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Such a simple pile of letters
It shouldn't mean so much
But hearing your father utter it
Makes you chest tighten
With anger, fear, sadness
It doesn't matter
They all feel the same
Something he doesn't understand
He pokes fun at
But at what expense?
At his daughters expense
Such unkept recent
Striving in the old ways
Five simple letters
Two easy syllables
One not truly bad word
But on the lips of an unknowing loved one
This simple thing stings
Brings tears to your eyes
As your ears bleed red
Shouts of anger
Thoughts of hatred
Simple gestures left for dead
No one left for you
You wander the narrow-minded streets
Those letters ringing inside your head
They were said with such little thought
As if it were not in the presence of the twisted
But as it was said
You bring it into your *****
Nurture it with discontent and cold stares
Soon you are left haggard and bent in two
This once so simple thing
Now an uncontrolled being
Eating at you
Tearing your mind apart
While the pain numbs you
Remember where this started
A father figure's lips falling open
Five letters coming out
Sounding in two syllables
Stringed into one word;
Lezbo
Alex Park Jun 2011
There's this guy
Who new a guy
Who new this guys cousin

Who new this guys mother
Who new this guys father
Who new this guys godmother

Who new this guys godfather
Who new this guys gay friend
Who new this guys lezbo friend

Who new this guys gay dad
Who new this guys gay aunt
Who new my Boo
20th through to the 23rd of June
LS (London Stadium, Foo Foo Fudge
Packers)
then 21st headed to Wembley: wound
in the womb: a fetus
(can't understand why that's underlined
in red when foetus): the disappearance
of œ and øzɔfaʒ

/n̪͡mt̪͡p/ (Yele: Papa New Guinea:
mmm't         or mount: mt.)
Niveneh: no: Nineveh...
                  like Jericho but without chatter:
cauldron in the cold

      the other Siamese Twin of how language
originated in vowels
to later establish itself in consonants...

the digraph of Æ: almost Katakana and Hi:

K(appa) missing the additional 'i (<p)

i.e.                    カ-
                                らがな (HI! ragana:
regina regatta - smooth sailing, averse winds)

could compact the punctuation / insinuation,
hide the exclamation marker
attiring the iota with more than just a dot:
like so:

                 HÍ instead of HI!
also: HÍ = HI!

               as i pondered travelling on the train
sitting backwards from Romford
to Stratford
a quickie: 7 - 10min commute:

the perfections of language and the language
impasse
with the same language (as it were)
we build the pyramids
and the Coliseum
and conjured up the microchip and satellites
but still the ******* graffiti on
the walls like a sad testimony of:
not literate enough?

                   enough Swifties to me have
to exclaim to my ginger nut
i never worked in a response team
on basis / bias of positive discrimination
the industry has been flooded with
Asians (and i don't mean the artisan
Oriental cobblers, sturdy workers
i mean the Raj sleuths and sloths)

   so there i was working with "Brighton"...
4 English guys...
the ginger nut was going through
a breakup with a girl he was with for 3 years
bought Taylor Swift tickets
broke up: patchwork Adams i figured
am i a psychiatrist now?

no: a historian a psychiatrist a poet
a philosopher: all under ONE BANNER:
a HUMANIST...
i am a humanist: never worked with
someone with ADHD:
first time:
could feed off his scatter brain i knew he
was trying to win the girl back

that's the thing with women:
you see enough of them and enter their
personal space
you: realistically enter a harem
so there's no need to blow yourself up
for Islam and (a) Promise... of...
a harem:
me and my "ball and chain":

well... if she's 56 and i'm 38
and there's than new film about about
Anne Hathaway and the IDea of yOU

i promised myself not to have
a ******* and i didn't
but just across from me on the Metropolitan Line
two classical Sappho types:
the type of lesbians that make out
across from you on the train
because you have nothing for an ego
and there's no narrative in your head
you're just this emptiness gravity
sitting down looking
at these two lesbians making out
and they're trying to be lesbians
really hard
but at the same time they start touching
each other
so... you start touching yourself
like: massaging your legs and your neck
and then the so-so lesbians
look like: oh ****! we need a *****!
a living breathing *****!
not the deconstruction of man of: just
a phallus: **** me! get a cucumber
but the sort of lesbians that are not butch
nor twisted rainbow nor political
just purely ******: they need a friend
type of *****: lezbo:
and that's all fine and dandy
but i figured: if this open gay sexuality
can happen: transcendental
then let's not be ableist or ageist about
who we are biochemically drawn to:

i admit in 20 years when Edie's ****
and clothes with smell of grey and moths
maybe then i will shove
fern leaves up my nose:
exchange the warm tingling kiss of chilly
juice for the sting of nettles
and call it cotton: but until then...

