i like reading about urban living, primarily by accounts of Frank O'Hara -
no one else, to be honest - where i'm placed i can vocalise
both the vulgarity and the serenity of a Wordsworth -
better had i an art gallery to run,
but my heart is too stony to accept the
chanced frivolous - it's anything beside that,
chanced, basked in, celebration of life -
perhaps i am outdated, and i know i am,
succumb to Kantian idealism, and no strand
of realism - after going to a brothel and learning
a few things, i was told i was a good man -
never did ****, too eager to watch the ******* -
****** tied - and then silencing my ****** -
i guess that's how quasi-country-folk live
these days... i simply prefer the solitude,
not from self-love: but as a way of assurance -
and later assembling - but i learn of the lives
in urban areas, of their little pests and phobias,
of places where people congregate -
and i feel no inclination to do likewise -
i don't even know why i'm travelling to
say something at the Cheltenham festival -
i've got nothing to say...
                               i can create usurpers of older
men, and blind-spot the youth,
        and be incriminated for both actions...
because i can...
                              but there's still O'Hara to mind...
and "all that love he could give in **** pursuit" -
apologies if i don't share that,
  my mentor Spinoza learned as much
in other circumstances -
                         hence the twilight of the man
of contempt and great love -
   as said, paradoxically, frankincense is
a scent appropriated as possessing anti-depressant
properties... yet we speak of: the man of sorrows.
but about my pet peeve, linguistic, obviously:
    the french for hotel - hôtel -
mind you, not trilling the r with mutually respective
   examples of English and French, but nonetheless
harking the r and amputee h in French,
     hôtel - or h'ôtel or h)ôtel - the diacritic mark
above the o is like a bracket, or < (less than) what's
expected in tongue kitted to say:
                                               h'otel - or simply o(h) tel -
        so too garçon - with ç extending into s
   and said: garçon / garson -
                           or with grave markings on a vowel:
that eats all other letters after it: cut-off grave e (è) -
    thus too the circumflex abuses invisible in
Cockney slang, and the eaten up h - via 'appening -
   'n 'appens only ounce -
                                            indeed the fighting took
places above as well as below the 26 symbols -
  in the diacritical realm of stresses and other punctuation
deficiencies - colon over the u for the umlaut,
there the fighting took place -
                      in an urban environment, would i ever
have spotted this? among fast food outlets, neon
and art galleries? probably not -
so akin said: lawlessness above and below the alphabet,
the warring fusion - but so they should have said,
in Mandarin - beyond vowels and consonants,
there are Surd variations of both -
              for aesthetic reasons -
our natural borders -                          and there are also
                    diacritical / exemplified stresses of
both sexes of letters -   some are silenced, some are
pronounced... they never told us that...
               they simply bragged about how naked
English was, and how certain people picked up
all the major eccentric intricacies -
                       to create a bourgeoisie levelling of
what's content with being a noun: intelligence.
there are rules beyond the five vowels and 21 consonants,
in that there's a trans-linguistic appropriation -
some become surds, some become pronounced -
   third limbs, six fingers, or Siamese twins -
                     given the book of revelation, and the phrase:
given power over all tongues - apart from ideogram
languages - and Arabic sidewinders on sand dunes -
you could, technically, incorporate all the particular stresses
onto the English language from all the Latin alphabet
languages... you could, in effect, paint onto all the
English particulars, all the brimful expressions of
diacritical marks being missing: English eccentricities -
you could, in effect, paint, once you have mastered
all the punctuation of pronunciation above the letters,
and below, not unlike (that that) what's already
deemed appropriate between words: i mean actual
letters - attach one diacritical mark to Finnegans' Wake,
and the whole work crumbles... you could effectively paint...
once you mastered the many particular instances of
atypical English deviation - making English, a language
less offensive in a sense that it already is:
for English is offensive in that its universal,
a franca lingua of commerce - and since that is the case:
there must be a status quo lingua - in this case:
English with diacritical marks - expressing all the
obvious deviations - this process, i am gleeful in stating:
will take as much effort as mapping out man's d.n.a.,
that's not pompous, that's actually hopeful,
hopeful in the sense that i spotted this, and someone
will take over in 50 years time, to incorporate
all the public uses of diacritical marks in other Latinißed
languages a pompous: congregation -
nesting on the bare rocks - after all that 16th and 17th century
******* in England and tongue and Empire: doth do, etc.
modernity says? Irvine Welsh's trainspotting Scootish
dialect excess - aye wee and e -
only when all the diacritical propositions are congregated
in the English Eden will we sing hallelujah -
this is a challenge, after all, English with its
Welsh and Scottish, Berkshire and Cornish, Cockney
and Richmond fluffy accents can be feed
this invasion of nuances already expressed:
thus in abstract:                      ABSTRACT

(originally herioglyphs)
        heliographic                     (v. the ideogram -
                                                      or no pyramid to ditto)
        and thus the heliocentric theory -
countered with this, or these the 26 fractions
      of the geocentric notion, England: bellybutton
of the world - as such... helioglyphic - glitches
  or graphics or glyph-on-glyph in that x = y combined with
   x squared and the parabolic curvature and foundation |)
                geographic - geoglyphic -
when then the Greenwich meridian turn into
the Greenwich universal accenting?      English
is fertile ground to apply the many stresses,
                                   sure, make it the universal tongue,
the globalisation vehicle, but dress yourself for that purpose,
accept all the invaders to your schemes invoking the 24/7 global
community... **** up! don't tartan up! **** up!
            with the wigs and the perfumes, and the bowler hats
and the neckties - you did it once... do it again!
                English is fertile ground for incorporating all
the linguistic "anomalies" - sure, little would look ugly if
written litle - soon to the invocation of lyre - or saccharolytic -
    dog's tongue lapping and a thousand slurs later:
                     cha cha cha and kappa and cholesterol
     and cheap and chasing foxes with bloodhounds -
                         and cappuccino - and chisel - chromosome:
                                          cistern (alter. çistern) -
    if something akin to this doesn't happen...
          we're all be playing the Mongolian harmonica,
by default of the 24 hours that are stressed to
be as important as an entire year of patience in waiting
for autumnal grapes and the wine pressed.

i love the way,
you put a smile on my face,
all the weird litle things
got me, thinking on the chance
of living again, or trying to thou,

the ways of looking back in secret,
the way you look like her, the lion owner,
the ligth of lights knows, someday i will
live, even if she owns my heart, some other will
accept that, and be with me, hopefully, and knowing
that my heart is not mine anymore.

that is my prerrogative anyway, a shared beast
a lover that will love you entyreli, and faithfully,
but knowing that in secret, he two, loves another
the same way he may love you, and that is it,
no catch or trap, no ******* crap, just an inpossible
story, that will remain for ever, secretly, respectfully.

silently and faithfully taken, a romantic beast, a lover
and a fool, a ****** killing beast, with love capacity
and a faithfull lover, adoring you, but knowing,
that he loves another, and for ever will,
if my heart can be shared, and i know it can,
she could be the other one, owning the lion's heart.

hopefully that other one understands,
there is storys that never end, last and last,
as looks in the distance, will never end,
and the distant lovers, will always be that,
distant and inloved, dispice the odds,
and dispice the distance, but that is all.

the heart is strange, and whimpsy, so
maybe i could love you, as i love her,
no buts, just that, i trie to forget, and trie to
not care or look back again, that don't work,
so crazy the litle secrets in the lion's heart.

dispice that, i will love again.
find someone, then, loving her,
she may know already, i could love her,
make her mine, **** his pups,
take her in heat, making her mi lioness.

a litle beasty girl, to love,knowing,
that the half of my heart can be hers.
the other half, is owned, and for ever
will be.

