Stille
Einmal kurz durchatmen
Die einzige Leerstelle im Gehirn
Die ich mag
Schön, dass du da bist
Schön dich zu sehen
Hier bei mir

Viele Kleinigkeiten machen ein Leben aus
Wir sammeln sie
Geben weiter und nehmen mit
Tragen uns gegenseitig durch die Welt
Bis zum letzten "Aus"

Und doch zerbrechen wir uns den Kopf bei den großen Dingen
Zumindest wenn sie groß klingen
Lasst uns trauern
Zwischen gemeinsam und alleine
Lasst uns feiern, lasst uns essen
Am Ende muss man lernen
Immer weiter zu machen
Weiter zu leben

Schon wieder etwas verloren
Jemanden
Auf dem Weg gelassen
Schon fasst vergessen
Schon wieder etwas mehr allein
Aber nur scheinbar

Vieles geht im Alltag unter
Großer wie Kleines
Manche Dinge kommen wieder
Manche schleichend und leise
Manche plötzlich, schreiend, laut

Lasst uns einen Moment verweilen
Hier und jetzt
Zusammen schweigen
Tritt ein *******zurück
Und lausch
Betrachte das Ganze
Schau was du sehen kannst von hier

Genieß den Ausblick
Solange du magst
Und dann komm langsam zurück
Zurück zu mir

Hey so I really wanna follow like all of yall that liked my lasst poem "How To Disappear Completely" but my phones super slow and cant load all of my notifications unfortunately so if yall could just send me a quick message being like  "hey whatsup followed you" thatd be awesome !
~ natasha

qiss kiss ts'kammen
ordeal of the dyslexics.

****** innuendos aplenty:

i cycled with a rucksack full of empty cider bottles
and one tiny 35cl where whiskey would
otherwise be found... i have a fetish for recycling,
a fetish for recycling, not owning a car but rather
two bicycles, long walks in the forest alone,
scratching my head and pretending to braid parts
of my beard: rather, pinching it and twisting the pinched
part so it might appear that i have saber-teeth either side
of my chin...
                   little pleasures...
i would otherwise be known as a: KLOSZER...
KLOSZ... lampshade... kloszer is a derogatory term
for someone in Eastern Europe who collects empty bottles
from skips to later bring back to a shop
to get his WACŁO (VATSWO) - i guess i imagined this word:
in the olden days of the early 1990s...
us boys used to play during the summer running mayhem,
on our breaks we'd go to the shop and buy
TURBO gum, chew chew chew...
and have a little prized paper of a car,
and we used to buy lemonade, later pepsi...
if we bought a lemonade (always in a glass bottle)
and drank it on the spot, returned the bottle to the shop...
we weren't charged extra for the drink...
but if we decided to buy a glass-bottled drink and not
return the bottle on the spot? we'd get charged extra:
glass was precious under communism...
KLOSZER? the person who would scout the urban
environment and pick up leftover glass bottles
for a drink of *****... but i'm recycling and i feel mightily
proud of... "proud"... of this Achilles heel...
baron of crashing chandeliers...
                     but it wasn't raining when i performed this task...
when i cycled to the VAPE shop on North St.
inquiring... i was giving this ASPIRE Typhon 100 as
a present... but the more my lips and breath snuggle on
this **** no smoke comes out... and the smoke is harsh...
coils?! coils?! over-used coils?
i walked in to the shop with the sort of would-be
girlfriend with piercings and tattoos
   and all that jingle at the counter... some random guy
sticking around for too long, i broke his train of thought...
i was trying to break past the smoke pretending
there was a dead carcass in the room and instead of smoke
there were flies... **** me... i'm looking for a new coil...
new coil she says... she starts rummaging...
it started raining by then...
           she picked up a £15 packet of five filters... coils...
PnP-VM6... like this sort of detail actually matters...
i ask her... so how do you change them?
she replies: you just pull it out...
so i pull it out... oops...
                     *** scene worded...
my flask is full of blueberry oily liquid... it spills...
all while there's this: now turning into a creepy guy
in the background obviously not buying just
trying to work his game with this woman behind
the counter... the liquid spills...
playful innuendo conversation: oh... i'm not intimidated...
i have underperformed in my life...
not exactly premature *******... it's just when
she's the madam of the "parlour" and i have no energy
and i need to chop my **** off and replace it with a *****
the fluid spills my hands are greasy
she tells me that she'll get the tissue...
oops... once more... obviously it was a super-charged
***-metaphor...
i can't remember the last time i was called HONEY
and the whole affair was brushed off so easily with
***: in my mind, guiltily displaced...
   i bought the filters and pushed when the sign on
the door indicated PULL...
as confused as anyone might be...
when, where? apart from a VAPE shop will you get to pull
out an intricate part of a tool...
spill juices and have a woman retort with: let me get you
some tissues... i mean... that's super-charged Freudian
forbid might have any choking-jokes aside beyond
the already made via innuendo...

