right...
                     clearly my idea of **** schizoi creates
more competent understandings of a human,
who is insapiens...
                   ****, talk about libido, but to this extent?
hmm... so the ιota was ***** by a diacritical mark
that's practically disjoined from an umlaut...
   see the arithmetic ι i ï? otherwise known as the ee
in: i need to take a ****... or the boo-boo word of ***.
   the same thought approached me when
i contemplated the acute version of N (en) - ń,
variations include: close approximates of knee,
then vary through to: me me me expressed in a nagging
way...
                   oh right... words that have this acute:
     day... dzień...
then they'll call it cultural appropriation, and i'll
call it: cultural integration.
                  but ń did something, it revealed the **** of
ιota...  it's this enforced diacritical mark on the greek
letter (and j) that doesn't exist on other letters
as it sometimes should...
       but it all depends on the following rule

                            ae  i  ou
                     ­             x

x is treated as a consonant for it's own sake, i could have
inserted some other consonant, but the stress
is how and when you apply diacritical marks,
given the stated example of the diacritical mark hovering
over n.
               and really? the **** of ιota is involved, which
probably invoked the complexity of the anglo sprechen
to such an extent that it spread for far and wide...
    why would i even put a diacritical dot over s?
what would that represent, for ****'s sake?
                                                           ­               i!
in polish you'd say that as         e! oddly or not so
oddly enough.
           but there is a collision happening
   given the predestination concept of i (what culture
would appropriate that, if not the most hostile /
successive one?) -
                 the acute diacritical mark on the n
disappears depending where the (enforced half umlaut of)
i is placed...
     for example in the word        no....     nie...
that dot above the iota just ate the acute over the n...
    then back to the word for day           dzień....
it's at the back, so the aesthetic twists into an σς scenario...
(sigma sigma)...
                  nudzi (he bores people)...
        nagi (he's naked)...
                            i could really do with a macron on that a,
who knows, maybe language encoding really is
worth symphony complexity: or is that why i'm
jealous of music composers?
               i'm just trying to look for a word
that encompasses my concept of ń....
     a real kinder sprechen example as simple as 1 + 1 = 2,
evidently i will not find it and only come up with
something as "simple" as 1 + 1 = 3.
on one side the sensual beast,
on the other a reasoning ***** -
as you age the less you sense, but at the same time
the more you reason; in my case it happened exponentially
thanks to Chernobyll (it did begin with one of
the scandinavian countries being able to record
radiation... in poland you had a park, in a small town...
and half the trees were in summer and half
were in autumn):
   because if you **** things up on an atomic scale
you're not going to exactly see a tornado, in a specified
location for adrenaline junkies to go and film it!
then there was this idea that i had
               about certain layers of language,
   braille, sign-language, covert talk and open talk,
basically boiling down to honesty, and the latter to
dishonesty...
    so this book i found yesterday... about as rare as finding
a 20quid banknote...
             now i seriously believe this book is a pillar
to language... right up there with the dictionary and
the thesaurus...
            published by c collins (obviously)...
and its sole author: nigel rees (couldn't be bothered with
italics, so i used the colon)...
          ah **** it, it's only descriptions of the cover,
the book is paperback so it doesn't matter...
although what does is...
   the entry (to be) in the same boat (page 347)...
that's why i was sniffing the book up yesterday
(bibliophiles' prime fetish, after ******* the books)...
    the entry originated from cicero
in 53bc... in the original latin     in eadem es navi,
later used in 1941ad after pearl harbor
(funny u, look: harbour)    - of consequences
                                     roosevelt said, churchill quote(d).

- title -
yeti-jabba
- body -
no jabba-jedi:
no yetti: igloo makers. 502 bad gateway bypass