many years ago in the tower of tunselous a man named tunselous was born
he gave birth to androsss ****** parents then he made his way to
rosswell new mexico to see if the ufo was still there and it wasnt
at tall tis but a forrest and a spot were a ufo used to be there was no
ufo so he traveled upwards to find one but instead found thee icy tower
of agnatohniousisoy he wnet on the great ice towar run where he found several dragons but not a single ufo
a man of tis a warden eve e preson seed no matter how hard you look
the ufos will cloak like ice dragons among there once was a man named turok
who find a ufo when looking add that man was me that man was a dino slayer
a king of eriched oreo bread if you know what i mean the point of the matter is
turok did not **** tunselouses parent for no reason then tunselous
said wait turok killed my pairents the warden said yes that is waht he
told me on the nyght we had tea on the icy roads of ufo city
tunselous said wait theres a hole cit7y of ufos the warden said yes
there is tunselous said do you have any left over tea from that night
the warden said no tea for thee then cast tunselous out of window
tunselous falled for inches into a pool of cat eyed johns fisherer
for impaired divers tunselous said wait if i eat theese pills they
will surely give me magic powers tunselous ate the pills and they did
nothing but give him magic powers he used the magic powers for nothing
they were not the ones he were searching many kingdoms ago a man once
said with great tun comes great selous and that man was trokie asked tunselous
if he wanted a robodog and tunselous said yes many kingdoms later tunselous find
the most magic thing that thing was a cat not any cat you see many kingdoms ago
cats were magic he would eat the flesh of cats and gain what litle magic was left in them
he latter went to calling himself tunsalous then he went back to
calling himeself tunselous and on that day he ate many a cat
and i mean many not the many you see on tv but the many catwhips you see for sale at sean johns
apple sale he has evrey year to get rid of his crapy apple computers
many years after sean john would meet on the very spot of the battle
feild where they fought and feasted on goatwich anvicos the goatwich
waS A POWERFUL king a king of druidness and fareness and evilness and
and gun shots in the leg and fair treatment of tunselous and kettlecorn
a bag of human limbs and markers and grocers and ****** enounters
and farawayland and great houses and ufos tunselous relized that
thee king was king of ufos and wnet to asked him for a ufo
and he gave him one and tunsalous studyed how it flyed
for many kingdoms later he discoverd powerfull magic within the the great temples walls of icelion
yes temples and temples and temples temples and temples and temples temples and temples and temples
temples and temples and temples temples and temples and temples temples and temples and temples
temples and temples and temples temples and temples and temples and small children small children were used
for many thing like eating but the story tunselous was not over intell many kingdoms later when a man asked
tunselous if he was a puppet tunselous said tunselous snear and left for a day and came back
to his homeland of akaria where the hut he was born in was the hut tunselous was born in was a small hut cald
tunselous prisom the prisom was a place to eat anything you felt like at anytime you felt like
and i mean anytime
any
time
tunselous traveled to double check on the ice roads but they melted in the sun tunselous drunk
thee blood
they were made of and walked into a stadium and stole mines and huts like the one he was born in like it but
not it like the time he went to the carnavile with ser topemhat (ser topemhat:hey tunselous got a nickle for a ride tunselous: no)
many times of ages ago tunselous traveled to a hut then left to find gold in a mine that did not exist he knw it did
not exist but he wnet anywhy for kingdom is power and power kingdom is the power to control what we belive are granerys
the long celebrated granery special was rice and pancake with a glass olive oil only men of magic get milk and
grand wizards get tea and some hard boiled plates the plate were not to eatbut to eat off of
for many kingdoms and men who day thing of kingdoms would be cast down a sean shower a sean shower was a shower where shawns lived
and bathed and ate the flesh of wales and and somtimes a shawn would *** to tunselous house and they would have *** all day day than he
relized the shawn name was andross and you know who andross was but they did it anyway back to the main topic a house on top of a hill
on top a of a mountain on top of and iceberg on top of a gateway to the best place ever there was only only one way to the best place ever
that is if you were tunselous
evrey day on that day evryone would eat anything they could eat that is how tunselous day started the day that is evreyday the
reason people eat what they want evreyday and not tea or olive oil or milk or rice or pancake or plates or cats or small children
in the words tunselous:
shal not eat u
eat blood of nurses
hav the most *** with any cat you see on the street
use the most elctro sappers in one go
have and eat local small children
do it with a orc
eat u up eat up so good
use magic *****

THAT IS WHY WE SHOULD TALK ABOUT HOW TUNSELOUS GAVE US THE FREEDOM TO EAT WHATEVER WE WANT EVREYDAY FOR AT LEAST 2 HOURS.

if you see any dragon contact tunselous NOW

the details of the next story are witness accounts of what tunselous did to find the lost yew crossbow of agroness

two days ago tunselous was thinking about crossbows when he thought what if there were a crossbow no one could
find what if i found it i would be rich and famous so tunselous went on the internet and typed in lost crossbows
and he saw a crossbow for sale instead of buying it he tracked down the person who owned it and asked him for it he said no tunselous killed him
on the spot and took the crossbow from him and sold it to himself for 800$ but surprise for him he was not rich and famous at least not yet he took the crossbow and
kept selling it too himself so he kept making money soon tunselous made 800$ and spent it on a used crossbow this crossbow
the crossbow he brought was not any crossbow but the crossbow of agroness he took the crossbow and shot it at a wall a few times then he put it in a box
and til this day it is gathering dust.

THAT IS WHY TUNSELOUS IS A MASTER HEADSMEN TO THIS DAY.

1
Faerie, fey, in a windless stride
Along the verdant wood and wild
Beasts, so are, here do abide
Yet this urban life, maxims beguile.
So true, the only beast is man
Though he’s born of claw, the tooth
By birth it’s of the haft
Dagger, gun, and perfidious craft.
Apart, I see only one
Together, sparks to bring, undone
Me, for this, I dare not stand.
Such impropriety, a fellow’s creed
Rich are all in my mother tongue
Speak volumes for their egotism,
And seemingly endless greed,
Divest from it, with righteousness,
With acts they before shun.
Bah! To clean air and streams to follow
Network of the aimless vein
Blood for the vindicated!
Whilst they proceed to their empty smog
And free wills ever truncated
Marching headlong and abreast
To Hell they step in tow.
Never mind those evils done
My cure is in anathema, unchained
The inner man, the wild!
Autonomy, dumb, and pure!
I am the center of starry pull
I’m the individual, in me all is whole
I am the blot, the rebel, and the Wife of Lot!
A mark upon the cosmichead
My material exists, destined to rot
But, this death, it shall be free
Unlatched from this society.
No more shall these orchestras
Be condemned to prune as sighs
Now to high monastic chants
To venerate this life of mine.
Every corner of this brick and mortar
Keep us penned, like cattle adorned
In slacks and ties, agendas several miles high
This Fetish-Messiah, Banality
Makes sweet the cuds of humanity
None of this impurity can exist beneath
The canopy, foundation’s wrought of Ego’s dust
Pretense, a star, of foundry of the Heaven’s cusp.
#2
**** this, i have returned
the scwl of the citi
So litle and worthless
Huge slabs of grey metal
--failed of my conviction
i’m knowing in the sense
of Tao (dao), mute and confused
Tying to remove it
farce and utopia!
This cow is really low
Munching on—now, I know
As the faeries said
“At cross, betuta, moss”
What mean, all nonsense. All!
#3
The city was always upon my soft palms
That chaffed when I struck for a flame
The vanity hung in loose little threads
When my sleeves fell tattered, the same
It was through my teeth, my fellows did breathe
Strangers upon the tongue
I saw in the water the face of them
And heard them in my curses  
A stranger voice said “we” and “them”
Had genesis’d these verses.
It was those about me who birthed the world
As I had done for them
Momentum! Be quick! For fellow man!
As I am
As you are
The other’s cosmic order
I’ve built the structure I can deny
But with undeniable mortar.

As emotion rushed to me
and through me
On that first day we met
You were an Angel
An Angel with spiked
Black
***** Hair
I heart bursting
overflowing with love
copassion
Empathy
Pain
Abandonment
Guilt
and Rage
you hid them well
deep within
Your
tough exterior
Cloaked by your jet black
spiked doo
You were my Angel
I just knew
Instant bond
I bound to you
My day dream shatered
As you spoke
with kindness
You were ther to say your
Goodbyes
To all who knew you
fairly well
I was not
part of this crowd
So see
It's fate working its magick
For you to leave me now
Would be just tragic....
You came to bid your crowd farewell
You'd be leaving that afternoon
You would be leaving way too soon
I saw you.
I approached
I introduced myself.
You replied with kindness
You knew of me
So much
for our friendship
it would now never be
With tear filled eyes
I made my plea
Oh, please
Jackie,
Don't leave me!
I just cannot go!
..I have just now found you
I am here all alone
no  mother
no sisters
no brother
no one
to care
for no
one
to love
No one
to laugh
with
happy hearts
Always
alone
With hopes
so high..
Always
have been
left
behind
Left standing
on my own
holding on to the
smallest memories
of a time of laughter
a time of peace
A time without
time where no one
ever leaves
Behind
the little
girl Soldier
still at war
a
war
worth
winning
some...
...anyone's
love
yours
is most
special see
so
Please
don't leave
Your words
told
a story of
reumions and laughter
As tears fell
from my eyes
my heart
crushed
under
the weight
of
Memories
they remind me
of cruelty
of a
careless
disregard
shown
the
little girl
soldier
you had never known
she
was dying inside
from wounds deep into her soul
Only years later  
would the
Angels reveal
why
had
brought
you
there
The day
you met  
the
little girl
soldier.
The day
you ended a deadly war
You put out fires
And tore down bridges
You held my hand through 20 more years.
You are my Angel
Thank you
for being with me
From that day until this...
You held me through many troubled fits
Some lasted minutes
other years.
you never left me
YOu never grew tired
The litle girl soldier loves you still
without her tears


love
a




I think back to that moment

Her pink dress matched
with her pink, satin shoes.
She was so excited.
All was brand new.

She twirled around
in her little, pink dress.
She loved to twirl.
It was always the best.

She wore it to school and church
and even for a few birthdays.
She dressed it up and down
in all different ways.

She one day outgrew that dress
which made her sad,
but that dress lasted
and she was glad.

Later on in her life
she was truly blessed
with a precious, little girl
who she put in a little, pink dress.

