We face annihilation
Terror in the Night

Religion is evasion
Things don't work out right

Alien invasion?
What are these UFOs?

I'd ask the research professor
But she said she doesn't know

     (Synchronicities though)

Nietzsche knew of the waiting abyss,
those inside and those outside.

...Bobby's wife is *****, murdered.
he gets a gun, tortures
and slaughters the 3 men.

the entire movie theater cheers. some clap.
we've had our fill.
(transitory though it is)

we've realized in the husband,
the animal lurking in all,
not hidden, but not acknowledged,
our dark light rising from the mist
of primordial quicksand,
the mirror facing the mirror.
the monster fighting the monster.

and we are pleased.

Not wise, Dr Sellars ,but curious, imaginative and quite intuitive.

Life is too complex and reason has vast limits. Some ignorance is healthy, too much knowledge is a burden as it encourages rumination and speculation (this wasters time) and also often leads to pride,  arrogance and bigotry. That's why the intellectual mind is not a happy one.  You well know geniuses and the smartest people suffered/suffer from mental problems----Schumann, Rachmaninov, Tchaikovsky, Beethoven,  Donizetti, Mahler, Ivor Gurney, Nietzsche, Van Gogh, John Clare, Churchill, Lincoln (he contemplated suicide), Wittgenstein (I thought of suicide every day--2 of brothers took their own lives), John Stuart Mills, Virginia Woolf, Sylvia Plath, Tolstoy, Ernest Hemingway (too his own life), ......Back home, Les Murray, Michael Leunig, Sculthorpe, a former Premier of WA.....suffered/suffer from depression......more next time.  I gave 6 talks on happiness in 2018, not as a guru but as one who talks from experience....when I launched my 5th book IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ZEN- THE PATH TO A CALMER AND HAPPIER LIFE, sold in 14 countries and rated 5 star by 8 book-dealers.  
Please excuse me,  I got carried away.....

sincerely Peter

new favorite past-time?
listening to the ex_machina
soundtrack,
notably the track
hacking...
while drinking,
perched on the window-sill,
eyes closed,
imitating
the movements of
a robot...
you know...
jerking motions,
one inch in
length with
regards to the previous
position...
in a slide-show conceptualization
of s stop, search,
stop, search logistics...
go figure...
a drunk would have
to conjure up said imitation,
to be left alone,
when it comes to his neighborly
interaction / interference...
like Nietzsche said:
some people really do
go mad...
others?
pretend to be mad...
in order to be left alone.

from the room the distant seas
resounded and compounded
filled the space till all I heard
were waters crashed and pounded

and Nietzsche utters Superman
and “God is a conjecture”
Zarathustra keeps on speaking
of the figs in every lecture

pulling the ears of Italy
and drawing the eyes of England
except Lucy who in her heart has found
a potion of a new blend

that "science" is now made "political" is only the consequence of its intrinsic, modern - i.e. technological - essence.

heidegger foresaw more
than nietzsche could
have ever wished to inspire.

            and isn't that the case?
  atheism is more political than
       a materialism frothing
    its mouth against any sort of
spirituality, but more to the point:
mysticism, akin to the islamic
   *sufis, the christian gnostics,
and the jewish kabbalists...
    i find the zeitgeist atheism
   absolutely abhorrent...
                and i don't even need
to cite a personal or an impersonal
reason...
           and yes,
      i find the only feminist to
be in world history, as that of
  mary shelley...
      there was a debate in england
as to whether put jane austen
   on the fiver banknote...
        what about mary shelley?!

and yes, i cackle like a magpie,
   rather than laugh...
          i choke on the first H,
          and then compose a breath
upon the second,
   the first H is the creator of vowels,
the second H is the catcher of vowels,
  the congregation allowance...
       but what's the difference between
  ( he-αληθ/φ)            (he-ayin... yang)
ה‎א‎                    . ה‎ע‎
        ח‎ע‎               .     אח                      .
and     (het-ayin)          and (het-alef)?
   the four dimensions of
laughter, that's what...
  in english: laughter is a direct article,
but the reason for laughing?
    it's an indirect article...
        i.e. ha in hebrew = the...
a direct article...
        but the reason for laughing?
it's wholly indirect, as in: a-,
   a-, without a reason, other than
                           a per se
                                    "reason";
**** me the giggles...
      atheism can only come
        as a seriousness
from allowing laughter to
reign over it...
             needing a logical argument
is a bit... yawn... yawn some more...
           yep, a- (and the hyphen)
means without...
   all those atheists championing
    logic, and reason,
to me? they're just amputees,
    limping along to the tune of
  1 + 1 = 2; even kant said so,
at the end of his critique in the chapter
transcendental methodology...
    i have no idea why pop atheists
cite kant as an atheist,
             given the fact that he wasn't;
it's too tiresome,
        even now, given modern atheism,
it would seem less tedious to go
to a church, and inact the catholic rites
of kneeling and what not...
   at least you had a chance to yawn...
atheistic arguments are beyond
ugly... you can't even seem to get a chance
to yawn, so irritating as they are;
going to a catholic school,
i remember getting an hour's worth
of detention, when i internalised
a yawn (i.e. yawning without opening
my mouth) during our father.

it's hardly a refreshing proposition,
never mind how Nietzsche
found the morning to be as such,
perhaps he retired early
each evening, to find the sort
of vigour, if not rigour,
to bind reading in the morning
as a sort of delicacy...
          seeing how tremendous
the act is, notably in a morning
transit, to work, on the tube,
doe-eyed and almost half asleep,
in the confines of a number
of such instances, beside myself,
it is no wonder that tabloid newspapers
are the the most numerous of all of
morning's literary digestion,
                   as such, personally,
it takes two coffees (cream 30%, sugar),
an empty stomach,
      and a sudoku puzzle being solved
before my eyes can begin
to concentrate on a claustrophobic
paragraph of a book...
                 in all of this,
    the sudoku puzzle does the most,
unlike an airy limitless suave of a poem,
esp. examples not burdened
by rhyme among other scholastic
identifiable techniques bound
to a rubric checklist...
         that **** paragraph,
       fudge packed sardine choked,
      sweltering scab irritation for
the morning eyes...
                    almost like throwing
pepper or sand into the same skull
socket burdens prior to a deserved rest
at night...
            which proves my point that
there really isn't anything "logical"    
   about a sudoku puzzle...
                 as ever, prior to the linear
cascade of a paragraph, with the odd chance
to skip a line by accident...
   spacial coordination,
       counting zebra lines in a herd,
to then count the number of zebras...
   and yet...
          an empty stomach
and two coffees are still necessary...
   as is taking a **** too...
        parallel in all of this:
   30% cream makes a coffee the donkey's
(or dog's) *******...
          ...if only to make a quip
                   about lactose intolerance...
sadly, there is none,
        unlike cranberry juice and periods.

- hitch -
or hatch: a hiker...
counter galaxy.

a terrible case of springtime phlegm...
****... perhaps there's a Japanese ideogram...
oh... look... there is...
痰 (タン) - TAN...
i was thinking... un-protected ***?
row row ahoy... no pirate ships ahoy?!
for every ideogram...
in Japanese... borrowing from the Chinese...
you can find a work-around wording...
symbols that translate into sounds...
ah...
         how... becoming...
the evil of this world is never
at a loss.... it's merely stalled...
   the good is always overcome...
subjected to...
                   i twitch my head...
what ******* waking of a dragon...
the dragon has uncoiled since
overtly-exaggerating Pearl Harbour...
but... that was military vs. military...
Hiroshima?! Nagasaki?
that's... military vs. civilians?! no?!
i side with the ****...
why... Godzilla: for starters...
why bemoan just warfare?!
oh right... just... the Holocaust is
our narrative... but... drop a NUKE
just in case... ******* WANKEES...
       oh... i'll wait...
now that "things" are getting spicy...
it's better than... Nietzsche advocating
for the 20th century...
my turn...
               they were... 6 million Polacks...
secondly: given the alias of Hebrew...
but... as far as Hebrew go...
can't trust them in keeping
an allegiance for their host nation...
ergo?
      
