by the time malachi wrote of elijah's half, god split too, and then the embodiment happened on two roundabouts worth of twirl: god was a third's worth of christ's trinity talked about, recognising india in a symmetrical summery of applause for anglia's capital norwich - exchanged in overcoming autumn into similar wobbly within grasp - stornoway - to pinpoint an x for some lapsed tongue twirling less hollywood and more of the towing dimensional twins: diaper dipped innocent and sunk into welly fudge wet sludge slurps of onomatopoeias, exchanged to boot pivots for the weatherman handling insignia of coordination with a queen's lazed approach to care for the public's handy utility: shaken the plumber shaken the electrician, but gloved the hand ordinating trickles of tubular artery and sparks of the veiny rarity skidding into pressurised suicides named.*

as i said it once: by the time of malachi elijah was half of what jesus became,
a trinity of thirds; but by a polytheistic nitro of interests reincarnation
was not much for the oneness: with malachi in oath
to claim elijah in half, while jesus stole a prophet's book,
which endowed a testimony, such that much of the greek "god said"
was roman "let me ease into it and regurgitate."
so while malachi wrote of elijah's re-incarnation and spoke heresy on
the pulpit of polytheism for a crowd of monotheists
not allowing a seventh of the same pool draw
of sunken chlorine breathed as a matchstick sparked,
it was malachi so many years prior
anticipating the many gods ridiculed by a singled out earth,
while jesus stole isaiah's book and hiding it near the dead sea,
and having his own testimony
of being integrated into egyptian alimony
sold and paired revealing the sorrowful desert winds that the desert
in toadish engulfed the nearby architecture. so i tell you: jesus stole isaiah's testimony,
was crucified for it, because within the penta- framework moses wrote
like a true outsider - and we prefer narcissists holding a mirror rather
than gripping a nail to a placard of steadied wood of ennobling statues
of geometrics. why then the many narcissist messiahs empowered by posing
into a polaroid fake and the lost oedipus plural theorised?
once malachi came with the heresy elijah was halved with god,
and once jesus came and the people began deciphering babylonian madness
so that the hanging gardens were architecturally sound
and the pyramids were proven higher than the eiffel:
without a sweaty wrinkles' river taken aqua vivo, we thus conversed.
elijah was a third in the form of jesus who begat one as a trinity
to further the heresy of malachi.

why doesn’t english phoneticism diacritic the non-trill r, or why doesn’t it diacritic the non-harking h? i wonder... where’s all the nation’s intelligence gone to... investing 650 billion in the ant mound that’s london? the politics blame it on the eastern european... ‘never blame it on the chinese or the arabs... they have the investments to come with boom & bust coordinates of new york’s 1920s hopes... followed up with depression.’ but oddly enough no recession in poland... perhaps because the poles have all the salt and lost all the dollars’ worth of edible mince pie (while the irish only lost ***** in hazelnut hangover forgetfulness on the titanic minding the class system of who got the lifeboats) - **** me, i’ve turned into a welsh longbows’ man with the famous V of agincourt... i’m not even welsh... but i’m assuredly an abacus: count to two sheep flights of suicide and towing two snorkel sneezes worth of bubbles before dozing off; ah... the celebrated humanity.*

that’s how it works... the r that lost the wheel and the ballerina twirl,
and the rolling-on requirements of a diacritic mark,
since all the available ones are inadequate,
and the h needs surgery to be honest...
it’s hardly a hay stack... as is the gnome eager to learn
about gnosticism and u-boats...
but did i tell you this one story that might
make you laugh?
in my post brain haemorrhage psychosis
i bought a martin & co. acoustic guitar for £600
while trading in a mandolin i bought cleaning toilets
in an edinburgh nightclub getting more than i expected
from a **** groper... sold for £25 second hand which i didn’t take
and just left it there due to honour
(who'd empty ****** in beer bottles from a toilet
getting harassed by a gay
in order to buy a £70 mandolin to play
only one song and then sell it for £25 and take the money?!)...
no, really, the english r needs diacritic markings
to distinguish it from the other european arms and arses
fidgety.
so this martin & co.’s guitar i bought
and took to my ex-girlfriends house...
which i left outside... and... oddly enough
in a guitar sheath the guitar suddenly spontaneously
decided to itch and break up...
my ex-girlfriend’s father said the cold did it...
he was always the handyman to break things...
then i started to head-**** the guitar until i managed
to weave a hole in it to sound more hollow...
so i fixed it in the end... a blind man could play it...
my ex-girlfriend’s father ended up as a nutcracker in
the mental health unit for a month while
england rejoiced when the pantomime season came along
in the local theatres - plates were thrown and dogs were walked...
like tonight... me in cognitive conversation:
‘hey stranger’s dog across the street, why you pausing
tail waggling and pavlov ready for a treat
and trying to imbue a french revolution’s cause off the leash?’
religiously you're reversing the due pundit of prayer
for the thing suffering... christianity almost feeds
the notion of prayer unto the continually suffering...
you wouldn't see prayer so easily given to
zeus ******* hera on the chair... would you?
pathetic, even morbid perverts of poverty
******* out the blood from the man...
if he deserved it he deserved it... it's not so easily
grecian polished into the realm of the undeserved...
the classical philosopher inquired: the gods exist...
but why are you sacrificing animals for their existence?
the modern philosophers inquired: the god exists...
but why are you sacrificing your emotions for their existence?
i will not sacrifice a goat on the altar...
but that was easier given the fact you're feeling
such sibyl s & m with that thing dangling on two planks of wood;
didn't i write of the malachi heresy...
the heresy that invaded monotheism and said
john smith postcode *** *** from the 21st century
will always be john smith from london from the 16th century?
malachi's heresy concerning the reincarnation of elijah
decisively spoke of the fractioned hebrew god... it spoke of 1
as 1/2, 1/3, 1/4, 1/5, 1/6, 1/7, 1/8, 1/9 etc.
i can't believe that... like hegel equated in
the book marx digested and rebelled against, i = i,
malachi you propagator & instigator of christianity and islam!
malachi! to the greeks & romans with you tied to st. paul!
(even allen ginsberg mentions this equation
in one of his poems: i am i, old father fisheye that
begat the ocean, the worm at my own ear,
the serpent turning around a tree;
kant and 0 as negation, hegel and the equals sign as being,
naturally ≠ has to imply non-being);
not building idols of forearm and knee for worship is what islam
got away with replacing them with the worship of words...
i'd hate to worship that night idol dictated by a man
who couldn't read... it's almost like a crow hunching
next to a statue of ramses ii about
where r a m s e s trivialised the six pack of the abdomen
there were the letters r a m s e s without definite form
to concern the suckling of favourite idol mantras...
idol holy word hum hum ham ahead of you...
thou shalt knot the casual reference of muhammad
in the corner shop for thou shalt not offend
the goosebumps sensation i feel when i hear the sounds...
MAKE THEE **** A HOLY **** WORDED & WORSHIPPED!
ARSES IN THE AIR GENTS... WE'RE GOING TO HAVANAH!
and so it was... the only fear of death i have
is to have lived to being aged 72... and then died;
death sooner... death... sooner!
my parents die i'm moving to the true england, up north,
to liverpool or manchester... **** the southern fairies
from dubai... i rather move to the faroe islands to be honest...
and **** a dozen orcas for a fry-up and the digestion of winter...
i rather **** time occupying the space in greenland
among the icy chinese known as eskimos;
i'd fit in among the føroyar kindreds... i love the doom & gloom
and hate the sun & tan of globalisation's adventures
with advertisements and juggling tourism
among terrorism's fictive narratives.

.one of the great dissatisfactions of life: dreaming... which makes me suspect of the anglo-saxons and their subsequent branches of sub-ethicities... they dream... they have recurring dreams... lucid dreams... i find that slightly suspicious... i rarely dream and if i do dream, the dreams are so bogus or so uninteresting that they make no sense to: "interpret" them via any freud-cubism schematic - that a woman's sun hat implies: the depth of ****** and promiscuity, or some otherwise bogus stretching it mate, really stretching that analogy... but why do the anglo-saxons have such lucid dreams, even recurring dreams? are they descendants of joseph: der traumgehhilfe? last time i had a dream? oh... family invites me to say, three memebers of the family don't like me... **** the rest of the family with a knife, a gun and a baseball bat (somewhere in south east asia)... a few of the killed members run into the street to die... i somehow pick up a kalashnikov and shoot the murderous 3... then i jump into slender boat with a motor with 3 or 4 women... 'jesus'... and i escape the scene of retribution sailing to... cambodia! **** me... even sylvester stallone or jason statham or arnie wouldn't star in a movie as b-movie as this... but anglo-saxons seem to have the most vivid dreams... two good examples: h. p. lovecraft and william burroughs... is dreaming a form of escapism? if so, then evidently i'm quiet content with reality... like today: too much pop psychology, too much self-help guru mishmash, too much advice: not enough stories... video streaming a game being played... etc., so i retreat, even from modern music, into? here's a beginner's guide list to medieval music:

       1. qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi
       2. da pacem domine
       3. agni parthene
       4. dum pater familias
       5. chevalier, mult estes guariz
       6. virga iesse floruit
       7. walther von der vogelweide's
                 palästinalied
       8. codex buranus no. 179:
                     tempus est locundum
       9. non é gran causa
      10. herr holger
      11. herr mannelig
      12. die eisenfaust am lanzenschaft
      13. meie din liechter schin
      14. under der linden
      15. mayenzeit one neidt
      16. mönch von salzburg (das nachthorn)

   why would i have stopped at merely
Orff's reading of Carmina Burana -
                 sure... that's the entry point...
   but the radio only plays o fortuna till
the cows come home in a full-moon lit night...
yawn...
    if only: fortune plango vulnera,
      veris leta facies, omnia sol temperat,
     floret silva, or... or!
   a monk's love song for the queen of england -
were diu werlt alle min:
              were diu werlt alle min
              von dem mere unze an den Rin,
              des wolt ih mih darben
              daz diu chunegin von Engellant
               lege an minen armen.

but no... it's o fortuna or nothing from that album
on the radio...
    i get it, great song...
   but why is auld lang syne only sung once
a year, on new year's eve?!
              
as with women, so with music, one simply tires of
contemporary examples: not exactly the music
but the lyrics behind the music...
                        music will never change to appease
the brute and the beast... but modern lyricism
is just agitating... it exhaust with its choice
of subject matters...
                                and by the looks of it...
    i spend too much time with music to find myself
in needing the comfort of a woman's voice,
a cuddle or relationship or whatever you want
to call it from now on...
           i am wedded to three women that will
never materialize: Euterpe, Sophia and Amber...
and all the better...
                                i could never wallow in what's
currently being wallowed in...
by some who have these recurrent dreams
and are unable to stop them from recurring...
hence my suspicion with the anglo-saxon traits
of vivid dreaming: this cruch of relying on dreams...
of so easily being ***** by celesto-cerebral powers
that impregnate their sleeping heads with
these realities that only exist in the mind and
a sleeping mind at that!

(nb. not proof read, apologies in advance for any mistakes, upon rereading will correct if any appear - or i'll just keep them...)

look at these two slogans: let's make America great (again)!
complimenting the English variation
let's get our country back! ring any bells? i guess you must
have heard one or the other as an English speaker -
it's hardly surprising - the English Prime Minister singing
a little toodeloo then uttering the word right upon
reentering number 10 - shambles ahoy! every rat and
mutineer bailed - we're in free-fall, Trotsky had it coming,
this guy hasn't - hardliner but a bubble-gum tongue -
it stretches like a joke my English teacher said:
how was copper wire invented? hmm? two Scots
tugging and pulling in opposite directions a two pence coin -
for all their worth, they joked the blond quiff of
both Boris and President Donald Yeltsin - where one
gets drunk on egoism, the other just gets drunk -
even though they don't like him in Scotland, they sure as
hell bought the slogan like a Big Mac - the problem is
there's a zenith, and then a necessary decline -
you can reach the zenith of breaking the 100m sprint,
but then a stock-market dip (necessary) -
much of Britain's exit from the European Union was due
to the campaign trail of the Doodle T - the best politician
i assume is the one that enjoys the most prodding jokes,
which also means the majority of votes,
jokes and votes walk hand-in-hand - people don't want
leaders, they want caricatures - after all, the little existences
have to matter with a joke in the Oval office.
i can't imagine the unholy alliance of feminists running
the place in the west - Theresa May in England,
Hilary Clinton in America, Angela Merkel in Germany,
Ms. Le Pen in France, the Polish prime minister
Beata Szydło - it has to look like a 2nd Cold War scenario,
a break from World Wars... Putin and pukka Tyson Trump
on the other side, macho v. macho - man talk and
the ultimate bromance. i know that Nietzsche referenced
genius too much, assuredly i hear that a lot too around
here with child geniuses storming around for silverware -
children geniuses and not original? so technically you're
talking about data storage in porridge - trained monkeys,
right? those children will be scarred for life as if they
saw their parents ******* - what sort of genius is a genius
if he doesn't work from blank but is there are a memory
gimmick to boost hopes of curing dementia?
philosophy doesn't do geniuses, it does things like Spinoza,
solitary wanderers, loners - outsiders and mesmerisers,
there's no genius in philosophy - there's only solitude -
granted that an open-minded psychiatrist is a modern subplot
in not reading philosophy - where is the ultimate source
of compassionate solely theory based (anti) psychiatry?
in reading philosophy books rather than exercising authority /
abusing it - R. D. Laing is a perfect example -
who wrote after reading philosophy books - i mean read them,
in the English speaking world i recommend reading
the works of the anti-psychiatric movement of the 1960s,
which was much bigger than the Beat Movement - obviously
not as dazzling, but with poetry you're imitating Philippe Petit
(film, the walk) - i watched it and my legs experienced
needles, and a firm assertion of gravity and the location
of the floor - films like that are worse than horror -
you share the heart of the original, but given it's Plato's cave
we're talking about representing the events, you realise
that no matter how much you want your shadow to be
Philippe Petit, you hear from the outside world, your legs
are firmly on the ground - basically: **** that - men are not
born equal, they have to live by principle to be at least moderating
their excellence into a respectable cohesion (democracy) -
quiet simply juggling their strengths with their weaknesses -
man is not born equal, he was to strive for equal measure -
when subduing their strengths and when exfoliating them -
no man is born equal, as no man is an island - the two synchronise.
(i'm deliberately masking what's coming)...
but there is genius in philosophy - but only in one area of
interest - religion... we know that popular beliefs are
grounded in plagiarism - the Trojans became the Romans
via the accounts of Virgil, and we know the Trojans in
becoming Romans plagiarised the Greek polytheism -
Zeus became Jupiter, Poseidon became Neptune,
Cronos became Saturn, Hera became Juno, Aphrodite
became Venus... etc., it was done to mimic the Greek heart
from the defeat at Troy, to invoke a heart that overcame -
every pauper and every king would identify with
this pluralism - but a second plagiarism had to come -
it was prophetically echoed from approximately 2000 years -
the Greeks later plagiarised the Hebrew concept -
the monotheistic concept, yet because their thinking
was so advanced (or so they thought) they dismissed the
sects of the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the Essenes and
the Zealots... their hero was their antagonist - and nothing
of their learning was actually work their concerns since
they boasted of their Aristotle and their Plato and their
Socrates - the peddle-stool effect appeared -
but what if a Latin man (well, these letters are Roman) were
to say - never mind the son, how about the father?
in Christianity the father is rather anonymous in his
omnipresence etc. - but let's assume on the biological tenet
that we are referring to the old testament god -
would we want to plagiarise the Greek plagiarism of
Hebrew? i already mentioned the four prime canons as
imitations of the tetragrammaton - of course they're
intended to not be identical accounts, but there must be
two that are mirror images - i.e. referring to h      &      h
of the tetragrammaton - if there are no two mirror images
then we are bothered - i can see why the Greek mind thought
that Y refers to a convergence, a mother, a father, a child
and the entry point to the gospel: a genealogy -
Y being representative of a convergence - past and present,
following through - this is all about first impressions,
from what i can remember and regurgitate back -
in Catholic school we were taught by majority the gospel
of St. Mark - the others were discredited -
i can't tell you if there are two identical gospels (or at least
with very little variation between them) - what comes after
them is what comes after all essences of religion,
bureaucracy - imams and priests, yoga teachers and
whatever it is that comes with religion for the common man,
but in the new testament this is the essence, a shady
reinterpretation of the tetragrammaton - but a Latin man
who didn't bother to attribute symbols with nouns,
but made his alphabet musically orientated for the
castrato and the choirs to come - a (alpha) b (beta)...
o (omicron / omega) it became obvious that the four letters
arranged as so with missing Adam and missing Eve
would provide more than just four interpretations of
the same event / person - for when a Greek has to cut off
-lpha from a to attach it to another letter to create meta,
the Latin man has only to cut off less, perhaps dentistry's
ah, or otherwise cut off -ee from b... the world is full
of such possibilities, and this is the only area where
genius can be applied to philosophy - the genius of
philosophy is within religion, and nowhere else -
of course mind that i don't identify myself as one -
i treat genius as an angel or a demon, that fairy-tale
race of creatures that whisper into your ear - markedly
geniuses are more powerful in demanding an individual
rather than clones of the individual, e.g. Mohammad
and Muslims, Jesus and Christians... which is why i suppose
the genius of Moses also allowed others to write on sacred
paper, but of course excluding Malachi for falling into
heresy with a polytheistic concept of reincarnation, not
oddly enough Malachi's was the last book before the two
major strands of his heresy emerged like Behemoths.

i like looking up these shadow-people, the labourers
away from the spotlight, away from easy reference conclusions,
Ludovico Arrighi is among them, as is
the high jumper **** Fosbury - no belly-flop in
the competition after... after 1968 the road signs
told every jumper to expose the back and ***
when overpowering the heights -
Philippe Petit is outside the world, the ultimate
expression of solipsism, what grandeur (previous
attempts, the dyslexic source: the graphemes, æ,
previously i wrote grandeur as: grandeaur,
grandaeur, etc., somehow the syllables of only
vowels can leave you momentarily dyslexic,
when we're talking pure consonant graphemes
we have an aesthetic performed,
sheering can become šeering, whereby the diacritical
input overpowers excess spelling of graphemes,
such examples arise from what became the silent H...
or the surd H... ping-pong with the tetragrammaton...
e.g. dhal - which is said with a macron over the a:
dāl... but the trinity of spelled words gives rise
of neurosis... unless it's a word as conjunction,
the tribunal of aesthetic in keeping language beautiful
will prefer the spelling dhal or even daal rather than
what i proposed). concerning Ludovico Arrighi's
italics type... the skewed rhombus alignment /    /
is prescribed for emphasis... i need something to introduce
something that doesn't stress emphasis, but
sarcasm / ridicule... when i write something,
as i did in Christianity 2.0 (two point oh),
i'd change the direction of the ~wind, i.e. instead of
/    /    for emphasis, i'd like to stress ridicule in the
following direction:    \     .
but that's beside the point, it's like a western with
English not applying noticeable stresses...
for example the English trill, or the French hark...
they should be equipped with diacritical marks
of distinction... some sort of uniformity
of suggestion... the northerners trill (roll)
their R, the French used to, now anything but
a puddle of phlegm... but indeed, easy dyslexia from
pure vowel graphemes... cutting up graphemes
with diacritical incisions (safety, in a persistent vocabulary,
following the method of philosophical methodology -
hence my casual use of diacritics and graφemes -
i.e. when graphemes can't be constructed due
to a lacking of grapheme intention - unlike θ and φ -
supported by their alignment of a twin sound,
the Greeks would never consider applying diacritical
marks on p, t, h - unlike in Polish, where the h
is distinguished into a ch for aesthetic purposes -
e.g. chleb - bread and huj - **** -
but overpowering the vowel graphemes produced
their disappearance and the emergence of diacritical
vowels, e.g. the acute o (ó), which is a U, i treat
the diacritical mark as an incision point for the parabola,
cutting up the omicron, and that seems natural
given that the Greeks already did it without the acute
sign, i.e. the omega (the double u) - ω - again,
aesthetic reasons, the forgotten gallery of words
is there, you just have to forget Chomsky for a while.
but indeed, breaking up graphemes provides us
the necessity for diacritical marks,
the ancient Roman graphemes might have disappeared,
but they're still digitally present: mostly concerning
major words, like onomatopoeia - or encyclopaedia -
graphemes behave differently with the barbarians,
the latter encyclo- example is obviously nostalgic,
the ono- example does a reverse grapheme variation
of oe... but modernity expresses these couples
with individual distinctions - i.e. encyclopaedia
could be written utilising... well not a caron - not quiet
***, and more p'eh - the resurrection of the tetragrammaton
is necessary, i'd have inserted the variation without
minding French, i.e. grave accent on e eating away
the last vowel... or vowels... i.e. encyclopaèdia -
so avoiding the French usage that would cut off the -ia,
i'd insert it for reasons of interacting with a h, p'eh.
Joyce's Finnegan's Wake should have been written like this...
instead, it was written without noticing the diacritical
marks, and therefore made it's pompousness known
by omitting diacritical marks, therefore succumbing to
excessive spelling... or the ruin of Delmore Schwarzt -
nurse! scalpel: sch(sh /sz / š)- -wä(łä)- r(z)'t - drum-kit
wet snare tss't like in jazz.
still i need to define the R being trilled (rolling ball)
akin to the å - but of course the umlaut would do the job
likewise - but it's the aesthetic purpose that's necessary,
i guess umlaut designates an eased concept of
arithmetic included above the sound: i.e. prolonged,
count +2.