And in your eyes y find
Miself, in your female
hands

I am Defrosting in
Your arms, mi Defensive
coldness, the rigth way

In your eyes in find miself
In your females hands
Mi cold is lost loving your warmth

And a sensual scent caress me
all day, and the music in your female chest, complete, a Lioness

And in your eyes i find miself, in
Your female hands

The smell of your body, is mi beautiful dawn, in the cold nigth on mi soul

Dark echoes of pain, and betrayal
Defrosting between your arms, by kissing your skin

And in your eyes i found miself,
In your female hands,

And Your thighs, mi truth,
My eden, the scent of your body
Is my beautiful dawn

Works better on spanish

Y en tus ojos me halle,
entre tus manos de mujer,
me deshielo entre tus brazos

Y en tus ojos me halle,
Entre tus manos de mujer

Y mi frialdad se esfuma, adorando
Tus petalos, besando tu calides

El frio de mi pecho, se entibia por ti,
Y tu esencia me acaricia todo el dia

Y la musica en tu pecho de mujer completa, dice algo sobre mi

Y en tus ojos me halle, entre
tus manos de mujer

El aroma de tu cuerpo es mi bello amanecer, en la noche fria de mi ser
Y en tus muslos, mi verdad y el eden

Y el aroma de tu cuerpo es mi bello amanecer.

day ride, after night shift, runnin forgetting, and
always letting go, love is not enough, with a slave of their trade

y write with the spits on my face, and assume that you will understand
that,  months ago all end up, with out even star, vaya con dios, or wiTh the ala, and please let my ******* go.

after all the shame of the spits on my face, strong and short and smeling like a pig, you were right, i'm all of those and, c'est fini, after all
i'm just a game an easy game, relax live your life, and please let me tha **** ALONE, after all, to special and to sweet, is a good thing matte,

am mellow to the core like thoreau's autumnal sun, a lover, that for the girls how love creeps, still can't love and be loved , and it was all about that little creepy, shiit, blocking and destroying mi life, so he could feel like ubermensch, so vaya con dios, and please let me ******* go, dance with zeus or ala, or your little creepy ****, after all 7 months ago y let you go.

theres no rage or pain, just disappointment. this lover and this beast is to special, for you, to sweet and stinky and short, so please let me go, and vaya con dios, this is the end beautiful not me friend,
i'm friend with a little boy that is my  litle bro,

and the one how harm this little bro, is going to pay it all,
after all the pain after all the little rapes, after all the creep liking me as as y was sleep, after all, still you help him, and put me in danger, so shut a **** up, and,  just let me ******* go, this is a clear, adios, rad, the last two have one line for you this is all yousr kid, could y, shure.

i'm already gone, and i don't want you in my life, take mahomas hand and fly to the sun, i'm going alone, and love maybe knocks on my door, and
after all still i'm here saying to you, vaya con su dios,

once I saw a blue moon
shedding the underworld
of thought and time
it wallowed in a pink sea
where out of the depths
sea blossoms came
to be beyond the rain
to be beyond the rain
and a litle bird found
a pool of dreams
the birthing pool
then she was gone
flying under a soft black sky
growing hope after
beyond the rain
beyond the rain
whose creations and distractions
are the prossessses
that are necessary to show
the true feelings
hidden beneath the surface of things
beyond the rain
beyond the rain
where there is a combat
a struggle between darkness and light
the emotional duality of life
BETWEEN THAT WHICH IS
AND THAT WHICH HAS ALREADY BEEN
beyond the rain
beyond the rain

time  
when your 5 it has no meaning
by 7 it means mealtimesbedtimesplaytimes   school

16 it seems to stretch again
but not like that of aged 5
just endless waits to be 18  
there is too much you haven't seen

18 not nearly old enough so much to get so much to do
you think that time always waits  for you    
                                                                                                                                
then 28 starts to feel a litle late you've realize the mistake
time doesn't go on it has a break

35 are you alive?  
life swallowed up in others lives...

ah 55!
time to "revive" go on and on till all days ends
and 'time" has gone around the bend
without
you

Aw hell no!
Shut the front door!
You're not welcome in on my secrets no more.
Don't tell me what's right,
Cause I'll tell you what's wrong
With all your litle lessons you've been preaching so long.

She sat up on a building so high, looking down at all the litle people. She thought of all the pain she has had in her heart. Her broken, beaten, and abused heart. She shouldn't have trusted him from the start. She looked up at the midnight sky and tried not to cry. She stood on the edge and lifted her wings to fly.

There is river that we drift upon.
Keep thinking we're making it, but then we drown.
You're full of sorrow and I'm full of bubble.
All we seem to feed  upon is each other.
We thrive upon wonderful music taste and litle bits of trouble.
I'm trying to reach you.
And still I float.
Riding the waves on a rackety boat.

You need to know I love you.
I know you love me too.
I'm  there to support you.
Together so long.

We can't do right for doing wrong.
Waking up with you is precious.
Sleeping with you,
Well it's just the best.
Lets fight to survive
We're both still alive.
I'm there for you and you are for me.
Frankie.
I don't wanna be free.
(C) LIVVI MMXV

i see a litle corner of red
and my mind ignites infinity
aided by the history of mind
mechanics oh so magnifiscent

the progress is progressive
the power is for sure
the mind of men is future
again again so intensive

i am ignorant of what has been
i see not the past as manifest
but i am here now thinking
the dead are the masters

in the background... Howie B's: fizzy in my mouth / your mouth....

i'm rarely given these rare opportunities of late,
where i sit down to have a few whiskey
sharpshooters, smoking less and less cigarettes
(mobile sheesha is the way to go,
cherry... i'm still to try the blueberry liquid)
and thinking: what is it that i want to write?

but sometimes, after doing some manual labour
around the house and... this time the garden
i.e. putting up a wooden arch... trying to salvage
my grapevine... nice work...
   the mind relaxes when the body is exerted...
the joy of not thinking: whether that's
reflexive thinking or long: "profound" instances
of reflective thinking... because the body takes
over reality while the mind checks out...
      
but i was watching this video about dating...
a girl saying she's not fit for the dating scene
because she's a bad-*** *****...
and she could undermine any man's masculinity...
dyed hair... baseball cap worn backwards...
tattoos up to and including her neck...
and these two Aussie guys commenting...
(x) said... she reminds me of my ex-girlfriend...
there's this specific charm about a woman
who likes to give off stand-offish vibes...
      (y) said... i'm put off by women like that...
i prefer feminine women...
swearing is out of the question... blah blah...
    i just walk away (says y): terrible vibes...

i have to agree with (x)... i too dated a girl like
that... although... she was more into dread hair...
piercings and obviously tattoos...
   she swore like a cobbler
   and i was into that... she even wanted to convert
me to turn my long hair into dreads
and given she was into tattoos... she wanted
to give me a tattoo...

    i refused both invitations...
it wasn't even a: "it's not me, it's you" /
   when you love someone you don't want to change them...
well... she did finally remove those piercings in
her lips... her body reacted terrible to all that iron...
crusty lips... i told her: you either take them out
or i'm not going to kiss you^,
    tattoos? no...
   dreads?! double no...
           well, i wasn't going to tell her to get rid
of her tattoos... that would be sort of "racist"...
in a funny sort of way... since what's done is done...
but she got rid of her dreads...
even though i didn't ask...
             i just told her... i have a manic pixie dream-girl
fetish... i was obsessed with the film Garden State
at university... no... that's a lie...
i was obsessed with the song from the soundtrack
of Garden State:
    the Shins' New Slang...
   one night i climbed the scaffold that was erected
when New College... Old College?
    was being renovated in Edinburgh...
                    the Law College...
                                  it was such a beautiful night
to climb up and sit and dance on the roof...
       listening to that very song...
                   that's when i thought i wouldn't fall
in love: in that untidy sort of way...
and that love would only be something imaginary
in my head or in the words of Stendhal's
the Crimson and the Black....

she turned from being this dread-head baggy jeans
sneakers and band t-shirts mad *****
to being... well... when i would put on linen
trousers and a linen shirt... and leather sandals...
she would put on a very pretty dress -
and we would enjoy ourselves in the St. Petersburg
zoo... looking like a very fashionable couple...
or we would do something similar and go to the opera
to see Verdi's La Traviata...
                       she might have know a few bands...
she introduced me to In Extremo...
obviously i figured out: there are more bands exploring
  musikvölkisch... and i found them...
but she wanted to see Madame Butterfly...
   i said no and...
                      that's the thing about dating women...
they're always comparing other women...
in the opera she overheard two women
talking... i don't understand Russian to this day...
but they must have ****** her off...
for ****'s sake... i'd still rather say
КБAЦ
                    than read KВAC as KVAS /
kwas... not... with a Polish diacritical L: Ł...
i don't know how the Germans make
the ****** distinction, i.e. between the V and W...
it's not a double-U to begin with...
it's a double-V... off of Volkswagen...
     but i was thinking in three languages...
we dated speaking English...
   but in the back of my mind i had "mother" Poland
while she had "mother" Russia...
               and i abhorred her accent...
in England people ask me where i'm from...
but they can't really place the accent...
                    that's why they ask...
because i don't have an Essex accent...
i have a London: cosmopolitan accent...
                                            and that troubles people...

hell... i don't have any regrets...
i write fondly of her... even though she was
x, y & z of headaches... the *** was: for someone who just
turned 21... pretty ****... plus she introduced me
to Bulgakov... while i already knew about
Dostoyevsky... i don't even remember what
i introduced her to... jazz... something or other...
my grandfather once asked me:
don't you regret it?
             the older i get... i looked her up some years
ago... after me...
  she spiralled out of control... by the time she
reached 30 she was already on her second marriage
while i was starting to wake up from
my hermit's slumber...
            
but those girls must have really ****** her off...
they must have commented something akin to...
why is this troll of a girl with this good looking guy...
i mean: i wasn't a ******* Quasimodo in
my early 20s... sure... i took some psychiatric beating
in my later 20s... put on 50kg thanks to
the pills they prescribed me... but i managed to
beat 20kgs down... and... let's face it...
a guy in his 30s is not going to weigh a lean
weight that he did in his 20s... muscle...

even she used that same ****** tactic...
   comparing women... with the men they were dating
and how "superior" we were as a couple...
i just wanted to hide with her in the bedroom
and ****... because... over-charged with *******
since aged circa 8 i had to find a healthy canvas / outlet
for all the "suspense" / "condoms"... restrictions
of the "nunnery"...