- Today is history. Today will be remembered. Years from now the young will ask with wonder about this day. Today is history and you are part of it. Six hundred years ago, when elsewhere they were footing the blame for the Black Death, Casimir the Great - so called - told the Jews they could come to Krakow. They came. They trundled their belongings into the city. They settled. They took hold. They prospered in business, science, education, the arts. With nothing they came and with nothing they flourished. For six centuries there has been a Jewish Krakow. By this evening those six centuries will be a rumor. They never happened. Today is history. -

Amon Goeth

as unlikely an alliance as it might be struck by...
a person of reasonable intelligence...
there, are, quiet, simply... some...
boundaries... that... are... not... to be...
crossed... before... crossing them... entertains...
vile... powers...
   and these... boundaries...
have been... crossed...
   CHAOS!
              CHAOS!
              why? for... the fun of it...
simply... for the whimsical... oops...
oh ****... history happened...
                   now bite... *****: now bite:
later chew...
               something terrible happened?
sure... a lot of people have been left
unaccounted for...
while all the Nazis were placed under
scrutiny of the Nuremberg Trials...
seems... rather... unfair... don't you think?!
yeah, sure... the victor ride the wave
of the narrative...
**** them, whatever... just let me die
a second time before i clock in:
(like) i (might) give a ****.

how do i approach this....
there's so much ego is also useful for
when i use it
to no cognitive narrative fudge
but instead restrain it:
then put my idle hands to work:
my devilish hands
of idle measure:

i feel so organic having mentioned
eating raw pork
to ingest a tapeworm
and become the Overlord or Zenir of Dune
without sandworms:
with earthworms:
peering into the earth
to find more than serpents:
i've become of serpents
i don't need serpents anymore
to play Loki:
i need Chopin and Boris Brejcha
at Nimes...

Tour de France: we'll get to that in a minute:
i'm clarifying time:

i own a viking bicycle:
how much?
£125
works like a woman
very impressive
a thing can be a woman
my viking road bicycle
green green greed green
envy comes: later...
she's like a woman
and i'm riding her into the distance:

autobiography:
someone set off fireworks in my neighborhood
last night and it spread like wildfire
into the night on social media blah blah

rubric necessary:
if drinking a mixer
smoke some in the garden, wait for stars
to keep their constellations
and without a telescope or a microscope:
catch an insect in your eye
while cycling
Tour de Havering:
from Rise Park
to hmm... Raphael's Park
vicinity
Gidea Park...

            the joy of having watched
the tour de france on t.v.: i
didn't watch it... beside stage 21
while playing Solitaire and reading
newspapers:
but the sports commentary:
imagine what football is: zombie religion...
a place
where people drink and make fantasies of
Nation-States in the globalized world:
globalized = atomized...
the globalized non-states
with their atomized non-individuals...

blink of an eye is equivalent to
0.001 sec?
and the chances of a symbiosis gone wrong
an insect...
lower status creature:
i want to summon the TAPEWORMS
and the *****
into my digestive stomach:
time, for, the, serpent, to, become, the, tree!

Y tongue ADAM and EVE
DEVIL WEDS THEM BEFORE GOD
with tongue of Y and a tree to:
ah! jeez bliss: blitzkrieg bliss!
famous athletes around me:

ATHLETICS is the MOTHER
of all SPORTS...
what is philosophy if not a sport in the dead
humanities... CIRCUS MAXIMUS ABSTRACT'
that T' is a hidden acute above an I which makes it
an E...

a blink of the eye takes
0.001 seconds:
long before i compound the vowels with consonant:
in Japanese that's:
unique: ONE
them: feminine in Polish one: them(f)
them: masculine in Polish oni: them(m)
and how much the predicament of an insect
flying into my eye:
i have such AIRWORMS that found peace
in my body happy as long as the eyes can see
the liver the brain
is of no importance:
the eyes remain:
there are only eyes:
a body without eyes is no body:
a blind man has eyes
ergo a blind man isn't blind
but ALTER-SEEING...
coordinator:
one thing you learn from Crowd Control
being invested in theoretical chemistry
way beyond youth:
is:
that:
you:
can:
claim:
that:
people are like all the elements and none at
the same time:
collectively people are water and earth
individually people are like air and fire:
airy fairy words, promises: ancient Satanic:
which is: i'm the new child..
promises like lies
what are truths and beliefs
within the contention that beliefs are lying-truths...

my father knew i would be up to something
creative
and he did all the chores around the house
while i planted these two replacements for
roses:
the names of flowers always alludes me:
i need a woman
because i need to have noun gratification:
i basically need a woman for nouns
since i am a verb
a woman is a noun
while a man is a verb:
a woman is a vowel
a man is a consonant...

       will "we": still talk about pronoun
"confusion"?
too much pie?!
assassination attempt post-survivalist "face"
emoji:

                  ?           !
                      
ah ****: forgot the nostrils and spacing....
for the leftover ear:
so perfectly so i should have bet on Fortune
Chance:
the gods meet humans in the Arena of Chance:
not somehow Sport
impossible for the Gods to play Gamble
in Athletics:
but gods try these anti-gods
anti-demigods
riches in housing illegal migrants...
in hotels in Clacton-on-Sewage...

one blink of an eye: 0.002 seconds
chance an insect flying into your eyes:
0.0019:
but there are parasites already
residing in my eye: s:
i can see them... they are microscopic:
i needed a telescope:
i received the ROAMING STARS
the Catholics told me ugly truths:
i once said:
i cannot hear silence:
that's demonic now i'm half-paralysis
in perfect mode
having a twirl
a buzz and buzz fresh off the frenzy of BIG
BANGS...
i'm hearing the bangs with the LITTLE SOUNDS
well... concerning the list of other
BIG BANGS: like children talking
something they need a GOD to adhere to having
been so "dead" for so long...
i think i'm not Nietzsche:

big bang: the alphabet?
the sports are: underrepresented:
that's why football is the deep state state: "state"...
don't know:
a sport is a sport is a sport
when it retains the CLASS of literacy
being sponsored:
sharing of wealth:
the rich spend on the sporty:
not the intellectual: i guess...
this is not ACADEMIC... classed as:

so much of my ego like
an angry 13 year old girl about me not about me:
i can't believe the inherent
ontological disability of men
simply because that disability is god:
whether god or gods:
how we feel all organic
but feed of all things inorganic:
how we summoned eternity with
the grit of stone and how we paid
due currency of constipated espionage:
caressing the stone with:
philosopher's envy:
if water is time
then for man to retain his eternal
presence
set forth clinging to stones:
sinking in the water of time
making himself eternal:

physicist! if you truly want to learn:
learn!
become hyper-space indulgent
and detached become
Vibration rather than Music...
Music is Music:
Intellect is a Vibration...
          Reason is the Vibrating...

Intellect is a Vibration
while Reason is the Vibrating...

crowd control: West Ham... post-athletics
Hugo is missing
Hugo is missing...
CONTROL is not informed:
but Romeo Beta is
by Romeo 5...

    create a meaning of:
the River is to a Sea...
not an ocean: just a sea:
a sea of people:
not an ocean of people...
just a sea of people..
there are: gradations of category:
the imperative being:
beyond good and evil:
that's what Neitzsche alluded to:
the categorical imperative
does not quest to reason good above
evil and the knowledge
encompassed in telling
the difference:
in that:
evil = good =evil
good = evil = good

how does man's discovery of rigid dues
of gravity and the *******
project of quantum ***** and giggles:
but in the court...
when man passes laws and forgets
to update them:
maybe A.I> should update our *******
laziness!

the only reason why i gave Leopold the Lydon
Scousser:the bottle of whiskey:
i didn't have to thank him:
NVQ level 3 i was **** fudge packaging
my ego into the
lost beyond lost child
sort of REGRESS... analogy...
but the subject matter was so intellectually dry
i thought about:
hanging, prostitutes: tapeworms:
Amsterdam: Paris: woods nearby: magic
mushrooms:
tapeworms: air-worms in the eyes:
light-worms: something symbiotic
after... after... ha ha!
i've lived through TWO ASSASSINATION attempts...
once when i was a toddler
and almost suffocated
on being fed too fast...
another when i was 21...
but i can also remember two others...
yes... being drawn into a well:
in the middle of nowhere...
being pushed into it by the mother of my
childhood friend: Herbert: i think:
i need a woman for nouns
a woman is a banknote for nouns
while the man is the coinage for verbs...

feminism will,
not govern,
the male, intellect:
within:
her:
as a study: of:
under-achievements:
of: still:
giving: good: head!
but feminism!
will!
not! become!
         Platonism!
will not become!
Aristotelian!
will not become
the Romantic!
will not become SAURON'S Ring!
one thought movement
to quell them all:
feminism = platonism = chriatianity = islam...

blah ha ha!
woman! woman!
get a, *******: wheelchair!
slow down!
ride horses! break a neck:
slow down!
slow! slow! slow! sleeeeeeeuuuuth!

don't get me wrong:
sport:
under representation: as talked by a ******:
asbestos: non non...
then music become a deterioration:
decay: distraction:
you want to escape without the fatigue:
after all: mood changes
but most writers can't keep a hard-on
for ego+ through to ego-
which is somewhere between ego=
and ego_
                      
then the silence and no loss procrastinating:
allowance: wink winks:
the representative perfect:
Turkish barbers and Synthia:
you forgot the macarroni
maccaroni
macarroni
                ah: third time oucky: some add L
to replace the O:
well you know: wonders of counter-reality
profit-idiot-nouns...