but these are but minor points of consideration,
obviously it would take decades to implement, and knowing
human endeavours in this realm, once fixed, once
fixated, nothing will hardly change - due to the already
existing utilisation, whereby it works perfectly to segregate
people... and the fact that there's no linguistic bible to
mind... but talking about orthodoxy and meddling with
dogma, i'm still bothered about the Malachi heresy,
how could it have been implemented?
i mean, a polytheistic concept of reincarnation is the oldest
form of identity theft, isn't it?
monotheism is incompatible with the concept of reincarnation,
this is the weakest spot / the blemish in Judaism...
Malachi is the actual inventor of Christianity and Islam,
he introduced the concept of reincarnation with
the return of Elijah, as mentioned in the New Testament
where Jesus is compared with Elijah...
it's a monotheistic heresy... reincarnation has no place
in monotheism, yet there it is, glaring at everyone from
the page... it was Malachi's error that gave rise to
schism... the litmus test of a monotheism is it's inability to
succumb to schism... well, Christianity is poly-schismatic,
Islam suffered an infection of schism early on...
Jewish schism?  you either practice or don't...
you either don the full attire of a Hasidic jews or you simply
turn your opinions toward earthly matters...
and so much rigour just because they didn't care to
roll the ******* back during ***, all that much work
from snipping the *******... early intervention did the job,
snip the skin off and we have the most ridiculously
funny god in the thought of man, an entire Mongolian
horde of intellectuals have been spawned from his existence...
imagine if god intervened when plastic surgery came around...
wouldn't be so ******* funny by my count.
****! listening to the radio and standing up between sentences
then realising there's no go-back button... it's live...
sometimes the oddities of not being your own d.j. can be
petrifying, when you're working against the river-current
like a Salmon of rhythm.

lastly... i guess this is a major point, in a magazine article
some dung-heap of opinion wrote something
about poetry, in ditto:
a policeman shoots dead Michael Brown in Ferguson,
Missouri in August 2014, Maggie Smith's poem
Good Bones goes viral, it wasn't about Ferguson,
it was about life being short and often terrible -
continues with: poetry is the language of crisis, of
profound thought and deep emotion, it may not be
much read these days, but it is certainly felt...

is that all true? is poetry the language of crisis?
i think that assertion is a load of *******...
it's a bit like using a hammer to paint the civil room's
walls (living room, i call it the civil room) -
if i'm reading poetry i'm not commuting or lying in bed,
i'm perched on the windowsill in a quasi-akimbo pose,
sipping a glass of bourbon with coca-cola and
smoking a cigarette, mindful of never wanting to
wear contact lenses or eyeglasses,
poetry is more than this idealism about it,
that you read poetry to savour the moment of critical needs,
i read poetry because newspaper articles **** me off...
poetry is like newspaper articles when those monstrous
literary ****** get going for months of necessary
attention to finish them... poetry, when drinking
bourbon, smoking a cigarette, quasi-akimbo on the windowsill,
perfect use of spacing, i bet most people who stick
to poetry will have better eyesight when they grow older.

it’s not everyday you get to end a 7 year psychosis
when redecorating your room to it’s “original” crimson,
having had such a simple symptom as
brain cell membranes breaking and oozing blood out,
to be misdiagnosed as mentally insane,
and when in need of help from the haemorrhage
not driven to the hospital due to the lack of *******
of having proceeded with the deed but forgetting the onslaught of law
in favour of the hurt party... well...what can you do?
move on, as i’m trying, had it been naturally based
on genetic chronology / genealogy i would have suffered in vain...
but i’m brimming with a hate for islam, and there’s nothing
to do but calm the quasi-communist protestors
in the western lands... ******* calm down... you’ll get
your freedom of speech... once you stop trying to censor vocabulary...
there’s no point learning a language if it becomes
politicised and you tell me to block vowels or consonants
in a non-kabbalistic way (which i’ll come to):
so yeah, a 7 year psychosis over a needle in a haystack...
gives me the shivers...
the many times i thought about killing someone
and feeding the emotions with not doing the act...
so many times i was almost skeletally biased to churn the
marrow haemoglobin into tendon stressor action of taking
the knife and doing halal or kosher with someone...
many a times...as many a times i saw crucifixions in edinburgh
not knowing it was going to happen in syria,
and that night when a muslim tried to mug me
in brick lane breaking down in the street of revellers
kneeling in tears screaming a prayer with tears in my eyes
of only one word: allah.
so i started redecorating my room, crimson is back from
hospital white... my bookshelf is rearranged...
on the left on the top shelf fictional books i either read
or didn’t bother to read because of the movies...
to the right on the shelf psychiatric and philosophical books...
the next shelf is a poetry “corner,” well it elongates beyond the corner...
and it’s split by a dictionary with the right bit of the shelf filled
with english poetry and some literature that’s poetic, and french,
the dictionary is planted to segregate the poetry books,
to the left of the dictionary is a book of greek myths
(did you know all greek theology is derived from the new testament
and not from the testament of orpheus or hercules or Perseus?),
then a book on meditative kabblah... then polish books of poetry.
so i rearranged the room, but i also lodged
an essayist’s book on melancholia, a book on depression
a book on an intro. to jung and a book on
schizophrenia lodged between these massive collections:
to the left all the art books... to the right all the books concerning chemistry...
so the books in between can’t really be seen.
as of today i woke with a p.s. from dreams, or a p.s. in dreams,
i woke and imagined myself talking to my mother
about the identity of al-dajjal... the false messiah,
within the conscious realm i just said the words out of the window:
fool you fool me, when mecca / medina become west of paris / london,
i’ll accept riyadh to be east of tehran / new delhi...
then we'll marginalise plateau east with copernican east
via the stars, and wander aimlessly trying to copper-fill
the sun at sunset...
he (muhammad) said the man would be of his nation,
and he said so with a warning...
but ibn saud got away weighing in at 160kg, diabetic and a brawler
with the stomach, the decadent of all that choose either sugary decadence
or some other form of mental instability in the chosen trade of stolen organs.
me? i keep my sanity with the tetragrammaton, cipher this:
this numerology *******, and it is ******* will not do...
enter platonic forms:
y is so so much more than just 25...
what will you see through y with the number 25?
what? nothing, dry brute that i am...
Y represent 3 dimensional space...
the first h is not important given the second h... which is deja vu,
which is less than what malachi insisted with the fractioned god of
the fractioned “elijah” reincarnated...
deja vu can be explained with science as one of the brain’s tricks
to sense this familiarity of seeing an elephant and acknowledging
the five blind men touching it up for comparative jokes,
the W... well... at least it’s not M... given that the trigonometric cosine continuum
begins at 1.... god is one... ring a bell? well better that than
beginning with the trigonometric sine continuum, which begins with 0...
forget numerology... numbers and letters aren’t related...
forget the dogmatism of rabbis - it makes no sense to say a = 1, b = 2 etc.
and then take a word like ape, and say: ‘ah, a = 1, p = 16 and e = 5; by god!
that’s a kabbalistic synonymity of the word... pea!’
where’s the jolly green giant when you need him, eh?
just look at what a phonetic symbol represents...
like secondary darwinism of a primate hissing to alert the presence
of a snake... past darwinism... past drawing antelopes
in french caves... in the realm of abstract phoneticism that
gave us the cognitive genesis... and made as... dare i say... a bit myopic
in a solipsistic sense.
p.s. ah... what are the newspapers saying?
slapstick humour is one of the prime causes of dementia? huh?!
yes, prime minister... is satire comedy?
how the hell can yes, prime minister be categorised as satire
if it uses canned laughter?
see that bloke over there... doing the omnivore pelican dance?
he joked so readily and active that he created authentic laughter...
don’t know where your satire is going... but it certainly left me gagging
for a springroll.
now now... absurdist comedy is too oxbridge for me...
kings and gentlemen get educated in either st. andrew’s or edinburgh...
we laugh at ourselves.
alt. to canned laughter, given that "canned laughter"
is reserved for the authentic laughter of the crowd
at a live show? what's the antonym of canned laughter
in televised satire? picky laughter... i.e. only one person
in an schoolroom of 30 gets the joke, apart from the comedian...
that lonely everest ha ha... ooh chills, frozen prawns in gravy.

as almost every man is born into a pentagonal womb of experiencing the world, a few are born into a hexagonal womb.

to exact Aristotelian logic is to
construct sentences in accordance
with some form of agreement
or disagreement -
               which also concerns the already
stated example above: talk of
sharpening the knife - *as almost every man -
also knows as: attempts to brush of
details under the rug -
   and as Nietzsche said, although
alternatively: beyond universals and particulars -
because who has enough spare time
to think up measuring that ****** concern
for exactness? no one...
unless you're doing the greatest philosophical
feat, as in exacting solipsism
         toward the most adulterous
translation of images into words,
  and backing up words into images (or
copyrights of noun-images) - after all...
wasn't the crucifixion the most excruciating
experiment in proving the point of solipsism?
exactly that: the god-man status as sheltered
by solipsism... so he basically ignored the
poor ******* and said: i'll reach Adam
or god-like status and get myself crucified...
the crucifixion as a spectacle is a form
extracting solipsism...
  Judas ***** off and the thief on the left...
somehow the thief on the right is redeemed...
nonetheless, what a mighty gesture...
instead of the forgiveness of sin,
we get the basics of what solipsism invites...
not a **** on an over-crowded train
but a crucifixion... **** on me...
given it's the 21st century, this wouldn't
pass if the Vatican had any power,
or the orthodox publishing industry...
**** the money, i'm just glad it's out...
but isn't it? he crucified himself in order
to be the supreme soloist...
                    it was only him and everyone else
was.. according to the Islamic calendar lunar
year and doctrine: a phantom...
which Islam borrowed from the original
phantom theory in Gnostics' heresy...
         my my... what a long way toward Arabia...
you have you Arabian Shakespeare with
the Merchant of Mecca and all...
i just think he was a selfish *******...
read the theory? god ***** a ******,
god marries the ******... not even the Greeks
kept up...
                               but still the glottal
juice stream out one name: Malachi's mistake...
Malachi's mistake.... Malachi's mistake...
a god in fractions.... reincarnation from
polytheism adapted to monotheism means
god's in fraction, not a non-divisible number,
whether 1, 2 or 3...
                              yes, i'll be obnoxious enough
to reiterate this point...
             no, my revision of Aristotelian
logic is not based on words, but akin to mathematics
based upon units of sound, not units of meaning:
  i.e. if you can write 1 + 1 = 2
              and you can write a + b + l + e = able
and understand that word... you're a logician
like anyone...
                                 obviously the higher tier
of logic is identifying the word able as an
adjective - but even i don't do that...
                     nor do i press matters into arithmetic
of juxtaposing words into a coherent sentence:
if it feels good... it's right.
so there's me... farting in a crowded train
solipsism... and there's he: getting crucified on
Golgotha... we're both proving the same point...
my proof is peppered with diffusion...
          his proof is peppered with infusion...
he needs the sacredness of icon...
                  done in a shady alley in Jerusalem
and the news wouldn't even spread beyond Lebanon...
              strange... being antisemitic when only
damning one individual...
                               feels much like any thrill seeking
event might...              only because he's so
sacred... when in fact only selfishly seeking the ultimate
god-like solipsism -
                                   easier for people to
bend their knees if you're hanging than sitting
comfortably on a throne...
                  always was... always will be.
but more to the point - i see dead people -
the star of david phrase - not content
  with being pentagon farmers readied for
a completely fluency in the sensual world...
women, wine and song... and sweat...
         a few of us reach the potential of the hexagon...
a sixth inkling concerning the world...
          but, mind you, the sixth limb is a coagulation
of all the faculties available to us...
          a total of the fractions taken from us
to experience a total pentagon immersion in the world:
    a quarter of our heart went into it,
a fifth of our thought went into it,
                         an eighth of our imagination went into it,
and so an so forth...
                            i too wish i had the capacity to
never experience the hexagon...
              and be a fully-hot-blooded-mammal pentagon
worth a rare stake of fancies...
                    eager hollering boxing matches,
crying at football matches... i wish...
                    i wish... i really do...
but then i'm the person who tells you:
               crucifixion, or the adamant need to
stage a solipsistic exit and drag Europe into the dark ages.

PROCESSIONS that lack high stilts have nothing that
catches the eye.
What if my great-granddad had a pair that were
twenty foot high,
And mine were but fifteen foot, no modern Stalks
upon higher,
Some rogue of the world stole them to patch up a fence
or a fire.
Because piebald ponies, led bears, caged lions, ake
but poor shows,
Because children demand Daddy-long-legs upon This
timber toes,
Because women in the upper storeys demand a face at
the pane,
That patching old heels they may shriek, I take to
chisel and plane.

Malachi Stilt-Jack am I, whatever I learned has run wild,
From collar to collar, from stilt to stilt, from father to child.
All metaphor, Malachi, stilts and all.  A barnacle goose
Far up in the stretches of night; night splits and the
dawn breaks loose;
I, through the terrible novelty of light, stalk on, stalk on;
Those great sea-horses bare their teeth and laugh at the dawn.

it's understandable, they confused by complex bilingualism as schizophrenia; oh sorry, it's not actually a scary word, before people start to theorise the mono-lingual pre-maturity of a condition that affects older people, they should seriously begin to listen to what a person is saying; there are tales of surgeons leaving surgical equipment in bodies during surgery... well... at least the physicality of such blunders is more pronounced than leaving regression variations of negated ease (disease) in man... (uncouple that compound and you'll find the subtler alternative)... when psychiatrists make mistakes it's not a heart surgeon making a mistake, the mistakes psychiatrists make are far more profound, given the nature of the mistake being seemingly trivial in comparison... yet these mistakes make our mental life worse by disrupting the narrative, psychiatry, being a science, primarily disrupts the (cognitive) narrative; it's hard enough to find yourself in your mind, let alone a worthy narrative that you encompass... it's hard to reemerge with a good enough narrative when you're branded like an ox, a ******* during the height of Christianity, or registering a car for road tax... it's ****** hard.

so they (i've lost the paranoia additive of this pronoun
a long time ago) thought my bilingualism
was worthy the label of schizophrenia...
well... d'uh, isn't bilingualism a split-mind scenario
in itself?
                    bilingualism is more complex than you think,
it reaches to the depths of each language,
it's not a multilingual acquisition, a polymath hooray!
it's bone deep,
                        bone deep, it goes as far into identity
as all conceivable points of psychological architecture;
which is why my bilingualism was so well
established that i became a bit difficult to society:
my upbringing was to match the difficulty -
i was never supposed to utter a single intellectual
disparity, given my stature i was supposed to be
a manual labourer - a position i'd have gladly undertaken
but (see my earlier entries), but...
                                i never really felt a need for
an animosity toward the English -
                                           i loved everything about England
(or at least London) -
                                                 i left my native country
early enough to sponge-up the new culture,
                   but of course when our family was applying
for citizenship we were the obscure minority,
                 after the floodgates opened and the less
creme of the crop entered these shores,
       i was forced into a spiral reinvention, i was no
longer was the British termed "exotic"...
exotica, hmm, funny how i imagine things exotic as
things in sunny places, slaves in the Caribbean,
the platitudes of certain African Savannahs...
something Voltaire might find befitting to write about
like he did in Candide - there's this neurotic passage in there...
                the passage to India... a book i'll
never read: why? can't be bothered, the t.v. series *Indian Summers
does it for me;
                                  plus i do like cooking curry,
so there's the f                        u                            to take-away
curry...           i have an arsenal of spices and i bomb Kashmir
with whiffs of the stuff...
                                    that part of my is what the intended cultural
assimilation was intended for: the rest? n'ah ah.
                               what spurred me to write this poem?
Heidegger's concept of someone moving and integrating
into a different culture: to be honest, the country i was born
in was uniquely pressed to turn its habitants into nomads -
      it was a town primarily based on the steel industry -
now it's a town of pensioners - the steel industry fell to ruin
and people had either the choice of: elsewhere in Poland,
or abroad.
                                    still, things were much nicer
   when the barrier was up... selfishly said? i agree, but then
i had enough air to breathe as a sole artefact of the ethnicity,
and a good enough reputation as a person needing to
persistently learn... had i been a crook? well, now i find
my ethnic background elsewhere, in a near mythical place
in Scandinavia - not that i want to, but i don't actually
have an atypical (a typical) physiognomy of a Slav -
so that's a plus...
                                     but what really spurred me on
was what Heidegger describes as the threshold and indeed
the essence of integration: to learn the language,
to use the language, nothing but language in terms of
being considered a certain noun - in this case, British;
so this is a German perspective from the 20th century...
the British perspective in the 21st century?
                         kinda like **** Germany...
language? forget it... you can speak with a ****** accent
and even ******* grammar... what's at work here
is ethnic cleansing, on a spiritual side of things -
language can rot in hell for the English, what they want
new citizens is to: a. eat fish 'n' chips
                                  b. talk ***** when *******
                         c. lick the **** of Americans
          d. have a sense of moral superiority because of
                    that poncy accent that's becoming a dodo
       e1. forget their mother tongue
         e2. only speak English in private
                            f. respect the Muslim attire but
        to never respect fellow European's concerned
                           about many other things
      g. amongst other things...
so it's not enough to learn the ******* language, that i have to
become a ******* serf? oh wait, i have some spare change
in my pocket (puts hand in a trouser pocket and takes out):
the *******!
                                  or how you find yourself
in an imploded British Empire, go beyond London and you
enter something less resembling a global community
and more a national socialist set of self-evident dicta
wrecking havoc to your senses.
                              and all this from a humble background?
well: freaks and mutations sometimes happen...
                    being born near to the date of Chernobyl doesn't
really help to counter the argument:
           yes, even in Poland, the effects were felt,
my great-grandmother remembers streaks of radiated trees
and un-radiated trees in the park -
        the radiated trees were born... a strange kind of rainbow...
and yes, i do take the **** out of **** Germany
while talking about it and Jewish mysticism -
                                Malachi the arch-heretic (who introduced
a polytheistic concept that does not fit in with monotheism:
reincarnation) -
                            oh look:      something came out of this
conviction that told me to duly apologise to the concept
of the two late monotheistic religions:
                             on your own, can't be bothered -
Christianity was always going to be more image orientated
(after all, the crucifixion is a good enough image)
   and Islam was always going to be more word orientated
(something to shout about, actually, to just shout it) -
the Judaism i found?
                              not being circumcised and what not,
not adhering to the religion as such?
  the lord of the rings and harry potter...
simple... how?
                               please make oaths, swear, use profane
language... maybe that will make your actions less profane
and this isn't 19th century Victorian society event where
people talk polite but play ***** according to the escapades
of Dorian Gray...
                              i'm still adamant that auto-censorship
of a name (the name, i.e. ha-shem) does wonders for your
vocabulary - oath, **** **** ****, words are actually:
                or conjunctions, and this means you can use them
to destroy the barricades of fluidity -
                                 do we really need to say certain names?
Islam says the name all the ****** time,
        Christianity doesn't even know the name of the father:
Jules?                      Jason?                Jeremiah?
                                           can't be Yves...
                   and did 1st century fishermen write?
wasn't that a rebellion against the literate Pharisees etc.?
             so it's pretty much like the harry potter / lord of the rings
rule: Sauron
                       designates the tetragrammaton
   and the necromancer designates ha-shem...
                                                or...
         Voldemort designates (as above)
              and tom-riddle                   blah blah...
oh i have actually washed my hands clean of two most
populous religions in the world -
                            i can't believe that so many people can be
right about something,
                                    would i desire to argue to this
to the grave? not really, i prefer to look at it as a chance fancy,
my real concerns are based upon the question:
   why would bilingualism, ever, be treated as a case
of schizophrenia?
                                           perhaps the language is too
difficult to follow, perhaps i'm reciting a poem by
                           half caste by john agard -
but this **** isn't skin deep, i can't blow the sax in a liberating
transcendence of slavery, or do that other form of
rebellion -
                    &nb

when women speak of eternity, my masculine immortality says: do i have to?! why? because my masculine mortality didn’t.*

that a prophet’s nation is not without honour, but among the nation’s
ownership of itself in what’s being compared as nation-defining,
and thus dishonour with a nation’s history claiming more than
the nation’s honour in terms of taught examples lost
in emotion guaranteed by pride and jealousy,
so telling the history of poland
via the polish-lithuanian commonwealth
as defining poles...
nest well in a foreign tongue in order to keep your mother’s,
should your father’s execution of foreign tounging disgrace your mother...
but no talk of honour... should a nation’s honour be
defaced to localise individualism...
thus localise individualism and deface to entrust such a nation
with the concept of globalisation that f. d. r. could have oppossed
in the riddle of isolationalism that ended the great depression
and the phobia of the last years of misguided capitalism
carving the futurism of domestication of anything but the sexually adequate:
consciously-careful animalism of grunt and snorkle and bitten snouts
of the animalism correcting the 90 angle into 3.2 children multiplier
as perfected village people: 4kg of potato, 3 children, 2 pints of milk...
34 sundays kneeling in a church in aid of worship to dogmatise the pyramidal prism
as an aversion to staircases nonetheless climbed
to echo arthritis oiled for the perfected propaganda caste.

