the virus is raging: or so we're told -
i don't really mind whether we're told anything
anymore - i can finally come to grips
with the male version of the niqab:
just fine...

                              but once the virus impregnated:
whether our actual bodies or...
whether this: that be the detached from the herd
mind - whatever cull word: or choice of....

but... islam stopped: doing its business of
a revival... a revival... mind you...
that only involved the sunnis...
  it's like: the ******* would rather sweep their
whole schism under the magic carpet...
no... they wouldn't: they: sunnis...
wouldn't attack the sh'ites... the persians:
yeah... good luck with that...
the persians would bow before...
a bunch of camel jockeys:
  the library of baghdad...
              and: a library with only one book...
quasi-poetry: that damns poetry...

but i guess a book that takes hold of the heart
is much more than a book
that agitates the mind...
the bible: agitates the mind...
**** knows what it does to the heart...
but i'm sure to know that...
a proper adhan...
   can leave me in tears...
like...

but when i hear: da pacem domine...
or anything! anything resembling teuotnic songs
of the conquest of the baltic states:
too bad for merry ol' german...
having converted the prussians...
the prussians...
well: the revenge of the pagans over
their christian overlords...
or some **** like that: otherwise a different cover...
so much so that...
the polacks stood a chance with the kashubians...
and the silesians...
mongrel tongue they are much at home
than if ruled over by prussians...

jihad: a war of reclaiming land...
never a war of intrusion...
you reclaim all you have lost:
but you do not claim new land...
it's not a holy war beside:
what has to occur naturally: the growth of
an idea: that the enzyme is a sword...
well: no one's perfect...

but given there's a break from
fetish fashisto islamism...
     turban afghan / saudi sunni **** flinging
pajamas... well...
what about the hugo boss uniforms you
promised with all that oil money you ******
away on yachts and ****** that:
those ****** were waiting for you in jannah?!

of course i'm teasing the mamluk and
the janissary...
if you fed me... adhans... poetry...
and then: speeding to modern times...
played me as this egyptian stranger...
in amsterdam: architecture student... genius doodler...
an afternoon with him... beers and some jojo-and-mary...
in amsterdam... or... the previous afternoon
and these two slobs: germans...
and he gave me a song to listen to...
how the world dwarfed...
le trio joubran - masar...

i have nothing in christianity: a headache...
i tried judaism: too complicated...
linguistic avenues: herr zensor ha-shem:
the name of: kether: keter -
crown... you can only be so smart...
before: ehyeh asher ehyeh just because the same
bogus "trip" of pickled intellect you
have with that trinity and: fraction...

da pacem domine...
            muhammad can start wearing a niqab
at this moment... i don't even know whether
a proselyte status is teasing me:
i can't tame a heart: esp. my own...
but seeing the clear reduction of islamic
intrusion into christian affairs of:
yawn... usury? iconoclasm?
                        contra: the former...

you sold me on the romance of mamluk and
jannisary... because i'm fat from being tired
from what christianity has to offer...
honestly... even if there was a nag hammadi
library revival of the gnostic section...
or... 100 years from now...
there was news about the fate of isaiah
and the dead-sea-scrolls...

                 the muslims are not attacking...
by the grace of god...
some authoritarian mouthpiece from their shitpile
of clueless stopped talking...
and the adhan could be listened to: again...
and rumi minimalism could be read:
sufism! could be digested...

my mind can wander calendars... days and decades...
dreams and deja vus...
it can cross boundaries inanimate object
territory and turn to all things fuzzy
in the realm of hallucinations:
denial, doubt, conviction
in one way or another...
fractions of synonyms...

i cherish the one libra... the heart's:
yes....           or...                      no...
then there's the christianity that borrows too much
from its: "cultured" / cultivated paganism...
whether greek or trojan (alias latin)...
i'm tired of these arguments...
they're either claustrophobic (without any
evidence of clarifying workable space)....
trash: recycling matter... per-haps...

                      hoarder peoples of the world
"unite"... no... i'm "bored" and just exhausted
by the secular arguments or how
the trinity fraction ingenuity should work...
when islam is stsarting to turn lazy...
i figured: the romance associated with
the mamluk and the janissary is open, yes?

sufism and the indivisible one?
the vector: the north: point north vector -
the frankenstein moster clue: that's still open?
will i meet the drawfish turks along the way...
and they'll come up with...
canons for ****-open the walls
of constantinople?

      ever convert someone by way of
shrivelling up their testicles or crucifying their
mind on the altar of phobias?
if you don't have the heart...
you might as well be gagging for an achilles' heel...
if that!
christianity and pop cult. secularism...
i'm bored of worshipping
a static demigod...

        how many demigods came...
preceding? but this demigod is the fraction
celebration: the intellectual *******
of people who: cared not for...
the ferris wheel, etc.
                    
         rome is no more!
holy rome is no more: the "*****" achieved its purpose...
citing Casimir III also helped...
the nomads moved: jumped over the pond...
spider patience as released into
the city-scape: well of course... well done!
applause!

the question "question" is never asked...
given... hasn't christianity become a quasi-polytheism?
how many denominations?
too little gods: and the one...
as a fraction... can just keep on giving:
yet another preceding 0 of: the divided fraction
booth...

         the schism within islam was hardly
an intellectual:
all these "byzantine" precursor details...
such a bothersome spectacle for all:
that mind the bureucratic shoo! shoo!
              an intellectual affair:
                       worldly affairs... Ali was promised x...
the caliphs decided on project y...
the integrity of "the prophets" word:
while aging... senile yet still *******
a fresh cherub-and-orange akin to...
                 Khadija **** Khuwaylid still on my mind...
in praise of older women...

according to malcolm X and: cassius clay...
islam knows no race...
since... christian fwench... catholic...
spaniard catholic: later christian...
german retro: swiss...
anglican fudge-packers...
             yes... islam is not a nationality:
nor is it a race...
then again: what is croat... former yuogoslav...
or greek...
when... ahem... all that matters is...
h'american patriotism?!
if only the h'americans can be patriotic...
only the 50 shingles and twin barons
of stripes is on the ready...
the h'americans are: patriotic!
the rest of us are being nationalistic:
cousin-******-******!
can't islam come via Sarajevo and...
become... an escape plan?

   Ezra Pound might have cited:
the former proud stance of christianity against
usury... and now...
loan-sharks...
   i could be a slave to islam because
i could finally escape the "lost" e in
a ethnic grouping that has me locked in with...
the st. petersburg crowd...
the slavs...         and the germans: are... germs...
east a vowel - prefix at the wrong moment...
thank god that islam is not a people
but an idea...
and i'm burning with it...
without need to make or meet
proper formalities of conversion...
by heart's analogy of the mind's banquet
of the thesaurus...
when will the simple yes...
or the simple no arrive?
i don't know...
                i don't want to know...

after all: will you frequently hear...
of a *** / 'ebrew convert?
no! of course not! it's a... v.i.p. club...
you being a jew is more than an "idea"...
yep... it's exactly "also" a race...
you don't get to bypass all the cousin *******
cousin inbreeding on a whim...
you don't get to be given a "choice"...
while islam readily converts...
new blood...
islam readily converts because...
you were never a chosen within the confines
of the distinct few:
which is nice...
islam readily converts: while christianity willingly
abandons...
why am i looking into a mamluk /
janissary romance novel genre?
will i write one?
do i look like someone to turn a silver
spoon into a ***** and fake
a sigh?

dare i: dare not i: "not i"...
back into the basic structure of words:
back into syllables...
words like: da-je (it's giving)
                           i forget all the other mamas' and
papas'... "lyrics"...
i'm just bored of the exclusivity and
inclusivity of peoples...
mind you: i mind more...
what's that: fidgeting me... irritating me...
such the atom: like the letter abounding
around them...
it's nothing special... it's just: fudge...
and a simple metaphor of concrete and
indigestion to have to... endure...
gorge... digest...

                i'm bored of christianity
because of the ruling "christianity" of h'america...
back to basics: son of sam...
thank god for the atlantic ocean...
some distance... some perspective...
evangelical: denominations of old world
protestantism...
no... all the basics of:
looking at women with "fun" prospects...
joy... what about the joy of a bicycle...
it's like ******* retards claiming:
casper the friendly ghosts and
spiderman were touch-up buddies to sooth...

thank you h'america... send me back
to afghanistan... and pashtun womens' poetry...
too many minutes spent on this insomnia footprint
of the web: i still believe a t.v. and a computer
and internet access should be akin
to resembling a fireplace... fixed locations...
no?
i don't actually mind:
eating a burger and getting a blockjob
like driving a car...
on a smooth motorway...
try the same... and giggling... on horseback...

if i could gonvern myself to establish a matrix
of prayer - rummagings of a lacklustre
of schiphrenia - perhaps...
for all the freedoms "imposed":
and not imposed - shimmy shimmy -
and all that isn't received as: to pass...
restrictions galore...
the smooth shake-me-up...
secular: testicular clean shaven *******
tip of luck when licked: etc.

           yeah... yeah: sign me up for that...
pedestrian safehaven!
the promises of science...
                  the christian day to day...
and the... straitjacket of islam...
or... or... prop-er... PWOPH-EER "judeo-christian":
and some salty Cicero...
and some pepper stiff 'istotle!
                  
   love is... love is: pseudo-echo: his eyes...
and all the little idiosyncracies still alive in me:
that makes me focus on me:
and not on... the expendable you...
     all i want is to focus on these details
without having to infringe on: detailing you...
to what...
                impaled... which has to be
more insufferable than a crucifixion...
but... let's not mind that...

              the detail comes around with:
the civic world is a world that the ancient
romans laid a claim on...
the rest? that the romans didn't lay...
a claim on? fifth partition of poland...
a ****** job over the "question" of iraq...
i'm not this "white" ****-boy's boor...
but that i am: since i'm not his baron.

- all that bob woodward & carl bernstein
achieved... deep-throat alias
of that ninja in m.g.s. PSI...
but what i included... but what jonathan landay
and warren strobel couldn't...
it breaks, the "heart"...
or at least the mind... capable of...

- honestly... i never much appreciated
rembrandt...
but... what wouldn't... otherwise...
a sobering-up sessions of sitting on the edge
of the bed do... otherwise:
better good... than the thus presented...
than... hang-over... looking at prints
of the aging rembrandt...
no... not the zenith... the impeding
nadir...

          would it still be necessary for me
to ingest from l.s.d.?
the lazy strokes of grace-
any other adjective of pompous
sycophancy is open: though... to be added...
no... not because his a well known name...
but because: i never found the sort of
raw beef: or the sort of stomach...

the question of the "question"...
within the realms of the diaspora...
that's a hard "question"...
given the diaspora is... a status quo that...
look at the orthodox yids / hebs
of brooklyn...
they're not leaving and brooklyn isn't...
either... the question of a people
without a diaspora...
is still only a "question"...
like that: MADE IN CHINA... "question"...
i still haved things in my possession that have...
MADE IN HOLLAND...
MADE IN INDIA... MADE IN IRELAND...
hell... even MADE IN BANGLADESH
makes you believe in a higher quality than...
all that CHeap CHequers ***** from
the land of BING JING... and the squirming
dwagon...

ask any thai or any... the chinese are not
the best parts of h'america...
and the worst parts of russia...
and... all the rest: reincarnated horde motto:
mongol...
joke... stinking camel jockeys will
not touch a squat of pork for fear
of the silk road mafia:
yow-eatz the stinking sheepz...
me eatz pork & leather
    me eatz pork & leather...
                                     shoe?! shoe?!

shrimp **** gets a hard-on and there's no
mushroom saxon esq. 1960s mantra...
of toll culture!
               well: shrimp **** is hardly:
a korean sand-bag or a piece of japanese
porcelain skin... whiter than porky-pink
gets handled by haggling over Libya...
and the Spanish... sun... tan!
- it's a good nuance though...
given that... all of the baltic sushi is
ascribed the status of: herring herring herring;
raw... yes... in a gherkin infused
cream... creamy dreams of a less robotic...
less stockholm syndrome... Stockholm...
the museum of the tomb of the Vasa ship...
and all those yachts...
seeing Stockholm... no need to see Oslo...
Helsinki... Copenhagen... seeing St. Petersburg...
i really... really need to see Istambul;
smoled salmon... rye bread...
mayonnaise... cucumber... dill...
rainbow trout caviar...
it would be a luxury... caviar...
if everyone was willing to eat it...
but... given the price... only a few could...
caviar would be a yacht symbol of richness...
no... you want a better summary?
caviar is... marmite...
you either love it... or hate it...
everyone almost everyone:
the greater majority... can stomach...
poultry abortions...
caviar is not a luxury... it's an idiosyncracy;
there's no "acquired" taste...
it's something akin to: the web architecture
a priori in the confines of
'ed... of the spider...
or how... the woodland pigeon builds
a nest... "from thin air"...

             learning to walk...
is so class-A drug... bourgeoisie...
                perhaps there was a russian revolution...
perhaps there was the industrial revolution...
all in all: there was only the french revolution.