there are three language settings in Japanese
and yes: twice at the Fudge Packers
concert and twice at Taylor Swift:
like: i can't imagine this devilish Elvis
(who had a ****** life, seriously)
having any *** at all: Taylor Madonna...
i managed to chirp at least 10 friendship
bands
the last one i exchanged with a 6 year old
groupie who
mesmerized me with my grief over other
exchanges of friendship bands
so she gave me one with
a cocktail of watermelons, kiwis, oranges,
strawberries, lemons and that made my day
because another 20 year old groupie took
my prized possession of a band with metalic
swifts: yes... actual birds...

but like me and Matt were saying:
two years ago... two years?
Red Hot Chili Peppers at the London stadium:
day one opened with
All Around the World...
day two?
opened with
Can't Stop.... or the other way round:
either way! either way...
as a citizen going to a concert having
no experience of multiple bookings
of an artist at a venue
you don't really THINK about the SET LIST...
clearly...
Taylor Swift is an ARTIST...
just like Lloyd Webber is an artist
and there's the Phantom of the Opera production
and that's also Kierkegaard
and the Changelessness of God

but like Anthony Kiedis said
of John Frusciante: the psychotic -
these guys are no longer ARTISTS: they are:
MUSICIANS!
Taylor Swift isn't a musician: she's an artist:
and like any artist: she's not endowed with
some crazy creative demon
of uncontrollable energy to have to lose
and recycle material or just become
insatiable and confrontational like
a brick wall or the sea or gravity...

meh... MERCH! merchandise!
        ugh: honing in: i too bought a t-shirt...
well... two... i caved in...
the silly idiot moi so-so...

                          i'd still give an arm and a leg
to get to see Boris Brejcha...
i don't need to know his personal story:
but yes, he apparently escaped with burns
and bruises from an airshow where
a plane crashed and he discovered Mozart
in electronics / electronica...
so DJing is not so lazy after all?
funny: conjuring up melody with only ticks
and drums and rhythm
because there are no woodwinds
and certainly there's no frantic fried egg jazz
to be the antithesis of classical
which jazz was but
electronica is the antithesis of jazz
it's what i'd call RE-

BIG word: big WORD:
i can't even spell it i have custard for brain
my best estimate is
(even with the use of algorithm,
i'm yet to invest dyslexia into AI usage
via chatGPT so who knows)

COMPROMISING is close... super: cl>o<se...
but not there, yet... yeti yeti yet...
on shift when i repeat myself
over and over again i turn into a slur and slobber
monster i think my tongue is a gigantic worm
that's suffocating me... or at least gagging (me)

one more try: RE-
electronic music > jazz > classical
not necessarily > or <
but what other punctuation marker?
| ...            perhaps: i'm starting a mixology
of e. e. cummings and OLSON
so... let's see...

COMPARTMENT + RE-
spells out, what?
ANALYZING                       that's a pretty picture

i'm actually not, going to,
scribble the correct spelling
of the word that's burning up my brain!

and so much other **** in between
Big Mo was trying to steal my sunglasses
on at least 4 prior shifts...
i forgot my sandwich and coat last shift
managed to stash it: picked it up on cordon
DC3 on Olympic Way
fair enough fair enough...
o.k. have my sunglasses: until next shift
point being so much mush and ****
i'm having to have to build in a FILTER...
veil... membrane:
it's like reality is hyperventilating and
i'm not on any hallucinogenics but
i'm getting so many cues in terms of
what's being communicated
that hearing about Islamic Terrorist attacks
on Christian folk is one thing...
but then hearing about the crushing stampedes
on the Road of the Hajj
and at the place where they stone the devil
(Mina)
ha ha!                  ******* win-win scenario:
you know what i mean?