Those unfaithful
Those desert jackals
The wicked and the sinful

I have loved you
I have loved you

Now we call the arrogant blessed
Certainly evil doers prosper
Even when they put god to the test
They get away with it

Those have defiled
Those who desecrate
The evil and the profane

I have loved you
I have loved you

Now we call the arrogant blessed
Certainly evil doers prosper
Even when they put god to the test
They get away with it
They get away with it

Heed my words Judah
Change your ways Ely
Find your homes you son's of Dan

I have loved you
I have loved you
I have loved you
I have loved you

Malachi show us the way
Sacred words to show us wisdom
That we may abandon our idols
And find the glory

why is everyone so ******* sensitive these days? Brine Kaiser? die Norden Kaiser? well, Tsar and Fuhrer taught them well... the Brits want to smoke the Poles out in providing a narrative... the empire is gone... gone gone gone... i'm just curious... why is everyone so sensitive these days? personally? i obstruct any point of monotheistic orthodoxy with the Malachi heresy of the concept of reincarnation... Christianity doesn't and Islam doesn't really bother me... Harry Enfield said enough to counter: said as much; if ever you were looking for the perfect cloning mechanics, i'd look at Christianity and Islam... god... using these words in any rational discussion can make anyone and everyone seem so ****** barbaric.

you already heard of the Hebraic version
of democracy *ecce **** - in Christ, and thus said:
in the outer-Roman conquerors or Yiddish
and Holocaust -
the twisted Hindu doctrine -
thus the crowd bellowed -
and thus, the crowd, received -
to what waking hour are
we to be woken to in fear?
as this fear, perpetrates to be
heard and resound in profoundness?
or hath no Jew a clue
as to weave an answer?
                       except that concerning
Palestine?! then so be said: as
it would be done -
                         or keeping
to a polytheistic doctrine
at its centre Malachi's reincarnation mantra -
then too spat on,
rejected,               admonished -
             then by equal cure: also
done unto by equating measure;
for i have no cherry to cherish
in the suburbs of Jerusalem,
as i have no figs to break Ramadan with
to suit a Muslim -
            both to me both are deservedly walled in -
and inclined to take each other's lives -
                 and should be entombed
in their jealousy of heated dispute -
both are worth the wall,
with one wall the Jews built to encode
an exclusion of Arabs, then i, with a second,
exclude the Jew with Arab,
and a second wall, beginning with
the Ottoman and ending with the Saudi -
there: each rat to eat his own...
and learn monotheism as if he were learning
cannibalism;
anyone with other lessons reside here: and the future
of that region is spared in retaining the present...
leave 'em to it, like rat eating rat in
a tomb of awaited death...
                  leave them, to it:
just so i can hear the peasant eat the rabbis
of quickened-tongues when they start dressing-up
    to a spectacle: authority of dress from imam
and rabbi... authority of dressing up,
never, never, the learning curvatures of what
expansion: in the beginning was the word: reason -
   or the one who didn't dress-up
              in fancy dress, but made eloquent
his reasons, and the impersonal god -
                       the pepper in the arses of the crowd:
as said: ants in my pants and i was about to say: termites:
'cos i was woody Allen and a full-bloodied ****...
        come north, come north,
they came north... what attacked the Romans
they thought wouldn't attack them; oh gee... it did.
brick them up together, them along with the Palestinians,
i want the Saudi reaction... they're rich enough
to give me one; if they don't? i'll ask the Bangladeshi
slaves who built the Dubai tower about how one fares
in the desert.

early on i left an imprint for me to remember,
kinda like 2 x 2, equating to 4,
not as simple with words:
i like this dialectic between Dionysian and
Apollonian attempts to express aye arr parley!
shake the pine trees to get the toothpicks
like you might get a mojito, onward! toward
El Dorado! transgressing 24 hour hours
and you get the flavour:
first beer in in from dieting, oh ****, it's bitter,
second beer, mm, sweeter... then the headline
of whiskey and coke... Kazakhstan nice... yok sh'eh mash?!

three movements working their way,
those conquered and exposed to direct roman rule,
presiding over the "charm" with roads, western europe,
now they're so pride to reach that far back,
mention Boudica, one, more, *******, time!
i'll give you Britain that made Louis XIV
the peasant king at Versailles, and Charles II
wise with a Guy Fawkes firecracker... mm, guess
it happened here! in the yeast of a baker's
reincarnation via Malachi's heresy:
Elijah coming soon? Elijah not coming any time
you blunt sword of monotheism excluding
the chance of many, democratic influences!
either the fish or the aquarium...
the aquarium... a billion of them plus Islam will
be anarchic China, people never wish for better,
they only wish to better themselves,
including the social strata stampede that's necessitated
in the process... scientific positivism of Enlightenment
died, the absolute necessity (god) / the absolutely
necessary thing became trapped in the Bermuda
or the Copernican triangle, no good for crossing
oceans, just ably whirling east to no east outside
the atmosphere, try me with two thing:
Copernican vectors with a stable point constantly moving,
rather than sunny, constantly expressed economically
as usurper against usurer and the university grant
of simony, although worthy of an actor to spread
charitable work and paedophilia in Asia dubbed
Portuguese Missionary - well i'm sure the apologetics will
come, my neighbour hugging her dog watching television,
closest kin of the genesis story having secondary reminders
determining whether the lie was white or instructive,
a joke or seriousness - indeed entombed in treating these
words as a holiness worth for all the present religious attire.
absolutely necessary Kant said,
he also said: you said omni- etc., indeed you're on a
roundabout of intellectual yawns, there's nothing new here!
i need god as a concept of vectors and cursors, mediating
more than the caging of man's affirmation of himself
with Freud... the sounds and equally shared optics
need to accommodate a oneness, god is a predicate
of essential function: a. the triple affirmative:
i, thought, existence... something to concern myself with,
b. the duo affirmative:
denial, thought, existence... the arithmetic goes further,
i am writing quickly hence i will not brood over,
except a comparison in cinema, the film *hostel (2005)
and pretty much all of Hollywood's 1970's grit output...
take for example Al Pacino in the panic in needle park,
you know what i see? modern american interpretation
of what eastern europe represents, the farts
leave flamboyant Amsterdam hopeful for Slavic ******,
they come to Slovakia, and it hits them,
the passive lack of jealousy and need to impress
building a chrysler building, the oddity like landing on mars...
but it's already been done with, New York in the 1970s,
the same slavic grit, even the way the cinematography looks
like the colours were shaded with a peppering of sand...
new york in the 1970s is like Eastern Europe in
the horror set in 2005 in Slovakia... globalisation's paranoia,
there are still people out there who we can't ascribe
metaphors to being exclusive: no iron lady lifted the
iron curtain, the iron lady had an iron skirt, and she
couldn't lift that up either... Churchill puffer a cigar
and a million bees emerged heralded by Edward the Confessor.
that's the relation though, Hollywood's 1970's urban grit
and what the tourists encountered in Slovakia in 2005,
a sleepy kingdom, 2nd Mongolia, second to none,
which i beg to differ with, given the Scots were tight
stretching 2 pence copper coin to invent copper wire
and the Swiss (also in hilly surroundings) have us
elaborate paedophilia via Nabokov catching butterflies...
hardly two mountain ranges and hardly two plateaus.
it's called exotica these days... yep... the dissection of
the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth and the emergence
of both Lach, Ukrainian, Lithuanian, Latvian, Estonian
and White Russian is what the Czech say made them
speak both cesky and saksonski... tseba! holy roman
prague ****, disintegrated into the Austrian intervention...
very much as if: thank you for defending Vienna from
the Ottomans, Jan Sobieski.
but the Jews got reparations at the end of the ordeal,
and western Europe received the Marshall Plan...
eastern Europe received Marx... too proud they said,
it's not exactly Mama Russia surrogate,
it's Papa Khan also... moon gall! no news from Mongolia
i hear, sooner a tale from an American zoo
where a retired silver-back dragged a baby from
drowning in an inch of water, hero shot,
where were the parents? a four year old can hardly
sit on a kitchen stool let alone climb over zoological
fortifications... ah the blessing given unto man
by Iblis to ape ably a delay he has no chastity over:
if Iblis defended his pride, then man can but
defend his chastity - Iblis was given a longer time-frame,
man was given a shorter time-frame, Iblis'
choice expands furthest into myth, man's choice
implodes further into repetition - for Iblis' mistake
was but one, when knowing of man's aplenty;
it is said that when a man is to become a father,
he relives his childhood - legality i say would have
obliged me, but pride took no notice of symbols as signatures
of such love, especially given the expenses,
or as in the supermarket today, the cashier invested ?
into the one buying the goods:
- where is she? you're not together any more?
- oh, she's moving to York, it's her work, she has to.
- you're not moving with her?
- well, it's only for 2 years, and then she'll be back,
  training, it will take her 4 months...
na'h ah... bye bye...                       she ain't coming back...
tell you what mate, keep a cat, the most selfish animal,
bestia ex solipsism - no necessary petting by constantly
showering it signs of jealousy and ownership and upkeep,
as if having to punch a gorilla to hold hands.
i love feminism for one thing only:
it made sexism a branch of Darwinism, *** warfare...
in relation to me? two girls chatting away:
- *******! how could he leave you!
- but he did!
- what ***** made him do it!
- philosophy!
don't get me started on those who read very little
and can't allow philosophy a poetic form, and necessarily
have to plagiarise Aristotelian stylistics to be considered
philosophy (albeit only in scholarly musings).
i'm sure it was something about the fruits of our
presupposed wisdom that bore knowledge that individuated
us, to the point of extremes, as hardly scraps for
vultures, to no animal nobleness, parasitic amongst each other,
defining the 16th century or such desires to keep
afresh, minted and pampered for the next cohort of dupes...
some find the memory of dogs towards us keener
than our fellow men should wish to share...
the animal domesticated and not eaten is seemingly our
prefect to walk toward a seize-less craft of un-exhausted thought,
only un-exhausted because of missing interaction,
say there, is that Hegel's mirror (master) and narcissus (slave)?
the emergence of these belittled nations is clear in
western europe, the bombing of Libya,
the usurpers of Syria, the once conquered having a taste
for empire and colonial rule think they cherish
the biblical conundrum when the resurrection was inclined toward
the lands Sven and Mietek - toward the lands
of conquerors and the ones converted -
four movements thus (sketched):
a. sonata: βορας ηλιος - μακεδων να ινδια
b. adagio: βιργιλιος ως καντηνoν -
                  μεσoγειος: μαυρος (ex),
κoκκινος (ex), ειρηνικoς (ex),
ατλαντικoς (ex), βoρειος (ex), βαλτικη (ex),
south a poet, north a philosopher,
from only one sea came two oceans and many other seas
to sustain the thirst for seawater among men!    
c. scherzo: Casimir the 3rd welcoming the Jews.
d. sonata: an die mitternachtfreude - more like a calm
before taking up the arms.

i know of Knausgård -  sure, and i share this concerns for
the art of taking to lumber and chopping,
  as novelists tend to do, write with an axe,
philosophise with a hammer...
          metaphor turned into imagery
counter-turned into literalism...
   i once imagined him not being there -
i once wrote ich kampf, stressing
that it was an indefinite expression
of expression, primarily due to the content
of the pronoun... and i was referring also
to the definite expression (much obliged,
atheism, a- without, and the- with,
or indefinite and definite articulation) -
the English eye sees one stance as definite,
and another as indefinite, and juxtaposes
the two interacting...
                          they duly interchange...
i can say ich kampf and say i internalise
verbs: a movement of the hand,
   a strutting or a waltzing circumstance
of owning a body... that's what it's indefinite...
that's why Sartre slithered in counter to
his expanse in philosophy: because i really loved
his novels...
                          but in terms of a mein or
a mit (including me) struggle i find not
ease... no one dares to devalue ****** as a human,
not talking about the past history in purely human
terms urges the postscript of a dictator,
it actually elevates him to a godly status...
           not realising the human is to make flaws
of what the en masse does: raises him to a godly status...
     Zeus had a beard... not a Charlie Chaplin moustache...
right now he's laughing in his grave...
                      old Aldous ******...
   and aren't dictators born because people find their
surnames a little bit funny? it starts so
innocently...          and then it morphs...
   and it becomes an unstoppable morphing...
    yes... i know of a certain number of fellow
      contemporaries... because i want to? no,
because i have to. like rewatching the 2015 film
android - some films you have to rewatch...
   what's being debated? autism and artificial intelligence...
   hyperactive autism, i grant you that...
        it dawned on me... at autistic person could
fake a normal human response treating it as
      artificial... artificial also means mimicked -
  it means that "smart" guy at a bar reciting poetry
he hasn't written... artificial intelligence or the study of it
or even creating it has nothing original about it...
it's not groundbreaking in the same sense that
discovering champagne or penicillin is...
or l.s.d., because these examples have the magic of
being discovered by chance... humanity has been
artificially simulating intelligence since time
immemorial... it's that natural consequence of not being
endowed with a peacock's array of feathers
   to create a soothing, and sickly gentle wind of a woman
resting in a hammock under the shade of a palm tree...
artificial intelligence was inherent in us...
       it's the unravelling of the historical noumenon of man,
the per se that has only crept up on us,
   and before the reality of such a foundation being
established... the humanities create the "prophetic"
citations of it being true: in the "near" / impeding future.
    if god is a noumenon, then man cannot be a
phenomenon... but he is and paradoxically the two
of mutually compatible on a basis of exclusive rather than
an inclusive naturalisation...
               we are talking nature:
  we are talking god naturalised by the medium
suggesting: for i am bound to create obstacles and test
the body, rather than the mind of man...
    as so is man, also naturalised by the medium
of the elements, saying: for i am bound by a body,
   and have to utilise the body first, to overcome the wind
and the snow and the furthermore, until i reach
the labyrinth of the mind...
  and man has done just that, he has bypassed the struggles
of the body, and created entertainment using
the body that once struggled against the elements...
   for he has created the god Minotaur: and the psychic
labyrinthe... as with the Titans whom the gods
usurped, so too comes the twilight of the gods...
but being usurped by demigods...
       Minotaur was a demigod... who usurped the gods
of the trinity that were Zeus, Poseidon and Hades...
        for only the Greeks could create a Judaic bewilderment
as to why a sign was given unto an infant...
           but that's getting technical...
the film, android (2015)? it supports the misconception,
the anguish of a highly functioning autism...
      whereby showing a woman's carelessness in the realm
of adaptability with what some would claim to be
the beginning point of: overcoming the elements...
sure the odd tsunami and earthquake...
   but there's also the tiger, and winter, and parasite,
   and diseases of so many variations...
              man has not been endowed with complete
control over his surrounding... but in becoming partially
overlord of the ones tamed, he has created a mental
labyrinth... a world of such complexity that will
inevitably produce instances of autistic genius...
                 artificial intelligence is already imbedded in us,
just as cloning and Islam has already existed
(Christianity is too schismatic to be considered a cloning
definition... and Judaism as a monotheistic principle
has a heresy embedded in its orthodoxy that it simply
ignores: reincarnation... the Malachi heresy...
  that a second Elijah comes... and god becomes a half)...
   we see artificial intelligence everywhere...
        if the myth goes that woman fed man the original
lie of Eden... then man has nothing else to do than
attempt to polymer that one single lie...
       and repeat it... a reverse intrusion to what "could"
have been an utopian splendour.
      we all see artificial intelligence rummaging about
in the choices people make... it's called lying
   to gain access to a ****** gratification...
  or as i like to call it: a way to compensate our falling short
of the norm, a norm that focuses upon creating
   the most complex startup a Silicon Valley genius
can't comprehend... a family.
    these times prescribe such a bewilderment...
              families are artefacts of what some believe
precipitated into barbarity so close to us: the 20th century...
        and all those arguments you hear that might
discourage the opposite ***, as in damning your parents
for a piece of seashore **** fest of the *****?
   probably came from a person born from a surrogate
mother... well... an incubator, a very expensive *****...
   homsexuality created the evolution of prostitution,
once bound to the genitals... now bound to the womb...
     i.v.f. kids calling natural kids ******...
   i never liked the matrix movies in all honest...
but we're seeing the reversal of the original idea...
                 in the matrix of knowledge... hearts become
piñata: chockies sweet, sensations abundant,
  the spectrum is yours.
                but this poem isn't really about that...
i can sip a whiskey and actually find these things when
i start to utilise these symbols... it sometimes happens
that they fall through... all i was really thinking about
is the "theoretical" score of 147...
                      i'll call them billiards rather than *****
to excuse a "he-he" Michael Jackson laugh at a chance
of "nuance"...
       yellow (2), green (3), brown (4), blue (5), pink (6), black (7)...
and plenty of red (1)... points in bracket respectively...
                  of course from childhood memory i sided with
ronnie... also from Romford... an obscure town in Essex
that oversees the shard and canary wharf from
a distance...                    but watching snooker as a child...
          not too bad at pub-snooker: i.e. pool...
and that game show when snooker was hot back in
the 1990s... big break, with jim davidson as host...
    and of course: john virgo as the rejuvenated
                         ghost of alex higgins... this whiskey
swiggly is on me al.
                 but this final... ****! at one point it was
a century after a century...
                     chess with mathematics, trigonometry
and Pythagoras in motion...
                                    the gods playing with saturn
and jupiter neptune planetary arrangements...
            i can't word it properly... but it'll definitely sound
better than a concussion after too much rugby and
the rough-stuff of "manhood" strutting with bulging
muscle tensions... rather than this Japanese warrior-monk
in a waistcoat and bow-tie swirling a stick in the air...
           i just thought of one thing...
15 wildebeests on an African savannah...
       out comes one lioness...
    and she nibbles at the pack... and she picks off
the weakest of the 15 wildebeests...
              she nibbles the pack before the pack breaks away...
         she looks left (red) and then looks right (yellow,
green, brown, blue, pink, black) -
                      and she picks at the pack, one by one
they fall... but there are two games going on...
   there's the no-man's land snooker where the game is
about entrenchment, and snookering the opponent
for a foul... and then there's the tsunami snooker...
which kinda looks like one person playing chess...
     with no opponent other than a chance mistake...
misjudgement on the case of instinct and how they ******
well know what angle to fudge the white lioness
                onto the billards... and with what force...
      tsunami snooker, or cascade snooker is basically
a monologue...
                             after seeing 3 centuries in a row
you get to crave classical snook -
                                       the mind games of safety shots...
   and teasing, and tempting, and teasing, and tempting,
before the Rubic cube unravels itself,
   and you find that light at the end of the tunnel...
                        and the black pops into...
i'll be honest, i haven't watched snooker for a long time...
        maybe that's why i feel so enthusiastic about it...
       it's sometimes good to be fed this mundane diet
of sport-fanaticism that football is in accordance with
religious dogma... it's a good thing...
             then you end up watching a game of snooker
and all these things start firing up your brain...
   and you end up saying:
      the Taj Mahal can be there for all i care...
the Grand Canyon can be there for all i care...
                    such things don't really require a photograph
with my gimp-face trying to make other people jealous
by actually being there: only to take a photograph,
rather than feed into the air and the thrill of being there...
        as they say... it's a small world after all...
better get used to it being much bigger inside your head.

all this en masse... gravity toward...
"sanity" and sobriety...

well... it's the nicety of giving /
stating compliments...

if only there was less
fertile ground:
to make one's arguments for...

if the united kingdom
was more akin to... iceland...

             i drink...
  and that gives me hope
in my original venture:
h'america signed a plot
line division:
to abhor the liquid...

for it brought nothing but ill...
constipated abolitionists...
whiskey frankenstein's
monster's fire: bad... mantra...

in that:
the perverted persuasion
tactic of the... limited sober...
sane... the... cream / rather not:
the creep of the crop...
and this is... somehow...
the **** worthy of harvesting?

one ghost... limping...
dead loitering limb...
a foot... for that crazed
ballerina...
then a jargon of a hand
missing... ghost reading
of braille...
             as one does:
when one's elbow
arrives on the scene...
with... robert downey jr.
and tommy lee jones...

then again... ask...
what is... homogeneity...
to the... russians...
                    sweep-stake
the concept of mongol and orc...
somehow: the old east...
is the new south...
you have an imploded "problem"...
you allow it...
all the circus rights of a democratic
load and loot and allowance...

those... whitey...
masochistic chant-lords...
are no good to begin: governing:
anew...

i hear one more ref. to 1984...
i swear to god...
i'll start the **** book burning
fiasco...
              that's all that's ever recited
these days...
it's not the monolith of the bible
recitation...
it's 1984...
it's not even: homage to catalonia...
it's not even...
the stranger by albert camus...
it's this... fixation on:
this was necessarily true...
it had to be necessarily true:
since... we ensured that it be...
necessarily true!

         brave new world
and 1984: sometimes known as...
the works of prophet isaiah...
and malachi...
or some bogus first choice answers...

it's not like charles dickens...
the pickwick papers are to be cited...
no... ray bradbury's
          fahrenheit 451...
     or "we" by yevgeny zamyatin...
is no... one...
to cite... from...
the master and margarita...
mikhail bulgakov -
then again... again... again...
       he, of our own...
that was always right...
and we... of his own...
dumb enough... to have...
         walked... into his...
prediction... and... gloated at it...
when... walking into it...
**** y'ay: brovado!

          it's one scrutiny to...
blind time with all the omnipresence
of open space...
that there is a future:
you'll forgive me: there isn't one...
it's all... kiss and kick
a donkey with a whipping:
blind... then... fish one out...
for the royal ascot...
with an imaginary carrot...
the stick doesn't mind...
whether it be imaginary:
or detailed...

                  but as long as someone...
somewhere...
    is reading an alternative...
not some... thought-fulfilling gravity
of consorts and bitter bitten knees
with more than mere...
masochism of kneeling on pebbles...
there's the... kneeling...
and the exposed calf... and biting riddles
of... the demon with a name akin
to belzeebub! the one associated
with minding mosquitos!

     sayz who?

that these... people... are well verse...
they cite 1984 by george orwell...
like they might cite the *******
quran...
         because: hey presto!
something is real!
they adore... the past...
catching up to the present...
and the present being
devoid of a future...
who aren't the people...
already drunk from...
something in the past...
   coming true?!

      of fruit:
the U.B.D. the B.B.D.
and the S.B.D.
  i love those acronyms as much as i love...
that... affair with the acronym of...
the idea of USA... prior to...
   the louisiana purchase...
                     that little affair of
anglo-dutch proto-germanicus...
maine... new england...
all that fuzzy jazz and... smog...
and lost clue... for: dreamland of
lingering horror...

  so said the sober and "sane" people...
that sanity of the blah of the herd...
well... yeah...
h'america and probihition...
one of those... moon-milking
nation of narratives...
              how science-fiction was
always to eclipse the science itself.