           but sport is seriously under-represented:
sport as sport:
a recreation to counter the pathological necrosis
of procreation:
which is also adamantly slow to
be discovered as a covert topic point...

   athletics... the mother of all sports:
like mathematics is the mother of knowledge...
1 + 2 = 3
simple life = mother + can be:
can be: any woman can replace
a man's mother:
if: she can: progress to the provisions of
detachment sensibilities...
a relationship of growth
is brought about by:
the impeding stress of: detachment...
from? well if
i'm contemplating tapeworms and Dune
and magic mushrooms and field trips into the spirit
world...
then i write that and then reality replies:
random cycling new streets mostly haven
suburbia...
detour 1, 2, 4, 5, 3...
hey, mind wandering:
i might be cycling in the tour de frace
but i still love cycling... at least my bicycle
won't be stolen
but then again those expensive bicycles
were stolen from people who had no interest
in cycling:
they just wanted to pretend
to look like:
i love cycling: i hate cycling...
i used to spend £30 a week on cigarettes...
i'm bulging: i wanted to weigh 99kg
i'm bulging up to 105kg
almost unconsciously...
different high viz jacket
and i'm just gaining weight: need to manage
crowd: some ****... another shirt...
can't flex my manly **** like some
don't know whether i can stomach
an actual physical: let's get to know each
other a little bit better, hmm?
   i will hate that circumcised *******
resurrecting mummified bodies sort of ***...

until i restore the high
but the music would have been all:
ill...

Wimbledon, the Euro finals...
concerts in between:
and to think i'm thinking the what IF
and the IF dimension of
even she said:
but i live on a island (Kauai:
origins volcano mythology)
that has roughly 60,--0-:
60,-
60,000 people:
you are part of a team that manages:
venues: with 90000 people...

            and i'm such a good cook and cleaning
lady and me holy TARMAC seriously
that is how the sexes identify when the world
changes and the sexes have to evolve
to compete for complimenting each other?
i feel we reached the highest
escapade:
the sexes compliment
rather than compete:
i work a ****** job: but an engaging:
conflicting: i get to compliment my writings escapades
but at the time confiscate the weirdos
from the whirlpool of body: of man...

Tadek: Tadeusz: Pogačar...
the mythology of the sport that is the Tour
is unlike the insomnia patterned
seasonal:
i wasn't really watching:
i was merely listening!
sure from time to i watch the drone swoon
in like a hawk:
but this is a different sport
a pristine sport
sport without politics:
since ARENA sports
beside the athletic is a humanity's coping
mechanism for discussing in
short-hand the concepts
of RELIGION and of POLITICS...
it's discussed in the most democratic of fashions...
democracy is absolute in the Coliseum...
the church needs to be abandoned...
in all, and every:
country: of this world...

the Coliseum speaks: the Parliament: Listens!
the King and the Lords
are thereof: Absolved of their Dutiful Stature:
and Status:
the Courts and the Laws will be absolved
in their Former Formality of Authority: Recognized:
and the Rule of Man will be: PROMPTLY:
INSTIGATED:
a man will know that association of
ill will was his own gravity:
and will not blame others: for gravitating toward good:
the Rule of Man will
govern both the Rule of Law and
the Godly Dietary Neurotic Propaganda...
the PIG will be venerated in the same psy
pogrom of wind-farming bias...
the pig will be the new ram
the pig will turn into a:
the French were once the BOARS
now they're the cockerels..

       the French were once the BOARS...
now they're the cockerels...
you can tell: sniff it:
the scent of sweetened ******* with
the friction counter literature:

i do see parasites in my vision:
not my eyes:

but how could it possibly be:
that certain sports have empowered people
to supplement themselves
with the REALITY of being involved
whereas church and parliament are
just: majestic, impartial:
status de facto quo
IMPOTENT
Bureucratic (dyslexia, perhaps,
sounds different to the spelling, too many vowels)
bue:row-cratic...
                       the Coliseum: the Parliament:
the Church... and how does Russia operate?
the Church: the Monarch: War...

                                       at least he know how
to contain war: with the gift of Vespasian...
Vespasian's gift:

ah!
now: more clearly:
however i write it, it will be "chiral":

the Gift of Vespasian : Vespasian's Gift...

definite article, noun, preposition, noun
noun: possessive-no-plural article (of noun), noun...
yes: other replicas...
but the original: and grandiose in / of intent:
unlike the Pyramids:
this like for what the Koreans worship
the birth of letters in one man
the abnormal X- have you another waver?
i.e. Sejong: the one man "**** show"...

            but Vespasian: mm hmm! to transcended
time!
what an ingenious structure:
should: church and state and parliament fail!
there's also this stalling process of
appeasing the crowd!
and that's when you see in the sea:
of people...
the intelligent ones: that are also the most
illogical:
the intelligent people are the most illogical
in large: crowd: environments:
whether your weekly football match
(a singled out event)
or **** Germany or the Weimer Rep...

              intelligent people are the most illogical
in a crowd...
they will conjure up all types of fakery
thinking their intelligence is somehow a virus
of proper genetic stashing of:
getting the best out of life:
which: by now: kinda looks like
a family of mother and ***** donor cwy...
            
          i should have remained a roofer with
my father and got a mortgage and a car
instead of working in security
and having the vantage point
of willing to write poetic without hope
for a Pulitzer prize...
instead... Glasgow: 2007... 2008:
first discovering Bukowski...
that crow poem and madmen...
i already knew Dostoyevsky but picked up
Kharamazov Bros as a side...

the drudgery of work?
  if i were a postman! mail'e'me'mail'e'me'mail'e'me!
mail'me'e'e! if i were a Yeshua!

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

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

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

the digraph of Æ: almost Katakana and Hi:

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

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

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

                 HÍ instead of HI!
also: HÍ = HI!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what is a cat is a cat is a foot in a sock
is a sock on a foot is a foot and sock
in a shoe
and there's walking involved:
or simply standing:
don't get me wrong:
but i "got" Knausgaard all wrong
when i tried to read him in English...
maybe it's just the same with Jon Fosse:
maybe English is an ungly language of translation
maybe English is something momentarily perfect
in an abstract:
i think of Septology like i think of
Doctor Faustus and Herr! mein mann!
my future bridge of bride to be
is weeping into the telephone and
i have no avenues of consoling her:
with all that Omine Patrii Catholic ******* litany:
i'm a lion sleeping on sheeps' cloth
and the sunlight is spectcular
like
like
it's almost orange: like the fruit...
but without the tecture o
full texture of the full:
ORBITAL...
       define orange... Frank O'Here.
O'There: Oh **** everywhere
defined orange as a bad... a "bad" colour...
once i needed a serprent and a garden
and i've watched so much *******:
i'm reduced to old father dragon:
a recluse salvation
of solo: a worm weaving its way around
a bookshelf...
i am that...
evil, i find, has become a subpar IQ testimony...
these rigid half **** wits
and
if i were to think of woman and the foetus
which
enlargers the prospects of the ******
birth
and if my mind was a womb:
my foetus: my my my.. not my foetus
would be the ego...
and well isn't that a welcome sunshine
for a sunrise to a parody like
all Norwegian writing is exemplar:
you strangulate the Poles from the POLANA...
you make them desecrate
the **** the grass...
like: who was that ***** that catapulted Samson's
ponytail along with the Mongol tribe who
only found out: figured out counting
by barraging Baghdad by sling
of dead head cope...
        i'm painting: with sounds: but i'm painting
without sounds being sounds...
it's not like i'm writing: ******* music...
i'm writing that what i think i think
might be: red...
         or orange.... or brown...
when my partner starts crying because her
samurai would be... was poisoned...
aparently cats have short memories...
but it breaks my heart in order to give me
two hearts: two lingos...
and two minds to match:
maybe Reyla... hmm.. impossible:
that sly ***** couldn't poach a ******* egg
but what if... suppositional dysfuynction...

but if i am the nothing womb of the birth of
ego... id aside...
i feel uneasy hearing what pain
is true and like... alike...
it makes me beg: to differ...
i hark i send snow and i even send the night
with all the frost, nail, bitterness of
the biting...
i juggle:

there was a concept of writing poetry and of music:
but that died with Nietzsche:
i think then i don't think:
then replace the medium of writing
like some journalistic cul de sac
and some ****** lackey
you ******* kidding me
i will burn this continent with thoughts
alone!
i will drive that ****-******* crucifix into
your **** whale-bone
you Kentucky fried IQ lost puck-puck-puck-ah!
you Jew herder!