^mind you... i found myself peeling at the scabs
on my face and eating them...

so gentleman (x) and (y) were talking about this girl
with tattoos and blah-****-blah syntax
and dyed hair and it go me thinking...
gent (y) used the term...
APOSEMATISM...
               that's what prompted me...

i think i need to write that word in the Greek alpha-,
απoσεματισμ...

can we have a "debate": "orthographically",
not that i'm an expert
                e-psilon vs. e-ta
             i.e. within the confines of -σε-
                                               vs.              -ση-       ?

but i already know the answer...
it's e-psilon and not e-ta for the simple fact that...
you can't translate handwriting
into letter-digits...

    i.e. -σεμ-            vs.            -σημ-
  
   although... hmm... that's a tough one...
after all... it's a question of orthographical-aesthetic,
yes, i know that i once stressed that orthography
is related to the use of diacritical markers...
the modern Greeks overuse them...
they're so pedantic about them...
                       they're almost reinvented Byzantine
bureaucracy...
             but it's hard not to discount Charles Dickens'
misnomer use (misuse) of the term orthography
when examples cited are as pointless as: little is to litle...
aesthetically? obvious reasons...
since English is so rigid in its past...

one example in English... but we're not talking individual
letters...
          θought & φilosoφy...
              F ******* F... back to back...
but... enter the Romans and there's no a distinction
of meaning: even though the sound is the same:
one's TH-ETA the other is PH-I...

just like i could never be a novelists...
novels takes weeks, months... years to write...
i couldn't layer my efforts for that long... i couldn't use
camouflage of lost interest: regained interest...
person life / struggles... enjoying life...
sitting in a coffee shop... doing a ******* Ernest
Hemingway's hunting trips to Kenya...
absinthe drinking sessions
         and hunting trips to the back of his head...
bloating in agony like Bukowski...
                         idealising love...
                           oh sure... i have one of those...
and she's a nun going by the name of Norma...
what a ******* name... a bit like Norman...
even Otto is more palette friendly... for the ear...
unless... hearing someone eat with their mouth
open is almost like... hearing the sounds mollusks
make when fudge-packing their ego-skeleton-imaginations...
because: that probably does happen...
from time to time...

    what's so bothersome about the Chinese
and the O? if they have to complicate "matters"
with their skeleton of 圆?
  to hell with building the great wall...
when... nonetheless the Mongols will still invade?!
you really need an "explanation"
of a circle bound to a square?

i have to feign... some details...
i has been a blessing to have experienced a bicycle
accident days prior to my shift...
just days after my *******...
because it was unlike any *******
bound to *******...
it wasn't one girl riding my phallus while
another shoving her **** into my face
where i wanted to be bound to a third person:
looking in...
this was much better...
i was simulating... i wanted to **** both their
faces with my eyes...
how?
        i was cuddling up to one of them jerling me off...
while the other one was looking on massaging my
testicles not getting ******...

i did state a change of auditory "flimsy"...
man with no name - own the world...
this ******* was unlike what
******* sells...
this ******* was...
one was jerking me off
and i was cuddling up to her neck
while the other felt abandon...
if you're ******* two girls at the same time...
at least one needs to feel neglected... jealous...
i wanted to see both of their faces...

it's a good "thing" that after having this *******
had my bicycle accident...
it was a reality check...
                best to feel the ultimate pain
after receiving the ultimate of pleasure...

it's that word again... APOSEMATISM..
at work... i've been working with them...
*****.. butch-lesbian stereotypes...
heavy rings... tattoos...
some come with dyed hair... some come
with crew-tops...
me? i come with bruises...
i get... hurt... i'm currently coughing
and my chest hurts... when i cough...
will i see a doctor? ha ha... since the pandemic...
i've seen a dentist in Poland...
good luck in England...
to hell with the Hippocratic Oath...
if they don't care... i don't, care...
no... sorry... it's not how it works...
              
APOSEMATISM...
at work... these butch *****...
she dyes her hair purple... she collects
serpents... i ask her... what about spiders?
she's like... fair enough...
     they have piercings... they have tattoos...
i have bruises...
ooh... itch...
                      the beta-males surround me
looking for conversational protection...
sure... i'll talk...
   let's talk... Heidegger's hammer?!
*******... silence... i must be feeding the intellectual
escapade of gnats!

half of me is being realistic...
half of me is being insulting...
i don't know which is which!

St. Cyril made a **** poor job of morphing
the Glagolitic lettering away from Greek...
let's face it... Cyrillic looks like the cheap version
of Greek... ***** and their dyed hair...
their piercings... their rings...
their tattoos.... woman: 'ard! ugh!
their crew-top hair...
      but when they see a guy with...
bruises that could have been tattoos...
how they back off...
                                      
there's this girl Emma who collect serpents...
dyed purple hair... insecure **** in the making...
i mention spiders... to counter her obsession
with snakes...
what... could... possibly... be... wrong...
with... either... cats... or dogs?!

but bruises tell a better story than tattoos...
better pain translate...
oh, sure... you want to be readied
at clinging to something serious...
you sometimes stand around these puppets walking
around: his eye is bruised... blah blah..

yeah... these butch girls have tattoos...
i have... scars... i prefer scars to tattoos...
what?!
     ink is expensive...
                       pain is freely given!
children sort of adore people with scars
than tattoos...
         i love children... they adore authenticity.

I have the kinds of clouds
I can see any thing in
scrying of some sort, I suppose,

within the limits of the medium
and level of my focus

smoke signals from the future
formed of seens
and beens and wee'uns
un done

we words appear magical
for their very lievibility,
being havable

lievitate too late and
its back three
degrees
levels
squares
planes
fractals in the foam

the idea
else --- the other any than this one,

you know, evil elses are lies,
at the moment.
Ever began a while ago.

We, the we we are in, as read word
agents intending imbalance
in our favor, we, the living,
the winners
from when the fix
was finished.

It all went dark,
a while.
snakes took the rap and snarled
like wolves
in heat,

all createdness groaned and
nue nuevo newity newifity

boo.
We breathe the air, and know
good and evil, and we urge
good enough to be

plenty. This is a fine place for mortality.

one line
some times, times and times one word
inaline

mylynating rhymes awhile 'cause some
tickle, as they ease open

long-locked ages of sages and singers and such

seers, we were ere prophecy was seen as special

seers said seeing was believing and all who saw believed.
put periods any where you need them,
commas, too. We agree. Sense has a need for grammar

fit for the medium able to push a message
at thought speed, with freeze
frame
line upon line, precept upon precept, here
a little there

As i wake up, and
The sun gets gently
To mi eyes, i become
Aware Of your
memorie, i blush and
Breath inspired

And the second minutes
awake, your scent comes
As an ocean Wave, Of Loved
By you memories, and

Mi nose become aware,
Of the feeling you provoque
And the loved perfume
Takes the beating heart,
To a new heigth, that never


Felt before, between the
Trust and your loved eyes, is
Your perfect stomach calling
To me, come and Kiss me,
your Body Said, and the loved
song, And the chosen Path

Trying awake in the Path,
Become AWAKEN, as i beastly
Make love to you, and this day Even feeling a litle scared Of this
Feeling Of love

As an iceberg, i pass threw,
life and games, pasión and
dasdein, loneliness and pain
To this loved by u state, i let
that go this afternoon, trying
With scientifc proofs,

I could live without your eyes,
To feelings that never where, and stories that i never live, but your eyes and the loved sensación are stronger than the artist pose, and the stoic Warrior state Of mind, So much for
This samurai at your feet.

Aware Of how dependent Of
You im becoming, i could let
It all go, but i cannot left you,
As a yunkie Of your eyes, and
adicted to you state Of mind

Never feel unsure Of mi love,
never felt this need Of somebudy,
Forever loving you state Of play, and The nigths with you become heaven, and  your'e  so BEAUTIFUL inside,
And (hot as friendly faces) that walk Next to me.


So just Be sure, your'e the loved one, That free and unatached to
Anything ir anybudy, i could only
if you choose it, let you go.

So fully AWAKEN  i'm,
becoming day by day,
As i LOVE YOU come and goes on our way, and On the terms we bouth choose, Nothing and no one execpt you, Could make me away from you,


And the blessed feellings you provoque, and the almost pain
i could almost feel, as your feet
Stumble to creeps, and i could almost let you go,  but the love and care
You awake in me, are a surprise,

As a loved man, or a chained
beast, i could usted to this, kind
Of dependance u make me feel,
The sensatión Of you Next to me.

Self Feeding System Digesting Gestating
Regurgitated Lies Insider Trading
Atmospheric Tension BI-Polar Shift
Entrenched IN THE Mire Builds Pressure TO Lift

Engorging NO Purging THE Feeling IS Urging
This Active Revolting Deep Sickness IS Surging

Organic Inbreeding
HER **** ARE Bleeding
This Sickness IS Seeding

Little Boys' Notion OF Self Possession
Setting IN Motion HIS OWN Regression
A Lack OF Self Assurity
Convinced OF HIS OWN Purity

Isolation
Alienation
A Nature OF Self Anihilation
Muscular Overcompensation
Dissociation
AND
NOW
AN
EGO
IN
Flames

WAR OF THE Words Each Symbol Provoking
AN Incantation That Summons Invokes
Minds Conform TO Cradle AND Cradle AS ONE
This Little BOY THE NEW Born SON

'I' Speak NOW Louder Than Words
YOU'VE Paid THE Price TO Shepard THE Herds
Mankinds Hubris MY Metal Skin Girds
ALL Souls Strewn FOR Scavvenger Birds
Souls Laid TO Rest FOR Scavenger Birds

They Deify Knees Pressed TO THE Ground
THE ******* OF Bale ' OF ******* Abound
OF Deafening Lies Speaks A Deafening Sound
Worship THE Power OF Little Boys Crown
Worship THE Power OF Litle Boys Crown

I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
ALL Souls TO Rest Little Boys Come Around
I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
THE Heart OF THE SUN IN Little Boys Crown
I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
THE Finger OF GOD Never Touches THE Ground
THE Finger OF GOD Never Touches THE Ground