i knew a band the name of sister machine gun
existed since... the original Mortal Kombat movie
came out in 1995...
i remember buying the WONG album
in the Our-Price: a sublet of ****** Megastores...
you know... a time when men could have
a second outlet... a music store...
now? what's left? football stadiums?!
   it was like going to church back in the day...
you're spend an hour browsing through
the CDs... i really think the vinyl revolution:
the 2nd coming of vinyl happened too late...
if it happened just a bit earlier...
there would still be a HMV / a ****** Megastore
on Oxford Street... instead of what they have
now... some cheap *** shop that probably
sells fake Primark clothing, items under £1...
mobile phone skins... whatever women buy
to hoard... or to simply spend money on:
that isn't food...
                              oh man... the memory of HMV
and ****** on Oxford St... it's another dimension...
but at the time... the music industry wasn't really
focused on reigniting a man's need for vinyl...
liquorice spinning disks...
   if they jumped in early... figured out the market...
coupled the selling of vinyl with... a digital code...
so you could also download the record you just bought...
personally? i'm a man...
there's never too many books in a personal library...
my own library? could shame the public library
of Romford... my record collection?
that too could shame the public library of Romford...
from what i heard...
****** people get paid 40zl for stashing a(n) Ukrainian:
per day... so the fact that there are not currently
over one million Ukrainians in Poland...
that the population of Warsaw has increased by a 5th
in side... follow the money:
people are actually getting paid to hosts these poor souls...
the poor souls are also given an allowance...
i think i once wrote as a joke:
that Orc joke... racial stereotyping Orcs that's running
runs on the internet: they're Africans...
in Middle-Earth... where's Mordor?
east? right... right... the Ural Mountains?
the Mongolian Invasion... are the Orcs "black"?
or... a hybrid of the Mongols and the reinvented people
the Mongols conquered?
who conquered the Mongol onslaught on
Egypt? the Mamluks... what's that famous quote?
the people of the steppe conquered the people
of the steppe... since the Mamluks (Mamelukes....
Mameluks) were slaves of the Caucasian region...
north eastern Europe... blah blah etc.
but we used to have an outlet...
going to a football match these days is a chore...
i sometimes watch it on t.v.: but i can decipher
the chants of the away fans...
on the t.v.: your support! your support!
your support is ******* ****!
  who the **** are you! who the **** are you!
or at Fulham... esp. at Fulham...
  just before the goalkeeper is about to kick the ball:
oooooooh.... you're ****: aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa(s)h!
sizzle ensemble...
what a tiresome day... woke up at 7am...
had a coffee and a sunset...
a cigarette too...
       went into town for another coffee and a burger
egg muffin at McDonald's...
ate the wrap on a bench in the sun...
crunch... crunch...
           when i my grandparents had an Alsatian...
we're feed it egg-shells... sprinkled over meat...
right... i'm a dog now?
woof...             woof...
               sure... no problem...
i'll eat this extra fibre...
                     it truly is a ****** gig... leave the house at 8am...
come back at 8pm... well... 9pm...
pay £10 for fuel... earn? ****... maybe £40?
it's extortion... but... i can be fazed when i'm
in a good moon... i get to watch a football match for
free... and i get literary fuel...
     yeah... trouble this time round...
not that grand... 4 Ipswich supporters bought tickets
to enter the Oxford Stand...
a minor punch-up... i was yawning throughout...
not that i'm boasting... but yawning while the crowd
gets all exited... when the away team score...
turn your back on the home supporters
and smile at the tourists...
         that usually calms them... eye  contact...
chimpanzee ****...
                    and when the home team scores...
turn your back on the tourists... pretend to be crucified
for about a second... smile... just smile...
make eye-contact...
              i should have been born to be a *******
bus driver... back where i was born...
i always wanted to become a bus driver...
        i should have been a bus driver...
**** me... a aiming at becoming a chemistry teacher?
slightly boring... if you told me:
become an English teacher...
   then again... whatever...
time eclipses...
            it's good to be tired: you reach a ****** of relaxation
that's otherwise unavailable...
plus... me... tired? i'm *****...
all those selfies my would-be g/f of a *******:
duck lips... spectacles: hot teacher fantasy...
they worked the first time i came home
and ****** off "suffering" from constipation...
on the throne of thrones... eased up into some cleavage
and *** photographs... then looked at the photographs
she sent me of her face...
yeah... nice... second time...
i had to have a quickie... with Teanna Trump
and Harley Dean... because... lately...
i'm all into that interracial ****...
                     blondes put me off... botox blondes...
fakery blondes... bleached **** and *****...
if she isn't... licked by the sun a little...
the whole world is going full Brazilian: mind you...
i'm tired: but i'm *****...
but there's not chance of me having ***...
i need to let off steam... anyway...
but the first mistake the guys at Our-Price made was
selling me the "wrong" record...
the Mortal Kombat soundtrack... with bands like...
Sister Machine Gun... Type O Negative...
when it came to buying the Batman Forever soundtrack...
no... i didn't ask for a sly... a substitute...
to the CD i originally wanted...
i didn't want any U2...
    that was when i was still playing with figurines
of superheroes on my bedroom floor...
giving them ****** narratives...
well... when you're a boy... there are not smartphones...
not internet... you play with toys...
i didn't need a ******* batman forever soundtrack...
with U2 being invoked...
the Mortal Kombat soundtrack?
that... that was... i have to admit...
an overlord moment of someone seeing me and saying
to themselves: this boy... needs to have his knowledge
of music... expanded...
but with the batman forever?
i was actually after Elliot Goldenthal's
     Fledermausmarschmusik.... that's... what... i... was...
after... to play with my ******* toys...
oddly enough... each time i *******...
i get a whiff... of Khedra's scent...
i ******* into her: by her own permission...
now... hmm... sniff sniff...
             i smell her body through my: "junk"... *****...
get paid come the first few days of April...
i'll follow up with her: so... that... dinner...
and... the night spent in a hotel room... that's on?
otherwise? sure... i don't mind the hour...
i'm not a Duracell bunny...
it's not like there' a magic ultra-violet button akin
to the political commanders having a magic red button
for the nukes: when it comes to hard-ons...
lucky for me: the right sort of demure...
it's a great sort of "fake"... just stand there...
tensing your shoulders... itching to punch your shadow...
by way: punching yourself... fold your hands...
i don't even have to get a *******
by giving fans the "direct" treatment of authority...
just cross your hands... stand sort of proud...
sort of tall...
better have retained my status as a roofer...
thank god i'm only doing this to get non-familial
references...
on the way back from Oxford...
we sort of just... grunted... the least amount
of conversation i ever experienced...
then again: there were no women in the car...
there were only four guys...
         some comment on traffic:
any update on your grandpa?
                     yeah... that wasn't too bad...
the shift...
                          the supervisor was relaxed
texting while driving...
     put the heating on... real high...
then put the cooling real low...
thank **** he turned it off...
   some traffic on the M25 after four cars crashed...
Dan: so, Matt... what are your plans for tonight?
Matt: oh you know, Dan... just chill out...
have a drink or two... when you get to be 35...
clubbing with girls that are 18 is not much fun...
no cultural references that stick...
i can't be mindful of keeping minors in check...
blah blah: and more blah blah on silent mode...
why do people always seem to want to talk
to break the tension?
surely... just shutting up and being content
with oneself: with one's own presence on silent-mode
is enough to satisfy others: yeah, i'm here...
and yeah: i don't have to somehow feel uncomfortable
by something having to talk... right?