enloghten the spirits they said:
so much for circumcision...
can't ******* **** into the toilet bowl:
can ye?!
oh but it's alright when males are circumcised
and leave bad hygiene habits in the toilets
for all else to see:
scrutiny of the *******:
or maybe... maybe that's like:
fried onion rings... more or less:
foreskins...
so fry: those... *******... foreskins!
make 'em TH chewy...
like porky pie ears and all
that deep fried gelatin unlike
the Scotch deep fried Mars bar
you ******* spandex in gravy lateral
navy oosh! you Scotach better
beg for my pardon!

    the sun          and her sons...
the moon: and her daughters...
no one preparers you make digestion of this
subterranean *******...
Norwegians tied to try:
if i couldn't stomach Knausgaard
in English:
i can't stomach Fosse in English:
sorry: not sorry: but boo hoo anyways
ghost Angevin...
           i'll ******* get that smirk of self-assurance
readied
for the torture chamber
and there will be not laughter there:
i'll just perfectly employ the *****
to the ******* device
and i'll itch with each
available scrutiny of pleasure:
to allow yourself to suffer...

        because that is my judgement
and all else:
a repetition of consequence(s).

brother, don't you think it strange:
how i whispered to you
before you decided to follow your demise...
how i implored you:
don't be so proud...
don't take it upon the Jewry don't
feed your own demise:
don't impose the crucifix upon others
don't be this Baron Dog Ache Bark...
look! who you have in your defence!
all these pride-riddled pawns
with little or no intelligence:
and that's not me being insulting to
the gravity of your thinking:
yet as a child i rebelled against your promises
of sado-masochism of turning
the other cheek:
i inherited the ontology of oculus per oculus:
an eye for an eye:
pride is not the issue concerning the intelligence
you suggested: but it's much much oh
much too hard to execute...
your proponents and adherents
are those believing proud
with flaky intelligence...
they don't really... understand the quake
of your demands...
i watched you in the shadows and the snow
and with tears i implored you:
don't... make the mistake of being
so proud as to assume you are my god
should i point you toward the Socratic method
of dialectics and thus...
the diacrtical method emerged:
yet you hanged upon your little sail-boat to
nowhere: and how i cried because
your intelligence couldn't fathom
the outlet of madness and that joy of spontaneity
instead your intelligence was pride
and order and adherence to the parody
of the ego-planet of your residing crown and
pinnacle of throne: as tortured: oh
dear child-christ: Lucifer embodied:
do you see your post-catholics and post-protestants
in America...
how they are so proud to defend you
but have no intellectual sinew,
muscle, fibrous eschew nothing!
but i told you! you would never lift this weight
of innocence all on your own...
you didn't listen...
so i stopped tempting you with agitations
of curbing your pride while celebrating
your intelligence:
you stopped listening to your intelligence
and instead listened to your pride:
which didn't mature to the letting go
of how Socrates died...
you had to serve the spoon, fork and knife
torture
and all those metaphors of cannibalism...
seriously...
is humanity truly the pinnacle of your
soppy life story?
are we all going to be these sorry Christ
sniffers
these vampire virgins
these ****-wits?
in the darkness i asked for light
and i didn't see much of it...
                        turn the other cheek?! no!
i will not turn the other cheek!
eye for an eye!
              that's not how law works...
purposively: cause and effect is the relativistic
Omega Libra...
       and the Omicron Iota Phi and Theta...
now fear the dark
now fear the spontaneity of justified clinging
to the last remnants of belief...
because i can't imagine you
as the Savior:
they say, those who believe...
oh Jesus oh Just Christ...
but Moses was more human and
less a Jew than you claim to have been
to be this Assyrian subjecting these people
to 2 thousand years of self-laceration
ultimately ending in the Holocaust:
i'm sorry... what who and why is anyone "sorry"?!
i don't believe in Christ
because i actually think he was
a somewhat arrogant intellect:
his intellect was pristine:
but he didn't service the purpose of intellect
in it being humbled... humming...
i don't believe in Jesus Christ
because as the covert noun-stressor bring about:
Lucifer?
but i am his brother:
my intellectual prowess didn't lead me to pride:
it led me to the circus chaos of how
better to play with the intellect:
my intellect would never dare to fathom
or guide humanity...
it would require me to entertain people...
i can't believe in Jesus Christ...
i believe in the colliseum of Ancient Rome...
i would never want to be so right
as to be so figuratively and unforgiveably
half-witted in being crucified...
what a half baked story!
what a ******* story!
no! that story is all bogus!
            who the **** thinks they are so right
so proud! that they remain silent!
how proud you stood the intellect!
to become crucified!
but you stood! and you were!
latern for all future worlds to come!
now i have to mop up your pitiable remains!
but he was so proud of his intellect:
like Nietzsche was proud of his...
but at least Nietzsche capsized
and drowned in madness...
                           Christ was a curious anti-Hebrew
******... Jesus Christ wasn't a Jew...
maybe an Assyrian most definitely a
******* Egyptian...
i don't believe in Christ like
an ordinary Jew doesn't have to believe
in Moses;
why would a dog believe in a bark
or a cat in a meow?!

Orphan Ontology (an obituary for father time & mother earth)


swap the snapping turtles for shadow puppets
it's Plato's cave all the way down

shimmering hexagonal revelations
stream through my Dimethyltryptamine daydream

out of my eyes unfurled the room
& then the world was birthed from my womb

faint as a whisper, yet haunting
a spectre lingers in the ether
heavy charcoal clouds hanging over me

under orange smoke, I pray
in dusty days of this drought-stricken
Eleusinian mystery  
where the flowers which you painted in the spring
have turned a pale shade of grey disarray

a black hole sun hovers where the superlunary
ought to be
& i find myself lost with insomnia
seeking aletheia on a polar night
stumbling around the thorny maze of my own creation
in the tattered pair of shoes
painted by Vincent van Gogh

in that little ice age
Nietzsche's demon spoke the cursed words
spelling out my Sisyphean eternal recurrence
to carry an acacia cyclops cross
sprawled across the breadth of my back
crafted by my clumsy hands
splintered & ****** as they deserve to be  
for letting you slip through
when my skies were still blue

AH...

  sigh...       what a glorious sigh...
that I: aye?! i... little i...

something about
Aristotles' poetic that i can't quiete grasp:

in the ancient world
the people didn't paint:
but they: sculpted...

imagine how i think:
testament of thinking per se:
i don't really
think...

         nothing doesn't think:
nothing is a pronoun,
in the category of words:

my my: my most devilish and i:
an isc on
a leash
i don't have the time to appropriate
invoke... invoke is a better word

i'm here to paint!
Aristotles' poetics clarified
the obliviousness of language
to a philosopher...

i'm here's to paint!
so i'll paint... by punctuation!
i'll paint by punctuation!
and...
each... and... every...
line break pillcrow will not be:
my last...

if Spinoza wrote his Treaties in Hell:
i'll...
go ahead...
nothing is a pronoun and it speaks
more than god speaks
ever... truly... listen to: nothing?

but women can give birth
and it feels weird
disclosing that Reyla is my daughter...
genetics and phonetics
and blah blah the intellectual apes
are public intellectuals!
Gremlins get off!
give me the Unity with my brothers
the Siech: Sicz: Cossack BRONE!

women give birth but are rarely
strangulated by nothing...
forget Nietzsche's work ethic
and boredom:
if pronouns is what..
touch wood...
whoops! i just touched iron and i looked
at it and you looked at it
and we both hoped it was wood:
but it was iron...

just like a golden ring looks great
on a black finger...
so must a silver ring and moon
look good on the finglet
of the pigglet pink in white
on a finger the moon: is mine! to answer!

madness madness!

   if... you... say... so...
i'm here to paint!
i'm here to conjure all the oyster
raw meat delicacies...
but people of the ancient world
didn't paint!
they sculpted!
now see the impasse
how smart the modern people are
and how dumb the ancient people were?
see how there's this definition of humanity
by:

memory-erasure...
we will: forget!
we will rememeber!
but we will also!
die!
forget!
we will die!
we will: forget!

and by forgetting we will
imagine!
because there are archetypes
of humanity
not reincarnated
but from all origins: an abiding
concern for narrative:
and dialogue:
and monologue...

i'm here to paint with
punctuation and diacritical markers
atop of letters...
but not today:
today i'm all chaos and storm
and the grain of porridge
and the distance of raindrops on
the window come the daft ghouls of the night:
oopsie: oopsie...

but i'm here baby'oh:
owl my woo and lunatic...
woe and luminiscence...
but i'm here baby oh...
      just this you're not my baby
baby O...
                      now comes the measure
and with enough atom bombs one
might content with volcanos...