i'm richer than the rich having none of their worries
or the follies,
i do own what the rich own: and for that i am
rich in not having to worry about owning
things that might cause me to worry -
                   if it might be only for a minute or two:
this moulded heap of cow dung
    and mud - and milk and water -
   leave behind all the chains of gravity and marry
air: marry air and rise higher to the highest
point - touch the membrane where air disappears
and what is left is the vacuum where stars dictate
what is and what isn't...

or to better translate...

    reading one poem: Zbigniew Herbert's
   Former Masters while listening to Faun's
Sonnenreigen

and as if by magic my knowledge of English
disappears in my mind to a silence...
eaten up twice, ejected thrice!

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

dawni mistrzowie
obywali się bez imion

        (in der goldnen morgenstund
     ziehen wir aus des tales grund)

   ich sygnaturą były
białe palce Madonny  (und wir tanzen
                                               froh hinein
      in den frühen sonnenschein)

albo różowe wieże
   di città sul mare    (hoch hinauf auf bergeshöhen -
                      
  a także sceny z życia
   della Beata Umiltà      / -  um ins auge lughs zu
                                               sehen)

   roztapiali się   (lasst uns feiern
   w sogno              (             diese zeit
miracolo                  ( die der sommer
     crocifissione              ( hält bereit...)

    znajdowali schronienie
pod powieką aniołów        
                                                (du lässt deine raben ziehen
                                               in die felder golden stehen
                                                und das helle lichte rad
                                                dreht sich über lughnasad)

   za pagórkami obłoków
w gęstej trawie raju
                                                (muzik gemisch nach chor)
   toneli bez reszty                                      "
w złotych nieboskłonach                          "
  bez krzyku pzerażenia                            "
bez wołania o pamieć                                "
                         ­                                             "
   powierzchnie ich obrazów                    "
są gładkie jak lustro                 (es war nun ein
                                                             ganzes jahr)

nie są to lustra dla nas      (seit ich dich beim tanze sah
   są to lustra wybranych      (allzu oft in langer nacht)
                                                 habe ich an dich gedacht)
....

     sprawcie niech spadnie ze mnie
wężowa łuska pychy           (könig sommer führt den tanz
                                               dem ich folg im blütenkranz
                                               und so dreht sich unser kreis
                                               in der alltbekannten weis')

  niechaj zostane głuchy
   na pokuszenie sławy    (du lässt deine baben ziehn
                                           in die felder golden stehen
                                              und das helle lichte rad
                                              dreht sich über lughnasad)

/ / / / / / / / / / / / / / / /

ehemalige meister
sie lebten mich selber
    ohne namen

       (w porannej godzinie, złotej)
    pull us from the grand valleys...
oh ****... incursion of the English:
the red-coats are coming!

       ciągnąć nas z wielkich dolin...

   ihr unterschrift war
weiß finger Madonna  (i my tańczyli
                                               radośni zu-hausen, W
                                 wwww to:
schdat:  frühen-para-freeze: fruit:
early... sonnenschein - sun-lighting
oblivion... sun-glee: shine...)

oder rosa türme
   di citta sul mare    (wysokie
                 ÚP z  
wyżyny górskie -
                      
  und auch sZenen mit leben
   della Beata Umilta      / -  um ins auge lughs zu
                                               sehen)

geschmolzen sich   (liście nas świętować  
in sogno              (             ten czas
miracolo                  ( there the summer, to i too
                                           that: there, the: to i too:
                                        ta jedyna stokroć:
                                         zerk chłodem oka: powieka...
                                   okno na świat... rano:
                                              i modłem: terz:
                                          anatomia bosa noga...
                                    dzicz: bosa noga boga...
rap rap... all that rap might bring to suffice:
the polyglot presence of an African incursion
into Europe... mumble mumbo jam: tát tát... jum-b'oh!

a thought experiment one awry: trying to exclude
English from my psyche for a little while
proved insufferable, even if listening to a song
on Deutsche and reading a Polieren script...
sneaky ******* has a way to return...
i wanted to keep a perfect translation
of: reading a script in Polieren while listening
to a song in Deutsche...
subsequently translating the read Polieren
into Deutsche and reimagining hearing Deutsche
al Polieren... not in the right interest of
the English philosophy ("esoteric aesthetic")
of queuing... ****** just butter in: elbows held high!