shut the **** up...
"promoted" to the shotgun position in the car...
i like silence... i like not talking...
plus? his grandfather is faking it not having
cancer... so... any insight? any new details?
my grandfather died only 2 years ago...
relatable language...
but my grandmother was a *****...
come again? a different sort of language:
i have no sympathy for her...
she made my grandfather die feeling like:
no one cared for him...
           her son? m'ah... "unkhle"... will not leave her
feeling much more than she already invested
in...

what the **** would i need the typical high street for?
more... shoes? more clothes?!
more mobile phones?!
                 you ****** off with the music shops...
i don't need Oxford St. to exist...
it's a bit like finding the Church going extinct
a second time...
            hell... whiskey sells in shady parts of society...
i don't date: i never thought about dating...
after finding the right sort of ****
in a *******...
      i stopped thinking about that bogus dream...
it's great... let's create a funnel of experience...
some will get through: some will not...
totaling society: some crash...
     come burn... come Braun.

What's up brother, how have you been feeling?

I know it's been a while since we shared our true feelings.

I know that problems can stack and smash into a glass ceiling

And when glass breaks it's never too appealing.

we have to pick up the pieces

**** feels like a fishing pole that keeps reeling

But on the real, if the damage was in a deck of cards would you keep dealing?

This is coming from a kid who barely speaks but keeps listening

******* doesn't shine when it walks it glistens

Then attracts people by the pieces it has missing

We fill in the gaps, by doing some of this, some of that.

Not because we want to, but because we want to adapt From the feelings that lack and haunt us from the past.

I'm truly sorry that your dad passed away, I'm sure things get harder every single day. But there's just one thing that I want to say, I know he wants to see you with a smile on your face, I know he loved you in every single way, I know this because people who love each other think the same.

And as long as you're here I will never stay away, always stay awake, our past will never fade away.