                     Mt. Vistivius... or who
the tragedy of Pomepeii...
Christ was crucified...
a truthfuly historic presence...
an event to topple all other events?
i ask: in Heidegger's vein
to the artery....
Heidegger: question-worthiness...
Zeitgeist: news-worthiness...

     thought is a muddling puzzle
of philosophers and opportunistic hacks...
the ones genetically displaced...
but then only the lower IQ strata replicate:
and we need bus drivers....
what we don't want is
for the rupture...

           intellectuals agitating the public
with a historical-conscience...

WE ARE MANY:
who says who to whom in the great agitation?
this is not... painting?!
this... is... not... words as... painting?!
MILLWALL! MILLWALL!
the SCOTCH CONNECTION!
that one... part of London:
Elephant and Castle
that i love...           why did i decide
to support Millwall?
       oh...                 mate... just the south
London architecture... the feel of the place...
couldn't feel it closest to either
Arsenal, Tottenham of West Ham grounds...

SCHLUS! MACHTUNG!
ABERZ! ABERZ!
SCHNELL SCHNELL SCHNELL!

Tartan Jersey...
you already have the colouring:
Edrick the Navy....
deep blue and purple...

Truth can't be sealed
like a sardine-can
nor concealed
by any device of man

to no force would it yield
not even Nietzsche's Superman
no authority could keep it afield
it is its own master---it would never relent.

The 1st night: delirium...
just a spaz-o-me I made so many
faux pas impromptus
in the group's WhatsApp
that the owner, curiously only
sent the following reply: ???
the other days he would
just inquire without judging
my lingo quirky (my lingo quirky?
depends how you want
to express the same finite)...
2nd night was just a gearing up
for a plateau, third night
broke me... co wisi, nie utonie:
what hangs will not drown...
fatalistic and I think that's how
you can start to remedy
Nietzsche's angst...
if modernity is to be saved from
a lack of religious coherency
that works for the benefit of society
and society being an organism
and a city being a microcosm
of where the organic meets
the transformed inorganic...
truly... but wait... let me just get
my secular bible put and double check
the meaning of fatalism...
fatalism: hmm... I don't agree with
the premise that fatalism
is a stance of submissiveness -
in the vein of "argument"
it would be self-evident that Islam
is a variation on fatalism:
but submission is not in my focus
when I think about fatalism...
I'm thinking on the covert lines:
with coercive lineage to give...
to imbue the word with a new meaning
dissociated from the perceived-meaning
of submissiveness...
I implore fatalism as an attitude
to nihilism by giving it a meaning
best associated with the quality
of subversiveness... multiple tasks st
hand... the autistic 15 colt
lounging on the perimeter of
the premises I'm watching over:
where Hades becomes Cerberus:
Celt and the team Celtic:
no quits to **** a kaleigh without kilts:
garçon: ah the autocorrect spewed
a diacritical mark like a vowel
in Hebrew... I pity the English for
their love of classical music...
so far Friday is the best night of the week
to listen to Classic.fm
and I won't be a BBC RADIO 3 snob...
Jonathan Woss up to 9pm
then Sue Spencer on her own sort of
idiosyncratic wacky to Anractica
via Slovenia? The nuns did this to her...
I love the inverted voyeurism
the parodying the intact psychologism
of the radio that the t.v. just
cannot replicate...
given that the radio is audible
and not audio and visual...
you cannot forsake two senses...
next thing you know a t.v. will
not only provide a visual distraction
with the audible one
but also a scented ******* culinary trip...
but the radio is not a distraction
but a compliment, an accompiment
to a lo g shift (n)...

tonight I also discovered the potency
of Jamaican tonic wine... Magnum...
one label on the 200ml 16.5% read:
the name "tonic wine" does not imply
health giving or medicinal properties...
another label lists the following:
caffeine 12.0mg
iron 4.80mg
niacinamide 6.30mg
vitamin B2 1.20mg
vitamin B6 0.10mg
vitamin B12 0.48mcg...

hey, it's coming to 12am, I finish
this shift at 7am... then I'll refresh
my self, wash my ******* brush
my teeth, shave to preserve my beard's
shape...
solve the stale stink of armpits
put on a white shirt and a tie
and head to Wembley for another 12h
until 1am for the boxing match
between Joshua and Dubois...
duck's sake... I was initially booked
as a supervisor ringside with about
30 people under me...
instead I was rebooked as an external
quadrant manager...

mineral waters
bottling
Cisiowanka
Muszynianka
how many times of mineral waters
are sold in Poland?
Well in England
you have still and sparkling...
in Poland you have half-sparkling
mineral water...
Muszynianka is rich
and so different
with a magnesium-calcium complex...
water indeed has taste
when certain minerals are
either combined or there
was that trip to Bath with well...
**** water, high in sulphates,
volcanic remnants...
but bottling... the Magnum Tonic
wine is too sickly sweet to be drank
undiluted with sparkling mineral water...
and no it's not a conventional
wine, sour, so creating a kalimotxo
is a bad idea...

so say san pellegrino
is superior to a perrier...
subjective observation
based off of the label: no truth to it...
just a bias...
but... perrier is still sold
in glass bottles... while san pellegrino
is sold in plastic bottles...
milk used to be sold
in glass pint bottles
and I remember staying up at night
to get a whiff of the job
that was... being a milkman
driving an electric car before
this current supposed revolution
*******...
just like 40 years ago people
we're more green, more environmentally
conscious... glass like metal?
♾️ recycling potential: **** me d'uh!

just scrolling through the photographs
of all the classic.fm presenters
while contemplating the genius
of the English people
yet that forlorning of:
my my... no musical genius among them!
Elgar was not a musical genius,
Handel was not English
nor was Holst
and Vaughan Williams... well...
but for a people so appreciative of classical
music, it cries, the situation...
and with that vacuum came
all the pop sensibilities of the 20th century.

Thales, Aristotle, Plato
Hume, Nietzsche, Rousseau
Da Vinci, Pasteur, Newton
Einstein, Curie, Edison,

Mother Teresa or Yousafzai
Dante, Shakespeare and Rumi
Gandhi, Mandela, Jefferson
Ataturk, Churchill, Washington

Orwell, Freud, Aquinas
Hugo, Dostoyevsky and Marx
Lincoln, Martin Luther King
Galilei, Copernicus and Darwin,

And thousands of more names
Names with the righteous aims
Contributed the most to humanity
Suffering a great deal with dignity

If a poor-fellow, on the other hand
An honest believer, I understand
A Buddhist, Jew, Muslim or Christian
Or member of any other religion

Really thinks going to the same heaven
With the above ladies and gentlemen
By just breathing day in and day out
And thinking it’s enough to be devout

He either got the wrong impression
Or have a problem with discretion
Or else he must be thinking that
Judgment of God is fairly bad

I think there is a way out of this
Find what your true mission is
I know it’s neither money nor chair
A hint: Help, teach, devote and share

Complete it with sincerity
Caress your soul with integrity
Afterwards, even if there is no God
Trust me, you’ll still be on the safe side

They might at least put your name on
A suchlike poem written by someone
Otherwise you’re just a passerby
Producing nitrogen for both soil and sky

You said you were enthralled by the fire in my eyes when I spoke of my distrust of the government and their lies

You smiled that infectious smile of wonderment when I would randomly quote Kafka and Nietzsche, your eyes gave away your admiration whenever you’d watch me speak

You were the first to acknowledge how my mind outshone my beauty, you spoke incessantly about how you’d never met anyone quite like me

And then you left.

I take nothing seriously (as an old man) these days
myself--the least-have had too much of my own nonsense- hark!
nothing is certain, only the lacuna perennial--everything is in a flux
life, happenings and people add to one big question mark--

yet, I'm enamoured of this 'things are not
what they are or seem'--- the door to exploring is before me
that exultant feeling of being free in action and mind
the 'open sesame' to a brand-new mental territory--

in a pensive mood---in unguarded moments
I don't quite know what's the ideal thing to be
forget Einstein,  Shakespeare, Socrates, Wittgenstein
Newton, Goethe, Tolstoy, Sartre, Kant, Nietzsche, Keats, Shelley

they do me no good and my doubts they don't assuage
it's the searing existential 'the world and me'-
despite  the mocking mirage, , the clouded bleakness
the sneer that life exudes, I don't despair as I am free!

Friedrich Nietzsche in Turin
The Italians call him The Saint
T-shirt in the Irish bar
A saint is what I ain't

We speak beside the pool
She is blonde and Polish
Her husband plays soccer
Charlotte quietly

The Europeans are more civilized
But at risk from Mother Russia
I'd like to take 12 trains
2033

Don't listen to Bach
Never play Chopin
ACDC a rockin' band
In Dublin meant to be?