i meddled in egypt a third time,
and all i said was...
a. you ancestors will say the same thing
i said, but unlike me
your ancestors will say it unto you, directly;
b. never meddle in the affairs of female
genitalia of poetics of the burning bush / *****;
c. you were given judaism, christianity,
islam... instead you settled for mongol;
d. begin to believe
that riyadh is further east than expected,
as is the warsaw pact closer to the west
than the right blink of the eye of john paul ii,
FOR, I, WOULD, REMAIN, ENTICED, BY, A,
HOMELAND, I, RATHER,
THAN, TAKE, OFFERS, OF, A, SAXON, TO, EMIGRATE,
I’D, DRENCH, MY, HOMELAND, IN, BLOODED, NILE,
TO, SEE, THE, WAKE, OF, MY, THOUGHT, ELSEWHERE,
OTHER, THAN, THERE... HAR COO! JANISSARY OF VIENNA,
signed the he of whom read the book above all other books,
who wrote against the book poetry,
who wept, who liberated the eye from the mind
and endeared it with a heart,
of the slave kept captive in solemnity
for the once thought of encryption of the eunuchs,
of those who read but dared not speak,
who thus was made the claimant of the title:
the bridge over the waters of Bosporus... that kindled
the turkmen with the ottoman and the mamluk sheiks.
indeed what pretty cauliflower for a daffodil in hymn...
but lessened beauty if one should come untamed and hooded
in footstep of being recognised -
then the merchant’s (muhammad’s) price would be less
than that of an antique dealer.

of said god, can't i complicate language to the point where it can even remotely contrast with some science? i just want to explain an antithesis of language having the cursor, torjan horse character of being useful... for one thing only: some exploit. can't language become as complex as the person, that language can only become complex with a person throwing themselves into some activity, and subsequently abstracting language, for the basis of per se? i can't use language to define the need for the concept of debt... or... money... mythical beasts akin to the Minotaur? sure, they pass my gaze almost everyday... could it ever not be a case of one instance, that applies complexity to language per se, rather than as language with complete utilisation in a nieche subject area? surely if there was no language per se mechanisation of someone thinking about it, there would also be no dyslexia... language as a per se complexity doesn't require specific areas of interest to "complicate" it further: hands already do what hands are capable of... rarely do tongues turn into egos that later hands are capable of when practising table manners; or for that matter... seeking audience in a parliament; can't language be complex for the basis of per se? evidently some of us would like for language to have this element when it is concerned... couldn't the language's per se then be nothing less than a cursor, or a motivational factor, to upkeep it, to invoke a survival instinct, to continue using it? indeed, philosophers speak of the term per se, or clarifying it with the noumenon.... the same is true for poets, and metaphor; you put something in it, something else comes out, notably counter to your original expectation.

i once brought a hedgehog home
and showed it to my cat,
like when i built a theme park for a mouse
i was chasing for my girlfriend to
see, dangling it by the tail once caught,
to later see the mouse commit suicide,
running off the stairs in an Edinburgh tenement...
in a bedroom, a whole theme park
of worth sketch, the dire death of thrill
seekers, subsequently happened (as that i am,
quick to tango to the song Beorn);

   call it: language as not intended to give
instructions... not adept to caste concepts...
        language as something appropriating
experimenting with lysergic acid...
     i never cared to write my knot of language
as if it might make someone else
        use their limbs... put up a table...
last time i checked, language wasn't about
being oppressive...

i once owned a jaculus jaculus...
   this ugly ******* told me that if i dropped
it from a height it would survive...
i dropped it, and the joke subsequently went:
the parachute didn't open...
    the trauma seems to have bloomed...
right about not people can stop talking
or have anything meaningful to say to me...
it's not that i'm pretending to be deaf,
i'm just deaf concerning what they have to say...
just so happens: if the devil isn't listening
then there's no need for a god either.

these moments! these moments are real!
they're the only things that matter...
and when they shout
allahu akbar, is saddens me,
because i swear i just learnt
the *shahada of la ilaha il allah...
only by heart's command,
and do, what only the heart cares to will...
for then you will something
meaningful, and so much less ordinary...
or just allow a Turk to speak...
and a Mamluk to listen...
we have to borrow from history,
to actually address it, keep it, face up to it...
existentialist philosophers are thieves,
Judases...
          we need no "    " zoo to teach us
the second lesson of acquring words
and having no mathematic clarity,
   so it's all left on the care for flimsy...
and only a turk, can say the word
shaitan to then see me weep...
it just so happens, that you can write
something and cry over it...
         and the people, and the world,
and all that heidegger *******,
simply becomes: a hush....
         it just dies off, it a symphony with
a deaf person "peering" into it,
instead the sound of a violin,
all he gets is wet ****... and sloppy ****
for seconds...
or a blind man asking for glasses when
reading homer...
                i'd love to pity them,
but our culture has too much concern
for stating a delay in sympathy,
and too little, immediate empathy...
   i don't cry because i'm unhappy,
i cry because of the memories i have,
and that's what's sad... well... "sad"...
i listen to a kultur shock akin to
zumbul, shaitan and sarajevo,
and i weep...
              the myth goes,
had the devil a limb to stretch out,
the forbidden fruit of eden would
have been his heart:
you give people an apple, they come back
with cider... so what's new?
oh man, and in need of a fathered stock...
boundless in your neglect,
   perpetuating your fore
    by ascribing so much onto abandon
and: isn't oliver twist just as much a myth
as god?
            what, then, mana?
some deeply desired energy that eventually
alienates you from others?
           if language can be anything,
it can at least leave you reading something
that has no need to instruct...
                 back in the 1960s they took too many
drugs and wrote too much about them...
now that psychadelic drug experiments
having a running narrative, what's the point,
of even taking them? i'm part of the dodo project,
and i wish those hippies didn't write so much
about their experiences....
  it sorta makes me not want to have the experiences,
how they defiled the original premise,
hiow god (words), shouldn't be grounded in these
trans- experiences...
               oh ****, have then, take those cactus extracts...
but please don't write about them!
that's precisely me, reinventing drunk...
   watching billions with only one eye
open... because if i look at the t.v. with
two eyes i'm dazed, swimming under water,
who the **** turned on this carousel?!
    i so wish they had their beat generation moments
and didn't exploit to have to write about
psychedelic drungs...
    i'd like to have taken them...
             now i can't...
  i'll be paranoid when i'm unable to write a poem
about the experience... back to drunk me...
turning panicky watching a television with
only one eye open to stop the imitation "dizzy";
might as well be a fish in water...
     mate, what a bother...
      i rarely experience being drunk...
           but when i do i know that impromptu cyclops
allows you to concentrate on a t.v.,
and nothing is really spinning.

.a man dies and whoever remains: become to intolerable - no one is willing to achieve a former status quo but life demands a status quo of sorts... that now there's a dragging sensation: a drawing toward the grave - how death beams illuminating while it eats memory and strikes at the bells of: what was, now impossible... otherwise: caricature since now and caricature culminating with now... a man dies and whoever remains so intolerable: how would it sound sacrificing my body to the memory of the sea - how strategic, little man... man of consequence and of no little to begin with... my words less than tabloid smearing: my words less than the purpose and worth of butter on a piece of bread: yes... i smear ink into phonetically encoded shapes - letters - are a reminder: for the canvas of toast and too boot: some butter to spread... collateral: always this collateral - free thinking basic structures and the great trampling - a levelling that is the antithesis of former explorer guises - to have to uproot and to deface to have to "revise": to actually keep going "somewhere"... not "i": either a kleptomaniac or a hoarder of history... unless we start stacking all things measured to heave high, high... with our past to overshadow mountains... such "things" we have allowed ourselves to keep... to have cherish so: yet to have it scrutinised too and sold off so cheap... before the bravado of authentic objectivity: or some other wording... a suddenly died... i was wishing this for him... not this supposed brainless ol' ****, ol' alcoholic the same ******* excuses with that woman! burdensome leech... the same ******* excuses with this zombie-esque woman: this... "grandma"... i'm not here to make "friends" with this language: i know of people who have managed far more worse with it! thank you, very much! i'm not above settling seances with grief: if he only died authentically with a barely tolerable voice from the other side... but all these 3 months of secrecy... and all these scraps of money to concern oneself with: grandma... *****... now it's all about coordinating a re-orientating reproach on the matter... life so cheaply... "finished"? and she "thought" it necessary to bring god into the whole equation: that god might allow such awkward gesticulation for the body to endure... princess unicorn no less... spoke such honey coating bundles of lies... she still thinks the lie was spoken as if staged... as if she forgot her lines... the rot and the fermentation process needs to sink in... after all... the grandiosity of the event already happened... a supermarket cashier inquired as to why i was so dressed... a funeral attendee... 'was it a nice send off'... oh sure sure... a nicely packaged prize come to think of it: the corpse left some stamps... so... no problem... but how cruel the immediacy of a family member... i thank the ******* of an egyptian deity that i didn't invest in the purpose of family... i am certain of a painful death... a lonely death: or rather - a death with the world... not this... inheritance vultures... he didn't leave anything to be contested!  well... he might have... but i already have what no one else thought of as important... his stamp collection... what would have been better? a collection of pornographic magazines? ***** please... i wasn't expecting this from my grandmother: i was already towing baggage from a friendship... but this is just... the ultimate purpose of pessimism... to hell with stoicism... and all those words used for peacocking arguments... i'm chopping raw hind of a bull... i'm plucking out eyes from fish... i'm... doing my last, probably only interlude of thought before the agony of fire strips me back to the basics of passions and an ****** of pure, pain of conversation: detailing the withholding of truths by a bad liar... by a ******* phlegm of a pleb sort of culmination... more n.p.c.: but somehow still my own trajectory, here, "nuanced": now... shellshocked - blitzkrieg antics... after the funeral her envy for adolf ****** was so ******* pronounced: yeah... imagine my face... a stone somewhere was smiling with glee... because this has to absolutely make no... ******* sense! she calls a day prior to the death... she doesn't call a week prior: she calls when it is in the hands of the hospice folk to bring the agonia to a close... she decides to call a day prior to the death and on the day of the death... 3 months just escaped her... this is a woman who supposedly has a grandson... em... yeah... how do those lyrics sound like now: ***** tricks done dirt cheap... this is only banal evil... bored evil... i just remember all the verbal insults against him... at least i can celebrate him not hearing them ever again... oh yeah... and the h'american election happened... please... can this political enthusiasts bother someone else with their insomnia... 3/4 of the world is sleeping... it's not that important that, or anything new... come spring after winter, summer and back toward autumn... it was nothing new that democracy is what it is... a casino of telling the most ****** lie... he pushed the epitaph concerning the necropolis mingling with democracy... in manus tuas... he said the only democracy was the democracy the dead would revel in... i need to call her up and tell her... that she needs to include an epitaph on his grave... fiat lux let light be made)! or floruit (one flourished)... genius loci (spirit of the place)... habeas corpus (you may have the body)... i like this last one... most! a fitting epitaph to write on a grave... n'est ce-pas?! habeas corpus ad subjiciendum.