I remember when we use to play, games on the Nintendo, that controller was made of glue because we never let go. Bomber man, Mortal Kombat, Duck Hunter & all that! Always causing a commotion on the games we would focus...little kids watching toons watching moving a like hocus pocus.

Animorphs was the ****, so was tales of the crypt, I remember you did that move on my neck like the Xena chick. In 10 seconds I would be dead, then you turned It off like a switch.

Every move I would twitch, you were just well equipped with punches and super kicks, all your moves were simply ****, bomb-diggity-bomb I mean lethal. You were a ninja mastermind Who had killed million people.

Then you would sit back and act like you didn't do ****

But when mom and ***** came around that was it.

Super belts for the whoopin, rice & beans they were cookin, rice & beans in a napkin then pocket, when they weren't looking.

Not saying there cooking was bad.
That's all we every had.
And **** I'm really glad that's not all they every gave use

Good lessons were taught, we learned them a little later. And If I could go back in time, I wouldn't change our behavior, past moments or memories, because then we would never see that I'm a part of you and are a part me.

Not necessarily a picture perfect family but **** the picture if all it speaks vanity.

Where both in a family tree but your  branch to me is important.

You have been an inspiration for me to go forth with.

All this technology, honestly when I saw you working with computers I wanted to be. Apart from what you where doing even when we where doing different things and just moving.

Trying to find our identities, reckless teen, I can see that what you where doing was never seen. In trouble by seventeen. I thank you for keeping me away from the streets.

Always living inside a lesson learning from your mistakes will soon bring progression. I know I haven't been that expressive, but please take this a compliment not an insult to contend with. Even if we head off into our own directions I know that we will always be connected.

Trapped in a 90's british pub
with a wide open tab,
for the duration of eternity.
Curry chips, and curly wirly's,
and pint, after pint, after pint.
Karaoke, and loose bints,
bangers and mash,
bang her in the loo, and a dash of bitters
in my scotch and soda.
MORTAL KOMBAT!!!!!
Too.
Chain smoking ****
that Cannot Cause Cancer,
and slamming my stick
on the Snooker table.
Where did you come from?
Where did you go?
Where did you come from?
Cotton-Eyed Joe.
Where's my friggin' Thai food!?
Look into my Magic Eye
and you will see Heaven.

WARNING!/
Probable triggers of your possible pasts/
Apparently normal part, emotional part - the haunted self/
Polyfragmented Dissociative Identities/
Complex Post-Traumatic Stress, Borderline Personalities/
Disordered; the New World Order out of chaos/
Porcelain face of forty thousand yard stare back in shattered reflection/
Scab on the entrance door deadbolt? Pick it; Operation PAPERCLIP/
MK-ULTRA isn't a new Mortal Kombat project.../

MK-OFTEN repeated/
MK-OFTEN repeated/
Then history repeated itself upon the altar/
& misery loves company, creating alters/
STOP!/
Death to fake gods!/

Black magick occultist witchcraft pagan idol worship/
Vile serpent in the grass on the left-hand path of falsehood/
Western esotericism, eastern mysticism, philosophy/
Satanic black mass rituals spawning alter-fragment offspring/
Cult following the offerings of sacrificial lambs/
Ripping off the wings of monarch butterflies to break the sheep/
Sacred temple of the mind desecrated by the alien/
Invading personal space you couldn't pay to get in.../

THEY LIVE/
WE SLEEP/
They give; we keep.../
Going through the motions, not wanting to know reality/
Physical, mental, emotional, spiritual/
ABUSE/
Don't illuminate me/

Masons aren't free/
The Central Intelligence Agencies/
Plant disinformation to make it seem/
Like it's all some crazy conspiracy/
In theory./

Take me back to the times when I didn’t know what I know now.
Take me back to the days where I didn’t know that I existed in a cruel world.
Take me back to where the only faces I naturally smiled at were the people
who truly loved me.
Take me back to the days when my Queen-sized bed was a white crib
and slept for as long as I wanted.
My parents did everything for me while I just smiled and giggled.
Take me back to the times when my car was a stroller and the gas that
kept it going was my parent’s arms.
Take me back to the time when having fun meant riding my bike or scooter
around the park.
Take me back to the days when the only things worth chasing were bubbles
before they got away.
Take me back to the times where the only games I was used to was Dragon Ball Z or Tekken
or Mortal Kombat.
Or games on the websites of Cartoon Network, Disney Channel, or Nickelodeon.
Take me back to the days when the only words to describe boys were annoying or cute.
Take me back to the days when the only friends I knew I had was my teddy bear
or my blanket.
Take me back to the days when the only color I was concerned about was the my favorite one.
Take me back to the days when my devices of entertainment were dolls, toy cars, and
an easy bake oven.
Take me back to the days when the only puzzle pieces to put together were ones my
parents purchased for me.
Take me back to the days where my thoughts were what was for dinner or what I was
going to wear the next day.
Take me back to the days of nap time.
Take me back to the days where the only stories I enjoyed hearing were from Dr. Suess or Eric Carle.