         Vive Amelie!

and when Qais blacked out after a sporadic
moment of "malnutrition"
on a Ramadan bout of "purification":
o.k.: i get the medieval insistence
on the practice, esp given the desert environment
but now: it almost feels like
a stance: albeit i know, i know: it's not that
but in this other kind of desert
of concrete, jungle, concrete:

            anyways: apparently he was calling
me for me or he imagined
i was the face he saw... but i was: "miles" away
yet...
   so it's not even about being "re" educated
when it comes to foreign cultures, peoples,
i'm not going to write **** poetic immigrant
ballads about not fitting in:

as i told: let's call him Richard...
a West Indian: although Indian is hardly
a way to describe...
so now collaborative effort on both parties
involved...
a sensitive topic, considering the bleaching
of history
and how i love Heidegger and his obsession
with historiology:
his, is a writing: filled with allusive -
let's say metaphor-morphing:
i love how he understand his own writing
and the reader: is not supposed to:
like Nietzsche predicted:
the German ethos of idiosyncratic
endeavor:
       even in Thuringia they were spelling
out to the English hooligans
a "welcome home" party slogans

          because Brexit happened because
the Polish plumbers got the better of them:
so i was telling "Richard":
there was once a "thing" called a:
protestant work ethic...
which is not to admit to drinking too much
alcohol on the job...
or the night prior:
           even i don't do that...
but there was such a "thing"...
even...                                          now...
but Brexit happened because
the Slavs "invaded" Europe: or were merely:
neighborly: brotherly: well, apparent: **** that!

so the Empire imploded
and there was no Hippy Regeneration
no Trail of Cid and Acid
and multi-color versat: versing: shortening:
quickened: equipping...

Qais... 21... such a tenderness in man:
wants to bulk up... Hulk mode...
weighing in at 90kg...
give it time, Qais, gravity and time...
by the time you're 40 you'll put on weight
some of it will be useless
like the grudge i now have for cycling
is...

                     just ******* impossible to
deviate from...
i want to canoe, ******* paddle...
then i saw a glimpse of evolution
in the origins of the Polynesian people
a glimpse a ***** a blink
a Thai wink
in this: "brute": and it coincided with:
well thanks for the olives (and skin)
but where did you get your HASEL:
not hustle: HUSSEL? no, not Husserl...
hassle... ah: hassle not hassel:

glum eat the vowel: 'sle not fish netting
'sel
                by what date? sell by?
well...
                    DAHOMEY & ASHANTI

perfectly honest: i don't understand why
these English folk put up with
Sudanese Ahmed(s)
who s.p.e.l.l. out the stink of India
and Israeli skunk bombs
with terms like: NOT ABORIGINAL
but native and PUNK is butter is cute
is like: nothing rebellion against
the tectonic status quo of people
like water constantly: constant "being" born
and "being" dead...
like this preserved instance
in a format of a democratic fashion
exemplified with: squandering the use
of these idle tools of communication:

my grandfather Joseph would be proud
i hate being told
like no other ****** would be told
just endeared with "mr trouble"
but the moment i give Qais
a ******* 10min runner ahead
to catch the train i'm involved with
c.c.t.v. paranoia like the "almighty"
control room doesn't see how
i do my verk...
    
       because that's how shifts go
and how people get all ******* friendly
at work: then start whatsapp groups
and try doubly friendly to be
boss ***** and poor poor pooh bears
and that's just ******* disgusting
i'm not in high school but: there's the yard

one bourbon two bourbons
the kingdom of Burgundy and that was
me ******* into the cup of wine
to spike the aging fruit of garden
and Jerusalem
feeding me happy thoughts...
because new serpent arrived
without an apple but a morphed bunch
of grapes and some fudge packing
**** into bread
resurrected on the crucifix

at least i know that Islam is a religion
for men
and i can't be doing with this
hijacking of words with images
that culminated in emoticons under
the banner of Christianity:
i think i'm smarter than to have to adhere
to Christianity
this religion that's zenith came without
but with the Exodus into Dust of Auschwitz...
and clearly: no one panicked
or picked up on the slaughter
since so much was "achieved" given
the numbers...
now i will clearly spot a few Watermelons
gleeful in my scribble and:
no matter...

              i stopped admiring the American
intellectual English this is just my
Lingua of the commerce of ideas some will
go no further than the sputnik of ****
i flush down the toilet
while jerking off over a could-be Madonna
such a pretty face
but such ugly **** and stomach cramps
when reaching ****** with multiple dudes
and ******

*** some amphetamine vitamin numbing...

i'm still so bummed out about
getting a Green Day t-shirt
from the shift...

do you know your enemy...
do you know your enemy...

sad story about Qais: 21... already
traumatized by women
had a girlfriend and a *******
but still a ******:
was accused of ****
the girl wasn't a ****** but probably
wanted a notch on her girth:
hardly a belt... smacker: push a plum
into a piece of bread:
but him: unwilling became a HASHTAG
memorandum of: dangerous loop...

origins of ****** dynamic failure:
too many drugs now i'm
waiting for the death of the last Holocaust
survivor like i'm waiting
for the last instigator of the 1960s revolution...
when Paul "the pauper don" McCartney
and McCarthy are but recycled newspaper
click-baits: i'll go swimming with the alias:
skinny: for naked...

       i think i might just feel fine: then...
until then:
Qais... i don't suppose i can recommend
you an objective-affection for loss of sentiment
for emotions when having ***:
with prostitutes?

     but why the **** do people speak to me
so openly
then i remember those little ****** and little *****
bothered about social hierarchies and
climbing ranks
and i'm reminded by the demeaning language
they use concerning the roles
they once filled and it's so ****
sad
makes me want to think about being
a garbage man or a poet:
apparently a Swiss entrepreneur would know
how to understand what poet is these
days: a LOSER or NOT a fifty shades
of grey scribbler:            but that's just fine
i'm sort of happy not having
to laugh out loud into his face...

it's a slow burn sort of erosion type of
happiness...

          but i will never "feel" English among
Englishmen and i will never "think"
to be Polish among the Polacks - the John
Lackland luster of history:
sold a land for paupers and Gypsies...
and then bold: behold: bowed and blew
into split grass shafts for lack of proper flutes...

so demeaning that i didn't learn
how to whistle by putting *******
into my mouth:
but sure as **** i managed to teach myself
how to regurgitate doing the same
and whenever overeating
i will resort to a now perfected reflex
of the oesophagus: BLURP BURP BLAH...

but i still feel suffocated by:
well who knows who's right side of a WHIM
i will wake up on and what
sort of SPASTIC MR FANTASTIC
SUPERDYSLEXICMENSCH
will find my writing and achieve a realization
dynamo of: OFFENCE OFFENCE!

i believe that: if the Chinese government
and the Moscow Mongols
are not after my skin:
any attack from the Western Echo Ethos
is more likely to give this feeble dream
of democracy and freedom:
otherwise pandering to the loud-mouth cripples:
even i have to queue even
i have to commute but SPEZIAL TREATS
for SPAZ is like: glory to god the sun is shining
on four wheels and aubergines
contortions in cubism... alive...

because: just because: someone had no
******* clue about the dangers of ***
so they had *** anyway...
sitting in a brothel contemplating STDs...
perplexed: so how come i haven't had any?
personal hygiene?
that's a good start...
            maybe i'm more of a cat or a dog
and i'm sort of able to lick my *******...
although i can't:
but maybe i'm just surrounded by these horrors
and find myself imbecilic
not having to deal with such instances
of being accused of ****...

              so there was Walt Whitman
and i'm dry on pride:
just don't have the stomach of being forcefed
a sexuality
my own is distraught by the distance
from London to Kauai
and i'm not about to go "hunting" for some
fertile 20 year old
just bored of the conversation
just not: having one...

                 the ****** revolution (supposed,
"revolution") brought nothing but
a deepening of: anti-resolve to the revolving
glitter of moon and earth around
a star of many
                       and i'm... not about to start:
but happy to know that other people
will breed indefinitely in grey
to the matter of fact of: like everyone
might need a plumber or a bus driver some
day: like tomorrow...

as long as "we" persuade all those nurses
to stop dancing and making TikTok videos
miming sirens...
                          even writing this: *****.

i was once told: children & animals like you, a sign of being a good person - but here i am, going around with the axiom that can be found at the opening of Dostoevsky's the Karamazov Brothers lent from Faust: who are you? i am of that power that forever will evil & eternally works good... my modus operandi... i can't think of myself as benevolent: for benevolence i implore myself to find it spontaneously, on a whim... i adore the frivolity of chance & the 8 winds... in this realm of orbs in orbit: that imploded... when the stars explode... another favorite quote of mine... to angels - vision of god's throne... to insects: sensual lust...