well d'uh: no brainer...
i got to say goodbye to a corpse...
and that's always better
than saying goodbye
to an urn of ash...
and boy... if ol' granny decided
to fulfill the wishes of
her deawest deawest son
and had him turned into
a bowl of ask the ash:
and i didn't get to see him...
all suited and booted up
for the ceremony...
my god... the day you see
a corpse in an open coffin...
days old...
and you have anything
remotely fear: insinuated...
about... taking a casual
walk in a graveyard at night:
or in a forest...
i'm still dreaming cyclops:
i am not some
appeased dream architect:
i'm dreaming void...
a grandiose wound:
a yawning abyss...
a corpse in an open coffin...
in one of those prosectorium
waiting rooms...
where the tiles are not
that kind of: medicine proof green
of a post-mortem dissection...
they're woven from
white through to a darkening:
grey thoroughly...
oh hell... it's fun...
seeing a dead body like that:
it elevates the "beauty"
of what's casually a mere:
script at the end of a film...
sun, truck, lampost...
fox's worth of road-****...
the unlucky woodland pigeon
that miraculously died
mid-flight and wasn't seen
roosting for miles
on a pavement...
it's beyond sobering...
since you know all the requirements
to have paid the attention to detail to:
when there was a soul:
and now... given the absence
of the sigma of animation /
the sum of animation...
the heart can rot on its own,
the liver the kidneys...
it's not like there's anything
pulling all of his materialistic wizardy
by the *****...
seeing that...
and then come night, the solace
of solitude...
a forest or a graveyard...
i've come across scarier places...
living rooms of strangers...
in all honesty:
these chicken shacks of
bad actors in general...
a walking on stilts when telling
a blatancy of a lie...
now my comforts are
"criminal" / certainly counter-
to whatever bias could
come prior...
hardly one of those tim burton
hard-ons for the gothic and
quirky!
that i wish my grandmother
a speedy ****-off because
she had 3 months to tell me and "us"
what's what
but who the **** calls and speaks
of a death a day prior
then a day later... the death...
3 months of a descent!
well... lucky me that i got to say
goodbye to a ******* corpse:
not the still living ******* my pampers
momentary lapse of
lucid recollection...
and this world has to:
terribly, somehow, also, happen...
and its like this coincidental
metaphor for: the centre cannot hold...
yes, come the big world:
some mythological granny **** of
the blonde...
but hey... it's ava lauren in a suit:
and to boot: booted...
karmalaiah 'arris...
and you're like:
whittle 'ichard primo...
i'm already on the dumpster with me:
blood first arguments sinking
a blind eye and grizzle tooth load...
before i even allowed myself
to take a bite...
******* geocentric carousels of
north/east/south/west:
the one acronym: prior to
the methodology of the h'american:
scotus etc. luvvie-dubby
for the acronym chant: u/s/a!
yeah, case closed... let's pretend
how tomorrow unfolds...
by 1am i'll be a sleep-walking
slinky... toss the cards...
the grand-picture...
the world is not some forthcoming
as to allow... both engagements
and sympathy:
the immediately available response
is all reflexive: **** reaction
scream! oooh! ah!
           sooner i'll be allowed
to contemplate an indigestion "problem"
than a death of a would be patriarch...
then again:
you always marry into the woman' family...
thee sorry old story
of leaving your parents in
the gutter... your new father:
in-law: god bless his soul...
you ******* cleaving *****-worth-of
an-itching-monkey!
you! turnip quasi
aladdin's paladin and magic
carpet ride...
she allowed me to see
the corpse... 3 months: not a word...
and here are these...
puppets... bemoaning how unidealic
love forever is...
solvd me the question of
what love is:
this bogus cwy-baby pseudo:
irksome welsh "sympathy":
******* cwy-cwy: trill your
******* R!
tarantula bit you you can't start
a rolling escapade
with a tongue?
you some O'Haera or too drunk
too soiled to notice Irish?
let's just, hope... i...
haven't... the capacity to express
an authenticity of sorrow:
tilting on: "properly" with the:
authorities of who's to, read, what!
out of their own pockets:
it's... ******* free last time i heard!
question of bias...
this slap of meat:
will become either a plum poke tenderness...
or a brussel pate....
like they do in the prisons...
notably the russians...
they inject vaseline between
their knuckles... so they build
up a... pouch-of-a-fist...
no... oh no adrenaline shots... none
of the fairy liquid:
dandelions speak we dust it over
with unicorn horn dust...
n'ah... none of that...
it's my grandmother: i probably
should have not expected as little
as this... but then i like the idea
of her keeping up with
ghost theory...
she can haunt the castle
of her **** for: however more
concern for life is in her...
granny can *******, and how...
i might have... favoured her...
when she did... cwy... there's that welsh
spelling again...
but not come the advent of
a, death... take me up on seeing scenery with
you... any day: or the 3 months prior...
but... this...
of course: the limitations
of the conscience of liars:
you start to blame yourself:
oh why didn't... call...
you have to blame yourself:
she's not going to blame anything or anyone:
there are no exceptions to the rule:
thumbs galore!
seeing his corpse:
he did die...
having... kept...
an immaculate proof of fingernails...
an immaculate proof of fingernails
being kept: as swiss passport for an agreeable
handshake...
again: once more...
ask me tomorrow
and i'll reply likewise:
granny can die... if i ever see my
shadow fleeing:
that! i'll sooner mourn!
you would expect:
grannies are tender loving creatures...
unless my grandfather wasn't
a somewhat tamed lover of
keeping books... a philatelist... too...
i got it!
he just wasn't a don juan *******
philander of an unlimited access to:
***** liquor!
whatever the story:
there's just enough desired
discretion to pay homage and defend
the passing party...

both a philander and a philatelist?
what's next?
a zoologist and a d.j.?
i've ascribed myself an audience
with prostitutes:
the 3 Ps... priests... psychiatrists...
prostitutes...
in the current climate...
who's body's who?
i am mild mannered enough to know
that i'll be paying for a ****
rather than a free meal or a professional:
waggling of the tongue:
let alone the placebo of the corpus christi
*******... n'est ce pas?

yeah... just prescribe
me the ******* of the bull of Titian...
etc.
i'm sure to make enough
skin out of it for a Muhammed's rug
ed gein esque piece of:
fidgety: ain't it? unshaked ******* sack?
**** it... almost grainy...
stubble prone... begs the knees to question:
wha' and w-i-i?

unshackled extension of patterns
of predictable behaviour:
moi! contra ol' granny?!
shouldn't i have... none?
  n'ah: let us play the allowed game
of psychopathy...
who's watching, anyway?
it's not like we're going to sing a song...
a tiny little song in the centre
of the earth... wiener blut...
and what happened within the confines
of the fritzl case:
circus of horrors readied as freely
available bread! corpus... christi!

        by the looks of it...
there was ever only one individual
sentenced to undergo the torture
of being crucified..
only 'im alone... psychopath uno!
and i am... to mea culpa this sort
of *******?!
i would cling to islam as a janissary sooner
than i might clip a sheep's worth
of wool...
i don't like this sadomasochism...
no... i like the shape of my own shadow:
but how the hebrews and the greeks
will pursue: even being the toursits
come auschwitz! this shadow
of the cross..

i am a sheep attired in wolf-skins...
i sheepeople blah blah from time
to time...
who are you? who am i?!
ha!
i sometimes think of myself
as balaam... sometimes nero...
as ever... konrad von wallenrod!
in the hindu circus of reincarnation!
am i... ahem... not... allowed?!
i take to grimmace:
by the body entomped:
one soul "sold"...

granny can ******* nonetheless...
i belong elsewhere to start the argument:
ex nihil!
to praise looking for a raving
lunatic with too many words
in his mouth...
i think that's where "i think" coincides itself
for an ulterior purpose:
i suppose i breathe...
i propose that i also eat!
scraps of meat...
salted pork... works miracles
with the miracle men of the crescent moon!
as does the "excess" skin
of ******...
not that i would sacrifice my ******* *******
so easily...
i need to pretend to shake hands with
ghosts: forever...

oh you can have my tonsure my kippah:
prior to my *******...
any excess skin concerning the ****?!
ha ha!
i just want to make sure!
you... never... grit...
actually... can... ever... know...
who's playing who's game...
being so blatantly pass... arrogant...
with one's lies?!

i believe the horde... i believe the herd...
i'm yet: i am utmost...
questioning... the little... incy-wincy... spider...
details of... consceince unravelled...

yes: the universal percentage detail:
translates back toward all subjectivities!
a fraction of objectivity: 0.01%
will later govern all the subjectivities of
the 99.99: thus proclaimed:
sterile grieves!

how well connected are we: aren't we?!
we hope to suppose:
and a neighbour allows...
not that we: we just... bungie-jump
into a ***** of the social contract!
no one is readied for this side-project
of society...
oh... wait... the police are policing
hate crimes of "hate speech"...
**** it... ****... pillage...
the balkan states are ripe for an
ottoman takeover...
was i about to blink to imitate...
nodding?!

yet as much as i might sway with
a phatom lady:
upon pretending to toy with a tango:
my toes are replica shrapel toys
with the toils of grip:
my little details... at best
my least bitten-into toenails...
             how about i grow a beard
of a goat's concern...
or grace a camel with a metaphor
of a needle...

this one hebrew is by no means
a noah: i... have to... pretend a martin luther...
they have their ****** tel aviv and israel!
what's not to "like":
h'america?
isn't that project of inquiry
burning it solid last in a ******* toaster
of mc and o'
                     celtic broods concerning
who's to divide up Boston?

the jews have their: recovered land:
i'm sure they can take back
their prized tool of converting
the northern folk with them:
it's not like the polish concenctation camps
ever gave them the *****...
because... no! oh no!
the germans didn't know about them!
yiddish wasn't born into german...
it was also and always this:
pan-slavic gensture of:
will you please integrate:

well hello sheepeople!
  you almost were deserving this
congregative... charm...
            no offence... time the conquest
of france... and the... french resitance...
yeah... once the germans and the russians
came simultaneously...
to carve up...

like charles bukowski said:
the trannies, the gays and the jews
have all relevants "things" to say...
they're the power brokers...
we're just the imbecile:
ant esque drones...
trained monkeys...
    'becile crispness of the tongs...
leisuring wet brass...

we allow people such ghostly firaments
of purpose beyond their expected
concern for a grave:
we allow their little besooth lying...
how cheap and zombie-esque they have
to become: grandma in tow...
even these closest to us...

it's like we are forever tugging
a warring: total...
never helped by a prospect of calm...
forever from those closest to us...
b'ah!
take it from us from the most 3rd party
sincere...
there's hope:
you will never have to heave
to be expected to...

can i tell christ to *******?
no... he's not welcome!
if i have to use muslims for the task:
i'll happily be "coincident" -
test the role
myself via the roles of
janissaary or mamluk...

honestly? what can christianity offer me?
an aching pagan ritual hope
of an ailing translation of heaving?
who? the congregation
hybrid?
      no... scrificial lamb
on the satire of shadow with a cross...
come the mongol teasing
the mountain of skulls of baghdad:
and... england is still a place where
a shakespeare or a dickness is to be born...

me? i very much like the romance
of staging a janissaary or a mamluk
prospect...
who's dead and who:
looks like...
whittle ol' grandma
can *******: be on her way...
sooner my shadow runs off with
the sunrise than i might giver a shitload
of care: she could have prescribed me...
when alt-vater was breathing his last...
yes...
because hemarrhoids and periods
were... forever alien to us!

you mature when petting cats... oddly enough, dogs only teach you more routine; owning a cat can make you forget that you even own a cat... it's like misplacing your house keys, and they boomerang back into your concern for them when they need something... namely you... it's completely quantum physics... do i even own a cat? don't know... next times i hear a meow, or sniff a bit of cat-****, i'll let you know.

i also like to call it: in imitation of the crow..
those black shapes perched on t.v. antennas...
just so it feels like i'm an arch,
a shadow... to toy with feeling
being *brooding... or... let's just say listening
to pop was never as difficult,
as it is now and to feel no shame...
people are more eager to discuss doing
*****-strap-on **** than say
they can succumb to the anaesthetic of
certain pop songs... so...
perched on a windowsill
in turkish akimbo -
part of me was always going to
be mamluk in how i approached
islam.... was there a bias to begin with?
perched and hooded and partially drunk
in a void-thought stupor, "acting" -
as a crow might, looking for romance...
typing at a pace that outpaces
a doctor... pecking at a keyboard...
index, peck, index, peck, index, left hand peck...
plenty of breadcrumbs where that **** came from?
in england they call paracetamol the
universal drug... cures all ills...
babe, i spent over 20 years in england
and i had to rent out a bulgar's
*****... you ain't the only delicacy
worth buying oysters for... ugh, i hate this type
of language, it reminds me of things
i should have forgotten...
   too many celts about... anyway...
but it was a fine balancing act
on the windowsill...
drunk, void, listening to pop...
   and there are soundtracks for
the afternoon, beginning with adelle...
you sort of turn into marble...
and then the odd "nervous" twitch
when you forget consciousness
   perched as you are, like a crow aching
for the opera singers to get flowers thrown at them
and, finally bow... to applause...
                  and you exit the statue pose...
   even i get as finicky as animals
wanting to say so much less:
like the animals in want of saying so much more...
i know a cat meows and wants
so much more to be said, but doesn't...
while i say too much, when in fact i want
to say only as much as the σ meow...
           and it's almost a game of intuition
when investigating animals
and that constant eye-contact to open
doors: we're almost dealing with the concept
of royalty!
or what you do with flints... sharpen them!
and i know how i'm **** schizoi that way,
and rarely but sometimes seeing a lucid
future of a **** sapiens that i like
looking into and try figuring out at becoming...
             natural divisions...
they say...
say: naturally we are math proof
to exceed in practicing it... and then dumb-look lockdown
with the word toward the heavens with head askew: huh?
no honey, tangens... a firm **** take on tragedy.
   i see them all the time, sometimes
a kestrel perches on my fence, sometimes i see crows
staging their right for authority
by picking on: search engine insert:
  bird knuckled neck perch pond...
how i remember...
****! that baking butter! stork!
yep, i can be the one witnessing the fact
that crows can attack storks!
   i just meant bent neck...
so, hum... huh huh... elvis ready...
hmph... thrill seeking, or what the french
called: finally the english, without
a stiff upper lip...
   try elvis, or how democracy is only
democracy with a history,
and quiet a lot of dead examples...
that need more resuscitation than
reincarnation... funny thing with english:
i never seem to hear it "correctly"...
american english is too nasal,
they're knitting spaghetti like wool into socks...
kluściaże...
**** me! heaven descends!
just with that, heaven made it apparent...
distinct syllables!
no games, no enligsh,
if nasal american, then overly glottal english
in the original,
   like talking with your mouth full of food...
if i'm being intimidating,
please forget me,
i once talked with a ******* addict
and she kept me interested by talking
about a lighbulb... and how to not fake
a vitamin D deficiency... like that russian girl
who said: a true sign of aristocracy is to
not ever engage in taking to sun-tans...
so all the essex suntan palours will go bankrupt
and we'll have to import oranges,
and then scrape off the zest
  and scrub it into our skin so we can look
proper Hindi, given our diet... of vindalu...
****-smearing, and gaff... those chillies in..
oh the agony, to think that the turks
pickle them and serve them in kebabs...
the agony!
          comedy and horror... the two should
never meet... thankfully they do...
                  poetry as imitation of tranquiliser...
         as a language:
english and it's ****** shrapnel of conjunctions
and pronoun disputes...
             kinda like thinking about how easily
english can become idiosyncratic
and slang, and slurr...
      it's the equivalent of a ******* drug...
i.e. an existential **** expression...
                              ah, hence the colonialism history...
well.. if i had distinct syllable indicators
that other european languages use (i.e. diacritics):
i wouldn't be speaking all acronym...
finally! the internet proved that talk is cheap...
'cos' everyone just keeps talking!
    and thankfully i just like looking at this crap
than have the throth to take it to and speak it
at a market-place, when i should have been selling bananas.