Can you imagine that bottle of Canadian whiskey on its last few shots?
And my crouched body and their comfortable nostalgia?

And thoughts of these dark times,
And his dark grave,
And finally a drunk dial to an old friend
Consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and bad, drunken Star Wars references
As if a few Chewbacca jokes can fix this mess

And there's that familiar feeling of almost breaking into tears
And the tough-girl response of "**** this, pass me the whiskey"

And this hammered mess thinks,
I wish I could forget
I wish I could leave the earth
I wish I were Mr. Malachi Constant
And *******, I wish death weren't so ****** final

But then again, I don't think I've ever been alive
No matter how fast my heart has beat
No matter how sentient these moments have made me feel
And no matter how many shots of Canadian whiskey I managed to tackle
I think, like Frankenstein's monster, maybe I was born to be half-alive
While my mind circles back to these dark times, and his dark grave,
and finally a drunk dial to an old friend,
consisting primarily of "I'm sorry" and Star Wars references
as if a few shots of Canadian whiskey will bring us all to life

Are you a real boy, now?

.ich bin der feuer, das bloß isst, und isst, und isst... und... isst; ein feuer das für immer verbrauchen!

i counted...
you know how many times, it takes a male
sparrow to approach a female sparrow,
            to impregnate her?
                                                 11... ELEVEN -        eh-lé-ven...
                            é-le(h)-ven...
­             times...
                                          it's almost like
******* for the darwinists...
                                   at least the marxists say:
                                 woman ≠ mantis ≠ black widow spider...
the biology of marxism is stated, plainly:
we exclude all other biological products
of this earth... we accept a case for bio-diversity...
    but what will transgender ever do for us?
as asked, simply an e.g.
                       marxism doesn't draw conclusion
from the animal realm...
     it's not supposed to...
                          you want to compare yourself
to a mantis?    **** me! go right ahead...
       "eat" the man in the legal courts...
                   bite his head off... or at least make
his head focus on the vector alimony.
                 marxism is species exlusive...
            social darwinism? it's species inclusive...
hence the comparisons...
                                 women as black widows...
       it's ******* sick... at least compare yourself
to a ******* serpent...
               which, i'm trying to find the ****,
and eyelids on...
                                    huh?
                  ­ last time i heard snakes don't blink...
and that's auto-suggestive of the question:
   how do they take a ****?
                      i can't call the cards stating a
"cultural" marxism... since what is cultural,
                                      is actually darwinism.
by now, marxism says: stop the ******* comparison
of the highest form of mammal (human)
                with the lowest form of reptile (insect)!
*******!               and if that's not what's going on,
then i'm either dead, writing from beyond the grave,
of plain stupid...     the self-raising flour type
                                                 of argumentative(s);
the moment they stop denying that cultural darwinism
doesn't exist?       that's when you have an excuse.
me? i have my whiskey, and my cigarettes,
    and some fleetwood mac...
                                     and i live on the borderline
between an urban environment, and the countryside...
       what's one of my favourite hobbies while drinking?
sorting oout the trash... i have this fetish for
     recycling... i get all itchy fingers, like an octopus
when it comes to sorting out the trash...
          like a german with his wind-farm's worth turbines...
i love recycling... those orange bags...
                   you know that marxism was born from
             the meagre material of hegel's lecture notes, right?
and that mongolia was the first communist country?
     yeah, they experimented the ideology in mongolia, first.
anyway... getting drunk, and taking out the trash...
        recycling...    for some reason, i can only compare it
to riding a bicycle in the english countryside...
    or the sound of a french horn... compared to a cow farting.
a maine **** farting:
**** me, that's like seeing the taj mahal!

p.s.
i find it uncomfortable to find millenials
faking praises of the gen-Z...
ping-pong in the modern labyrinths
of shopping, really?
you said your bit, let me say mine...
   people are not made to become
precursors?! really?!
   problem...
as a male... an older woman drunk
looks pathetic:
an old man drunk: eh... that's just normal...
an 50+ aged bachelor:
no problem...
a 50+ "maiden": that's terrible...
a solitary man ageing doesn't
look half as bad as an ageing woman...

   who looks better:
roger moore "vs." helen mirren?
too many predictions /
past the common spreschen:
predicts in association to
a respectable lingua...

what are, "my" precursors for the worth
of completing myself...
i hear the warrior-"philosophers"
spew...
    in light of infanticide...
man up man up to, what?
   what are my ambitions in
and to thorough life?
              none resemble the affects
associate with serving the ambitions
of a genus, of a species,
of a cultural darwinism narrative,
as if to, magically,
counter the cultural marxist narrative...
i am to counter?
really?! what's there's to counter?
all the idiot will be half-way through
breeding while i'm planning
my exit strategy...
the human species will be fine
and dandy... whether white or copper
skinned is beside the point...
i just don't tend to appreciate
abortion frivoloties and whatever remains
of masculine ambitions...
well i already know what "masculine ambition"
involves with the opposite ***...
within the confines of oneself...
hello prison esque "return the favor"...
shoved my head up my own ***
for too long i guess...
or a not deep enough pocket of "spare" change...
to fund:
               how many moments of insight will
you find listening to a high-heel
on a vinyl rack when a vinyl is missing?!
as many as i would ever have...
   nooooooooooooooooooon!

    what have i not obliged myself to become
to counter social expectations?
i am a social nuisance...
    a culmination of the reigning pathos...
but a sorry state of affairs
is truly a woman in her 30s and her 40s
with... more an abortion in hand
than a birth of a child and a second child
to come...
  a drunk woman always appears more
forlorn than a drunk man....
as a man: i am persistent in providing
myself with the ambition
of giving birth ti myself,
even after i am born...
   i am still to be born,
in that i am to give birth to myself:
a feat, which will finally materialise upon
my death...
but a woman?
     if she hasn't ventured into her
biological realism of spawning birth...
that outcompetes her own
intellectual endeavour and surpasses it?
i don't have that existential luxury
of an existential fulfillment process of
the "easy answer"...
the best i can accomplish to compensate
a replica in terms of being pregnant
is harvest an array of parasites...
tapeworm or cancer...
certainly not a matthew,
or a samatha, or a malachi,
        or an amelia.

                   the closest i'll ever come
to an experience of a foetus is my own ego...
to learn to disembody myself in the variations
of:
   (a) the reflexive: myself, and
(b) the reflective: my self...
                  women have the easy existential
explanation: to provide the continuum narrative...
"we", men? the sort of ******* that comes
in between, the custard explanations,
the excuses worth the ingenuity of "problems
solved".

   question is: where these the "problems"
to begin with?
    this desolate man still concerns himself
with tennis:
two players...
an array of umpires... the size of a football team
(11)... and the ball collector boys / girls
(6)...
       an old bachelor... is half the problem
of the half of society's ills...
                   but an old maid / spinster?
        
a drunk man can retain his stage of funny...
but a drunk woman of the same age
is just tragic.

i'm still working from an example of two words,
lekki and leki (medicine / pills) -
the former better sharpened means
slight, e.g. lekki problem /
a slight problem -
  and because English as a language
does not apply gentrification of words,
quiet like the French where words are either
masculine, feminine or asexual... you get
the 2nd St. Paul in the unearthed
book of St. Thomas...
    you have the transgender movement,
only because there is no gentrification
of words...
                 it's no wonder the Pharisees
were ******* at the idea of fishermen gaining
the ability to write, given the times of 32 a.d.,
and how they were good strong lads,
and how learning phonetic encoding
they had their sphere of dream capacity
stolen from them...
for it would be foolish to think that
He'h-Zeus didn't plan a rebellion from
the bottom, taking those happily engrossed
in a world of labour, attached to
a world of labour and ultimately the highest
health without the learned parasitic counter,
you don't keep a monopoly on something
and expect no reaction... you don't expect
start believing that illiteracy is an ill...
only when you sentence people who are
keen to do physical assemblages while being
taught literacy do you finally get confusing,
people stop being attached to the world,
they stop dreaming, their dreams are uneventful,
there is no escapism for them,
  they start to daydream and do a ******
job on their manual labour...
                      apart from that i'm not surprised
that Christianity sorta unravelled itself
for critique once the nag hammadi
library was discovered in Egypt, and
the historian Josephus wrote of a false prophet
from Egypt...    
         needless to say the νεw τεσταμεντ (yep,
greeks don't know how to woo or say it's small
in scottish, as in wee) - is all greek...
actually, if i remember correctly, two Greeks came
across He'h-Zeus back when the preaching was done...
        sons of thunder: you'd imagine a lesser
case for hot-air balloons... sons of lightning would
have been better appropriated... lightning wit, e.g.,
but no: bombastically thunderous in their preachings...
not too quick on the thought behind
   the empty stomach gurgling in the sky....
but that's beside the point, the one single most reliable
suggestion of embedded idiosyncrasy in a language
is the enforced stutter in Polish...
   i'm sure no one bothered to tell you this,
i mean, Polish, on the global scale that's probably worth
as much as Dutch or Norwegian, or Flemish,
which is why these nations speak better English
than the English... don't take my word for it,
all the history teachers on a trip to Ypres said just
as much... so, let's imagine it differently...
there's a country in Africa by the word of Niger...
a republic more or less...
        how do i understand these two strands of politics?
a republic invokes a sense of
               wizened old men with enough experience
in life who know better, not necessarily seline,
just ready to make a wise decision...
a democracy? bunch of kids running around...
          experimenting with new ideas,
under the motto: what doesn't work, works anyway†;
whatever's faulty, to the majority will be deemed
faultless.
   †because it works for the majority:
it's just a case of quality control... as long as 99 of a 100
people agree, the 1 person involved will become
a burden, either by actually being a burden,
or being an antagonist.
   still... there's a stutter in the Polish language,
it's not exactly popular in wording,
lekki is one example - miękki is another,
meaning soft... it truly is a phenomenon in its own right...
    so where does Niger leave us?
  well, it leaves us encircled by Algeria,
     Libya, Mali, Chad, Nigeria, Benin and Burkina...
i'll post the non-stutter version: for the time is nigh
(yeah, soon, upon us) into the Kabbalistic corridor
    on the g-O-d clock... Egyptian propaganda from
forlorn yore... you sorta see the two interchanging...
or how i discovered that Hebrew hide vowels...
apart from the two Adams (א & ע) - ayin und aleφ...
central to a monotheistic practice of the hijab...
hiding women... obviously the other extreme
is what He'h-Zeus prescribed the gentile women of
the Roman and then later northern barbarian caste...
it was just a question of time before someone
would bypass the νεw τεσταμεντ
     and ask the right questions, and get the right
answers... and say: Malachi's heresy of polytheism
guised in the reincarnation of Elijah...
non-compatible with monotheism...
                                             one of each demanded example.
so like that Polish stutter in certain words...
  people will not even begin to conceive certain
arguments for the existence / non-existence of
     if their vocabulary is constantly scrutinised...
              head north of London and you'll find the
word vermin being ascribed to someone like me?
  what do i do? well i certainly don't create a media
frenzy... given that Niger is actually an African country...
      but it's said: nigh-ger              rather than
    knee-ger.       what's the big deal?
        it stems from Latin negrus, is that worse
than south papa africān blap? i'm going to start
saying that from now on: black blah, black blah
                                              blah blah blah:
yapping in yiddish - mouths that never breath
and yap and yap: ye'h ******, al' ma homies...
whatever that means... champagne at the ritz...
   hanging from a crystal chandelier....
must be French: char shade and chandelier,
                    sipping a shandy, chopping, shooting,
      chrome... the ****? where's the consistency?
  chromatic, chromosome, can you even begin
to comprehend what sort of memory bank you need
to have to learn an English accent?
  you have to remember all these beauty spots...
and all because English is a language that has
an aesthetic that rejected diacritical application...
   and ensured that enough monopoly on literacy
could be furthered in the modern age,
when a plumber is able to write his name,
    as an Earl of Gloucester might... which would
have been untrue 600 years ago.

i.

Woe unto thee O' man, making woman thine thrall, beating her, bruising her, O' how God dost see it all. Woe unto thee making innocent toy-***-slaves, build thy Bunker's in thine deep caves, for thy statues and idols wilt be moth-eaten, cankered; just as thy silver and gold.

ii.

Woe unto thee O' man, taking innocent soul's, young men fight and die, whilst dear mother's cry, look to the sky's; for the signs of Prophecy art awake, stay alert O' elite men for how the ground is soon to quake.

iii.

Woe unto thee O' man, blasting bomb's in foreign lands, making robots human, and robots men; how technology hast become thine own savior. But thou shan't be saved, just running away, as thy streets wilt fill with the blood to be spilt and crumbling skyscrapers.

iv.

Woe unto thee O' man, spraying chemicals in ourn midst, slowly murdering the innocent; whilst thou drinketh toddlers cruor to keep alive another day.

v.

Woe unto thee O' man, pushing deception on TV, media puppets thou doth feed, CIA infiltration with thy greed. O' soon thy airwaves wilt be shocking. Thy earth
Wilt mourn like cradles rocking,
Making Christmas not of the
Messiah but of stockings,
Filled with lust and
Filth.

vi.

Woe unto thee O' man, grab some stilts, walk highly with thy head in the clouds, as thou hath all pride and None shame.

vii.

Woe unto thee O' man, for thou knowest not pain, for what's coming to this sphere shalt make men's hearts fail them.

viii.

Woe unto thee O' man, judgements art coming as I shalt detail some thing's as
For me to thee I was sent. Quakes in high
Magnitude, an Antichrist and his false
Prophet, whom shalt rule for seven year's,
A mark of the beast (RFID chip) in the forehead and right hand, don't yet shed none tears yet for these things all were
Planned. A one world religion coming
Together as the false prophet wilt make,
The last 113th Pope is here, many lies
He gives and takes. Predicted by two
Saint Malachi's, of the last great deciever
Of the Church; he gathers all religions as the Bible dost sayest, so don't let thy feelings get hurt. All religions wilt gather, after the rapture of the church, the rapture is Jesus Christ rescuing his People, from the Antichrists coming scorch. As in the moment in the twinkling of an eye, believers in Jesus Christ like bird's wilt disappear and fly, high in the clouds to meet ourn Lord in the air, news channels wilt be reporting (MILLIONS PLUS MISSING) MANY NOT HERE!) The Antichrist is here now, he wilt soon (return) many will bow to an image made for him during the seven years of God's judgement that shalt be felt-heard. The Antichrist shalt hath anyone killed who doesn't worship his fatal image, for anyone whom takes his mark (RFID chip) wilt be eternally ****** for hells own wishes. Though Christ didst not come for to judge the world, but to save, the sinners, all humanity, were all sinner's on display. For Christ died on that cross, was mocked spat upon, beard ripped out, holes in wrists and feet, after his soul left his body the sun turned dark, the moon blood the Earth's shook for his own People killed gods son, the only name that gets thee to heaven; Yeshua hamashiach ( Jesus the Messiah) alpha, Omega, beginning and end. Life of living water, bread from heaven. He's always the same yesterday and today. As must I sayest to fireballs shalt come, and tsunamis so high people can't run. War wilt be nuclear as battles shalt rage in Israel, Christ came not for thy damnation as thou hath been taught, he came to save the soul. The Lord said ( I am the way truth and the life, no man cometh to the father God but by me,) that means only through Jesus, gods son, canst thou be free. Theres none other escape from these things coming to pass and things to be. Salvation was payed on that cross for thou and me. Now it's they own decision where thou Wilt spend eternity, a very real hell descibed in death and ourn gospels seen. Yet don't take mine word reader, thou canst try to ignore all the day, I just came to tell thee who died for thee, Yeshua (Jesus) his name. There's much more I couldst sayest but I'll leave thee with this, John 3:16,( For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.) He opens his arm's to thee O' reader, it's time to make thy choice, the morrow
Might not be here for thee, Christ offers
These words with his voice.

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poet's poetry

you know what two indicators of psychiatric diagnostic bases are?  whether or not you can keep eye-contact or chew your nails... frankly i  like the taste or keratin, it's like concentrated burnt skin, and that  eye-contact bit? i'm not here to ****** anyone, not keeping eye-contact  doesn't make me disengage from dialogue, it simply enhances it, after  all, i'm talking to your body, i don't have to peer into your soul.*

the hippocratic oath died with modern psychiatry,
it simply died, limp and almost lethargic
and riddled with leprosy (it’s peeling off me now, bit by bit),
the hippocratic oath died there and then,
the schism of the church from the state
enforced the secularisation of medicine
and medicine gave birth to its ******* offspring
known as psychiatry / logic of the non-existence
of the soul, better known as the missing
part of psychology...
the local g.p. analysis shows that i'm clearly
not biting my nails or have inefficient eye-contact
putting me on an autistic spectrum
with a feministic interpretation of aristotle,
but frankly i too could be a feminine candy
pusher for platonism in the **** sense of the word,
trying to convert a hetrosexual tyrant to keep
a few less digits of **** under my sleeve:
mythology - or the logic behind:
in a kingdom far far away... a long long time ago,
there's a logic to myth, meaning the timescale is
unimportant, but important with a debriefing
signalled by two words: it happened; but it's not
relatable these days.
it's a good thing english asylums closed their gates
at the beginning of the 20th century or mid-way,
english society subsequently changed into an asylum,
no fewer madmen among the mentally ill and those
in politics... the ratio is so equilibrate you wouldn't
even bet on a horse that ran a mile with the odds being
in its favour... me? *******? i'm fuming,
you want me to shoot blanks at whimsical prejudices
of a cancer patient because you were doing crosswords
looking at your genitelia and said: i'm a woman!
well, moist **** to you too... i'll make sure
the next pole that travels to england will get his money's
worth... watch me type like a chopin dynamo...
crescendo multo gratis!
that's the thing concerning the little red ribbon
wrapped around a box present in existentialism
it evolved from: phenomenology... it ignored kant...
it ignored the application of pluralism to kant's
concept of the thye noumenon...
subsequently it ignored rasputin (a.k.a. the superman)
on par with the great illiterate statues of history:
socrates, jesus, mohammad...
khadijah wrote the first of the surahs i bet...
she the litterate ***** must have known
he would decrease the volume of expression,
ending with a short surah like the heretical infestation
of malachi with the old testament.
*****! *****! give me *****! i want a snooker table too!
to the next of kin: don't come to england...
they're prone to the disease known as anglo-saxon / norman
lunacy... please don't come... or if you're coming
make it seasonal... and make it scarce -
bandit irish idiots just made a breakthough, quote un quote:
we multiply! no wonder the theory of relativity couples
people with confusion... newtonian logistics is missing,
the vector system is missing, cause and effect
is missing in relation to climate change - well **** happens,
our historical realism is not different from our
concensus... we all agreed... thanks to einstein there's
no cause & effect, because the compound space-time
vortex equates the two... we can sleep soundly tonight...
we've been saved by the geneva convention of albert camus'
absurdity... phenomena are universals because
of the attached number avaliable... noumenology
is scarce due to third arms and legs... a handful
is twelve disciples... in between the number of fingers
and toes... a handfull is between 10 and 20... that's a handful...
so if particulars deal with noumena... things unknown
or previously unknown or subsequently known because
of their david bowie oddity... then phenomena are concenred
with universal rhythms... i.e.... it can happen to an ant,
it can happen to a sparrow... it can happen to a human being...
it's the ideal economy of ideas just popping up whenever
you thing the singularity of god or the verb pronoun i is missing:
the noun pronoun, the thing that is freely ignoring things
due to their names and narrating geological abstractions?
yeah... that's still there.