from time to time my mother gets a visit from
a manicurist / pedicurist...
i was informed prior that she was coming
round with a friend of hers...
Ilona... i never have luck with women's names...
that she's breaking up with her husband,
living in England she built up a taste for some
exotica: if he wasn't black he must have have been
Indian... one child already: so i asked -
back to the orthodoxy of a schnitzel,
some beta-buck deluxe...
thank god i'm not making much money,
thank god i don't like having too much money
to spend, thank god i rather walk into Bower Wood
or Havering County Park... leaving Havering-atte-Bower
& emerging somewhere near Hainault or Chigwell Row...
i was to be scrutinised...
so i was... apparently she fancied a Scandinavian
physiognomy... do i have a Scandinavian physiognomy?
well... accents of leftover blonde...
moustache / what trim of hair below the lower lip...
soul patch...
i put on some vinyl...
wooden shjips 5... then some miles davis: kind of blue...
then maanam's night patrol...
standout tracks: love is like *****
& Krakowski spleen...
but i wasn't expecting to be a ******* nanny...
lucky me for being as cool as a cucumber
in the presence of 4 women...
sitting in front of about 7 prostitutes in a brothel...
well... gives you ***** like watermelons...
we talked about our adoration for Scots...
come new years eve these isles are awash
with lyrics of a Scot: aud lang syne...
i bemoaned that the Scots don't really speak
their language... oh sure... on the islands...
but they care much for the trilled-R rummaging
in accent than actual: language...
do the Scots have a concept of etymology?
even though the Welsh are ***-licking or rather:
licking the end of a stick with their union
with the English: they have this blind obedience
of keeping their language... why did the Scots
just focus on how differently they speak English?
great... what an accent! highlanders: singing...

4 women... the running joke started:
maybe you should start a nanny service...
since one was only 11 months old...
pulling faces... peering into those soulless eyes...
regrets? oh hell no...
i pushed the narrative: what's really different
between tending to children "vs." petting cats...
less fur... but as much unpredictability:
perhaps more with infants than cats...
one extreme: cats...
in the middle infants... somewhere a muzzle,
a leash: the dog...
we're not talking about rearing cows or
jiggling around cannibalistic chickens...

could i be a father? all toddlers look "androgynous":
just like all old people look the same...
well, "not the same": but there is a common thread...
it takes much time, much patience,
a lot of time spent not being coupled to a unit
that's beside the individual,
pulling faces... sticking out the tongue,
rummaging with raised eyebrows...
rereading Morse + Braille...
perhaps i have a regret...
not being able to see a little Frankenstein passed down...
accents of my features mingled with a mother...

ocean of free time (maanam) -
the children of strangers...
sitting in my lap...
intuitively she asked me for food: when she was hungry...
jesc... i'm pretty sure she said that word...
and how gloriously she expressed when she
started to feel tired... but couldn't fathom
the automation of impeding sleep...
she rebelled against sleep for a while...
she wanted to be awake... sleep finally conquered her...

Nietzsche: the tender hands of a cyclops....
black Madonna, black angel...
***** after *****: the head in smoke...
alcohol is flowing...
czarna Madonna, czarna aniol...

like the ancients Roman Caesars...
who were very willing to raise children not
of their own seed...
i can imagine myself being a stepfather...
i can... having frequented a brothel one can
fathom the promiscuity of women & allow it
to happen on the sly...
i just want enough silence & freedom
to read a ******* newspaper...
spend an hour typing... listen to music
utilizing headphones...
****-off into the night, watch the constellations...

obviously the finger she used for searching for
teeth in her own mouth ended up on my lips...
the beard finally arrived at the proper right
of fascination as she started to tug & pull at it...

lion...
          patriarch... but we're talking about
the relations between complete strangers...
my mother was getting a manicure & a pedicure...
i was a nanny for a 11 month babe... bambino...
then the thought: oh ****...
but what happens when they become
individuals... they learn to speak...
when you can't influence them?
when freedom overpowers freedom?
when you're no longer left with the sort of stagnation
impasse of petting animals?
what happens when thought arrives
& orientates counter to your original investment?

other peoples' children are fun:
for the spare hour, for the afternoon...
because there's the toddler...
or the clouds... or imaginary backgammon or chess
peering into a brick wall...
i don't know why animals & children like me...
come to think of it...
all the Medusa ugliness of sensuality...
great... sure... fun...
but i also have to...
   having a ******* in my arms...
having a toddler on my lap...
having my beard pulled....
            like only an uncoordinated shell of a future
being that's receptive...
receptive to the one dimensionality of
meaning,
the two dimensionality of exchange
& the three dimensionality of nuance...
metaphors, metaphysics... puns...

she started to mimic me clucking...
making onomatopoeias while fidgeting in my lap...
before i gave her a bottle of milk,
covered her with cushions
all prior to her hour's worth of snooze...
it would be so painful to have a bambino of my own...
i'd sooner gauge out my own eyes
than see the immediacy of the accents of
my genes being passed down...
i'd abhor seeing her or, him, make worse mistakes
than i have made...
fun when they're still blank slates...
cat-esque...
but not when they begin their adventure into
the realm of autonomy...

eh... not so bad with cats:
some ref. to a "stagnation" or...
how Kierkegaard posited: the changelessness of god...
itchy fingers though... this awkward little ****** body
the softness of her hair
so little of it... caressed to ease falling asleep...
the frown arrived at from tiredness....
i know, honey-bear... that you're tired...

what a Frankenstein i could possibly spawn,
the architecture of what's to become the supposed
holy grail of the sovereign individual...
best kept to bambinos of strangers...
not my own:
to think that i might **** up someone with my own
idiosyncrasies...
there's a freedom associated with tending to
responsibilities...
but there's also enough freedom available
when tending to having a Pontius Pilate approach...
i wash my hand clean of the tumult of impeding
affairs...

reading Rousseau for the first time: for the flirt...
somehow... it was impeding...
hanging like Damocles' sword...
or Ockham's razor...

i still don't recognise Warsaw as the capital of
Poland... maybe i should...
there's only Cracow:
i "think" that i come from "somewhere":
arguments... etymological faux pas antics...
Slavic derives the word Slave...
last time i heard: Slowo: word...
to be a wordsmith... but i can forgive
the Anglo-Saxons... because i can...
they still shy away from someone deriving
an ethnicity akin to... an Anglo-Slav...
irritating little addition of E?

γράφω σε Ελληνικά?
any better?
of all the languages that Latin loaned...
"loaned"... arrived at...
English... the only tongue without
orthographic distinctions...
the French have their acute E...
the Ninyo of the Spaniard's N...
lazy ******* *****... but i love them for their:
laziness...

there's this quote concerning
Charles Dickens' the Pickwick Papers...
the tragedy comes having read it...
great! i'll make sure to never finish reading it!
i'll read some books "on the side"...
Charles, though: makes this point about
orthography... surely to mention orthography
you need to employ diacritical markers...
you don't employ them...
orthography becomes a ****-show meaning
of what's otherwise excused with:
oh... he's dyslexic...
it's just a spelling mistake...
not that you might require an "extra" tau in words
like: fatter... better... but... it just looks
geometrically adequate...
"excess" consonant... Germanic tongues concerning
a Slavic tongue...
too many ******* vowels...
you Latin lend-overs...i raed: i red... i reed...
come on... savvy up...

there's no discussion... pop, mainstream is going one
way... but the under-currency of argument
is finding... the sea... the tidal wave...
the many veins of rivers...
nein!    nein!             nein mohr!
genug!                               mohr!

verlassen lassen mich sein!
   und nein! ich: ja!

come to "think" of it...
my mother would make a...
terrible grandmother...
my mother would make a *******
terrible grandmother...
thank god i don't...
i didn't allow my genes a pass...
i couldn't...
allow my genes to pass....
it hurt my heart...
when i learned that...
women were the only ones
who acknowledged a past...
she could keep her mother,
her father...
while the man had to erase his
past...
o.k. *******...
*******!
          
no.... butter i... *****-load...
pretty woman... pretty guess...
i'm not buying into the "idea":
sorry, *******...
my mother, is somehow...
less... than... a mother-in-law?
******* woman... **** this supposed
guise of existence...
now i have the power:
dodo power... i get to:
keep up with the blisters....
man-up... man-****-off!
i#'ll eat your whittle white nights.

a demonic silence and calm preserves this place
i call home:
today i was recovering from working
at the AC/DC gig at Wembley: henchman man:
wager man... wagey...
such pivotal hierarchies in the high viz
community outside of the construction industry:
human chess
it would seem: is the end result
of this working dynamic...