anyone who has been in this position
will tell you:
              when you start reading philosophy
books, well...
   there's not much a psychologist
or a psychiatrist can really help you with...
after all: psychology is pop philosophy,
it's an off-shoot of philosophy,
       and that's not some pompous
affirmation of the subject matter,
            it just is, what it is,
                 blatantly it's rather problematic,
if the h'american education system
introduces philosophy in high school...
you should really discover philosophy
aged 21, at least 21...
        hell, alcohol and *** can come before,
as they naturally will...
but i have a sharp aversion with regards
to teaching teenagers any philosophy...
again: what an over-used term:
   "philosophy" - esp. in the climate
of self-help gurus...
                  philosophy is not a subject
that fixes ****... it complicates life...
   and when life is already complicated:
the only aid is to at least
fortify your mind...
                     rarely a life uncomplicated
with an uncomplicated mind...
but such life exists...
  nonetheless...
                  these days philosophy lies
in the shallow grave of psychology...
                 psychology just seems to be
a pursuit, a cascade of schematism,
    oh yes... schematism...
           schematism is the new scholasticism,
on note, that medieval system becomes
more and more appealing...
   without jumping to any conclusions...
hard to pick up random facts,
unshakeable facts for a befitting narrative...
i mean, the usual suspects are there:
the big bang, darwinism, world war II...
but there is no "real" narrative
      for so many of us...
                        unless from mouth to mouth...
but from a mouth you've never heard
speak?
          a distant voice that has no power
to resonate?
                 in my hands i hold two books...
history of germany 1918 - 2000...
           modern history is so dry...
                      people in this book are so
unimportant upon a retrospective reading,
even ****** is akin to a dwarf...
    since the "concern" is germany...
             history books, a great genre,
when dealing with individuals,
    esp. medieval individuals...
       for what is history?
                         an incremental seduction
by minor events toward a memorable
crux, a single: outstanding culmination
zenith / sigma...
                           the summa summarum
of here and now.
   will it be considered "****" to have
a fetish for the german tongue,
after all, west saxon, english,
   is the offspring of altmanndeutsche
(would i have a fetish for russian?
   i don't think so, i'm too entwined in english)
alles in allem auf hier und jetzt...
    again: heidegger's dasein seems to be
forward looking: rather than inward looking...

so, in my other hand?
     jim bradbury's biography of...
    philip augustus: king of france 1180 - 1223...
a mighty book... but more a mighty person
invoked...

what is to justify man's desire for happiness,
for the content life?
                        the more i ever felt the relief
of a contentment with life:
         the more it passed me by,
                     i was more or less asleep than
awake.

         eh! the current canvas of history via
the mainstream application bores me,
jumping between the two genesēs of
the big bang (yeah, in a vacuum, good luck
playing a violin up there,
with someone reciprocrating what
eventually looks like a mime) and darwinism...
it's congesting: custard for a brain -
      vanillesoße zum ein(e) gehirn -
out of the blue, a question -
    is it the same in german as in english,
regarding the indefinite article?
        i.e. a tree
                        an amber stone
         ein gehrin
                 or eine gehrin,
         the grapheme question...
  are two vowels allowed to mingle again?
   i.e.               æmblem
                       well... doesn't that become
a directive? an indirect article composed
of itself and a noun becomes definitive,
a definite article? as far as i'm aware...
there are no consonant graphemes...
sure... you can have SZ (SH) reduced to
a caron S (hiding the Z like a hebrew
might hide a vowel) i.e. Š...
                                       just a thought...

funny that... after my first psychotic
trip (mild drug, marijuana, so hardly
a point breaker) - i once studied chemistry,
i was semi-good at mathematics...
but then... my language skills / interests
exploded...
                     it became and has remained
a fixation...

  mind you, if you're still in high school
and are taking up majors,
and are thinking about furthering your
language skills?
               flat chance of you achieving
your satisfaction taking pure english lessons...
i took history...
     and history? well, you're still taking
an english major, but a major in a science,
at least all the history books have
a gratifying narrative...
              but in terms of history per se?
etymology...
                 how words arrived,
and how words morphed...
         guilty! i like to confine myself
to the sort of history i find to be bound
to a comprehesive retreat...
           big **** darwinism and all its
regressive ontological tactic of explanation
is one thing, the big bang is another thing
also...
               but at least i can return
to the history span that begins,
   and ends... with phonetic encoding...
the birth of thought,
when you could begin to shut up
without an empty bath's worth of the head,
but all the plastic ducks and foam
in your head, and itchy finger tips...
greedy buggers who could only be
satisfied with an alphabet,
and puzzles of words, and later sentences...

just give me a bottle of whiskey,
a decent album (akin to wooden shjips V)
and i'll sing like the kind of sparrow
you only hear at night...

and all this current ******* of "m'ah opinion",
my opinion this, my opinion that,
that "grand" constructions,
             surely it would be easier for
the phallus to find a ******
     than a tongue to find the dialectical
insertion point of the whole "my" opinion...
well, not really, every time i think of the act,
i always found the insert point
to be below my original intent,
what with women having
   to seemingly parallel coccyx bones
either side of their pelvis...
            the frontal deceptive coccyx
bone just above the v'ah-g-g...
            eh... amateur... even with prostitutes...
but this whole: it's my opinion!
it's my opinion! well, you'd be hopeful
to entertain a dialectic also,
apparently that's not the case:
give, "my" opinion insinuates:
     it cannot be debated, it cannot be changed,
no other person can entertain it,
what a primitive defence mechanism...
even poisonous frogs have
a better defence mechanism...
            again: i don't really own anything
in this world,
   i'm only guarding it, but i don't own it:
the everyday story of every single
antique...

  again, back into a "critique" of history
as a literary genre,
               i own a few first editions,
     the biography of philip augustus is one
of them: 1998 edition, first,
which is beside the point...
            i'm sure that life in medieval europe
was harsh...
but at least you had peacock characters,
rather than this, moden, bland c.c.t.v.
reality t.v. personalities...
              oh of course modern life
has all the perks... standing in line...
               but there's no way of replacing
an adventurous ambition with
complacency and comfort...
plus, they had such great names!
        peaches geldof (rest in peace)...
peaches?!
               compared to bertran de bron?
joscius?           conrad of montferrat?
  saladin & the ayyubid empire?
       hell, the smaller the tribe,
  the better the name...
             the angevins, the capetians,
the merovingians!
         now?        eh: zee fwench.
boo'ring...
   even a bull wouldn't charge at
the colour red even if you wanted him
to.

again: these days you can rely on
people who know the facts...
   and factoid checking is all we ever do
these days, being always "right"...
facts overshadow the story we're about
to tell...
            a bull charges at head:
because he / it sees a honing pointer
of: there's something "missing"...
              daltonism "vs." protanopia...
i once had a high school fwend who
laughed... at this catholic high school...
purple blazers were yellow to him...
who needs l.s.d. then?

       once again... a medieval history book?
as a genre?
                so many stories...
but there is no a priori factual check
impetus...
     the facts are a posteriori...
  what is a priori? the story...
                          and why wouldn't
philip augustus be overlooked?
given the fwench rhe-vou-lú-çion?!
****! T gone missing! T gone missing!
the H is a surd, but it shoved itself
past the cue, elbows high!      
          
  the battle of bouvines (bou-veens,
or: bou-v'ah)
                     depends...
                how selective we "must" become
to make choices from such
an impossible spectrum of events...
after all... muslims readily cite and remember
the crusades, even to this day...
hush hush the sacking of baghdad by
the mongol horde...
for the library was burned and
the skulls were stacked!
hush hush about the first defeat
of the mongols by the mamluk slaves
in egypt... who weren't mohammedians
to an extent of being slaves...

you almost stand there,
bewildered... what about the jihad
into mongolia...
well at least go and help your brothers
out in Xinjiang and Henan!
why isn't the botherhood attempting
to jidad their way:
jihad with the chinese communist party?

hush hush... let's adore the palm trees
lining avenue des Champs-Élysées...
let's sit back... procreate for a while...
eat the good food...
let's sit back and procreate...
the 2010s was a good year for fear and
tarantulla bite-numbing escapades...
let's just sit and procreate...
let's become lazy... chant with the Tehran
zindiqs ****'ites! deaf to h'america
and we've conquered London and...
just sit back... because... we've earned it...
we have satisfied ourselves with
the blood of the ***** (kuffar)...
allah the almighty will bless us in
our respite concerning those Persian
zindiqs! the people of the desert with but
one book have conquered!

true indeed: where a jihad would be
even deemed "justifiable"...
in cha-cha-china... where muslims are
being persecuted... London! London!
we need more in London...
well this whole: muslim brotherhood
and the whole muhammad ali thing...
malcolm x... only worked...
but this is the chinese doing it to their own...
no need to intervene and bring
the good people back into the ummah...
    
  hush hush, hush hush, hush hush...
cherry picking history, are we?
    well...            let's cherry pick together!
look at this garden of time:
plenty of picks, plenty of beginnings!
at this point: a certain amount of history
can become fiction,
and not in a bad way...
it can become the basis for "studying"
archetypes...
             funny how time treats those
who experience it...
    it mutates them...
                   and to no purpose
of appealing to the general public,
  so much can and has happened in my life:
and yet...
         nothing is worth the curator's knowledge
of commentary,
  the status of laureate:
   i'd sooner be found, bound to the pleasure
of shooting dead ducks floating in
the water with a slig-shot...
       than, whatever, the aspiration for
the post, deserves;
  g.c.s.e. allowed poetics can deal with that...

again:
   why is poetry so overtly scrutinißed?
no one makes so many notes regarding prose...
but then poetry is being analyßed?
out come the scalpels, the weights,
the whole forensic scrutiny!
        10 words are expanded into
a 10,000 word essay...
      gay science my ***...
                   it's the most over-scrutinißed
form of language,
no wonder people are intimidated
by it... who would want to write in a medium
that has so much scrutiny hovering
above it: and no, it's not a ******* halo
or a laurel wreath!

           there's only so much meaning
that can be derived from a sentence,
before the pun, dries out,
  before the metaphor, dries out,
before all these bogus over-stressed
ars poetica identifiers via "technique" become
exhausted, and what you're left with,
is the ancient art of narrative...
  
  yeah, sure sure, i too wish my narrative
"skills" were better...
             i'm streuengehirn...
              if i really wanted to write
a ******* mathematical rubric of:
1 x 1 = 1
1 x 2 = 2
1 x 3 = 3...            i'd be currently writing
a YA vampire romance trilogy...
do i look like someone who's going to write
a YA vampire romance trilogy?!

           eh... back when you could respect
a homosexual akin to william burroughs...
back to a tomorrow's worth of respecting
a homosexual akin to douglas murray...
   or that gay sitcom starring
           ian mckellen & derek jacobi...

                       two old **** talking:
        eloquence and ettiquete...
                     now, that was fun...
i too wish some perv shoved his ****
through my ***, picked up my hands...
and transformed by idle tongue
to present a, stage performance worthy
of an encore...
                             alas...
   given the current climate...
          i'm stuck with the sort of gays
the old gays would probably be ashamed of...
so much for the adventure and
          the... courage... of feeding a pleasure
of "something" going in, rather than coming out...

irritable bowel syndrome from time to time,
i honestly enjoy taking a **** too much,
so much so that i find the male
****** to be overrated.

post- scriptum musing:

favourite past-time?
catching a mosquito by the *****
while wearing boxing gloves.  
  
don't know how drunk doesn't
translate into shy...
or how the former translates
into an antidote for the latter
(&
   also
     bound to italics) somehow...

a fool's idle wondering
equating itself with
all the world
   and the men invested in it:
ambitions, adventures,

            so... who's going to follow
suite in gratifying this "grand"
errand?
             surrounded by unshakeable
cliffs of "knowledge" of facts...
what story is to be told,
without a fear of plagiarißm?
since there is a fear:
it implies... the story is not worth
passing on,
not unless the newly-born arrive
and are born from a foreign
body, not alligned
   to the organic allignement
of continuity...
  pass what may pass...
               once again: arriving
at the jargon babylon deposit of
the fuel for a will to live,
                             as shared universally.