I wonder if he knows why she didn’t get casted
Because life wanted her life to be stress free and fantastic
Everything she saw was just for her to have it
All she remembers is the beautiful part
Guess I’m good at forms of elimination but I am, me too, sweetheart
arms length no lateral image to dissolve this thoughtful way to heal us
even he has a mind of knowledge
I’m just described dimension deliverer
Bring me the brimming, full
Cup of lilacs last blind wind we have
Found the secret thunder to my lightning for Emily

i thought that Sunday would be the day that i'd save money and indulge in my insomnia, not drinking, but i have a triage appointment with my G.P. today between 12 and 5 p.m., so i'll not be synthesising sleep (quantum peek-ah-boo with ß in American with a zed - i.e. zed leppelin), never mind. you pick up obscurity as you go along with it; whatever becomes personal you depersonalise by abstracts, standard procedure when writing a chemistry experiment: abstract prior to explanation, in science abstracts are not exactly abstracts in humanism, they're merely prologues, or shorthand intros.

my writing addiction is worse than my alcohol addiction,
a hell-raiser in heaven...
****, i can end up penniless and broke on the street,
its my parents i'm worried about -
i do have a Muslim enemy - i buried it for 7 years
faking schizophrenia so i could be untouchable -
i can give you the name, i can give you a little biography,
i'm worth two coin flips a **** by my estimate,
i didn't fake insanity so i would get £120 a week on
debility payouts, now that would be mad...
i have to plan from time to time when i have to stop
drinking and synthesising sleep rather than going mad,
i was brought back to ensure my father didn't fall into
depression when one of my cousins undermined his
team of roofers stealing them, the "cousin"?
husband of my grand-uncle's daughter, technically my aunt,
undermined my father's self-employment strategy
employing Poles and Romanians - my father? taught
by Scots... old Jack the Guinness pouch puncher -
diesel running at 4 a.m., breakfast at 5 a.m.,
work is life... work is life... **** me! it's 2016
and the death of Prof. Dumbledore died today,
the movie was completed in 2009 - so obviously no spoiler
alert, 7 years the secret was hidden from my ear...
i only learned of it today... as i also learned...
premature depression in the youth of England -
second Marx and Engels are waiting... spring clean angelic
suggestions of how England invented unshakeable
utopia... WRONG! what do you think Marx and Engels
were doing? what do you think the problems are in England
right now? right now?! mental health.
the pride and prestige of English society is getting to me...
their under-reading of philosophy books -
what sort of damage can a thought experiment have on someone?!
none! getting all ******* pompous and Clancy will
not solve the matter - they don't like wording, or subsequent
excesses - they're importing nurses from India
and are mesmerised by the Japanese curse of karaoke -
England, the 51st ******* state - akin to the Penguin
cover of K. ****'s *man in the high castle,
you ain't pure just 'cos' you think you are!
i have a worse addiction than drinking... writing enlarges
the monster in me... you obstruct my hands from the
keyboard i turn into a monster, given brain damage
you can reason why i tend to need an ****** space of
recording something down - i need it more than alcohol,
without alcohol i just get bored, i don't live in
sparkly Paris for one, the nights around here are deafening...
one example? my father obstructed me recording a thought
(got i miss the expected ease of cognitive narration
i knew prior, and i loath the personality that resides in me
at present... i could have been such a good father)...
i get blocked on the stairs before i want to write the
waterfall, he grabs my index finger and dislodges it...
the rest is pure comedy... the paramedics come,
i compliment the male paramedic on his looks
(why am i so misogynistic by now? i used to idealise
women! n'ah, no point mulling this problem,
the answer is too obvious)... i go to the hospital...
i wait for an hour, pose for pictures with my dislocated
finger, have a laugh and a chat, walk up to a black
girl with some medical problem (the dislocated finger,
what a brilliant comedy gimmick) and introduce her to
Us3 on my knees - time to straighten my finger -
the doctor asks me how it happened -
i lie: i was in such a shock i don't remember,
i pursue the lie to effectiveness - i notice his name,
i was in a pub with a Hungarian barmaid and i asked
her the problem i was having, some psychiatrist with
the surname Szasz, an english speaker couldn't make
the z into a h to say... shash - so i tested this failure
on the barmaid on the doctor, Hungarian test 1.
said his name... asked... Hungarian? yes, he replied.
bingo! lie sealed, Malachi's prophecy came true.
later he obliged to send me the x-rays of my dislocated
finger to my email account... charm charm charm.
i'm a poo'h bear when drunk, strike a conversation
with me like this one Lithuanian girl did and i'll kiss
you from forehead to your chin and neck, kissing your
eyes shut... but get between me and the blank page?
not a good idea. i'm ******* scatter brained -
rarely i get the opportunity to relive the cognitive narration
fluidity i once had that inhibited me from writing anything,
and i mean anything apart from homework and exams.
also... the **'s debut album is a rarity... it's one of those
albums you can listen to without headphones -
listening to it on headphones is rather pointless -
it's perfectly pitched for a bedroom auditorium;
and not much music makes sense without headphones
these days; but i also wonder why not everyone is
addicted to music, and more to conversation via the epitome
of Radio 4's chatty chatty broken bloke.
Sunday newspaper book reviews as usual... no book of
poetry... oh hell, let's bring out the howitzers -
pop culture ignores poetry, poetry explodes in a culture,
many people are disaffected, congested into sardine phobias,
struck that some people remember the countryside life
and milking cows, small town life... the internet is in its
genesis, the middle-classes semi-proficient in the technology
are damning it with promises of a feasible exodus to
the promised land of the sitting-room couch and television,
no one is noticing the digital miners who are digging
for the perfect pixel - a polydiadem fly-eye;
but here i am, facing ridicule at the teachings of Jesus Christ,
hating him is sorta a fake, but it's more a fake at
either Christianity, or the unrelenting fictionalisation of
the man thanks to the Greeks, bemusement at the Star
of Bethlehem, the historian Josephus, and the fact that
that the Nag Hammadi library was found in Egypt and not
Israel... i'd be dumb to ignore the archaeological proofs
culminating with the crucifix and the atom bomb and the
pathology of predicting ends of worlds... Oppenheimer
was just as good, quoting the Sanskrit death bit -
i guess living in Egypt gave the little man of Nazareth
pharaonic ambitions of worship - easier and more convincing
on a crucifix than on a throne with sensible Greek
digestion of the world and fascination to boot -
hence the fascination to the last with architecture and
'my father's house will be a house of prayer',
seen the state of the Anglican Church? and see how mundane
the prayer service has become after 2000 years?
everywhere, now, countless religions are sprouting like
spring ginger using psychedelics and what not...
well, that was the case in the 20th century... the 21st century's
answer is this dark age reinterpretation of Cartesian
philosophy... not so airy-*******-fairy about philosophy
books, are we? philosophers prescribe no drugs, merely
thoughts... what you would probably have not thought out...
harmless pharmacology if you're into claustrophobic
suicide pacts with yourself... the 21st century has proved
another breeding ground in England, this time not economic...
and if not economic, therefore existential...
i'm just another Engels looking for his Marx... or another
Marx looking for his Engels. ah, the cascade ends.

Gabrielle Union wore a gorgeous fall look in New York City while promoting her show, Being Mary Jane, on Tuesday.

The 42-year-old looked like a vision in her fitted white Sophia Kah dress with crimson lace overlay, as she was spotted leaving Live With Kelly and Michael.

The short-sleeved frock featured intricate detailing on the upper portion, while the bottom half was all white.

The skintight dress, which showed off the Think Like a Man star's amazing body, fit her like a glove.

The pop of color from the wine-colored lace added a bold touch to an otherwise minimal look.

The Bring It On actress kept the bold vibes going by choosing shiny gold heels, which added a new dimension to the look.

She added gold rings to compliment her similarly hued strappy heels with gray polished nails.

The Being Mary Jane star wore her shoulder length dark hair loose and wavy.

Opting for a more vampy makeup look, the starlet wore smokey eye shadow, glossy red lips and rosy cheeks.

During her appearance on the morning show, the She's All That actress wore a more understated look, rocking gray slacks, a black top and bright pink heels as she spoke to Michael Strahan and guest host Ciara, who filled in for Kelly Ripa.

The brunette is married to NBA star Dwayne Wade, who plays for the Miami Heat. The couple first met in 2009 and married in August 2014.

Her husband has three sons: 13-year-old Zaire Blessing Dwayne, eight-year-old Zion Malachi Airamis and two-year-old Xavier Zechariah, from previous relationships.

The 33-year-old athlete also raises his 13-year-old nephew Dahveon.

On her show, she plays the character Mary Jane Paul, an on-camera reporter who has to juggle work, love and family.

The third season of Being Mary Jane premieres on October 20th on BET.

The starlet is also currently filming The Lion Guard, an animated TV series where she voices the character of Nala, set to premiere on the Disney Channel in 2016. She recently wrapped The Lion Guard: Return of the Roar TV movie, which premieres this November.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/****-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/vintage-formal-dresses

asleep
only acknowledged when awake
trapped
seems so easy once above
the labyrinth
of physicality
illusory creations
of geometric energy.
Lost
in the wired perception of reality
forgetting
that all was taught was taught by teachers
teaching what was taught to them
not knowing the alteration
and miscommunication
developing over the generations.

only reactions
that is what defines me
how I respond
in certain situations
how I speak and spew
opinions I heard elsewhere
plagiarizing  ideas
that never really belonged to anyone

I, me, the abstract concept of "Malachi"
is an
algorithm!
a mathematical program designed to optimize relations
with continuity to any situation provided

I, concept
sleep soundly in my dream
hating, complaining, idealizing
while all opportunities
pushed my way
are ignored

for I slumber

I gave my freedom long ago
to become an automated machine
a complex voice-mail

an entity who never picks up the phone
never responding consciously

trapped in the spell of samsara
identifying with the machine

lost in the maze
no guaranteed escape

even though the exit is under my nose

listening to the radio is far less melancholy than you might think, sure, the adverts are there, and you can't skip them or hush them like you can on the internet and on-demand t.v., but it doesn't bother me, i sometimes like to take a break from being my own d.j., because as my own d.j. i tend to choose music that's perfect for writing, for honing in on the sizeable bite of verbiage, sometimes distinguished by a touch of a magician's wand. plus i surprises are better than presents - i stopped celebrating all the orthodox occasions in the calendar - i forgot my birthday, christmas = pyjamas and movies, Easter outside the Catholic / Orthodox realm is a bit silly... rabbit testicles... the greatest profanity, Protestantism has its weak spot... coupled with championing capitalism, Easter has no surprises, given the most celebrated act of the man who lived when Spartacus burped and Ben Hur farted... (cat just started his opera when i wrote this, just treat it as an odd thing, remembering the dead and still famous in cinema adaptation)... but you seriously can't imagine Easter in England... chocolate *****, Christianity has become a joke, it hasn't died out, it has just become a joke... what with Elijah becoming a saint rather than a prophet, what with the Archangel Michael also becoming a saint... you'd start thinking: this is getting ridiculous with hen parties and fairy wands, plastic wings and ******* in the alley... the disrespect people have for Easter and over-powering the celebration of Christmas just shows the weakness... a sly incursion into a penitence for the Inquisition... comfortable chairs in churches across America... like i said, a joke. Islam is heading the same way, the failings of these two monotheisms is bound to (as i mentioned already) the incorporation of a polytheistic concept of polytheism bound to the last book before the fiasco, Malachi's promise of a return of Elijah, to turn the son's heart unto his father's, antonym too with the women; well, i have to take this text seriously, i hate ridiculing them, the 20th century's antidote to explaining why the Holocaust wasn't averted by some big brother - i live in England, i'm used to c.c.t.v. voyeurism, i don't understand why a theological c.c.t.v. is so ****** complicated - usually argued by the person with his hand in a cookie jar... why should anyone else be worried? don't worry, i'm not digressing, there's a reason why i added an emphasis title to the first of a sequence of my experiment (where i stop being my own d.j.).

my father left for England when i was 4,
i do have a vague memory of 1990 -
most notably my mother waking up late
and in his words: wake the baroness,
lothar matthaus (1990 world cup) -
carrying a table for the kitchen with him -
meeting his grandmother that raised him
being the oddest experience -
(yeah, he was an unwanted child,
raised by his grandparents,
the shame stories of his drinking father living
near him but taking no interest,
his mother moving to Silesia) -
so from a presence aged 4 to being 8
he was simply a voice on the telephone
and a pack of presents once in a while -
my mother left to join him when i was 6 -
before she left she bought me a dog,
a doberman pinscher - called him Axel
(after Axl Rose) - after that i got a taste
of my father's childhood, i.e. being raised
by my grandparents - driving an industrial
buggy on the steel plant complex,
taking a shower in the bathrooms -
my grandfather was an alcoholic... now i'm
a post-stoner alcoholic... so i don't have any
horror story to name and shame someone,
it doesn't matter, once i walked my grandfather
from his mother's house on her birthday,
he got the woman's wrath from my grandmother
and my mother, but i sure as **** walked him home;
just stating the obvious, not all poets are
fluffy heart frail, some of us learn to live.
so when i arrived in England aged 8 at the Victoria
Coach Station i didn't quiet know what to do
hugging my father... a complete stranger
(early development is not the development of
adults used to the mundane hamster wheels
of countless Mondays and Fridays and nights out) -
my memory of learning English in primary school
from scratch? i can't tell you anything detailed -
what i can tell you is that Jurassic Park came out
that year and i really wanted to see it after
becoming a fan of the Japanese versions of Godzilla,
my favourite? *Ghidorah, the Three-Headed Monster.
and Lion King was out too... each day after coming
back from primary school (fond memories,
like taking pictures of Pamela Anderson from
a newsagent that were given out for free into
the schoolyard and distributing them, getting ratted
out given the shame-mantra by the headmaster:
what would you say if this was your mother?
Christianity is perfect by shaming you first, then
supposedly redeeming you, their own vice fruit
and that ******* crucifix. the game of bulldog
the meals, Ribena, choc cake with custard,
drawing Ophelia drowning for a school exhibition...
the devil mask bought at Warsaw and worn at
a dance ball, having it worn by all too eager friends
one by one... the list is endless - as ever, memory,
the best cinema in town) - so each day after coming
back from primary school i'd watch the Lion King
religiously... even my mother was bothered,
after two weeks if not more she complained to me
with concerns as if i were autistic or something -
why was i watching it? think about it... from the age
of 4 to the age of 8 i hadn't seen my father -
but you know that famous scene when Scar betrays
Mufasa and throws him to his death in the stampede?
pivotal moment for my psychic life to catch-up
with having a father - using the fear of loss in bright
colours kinda illuminated the dull realities around me -
intuitive masterminding what many people will take
for a standard family life - obviously i stopped the Lion
King after i saturated enough feeling for a person
i didn't develop around aged 4 till 8... which might
explain my resorting to alcoholism... but i'm not bothered,
i don't feel like starting a family, plus alcohol
sedates and makes writing more uninhibited (show me
a writer who didn't drink and i'll find you a bored
reader and unfinished books, that's the point of the
anti-haiku concept of ensō - i'm counting on it:
written without effort, should, technically be read without
effort), and never mind that ****** focal point in
my life that's not at all interesting aged 21 and thus
what happened after; that's me, automaton -
rebellious against being grilled down to:
an Englishman's house is his... cave... Darwinism take
on history will continue to be my pet peeve -
it just erases so many advances we've had down the centuries,
plus for every humanism alive... it must be kinda boring -
no... i'm not ensuring Darwinism is sparring in a boxing
ring with theology - from human to human -
that new program on channel 4 (naked attraction)
looks a bit like a trip to the butchers - and however you think
about it... the date after still looks ******* awkward,
so the ******* doesn't really help, the situation between
the pair is still like rubbing sandpaper on your face:
you're not showing a rouge of minor shame and inhibition...
you've just been basically *****-slapped silly.

St. John, the Evangelist, wrote the book of revelations,
the Latin world immediately thought
it was aimed at the Hebrew,
but the masochistic lacerations of the Jews
left intact, hardly slave-worthy, hardly imaginative
to build a Coliseum, instead worthy of
the hanging garden of Iran and the pyramids..
skyscrapers of Manhattan with only one room in
it, and some ***** trap passages to reach the riches,
like at Giza, when one hoped that one
sand people left the Koran for another sand people,
an it was all Brothers Grimm fairy ending: happily
ever after... the book of revelation
chapter 13 verse 3... how did i survive a brain
haemorrhage and revive a fully functioning
skeleton so quick? ask Rasputin,
no, i'm pretty sure Rasputin would care to mention
the poisoned *****... level the bastion square of
former William conquering, the Bastille echoed in
history like a footprint of a peasant standing ground
to what became downfall, and subsequent harvest...
an Austrian woman undermined a shy man
by giving out metaphors of cake...
she understood less when lionel logue was
worth that banknote of cinematic endeavour...
Stephen "shaky" Parkinson ploughed the lot...
saints like rats i close numbering,
one atheist attacked the woman of Calcutta,
another atheist attacked the man of Wadowice...
i would like to think that prior nationalism of
my forefathers meant something, in the least
ensuring i stay in the lands of potato and *****...
i was given the chasm of childhood's decision
having not clear basis for rationality,
as necessarily escaping what i wished eternity to be:
a bike ride of 60 kilometres in summer,
and hardly anyone wishing to diffuse my balances...
poetry is a cryptology, once it encounters symbolism
of sedated phonetics it comes across philosophy pausing
at Egyptology... the triage, tri, angle, primed 90
heading toward the crown or a rebirth of not acknowledging
the prime leisure of caesarian and reinserting the head
to wobble into the longest Nile of cluing divisions
as based on lost imagination: science has simply evaporated
chances of imagination - scientific imagination is reduced
to schematics - concrete arithmetic procedures
and paying attention to nothing while playing games
hardly resembling the japanese square and the karaoke culture
readying only teens to buy the crap...
imagine being an adult easily paying rent,
having a marriage, a dual life as a homosexual e.g.,
having left school, and mastered life with fancies
to be later equivalent of a G.C.S.E. grade in your personal life...
the book of revelation does not address the Hebrews:
written by Greeks, it was written for Byzantium,
that the Arabs clarified Aristotle sooner than Byzantium
is this obsession with bureaucracy - st. john
was also a mr. smithy joe-joe... the greeks lost the plot,
the book of revelation addresses greek naiveness,
it doesn't address Hebrew stubbornness,
given that: every greek would nod to avoid being
member of the Holocaust, while every Hebrew would
nod to engage being member of the Holocaust...
but still the Polish question... who were given neither
reparations by Germans, nor were included in the
Marshall Plan... but were given a "de facto" system
of economics that was "bound to fail", you'd need
one Pole to be a pope, to be later a saint for this to be real,
for the great dispersion... ever see a Polish girl get spat
on her face by her "master" dutch boyfriend when
speaking civilised tongue about her ambitions?
GERMANY WELCOMES SYRIA... that's Poland's
care for receiving reparations from Nazis, point no. 1.
point no. 2, Israel is mentioned in Eurovision
and in the European football championship...
oh come on... get comfy in your promised land!
the irony is that Australia is contesting a voice from too!
a torn apart revival? it's hardly a revival if the
lettering didn't disappear and wasn't replaced by arabic,
thank us for your allowance of earning money,
digitalising us, toward a perpetual analysis without
care to synthesise anything unusual that wasn't already
unusually analysed to this needle-point of
a unit of tsunami synthesis - comparably a year denied,
zeroed, convergence of the algebraic trinity with
all three unknowns: x, y, z - the book of revelation addresses
the foolery of the greeks, so much wisdom prior,
and yet so much foolery and laziness kindred to
the holy text of the hebrews under the prophet's name
Malachi... Muhammad has the leverage, being
a prophet-merchant, rather than a prophet-pauper -
bogatemu wszystko wolno.