SMUTNA SUKNIA: OGIER: PEJCZ!
   co stonoga-noga-o-gołą: nogę...
widmo... język... mów a mowa...
                                     bzdeta: mów!
ogier: stonoga... wilko-kroć...
  step... mowa: noga... ogień: zór...
jęk: kleṅska: ogień: ozór...
                            język: ksieżyc...
ogień: rosputsta: i nadal mi brak słów!

     crocifissione              (trzyma gotowość...)

    sie fanden zuflucht
unter augenlid auf engel        
                                                (wypuszczasz swoje kruki
                                               by stanąć na złotych polach
                                                i koło jasnego światła
                                                zakręty samo-w-się nad
                                                lughnasad!) ­                                     

   hinter hügel wolken
in der dicke gras auf paradies
                                                (muzyka­: tylko muzyka,
                                                     bez, słów)
   sie ertranken ohne der rest                    "
im golden himmelneigung                       "
  ohne schrei auf grusel                             "
ohne anruf um erinnerung                       "
                                                               ­       "
   oberflächen ihr gemälde                        "
sind glatt wie spiegel                 (to był jeden dobry
                                                           ­  cały rok)

nien sind dies spiegel für uns
   sind sie diesser spiegel die ausgewählt

                                               (odkąd ja i ty na tańcu okiem wgląd
                                               także często w dłuższej nocy)
                                               miałem ja, myśl twoją)
....

     mach es möglich lassen werde fallen
    von mich
serpentin schale auf stolz  
                           (król lato prowadzi taniec
                           za którym podążam w wieńcu kwiatów
                           i tak obraca się nasz krąg
                           w znany sposób)

  lassen ich werde bleiben taub
   an verlockung von / auf
                       RUHM        (pozwalasz odejść swoim dzieciom
                                              stanąć na złotych polach
                                              i koło jasnego światła
                                              odwraca Lughnasad -
                                      
płuco - singular... plural?
   płuca... lungs....
    garden of breathing!
soul always escapes the noun...                       

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

just to double check, translating from ******
to German and German to English,
that how i would have otherwise arrived
on these shores if my only mode of transport
was the tongue:
if i had no legs and perhaps no eyes...
if i were an idea of English that could express
it as I, Ja, Ich...
        and, yes, theirs'...
       iota > whatever might come after...

ah! this is one of those thought experiments!
it has to be! i'm excited!
i'm truly awakened!
this muddle of memory, dream, imagination,
reality a sprinkle of words and hey presto!
starved from images having moved
from the Age of the Image
to the Age of the Music...
it's so simple...
once upon a time you could only hear
music if someone played it good
or you played it badly...

yet when someone wrote a word...
or when someone painted a painting...
it could be written once
yet preserved by time
by this ingenious overcoming of God
(no, not man)
and if god "wrote" mountain man "wrote"
Pyramid,
if god "wrote" river man "wrote":
boat bridge watermill...
if god "wrote" forest man "wrote":
pluck out these trees stop looking
for berries and mushrooms...
look for grass, edible grass! find me arable
land that's not a desert!
of once mountain ranges that passed
from time into non-history
    into keepers of time by the whims
of the fluted wind...
                  
by wind my breath...
by my breath the decay of creative rust...
     i can only create dead things...
with me the power of death-creativity...
i invented the stirrup with me gone
the horse might finally not graze so easily
after the work of civilization has been done...

only then might the four horsemen
come with me dead and the stirrup
   i can only create dead things...
i am the death-creativity...
with me there will not need for the fork
or the knife the spear and the rope
upon waking a new world
i will only know words like mountain
apple tree i will know the word cloud
i will know to say the sea and that sea
i will call the caspian sea: sea...
and the atlantic sea: sea...
    and i will call the Danube the Oder
and the Oder the Vistula
but i will not know what is Danube or Oder
i will be unable to say or dream or conjure
a fork without: the fork
i will be in Paradise...
i will not know the concept of ******
because there will be no word for ******
there will be no Madonna or pregnant woman
there will be no foetus there will be so many words
missing! so many words will be missing...
all the basic words of coordination
will be there: and the Highest Abstracts
will be there: will, hope, dream,
    there will be there: be, am and i,
             there will be: because, are you,
there will be giggle and there would be crying,
there would be sad and there would be happy...
there would be: because and after and by
and there would be...
there would be no knowledge nor anything
concerning grammar...
this revision of "vocabulary" would imply
there being no real vocabulary,
a dream-world vocabulary of:
if said thing goes not exist... there's no word for it...
there would be no word: hammer
because there would be no need for hammers
indeed: nails...
motion of hammering...
there might be a rock and a trick of a hardened shell...
there would be no word for distance:
mile... by looking upon the sun...
there would be the Eye of the Blue
and the Eye of the Navy-Glee... there would
be no Night no Nothing
    no Night in this Hanging Pyramid of Babel...