if only with a sense of irony, if that word is
even remotely meaningful anymore -
what you, what is irony?
I was supposed to be writing this an our
early, far far away, in lil Charlie's kingdom
come, or whenever that old hag will
thrown in the towel and hip,
just itching, itchy winking spider starting
spinning a mandala on my rechthand...
fingers begging for the dough
or the copper strings und...
english-german
    english-polish-german...
polish-english-german
          polish-german...
my axis of the beyond,
russian would too be handy,
had not the orthodox Athenians
dug tunnels behind the Roman empire
and moved straight from Greek
to Cyrillic... alas... rigid Latin rubric,
german grammar engineering,
and a slavic hot head for drink,
     plus the Anglican lisp behind
a thespian: Y-tongue serpentine...
                     siamese kiss...
                                   on the 19th April,
jests... a bothersome headache...
the Warsaw ghetto uprising...
   never mind, upon return to Israel,
like and p.t.s.d. baptism, scolded and shunned,
apparently not rubber enough,
not eventually reaching the palms
and date trees of Tel Aviv...
      don't worry... grey Sarajevo was around
the corner, around the corner the deflated
Ottoman...
         to tell the truth: what I inherited
is, perhaps but a ditto, making me nothing
more than a Ditto Eddie...
                    like grating root veg for a clear
soup, instead, floating, murky floodgates
open...
           what are these names,
these mental tattoos supposed to do
to me? at least in England the are but two
dates summarising the 20th century,
11:11:11 (Armistice) and 1966...
                    and that's about the summary
of England, as given by pedagogy...
   only when watching Deutchland '83...
    beauty in the west is achieved by
creating an en masse consent of apathy...
which isn't exactly verbatim...
                    somehow quasi immersed,
a return of an "exiled" 8 year old...
westerplatte isn't exactly the story
  of thermopylae... but give it enough
time and there too will come a window
of necessary myth-making, id est:
exaggeration...
            i am i am a psyche-mongrel...
which transcends whatever the other
mongrel is...
            but the transcendental menu
changes...
   on a side, in philosophy:
in the phenomenological vernicular,
is a nation a phenomenon,
or a Kantian res per se, id est: noumenon?
apparently both...
        the Mongols became a phenomenon
of the golden horde, subsequently
some polished glass fatamorgana
                                      north of Gobi...
flatter than a Parisian pancake...
        a dry horse meat blood drinking boom,
Baghdad gambling houses
               were skulls were thrown with
painted one to sixes, blindly from a bag...
and whenever Islam thinks it stopped
the horde, and didn't assimilate them
into Crimea where Mongol became Tatar...
they'll cite the battle of ain jalut...
    and mamluk becomes synonym with
janissary, meaning,
probably one of those children from that
infamous Stephen of Cloyes expedition...
which I hardly think was a noble cause...
that ******* slave handler of orphans
I can add, to the wheel of Fortune of Dante's
inferno!
              a year from now on whatever
day or month, it will be 75 years from
the next kamikaze expedition...
        sure,  applause,
but on a lesser note...
in a tiny town like this,
come to think of it,
    i'm only 2nd generation urban...
my grandmother was born in the country
(or rather on the Front)
my great-grwndmother (who I still remember)
was born there...
     and you see these remnants,
after all, Ukraine the bread basin of Europe...
after all Poland und der Größer Pyr
    (Posen)...
                     ******* mental grafitti
everywhere, beg to differ if you think you're
walking on eggshells, relics,
      sacred ground, schloß...
    or Hegel's the philosophy of right...
seriously GDR had a problem with Shakespeare
over Marx?
    I have a problem with Marxism being
at once the Liverpool Project co. Engels
and as much, a critique of Hegel's lecture
notes...
I can feel England breathing on my neck,
the relentless misery beyond
the south east, the nibbling, nibbling,
scuttling vividness of the last east end rat
making it to Romford, as spotted
at the bus stop...
   ****... if the rats are leaving London
and moving further afield into Essex County,
what the hell does that tell ya' about Cockneys?
yesterday spring, today:
            these feral lands...
                if you want a sample of Ukraine,
head to the West Warsaw train station ***
bus station... even the signs are written in
Ukrainian...
        but alas, no Polish-Lithuanian romantic
heading to Donetsk...
because how far back does history become
revival,  when nostalgia becomes
less thought + sigh...
        and more... well, the ******* caliph
of Baghdad and the hidden gem miles
from Tripoli?
                            and should you know,
I think Assad is going on the Haj...
just shy off a slap-head, given the shaved
moustache...
                       at what point can we cut off
a the criminality of past events?
well, apparently inheritence is taxable
on two fronts... material goods,
and psst hush hush events of our ancestry...
but history as a criminal act not
perpetrated by future examples of
"said" peoples? mind boggling...
            looks like ol' Jack of Whitechapel,
the ghoul, is more in favour
than your everyday German...
                                       ah, no ancestry,
no inheritance... tax...
                 hence the romance with ol' Jack...
unless you compare that to
the reality of the mechanisation
of serial murders,  their frequency etc etc.,
but history as a crime,
               a little tapeworm spawn lying
dormant in some distant body...
keen whisper says to me...
what if anorexic women were to ingest
a tapeworm...
   how would a tapeworm react to
a body that didn't want to eat?
secrete some hallucinogenic?
after all, the idea is not far from the medieval
ages, and how leeches were used
to drain, bad blood (schlechtblut)...
      for all i know tapeworms are not
feral parasites, not worms in dog insestines...
they're clinal parasites,
like bacteria in yoghurts are clinical...
all it takes is one brave soul
suffering from anorexia to ingest a tapeworm
spawn...
                 evidently a hit and miss,
a parasite will know if the host body
is worth attaching itself to the small insestine wall,
after which, its evolutionary mechanism
will kick in... and the host will be "forced"
to eat...
              and that comes from a cul de sac
idea from a schizophrenic friend of mine...
   he had the delusion of being a tapeworm host...
but... he didn't exactly know what a tapeworm
could be used for... should Europe
return to the Dark Ages barbarism,
and using leeches...
                hey... it wasn't called west,
before it was called wild...
         at least a tapeworm has a mouth
at the head rather than a mouth
in its bellybutton...
                    oddly enough cancer,
that botanical translation with roots
in mistletoe has no known mouth...
pseudo fungus...
                              yes yes, let's play
normies... the antibiotics are just about
to run out... no wild ideas are going to save,
the niche markets of ailments, akin to
anorexia.

i'm only ever after... a cushioning
pillow worth of rest...
to mind the old ghost...
the new shadow...
a jung and his matchstick play-dough
of ego...
an evelyn waugh an edward
hopper... hardly a...
last bearable breath of loitering
empire... and pride...
and... in this language...
the viet-cog-and-cong sort of...
ambush! in... the vicinity of...
the semi-detached jungle
of... there's a name for that sort
of enterprise...
     pride from the "revision" of
empire... when last awake...
the hitch-hiker borrowed from
pearl habour... godzilla loop-holes...
sorry... no... no soppy story...
the connells: 74 / 75...
   kid growing up...
   the beastie boys...
always and forver...
godzilla contra ghidorah...
beastie boys: inter-galactic...
   urotsukidoji ****: whipped cream...
tow: ties...
   this grieves the sentance of
a hong-kong handover...
            come hiroshima...
nagasaki... chernobyll..
                        new advent revision
of... snap-shot auschwitz!
hiroshima: like... blind... *******
ride of... the arbeit macht frei:
because...
in a land of only workaholics...
drinking is neither a desired nor
a way to bypass...
even the huxley argument for alternatives
doesn't work...
miracles or cobwebs...
tarantulla bread winner...
since... the web spinner is...
the loitering... grief of...
a da vinci whimp: waiting for a pope...
pauper the seventh...
art is best provided...
when it is matching...
a... patron!
                  grief that one might have
to be wedded with...
a plot of argument:
a race baiting bride...
if she was a kenyan chic-choc-flick...
a *** "parisian" porcelain...
a thai suntan of squint: and lay-the-mon's'dayz...
on suit: and off...
           i'll call her new delhi...
and... black cardamom...
and i'll her her cinnamon...
i'll call her kalachiri! i'll call her...
kashmiri zenith tease: nibble... bite...
piquant...
                    i will... ****... anything...
that... moves...
half of pakistan is left with...
a mongolian surname...
KHAN...
and Baghdad pretends to not be...
because... there's no JoJo: no new:
Baghdad is the "new" Istambul...
          
all our... cherished parodies of time...
the Turk is somehow...
the Angevin...
        tuba büyüküstün?
                    as one might cite...
a "bit too beautiful" for her...
              said beauty... and then...
hardly... the crevices... to conflate
the understanding of limbs...
this is enough...
longshanks... skinned...
             looted: the crux and scandal...
thus versed: and best: rooted:
oak;
        to have made attempts
to cry... is to have...
been unable... to... coerce
a conversion of laughter into...
an... exhilaration... thus... at best...
to cry... is to have played...
token... poker... mamluk... here is to...
being converted... owning...
a foreigner's own... more...
prominent... this... english... grief and
sorrow and rubble...
dickens! is to be prized above
shakespeare in the realm
of teaching children the language!
i will own this language more prized
than by those born into it...
that i have no name...
that i am akin to the mamluk
and the janissary...
                      convert: who to conquer?!
the king in yellow - the myth of reciting
in greek: famed:
how the h'americans discovered europe...
somehow...
    graham plowman...
in reverse: the h'americans were always
about to: "about to"... revive...
and... recite... regression...
find "old" europe: from within...
the confines of... "new" h'america...
like... poached egg meets... scrambled...
and... tickled ****: ******* *** master!
vegas lost ****-and-edges! *******-pusher...
saint-bite! saint-****!

and all that... saint stephen with a rose...
h'america... the forgotten...
h'elvegen... you are the rite:
for the ripenning of...
whatever... cluster **** worth
of autumn!

title: snuggle
body:
limitless
loss
of sleep    another 502 bad gateway bypass...
i just want to love like...
Edward Scissorhands... Ice Dance song...
playing in the background...
we meet in a graveyard... at night...
and it's snowing... it's snowing ballerinas...
ah... the impossible...
well then... no point blaming ****** omelettes
on prostitutes... either.