i still believe that φ (phi) and θ (theta) used to be a grapheme, akin to the Trojan / Roman æ, cf. Virgil's the Æneid, then too a γraφeme in german: ß, not necessarily scharfes, but rutschig s... a slippery s... s the marijuana fiend all hippy and ****, then the z, using Beat vocabulary slang, the suited and booted for either war or the office environment □ (square)... i still believe φθ used to be a grapheme... separated at birth... as with V so too Φ and Θ have the prime incisors' touch the bottom lip to be said, honestly, the bottom lip makes more bone-interactions than the upper-lip; criticism is a type of medicine, you either take it... or bite the bullet. but hear a German utter the disparity: noticeable given Rammstein: ich v. sachen: i.e. ich (-sh) v. sashen or simply sahen - maybe learning Yiddish would help - the error, apart from the Malachi introduction of polytheism with two Elijahs? well, i helped you once, i won't help you again, one proof means no repetition, boorish Moses dragged from high status and belief in a birthright to garbage, from the right-hand of the Pharaoh that Joseph was, to the lowly pits of bricklayers - English bricklayers are 'appy, indeed the Grecian dispute over the surd Ηη (eta), on a hunch... hitch-hiking letter - Hitchens attacked mother Teresa, i attacked John Paul the soocoond... a Turk with grievances illuminated the story further... pope forgave the ****** in a prison cell, once law was enforced, the mighty confusion between sins (perversions) and outright bookmaker's testimony concerning the gambling of laws. i still believe φθ used to be a grapheme... look toward languages that instil the pressures of tongue-tying-tornadoes... if it weren't the grapheme ß, i'd say it was a dance between s und zee, in that the tango was danced, and the mantis convened its presence with alimony or other tactics for the hangman to fidget on the noose; obviously as confusing as to place Backgammon alphabetically coerced with ßimilarity.

poetry hasn't been altogether banished from
the republic - i concede that poetry is
best written in a frenzy - drunk - intoxicated
with whatever is deemed necessary,
prior to the battle of Hastings (1066), Harold's
army drank and drank and drank -
berserker alternative to *****? mushrooms -
so if no battle, no vain hope to compete
with Achilles - then in poetry too, phantoms
in white, cutting and bruising with every word
emerge - a solemn pledge to the art.
well, poetry hasn't been totally banished,
it's an undercurrent - manoeuvring tactic
of intelligent argument - so many poetic techniques
are used when one suddenly appears ridiculous,
sooner or later people fall back on metaphor,
with such sly excuses: oh, not really, metaphorically
speaking - oh but that's just imagery - etc. etc.
poetry is kept, precious in every circumstance in
the **** sapiens brain - to keep appearances -
to sober up - oddly enough - poetry as a method
to sober up from a frenzy of rhetoric - the 'not really'
of things that pass - it's the usefulness of disguise,
the ridiculous and pompous can suddenly take
on priestly demur - suddenly any traces of religiosity
disintegrate, and a cold and hardened heart emerges
with crystalline belief in the ruler, the protractor
and all manners of *the sensibility of science,
anything not humbled by science is deemed childish...
chillingly this childishness is also the childishness
waving a machete or firing a Kalashnikov - oh how
childish it becomes - the ***** to take someone's life...
great disputes in heaven, about four angels are
pop, Gabriel, Michael, Raphael and Satan -
total pop culture up there - anyway, it's not the glorification
of science is fairing well, to glorify science while
being a pauper with a limited scientific vocabulary is
already entrenched, so much so that the proof is there
regarding what's happening in western societies -
to create a universal vocabulary - a tactful one,
a vocabulary that does not impress because it does not
offend - a silk vocabulary, scientifically speaking
a smooth vocabulary, perfected to be pitched so that
the overall un-offended apathy of the listener is kept,
gay is out, homosexual is in, god forbid you mention
the word pederast or simply **** - god forbid,
bite your nails, say your mea culpa prior to jumping
into bed and all is well on the western front -
it's a revolution, didn't you hear? they say iron chains
i say liquorice tangles that can be eaten through -
apologies if your palette is not suited to the particular
Anise; but a revolution nonetheless - how did we get
to the point of trying to limit other people's vocabulary?
but of course certain words contain certain emotions,
better feel dread and disgust than an emotional flatline
with no emotion present. regarding pop culture
in heaven, ever hear the names: zehpanuryay,
abirzehyay, atarigiash, nagarniel, anpiel, naazuriel,
sastiel? you probably haven't - but it's not like you'd
keep names such as: the family of amine-boranes,
ammonia-carboxyborane, tamoxifen, paraaldehyde,
dihydropyran, polyester / dacron / mylar made from
dimethyl tereφθalate and ethylene glycol...
so what's more ridiculous? funny enough, the only
remaining aspect of the English language retaining
its roots in Saxony is expressed in chemistry,
the obvious lack of hyphen usage - chemistry is the
only revealing essence of English as having origins
in German, the excessive compounding of words,
chemical nouns that require a breathing technique
and a good optical scalpel to pronounce them -
as is well known, Germans don't believe in keeping
shrapnel, they see wordy shrapnel they get the grammatical
kiln out and melt everything together, e.g.
staatlichverantwortung (duty to the state, civic duty),
only in chemistry is the German a thick block of writing,
elsewhere it's aquatic or even gaseous - one
word jokes: Richard - ****... Mr. W. Kerr - Wayne.

Fast food and motel signs floating in blackness
To illuminate the night sky like child’s stickers
Plastered onto parent’s precious painting
Decorate the mighty treadmill we used
To exercise vehicular endurance and find
How many times can we note the golden arches
We traded hours of sleep to reach the city
Of a singing Mormon’s dream
He was only on a billboard for a week or so
You’re as warm as the city with twice the life
Making plans for another before we reach
Our trial home happy and tidy

Now where’s the one who’s seen the world
But still wants to be in mine?
In my lap on a couch in her living room
(I could go on to fill a children’s book
Like the lady who swallowed a frog)
Now she exists everywhere, my Malachi Constant
Who makes it okay I’ll never swim on Saturn
I like the way the green light illuminates my face
When I’m on my way home to see her at night

To be rebuilt, to be restored, to re-establish broken walls

Of former gates now rising up, to them that will rejoice

On assignment from the palace

Nehemiah of noble rank

With zest and zealous zeal

A great work to begin, relinquish finding fault

Continue the consigned course, even if by force

A purposeful quest, yet enemies seek to oppress

Chosen people of Jerusalem

Their aim to hinder

To turn our plans to cinders, of ruin again

Aside from jeers and jokes, we evoke the passion inside

From such a purpose as this

For Nehemiah here to rebuild, not to rebel

To hear of enemies plans, such work began

Armed hands of spears and swords

Guarding watchmen day and night, to then distract, a covert act

To call him away, an unprincipled trip, good intentions not

Yet passing times, forward seasons

Gave no reason, for continued up-rise

No scheme or lies, could dissolve desire

Nor cause delay

Gathered rules, with listening intent

Help the people, re-join and restore customs, not law

Promising years, place heathen aside, do not idolise

A Saviour will return

The writings of Malachi

A faithful prophet, of faithful words



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©

Good morning, God.
I'm here to serve your will.
What plans must I expect, from you?

Who's in need, of the good news?
Is it the minister?
Who seems confused on the scriptures?
As he preach to the congregation.

Well, that would be hard because they the teachers.
And, I hadn't see one yet willing to admit they need help.

Is it the sinner?
Who can make some saints see a different view?

But, that's a good sign when someone challenge you.
We must now the word to spread the word.
But be willing to accept others might know a little bit more.

I have always ponder the minister's that question the thelogian teacher.
Who educated them on things within the holy book?
And once they get assigned to preach than they offering us their own personal word.

We hear constantly on, how we're robbing God in Malachi?
But getting people to accept that ten percent of their earning goes to the Lord many just don't buy.

They state it's like buying the word.
When Jesus stated go out and spread the word.
Not once did he say for money.
Of course don't turn  it down if it put a person's on solid ground.

The church isn't  made because of a foundation.
Don't matter what anyone say?
It made because of the people.
Who constantly continue to pray?

The Word was hear long before a building was form.
And, if it gets destroyed the Word will be here.
Even after the ruins.

Good morning ,God.
I didn't mean to preach.
I just wanted your opinion on my sermonize speech.

So, please forgive me lord.
If my comments stepped on a few people feet.

Adam
The unborn human
Made of soil by the Lord
For to rule the world.

2. Eve

Made of Adam’s rib
To live and serve with her mate
But fallen to sin.

3. Disobedience

The act against God
Inclined to the devil’s word
Unbelief in God.

4. Nakedness of Adam and Eve

Disgraced by their sin
Saturated in the fruit
Stripped of holiness.


5. The Garden of Eden

The place of God’s land
Of freedom and temptation
Of good and evil.

6. Satan in Serpent

The one arch rival
Of God, fallen of his pride,
Intruded to rob.

7. The Fruit of knowledge of Good and Evil

A mystery image
Made of God to try His man;
The logic of God.

8. The first parents’ punishment

Drifted from God’s Peace;
Fallen into Satan’s trap;
Of sorrows and death.

9. Abel

A righteous God’s son,
And born to be slain by Cain;
Innocence perceived.

10. Cain

A tool of evil
Shrouded with disgrace and shame;
The root of evil.

11. Noah and the Ark

God’s righteous man
Saved by his obedience
By the Grace of God.

12. The Flood

The Judgment of God
Fallen upon sins;
A great symbol of new life

13. Babel Tower

The evil image,
A symbol of human pride,
Conquered by Wisdom.

14. Abraham

God’s chosen human;
A father of great nations;
The faith understood.

15. Sarah

A blessed mother;
Blessed with Isaac in late age;
Abraham’s true heart.

16. Ishmael

A son of Abram
Born of Hagar by force;
Displeasure of God.

17. ***** and Gomorrah

The twins of evil,
Cradled by Satan with filth;
Burnt into ashes

18. Lot’s wife

An image of greed;
Ruled by the worldly desire;
A pillar of salt!

19. Isaac

The bond of Lord God
With Abraham for the race;
Faith tested in him.

20. Rebekah

Born to Bethuel
Full of generosity,
Mother of Jacob.

21. Jacob

Power and grace of God
Meant for cunning and deceit;
Yet blessed with Israel.

22. Rachel

A wife of Jacob;
Favourite and pleasing; mother
Of new progeny.

23. Aaron

A high-priest of God;
Elder brother of Moses,
A prophet of God.

24. Andrew

Yea, an apostle of Christ,
Brother of Simon Peter,
Living with the fish.


25. Barabbas

A condemned robber,
A convict praised by the Jews,
Thoughtless of the good.

26. Daniel

A man of visions;
Hero in the Lion’s den,
Unharmed by God’s Hand.

27. David

The psalmist of God,
The second king of Israel,
Guided by the Lord.

28. Samson and Delilah

A fool with muscle
Deprived by an evil force,
Fallen to blind death.

Scheming pretty ***,
Tainted with treachery,
Realm of sedition.

29. Elijah

A Hebrew prophet,
Persecuted for slurring
Ahab and Jez’bel.

30. Elisha

A great successor
Of Elijah, a prophet,
A stern disciple.


31. Enoch

The son of Jared,
Prior to Noah’s Great Flood,
Taken by the Lord.

32. Joseph

Sold to slavery
By his own jealous brothers,
The great vizier.


33. Esau

The twin of Jacob,
Sold his birthright to Jacob,
A son of Isaac.

34. Esther

Beauty embodied,
Then turned a queen of Persia,
Saviour of people.

35. Ezekiel
His book of visions
Predicts the fall of Judah
And Jerusalem.

36. Ezra

Ancient Jewish priest,
Law-maker at the altar,
Sent from Babylon.

37. Gideon

A wise Hebrew judge;
Led the Israel to victory
‘Gainst  Midianites.


38. Goliath

Philistine giant
Killed by David with a stone,
Terror to Hebrews.

39. Jesus Christ

He’s the Word of God,
The Way to Eternity,
God in human flesh.

40. John the Baptist

Forerunner of Christ,
Beheaded by King Herod,
Baptizer of Christ.

41. Judas Iscariot

Betrayer of Christ,
Fallen on thirty pieces
Silver to death.



42. Lazarus

Restored from death
By Jesus; for whom Christ wept,
Mary and Martha’s.

43. Lot

Abraham’s nephew;
Escaped *****’s destruction,
His wife, salt pillar.

44. Luke

An Evangelist,
A physician, who wrote Acts
And Jesus’ Gospel.

45. Mary Magdalene

A sinful woman,
Redeemed of evil spirits,
Devoted to Christ.

46. Matthew

A tax collector,
An apostle of Jesus,
A Gospel writer.

46. Matthias
A Christ’s Apostle,
Chosen by lot to replace
The Christ’s betrayer.

47. Melchizedek  

The priest of Salem,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ’s priesthood of God.

48. Moses

A Hebrew prophet,
Who had led the Israelites
To the Promised Land.


49. Nebuchadnezzar  

King of Babylon,
Who  destroyed Jerusalem;
Exiled the Jews.



50.  Paul

A Christ’s Apostle,
Died as a martyr in Rome;
Wrote great Epistles.

51 Peter

One who left fishing
For Christ as an Apostle,
Denied Christ three times.

52. Pontius Pilate

“What is Truth?” He asked.
The Roman procurator,
His hand in Christ’s death.

53. Solomon

The king of Israel,
Credited with great wisdom,
Son of David.

54. Susanna

The wife of Joachim,
Falsely accused but saved by
Daniel's wisdom.

55. Tetragrammaton

Hebrew Name for God;
Revealed to Moses on Mount
Sinai. Named ‘Yahweh’.

56. Mary

The worldly mother
Of Jesus who fostered Him
Till His death of Cross.

57. Ten Commandments

The law for the Jews
Carved on the stone, and rendered
Through Moses for them.

58. David’s sling

God’s Power hidden,
“Gainst the evil Goliath,
A sign of victory.



59. The Great Flood

The Lord’s Great wrath ‘gainst sins,,
The fair judgment of the Lord
For a new era.

60. Noah’s Ark

God’s Shelter on earth,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ for salvation.

61. Pillar of Salt

Symbol of man’s greed,
Lot’s wife, the victim of greed,
Wrath of human sin.

62. Plagues of Egypt

Curses of the Lord
Upon the sins of Israel,
Lesson to the world.

63. Solomon’s Wisdom

Incomparable
Gift of God to Solomon,
And none on earth has.

64. Psalms

Heartfelt songs to God,
Joy and distressed flow from heart,
Musical prayers.

65. Ecclesiastes

Truth of Vanities,
Preaching the short span of life,
And to fear the Lord.

66. Proverbs

Wise sayings of God,
Hidden truth of life in short,
All quotable quotes

67. Genesis

In the beginning,
Record of God’s creation
And of great nations.



68. Exodus

Israelites’ freedom
From slavery in Egypt;
The book of journey.

69. Leviticus

Book on rituals,
Traditions and practices
Led to the altar.

70. Numbers

The culmination
Of the life of Israelites’
Flight from the *******.

71. Deuteronomy

Drifting of Israel
In wilderness forty years,
And of Moses’ death.

72. Joshua

Conquest of Canaan,
Campaigns of the Israelites,
Forming of twelve tribes.

73. Judges

Unfaithful Israel
Fallen into punishment,
Cycle of sins ran.

74. Ruth

Ruth accepting God,
Israelites as her own folks,
Liturgical book.


75. I & II Samuel

Forming theology,
God’s Law given through prophets,
Based on Jewish life.

76. I & II Kings

History of Israel
From the death of King David
To Jehoiachin’s aid.


77. I & II Chronicles

Genealogy
From Adam. A narrative
Till Cyrus the Great.

78. Ezra

The first arrival
Of exiles during Cyrus,
About unique Jews.

79. Nehemiah

Firmness to restore
Jerusalem. Appointed
Judah’s Governor.

80. Esther

The queen of Persia;
Upset of the genocide
Of her own people.

81. Job

The vindication
Of God’s justice for man’s woes,
A theology.

82. Song of Solomon

Celebrating
****** love and enjoyment;
****** passion.

83. Isaiah

Jerusalem be
The centre of worldwide rule
By the Messiah.

84. Jeremiah

Message to the Jews
In exile in Babylon,
For their idol gods.

85. Lamentations

Grief o’er the city’s
Desertion; return to God,
A funeral dirge.



86. Ezekiel

Visions on three themes:
Judgment on Israel; nations,
Blessings for Israel.

87. Daniel

End time portrayal,
Visions and message of God
That He is just God.

88. Hosea

Slur at idol gods,
A metaphorical note:
Israel’s faithlessness.

89. Joel

Great Lamentations
Over locust plague and drought,
Call for repentance.

90. Amos

A short oracle
Announcing God’s great judgment,
Disgrace of great crimes.

91. Sin

The passage to death,
The arch enemy of God,
In various forms.  

92. Judas’ Betrayal

It is Judas’ Kiss,
God’s plan destined for Christ’s death,
Closeness defeated.

93. Peter’s Denial

Human fear of man,
Mortal bond ‘gainst Jesus’ Way,
Winning cowardice.

94. I AM

The Name of Lord God,
The Everlasting Father,
Holiness in Christ.



95. Grace

The unmerited
Divine aid to human life
For their saintly life.  

96. Mercy

The compassionate
Forbearance shown to the crooks
For their repentance.

97. Gratitude

Of being thankful;
Readiness to love others,
A virtuous act.

98. Repentance

Sorry for one’s crimes,
The divine change from one’s sins,
Pow’r of salvation.

99. Patience

The power of courage,
Tolerance of incitement
With no annoyance.

100. Truth

The Lord Jesus Christ,
The Way to Eternity,
Christ’s Second Coming.

101. Obadiah

An oracle of
Edom’s divine judgment note,
Restore of Israel.

102. Jonah

Swallowed by a fish,
Drifted from God’s commandment,
And then repented.

103. Micah

Jerusalem’s ruin
Predicted; Judah rebuked
For its idol gods.



104. Nahum

Assyrian’s end
Predicted, and Nineveh,
Poetical style.

105. Habakkuk

Five oracles of
Chaldeans rise to power,
Might be a Levi.

106. Zephaniah

Warnings of the Day
Of the Lord with His Judgment
Upon the sinful.


107. Haggai

Rebuilding temple
Greatly to strike poverty
In Jerusalem.

108. Malachi

Of second return
Of prophet Nehemiah
From Persia long time.

109. Mark

Of Jesus’ mission,
Sketch of Christ as a Hero,
A Gospel writer.

110. Luke

An Evangelist;
Doctor who wrote the Gospel,
Might have written Acts.

111. John

Disciple Christ loved,
Revealed Christ, the Word of God,
And Jesus’ mystery.

112. Acts

Birth of Christian Church,
Christ for the Gentiles also,
Luke might be author.


113. Romans

Pauline Epistle
Of salvation through Gospel,
The Church growth in Rome.

114. I & II Corinthians

Rebuking Corinth
Of their infamous life-style,
Paul, a firm preacher.

115. Galatians

The controversy
With the gentiles o’er Moses’
Law for salvation.

116. Ephesians

Keeping Christ’s Body
Pure and holy –that’s the theme,
Paul’s fervent preaching.

117. Philippians

‘Thank You’ note from Paul,
Epaphroditus’ fortunes,
Canonical note.

118. Colossians

Christ’s supremacy
Over the whole universe,
Godly life to lead.

119. I & II Thessalonians

Firm preaching of Christ,
Salvation only in Christ,
All must be redeemed.

120. I & II Timothy

Leadership in Church,
Warnings against false doctrines,
The roles of women.

121. Titus

Unruly false teachers,
Who led people towards death,
A scathing attack.



122. Philemon

Self-designation
As a prisoner of Jesus,
Prayerful request.

123. Hebrews

Christ, the Radiance of God’s
Glory; the Express Image,
Upholding all things.

124. James

Patience in trials,
Christians to overcome sins,
Consistent in Christ.

125. I & II Peter

Steadfastness in faith,
Christian virtues exalted,
False teachers condemned.

126. I, II & III John

Fellowship with God,
Not to lose learnt of Jesus,
Hospitality.