I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
Souls Laid TO Rest Little Boys Come Around
I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
THE Heart OF THE SUN IN Little Boys Crown

I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
Souls Laid TO Rest Little Boys Come Around
I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
THE Heart OF THE SUN IN Little Boys Crown

I Beat MY Chest I Beat YOU Down
THE Finger OF GOD Never Touches THE Ground
THE Finger OF GOD Never Touches THE Ground

Nothing seems to matter when she took my hands and told me to follow her into the night we laughed we played we hugged we kissed my heart is burning  with passion and her firery lust she hits me like a train with I feel her skin agents mine every day disappears litle by little when my every hope and my every dream and my every day dream become reality am i going insaine or am i finally happy where i wanted to be

I'm grandad, the man who gets joy
From the two little girls, and one litle boy,
Their faces a reminder of all that I love,
Their laughter, their smiles, make me thank god above.
Their mother, my daughter, she makes me feel proud,
She has her struggles but stands in the crowd,
Despite her demons, she fights for whats good
And pushes behind her the bad things she should
Her futures much brighter without the blight
The decision to move on was perfectly right
So now I look on with that element of fear
But will fight for my loved ones, those that I hold dear
And will protect them forever, whatever the cost
Putting behind me, the years that were lost,
So onward and upward is the way to go,
Not wasting more time on that man we both know.

golden crumpets
toasting under the grill
butter and amber applebox honey
waiting to be spread  and fill
those litle wells of battered goodness

warm milk and cocoa, mingling in the cup
before dancing around for a minute
in the microwave....then tap dancing
with tantalizing richness on the tongue

this is midnight snackery at it's finest
all  sweet and decadent, touched by
whimsy and eaten in the silver moonlight

then it's back to bed with honey still
on lips.....making them sweet and smackery

This is not a poem, this is a story of a an 83 yr old man, that
got away with lying aboat his actual age, so he could box,
for the light weight Dallas County Iowa, championship.

"Howath is the name and these are my two knock out fists, Gerald
and Ron, and I'm here to sign up for the light heavy weight championship boxing title of Dallas County."

That was my official registration to the County boxing Commisson.
They of course ask me my age and some other questions related to
my boxing experience, to which I lied very convincingly.

By the way, the way to lie convincinly is to literally believe yourself what you are lying about. I had spent hours telling myself the lies I told the Boxing Commission, so they had no doubt about what I told them about my boxing experience. I even had some fake newspaper articles about my boxing experiences that I printed on my home printing press. I'll tell more about this later in this story.

What motivated me o do this, was the current chjampion was the
Grandson of one of my high school class mates that I detested, because h was such a proud blow hard, about every athletical thing
he did, from being a baseball pitcher, a running back football player,
a wrestler and on and on he bragged about himself. One time when
I could not somach his bragging and pompous ay he walked, I confonted him to his face, actually his chin, as that was as close to
his face I stood. He was aout 6' 4'' and I was slightly over 6'. I looked him in the eyes and told him I and every one else in school was sick
and tired of his bragging about himself.

He then sneared a me, reached down and gabbed me by the coller of my shirt, and said. "Why you little dumb pimpsqueet, you aint nothing but a hog raising farm boy!" and shoved me hard against
the hall way wall, so I smacked the back of  my head against it, and
knocked out for a few minutes, long enough for someone dumping a cup full of water on my face to bring me alert. Then ol blow hard
spread it around that I had attemped to hit him and he "just naturally" defended himself and gave me a little shove.

But back to the main part of this story, I had been working out in the city gym, workig on my cardio, thats my breathing. I had been keeping up with my physical condition all of my life, so for an 83 yr old man  I am in good physical shape. I have been punching the heavy bag on daily basis , and have had someone bouncing a heavy medicine ball on my stomach five minutes every day, so I have  those three muscle stand outs on my stomach, tht every body ooos and aaas about.

I also sparred with young boys around 20 and 30 years old, convincing them I was just 28, by my foot work and bobbing and weaving and left hand jabs. I still had a good head of hair, which I
had dyed a light black, which also convinced the boxing commission that I was 38, actually the year I was bornd, 1938

My boxing bout with the young grandson of this high school class mate that I detested, was suppoe to be just a warm up match for him, in preperation for a title fight. He was the Dallas County Light Heavy Weight champion defending his title against some unbeaten
opponant. My goal was to knock him out, and disqualify his title fight.

Oh yes, I neglected to mention my boxing manager, who was a young 62 year old retired boxer. He didn't grow up in
Dallas County, Iowa,  so he had no idea of my bckground age. He came from New York or New something.  I had him convinced that I was just 38 yrs old also. I grew up in a small town called Clive about 60 miles from Des Moines, were the fight was scheduld. Clive was a town with a population of around 2500 when I lived there. Most of the people who knew me are living under ground,
or in a old folks home, so the secret of my age will not be revealed.
,
This grandson of the school mate I detested, is just like his Dad, a smart mouth, bragging, pompous, cocky strutton show boat. He has no idea who I am, but has already started boasting about what he is going to do t me.

"Hey, I'm only 27 yrs old and this old man I'm fighting is 38 yrs old. Somebody will have to help him through the ropes to get in the ring." "What's an old man like him still thinks he is a boxer?

"He ought to be sitting on his back porch, watching the rabbits and squirrels hop around."

"He claims  to be 38 yrs old, I'll knock him out in 38 seconds in round 3."
   ,
He came to the gym when I was working out one morning to scout me out; I put on an act of being slow and winded.

He yelled at me from a few feet away, "Hey old man, my kid sister
has a faster jab then you. You sure you want to fight me?"

My manager walked up to him, and gave him a double arm shove
out the door, so hard he stumbled. "You big mouth punk, crawl
back in the skunk hole you came from."

                           The Big Fight

I was in the ring first, and was warming up wih litle dance steps I had had learned in a dance studio, which I intended to use on him, BTW  his name was Virgil Thornley, but he took pride in calling himself, "V T"=Very Tuff.

He was taking his time coming to get nto the ring,  and when he did decide to enter, he did so with a bunch of short skirted cheer leading girls dancing to loud music being played. When he approched the ring, two of the girls, squatted down on one knee and VT than made a big show of standing on each of their leg, and pushed himself off, tumbling over the ropes onto the ring apron.
amid 40,000 loud cheering fans.

"Enjoy it while you can VT, becaus in about 15 minutes, five three minute rounds, yu're gonna have 40,000 stunned fans looking at you, sprawled half way under the ring ropes, watchng the referee
waving the fight over."
                                ROUND ONE
JT came quickly to the center of the ring with a stupid looking
grin on is face, hands down, swinging back and forth at his waist level.

I took a couple steps towad him, then through him a big surprize,
that stopped him in his tracks. I did a little two step tap dance, and in the few seconds it took him to recover from surprize, I took a quick step toward him and shot out a left jab, purposly hitting
his right eye. Over my years of boxing experience, I developed a
fast twist at the end of the jab. This little twist would tear the skin
producing a cut in the eyebrow, which it did to VT. I don't think he had ever bee cut before by the way he wiped his eye, leaving his face unprotected, of which I took advantage, and smacked him with
another quick jab on his nose, drawing another spurt of blood.

VT wasn't expexcting such an early barrage of attack, and strted back peddling. Once again, I put on my little tap dance,
to a 40,00 applauding, whistling crowd of men, women and teen agers. By now ol VT had no idea what to do with me. He took a quick look over at his corner for help. And when he did I took a big step foward and planed to quick left jabs on each of his eyes.

I heard the fight annoncer telling the radio listners, he had never seen such a show boating boxer like  Howarth is putting
on. He has VT totally confused, not knowing what to do with
him. He came in to this fight as a warm up for his upcoming defensive championship fight with Scrapiron Peel and he is being bloodied and cut up, by what in the boxing sport is considered old, a man close to his 40's but is moving like a 25 or 26 year old. Folks I don't recall Howarth in any past fights, but uh, hang on a moment Howarth is moving around VT, bobbing, weaving and talking to him, I can't quite read his lips, but someting about going down in uh, some round. Meanwhile VT continues to back peddle away from Howath, who is trying to cut him off....Oh! now Howarth stops chasing him and motioned with his hands to come in and fight. There's the bell ending this third round.

There is some kind of commotion going on behind me.... some one wants to tell me something, but is being detained by the police.
Hey officers, let him talk to me. Folks, this is the crasiest night I have ever experienced, let's see what this old man, I'm serious about Old, He mst be  "Uh how old are you, sir?"

"I'm just a couple years younger than Howarth. We  grew up together in Perry, Iowa. I'm 81 years old and that old man in the ring, he was known as "Howie" is 83 years old and...."

"Hold on just jack rabbit minute! Are you telling me, that Howarth,
  what did you call him? Howie, that boxer in the ring,  beating VT, the current light weight Dallas County champion, is 83 years old? Is that what you are saying?"

"Yep, dats whot Im sayng.We growed up t'gether, in da same school t'gether, wrestled and boxed t'gether, and I'm 81 years old and he was alays 2 yars older'n me, so I knows he is 83 yars old.

Folks., getting back to the igh, VT is circuling to his right to get in position to throw is left hook and then is righ overhand knock ut puncht . I think Howie is aware of what VT is trying and keeps circing to his left.


This is the  the round Howarth bragged he would KO VT. VT is coming out in his usual swagering way, Howarth had him intimiated in the first four rounds, with his little dancing jig and blooding his nose and eye. VT wasn't use to that kind of pressure, but his corner manager and some others that joined him, gave him a little pep talk, and so he has regained his cofidence. As usual Howarth, trys his little tap dance aa he approaches VT, it's gotten a little much and no one is cheering it.