100 hundred press ups...
stomach crunches?
   n'ah... i don't feel like it...
yesterday i woke up with my ****-cheeks
aching... they were still aching
today... i thought... better firm them
up a little... 2 hours of cycling ought
to do it, just shy of Rainham via
and back again via Hornchurch...
well... can't say that it helped...
but why bother doing stomach crunches?
i woke up today with my entire
torso aching... like i must have done...
1000 stomach crunches...
well... that's what having ***
in the ******* will do to you
while you're propped up on your
hands above a woman...
more ***... less of that stomach crunches
exercise... press ups: sure...
i'll keep doing those...
   mind you: i never go mad on lifting weights...
i have these two... handle bars?
whatever you call them... how much is on each...
15kg? maybe more... i do about 20 folds
on my knees... but i'm after the adrenaline
in traffic on the bicycle...
   to my demise... i started thinking about Jeminah...
looked her up on facebook...
pretending: it's a bit like me sitting
pitch-side at a football match looking at
faces in the crowd...
my god... you can really stare at people
in a non-creepy way... looking out primarily
for a potential heard-attack...
but if a pretty girl is sitting in the crowd...
you can just put on a poker face
and... no one is going to tell you:
hey! creep! stop staring!
                        it's actually more fun than
watching the actual football match...
if i get to see Khedra enough times i'm sitting pretty
on getting something remotely resembling
a six-pack... not that a six-pack would
look good if you are hairy...
        and i'm not going to just shave, wax...
metro-sexualise myself...
but that got me thinking...
            positive... is this even thinking? perhaps
more like gloating... but... what's the alternative?
wallowing? the plethora of emotions surrounding
doubt? self-denial: the ascetic approach?
can people on write about... denying themselves
an iota of self-appreciation?
in an age of self-employed people...
i'm pretty sure can attach a Dune-esque
self- prefix to what the mythos of Dune describes
as: thinking machines... machina cogitans...
that was always my pet peeve with philosophy...
the words: thing, nothing, something...
broad generalisations... or rather... words that
would make thinking along the lines of 1 + 1 = 2
in language much easier...
                         i am a machine of sorts...
another pet word: being...
       breaking down existence: ex-instance...
or... out-of-every-instance: insistence...
                     not will as such: more akin
to stubbornness... this mortal plea: one more day...
one more hour...
    in Latin that would be...
    out-of-every-instance: insistence (remember though,
the Romans didn't have all the prepositions /
conjunction words that modern English has)
    ex-omni-exemplum: instantiam...
             res cogitans is so vague...
given i have a scratch of consciousness regarding...
the schematic of my body...
i know my muscles in my torso ache...
not because i was doing stomach crunches...
but because i was arching over a woman
performing *** in a *******...
my brain aches from dehydration... i take a pill...
points of concern like so...
      eh... the atomised man...
then again: another "thing" to cut up his mind
with the instrument that i call the quasi-soul...
so stressed by psychology... oh hell...
when medicine sped up to get its whereabouts
with the human body... obviously the psychologists:
"doctors"... psychiatry and its hellish freaks
of instructed lobotomies... oh... one of those
***** envies... they had to cut up a man's mind into:
well, not halves... that's sure as ****...
a ******* Trinity... but like the profanity that's
Christianity... joke... how many schisms can
Christianity... accommodate? from what i heard...
an infinite number of schisms...
by that account... me prodding at a possible
2nd schism in Islam... spearheaded by the Turks
and not the Persians... hmm...
   well... Christianity is a Babel by now...
   i don't really have a criticism of Christianity...
i already had mine... when i was much younger...
a child... Nietzsche already did the "intellectual"
heavy-lifting... i remember being a child
and being confronted with the... if your enemy strikes
you... turn the other cheek...
some primordial argument arose in me...
that's ******* counter intuitive! i'll hit back!
i might not hit back: immediately... obviously...
i might take some time... get hold of the bigger picture...
explore... more avenues...
    but... that's so ******* counter-intuitive...
plus... i didn't take up the option of being confirmed...
confirmation is big in Catholicism:
you can't have a church wedding without being
confirmed... there... that's my "intellectual" take-down
of Christianity... but...
what did Christianity do? well... it turned European
barbarism into... European secularism...
that's all it did... but not that it would ever tame
the barbarism... as... plenty of examples...
plus... the New Testament? to me?
Greco-Judeo propaganda... esp. with the unearhing
of the Nag Hammadi library... in some cave...
in Egypt... and the scribbles of...
some Egyptian false prophet... trying to conquer
Jerusalem, but then retreating... found in...
a book about the Roman Hebrew wars...
by josephus ben matthias... or... as he was later known:
by the proselyte name: flavius josephus...
i almost feel sorry for Nietzsche: with hindsight...
because there's always that aspect of hindsight...
which... the finding came in 1945...
simultaneously... the finding of the dead sea scrolls...
which compiled the lost works of...
Isaiah? right... Hey-Zeus was crucified...
but i read somewhere that... Isaiah was...
eventually... cut in half... at the torso...
hmm... well... peanuts or bananas...
which is worse, if you're allergic to either?
i've had my criticism of Christianity... on a level of
a child... i don't need to elaborate on it...
that it breeds weakness... love is a weakness...
until i met either Jeminah or Khedra...
i had a heart of stone...
          now? i'd still love to get together with
Jeminah... drink some wine... listen to a New Order
record on vinyl...
i got the picture... she was showing me this book
of old, historical Romford...
well... she gave it to me... standing over me...
i asked her: why don't you sit down next to me?
talk me through it?
  she did... ha ha... on our whatsapp exchange
i sent her a link to: foster the people - sit next to me...
she did sit down, slightly reluctantly...
my god... the moment the recoil happened...
i must have "accidently" touched her knuckle
with my finger... phoom! the ******* Challenger
space shuttle disaster! she sort of bounced off
two walls and then the ceiling and was sitting
far far away on the other couch...
but then there's Khedra... the ***** that made
my ****-cheeks ache and my torso attempting
to have six-pack ambitions...
yeah... well... it's a bit different when you see
footballers "taking the knee" on a football pitch
for "some cause"... a bit different when you're
taking a knee... stark naked... before a woman...
just to be level-eye with her...
and... just... you know... fiddly-do-b'ah...
   whatever... oh... i can kneel before a *******...
kiss her stomach... kiss her feet...
i think that's a better altar than...
pretending to **** **** before the altar
of ZEE CRUCI-VIED 'UN...
             magic ******* numbers!
                       yeah... Greco-Hebrew propaganda
against the Roman Empire...
that's what the New Testament is to me...
to go one further... i already mentioned this...
Ba'al Yah'****... lord of mosquitos...
what... turning water into wine...
and wine into blood... is not some infernal metaphorical
device? oh sure... Hey-Zeus was like...
the biggest troll out of hell...
         how did i remedy the spell?
once... i poured myself a glass of wine... ****** in it...
then drank it... MAH-AH-GIC!
a bit like those guys in World War I...
when the mustard gas fell... ******* on handkerchiefs...
the ammonia... purifying the smell of rotten
eggs... blah blah...
then again: why am i writing this?
am i happy? or do i... haven't got anything better
to write? or... perhaps this is easy?
imagine introducing the concept of Ba'al Yah'****
into Islam... to the Turks... hmm...
do you... perhaps think... the Turks might splinter
off... from the prior orthodoxy and heresy
of the Persians? reasoned with?
hmm... they do allow alcohol...
                      and they have the best barbers...
plus... the women? **** like they might be
from the harem of king Solomon...
*** starved... since... not even king Solomon had
the sort of stamina to **** over 1000 women...
if he did... he must have been an ******...
or at least... he wasn't ******* anything by
the end of a session... ergo... trophies... ***-starved
single men... and women... also *** starved...
with... perhaps... very crude ideas of the original ******...
then again... when was a cucumber cultivated,
proper?
sure... look up that josephus ben matthias ref.
regarding the false prophet from Egypt...
wait... wait... didn't Joseph take Mary and Hey-Zeus
to Egypt, the flight to Egypt?
sure... the historian was born circa... 32 AD...
but this is at the time of... NO INTERNET...
    imagine... what it must have taken...
to establish a YEAR ZERO...
                         wow... the amount of work that
went into that... few years... even a 100 could
go missing... just... "missing"...
   the fact being: this prophet wanted to overthrow
Roman rule of Judea: failed... fled back to
Egypt... and where was the Nag Hammadi library
found? in a cave, in Egypt...
just as the theatre of war of World War II was
coming to an end, come 1945... sure...
just "coincidental"... Ba'al Ya'**** had his fun...
not exactly endowed to please women...
abstain from this...
   if the modern girls want their... ahem... feminist war...
on men... sure... let them come...
today i perfect my mango curry...
i started to use whole piece of chicken... on the bone...
today it was drumsticks...
i marinated them in... yougurt...
turmeric... Kashmiri chilly powder...
coriander and cumin powder...
then i baked them...
   i had a spare mango... but already preprepared
mango curry sauce...
****... run out of garam masala...
but i made this other... curry powder...
strike me down i don't remember what i used...
a teaspoon of this curry powder...
some korma curry powder... some more
coriander powder... some more cumin powder...
a third of a teaspoon of clove powder...
some more Kashmiri chilly powder...
some more turmeric... put the heat right on...
to infuse the powders with the chicken stock
and the coconut milk... bay leaves...
taken out before blitzing with the onions
the ginger and the garlic... some peppercorns...
oh... and nigella seeds... a must...
some raisins... and a splash of apple cider vinegar...
yo! Faust! we're cooking! Faust... mate...
we're cooking tonight... sorry to disappoint you...
but tomorrow we're having fish & chips...
from where? Lighthouse Fish & Chips...
145 Heath Park Road, Gidea Park, Romford...
   RM2 5XJ... the best fish and chips you'll ever get...
trust me... i'm endorsing them...
Faust... what's that? chaos... oh... don't worry...
you'll get to the thrills...
there are plenty to come...
  look at me... i'm trying to juggle two women at
once... one... Turkish: a bomb in bed...
wants to meet outside of the brothel...
in a hotel room... "talk"... "improve her English"...
just wants to **** for the whole night...
sure... we'll go for food... me-be even a moo-v...
the other... a shy doe... but that dark tinge of ginger
that's just irritating to the *****...
Faust... curry come this Saturday...
yes, yes... the mango version of a korma...
more spicy... certainly no almonds so not as bland:
more acidic... no... i'm not going to infuse
the rice with turmeric... how much yellow do you
want on a plate? yes, i'll add the peppers...
for a bit of crunch... garnish?
fresh coriander... sure... i don't think anyone
will be asking for extra yoghurt...
   (burp)...
                   and you remember that "other" girl...
the friend of the manicurist that comes to see your mother...
she just tags along... she has a "thing" for Scandinavian
aesthetics on a man...
     nervous as hell: esp. when you peer into
her eyes and then peer at her face...
so much make-up... a body of crumbs... petite...
if you had *** with her: you'd crush her...
but this manicurist brings her daughter along...
you were talking in the garden while holding
this toddler in your hands... exposing her
to the sunlight... from time to time...
gripping the exposed feet of the toddler in
your hands: to warm them up...
you introduced this girl to the music
of the band Ghost... you spoke about wishing
to die on the Faroe Islands...
like it was your place of birth... well... isn't death
just that? a man's actual birth? a completion
for time to ascend toward a forwardness of
the spectacle? ugh... verbiage... unavoidable...
but who the hell just wants soap opera:
uncomplicated vector simplistic language of
purely: verbs... some nouns?
no... no etymology? wow... what a chunk of
history just: ****! gone! back to the analysis
of the comparisons of the ape to human skeleton...
**** similis is an ancient idea... there's nothing
new about it... nothing has changed...
because it's not supposed to...
                and what did it take?
my doctor's concern about my high blood pressure...
you either lose weight... or we're going to put you
on high blood pressure tablets...
**** that... you already miscalculated
by putting me on anti-psychotic drugs...
which made me put on weight...
i took myself off them... you have any...
actual.... counter-insomnia medication?
phenergan? sure... i'll take those... once in a while...
i'll stick to Naproxen and APAP...
and whiskey...
        though...
               wow... what a world changer...
giddy school girls... bro'... n'ah...
  not enough experience... they're just posturing
self-assurance... i'm after the mandible jaws...
but imagine... from a time when someone like...
Brautigan... no, not Brautigan...
       Berrigan... no... not him... ****... it does start
with a B, though... hmm... B... Berryman! John!
that's the one... how many marriages... how many
divorces... not that i'm counting myself...
                     oh, we're ******... esp. ****** right now...
it was possible back then...
but now? one ****-tease after another...
   thank god i chose to not have money...
i'd look like a complete idiot if i was honey-trapped...
because i might have money...
then again: i think i have money...
sure... gold standard... from IMPERIAL RUSSIA...
coins... stamps from elsewhere...
a ******* banknote from IMPERIAL RUSSIA with
Nicholas II's face on it...
   hell... i'll keep it until times becomes really
desperate... but? until then... when they find my body...
and they find that... i'll spin the myth...
i like seeing how people treat people...
depending on their social stratum...
i stopped watching movies...
                  hmm...
                              let's see some more...
high value man: the high earner... "alpha"...
well... fair enough... for a society that's supposed
to follow the lineage of the words:
i'm the alpha and the omega...
                    it's nice being on the outside: looking in...
my supposed value gets a direct translation...
prostitutes are like: the gold standard... or the FIAT...
not being demeaning...
but the money i give them: i wouldn't spend...
on... anything they might spend it on...
if i spent money like i do... Scotland would be
a Switzerland...
but, hell... if all these videos i've watched... are true?
if women want to bring the fight...
with what? i iron my own shirts... i cook my own meals...
i vacuum my own house...
i don't think there's a bargaining chip in sight...
and ***? i just found the best *** in my life...
*** so good that even she thinks it's not fair me paying
for only an hour... she wants to meet in a hotel...
for the whole night... "talk"...
so... Sartre mentions this...
   i'm still in the realm of skim-reading... the entry
points... the freedoms we have as individuals...
and how we express them...
                         i'm not willing to be a wage-slave for
someone to spend that money on...
something non-essential... because...
i call it the LIBIDO FACTOR... well... there's only
this amount of farmers we can have...
there's only this amount of metallurgy factory workers
we can have... beyond that?
attention seeking ******?
freely passing money around?
for what? ****'s sake... CONTENT?!
what.... CONTENT?!
                 it's not that there's too many people in
this world... per se... it's that...
there's enough people to have figured out
what to do... at this point...
i think we're going to run dry on ideas on...
what people can do... beside: plagiarise, steal...
and generally turn towards crime...
which is... a bonus for me...
         i'll have freely available clones... pawns...
should push come to shove...
i know what i'll have at my disposal... clones...
pawns... it's rather beautiful...
******* mind-drones... ditto-heads...
                 but then again... i'm not the one prone
to dream up architecture for a Freud-type
to interpret... all i dream of is a void...
sometimes a word pierces it...
                         no... no symbolism of a big hat...
or a cucumber... simply... NO-THING...
zilch... nada...
   yes... i've watched these supposed "alpha" males...
they're... always... weirdly... over-compensating
for a... hidden deficiency...
they are always posturing... they always seem
to be: eagerly disposing a set of rubrics of anger...
of... awaiting violence...
in a crowd of people... they never manage
to: get the jyst of "things"...
    weird... weird as ****... you know when you can
smell fear: sniff.... sniff... hmm.... i smell something...
it's a bit different when you find an
example that's... posturing... oh... a very different
sort of fear... not a fear from a direct attack....
"beta" males don't give off this vibe...
there's always some variation of a protector....
but these "alpha" males... oh... their fear is born
from... being... undermined...
sabotaged... it's thrilling to watch...
                                      why wouldn't it be thrilling?
it's like that scene from Hotel Transylvania...
when that old lady gremlin swallows something,
shaking, says... i didn't do it...
it wasn't me...
            and they get all hyped up...
become so talkative...
                         yawn...
                      i get scared too... i sometimes jolt back
when seeing a random hallucination in the night...
wait! ****! that's not my shadow...
oh... right... it just maybe is...
        ha ha... they had to go through all that
crap of building up resources...
seeking the "****** bride"...
                 me? what supposed artist gets rich
in his lifetime? i'm investing in...
post-humous legacy...
    i sought value in society's lowest ebb...
among prostitutes...
and what treasures i found there...
certainly no hook-up culture: mentality...
    i can kneel naked before a naked body of a woman
and... if i'd like: **** on the crucifix...
because? by now... i can...
with Christianity and its forever schismatism...
orthodox, catholic, protestant, baptist, blah blah...
whatever... i'm thinking about making Islam endure...
like a Janissary might... or a... Mamluk...
**** me... i'm willing...
                   but there needs to be a splinter...
one... there the Turks take over...
i already established the ground work...
Hey-Zeus? Ba'al Yah'****...
                  there's nothing for me here...
  nothing worth the life i'd want to life...
                           but i'll kneel before the altar of
a ******* standing before me naked...
while i'm kneeling naked myself...
and my eyes come level with her chin...
       time for change....
                     even if i die forgotten...
most people who accumulate wealth are forgotten...
now... that all depends... on the wealth
of my idea... could it be the proper probe...
let the court of time: decide;
i'm still going to enjoy the remains
of this whiskey... whether anyone likes it....
or not.