there would be no Moon or Sun
only the Eye of the Blue
and the Eye of the Navy-Glee...
Glee? SH.... what's SH in shIMMER?
what's IMMER?
(oops... a Socratic stumbling block)
   immer... ALWAYS...
      what's SH+H? shh? be quiet always?!
SH... sound, vibration is sound...
            shh! yes: i'm telling you: it's going to be
like that, always...
   promised you 72 virgins?
wouldn't you just want your mind un-muddled?!
what's un- and muddled?
un- is not... not of when coupled to a noun
that works like a verb... doing the muddling...
medley muddling mummifications: toilet... paper...

toilet? no... no knowledge of toilet in "heaven"...
no paper too...
     word... what's word?
God... what is God... no God...
word is the a priori already invested crown
of curtailing words to begin with...
not imitation sound: __S

ah... sobering up... i love this bouncing along of English
dynamic like everyone is invoked to be involved...

                                          Z__­___

that's how the West met the East in writing

Z_________S

my "god" will be the word ONOMATOPOEIA...
and his son will be MIMIC
and his wife will be NĀMÉ
                        alternative written by angels
as NAMEH... because by then only angels will have
knowledge of the clue, not God,
of YHWH... YHWH will become as comical
as the 21st graffiti spray-painted by some boy
in the outskirts of London...
this scribble should have been preserved by the angels,
but like Prometheus, the arch angel Samael
brought down this scribble...

they brought the mummies and their hieroglyphs
that turned out to be Emoticons...
the Egyptians had two brothers...
the brother Aztec who copied the eldest
brother, Egyptian in constructing the Pyramids
and brother of the Great O of the Orient
who squinted his eyes with avarice and lineage
and said: i'll write like you, i'll see through you...
you give me mummified bodies
i'll give you skeletons...
the Aztec was the youngest,
the Egyptian the Eldest...
  the Khan was in the middle...
and Khan was right... he employed a pre-digitalisation
of scripts... imagine throwing
the letter G into Egyptian hieroglyphs...
some ****** did that to Khan's great counter
of hieroglyphs full bodied...
to hieroglyphs pure skeleton...
prior to Latin: not even Greek was a skeleton-key?
what? letters marrying numbers?!
unheard of?

1111111... one... lllllll (little l)... IIIIIIII (big iota)

imagine dropping a latin letter into Egyptian
"script"...
look what happened when someone dropped
something foreign into
Chinese hieroglyphs and so was born
Katakana... Chinese hieroglyphs came first...
then came Katakana...
then came the elevated:
if the story is true... and the Austrians
think themselves better than the Germans...
someone gave birth to the scribbles...
Korean came last...

       that feeling you get when you're trying to look
for an actor's name:
he playss the role of Grand-Duke?
Emperor? of the Habsburg Dynasty...
the elder brother of Marie Antoinette...
beautiful actor...
                          lips like purses...
who threw that ******* bone against the Chinese
hieroglyphs that spawned Japanese minimalism
that translated: ha! translated Chinese through
Japanese to Korean... split the ******* in two...
towing two! towing two!
                          Zhin Chin ****... silly!
   i'm not joking...
           Žin vs. Żyn... Rzym! Rzym... Rome! Rome!
hmm...
           Źın...          Žiń...
  
ha ha... the Nazis smoked out the son of the devil
of the people who gave them abode for almost...
whenever Poland, converted (insert a snigger...
i have the noun-spelling for it...
but not the onomatopoeia, ha ha... laughter
and rugby)...

change of direction at work...
i'm feeling an aura of: DISTANCING...
people are feeding off the appetite of me: leaving...
and their lives being over...
of course they will not be over...
they'll be feet in not worn shoes
in shoes boxes on shelves in libraries
of fickleness of the female side of humanity...
only angels should have been given
the crack-head code of the 4 letter "signature" of
YHWH... i'll give Jesus credit...
well... Beelzebub...

HANGU:L! that ingenious king of Korea
that: seeing a stick being thrown
at a bunch of sticks assembled as a shelter
of the Chinese hieroglyphs witnessed as the Japanese
folded... worked on an argument
of introspection: kept it...
hmm... what are those weird ISLADERS
******* around it?
they have the BOLD katakana
and the ITALIC hiragana...
two ******* trenches...
just let some westerner know:
the Hiroshima (katakana)
and the Nagasaki (hiragana)...