I know I couldn’t wait to grow up.
But I’d give anything for one day of the simplicity I wasn’t thankful enough for.
#OWL'S WORLD
#OWL'******br>

I hope the memory of you fades away eventually
but as I am laying in bed instead of counting sheep
I count the reasons you should be with me-
I count the things you do that reminds you of me
the traces I have left behind in your mind.
My eyes close.
1- I hope every time you play Mortal Kombat
you remember I was the one who convinced you to buy it.
and every time you lose you remember I was better then you.
2- Every song on the radio has my name etched in the background
and that saxophone solo you like so much spells out my name
in the crescendos as if it was the same tone of my ******.
3- When you lay awake at night stressing about work in the morning
as you're still high from the hits you take before laying down,
I hope you reach next to you in hopes to find my outline there-
I also hope you don't find it.  
4- in this journey of yours to find yourself again you are reminded it would've been better with me there, rooting you on with every single thing you accomplish.
5- I hope you lay awake at nice missing my voice telling you goodnight and missing my lips as they kiss you to sleep.
6-  I hope you remember I was your greatest lullaby and that you never slept as soundly as you did with me next to you.
7- and that all your ******* exes were just reminders of how much better you had it with me.
8- how you actually had something with me and not just an imaginary preconceived love you didn't have to put any effort into.
9- that you realize I wasn't something you actually did put a lot of effort into.
10- I am falling asleep finally as the anxiety fades from my memory and I remember I love having my bed to myself and not having to worry if you're thinking of me.

1- I roll over and the bear you bought me for christmas speaks to me in a voice I hardly remember. "I love you Amanda"
2- I'm half sleepy and I smile as the thought of you kissing my back and telling me goodnight creeps its way into my mind.
3- Loving you became the only thing I wanted to do right, everything else was just background music.
4- Loving you became the only thing I wanted to do right, but you thought you only did wrong so I became background music.
5- I am having anxiety again as the thought of you clouds my judgment and I begin to stop breathing again.
6- I can't see the figures in front of me or the images on the tv screen I am low again.
7- pacing back and forth in my room trying not ***** the thoughts of you out of my mind, get out of my mind.
8- I look in the mirror and realize this is what you did to me.
9- I was a frail excuse for a women, just longing for the same admiration I gave. I loved you differently than you loved me.
10- we never loved each other in the way we needed. I always felt like I loved you a little more. Like I was a little too much and you were never enough and that these hands could only grip yours in a certain way or would pull back and just put them in your pockets.
10- I hope you find me in those pockets and when your hands get sore from working too much that you remember I never made you work so much for this your hands hurt. I made you better. I made you worse.
10- I am cradled on the floor now hoping to find you there, but you're not.
10- I wonder how this is any different than when we were together.
10- I find myself repeating the same mistakes over and over again.
10- I just want to sleep. So instead of thinking of you, I start to count sheep and I realize those sheep were your disguise all along.
I am done letting the thoughts of you control me
we're not together-
and it makes me realize everything I've sacrificed for you.
I try to count sheep again.
but there aren't any left.