it must be a clear misunderstanding when someone utters the words: 'you hurt my feelings'... taking offense etc. last time i checked... doubt is outright discredited... yet in doubt: such a plethora of emotions... bundles of emotions... emotions that i can't bestow a narrative onto... it's not like the lack of emotions matched with denial... doubt's plethora: it's a pale version of love... in all but certain times... a pinch of uncertainty is always welcome... as is being offended... it's a loose-paradox (paradox: probably a misnomer in the context) of... an imploding objectivity... all those who claim objectivity also claim: being cognitive pure... not being dragged: muddled by emotions... why are emotions so undeserving to be felt... i'm tired of the silence of the heart for almost forever... when people say they have "****-hurt feelings"... or that they might be "offended"... it's not that... i see it as: implanting emotions... somehow it's easier to digest thoughts: since... "somehow" thoughts can exist in both an: in vivo as in an in vitro staging... you will probably never take thoughts seriously... but emotions... that raw slice of cured beef? well... it's not that i "hurt" your "feelings"... it's only that i gave you... feelings you never prior experienced... no one has hurt feelings: never... people only have bothersome feelings they cannot digest... no one is hurting... there are only a few with indigestion qualms... but since it's not the stomach but the heart... no one their pigeon brain starts to coo coo: cook up nonsense...

in light of recent events, in England...
a proselyte: of a former Islamic persuasion...
gets stabbed, slashed... whatever...
for wearing a Charlie Hebdo t-shirt
at speakers' corner in Hyde Park...
does it matter she's a woman:
does it matter whether or not she
was actually talking or merely wearing the t-shirt?
a proselyte...
i'm sort of one: teasing at the adventure...
i'll write the word ****** because...
well: giggle... bundle...
i will not censor my thoughts...
but because i will not utter the word:
i will not: it's not for the debility
and some "sacred past"..
but i will not scream it: choke my thoughts
with it... i'll reach the platitude...
urban slur that it has become:
you... don't... "own" the word...
i don't need this black hole punctuation
marker...
                      the "N-word":
god grease this "taboo": i have better pork
to ****...

- when enough drink is in me
i'll be writing under the influence:
but i won't be cycling... i tried that once...
i collapsed on the side of the road
clenched my bicycle
like a woman might clench a ****-buddy
and just... lay there... i was aiming
for the moon... it was a moonless night...
i started aiming for the constellations:
it was cloudy... i just lay there on
the pavement...
it felt... very village-esque...
as if the Red Army just passed through
having seen the well-dressed SS-men
running for their life in scuffles
and... torn limbs... in rags...
thank god the Bolsheviks were not
those ****-smeared Mongols...
who ate nothing but rancid horse-meat
and drank nothing but horse blood...
but it figures...
can i please talk to some of the sensible
Muslims: the ****'ites?
the old world Persians... even they're ******:
how come a bunch of camel jockeys
started to dictate to the Persians
a new thinking parameter?
the youngest of the monotheistic brat-dom....
so easily offended...
my greatest "fear":
the jihadi with an acute sensitivity
most associated with: French footballers...
why are these Muslims as sensitive as
French footballers...
Islam was once so gracious:
i was almost willing to "revert"...
i was implored by some Muslims to do so...
that's the thing with associating yourself
with Muslims in the west:
a feeling of conversation soon turns into
a feeling of conversion...
i asked one ****-
            -stani who approached me in a park
while i was sipping a beer...
why are you single? he implored...
a man of your stature...
shouldn't be single...
i didn't ask him whether this was England or
whether it was Lahore..
i just asked him what:
Alif-Lãm-Mĩm
meant at the beginning of a surah...
he brushed it somehow "aside" with a:
'only god knows'...
sorry... but that's not good enough...
i have to be the worst type of
a convert prospect...
although the best should an architecture
student... come along with a joint...
me with two beers... him with Le Trio Joubran:
that is happened in Amsterdam:
of course it had to happen in Amsterdam!

Alif-Lãm-Mĩm: is that sort of quiz
akin to turning letters into numbers
and "seeing" patterns... there's that Hebrew term
for this practice... it's not chiromancy...
it's not the concern for the Zodiac...
it only takes three letters...

"666": ΧΞϚ

last time i checked: "they" were breeding black
athleticism over Hebrew intellectualism...
Hebrew intellect fell short &, sour...
with what came out of Marxism
and... Freud still chokes:
but it's hardly a ******* celebration
when translated into skyscrapers...
when there's also that alias of the ****
with the football stadium... no?

but the "******" can be celebrated for his
physical prowess...
there are more holier words in this language
than a slur i hope to confess has become
more of an urban doodle: prepositional-punctuation
marker....

at least i'm not screaming the "N-word" in the back
of my head like some stuttering numb-nuts...
it's there... plain to see...
if i were to write: Niggerian instead of Nigh-Gear-Ian...
it would imply... what?
the same sort of hyper-sensitivity associated
with Jihadi Johnsons alias:
macabre: Russian ballerinas are more cut-throat
than these French footballers...

there are more sacred words than require
black-holes of: translated into "thinking"...
the name of the Hebrew god...
hidden within a "name for a name":
ha-shem...
there... i'll go as far as that...
i will not utter this word...
but sure as hell i'll make a great dough
of it: seeing how it might rise...

**** a black girl: colonial superpower, i...
the English are the tourists of Europe...
i don't think the Polacks ever felt comfortable
in their backyard... ever...
the argument goes: since the English went
all over the world... the world now has
to come knocking...
for all this ****** weather: you're more than
welcome...
Japan is an island... it has much
better weather: go figure...

another example... a former ISIS bride has returned
to England...
she's living in a £500,000 house
and has been giving treatment for
a prosthetic extension
of a lost arm: "lost" in a drone strike...
**** me... should have fought for ISIS...
pumped myself up with all those
amphetamines all those warriors were
ingesting because:
drink is... b'a'a'a'h bad (stutter?) i bet
you want...

hypersensitivity:
great at running...
but... no good at swimming
or for that matter: rock climbing...
from a tree unto the rock...

no matter... i was watching the Australian masterchef
contest and spotted a stand-out...
her grandmother was of a south-east-asian
"persuasion"...
pure as chalk...
well... "good news": ol' sandpaper man
comes in... 2nd generation
of interracial breeding...
well... two generations short...
what's that like in dog years?
the first encounter... done...
2nd... by the 3rd turn product pops out...
all is bleached...
worked with sandpaper... of white: piglet skin...

what a pretty fine explanation...
this connect: nuanced: "us":
greedily waiting the next: new...
conversion...
how do born & bred Muslims treat
proselytes...
converts... "reverts":
if not black h'american Malcolm X
stints...
all white... Mamluk / Janissary types-typos...
second class: ha! "citizens":
i don't trust these anaemic-**** smears
from the sand-pits of wannabe Congo
any more than...
no... great curry...

how it came about that a western man
had to become: educated by
some... retrograde... concerning words:
he would never ******* use!
even in a bilingual sequence of "events"...
mind you... the niqab would come about
as sort of... useful...
concerning the mythological blonde and
her ******* tirade of cough-ups!

get the **** real: ******:
the blacks just want to be...
blacks... the whites just want to be:
white...
you... play-up your jazz
while i drown my ******* Prokofiev...
you be black... i be white...
women always: some great heritge
of brotherhood making a comeback?
must be a Vancuever sort-of
a shin-dig...
investment in lady... qualities...

just about right: how h'Arabs treat those
Bangladeshi whips...
you have to whip those h'Arabs into
owning some ******* whiskers...
brown-beat doesn't even cover it:
with the copper-necks...

- just don't get me started on the Turks...
Turks... supposedly Muslim...
but their alphabet originated with the Mongol
geography...
seeing how the Turks licked at Vienna...
spent so much time just below
the Carpathian mountains: in Europe...
the best barbers and the best
prostitutes known to man...
oh and the ****'ite Persians who still love their
iconography...
Charlie Hebdo was wrong in that respect:
i bet Muhammad was a handsome *******...
a camel jockey / goat herder...
an illiterate par excellence...

it's not like he was immediately liked in his
local Mecca...
i have my "theory": in praise of older women...
i'm pretty sure she was the elder
the literate... the business mind-set illuminated...
she must have been the person who
wrote down the first Surahs...
who? Khadija: Muhammad's first wife...

eh... and they really do think they're the dog's *******...
Eddie Izzard's explanation is still tip-toe for moi...
my francophobia will not go away:
i can't speak French and not retain a French accent...
that will not pass...
therefore? i will not learn French...
i'm not going to speak French like a foreigner...

clearly i wanted to convert to Islam once...
"clearly"? hmm...
i once listened to this spectacular adhan and cried
like a Janissary...
what put me off Islam?
****-
    -stani Islam...
                 Saudi Islam...
     i'm still teased by the Turks... well... Turkish prostitutes...
once upon a time i also
heard vaughan william's fantasia
on the theme of thomas tallis... and also cried...
i cry at beauty... that's what i do...

my ****** lot... because the Hebrew's devil is older
than my devil...
imagine... coming from a people
that still defended the last paganism
of the Lithuanians: the last paganism in Europe...
the year: 1410... a battle between the pagans...
the Tatars (remains of the Mongol Horde)
the Polacks: lack-land lack-land...
and the Teutonic Order...

perhaps i could have convinced myself
to convert to Islam...
but then... what the hell do i do with
the *******... ms. amber and all that bourbon
that... always reminds me of a brothel?

the Hebrew god...
well... it begins with the implosion and all that's
clockwork with the Greek Δ -
that became the Y or... the serpent's split tongue...
funny story...
i was chatted with a Greek on a train to central
Warsaw from the Modlin Airport...
my god... how similar Greek sounds to Spanish!

look here: γΥ!
                           eh? eh? it's a sound structure that
requires an umlaut when transcribed into
Latin:                     gÜ...
one parabola... two parabola: a pair of wheels:
goo!          of the ghoul!

i do believe the story of of Carmenta (the Cimmerian Sibyl)
because... why shouldn't
it not be mythological that the genius
of Sejong who invented Hangul...
enough time passes...
journalism becomes history and history becomes
myth... or... there abouts...

all for the best... now that we're all seemingly
literate...
under too much weight of history:
it seems that i have inherited too much...
and i have inherited too much:
there's a plateau of a horizon...
so much history for a single man to digest:
ingest... that we have hoarded so much
of it... enter filter... enter skim-reading...
but it happens  ever so often that a Quran arrives...
a fire... but then... all the restrictions
that come with it... so much with keeping
too much from the past...

if only Islam could have cured me
of my drinking solution
to the boredom associated with
the soberness of the everyday: platitudes...
perhaps enough: just enough of *** could
curate me towards a better path...
such are the times:
there's plenty of drink: available...
but never enough ***...
unless you're a performance artist...

i feel most sane on a bicycle... feel safest
when being overtaken by a juggernaut of
a truck's volume...
a critique of traffic...
i feel... completely bewildered when
a mini-cooper: this sized: ||
takes... this much: |       | of space
to overtake you...
while... a man driving a van...
or a truck sized: |       |
takes... || to pass you...

Gallows Corner roundabout...
the last thrill of a cyclist taking to orientating
traffic... in the newspaper...
another solipsistic cyclist was mowed down
by a truck turning left at some junction
of Holborn...
me and my unconscious spatial coordination
arithmetic: not some ******... although:
a ****** would probably wave hello
this was a paediatrician cycling to her job...
i don't pity her... let the earth be light
upon claiming her body...

most cyclists that die on the streets of London
deserve to die...
how nonchalantly they ignore...
how... no... nonchalant is a timid word:
how... blasé they seem...
every time i pass one of these solipsistic
bulges geared up for: target practice
i forget to laugh...

i feel human... i bought 70cl of bourbon...
gorgon... bourbon: watch me turn to stone...
**** it... i'll sober up tomorrow morning
on the dual carriage way...
why not take the risk?
i'm most sane when drinking and scribbling
or when cycling...
i was expecting to see some lovelies in
Upminster... but...
since i was riding a road bike with 23cm wide tires
i was looking down for... ***-holes...
more than looking up for cleavage...

but this glorious spot... just outside of Upminster...
beyond Cranham... easing into
Bird Ln... through to Tomkyns Ln.
while walking across the A127 Arterial...
the organic beauty of England is starting
to grow on me... i love what the Saxons did with
the place...
perhaps the Welsh and the Scots: the origins story
Britons that the Romans met would have
done just as much...
nice... tended to garden...
i once felt nostalgic for the land most associated
with Polacks occupying it
but a land the Swedes wanted... the Mongols...
the Russians... Turks and Germans...
i imagine i'd be as much involved with
a love for the organic north America
while missing the love for the...
culture that lay on top of the organic spectacle...

i much adore this topography...
of course i can hardly appreciate the natives
having too play the game of capitulation
of former colonial herd "animals"...
hurt feelings? or feelings aroused?
you felt them: your problem...

how the English capitulated to their former subjects...
it almost hurts... almost: no... it hurts...
i love this land...
i'm hardly going to agree with the people...
nicety... politeness:
you give them a ******* mosque in the middle
of... i've was invited to the Reagent Park mosque
as a prospectus convert...
what is it with having Muslim "friends":
you're only "friends"... "proper":
if you convert?!
what's that recipe you have for the Lavash?
who would have thought that rosemary
works just as well with beef as it does with lamb...
oh right... that was it?
fair enough... *******!

see... that's what put me off Islam...
****-
  -stani: Rotherman...
bad taste man... it just left a bad taste in
my mouth... i ended up without a mouth...
pretending to eat via the hole i **** from...
i'd scoff out some diarhoea digestive juices on
my meal and then... vacuum it up with my ****...
i remember the concept of teeth...
though... teeth were nice...
so was the tongue...