127. Jude

Quotes from the ancient,
Admonishes all to live
In Christ forever.

128. Revelation

Obscure images,
Spiritual images,
Symbolic fable.

129. The star from the East

Christ for the Gentiles,
Salvation for everyone,
The world needs a guide.

130. The Magi

Christ, the King of kings,
All shall bow before the Christ,
The Greatest Ruler.



131. The shepherds

God shall not forget
Even the common people,
Pastoral image.

132. The Manger

Christ’s humility,
A virtue of a leader,
Proven example.

133. Mary and Joseph

The Lord’s chosen womb,
And the chosen guardian
Of the Divine Babe.

134. Scourges upon Christ

Sins of the mankind,
The obedience of man
To satanic law.

135. Crown of Thorns

Pleasures of the world
At the cost of Divine Love,
Unholy worship.

136. Crucifixion

The old law been sealed,
The Law of Love to open,
The sin on the Cross.

137. “Why hast Thee forsaken Me?”

Sin separated
Man from God. Great agony
Without holy God.

138. The Garden of Gethsemane

A communion
Betwixt Christ and the Father,
Blood of agony.

139. Miracles of Jesus Christ

The Power of God
Manifested upon Christ
That the world knows HIM>



140. The Early Days of Jesus

A preparation
For the Divine Ministry
That man follows HIM.

141. Jesus’ First Coming

The Way born for man
Unto God the Eternal,
Of Mercy and Love.

142. Christ’s Second Coming

End of human life,
Christ the Judge to curse sinners,
Steadfast in HIS Plan.

143. Jesus’ Resurrection

Death has lost its sting,
The arch foe of God defeated,
Mankind begets Hope.

144. The Pentecost

The Spirit of God
Descended upon people
To proclaim the Word.

145. Atheist

The terrible phase
Of mankind which rejects God,
Shrouded with darkness.

146. Disbelief in Christ

Shrouded with glamour,
Lover of Death forever,
Sipping sweet poison.

147. Idol Worship

Brutal devotion,
Acrobatic somersaults,
Towards the Chasm.

148. Temptation

Sugar-coated trap,
Poison in enticing fruit,
A sweet hug to fall.



149. A soul between good and evil

Between Life and Death,
Walking on a strip of thread,
A sword on one’s throat.

150. Satan

Fallen Lucifer
With unseemly countenance
Wolfing human souls.

151. Heaven

God’s Abode ever,
Ineffable Glory reigns,
Joyous Light dwelleth.

152. Hell

The pit of Satan,
Agonizing gnashing teeth,
The endless darkness.

153. Judas’ Kiss

Outright betrayal,
Unrepentant self-collapse,
Thirty silver bits.

154. Sermon on the Mount

Beatitudes of life,
Truth preached with figures of speech,
The Voice of the Lord.

155. Eternity

The timeless journey,
No halts; no breaks; no fatigue,
Existence ever.

http://tinyurl.com/ja52pq4

or some said: Lawrence of Arabia?

yeah, sure,

as long as Egypt remains Egyptology:

and the Balkans or quasi-Slavs known as
Serbs and pardoning Ottomans
do one in on the Kosovo tribalism
akin to: Albania here -
yeah, i too was going to buy
Allah-Las's third album,
but then i thought about the Napster
generation, then thought about Judas
and then thought: well...
you turn.

when Ramses destroyed Syria...
              you're?! you're a catastrophe!

second that.. never mind the ****
or the caring ***** in uncle,
great-grandchildren.... and that surrogate auntie
named Alice.

             i gave my enemy a copy of *ecce **** -
missing luck in terms of all those yesterdays -
i never had the Golgotha crowd
          to create Evangelism or Islam
which i count akin to Ma Ma Malachi's
trip to Delhi he never had: stinking Calcutta:
oh i don't mean the food, i mean the Swedes:
who the **** puts iron into their curry?

Saint Paul did preach the Gospel, of the Grace of God
According to the Scriptures, and he published this abroad
-
To the church at Corinth, two letters he did write
Told them of Salvation, and how to fight the Fight
-
He wrote of Jesus Christ, crucified on Calvary
And His Resurrection, for all the world to see
-
He did this all from Scriptures, From the Torah he did site
From the Talmud also, Paul shined this Holy Light
-
From Geniuses to Malachi, he quoted chapter quoted verse
All about the Lamb of God, nothing was adverse
-
And Paul wrote about the Last Days, of men with minds corrupt
Reprobate from Truth, his Gospel they'd disrupt
-
They'd twist God's Holy Word, the Scriptures were ignored
Paul did warn of this; do not blunt the Two Edged Sword
-
"According to the Scriptures", to Corinth Paul wrote twice
This is the Word of God, not just mere advice

i don't understand the seeking of the vantage point in poetry,
as i never did in prose, this shadowy sociably acceptable
voyeurism, this need to weave a spiderweb, and all you're
weaving is a trap that isn't yours... now seeking a vantage point
from a prosaic perspective makes sense, because you're akin
to someone working in a factory or being the lumberjack...
oddly enough the phrase: jack of all trades doesn't fit the best
description of the job entitled: chopping wood jack.
but when i see poetry i see it, people establishing the voyeurism,
the need to pretend to be spies... that's what countering spying
involves: writing fiction: writing fiction isn't about elaborating
lying... it's about solidifying it, perpetuating it... after a while
the stamina asks: how many more to come? i don't have it in me...
stop treating me like a hot-rod **** english gentleman,
i'm slouched in a room and tired, *******. but you see these
unnatural poems, where people write on purpose,
they haven't made the grade to automate voyeurism,
they're still at the stage of wanting the gift of narration,
but they can't get it up to the heights of an air balloon...
it's there for the grasping, but that would mean something
more difficult than relinquishing abstract narration,
it would involve giving up their characteristics
to make characters, and they as such have very lessened
probing mechanisms to create artefacts: they have
a generic beauty about them... no hook nose, no BFG ears.
- just like Malachi wrote to only later plagiarise Moses...
in the end it just became a plagiarism:
a cat in the box, Schrödinger is expected:
but never the bunny and the top-hat and the magician;
so you see these poems, these contemporary efforts,
and you start thinking: why all this
voyeurism intention in the background? why are they trying to
purposively stage  a voyeurism? is there any decency left in man?
poets don't perform the art of voyeurism, in that they don't even
have the tact / capacity to create the actual ****** / narrator /
puppeteer... at least my attention span ascribes a care
for punctuation marks... as it turns out, the righteous
psychiatrists plagued the poets rightfully: too much emotion gave
birth to the miscarriage of a lack of decency when respectable
attire was necessary, or one's own interpretation on how
comma, dot, hyphen, semi-colon and colon
ought to be allocated timing
     1mm,     1cm,     1km,    1nm          1Ly respectively?
sophism should be teaching us this prop...
sophism should be teaching us this attire, but it isn't.
as along with English slang from Latin: (verb) to grass, rat out,
alt. voyeurism: de anabaptismo grassante adhuc in multis
germaniae, poloniae, etc. variably: to spread the word / truth...
to rat on the Nazarene... preserve unholy things, and make attempts
at missionary positioning, weak knees, lacking the bendy parts
on the church floor; 21st century Russia? orthodoxy still teaches
the priest: face toward the altar, *** to the throng... keep them
dim-witted... 50% of Bangladeshis are  illiterate in Dhaka...
and even if they taught them this sound-encoding, they'd
never prosper given the established powers...
they're bankers in the realm of sun and moon,
tide and mountain and the unexplained joy of
a life in urban slums that's deemed monastic by
those glorifying the mysteries of EL LE PHU THU TUTU P PI POO E -
and look where we have literacy in western society?
game shows... obscure knowledge lessons, crosswords...
anyone mention spelling tests? let me just tell you, i've found
a new way of banking, i've seen the paupers, i've
seen the riches from nought to bought to not bought to nine,
might as well let the priests take the Sunday
off from Monday to Saturday and leave us
with the dyslexic investors to mind how they
didn't plainly explain the dividends...
still, the lack of decency of poets to put on clothes
in the guise of a narrator; some say indecency, some would then
argue: abstract! abstract! cleaner manoeuvre from neither narrator
nor a character... poet: chandelier... just hanging in
the air. in the end... ars poetica (art of poetry)? ars voyeurism.

****, no better hard-on apart from listening to some bruce springsteen and reading something from the book of malachi...

  my name will be great among the nations, from where the sun rises to where it sets: i.e. in english...

         good on y'ah pastor...

                 i admit, oh lord,
distinguishing between the righteous and
the religious folk...
hard to tell the tale of either,
most excruciating is when,
the two congregate...

     malachi (4:6)
he will turn the hearts of the parents to their children,
and the hearts of the children to their parents;
or else i will come and strike the land
   with total destruction.

you know my offering unto my father
this father's days?
the usual...
taking out the *******,
cooking some food,
          watering the flowers
in the garden...
  it wasn't a carboard cut-out
******* of the west...
oh, i'm well versed in bible jargon...

        i'm half a man? i'm not insulted...
because i didn't grow up to be a man
and have children?
  talk about a miracle being
a walking abortion!
      isn't kierkegaard or nietzsche
or kant the hälftemann?
"half" the man?
   so much for the "Übermensch",
more like: parodiemensch these days...
send the teens to the cinema
while the parents stay at home,
when, the inverse was corrected
and the parents went to the cinema
and when kid sitters were required...
like... shirley maclaine: hot as ****...
and the whole gig of trampolines...
or whatever you called them in the 1960s...
elevator operators... ****...
that's what you called them...

****... better start telling the pro-life
movement that,
whenever i ******* into a tissue
i get a sense of being the next
pol ***...
        i guess the ***** was always
dead in me,
   and "magically" became
                             alive in a woman...
well: here's to another genocide...
oh sure...
    having started aged 8,
     castration wouldn't be a problem...
the male sensation of an ******
isn't related to ******* anything as such...
you can experience an ******
as an 8 year old...
   but there's no ***** to be *******...
still...
        prostitutes are pro-life,
but they don't gamble / bribe the argument...
that was the worst time in my life...
   being bribed: the "oops" moment...
there was about as much "oops" in
that moment, as there was kama sutra
in oppenheimer's vedic citation.
or is that somehow related to shooting
out hollow eggs all the time,
              it was one thing to call
me irresponsible,
another: no legal contract,
                "man-up"...
                           ­ that's probably the only
reason i ever went to a *******...
had to check the ground...
  fiddle my way through
some sort of justification
    in order to not be shouted down
by some day-time agony aunt jerry
springer host on t.v.,
            and to be honest?
   once that brothel transaction went through?
and i saw with clear eyes,
what an authentic transaction looks like?
all that pandering, dates,
   clothes shopping...
           n'ah...
             give me a cube:
   i'll put it through the square hole...
give me an sphere,
              i'll put it through the circle hole.

my present for father's day?
my daddy-oh received a letter from
the p.m. of england,
mr. cameron, how he was the goodie-goodie
good-shoe tight left foot bloat
when paying taxes...
    paid them...
                  a regular at the tax olympics...
me? i don't pay taxes,
i don't earn enough...
i have a student loan...
almost halfway through,
once i reach 30+ years it will be written
off...
              i'd pay... if i landed
a chemistry job... since working in
a supermarket is all i'm ever going to get?
**** 'em...
              i'll wait... then i'll take the
dutch youth route of asking for
euthanasia... well... it's not like i will
jive to have a life worth of living
for... just... strangers...

see, i have found release...
   i'm so unterribly unjealous of my father...
he can have all the praises...
he's also an only-child,
abandoned by his mother and father,
raised by his grandparents...
   i'm half a man by not risking
to establish a family, a legacy,
by marrying?
you know... funny that...
i'd rather take my chances
with a grizzly bear than a woman...
at least me and a grizzly is
a 1-on-1 interaction...
no third party bullshitters in-between...
no bureaucratic stalemates,
no bureaucratic no-man's land...
no bureaucratic frustration...
                  me, grizzly:
either i skin the ******,
or? i get mauled... easy-peasy-japanese!
i like that absolute "conundrum"...

oh i still live with my parents...
england, housing shortage...
        this is probably the right time to "love"
your parents...
or at least mind them,
i don't mind them, i do most of the household
chores, then i drink at night...
they don't mind me drinking:
unless... unless i don't shower for more than
2 days... then i start to stink of a brewery...
well... either this or...
the forest floor, or homeless in loon'don...
not much choice... certainly no environment
for a girlfriend...
and, girlfriend, mind you...

    i like listening to all these vollmensch:
the full men...
   so wise, so wise,
with their wife and children,
always with the ideal prescription
for existence!
               taken risk, bounty,
result! boo y'ah!
              yes, when you already have
what you're prescribing others to take...
mind you...
again, to reiterate...
       kant was a bachelor...
                   i like that he completed his
adventure into "manhood" as less
an atheist: in need of people to be listened to
akin to chrissy hitchens...
   and more a solipsist...
              i guess i'm the child
of his thinking...
  so much for ******* i guess...
ugh... the anglophile world and its
fanaticism surrounding darwinism
and the big bang (bang, bang in a vacuum?)...
genes and i.q.,
what dry intellectual debates...
proper suited to a butcher's shop than
a cafe, and... god forbid a brothel!
give me a slab of raw beef meat
and an english tongue and i'll
cut you the same slab of something
worth satiating the hungry palette.

   h'america is still christ crazed,
sitting down congregation in easy armchairs...
armored to the **** with futility after futility
to mar the existence of the atom bomb:
more bullets, more guns, more money...
nuclear is the antithesis of warfare...
one drop, the end... who needs a war akin
to that?

                    i stopped looking toward h'america
a long time ago...
                   england is choking me as it is...
i'm looking toward germany come early 20th century
thought... ****... maybe i should be looking
toward to Moldova, anything but this,
any form of escapism will help...
   Greenland, the Faroe Islands...
          
i'll go as far as to say:
i'd quit drinking...
           if i was contracted a decent ****
from Tehran.

a poem by
                                                            Alic­e Nemo
entitled:
                        (a) poem that summarises much
               of walt whitman
without all the airy-fairy
                                 angst-ridden waffle (2004,
poetry magazine
                                            Monkey Kettle).

under copyright restrictions you'd have to read the printed
version - still the pretentious "published" writers
waving paper about as a mark of superiority?
look, with the internet publishing Ferrari
you can wave published paper works a bit like a fiat currency,
which is the current currency -  i can do the same with
a poetry book, a paperback edition, a bit like
Max Keiser explaining the concept to Russell
Brand ripping up a twenty quid bill...
i could do likewise with some pretentious ***
and his published book of prose and just tell him:
i don't believe in it, not a single word of it,
i'm more worried about the one book, two book
dilemma coming from a simple heresy in
the old testament done by Malachi confused
about fractions, incorporating some sort of
reincarnation process to the 1 over 1 rule of mono.

but i have to apologise to        
                                                  Ms. Nemo,
    whitman's
joke concerning his
                             poetry was unearthed
  this year...
                    the rediscovered advice
        to                                                  Amer­ica's men:
                       meat, beards
                           and               not too much ***.

let me reiterate what fiat currency gave us,
fiat literature... America's got talent children's books,
fiat currency undermined literature by creating
fiat literature - both paper, easier for any idiot
to understand - might as well have a currency where
you post checks using the paper aeroplane postman
of your right hand - because to what will you now
apply the concept of money to? gold is tacky,
a rich man with gold is tacky, a gypsy, or platinum,
a double gypsy, and he's a total gimp
with a gold plated Rolls Royce, sending a fleet
or like-for-like rides to roll in London, but only
around Knightsbridge... and sometimes down to
the shady parts of London like Edgware Road -
you know, where the real London ganstas hang out.

god, i'm                     never going to
                      cite the whitman              answer now,
revealing                   the man behind
                                                 others'      in­terpretation
as Ms. Nemo suggested:
                                     airy-fairy angst-riddle
              waffle...
was that really a
                                           Smiths' song
from the album
                                     god save the queer?                  
                                       ­                   old school quiz:
old man the quasi-******,
                                       talked like a castrato
sung like a baritone...                                 it
                                                            was perplexing...
but apparently when
                                                not singing
                            he used a testicular
****** that squeezed               the *****,
                                                        ma­king him talk
like a pre-pubescent boy  
                                                          w­alking on tiptoe.
yeah...    47,000 word treatise
                                                    autu­mn 1858
  a mythological
                                   New York newspaper (myth-
i.e. long ago defunct),
                                                    mai­n points:
- beards are great sanitary
                              protection                  to the throat,
- too much repetition
                                 with ***         =        weedy children
- a healthy manly virility seems
                                                     to be
                                                                ­    almost lost -
   seems to have given place to a morbid,
                                               almost insane,
   pursuit of women,
      especially of                the lowest ranges
                                                                ­             of them;
      
(the ******* contract = no chase, but of course!)

     surely the personae of the odes to Lincoln
     a decent enough act,
     yet behind the man... words as those above.

bah bah black sheep... ok... the black sheep knuckled you to sleep
and now you’re asking for directions using a map and not a satellite navigation
across europe, esp. tremendous in germany near dortmund
and the rhine cities getting confused... but that’s no reason
to drive with ease from new jersey to florida with a glum pickers' pride
en route... i can play the ‘i spy with my little’ game into midnight passing me and spare myself inventive optics -
like shadow like hallucination in consistency, both flimsy,
i can recognise the real filth from packaged recyclables
from the orient.
well there’s that and there’s old russell the schizoid affective
outside tesco drinking a bottle of old speckled hen
and talking about snowfalls... 3 / 4 years ago last time i spotted
saint clause... i slipped and imagined myself breaking a knee...
didn’t happen... what happened was was a clearer truth:
why this fake image stimulant... i cant’ watch the stars
but have to subconsciously watch candy crush?
it’s ****! i want the days within the insignia of war,
i don’t want my subconscious patented with candy crush,
i want the stars to remain... better an autocrat than a technocrat...
at least a human face... adolf touchy-feely,
here we go...
i imagine all those rivers of heraclitus concerning a coordinate
known as a waterfall... and post-humous exactness expressing peace...
then i spot picasso on the roof outside my bedroom window...
i support his elevation through evangelicalism from halo to angels wings...
you know what the three wise babylonians said...
you scared them to egypt you idiot announcing reign of the ditto,
you scared them them with myrrh, melchior you’re already close to malachi,
that will do... look at it... it’s babylonian already...
it’s a babylon of orthodox christianity (greek / russian), catholicism,
protestantism, baptists, pantheists and other offshoots
like being mormon!
well you can never make an omelette by the dozen involved
without asking the thirteenth egg: chicken or egg first? crucifix?! oh.

the earliest dylan works
in the outer-reaches of suburbia -
it works in a way
that you could almost plough
to a fold of summer -
it works -
but the troubling news comes
with the article
about how humanities students
don't finish books,
all the academics are forced to
feed short-cuts and footnote
wormholes for an A grade -
or something in the kinship akin.
where the cherished crumpled page
or a crease or a half begun
paper-aeroplane of the edge
acting as bookmark?
you know there's this alternative
hinduism in the library -
it doesn't make a cow a deity,
it's a book - to never fold edges of
pages to create a false bookmark,
easier to stamp the ants,
the snails, and *****-slap to death
the flies -
but this western hinduism is not
bound to animate beings of lesser
attempts at being crowned -
eastern hinduism is hierarchic
in terms of animate things -
western hinduism is hierarchic
akin to bargains, antiques and
respects -
                 so too the question
of moral relativism abhorred by the
last ancient greeks -
and so too aesthetic morality of
table manners concerned with
proper cutlery use at a banquet with
a king minding neither fork, spoon
or knife, but rather his crown
that can't be used as a soup-bowl -
yes, aesthetic moral- -ism -
impatience held sway once with many
stimuli, in our age so few are
worth stimulating us -
                        the sources -
even words are coerced whereby
the roman geometrics of the Y akin
to the splintering of trees -
but indeed debase your humanity to
something lesser than what you might
call a labourer or an accountant with
your princely function - what will you see?
ask the dog to not bark politely rather than
with scorn of a smack or kick -
bark with him in his annoyance in the night
being left outside as if to presuppose
him being born into a ritual of scorn -
for if hinduism is the only polytheism
worth inspecting, not necessarily revising,
but necessarily borrowing to craft a sense
of oneself -
tell me then, why would i care to concern
myself with the faulty monotheism,
the malachi heresy stating an adaptation
of heresy? is this a copernicus moment,
should a return of elijah be accounted
for in judaism, and a return of isa in islam,
then monotheism falters:
in fractions: a 2nd elijah could make
the monotheistic concept of oneness a half,
since there would be two elijahs to mind,
and too akin to a 2nd isa would make
monotheistic concept a half...
and a third: 3/1    would only craft a third...
and i dare say in writing such
encounters of repetition are to match-up to
the repetitions of summers, days and nights,
and should such repetitions be scolded
then it would be "wise" akin to Xerxes I
to make command of men to lash the sea
to sit still and become as a lake -
so please do not look into the modern man
for micrometre proofs of madness...
look elsewhere! look elsewhere!
stop itemising modern man with that
study of psychiatric endeavour looking
for micrometre proofs of earning!
look into the kilometres of madness
that our history is bound with!
take pick of the proper canvas to compare with!
i endear you, please! a micrometre is a millionth
comparison - don't induce the idea that
a nervous twitch is suddenly an epileptic attack!