I failed to ask you, old man, your name"

"I was known as Scrapieon in Perry, my real ame isRichard Peel.
Yo said dis is da round Howie is going to lower da boom on this young feller?"

"Well that's what he told the fight reporters in the news paper. But frankly, I have doubts that he can do it. Thus far all I've seen from your friend is  a few left jabs. He hasn't used his right in the entire fight."

"Well you just keep your eyes on his right; what yor going to see is a flurry of left jabs, ad out of nowhere his right and will suddenly show up and that will be the end of the fight."

Well folks there is just three minites left i thos round, if Howie is going to KO VT, he is ging tp alf to get more agressie than, oh,Howie just connected with a double left jab, and another one and he had VT weak leggedfromma barrage of jabs. He looks like he is about to go down OH WOW Howie hit him with a straight right hand punch right between his eyes and VT is on the canvas, tryng too ge up, the count is up to 5, 6,7 VT was up at the cnt of 8 bt collapst. The referee is waving the figt over, and tne Dallas County  light heavy weight champion has been kocked out by Howie Howarth in the 5th round just as he predicted.

no... no former interest in the Finnish: kieli...
hmm... let's compare...
Finnish... Estonian... Latvian... Lithuanian...
Hungarian... what's zunge: tongue in each?
the Suomi say: kieli...
            in ******: the closest approximate is:
klei: it glues together... klel: glue...
well... the tongue does just that...
    hmm... no bewilderment here:
Eesti say: keel
           Latvijas says: mēle
                                   slightly off the chart...
Lithuanians... immediately all the prior
languages drop dead...
because the translation is: nicht zunge wie in
                     glied... körperteil...
               aber zunge ist sprache...
   since...
liežuvis is tongue: tongue proper... the waggling...
ice-cream licking bit...
(lje-ju-vis) the ju is Fwench: from je suis...
             but... oh what a dear word...
   KALBA... that's language to a Lithuanian...
the young Huns use: NYELV for language...
i'm not even going to bother finding the word
for the waggling part of: irritated teeth...
          this almost feels like a 4th Jemminah revelation...
can i possibly scare women?
are they sort of, like... almost... sisters?!
they don't want me finding them in a bad mood?
in their casual framework of relexation
before the television?
        mind you: yeah... that would be boring...
if i became a domesticated animal...
even though... i'm sort of domesticated...
but... when *** is involved...
              oh right... i hold the joker card in
my Texas hold-up game of poker...
    i've spent time with prostitutes... so...
box is box... kasten ist kasten...
                 i must have scared her...
                         i was willing to become a surrogate
father to her child... the penny dropped
when i read the boy his poem back to him aloud...
and said: wow... and it was a literal wow...
or when her dog was licking my ears
and my self-inflicted cigarette burns on
the knuckles... until i started bleeding...
      that i brought her a banana loaf and asked
if her boy had any nut allergies...
           the self-made wine... cloudy... so i bought
a bottle of franziskaner weissbier (also cloudy)
so she wouldn't think she was drinking poison...
    then come Valentine's day i dropped off a bouquet
of flowers on her doorstep in the middle of the night
and dropped a card inside...
   well... she did mention that this guy was trying
to "court" her... but... yeah... this part...
it took him 20 years to gather the courage...
   when i heard that... the time we came back in
the same car... and she feigned tiredness and put her
elbow on my leg... and sort of relaxed...
   right: *****-head on... i'm driving this one home...
i.e. i'm going in for the ****...
   in warfare it would be called Blitzkrieg...
in casual social relations it would be called
the: juwelansturm... charm offensive...
                   esp. after some time you learn that...
at least 3 single mothers are scouting for...
for... i don't even know what at this point...
                  oh man... and she even had a vinyl player
and i was like: can we meet in a few days time...
i have this record i'd like you to listen with me...
   backstabbing reality: she's a tarantula mummy...
she'll eat the male in order to raise her offspring...
                           safety in the brothel...
                                    to be honest... she was actually...
generous... because she let me go... ghosted me...
blocked me from messaging me... even though...
      i've already seen her, twice already... when cycling...
once at night: her face beaming larger than the moon
with... i don't know what it was...
another time... walking with...
the most unremarkably looking man...
   just a little bit taller than her... and i'm guessing she
was... at most... a 5ft3...
              but not when the same love interest
is spreading rumours on her first day at work
about you being drunk on the job...
              well: i do know that i drink to excess...
i do have drinking ******... i tend to drink for about 4 people...
but when i need to be sober:
i'm sober... why do we need to be sober...
i will never know... but...
            eh... therefore? the charm-offensive had
to be put in place...
   as i told one of the other co-conspirators:
there's this ****** proverb...
           lies... or is it liars?
    lies don't walk on stilts...
        lies / liars have short legs...
                 lies are not longshanks...
         time... all it took was time...
                                but at the same time...
it's so frustrating... i'd love to **** a single mum...
i mean: her libido must be... exponential...
   shoom! a ******* comet!
                  esp. if she's raising a boy rather than a girl...
i should know... Khedra... the *******
i have unprotected *** with is a single mum...
but she has a daughter... prettiest **** thing in the world...
and her libido is a rave... a rage... a... a...
don't go there... i mean: i go there...
but... yeah...
                          and Jeminnah was this petite auburn
ginger **** good looking "thing"...
what Rodin sculptures i could have had with
her in the bedroom...
                                   ugh... it's sick... it's truly sick...
framework... just to ensure the boy isn't there...
but she... actually behaved rather admiringly...
she... actually... spared me...
   all the disappointments that would inevitably
come... if i went... no... if she went forward and
made herself more "available"... ***-friendly...
                 i still don't know why i like writing about this...
it sort of sooths me... or i'm having trouble trying
to write about something new...
therefore i regurgitate this little event in my head...
because i'm trying to find explanations
not excuses - certainly not dejections...
   or harbouring a resentment for women...
           i think she behaved... like a doe would...
     and i have actually run with doe and their young once...
at a traffic junction... there was no stag...
they became lost... traffic mayhem...
run them back into the woods...
                seriously: i can't even be bothered
to imagine **** anymore... life's as it comes... and goes...
so she did behave like a doe...
        frightened little thing...
              well... if you come across a guy and your
dog finds him irresistible...
  your little boy wonder becomes sort of scared
of an authority figure... or rather:
doesn't look at your boyfriend as an older brother...
like my neighbour once said:
better jerking off in heaven
than ******* in hell... i guess she should know...
****... better change that term juwelansturm
to... reizkrieg... yes... much better...
              but i still don't get it: how socially backward,
lacking any sort of introspection / self-awareness
must you have... to... do a Mr. Bean move...
knowing how cut-throat women are against
each other... to... have about 4 women gather against
you for slandering someone: you just met
and are working with?
            maybe i have a mind the size of pigeons...
but... at least that sort of brain size allows me
to have a Sat-Nav implant...
   i still can't get over how much drama i just avoided...
i was about to step into a hot pile of ****...
i truly was willing...
           how she allowed her former boyfriend...
well... her son's older brother... by my take on things...
to run her in over £10,000 of debt... implying she lost
her credibility to work in the financial sector...
i have a square head... i'm trying to fit a rectangle into it...
it's not going to work...
   and i'm not even solipsistic / autistic...
(a) why would you tell me your life story so endearingly,
   while also slandering me...
(b) why would you tell me your life story
and not something you enjoy doing... the music you like?
(c) women mature faster than men?!
   you're kidding me, right?
    that's like that Egyptian fwend i once had...
absolute ***... even the Pakistani said...
we're supposed to meet up for the movies...
no... forget fashionably 15 minutes late...
  sometimes... an hour late... **** those sort of people...
waste of air... never mind time...
but i'm the sort of person that is: in love with the idea of love...
in liebe mit die idee von liebe...
   but i was truly treading on egg-shells while walking into
a SHAMBO'H... szambo = septi tank...
           - mind you: self-deprecating humour does help:
a lot...
    while the only use of the diminutive tense in English
i was able to find was, associate with... making nouns
ugly... "nouns" well... like Matthew becomes Matt
Peter become Pete... Anthony becomes Tony...
Joshua becomes Josh... Samuel / Samantha becomes
Sam... it's ******* ugly... it's diminutive "diminutive":
just ******* lazy... like do not becomes don't...
Pakistani becomes ****-,
               at least where i come from: diminutive is
diminutive: i.e., it's endearing...
because something smaller is always cuter...
you want to tend to it more...
KACHKA'H (kaczka) becomes kaczuszka...
drzewo become drzewko (tree, little tree)...
tygrys: tygrysek (tiger, little tiger)
jabłoń: jabłonka
   it's the diminutive but it's also... refreshing:
lying about the thing's temporal quotation...
which also makes it a funny reading into history...
that **** Germany thought of themselves as
Aryans...
    yet... the ******-lack-lands further east entertained
the infusion with the Sarmatians...
an Iranian... Aryan tribe...
        and we are... "we" are... i am... very *******
refreshed to defend my mutterzunge...
sure... i'll keep it subdued: if i had a keyboard that
would allow me easier access to the orthography...
i don't think i'd write in English...
probably not...
         even Charles Dickens can't call it orthography
whether it's weather or little or litle...
   there's no orthography where they are no diacritical
marks... akin to U contra Ó
   or epsilon contra eta...
                 mind you: the Byzantines are hyper-sensitive
to γλώσσα - even now... upsilon, omicron: omega...
why need to stress: give the omega the acute
accent? i know it's gloossa... shouldn't that accent
be put to better use in order to make the English
looking proto-Germanic ᛋᛋ (schutzstaffel)
disappear? too many ******* consonants in ******...
i heard that argument before...
    too many diphthongs in yours... or at least lacking
one: IE... that ought to be a diphthong...
aye... i... die... dye... different... dynamic... dip...
where's an affirmative-iota in... the last three examples?!
surely you don't say: dype... when you write: dip...
do you?
             all of U in you...
                             yes... i do feel linguistically superior...
but it's not a superiority of: "my" people write
language in a... oh ****... now i remember...
the best comparison comes...
like this project of twinning towns...
Havering was twinned with Ludwigshafen...
the ****** language... lodged between Russian and
Deutsche... neither... the best alliance
is with... the clarity and sensibility of: Japanese...
that's the closest i've come to compare my mother-tongue...
Japanese...
   it's the clarity of syllables... of actual letters...
sure... Japanese has restrictions on its consonants...
since they have to be coupled with vowels...
except... why is N no ******* unique?
i could understand H... from the Hebrews...
since... that's a vowel catcher of sighs and eh?! conclusions
and a vowel generator of: ah ha ha... i.e. laughter...
so... what?! the Japanese laugh akin to...
Ini Kamoze's: here comes the hot stepper?
na'h na'h na'h?        oh: wight... no trill of the R...
no rattle-snakes back there...
i guess you could laugh on a Na (sodium)
and No (know very little)...
      next time i'll catch myself laughing i'll ditch
the H and borrow the ン (N)...
but... hmm.. weird... Sejong the Great might agree with me...
something's up...
i'm itching... now... Korean makes more sense...
to hell with the Chinese skeleton... x-ray...
hieroglyphs... ideograms... brick wall:
too much memory gone to waste...
        no phonetic clues... just enough geology...
pressure... time... erosion... to memorise...
   not going to happen...
  that's why you're never going to invade China...
but something is up in Katakana...
if N (ン) has such a unique place among / apart from
other consonants...
that it has the same sort of status as the vowels
(ア) A or (オ) O...
海 - kai... ocean... phonetically dropping the ideogram
("emoticon") you'd get: カイ...
but if N is so uniquely placed as an A...
why... would you require...
       to merge this unique consonant with the unique
vowels?
      why do you need this?
ナ ニ ヌ ネ ノ: na, ni, nu, ne, no?!