Me a run around deh place with out
a facemask with my Toyota corolla
Yah a smell yah breath because of corona
Me ah see a gal ah rona
she tell  meh she sista name mona
She ah ware a red dress and deh with deh owner
The thing ah pass name
Corona corona corona
We ah drink with me friends me is deh owna
Me deh with deh gal and me get a bonner
She tell me she want me to bone her
We at the hotel she said she want it in her hola
she ah halla in bed and she name mona mona mona  
She ask me who is me me tell she i am deh landowna
She ask me wha business meh do i tell she i is a mine owner
She want money i tell she Things nah do because of  
Corona corona corona
The thing ah jump from owna to owna
Yah nose a run but yah nah know is corona
corona corona corona
Yah a recover thinking is a cold but is corona
Nuff people ah dead than deh owna
Yah nah know who is deh owna
Deh owna deh owna de owna
Waring a mask looking like a doctor looking for a blood donor
Saving Lives of with the blood of corona  corona
Lady in the bus and cough everyone think she name rona
The man without deh a mask talking to rona
He go home to he wife with rona
The wife nah know but rona
Corona corona corona
Yah belly ah hut yah nah know is corona
Yah kiss yah friend she now got corona
Yah deh work with corona  corona  corona
We get bat ears because of corona  corona
We turn ninja and fight war with corona corona corona
Mortal Kombat with corona  corona  corona   corona   corona  
Ware a mask because of corona   corona   corona  
Blue ***** on yah face corona corona

about my childhood
and left me naked on my bed

twitter won't stop me from this pain
Mortal Kombat doesn't feel the same
my youth, my eyes, my thoughts, my dreams, and my ******* brain
tell me how can one man stay sane?
When they swallowed their imagination
for corporation money
and left us with a staggering minds of a sheep
and a soul that doesn't bleed

thoughts spilled out of my memories
my soul left for dead for centuries
gave myself a long nap
questioning my existence formed gap
wake up wake up wake up

I don't blame myself for my sad existence
beyond the ageing testimony between my childhood and my grave
but yes i buried my youth under the stars
it faded and disappeared with the birds and the flowers of our time
left it in an early morning cartoon show
cat n mouse

pathetic brillance

roller blades and computer rooms
nostalgic backdrop inside my head
crumpled beneath the nights and the sunrise

what a sad way to die?
fap, fap, fap

truth.

social reality-- numbness boyhood dreams
beyond the lost souls dreaming for the highest beam
lost and found? no
life goes on

Thy birth on January 13th – cervical contractions would not abate
the pesky master (papa), strove to synchronize his seminal bait
thence, forty-two weeks after ma parents did pro create
Imminent lviii plus years ago to date
this present baby boomer doth indubitably and inherently equate
Nineteen hundred and fifty nine
   bequeathed birthed mine kempf ill fate
neurological manifestation sans obsessive compulsive did grate
behavioral motif and analogous to frontispiece per the story I hate
of my life and hard times, when all of a sudden out the blue irate

the onset of emotional nadir,
   where ballistic ordnance bombed away
fancy free, innocent, naïve boyhood
   decrying, detonating, and describing me own Pigs Bay
Allied, linkedin, and synced Luftwaffe
   and Panzer division invasion that clay
like materiel within southern cerebral hemi
   sphere inroads usurped no delay
riding roughshod via synapse straits sporting
   scoring sorties using every
axe n newer on dread did Swiss hide dill naught
   to decimate with Sherman determination tuff flay
leaving not one iota (oft times) referenced as gray
matter unaffected quite aware
   of rebellious confederated voices yelling “HOORAY”

Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication incorporating connection between anterior cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) greater activity upon basal ganglia, which synoptic description does nothing to alter the predisposition to ingress of uncontrollable imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical fixation particularly during onset of puberty, when an emotional kamikaze nose dive at the nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow of me former self nowhere tubby found on account of deadly symbiotic relationship asper the invisible nemesis – i.e. electrical impulses faux nattering nabobs of mien nativity whereat unseen thriving sensational riffraff quenched powerhouse ousting nestled milkmaids, or rather pressing said resources sans vitality into dangerous, frivolous, and horrendous self destructive antics, where ballistic charges drugged eminent domain former nerve cell size occupants, thoroughly re-engineering sense and sensibility with pride fullness and prejudice on par with dousing one with an ****** that completely upends functioning healthily, judging lovingly, and managing productively versus expending precious time and energy self absorbed into manic, neurotic, and/or psychotic actions, manners, thoughts, et cetera, which irrationality got embedded within the neurological interstices, which even as of this moment hound me akin to wild beasts circling ever closer to launch mortal kombat against their very housing.

it's gone way past the late 1980s concern for the typewriter...
like russell crowe in fathers & daughters...
i could say: luckily i'm a man,
but then i have to have this phobia
of "being" prone to enforced castration...
or however that theory goes...
      and however much i look at
free-expression outlets,
   i just see more and more of the cartesian
libra weighed down
(way   ga ga d, ed, edited... sure
english is complex weight sounds nothing like
weighed, to say, down boy! down!) -
there's more of the "i am" than
there is of the "i think"...
like walking to a speed-dating event
and having the label: hi, my name is Fred...
so whereas the one ascribed to history looked
like this:
                                           i am