   Chernobyl and Fukushima...
the pregnant women were advised to drink iodine...
boom! boom! boom!
ergo? no real, comparatively: "boom" as boom!
or  BOOM...

it's the second morning i'm woken up from briefly dreaming...
point about dreaming? the content doesn't matter...
i'm not a hyper-focused Freud...
dreams are dreams in
how fog is fog and a hurricane is  hurricane...
dreaming heavily:
you feel exhausted if you slept for 10 hours
or 5... dreamless...
you slept: you didn't dream...
but dreams creep up on you:
they play fakery with your body:
you weren't sleeping: you were dreaming...
unlike getting blind drunk
and... sleeping: not dreaming...
with the lesser baggage(d) people...
snails? no... elephants! no ivory tusks...
already no fur... no drunks...
edible cartilage of the ears...
flapping... hmm... i might have to invent
a rug... a place to take off one's shoes...
shoe?
shoe prior to sock? obviously...
shoe prior to sock...
sexed up legs... procreation by the chemical
demise of acting...
if not sold to actors:
a god-send...
i could **** each any every ugly *****
but... god almighty... the impossible feats...
with Xerxes on your back?
the second battalion ambush of Greece?!

currently as is "currently": and, ahem... "history":
a history of plug-hole psychology
of inescapable Darwinism: cuckoldry...
or Plato's ***** joke about the feminism
of Hindus and their tired, wasted concern for Hygiene...
they bathed with the dead...
so the dead came and ate up the living...

for the past days... of note... two...
upon waking i hear my name being called:
Mateusz!
not twice, thrice, just... once...
i rush down and ask my mother: have i overslept?!
did you call me?
the replies: no... i haven't called you...
why am i: Matthew?
                     i don't think i'm: Matthew Smith
or a Matthew Czopek or a Matthew Eschlert..
or a Matthew Matthews...
why was Jesus Christ not Jesus ben Josephus
ben Matthias?
                i wonder... not really: "wandering"...

it was but a little nugget of inspiration of marijuana
and i went off the tangent...
i would not replicate the original ******
poem into German
   and the German song into ******...
because... springboard og ingenuity
English woke up!
as if: spontaneously...
i can't appreciate poetry written by
mono-linguists or ****-up: kissy: tut-tut..
smooch kiss-up immigrant ****-wits
of: this is only a Lingua FRANCA...
"franca"... a tourist-tongue...
it's a ***** tongue...
people speak it, leave it, abandon it...
sometimes perhaps frame it...
it's a tongue of commerce and Babel
and... at the end of all the tongues coming
together to speak it...
a rather: unsatisfying tongue...
over-salted... over-pompously-self-solidifying
complicated-soliloquy... solipsism...
something this: that: self-
    +-evidently apparent that children ought to
be teaching this modus operandi... *******... ha ha!

letter will not be know since words will not be known,
we will, although know words, that will be sounds
not scribbled down, imagination will be
nullified and nothing will be born with sleep
and dreaming will be alien to us,
since we will not be myopic
*** will be friendship and: we will know not
the word for tool and the specifics of ingenuity
and genius...
there will be no word for man...
and there will be no word for woman
and there will be no diatribe of death and child...

my uncle is in hell and i can almost count
this auditory hallucination:
i will have no concept of auditory: because i heard...
within the non-existence of my bones
and body and blood and brain and heart
in the water and earth turning to air
with each breath...
i will not hear... how my uncle: calls for me...
and how did you live with your mother,
when she aged to a nearing rot...
i lived with them and not people i would exchange
for a properly working bicycle-lock...

for each ******* i would replace the glorious
half hours i had with them
the months i spent with my supposed "lovers"...
i'd take one half hour with a *****
to replace the courting with said woman: unsaid:
to procreate and teach "my" children:
children of the times... flawed lessons
of the march, ancient march of typology
and non-writing and Time as Dust...

am i to help you when i implored the non-existent
deity into my *****,
indirectly you might implore for me:
will i reply to the heaven sent:
what am i to do?!
do as i did: absolutely nothing and nothing too,
that's twice that's hardly not a scone
scuffed and chained to Baron Zung...

            speak two tongues and tease a third...
come the fourth... letters have to turn into images...
in this heaven of no sheltered virgins..
in my noun-basket i will not have words
like pen, or: boiler, roof, eyeliner,
i will not have:
          screen, cinema, actor,
           philosopher, poet, psychologist,
soul: i'll have my self-eating cannibalism of breath...
verbs will merge with nouns
and the only nouns worth existing thereby will
be: specified and "corrupt" by a localised
specialisation:

                 god will be ONOMATOPOEIA...
the son will be MIMIC
and there: within the confines of said time
MIMIC will battle Chimera...
MIMIC will look alike: Chimera
but Chimera alphabetically:

    CHIMERA = ACEHIMR

                   the dead are not so displeasing
when it comes to the living-as-if-dead...
and there are plenty of those
living such: body-and-soul-crushing...
no... i couldn't imagine myself marrying
a troll... just to somehow oddly fit it...
i'm not going to reply to a message:
me and Nicki... says Frankie... are over...
reply: to what? and did you hear
my side of the story? no? no?!
i don't have to hear your side, either!
oculus per oculus!
like for like:
dislike for dislike!

           i'll wait... i'm not actually waiting
for anything other than:
can you please leave me alone?
i'll reply you whenever i feel like it...
i don't feel like
wanting human connection for at least
two days...