****-
  -stanis ruined my vision of converting to Islam...
i'll settled for this... makeshift of Christianity...
gnostic.. because... well:
in my position: you're not teasing at Hebrew
superstitions... you must be...

oh this land... this most glorious: serene land...
how breath-taking "concept" of Scotland...
all the finicky irks of the rolling hills of
what's mostly England...
on a bicycle: best...
do i mind the locals?
well... do the local mind their former colonial
subjects?
what's that saying: thanks for the recipe?

you see me in Bangkok... you see a *******
chimpanzee die from dehydration:
sweated out from his... salty... nut-sack!
i'm not going... to hell with south-east Asian
humidity...
it's a cancer... i'll best survive with "the idea"
of keeping up a hard-on / narrative on...
prospectus ghost horizons...
the Faroe Isles... *******: GREEN-LAND...

that's where Frankenstein's monster would
have went... i'd go there too...
the agony of summer...
everything decomposes too quickly...
the flies... the maggot **** the flies!

oh for the love of these isles... perhaps not the people:
then again... i rather drift in & out with
the anglo-saxons than be jumbled up with
"my" people...
you start to appreciate despising the
******* diaspora after a while...
i guess the Polacks are the most willing to
integrate...
whoever showcased the dynamics of the
congregation project of Chicago...
somehow forgot...
i'll drink drink this 70cl of bourbon:
don't worry... i won't clog up the arteries of
the NHS with my antics...

you what? i love this land... perhaps the wolves
have been culled...
but the foxes are still running rampant...
well: if life throw you foxes:
you're not going to exactly: ah-woooo!
bark? for the love of life: i will never
bark or take to the leash...
i own two maine *****...
i exhausted them while grooming them...

they ended up spending the afternooon
sleeping in my bed...
i'm hopefully going to retire to it:
with a horror movie soundtrack somehow:
soon...
spontaneity of narrative... closure:
more impromptu... less of that...
masquerade formality...
this god blessed land...
if only the Spanish armada...
like the Mongolian ships...
should the conquest of Yappon could have
been envisioned...

anyone still reading this still bothered about...
GG?
the consensus of... a neGlected...
     Giant...
i think... this former soy boys catching
their Goliaths... catch 'em cold... sober..
or... simply exchange them?
to perform so well in slam-dunk prowess...
reinvent classical music via jazz through
towards blues... rock... etc.?

somehow the weight on my shoulders shifts...
a Nigerian ****** turns out to be an urban slur that
doesn't invoke a Nigerian...
a soy boy vegan: perhaps...
i implore the use with coercion tactic...
for those offended: yeah... i'll just implant some
emotions into your heart...
it's very much offensive for my to intrude with
proper spelling...

let's be honest: anyone who has been:
honest... is by now... tired of walking on eggshells...
**** a black girl... what, you?! colonial beast!
yes... confuse the ****** with the Croat...
the Russian too... hell... throw some Ukrainian bias
while you're at it...
anti-racist western girls are...
eh... m'eh... if i can get what i want for
half a decade's worth with some Turkish raven
hair... beaus...
do i... have to mind... pronouns... prospectus quotes etc?

like i said... wait for the bleach..
or... the sandpaper...
i've seen the complete works...
i was ****** with... love... affairs...
girls that dated me...
sure... but they had younger sisters...
and their younger sisters were more...
most attractive...
terrible combination:
dating a girl while her younger sister
is more attractive...

for all the choices and Heidegger...
lucky loser...
no... thank you...
to be one of these super-sensitive Islam propagators...
me? convert?! *******: no!
best keep that ***** in the niqab...
if it were a bone tomahawk..
it would be a female... declined limbs...
blinded...
a torso readied for *******...
imagine that... a replica machinery...

oh i'm sure... Muhammad... was a handsome beast...
but i'm thankful...
that the first... last... true religion...
met a schism so early...
Muhammad was so easily undermined
not keeping a nepotistic promise for
a cousin Ali...
early schism: no truer than:
truth is somehow sold?!

i fiddle with my beard:
whoever says otherwise... no... i'm still playing a violin!
i'll sober up solo... cycling against the gusts of wind...
Eloise...
Eloise!
England... oh this well deserved and welcome land...

my land....
in deutsche:: mein(e) erde...
i watch the locals: capitulate....
   what are you?! slugging *****-best-please
sumac? i... i am to surround  suspicion?

this glorious land....
                   this.... glorious land...
this: ING-LAND...
best forget the wolves..
given the foxes are prunes...

.the "left" was doing so well in the hinter-lands of the vest so well... gone the "nation", the "race", the "ethnity": how a russian... well a trouble with: russians not being the panslavic "symptom" etc., but sure... i could see it happen... it worked so perfectly... i could **** around with an afro-saxon spawn... a thai suprise... no matter... erase that side of the equation and we could have kept the ball rolling... but then... it became... completely unnecessary to attack the status quo from a grammatical underpinning... gender neutral pronouns: when all was required was an it... and in those languages: french... where... nouns cannot be gender neutral: like in ******: a sun is female: a moon male... anyone could forget what they would thereby bring to the table... their race, their ethnicity... their nationality... all fine and wonderful... but to undermine: i eat a pear... i walked a mile: toward: they: who walked a mile... they: that ate a pear - which i, thought: "they" did not... panem et circenses: becomes a paradox... what has happened to the willigness for the circus... the bread is to not be exhauasted... people are told: it's best to save your money - by not spending it... on frival affairs of "life"... but the "left" came after all known tribalism... beside the secular tribalism of supporting a football team... and now that's gone... did they have to come after grammatical rigidity? i could leave my slavic in place with the western european germanic... there was a confusion among the islamic recruiters for the mamluk caliphate on edware road that didn't tell apart a ****** with a german... fair enough... since all the people of this world are to be... copper-skinned... too bad: we'll have to bleach the choccies and bleed the blondies... we'll get a cinnamon-copper concensus however we: most dislike it... almost a peevish "concern" throughout... i heave a sense of claustrophobia... an attack on both sides: a bottleneck impossibility... i can't... wave a toilet roll akin to Chamberlain after the munich agreement... i'd agree... although Franklin D. Roosevelt is a favorite of mine... a bit like Philip II Augustus of the Capetian dynasty... him riding a horse... the native walking and the african... also towing his legs... but it's not like the northern natives... were... like the southern and mid-natives of this two-tier continent... the Mayans / the Aztecs didn't... behold horses in the same way as the Conquistadors... Beethoven... apparently a Moor... a Spaniard... prior to... the Goths moved through Iberia... so i guess... anything tinged with copper is also "black"... a headache of a narrative to want to keep-up with! of course: Copernicus was a woman! the madness of king George III... the lament of the zenith... baby-faced Idi Amin... never brought to justice... died a peaceful death... somewhere in Saudi Arabia... somewhere among the camel jockeys... i dare say... perhaps if i were a lithuanian... an estonian... a latvian... but an ukranian? it should be oh so simple! english, ukranian... russian... ****** rubric!

life - життя - жизнь - życie
air - повітря - воздуха - powietrze
serpent - змія - змей - wąż
ghost - привид - призрак - duch
soul - душа - душа - dusza
body - тіло - тело - ciało
tongue - язик - язык - język....

  of the slavs i still think we're the most refined... hell nietzsche called as the french of the slavs... if this was written in warsaw... under some pseudonym... fair enough... powie: it will say... trze: as it will rub with sandpaper (loosely)... concerning air... but a panslavic movement would only make sense from perspective of russia...

herd - стадо - пасти - stado...

       a history of a "people" and... history as: etymology... and who came up with what word first... and: how it became "inconvenient" to share some words: notably nouns... oh god forbid loan words!

horse - кінь - конь - koń...
                                          (зЪ)-(ż)art... joke...
                              (зЬ)-(ź)renica... pupil of the eye...  

once upon a time i could stomach
canned laughter...
in comedy sitcoms...
   i could stomach it...
           because it tried to anticipate
when to laugh: when the canned
laughter wasn't... used...
i could get canned laughter...
or... notably...
             when ricky gervais made...
the office...
   it's not that the jokes were
so funny or so crass or so... soap opera...
so cringe...
   no canned laughter...
a terrible time including canned
laughter in "comedy movies"...
that's one thing...
but... but...              but!
canned crowds?
      i've seen about 3 FA matches...
man city vs. burnley...
   west ham vs. spurs...
        canned crowds...
           canned crowds... audio
borrowed from friendly matches...
not from derby matches...
from... friendly matches...
canned laughter...
   canned support...
canned antagonism...
                   canned kantian
load of *******...
                  once upon a time...
you'd get a live-feed
and live-audio of an international
match... between...
bulgaria and england...
or montenegro and england...
the home side was banned for racism...
even in those matches...
you didn't get...
canned support... canned ghosts?
canned ghosts... canned cheering...
canned chanting...
  canned: leering...
      i knew that it was important
for there to be a crowd...
in a stadium... even though:
you only get a t.v. link access...
to the football match...
     canned laughter...
laughter i would never...
            giggle with...
          but... canning a home crowd?
to a murmur of a friendly match?
the fever pitch of a london debry?
hell... nice interlude...
nice... whatever this was ever going
to be.

the tyrd tier of tinking: and tinkering:
soil! sailor! tailor! sire! speer!
the 'ird tomme: of.. off' of
'n' effer: f-f-f'ing
contra "t"-ing...
   the tarded: dart und
darting... Fear the Dubliner ****!

told us it was all about
the buck mc abstainin'
loss of tooth
to speak... easy: IRA...

lord fudge... crapper sentenced to:
that bomb coming from
a shoe-shine... we could almost
wish... this new shakespeare
from the lodging of...
for all the love of shakespeare...

what is... auld lang syne?!
smokies... sung... sang and tatties!
bittersweet loved up crease!

afraid of "us"... U2 soon pops
up closure for leisure...
i am the love thast never become
the sing-along for the worth of...
    
this disglorified:
woman of a lost dublin...
      sacred mow tow and tie..

my: freckled..
fritz... mummy: be...
mommy best...
ralph fiennes...
         amon göth...
                     and all that is /
was ever to be required...
limbo fashioned and a somewhat
soaking up of "talk"...
  
scrutiny of the absolved
"work"...
i better scoff at:
chance and... gamble...
you are me...
better made witness of...
the loitering "bleach"...
better start calling 'im:
bleachboys crescendo!
the mecca-boys the
cupsid copper-necks!
my skins my all borne forth born...
skittle rage and grief born...
born freed from
the shackles of a ****!
mother daughter or the harem!

before one **** is ready...
the next ****** will be readied
for the next anarchist crescedo!
of: glory be to: burn the tire the rubber
turn the ****** the...
      also called a ***** and a shrimp ****
wink-wink: all insinuation...
shame for all the people grativitating
toward racially charged sensibilities
of heart and offence...

me whitey yoyo... when
the ***** sunks a lemon
and you're... along with me...
the bright and lost...
concept of a digestive biscuit?
  *******...val kilmer and...
       pity the blond... spoon-fed soul...
clown bored: bearing... nicole kidman..
            
because the concern for jihad...
once upon a time... was...
the **** of violence of the Bataclan...
was... eating the testickles of
infadels...
a whittle virus: beijing made...
scared... these... originals...
these god-fearing folk...
into: nostalgia...
into a secular understanding
of the world?

                        well... they better be arab...
saudi... not iraqi... yemen oud...
iranian...
      they best be kept saudi...
and best keep them...
barricading the
   tiananmen sq massacre hardons...
like... Eddie Edams'...
bullet to the head...
"contra"... thich quang duc -
whoever was being crucified...
wasn't... by any chance...
also made subject... to... the blood-eagle?
a scalping: just in case:
he should be seen donning a kippah?
was... he's?!

bruise welsh read: fwesh: and red...
ripe... teasing crude pink...
and salmon and *******...
a rainbow trout: rainbow and crevices
of tailor: and abortions for
the tonne load of jerking out...
yugoslav conundrums...
                          genocides...
callz 'em... what doz' 'un callz em...
"janissary" / "mamluk"?
caviate if not... caviar!
          
skin read: with a dipping into
mayonnaise...
some mustard after the grand feast
of worth for the worth of the day!
and i to will come...
like a dog whistled to come
to a return...
                
   an image to burn into my mind:
the owczarek kaukaski -
the caucasian shepherd dog...
big ******* wolves wiz onz
metz.
copernican bluffs...
     corpus "christi" of stalingrad...
   it could almost seem the same...
when one were to be fed...
the same hungry **** on **** warfare...
tsarina victoria contra...
  of england...
                 the oops-and-circumstance
of a parisian midwife...
so much for no ***** no ******...
and somehow...
the sigma of man... "preserved"...
yeah... like **** it will be...
better pray for the ****-gang-up
of the litany of the monghol khan!

      no!
niet! nie!
             nein!