isn't N unique like the vowels that it can stand uncoupled
with vowels? so... if it can't be stand-alone akin
to vowels... why keep it: "unique"?!

ン   ア   イ   ウ   エ   オ

   fair enough... i'm far from Japanese... but i still don't understand
why you need to disfigure the unique N by a vowel...
and i'm trying to figure out the logic...
how, for example:  ン + ア = ナ...
since... exactly... since...
                         there's no equivalent to the N + A = NA
for any other consonant in Japanese...
there's no R + A = RA... since... there's no R!
no really... let's see... RA: ラ... ア (A)...
              so... what's the R? it's almost like a diacritical mark

laughter in "anime" / ******: ハ ハ
) (                   close enough... but if the H is invoked...
how does A morph in "opposing" chiral, mirror?
   ア? ア + ? = ハ: ha... ha ha... ha... eh?
and the obvious restrictions... consonants take the lead...
when fused with letters...
you can't find AN or an AM or a AT in japanese...
you can only find NA MA and TA...
- if i'm going to become prone to dementia in old age...
sure... then... i'll travel to Amsterdam and
juice up on some chew of a handful of magic
mushrooms... a reiteration of how fungus hitchhiked
the money brain... but not until then:
i'm good... on this linguistic plateau, for now...

- lessons from yesterday... H'american women are
insufferable... apologies...
i can understand tight yoga pants... flick of the hair...
exposing... or rather... exfoliating in one's peach
*** physique... but dressed...
it really makes all the more sense to align oneself
with the Muslim women... i truly: truly abhor this
current... libido insomnia... which implies...
by the time i get some: i don't want it...
which means... the pattern of going to the brothel
to get a hard-on... i need to exercise in short exhausting
bouts like a boxer... i need to ******* without
actually ******* for a few rounds...
and i need to drink an aphrodisiac like white wine...
and then i'm good to go...
    
we've been so overtly sexualised we've become...
sterilized by overexposure...
i'm serious... perhaps the NIQAB is not so much
about female oppression but...
to ensure the male libido is kept intact: focused...
since... men become easily bored if there is no
existential stress... we tend to ******* and pursue
**** like: geometry... linguistics...
yeah: "bored"... no... we find alternative avenues
to cope with life...
       and by a common demonitor:
we're no adherents to the doctrine of Darwinism...
most of us would **** for the Copernican focus
of reality... but... this whole idea of passing on
our genes? sorry...
even i see what sort of men pass on their genes...
passive men... mediocre men...
humanity has made Darwinism unnatural...
**** Germany tried the orthodox method
best associated to Darwinism...
why did it fail?
  like that Matrix quote from Agent Smith...
people... people... just enjoy misery...
it's what makes them thrive...
populus... populus... fruor miseriae...
                                                    in miseriae illi vigeo!
i tried... to accomplish "something" worth the dignity
of calling it: human... personally? i can only attest
to... mengelegeschrei! kinship...
                  it wasn't worth it...
                  trying to love people is one thing...
it's so disturbing doing such a feat...
the whole inclusivity project...
   when you don't have exclusive rights to one person...
maybe only swans figured it out...
but... it's so... ******* chimp-sour...
so psychologically backwards...
             i'm not even irritated, disinterested or... stressed...
calmly, collectively... backtracking...
i'm getting bored of this libido insomnia...
   what if i were to showcase my underwear bulge?!
that would be deemed as ****** harassment... wouldn't it?
i've seen messages on the tube...
LOOKING... ooh... you look at some in a lecherous mood!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
               TOUCHING! can't i... touch you on the shoulder...
so you might... move aside... while i get off the tube?!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
      this society is beyond rotten...
rot is rot... it's... fermenting... into something
that... whatever propaganda the Soviet's would have
envisioned to throw at it... couldn't...
it ******* self-imploded...
   no no... this is a full-on self-implosion...
         you wish there was some post-Soviet involvement...
there was: zilch...
          
what was once the Soviet Empire... is not modern Russia...
oddlt enough...
   i'm so thankful that i spent over a month in Russia
and never once switched on the t.v. mind you:
i was in a "relationship" with a girl who told me
her grandmother was her mother..
and her mother was her sister...
   and she was still bangng her ex... with ties to
the government... blah blah...
faking having a period... but i thought *******
a woman on her period was all bonus?
fleshy crumbs on the ******...
   fair enough... i'm not sick on the sickly sweet bits...
i'm like a crab or a crow...
i pick up leftovers...
             but my eyes truly dim... the iris and the sclera
disappear... all you can see is the pupil...
when... libido insomnia over-exposure kicks-in...
i just stop thinking straight.. usually my mind is built
for vectors... geometry... but....
when i'm getting teased too much...
this is teasing... let's face it... and... i can't get a hard-on...
what would most do? a violent cause...
i don't think we're asking for nuns....
      we're asking for Black Narcissus types...
the tragedy of overtly sexualising men
into a future of impotence...
  while... deeming women: overvalued and...
            doomed to an existential failure of
single motherhood...
              it is a failure! there's no romance to speak of
if... she has a girl or a boy token!
and the socialism... the Soviet propagandists would
have never envisioned such an easy future of
argument....
capitalism will not fail out of ideology... if it is going
to fail: it will fail out of biology...
men will become so isolated from women
that men will... as men do: stop spending...
because they will not spend money on women...
why would i want to spend more than i already
spend on a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of pepsi and
a packet of cigarettes?
why? huh?! eh?!
                 i don't need to look "pretty"...
                   i'm already ugly...
                       reality dissonance... it's vibrating!
it's ******* vibrating! it's like: hum hum hum... humming...
insect wing flutter... coupled with KEISHA's song BLOW...
well... because the last time i cited
listening to
  COMBICHRIST... the girl blocked me...
      sent to destroy... it's such s nice... song...
  well... manner... tastes... one can't oysters all of one's
life... whoops... which is like: whpe + slippery + oops + i slipped...
ah ha: ba n'ah n'ah!

ad mors facio tuus venia!
   toward death: make your pardon!

igloo:
me-glue,
# @ ~sick ice     seems like bypassing the 502 bad gateway is getting trickier and trickier... no problem: where there's a will, there's a way (however cliche that sounds)...

i still can't believe that i've managed to study myself
ergonomically - i'm like: wow...
i have literally perfected the art of ironing shirts...
i used to hate ironing, now i get a little tipsy
and i'm like: shoom! the iron sort of glides of its
own accord... first the collar,
then the yoke, then the cuffs, then the sleeves...
then the front without buttons, then the front with
buttons, then the back... bam wham: thank you ma'am!
it is truly sinister that my modus operandi
is stressed with the infamous: arbeit mach frei...
i know it, everyone else should also know it...
but under the banner people were given
pointless tasks... concentrations camps made a joke
of work while beneath the "veneer" they were simply
utilised to slaughter people...
but even doing menial work: chores is releaving
as a release... i can automate my body...
i don't have to watch t.v. (or Plato's cave)
or for that matter fall into the Cartesian cognitive
"insomnia": am i really a "thinking" thing?
sure, i once had this pristine narrative in my head...
now i just comes across shrapnel pieces
of "narrative": mostly just... oh, right, i...