there's a hell and a privacy one earns to have
earned it that one rarely wants to
have it made public...
albeit in the "public anonymous"...
all the more willingly... since no immediate
consequences are to  be met: face-to-no-face...
tired of replies...
walking lesbians into the night
is like pretending to not walk
cows into the slaughterhouse...
ego-***** replacing what once was?
Plato the Plumber and the blocked toilet
of reincarnation...
i'm done with pride... Herr Dapf...

             for the waiting to be dead,
falte der primast schattierung:
für das Warten tot zu sein:
ich möchte auch tot sein...

   a death with the hollows
of the hallowed wooded emptied bark....
suffer the sound of a thunder-stroke...
donnerschlaganfall:
all aligned with things living...
nearly: or waiting to be towed toward
A... death...

           morgen?
                          tòmāté...
*******: SPUD!
           morgen butter-kneaded? by the hollows
of said, suggested juices..
my knees are not enough:
meine knie sind nicht genug!

there’s a forest known with a wicker scent
woven tree line where we caught the snake
pull a full bottle from behind your back
rinse a clean slate and lay it on the track
                                                                             coal come stain
                                                                             nickel abstain
THERE AINT DAGGERS AT HOME WHEN iT
MEANS THE SAME
when i lean in vain

build a portal out of garden vines
taken on the precipice of hardened signs
stretched out over our memory seams (seems at rest now)
full bent spine over backlit needs (needs to rest now)
CUZ YOU KNOW i AINT LIVING
i’LL BE WONDERING HOW
   entering bow
it leaves
a
  compass stage

you take me back into those dimed up days
long at lasst quartered in century delays
give it two best like the nightlight’s dead
lead me to the outlet where i lose my head
dollars and cents
it kinda makes sense

LABOR FOR THAT FEAT WHICH ENDURETH UNTO
    everlasting
    it leaves
a      compass     stage

cosy (title): modo+ (body), for a 502 error bypass... otherwise, the original text:

alrerst quichp: which is a googlewhack, i need to nod off, seriously... people, in general, are not worth my seriousness, not enough to begin with; all is done on a whim, on a... m'eh .

i cry at this mere thought,
the crucified one of Golgotha didn't die for
my "sins"...
what were we, gentiles, even the Greeks
among us, without knowledge of the "father"?
haunted by the depths of Siberia,
having left the welcoming Raj & its mangos...

he didn't die for my sins, or anyone's sins...
the secretive nature of the Hebrews:
exposed, came in a fully formed revelation
via one man's suffering under:
preposterous conditions:
that never, will never, match up...
even if Socrates was an old man...
he was implored to drink poison:
but never would he have been tortured prior
to an execution that became a second torture...

dearest brother... what you endured...
to give other men insight into your deity,
that swallowed up the minor deities
of the Canaanites... how Beelzebub became
an angel... almost like: faux pas...
the ugliness of Michael being demoted from
status of angel to a saint,
or fisherman Peter becoming a saint...
men on equal grounding with angels...
men without ambitions to be gods?!
what horrors in the metaphysical realm
must have unfolded in the past 2000 years...

but it's clear as sight allows...
as light beckons, as shadows swallow said light,
we have been illuminated...
tell me another story, one more fiction
than history,
a history where Charlemagne took interest
in literacy... no, you will not...
there have been other famous leaders
who bypassed stressing the need
for literacy, not the genius: not Sejong...
the world doesn't celebrate him enough...
the myths are true!
he lived in the prosperity of what could
be deciphered as "modern" times...
1400s circa, i don't remember the exact dates...
but Sejong gave the Koreans
their Hangul... their written script...

of all the eastern texts, beside the Sanskrit...
Hangul matches up to Katakana,
unlike Ezra Pound:
i'm not fascinated by Chinese ideograms...
the European counterpart
of emoticons, borrowed from
Egyptian hieroglyphs have already
explained the route, the story for me, enough...

but the Hebrew deity is:
such a spectacular phonetic environment to
meditate in, esp. since it was so benevolent
to not undermine the Latin script...
the Latin alphabet survived,
more! it became armed with diacritical markers:
excluding those who only speak English...
truly... you can hide the already pre-prepared surd
of an H attached to the S in English
via the caron: more than / less than pointing
south... Engliš... hell... you could intoxicate yourself
further, to break down the words to atoms
within the confines of phonetics...
you could make N a surd too!

  by?  attributing the E with a tail,
a cedilla most associated with the French C...
which makes it a sigma...
i.e. Ęgliš... it ought to be a well established
knowledge that the Hebrews hide their
vowels, even though, Aleph is a sort of vowel...
use the prefix and suffix guise un-entanglement
of the Greek: alpha becomes a-lpha...
beta becomes b-eta...
   omicron becomes: o-micron...