one thing to put pebble on a pebble
and call it a redemption of the continent of Africa
via the Egyptian "clairvoyance" of:
let's leave something behind for future
generations to remember us for...
and another to throw a ******* rock: at a rock!
magic!

yes: i am the devil: a humanist:
god? yeah: he's the theorist of humanity
nothing personal
but if you have ******* gaseous and liquid
equations like water can contain salt
and the cauliflower sponges of clouds
and blah blah blah
then god is the worst kind of humanist
he's an anti-humanist...
a calculator there's no personality
attached to god
god is not a person
however you think god in trinity might be:
**** me
some magical telepathic extended thing
of Descartes? well he did try obliterating God
almost all philosophers of the circa
8th - 19th centuries tried to obliterate god
until Nietzsche finally said: ASK the FINITE ***
for CARROT then the SCHTICK...

welll) d'uh this isn't readership friendly
but i didn't just read Finnegans Wake
and admired the struggles of Delmore Schwatrz
for no reason...
pressed too long on the L without shift...

in terms of women...
and i've been with prostitutes and i've interacted
with Swifties so i have
a plethora of experience
not to say i'm in any position: advantaged to
"abuse" or reap... or... m'eh...
*** is *** but kinda of pointless
if not procreative...
so *** ON and *** OFF...
there's a switch when not investing pro-creatively
but then i don't want the hassle of
my own bad seed
so tending to a foreign body that's not
my own is ego-soothing
because i have no emotional investment:
just an emotional commitment:
and that's different because
it allowed me to morph my original idealism
of women
into an alternative idealism of women

point being:
of women: well... you won't get any BETTER...
you'll... you'll just get: DIFFERENT...
no better: just different...
after all: women are generic creatures...
you get to see that when a 90,000 event
takes place and egress is summoned, naturally...
men are unruly...
it's sad... it's sad that the concept of
individuality disappears
when people congregate...
people become stupid and no longer
bothered about individuation or democracy
or whatever they do privately
but cattle i understand and
i have my Cerberus Team on hold:
it takes about 5 people
to organize a Slaughterhouse of 300...
it truly does take only 5 dedicated Hosts
to push 300 Parasites through the Coliseum Turnstiles:

methodological: i'm not a Methodist...
i'm being clear cut precise:
it would be stupid not to learn anything from
the Nazis...
seriously: when it comes to crowd management
at large events, concerts etc
you'd be a ******* ******
not to learn from the Nazis...
how... how?! seriously?
what? how they managed to dupe all those
people into walking so serenely to
their death? is there any depiction of people
walking into the gas chambers
kicking and screaming like
children being born?!

                       hmm... not that i can recall:
plus if you see the number 90,000 in an elevated
crater as if a meteor just fell...
i'm not scared of heights...
but even i get the fiasco of vertigo
   on level 5: the whirlpool of a man made
open space:
clearly a meteor should have landed here:
but no... just man's ingenuity to allow
people to congregate and find imitations of god
with idol(s)...

ah yes... Polish could be almost like Czech
in that it could be lazy, slurry... from time to time...
i honestly have to mind this
in terms of language usage: English is provisional
Lingua Bas Franca etc
but i could become more Czech
(i have genetic roots in Bohemia)
in that:

JUS      can easily replace JUSZ
because: eh...        FABRI GAS... not GAZ...
i'm lazy and Polish is too strict for my liking
****... already:

it's not even jusz but już...
      but instead i can just say: jus... like i'm an imbecile
but rather: that's how Polish children
speak: naturally: partially Czech softly
and there's no real Russian softness
just blue blue blah blah harasho...
either way i'm going to be put into some
sort of category of "origins"
as not even Jesus was this Messianic Universal
He-Man...
so... why stress that i'll just be the Polish Matt?

did i miss something?
ah right... filter... i need to filter through
the past 4 days
and think about the best time to have a ****;
not now: i want to read one chapter
of Dune and some Olson poems.

— The End —