the worst curse i ever received upon breaking up with a girl: you'll always be a child if you leave me and go back home. my reply? it's the pain that makes me childish sometimes, i'm a son of immigrants, i was ready to work the roofing business to earn money, but i guess Rasputin didn't see as much either in the people of St. Petersburg... i can say: the Scottish Widows' HQ roof near St. Paul's cathedral is partially mine... well thanks for only allowing me to complete one roof.*

o sweet medicine! o sweet medicine for my burning
head after such prolonged watch,
insomniac, i can't believe his disciples who
were working men, men of the fisheries,
and of other trades, who fell asleep so easily
at his prayer in the garden of gethsemane,
i alone would have stayed awake,
not because i'd want to, or because i would
chose to have: but because the night is my
malady, to stay awake, and during the day
esp. during summer, it's no good time to
find a Nordic shade - that's about half a litre
of absinthe and a walk for five beers
and then the synthetic sleep inducers will
work, little disks of such an infinite pleasure
but of finite experience when compared to
those venturing with shamans from both the
Amazon and the Swiss chemistry laboratory -
she wouldn't be as smart about being able to
take pain, to later complain about a weak
spine if man managed to ditch the inglorious
book of genesis and chose instead the rationality
of the Roman way of birth... oh men so content
with life fall to sleep so easily in order to
jump back into life, and morning, this past morning
i can watch a man walk cool spring streets readied
for whatever emptying task, for indeed the emptying
task is filled with the already emptying thing:
the thing that cradles many things, and by process
of not only economic, but of aesthetic conditions changes
many hands with Shiva playing poker with you,
once the stone carved precious rather than crude held
value, prior that, the flint... but aren't these the times
of the limits of money changing its form?
perhaps all these profession that bring neither bread
from dough, or egg from hen, perhaps the readied
meal, the readied salad, milk sold as skimmed
semi-skimmed and full, when could have been sold
only full so what water might be added at home?
O man's care over fellow man's health, first ruining
his behaviourism, then enticing him further to
some idea of amphibian genes in his ability to swim?
to have created diabetes by cursing natural fat,
to have eradicated fat from natural products needing
to contain it, filling it with excess sugars...
what good would that do if not create a diabetic outbreak?
mm, the honest workers fell asleep while the dishonest
mystic prayed for compensations to his aims?
of my life, i'd give the many hours he gave on the cross
in order to know a certain guilt and a justifiable
punishment - but i know only uncertain guilt
and unjustifiable punishment by man, a fellow of youth,
if you are to plagiarise a plagiarism of monotheism
remember that the first plagiarism took root in
polytheism, does Islam know this? monotheism
made a mistake, polytheism exploited it and never told
the monotheists the mistake from the travels of
Alexander to India... O poor Malachi...
just a brief book, perhaps two poems by 21st standards
of prodigious output, and so much zeal invoked...
for fair you in Hades? you'd fare better with me on
the Mount of Megiddo... look here what a poor
shepherd's frustration at being excess skin on forehead
cheeks and neck made him do to his phallus -
at least the pagans of the north worshipped what was
given to them, and didn't bother revision,
look at their civilised shock and the barbaric being
revised as if a dove of Noah metaphor of promise
to spread the good word of revision the same revisions
given unto the Dobberman dogs with slit ears and
cut tails... or, let's just say Bleach Jackson and painkillers...
well, if one wants to suffer to continue spreading
the good word of revising creation, of man's lost
invigorating spirit, making man more docile,
well virile in head and toe: O ROMANS, LEND ME
YOUR EARS, YOUR FORESKINS AND YOUR TESTICLES!
see... spread the message far enough and a few of
man will lose more than just the ease of only one
*** with excess skin... hey! castrato hymn! sing!
well, the crown of Myrrh did spread to our modern
companion of excess diagnoses, we diagnosed
the imperishable, the soul of persistence in this world
not by destroying the existence of god,
that's no man's vitality, unless in earnest prayer
for personal concerns, rather than kneeling in oink church:
prayers for the slaughter rather than martyrdom...
it can't be that easy even if you played yo-yo
with alms and tax... what modern man destroyed
was soul: he instigated so many theories against man
rather than against god (god is readily gone away with),
by undermining the core essence, the vitality of man,
indeed thought exists for philosophers, and they never
seem to be bored of entertaining it, like a monk
entertaining god... but what modern psychology undermined
was what it said to be a travesty: why can't man
perpetually think! why can't we can't we create
ascriptive pathologies we best describe by zoology
in treatment?! you undermine the force of manual labour
you undermine the displeasure man has with thought
rather than god, i.e. thought implying fellow man:
the car mechanic having to think when his boss lays
him off, although enjoying his manual work, so
freely excited like a sunrise of a perfectly happy body
fully exercised in existential arithmetic counting
birthdays and the number of Christmases... huh?
a man mechanised is content with his body,
to him god is simple as god is simple to Kant...
it's thought that's not entertaining on your little
modern stage... back when God sought redemption
from the cross than thinking about giving redemption
to people, he merely allowed perversity and ****...
well, people cursed god, because thought back then
was manipulated by the dis-attractiveness of
the farmer's life... the still breathing care for adventure...
all my finer points have already been made,
the last remaining points are just written
to show you how far a rigidity of words can become
of the people who hardly read:
e.g. hallowed be thy name...
       holy be your name?
       let's say the modern interpretation is:
       hollow is your name... since we rather
       censor the word **** than make optical
       studies of the tetragrammaton,
       not inserting Adam & Eve into the equation
       we're working on something,
       it's not purposive censorship, it's
       just unnecessarily necessary to see things:
       the tetragrammaton is a tool, like a hammer,
       or a nail... it's not necessarily
       the person using either.

The Bible in  Hakiu/Senryu
1. Adam
The unborn human
Made of soil by the Lord
For to rule the world.

2. Eve

Made of Adam’s rib
To live and serve with her mate
But fallen to sin.

3. Disobedience

The act against God
Inclined to the devil’s word
Unbelief in God.

4. Nakedness of Adam and Eve

Disgraced by their sin
Saturated in the fruit
Stripped of holiness.


5. The Garden of Eden

The place of God’s land
Of freedom and temptation
Of good and evil.

6. Satan in Serpent

The one arch rival
Of God, fallen of his pride,
Intruded to rob.

7. The Fruit of knowledge of Good and Evil

A mystery image
Made of God to try His man;
The logic of God.

8. The first parents’ punishment

Drifted from God’s Peace;
Fallen into Satan’s trap;
Of sorrows and death.

9. Abel

A righteous God’s son,
And born to be slain by Cain;
Innocence perceived.

10. Cain

A tool of evil
Shrouded with disgrace and shame;
The root of evil.

11. Noah and the Ark

God’s righteous man
Saved by his obedience
By the Grace of God.

12. The Flood

The Judgment of God
Fallen upon sins;
A great symbol of new life

13. Babel Tower

The evil image,
A symbol of human pride,
Conquered by Wisdom.

14. Abraham

God’s chosen human;
A father of great nations;
The faith understood.

15. Sarah

A blessed mother;
Blessed with Isaac in late age;
Abraham’s true heart.

16. Ishmael

A son of Abram
Born of Hagar by force;
Displeasure of God.

17. ***** and Gomorrah

The twins of evil,
Cradled by Satan with filth;
Burnt into ashes

18. Lot’s wife

An image of greed;
Ruled by the worldly desire;
A pillar of salt!

19. Isaac

The bond of Lord God
With Abraham for the race;
Faith tested in him.

20. Rebekah

Born to Bethuel
Full of generosity,
Mother of Jacob.

21. Jacob

Power and grace of God
Meant for cunning and deceit;
Yet blessed with Israel.

22. Rachel

A wife of Jacob;
Favourite and pleasing; mother
Of new progeny.

23. Aaron

A high-priest of God;
Elder brother of Moses,
A prophet of God.

24. Andrew

Yea, an apostle of Christ,
Brother of Simon Peter,
Living with the fish.


25. Barabbas

A condemned robber,
A convict praised by the Jews,
Thoughtless of the good.

26. Daniel

A man of visions;
Hero in the Lion’s den,
Unharmed by God’s Hand.

27. David

The psalmist of God,
The second king of Israel,
Guided by the Lord.

28. Samson and Delilah

A fool with muscle
Deprived by an evil force,
Fallen to blind death.

Scheming pretty ***,
Tainted with treachery,
Realm of sedition.

29. Elijah

A Hebrew prophet,
Persecuted for slurring
Ahab and Jez’bel.

30. Elisha

A great successor
Of Elijah, a prophet,
A stern disciple.


31. Enoch

The son of Jared,
Prior to Noah’s Great Flood,
Taken by the Lord.

32. Joseph

Sold to slavery
By his own jealous brothers,
The great vizier.


33. Esau

The twin of Jacob,
Sold his birthright to Jacob,
A son of Isaac.

34. Esther

Beauty embodied,
Then turned a queen of Persia,
Saviour of people.

35. Ezekiel
His book of visions
Predicts the fall of Judah
And Jerusalem.

36. Ezra

Ancient Jewish priest,
Law-maker at the altar,
Sent from Babylon.

37. Gideon

A wise Hebrew judge;
Led the Israel to victory
‘Gainst  Midianites.


38. Goliath

Philistine giant
Killed by David with a stone,
Terror to Hebrews.

39. Jesus Christ

He’s the Word of God,
The Way to Eternity,
God in human flesh.

40. John the Baptist

Forerunner of Christ,
Beheaded by King Herod,
Baptizer of Christ.

41. Judas Iscariot

Betrayer of Christ,
Fallen on thirty pieces
Silver to death.



42. Lazarus

Restored from death
By Jesus; for whom Christ wept,
Mary and Martha’s.

43. Lot

Abraham’s nephew;
Escaped *****’s destruction,
His wife, salt pillar.

44. Luke

An Evangelist,
A physician, who wrote Acts
And Jesus’ Gospel.

45. Mary Magdalene

A sinful woman,
Redeemed of evil spirits,
Devoted to Christ.

46. Matthew

A tax collector,
An apostle of Jesus,
A Gospel writer.

46. Matthias
A Christ’s Apostle,
Chosen by lot to replace
The Christ’s betrayer.

47. Melchizedek  

The priest of Salem,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ’s priesthood of God.

48. Moses

A Hebrew prophet,
Who had led the Israelites
To the Promised Land.


49. Nebuchadnezzar  

King of Babylon,
Who  destroyed Jerusalem;
Exiled the Jews.



50.  Paul

A Christ’s Apostle,
Died as a martyr in Rome;
Wrote great Epistles.

51 Peter

One who left fishing
For Christ as an Apostle,
Denied Christ three times.

52. Pontius Pilate

“What is Truth?” He asked.
The Roman procurator,
His hand in Christ’s death.

53. Solomon

The king of Israel,
Credited with great wisdom,
Son of David.

54. Susanna

The wife of Joachim,
Falsely accused but saved by
Daniel's wisdom.

55. Tetragrammaton

Hebrew Name for God;
Revealed to Moses on Mount
Sinai. Named ‘Yahweh’.

56. Mary

The worldly mother
Of Jesus who fostered Him
Till His death of Cross.

57. Ten Commandments

The law for the Jews
Carved on the stone, and rendered
Through Moses for them.

58. David’s sling

God’s Power hidden,
“Gainst the evil Goliath,
A sign of victory.



59. The Great Flood

The Lord’s Great wrath ‘gainst sins,,
The fair judgment of the Lord
For a new era.

60. Noah’s Ark

God’s Shelter on earth,
A prototype of Jesus
Christ for salvation.

61. Pillar of Salt

Symbol of man’s greed,
Lot’s wife, the victim of greed,
Wrath of human sin.

62. Plagues of Egypt

Curses of the Lord
Upon the sins of Israel,
Lesson to the world.

63. Solomon’s Wisdom

Incomparable
Gift of God to Solomon,
And none on earth has.

64. Psalms

Heartfelt songs to God,
Joy and distressed flow from heart,
Musical prayers.

65. Ecclesiastes

Truth of Vanities,
Preaching the short span of life,
And to fear the Lord.

66. Proverbs

Wise sayings of God,
Hidden truth of life in short,
All quotable quotes

67. Genesis

In the beginning,
Record of God’s creation
And of great nations.



68. Exodus

Israelites’ freedom
From slavery in Egypt;
The book of journey.

69. Leviticus

Book on rituals,
Traditions and practices
Led to the altar.

70. Numbers

The culmination
Of the life of Israelites’
Flight from the *******.

71. Deuteronomy

Drifting of Israel
In wilderness forty years,
And of Moses’ death.

72. Joshua

Conquest of Canaan,
Campaigns of the Israelites,
Forming of twelve tribes.

73. Judges

Unfaithful Israel
Fallen into punishment,
Cycle of sins ran.

74. Ruth

Ruth accepting God,
Israelites as her own folks,
Liturgical book.


75. I & II Samuel

Forming theology,
God’s Law given through prophets,
Based on Jewish life.

76. I & II Kings

History of Israel
From the death of King David
To Jehoiachin’s aid.


77. I & II Chronicles

Genealogy
From Adam. A narrative
Till Cyrus the Great.

78. Ezra

The first arrival
Of exiles during Cyrus,
About unique Jews.

79. Nehemiah

Firmness to restore
Jerusalem. Appointed
Judah’s Governor.

80. Esther

The queen of Persia;
Upset of the genocide
Of her own people.

81. Job

The vindication
Of God’s justice for man’s woes,
A theology.

82. Song of Solomon

Celebrating
****** love and enjoyment;
****** passion.

83. Isaiah

Jerusalem be
The centre of worldwide rule
By the Messiah.

84. Jeremiah

Message to the Jews
In exile in Babylon,
For their idol gods.

85. Lamentations

Grief o’er the city’s
Desertion; return to God,
A funeral dirge.



86. Ezekiel

Visions on three themes:
Judgment on Israel; nations,
Blessings for Israel.

87. Daniel

End time portrayal,
Visions and message of God
That He is just God.

88. Hosea

Slur at idol gods,
A metaphorical note:
Israel’s faithlessness.

89. Joel

Great Lamentations
Over locust plague and drought,
Call for repentance.

90. Amos

A short oracle
Announcing God’s great judgment,
Disgrace of great crimes.

91. Sin

The passage to death,
The arch enemy of God,
In various forms.  

92. Judas’ Betrayal

It is Judas’ Kiss,
God’s plan destined for Christ’s death,
Closeness defeated.

93. Peter’s Denial

Human fear of man,
Mortal bond ‘gainst Jesus’ Way,
Winning cowardice.

94. I AM

The Name of Lord God,
The Everlasting Father,
Holiness in Christ.



95. Grace

The unmerited
Divine aid to human life
For their saintly life.  

96. Mercy

The compassionate
Forbearance shown to the crooks
For their repentance.

97. Gratitude

Of being thankful;
Readiness to love others,
A virtuous act.

98. Repentance

Sorry for one’s crimes,
The divine change from one’s sins,
Pow’r of salvation.

99. Patience

The power of courage,
Tolerance of incitement
With no annoyance.

100. Truth

The Lord Jesus Christ,
The Way to Eternity,
Christ’s Second Coming.

101. Obadiah

An oracle of
Edom’s divine judgment note,
Restore of Israel.

102. Jonah

Swallowed by a fish,
Drifted from God’s commandment,
And then repented.

103. Micah

Jerusalem’s ruin
Predicted; Judah rebuked
For its idol gods.



104. Nahum

Assyrian’s end
Predicted, and Nineveh,
Poetical style.

105. Habakkuk

Five oracles of
Chaldeans rise to power,
Might be a Levi.

106. Zephaniah

Warnings of the Day
Of the Lord with His Judgment
Upon the sinful.


107. Haggai

Rebuilding temple
Greatly to strike poverty
In Jerusalem.

108. Malachi

Of second return
Of prophet Nehemiah
From Persia long time.

109. Mark

Of Jesus’ mission,
Sketch of Christ as a Hero,
A Gospel writer.

110. Luke

An Evangelist;
Doctor who wrote the Gospel,
Might have written Acts.

111. John

Disciple Christ loved,
Revealed Christ, the Word of God,
And Jesus’ mystery.

112. Acts

Birth of Christian Church,
Christ for the Gentiles also,
Luke might be author.


113. Romans

Pauline Epistle
Of salvation through Gospel,
The Church growth in Rome.

114. I & II Corinthians

Rebuking Corinth
Of their infamous life-style,
Paul, a firm preacher.

115. Galatians

The controversy
With the gentiles o’er Moses’
Law for salvation.

116. Ephesians

Keeping Christ’s Body
Pure and holy –that’s the theme,
Paul’s fervent preaching.

117. Philippians

‘Thank You’ note from Paul,
Epaphroditus’ fortunes,
Canonical note.

118. Colossians

Christ’s supremacy
Over the whole universe,
Godly life to lead.

119. I & II Thessalonians

Firm preaching of Christ,
Salvation only in Christ,
All must be redeemed.

120. I & II Timothy

Leadership in Church,
Warnings against false doctrines,
The roles of women.

121. Titus

Unruly false teachers,
Who led people towards death,
A scathing attack.



122. Philemon

Self-designation
As a prisoner of Jesus,
Prayerful request.

123. Hebrews

Christ, the Radiance of God’s
Glory; the Express Image,
Upholding all things.

124. James

Patience in trials,
Christians to overcome sins,
Consistent in Christ.

125. I & II Peter

Steadfastness in faith,
Christian virtues exalted,
False teachers condemned.

126. I, II & III John

Fellowship with God,
Not to lose learnt of Jesus,
Hospitality.

127. Jude

Quotes from the ancient,
Admonishes all to live
In Christ forever.

128. Revelation

Obscure images,
Spiritual images,
Symbolic fable.

129. The star from the East

Christ for the Gentiles,
Salvation for everyone,
The world needs a guide.

130. The Magi

Christ, the King of kings,
All shall bow before the Christ,
The Greatest Ruler.



131. The shepherds

God shall not forget
Even the common people,
Pastoral image.

132. The Manger

Christ’s humility,
A virtue of a leader,
Proven example.

133. Mary and Joseph

The Lord’s chosen womb,
And the chosen guardian
Of the Divine Babe.

134. Scourges upon Christ

Sins of the mankind,
The obedience of man
To satanic law.

135. Crown of Thorns

Pleasures of the world
At the cost of Divine Love,
Unholy worship.

136. Crucifixion

The old law been sealed,
The Law of Love to open,
The sin on the Cross.

137. “Why hast Thee forsaken Me?”

Sin separated
Man from God. Great agony
Without holy God.

138. The Garden of Gethsemane

A communion
Betwixt Christ and the Father,
Blood of agony.

139. Miracles of Jesus Christ

The Power of God
Manifested upon Christ
That the world knows HIM>



140. The Early Days of Jesus

A preparation
For the Divine Ministry
That man follows HIM.

141. Jesus’ First Coming

The Way born for man
Unto God the Eternal,
Of Mercy and Love.

142. Christ’s Second Coming

End of human life,
Christ the Judge to curse sinners,
Steadfast in HIS Plan.

143. Jesus’ Resurrection

Death has lost its sting,
The arch foe of God defeated,
Mankind begets Hope.

144. The Pentecost

The Spirit of God
Descended upon people
To proclaim the Word.

145. Atheist

The terrible phase
Of mankind which rejects God,
Shrouded with darkness.

146. Disbelief in Christ

Shrouded with glamour,
Lover of Death forever,
Sipping sweet poison.

147. Idol Worship

Brutal devotion,
Acrobatic somersaults,
Towards the Chasm.

148. Temptation

Sugar-coated trap,
Poison in enticing fruit,
A sweet hug to fall.



149. A soul between good and evil

Between Life and Death,
Walking on a strip of thread,
A sword on one’s throat.

150. Satan

Fallen Lucifer
With unseemly countenance
Wolfing human souls.

151. Heaven

God’s Abode ever,
Ineffable Glory reigns,
Joyous Light dwelleth.

152. Hell

The pit of Satan,
Agonizing gnashing teeth,
The endless darkness.

153. Judas’ Kiss

Outright betrayal,
Unrepentant self-collapse,
Thirty silver bits.

154. Sermon on the Mount

Beatitudes of life,
Truth preached with figures of speech,
The Voice of the Lord.

155. Eternity

The timeless journey,
No halts; no breaks; no fatigue,
Existence ever.