the crucifixion of hey-zeus only gave the gentiles
access to the Hebrew deity...
is the deity such a horrible deity,
did the "father" do less damage to the deities of
lesser Semites than the "son" that sowed
havoc among the pagan traditions,
gone an Odin, bowing,
gone the Zeus, bowing...

in the beginning was the word,
und: am anfang da war das wort...
   nichts anders! lasst uns: rückkehr...
bezahlen unser fällig huldigung!

we have been invited through suffering...
such a deity as the tetragrammatom...
H to H... rugby posts...
W for an M for... trigonometry...
cosine and sine...
Y for for serpent's tongue, split,
bilingual, schizoid or?
the corner of a cube...

my interpretation is in "Latin"... it must be...
but look at what happened to cuneiform!

now Islam appeals through violence,
through terror, it will never appeal to my sensibilities,
nor the past of the people i inherited the present
with... Islam is a horrid plagiarism of Judaism...
i'll just break down the deity's denote:
all?! ah!
if only that was a relief...
god of the scythe moon and the supposed star
of the planet Venus in the guise, fakery...
Islam will never appeal to me...
Islam can burn in the abyss...
even the story of the fall of Satan...
if (i hallucinate the word dajjal while
writing this) Satan didn't bow before
Adam upon Adam's creation...
if i were Adam... i'd tease Satan's vanity...
i'd bow before him...
why? it would spare me having to keep him
in the back of my mind, resurrect him
with horror images of the inferno...
then again... if i didn't draw pictures
of dragons in the medieval period of my late
infancy... could i have later found...
dinosaur remains, or would i be merely satiated
by the remaining lizards on this earth?

for ****'s sake, why are the minorities so
******* offended?

why are all the racial minorities so, *******,
sensitive...
everyone is either racist or sexist...
at work...

you hear something equivalent to:
i don't know how i managed to watch the women's
world cup in football....
a black woman retorts: you're sexist...
what an a priori distinction to make:
no... they're tinier in size...
if they managed to get a girl,...
that might also play volleyball in goal...
what' the point explaining...
i'm sexist, i'm racist: de facto...
**** the minorities...
to hell with them!
then again... i'm a ****** living in
England, oh, right, i'm a white male...
i can't possibly be... **** the minorities!

i, am, tired... of living, with, these, people,
so, much, more... arguing, with, them...
let, them, ****, let them, experience,
"superiority" complexes...
i, am, not, DNA... investing... *******!
brighten up your tomorrow
by giving sensitivity classes to...
oh... wait... only the supposed minorities left...
well: ******* well done!
sensitive bunch of *******-****** Pakis;
ooh... ooh... hurt feelings...
thank the flying **** my ***** wasn't part
of the post-colonial project that England's now
part of... i guess something was reiterated...
look how the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth dissolved...
**** me... these aren't my girls getting ****** in
the ***...
sure... as a steward... at an event...
but... what are the chances that the Manchester bombing
could have been prevented...
if some of the stewards...
if all of the stewards didn't have
racial affiliations to the bombers?!

none... none... whatsoever, best sacrifice your
daughter than fear of being labelled a racist...
fair enough... bell's at toll, or, rather: counting
the tally of your... mistakes...
ahem... "sensibilities": oh, but you must mind
them as also being towed!

either a PIGS or a WASP...
is that how the world functions?
****'s sake...
        then... i don't want to bring any
children of my own into this.. ****-show...
no... i'm fine....
  the world can go **** itself silly...

- did i dream up the term: Pakistan?
i don't think i have, or had...
Asian Dub Foundation have the lyrics:
no Iraqi ever called me a ****..
****-? oh, the hyphen is required reading,
it denotes the term ****
as a prefix...
i'm with the English, i'm sort of,
rather than: i am sort of: lazy...
when speaking, i sometimes mumble,
although i shouldn't: should not...
ha ha ha...
you wouldn't call (would not)
call an Afghani / Afghan an... Afghanistani...
would you?
or an Iraqi an Iraqistani?
would you?!
ooh... sensitive little creatures...
perhaps creatures, perhaps nothing more than
caricatures... perhaps just...
lesser tans of ****...
****** variations of cinnamon,
or cumin or... em... coriander powder?!
maybe all three? pack-up-the-****...
i want to sharpen my teeth on something...
but that load of **** i don't want
to bite... n'ah... i rather pair up
with a dog's canine...
this sort of *******
i'd rather sink down a toilet...