                           Δ

i think

the modern day picture looks like:

i think

                          Δ

                                             i am...

and then apply copernicus to it...
left? right? left of right? right of left?
               that's just pointing at the world and saying:
i had so much narrative potential in me
that i actually liked the mundane aspects of it being there,
but then "i think" outweighed the stressors
for an "i am"... we live in a predominantly "i am"
culture... beginning with atheism...
    atheism is predominantly an "i am" base
for the cartesian seesaw... that noun alone does it for me:
present-past... 1945 evidently had to happen,
and since western society is quick to slurp
that magic juice so quickly it gives them a brain-freeze
is all the more evident...
        great cultural impetus though...
i mean, i could listen to certain music all day
and feel nothing related to the obnoxious sound
of knocking on a door...
     like: knock knock... who who? bye.
the best "christmas" present i ever received was
by going into a music store back in the 1990s...
          and buying a movie soundtrack for mortal
kombat... because that game tells you:
from the game? a great movie... and music esp.,
street fighter? what, jean claude van damme?
stroll through the kew gardens...
       or trying to catch a mosquito's testicles wearing
boxing gloves...
                  but back in the day when Ilford shopping
mall had an ourprice (that ***** of a daughter of
****** megastores)...
        this one salesperson asked me why i wanted
the classical score to batman forever,
rather than the movie soundtrack with
u2's hold me, thrill me, kiss me, **** me...
      and i was certain: i need to play with my G.I. Joes...
the 20th century... looks funny now,
how we played with those pieces of plastic...
   living in the aura of both the Chernobyll
aftermath, and the Chinese State one child policy...
oh i wouldn't dare to call my life fascinating,
thought provoking or in need of a book...
but then i also think that the biography of
Don Giovanni is a bit stupid... with a life like that?
please... why write a book?
  such are the times, the concerns for "i think"
are out... outdated... never to be seen ever again...
thinking has become less of an identity basis
for modern man... than what concerns "needing"
to stress the "i am"... of that cartesian seesaw...
i am: blah trans blah cis blah atheist blah blah, blah...
me? i'm working on surds...
try to catch me talking into the internet...
last time i was using this medium i was wondering
why a website doesn't have ctrl + c block parameters
to enforce, even by moderate hopes, a case
for ©...
              and why _ and the * could collide
when writing ex_machina...
                     or that chestnut of deus ex machina:
now is the time more than ever:
   we made it, we can state a **** ex machina
arguments given we have such technological
advances... oh look... hello woman in tokyo!
i'll probably see more of you than my neighbour...
one word why i chose the classical score
for batman forever over u2...
      fledermausmarschmusik:
what's that? fleeing mouse-march music...
    or marching mouse music, if you're going to
chop the hyphen off and rewrite german, in english
like you're write it from left to right (in grammatical
terms), rather than right to left;
yet this is precisely the point,
  the serious stuff goes into the music,
even if the project can only be seen as a cover
that's the basis for infantalism...
  ah... that word always gets me "dyslexic"...
infantilism... t tee tea?
       english for you, king crimson and
in the court of the crimson king... dance of
the vowels... ******* demonic entities, wry from
the divorce of the grapheme adam & eve (æ):
which is hardly an æsc / ash, given it could
just be given a treatment of -esque...
    surgeon! es kay? risky! ah.... ha ha ha ha!
so using this medium like i might use
hairs off a horse's mane to play the violin once
stretched and kept keen in a bow...
    and paper comes from trees and glass from sand:
the mad ingenuity that could ever be exploited...
which means this really isn't much:
i spent the past hour watching a double rainbow
appear, and then disappear...
come sunset i was trying to figure out what to
call the colour of clouds that allowed the rainbow to
appear... is that plums... or bruises?
then you open a monday newspaper and read the headlines
that the internet is making...
  and thinking... Alan Turing? they really shouldn't
have ****** with you;
unlike some of us, who thank you for creating a world
where capitalism stands on its head and
some of us don't care for provocation or
book-deals... and... well... just find the whole
endeavour into writing to be relaxing...
       given that talking was never really on the cards,
or needed; so yes, thank you for provoding
the skrót.