my to be father-in-law... the ****** that messed up
my guitar.... my acoustic Martin & Co.:
she was a stunner... anyway...
he called me a charmer...
   i like him... i was truly fond of him... up to a point...
later... well that diabetic fat **** get eat his
pudding while i spray dust into the atmosphere...
again: what is wrong with me?
oh Gemma, Gemma, Gemma...
a single mum, a boy in the background,
9K in debt... and i'm flirting with her...
as subtle to the best of my abilities...
what, is wrong, with me?!
perhaps i've had too many roller-coaster rides
of thrills in the ******* brothel...
but she's petite and that special hue of ginger...
might as well lodge a ***** onto my forehead...

point being...
apparently women still listen to astrological
demands... like there were any to begin with...
zodiac signs...
zodiac signs "tell the truth"... next time i work with
her i'll ask... if she's a Libra: no...
if she's an Aquarius... no... if she's a Cancer: YES!
if she's a Gemini: no...
                     i am yet to meet a Leo...
if she's a Sagittarius, YES...
                             being a Taurus etc.

but if women are so concerned with these matters
i figured... beside the showcasing of history...
construction of the pyramids,
the Mongol sacking of Moscow,
the ****** sacking of Moscow...
the burning of the great library of Alexandria
by the Christian in-breeders...
whatever the hell happened with the Mongols in
Baghdad...
the defeat of the Mongols
at the hands of the Mamluks...
the battle of Lepanto
that gave us Don Quixote...
      the twilight of the Aztecs...
             how ancient Greeks became rigid
Byzantines... etc.

o.k. so that's a sample of history...
me? well if i'd really want to experience everything /
understand everything or anything through
the lense of Darwinism... i could, but... no...
i can't be bothered going that far back...
Jung's ideas were always more concise
for me and the lived experience...
English thinking is not for me,
whether it be Darwin or whether it be Hobbes or Locke...

sure... the Englishmen can sing...
Milton... Shakespeare... but please don't give me any
English ideas... they run on objectivism for
the most part and i don't deal with
objective language... with "fact checking"...
i need language to be nuanced...

history through the lens of etymology:
the origin of words...
or, rather... to live in accordance to the meaning
of one's name...
Matthew: gift of god (from the Hebrew Matisyahu)
Conrad: wise counsel (Germanic)...
this ******-all of the question that's:
what's the meaning of life...
well, live... and find out along the way...
but primarily... live up to your name's meaning...
not everyone can live up to the meaning
behind the name akin to Alexander
or Xerxes...

                        i'm literally surprised that there might
have been a Peaches Geldof...
but not a Gomorrah Smith...
          fitting to the times... but even i'm not immune...
pronoun-bollocking and all that
reincarnation pillage of a blocked toilet...

i'm going to pursue charming her...
even though: it's certainly not good for me...
why? oh, you know... the thrill...
and the disillusionment that comes with it...
even though i have a phallus and a pair of *****
between my legs i need to feed into the tingling
sensation that i have a ******,
or that she's thinking about me while i'm thinking
about her and she might be *******...

as weird as that might sound: at least when growing up:
when a grew his hair long he was most likely
into metal / rock music... it would never *******
stick / translate as taking up a transgender
offensive!

what the hell happened to metaphysics in western culture?
i'm starting to doubt whether it ever existed
in the first place, then again; if a language
has no study of orthography... Charlie, ****-squat-ens...
perhaps in the 19th century you could
elevate calling a spelling mistake an orthographic
mistake... no! that's not how orthography works...
for orthography you require diacritical marks!
English doesn't have any!
little and litle is hardly an orthographic mistake:
it's just a spelling mistake:
English is almost a phonetic arithmetic...

    let me show you how an orthography looks like:
gówno     & not guwno... i.e. ****...
chudy - thin (masculine) chuda (feminine)
    that's CH as X - i.e. ha...
but then the oddity of a X without a C...
heroizm - heroism...

maybe that's why i never heard of anyone with
dyslexia in Poland... i've heard of a bad orthographical
aesthetic but never about someone with
dyslexia... after all: dyslexia isn't a complete and utter
illiteracy... it's the end result of the language
being written one way, while spoken another...
because if you were to write English as it's spoken...
well... it wouldn't be aesthetically pleasing to the eye,
would it?

the supposed argument "against" ******,
i.e. "there are too many consonants jumbled together"...
if you know how to divide a word
into prescribed sounds that correlate to the letters....
akin to the English SH and CH
     it is a language gifted with the trait of:
written as it is spoken.

coming back to Gemma... i'm about to launch a full-on
charm offensive, only yesterday i sent her a link
to what i was listening to (with a photograph of my perched
on the windowsill with Quorus - the maine **** -
sitting with me) - the prophecy theme from Dune
by Brian Eno...
she's looking for meditative music... well then...
i'll give her meditative music, medieval music...
i'm going to charm the pants off of her...
i know she's a single mum... i know that there are too
many pitfalls...
                              but i can't get rid of the butterflies in
my stomach when i think about her....
i might as well shoot myself in the foot...
no matter... this was going to happen, anyway,
i'm a fatalist after all: i know i will come off disappointed,
hurt should i fail or for that matter: not have any success...

but i like the way she smiles like a matriarch...
what links will i send her?
well... the obvious... chants of the Templars...
some Jordi Savall - stella splendens in monte,
    laudemus virginem mater est...
hammock's ketonic album...
godspeed you! black emperor's - F# A# ∞

oh for ****'s sake, why am i in love?!
   why now, why with her...
                 i've seen what love does to me...
it's hardly pretty... but i have in me the sort of
"thinking" process best associated with
creatures at the lowest point of an existential
hierarchy... after all: even tapeworms and viruses
are charged with a will to preserve their
existence without question...
     it might be morally apprehensible to want to sleep
with her given the fact that i might
**** up her boy a little bit more...
then again: what am i? i don't have the sort of income
that might pay off the debt her ex left her with...

at the end of the day: it's what i feel that is more important
than who i know or, for that matter: what i know...
i need to feel this... i need to feel more of this!

Here I am, again
Alone
Getting the universal feeling
Of not getting what I deserve
Shocking I know

Of not getting out what I put in
Getting back what I give
Aren't I silly?
Do I deserve?

I try to do everything right
When possible
And of course I fail
So do you I suppose?

Be kind, be supportive, be there
Help out where I can
Listen, give advice,
Try to remember the important stuff
All that's so fleeting to my mind

Check in with you,
"What are you doing today?"
Bring little gifts
Show you how much you matter

Show how much you mean to me
Through my actions and letters
"You've been on my mind"

Offer my shoulder, my ear, my hands, my thoughts

Make myself likeable,
Make myself calm, soft
No threat here, no anger
A safe space

Compromise for others
Often without being asked
Or thanked for
Appreciation is hard to come by

"Please don't forget about me
Please include me
Please don't leave me behind"

Sometimes I get bitter
Sometimes I feel empty and weak
And don't have much to offer
Seclude myself to safety
But I try don't I?

I don't see you doing it much
You apologize
You promised better

Yet you forgot my birthday again
Like last year

It's okay I do it too
No bother
I should have reminded you

Yet you didn't find time to visit me in the hospital
When I had to learn how to walk again
No promises for the future

It's okay,
I hid how bad it was
How could you have known
When I was only gone for half a year

Yet, if I don't write first
Then there is no conversation?

I have to announce to the world
Exactly what is wrong with me,
For you to listen

I have to show up
On your doorstep
In crutches
And wait for you to let me in
For you to see
Are you even there?

You know me,
You know my struggles and my compassion
You know my shadows and that
Often they're stronger than me
And dark thoughts take over

So why do you forget about me
So quickly?
Why don't you send a little love?
A litle goes a long way for me

To know I don't have to do it all alone
Like I used to be
To know there is someone
There for me too

A little warmth in my chest
Against the storm of my mind
A little light against the shadows creeping
A little company for the hohle in my tummy
Of fear and insecurity

But it's okay
I'm used to it right?
Gotta be more patient,
Gotta go on giving,
Go on
Be
Understanding,
Compromise, how to

Cause
My anger isn't justified
Right?

911 took a bite out of  the apple
She is wounded but carrying on
We stood tall
We will be calm and vigilant
Patient and calm
Care a litle deeper and hang in there
Be well and take care my fellow poets
Patience isnt easy but we have to walk with head held up high and attitudes in check

C@rainbowchaser2020

Countenance the opposite of happiness
And we'll rested
Stressed past the point distress
Ohhh have I stated Im under oath
Ok
I wasnt sure
what I am truly sure is that man pacing back and forth
In front of me is sorely frustrated
Face grimaced
stone cold unbreakable stare
When he gives you that look
Whhooooee. I mean boy howdy
That is just sumthin to behold
Who doggies he real good at this game
I hope he's enjoyin it as much as I do
He looks winded and awful sweaty
He keeps loosening his tie
It must not be working cause
He's looking all crazy walk in past me
And there he goes doin it again
Then suddenly he turns
So suddenly ****** his face straight at me
Teeth showing and man am I gettin that look
Boy he got me good  
That one was so quick it bout startled me
I jumped in my seat and winced an even yiped
A little bit
I musta look a litle like I was gonna cry or something
I looked at the judge and he was kinda chuckling
I looked back at Larry the lawer
And he was shaking and had his hands cupped and look in
Like he was begging
I smirked and gave him a wink
I wanted him ta know I'm a big fan.
Now he looked down and almost started to cry
This is what he wanted to say
" can you please not answer the question with a question"
And we just stared at each other for the longest time
And I think he was trying to hypnotize me
His eyes were just a twitchen and shooting all over after about two minutes I held him leaning closer as if ta sorta carefully pull the answer from me
So I slowly leaned back and folding my arms crossed my leg over the other knee smiled and said
" well
......... now
Larry is that a question you really wanna ask me?"