- sure, call me milk toast etc.
i'm not the one being overtly sensitive over
words that people of racial minorities
don't own, since they didn't invent them!

too drunk to see the letters....
too drunk to mind the barriers....
to begin with,
long be gone the despotism of minor
and minorities...
for the majority rule,
for the majority are tantamount:
for future, for preservation,
for, tactic...

no one mentioned the Rotherham gangs
of the ultimate PAK... do they?
prefix distinction missing, or sonrthing?
you will never say Afghan
when stating Afghanistan, will you?
YOU WILL STATE: AFGHANISTANI...

curiously defect, curiously: WEAK PAKIs...
term red: red...
    you might asd well recite:
Bengali... Bengal (people)
when citing: Bangladesh...
why...  add Bangladeshi... is there a suffic
-stan to be invoked...
lazily... ****... because i don't feel like
expressing the fuller: -stani!
savvy? no... with these people there is no
******* "savvy"...

there's either a foot in the face,
or there's a... shove their face in my aas
and take a sniff...
your skin colour almost resembles the hue
of the **** i **** out...
how's that?!

it takes two to tango... how's this tango?
******* whiplash... you sorted,
the proper imam squidgy plush?

sensitive little creatures...
can **** little white girls...
but can't stand being called a ****-,
note the hyphen, so it denotes
a prefix...
what a load of insensible little people
that will crowd the earth with
their little ideas...
what a glorified reinvention
of the gods... some of us must have become
too smart for the gods to jest...
i have to see it that way...
the dodo project...
wee became too smart,
too individualistic...
no one, except me:
invited the existence of the demigod Solipsism:
Sisyphus... Solipssus...
except me...
       no, this art, this architecture...
my own doesn't exactly matter, why should
i leverage a back-log of paintings/ ideas?!
let it burn, let it burn!
let's revise... we need to revise...
we've become too complacent...
to begin with...
i think it's necessary, mind you...
all the white girls are expecting a ***** flick of
itemizing phallus sizes...
if they're not... probably *****... or ignored...
thirdly: i stopped caring...
do i, own her? do i, pay for her?
well, none of the stressed above...
she sees chocolate whenever and however she pleases...
why bother?

the lowest in the IQ spectrum will inherit the earth...
let them! i don't mind...
to hell with high IQ people...
listen, your work is done...
there's  no need to continue the agony...
let the people who can best be cloned endure...
let people who enjoy *** the most: endure...
let people be their own sort of people...
personally, i don't want to be part of this
sack of swinging *******...
do i care that Europe will become
a Reconquista 2.0 Project... eh... no...
**** it... let the idiots reproduce...
i'm sort of going to appreciate their universal
suffering... it always comes...
regardless of their shelf-life /
shelf-alloction... suffering is almost a pre-condition
of the human experiences....
funny, though... it will be made easier
knowing that some categorical synonym
is missing...
all the better... like all the better for me, now...
that i should be deemed undesirable
by them and my own elites...

my hands are open... my heart is freed...
such lesser creatures require such lesser concerns
that only enable them to preserve:
preserving themselves...
hardly any original idea / narrative will ever
be allowed to be shared by them...
i thank myself: for not having
to agonise my children with a lack of
the said above...
thank god, i was smart enough to not
replicate mistakes...
my mistakes are my own...
they will never belong to my child...

grace, by the gratefulness to be:
alone, and only alone to
replicate: its comfortability...
                  my heart: that i allow to sink...
when dropped into a mirror
of a lake...
oh! the splendour! rich or poor,
near or far apart!
what measure, that equates them
as equal "apart"...
          my "little" Hebrew deity of measure...
blind me: i will still see more clearly!

Wenn Kinder auf Panzern spielen
Noch nicht lange still gelegt
Ist es ein gutes oder ein schlechtes Zeichen?

Touristenattraktion Nummer drei
Liegt auf dem Weg
Wir kommen vorbei
Mach mal ein Foto

Eine friedvolle Szene?
Oder nur die Feuerpause
Zwischen Blitz und Gewitter?
Wo schlägt er diesmal ein?
Wie weit ist entfernt?
Sind wir hier sicher?

Helden der letzten Generation
Zu Bette dort unten in der Erde
Hört nicht hin
Lasst eure Augen geschlossen
Ruhet in Frieden
Ihr habt genug gelitten

Ich will noch nicht nach Hause
Papa nimmst du mich auf den Arm?
Mama kann ich ein Eis haben?
Die Sonne *******noch
Noch ist es warm

Ein Tanz durch die Zeit
Nennen wir es mal Geschichte
Den Mittelweg nehmen und nach oben schauen
Meist im Dunkeln tappen
Manchmal auch klar sehen
Und dabei verstehen das man dabei immer nur wird
Laufen oder rennen können
Stolpern klar
Mal gehen, aber nie fliegen

Maximal fallen
Bis zum Aufprall

Und dann tut's weh

Es ist arrogant zu denken man könnte immer wieder aufstehen
Und von vorne anfangen

Lasst uns so tun als wäre nichts gewesen