                   i'd call it my dream period but it's
more or less my nostalgic impromptu
retrospection thinking of myself writing in my mid-20s
but i really can't see:
in the classical period music was innovative:
it inspired philosophers such as Nietzsche
but these days i can't say: much about music...
it became an art form relegated to the piles
of dung of Beelzebub's ****** archiving of important
matters:
a total messy ******* he is...

            coughed up whiskey into my nose
which was a sobering experience
like a Pakistani girl
telling out in full claustrophobic no personal
space antic of taking a lift
imploring me to stand in front of her
imploring me to smell my skin and my ***
and my love to block out
someone else's bad personal hygiene...
and then i said: well: like nicotine
like caffeine: a whiff of ammonia: a chemical salt
or acid
          someone's poor personal hygiene can
become a stimulant: especially if you add to that
the torrential rain:

but my dry period?
i was young and not boring enough:
so i'd pick up a book and take out a snippet
and work with that:
i suppose i could rehash that youthful distress
by picking up
Ulysses - i don't remember any of it:






                                                      / /

nothing: nothing comes to mind...
         so when music used to be innovative in the infancy
now hardly irrelevant
but AC/DC are not an innovative band
if say: Deep Purple and Led Zeppelin were...
or god forbid someone take up the Q of Pink "barber" Floyd
because that's not Nirvana relevant?

i guess music of the 20th century
might require someone listening to classical and reflecting:

weird antics for the closure of a day
and it's impeding reopening after a nap
circa 8pm through to 12am
in the day made perfect timing to
send off a Taylor Swift t-shirt:
medium... almost a large:
regardless: she wanted to have it scented with me
so i rubbed the early stink from lying
in bed first...
then walked around in it...
then took a shower:
didn't use deodorant (but squeezed some in
when i finished packing the package
to get the plastic smell out...
the air around the item)
i rubbed myself cleaner than mirror versus
the glass
in i guess: if i can remember:
was a honeycomb and macadamia nuts
soap...
          then i washed my hair with Argan oil
infusion...
and beard too: ah: maybe the shampoo was
the macadamia nuts infusion
and the soap was just the honeycomb infusion...

but no deodorant on the body:
just into the back...

friendship bands
and me playing with my mother's makeup drawer
while writing her a letter
some little nothing something perhaps sweet
and to think i'm suited to a Christian girl
and i'm supposedly this Catholic
which is supposedly a novelty in America
like J.F.K was a novel Catholic
in the land of Protests and hyper-inflated individualism
that's so fake it beggars-belief...

Soup, joint and sweet. Never know whose
thoughts you're chewing. Then who'd wash up
all the plates and forks? Might be all feeding on
tabloids that time. Teeth getting worse and worse.

J. J. Ulysses page 217 reprinted Penguin classic 2000

as i said: innovative: music once was
no longer so and
it's a shame that those who wrote music are
more alive than some people
who are alive and haven't been gifted with
much: but as in that Dead Can Dance song
about great men:
Solomon, Caesar, Socrates... and there is a third:
how fortunate the man with none...
how fortunate that no one should remember

but even then what's that to life: expected...
if anything: a kind surprise to an otherwise unwarranted
***** of the hope...
some higher demand the everyday expectation
to the materialistic grit (spoken like a true
teenager)...
but just so: my riches are in books and in music
records:
at least one painting of my own:
a sitter in Grey
by Candlelight...
a sword from the forest i called my Cossack
SHASHKA...
              
           just a breaking of a night within night
to tip over the scales of time from day x
to day y
                      by nocturnal musings:
    having signed the Last Will of my parents
i am now the inheritor de facto
of this house and garden:
it's almost comical when
Joe stood before me at cordon 6
wearing a Quadrant Supervisor bib and
almost gesticulating at:
well: why haven't you been promoted?
well: who gives a ****
it's a wash-a-hand-hand-washing-hand
not nepotism but quasi-nepotism
of the family breakdown and making new friends
in the playground
so children are growing up my lord
but the elementary
and the pedagogy remains the same:
perhaps if with children you can pretend
to be an adult with responsibilities
when when in psychiatry you pretend to be a god
because that's not me saying:
Prometheus my Guide:
but at least you have to pretend to be a god
since god is so abstract
and that's what people required other people to
become: in just the verb and noun orientation
of this delicate ballet...
not by any stretch of imagining grandiosity
not in any way profound
there's the nearing of the bad grammar god
and his fetish is pronouns
and being a Dyslexic his favorite demonic ****
is at the pulpit of a pseudo-Protestant
i.e. Protestantism against itself:
dying off without a Catholic antagonist since that
path deviated and found root
in the life now enjoyed by the Spanish, French,
Italians, Pollacks...

                         i could mention the Irish but is there
a point of mentioning the Irish as Catholics
and not simply as the Irish:
the sublime masochists... which the Pollacks can't be
but what's horrible about us is
a Catholic Work Ethos that we don't share
with anyone: beside the Irish: in that span of rubric:

Spanish
French
Italians
Porto-Geese (easier, i'm not going to spell it correctly)...

ah... jeez: what a Chopin's nocturnes sort of
night:
it's blessedly raining outside and it feels like
the proper July:
did i forget to mention that there's a lesson
in geography to be had, right about now?

it bothered me: the English mentality
concerning Eastern Europe:
Poland is Central Europe with Germany
you ******* PLEB...
deafness and more deafness: no intellectual music
no conversation:
just innocent bystanders: collateral ditto virus...
geography bothered me in the lexicon:
is that common speech of man? hmm:
gonna get myself a Jane Austen tattoo...
not on my skin: but on the silk
bothered by the wind
itching inside my mind like no other caged ego
to thought or being:
just ego-nothing
beside what is already available
with i-think and i'm-not: i-am...

                           familialism: something
borrowed from Anti-Oedipus: i don't understand
the French intellect so well:
please can i gravitate towards German High Intellect
with some dabbing in Scandinavian:
everyday-ism?

   the French have a freakish morbid intellect
bent on destruction and painting with language:
i don't want to paint when i write...
i want to abstract: find solutions:
complications:
impasses...
              facts: i don't want to find bad grammar
and a chemistry lab
of boorish wordings overtly hyphenated into
compounds like di-hydroxy-carbonate blah blah...

who is the real psychotic?
i have no knowledge of a Spanish intellect...
Italian maybe with Machiavelli but
that's irrelevant:
Giuseppe Belli:     (o.k. **** me, shoot me
my youth was greatly invoked to age beyond
my peers because of Dante: *******
and yeah yeah ******* twice
because i had Horace and Ovid in my life)

inzomma, da la predica de jjeri,
ggira che tt'ariggira, in concrusione
venissimo a ccapi cche sso mmisteri...

      just look how Latin devolved...
to sign language and spitting
and eyes darting and foundations
like Rome and the Italians is an observational
view point of a mountain range
some weirdly anthropological
no people discovered or conquered
so aboriginal blah
i mean: just looking at the language
that's Italian: that used to be Latin:
it's a bit like looking at the Polynesians
originally from Taiwan:
perhaps they didn't gain height
rowing all that time no sight of horses
but they bulked up
and i can see something Oriental about
them with the exception of their tailoring
to a darker color of skin: complexion...

bad Latin to come:

in brevi, et ex sermon nos accepit
summa summarum,
                          idiom: say how it is... to:
            obtusis-lingua-acuere:
blunt tongue sharpening...
               videtur: mysterium est mysterium...

perhaps that's the non-authoritative
variation on Latin:
certainly not Italian: or what happened
when Germanic blood of the Lombard
achieved the fold to the Razor and Papacy:
the Pope a Drowning Man...

that lesson in geography:
well... whenever listening to a meteorological
dial-up
with a person in the luminary of a quasi-fire
that's the t.v. screen:
believe me in 100 years what will
the t.v. beside a fireplace
a radio and then what will internet access be

i'm listening to my favorite nocturne:
i've currently digested:
47 minutes:

nocturne in B♭minor op 9 no 1
     "         "   " minor op 9 no 2
and the list goes on and on
but i'm too lazy to type each song out...
but it would look pretty:
i gather there's that aesthetic concern
and if i wanted to spend years
on art
i'd become a grave sculptor...
not some celebrated Rodin bound
to the museum:
CENTAUR and the Urmahlullu...

in some there's this tease toward anticipating
Wagner's Das Reihngold: the entry
of the gods into Valhalla:

         like we all know the play on Les Mars

♯C
#****

       ah! subliminal! HELMHOLTZ! HELMHOLTZ!
just like
Les Marseillas... apparently a right wing
revival, non?
but instead a Fringe Red seeking majority?
i did say: Serenity Red:
not simply - but the left was becoming
constipated communicative-ly: all lively...

number: first: 1812:
ah yes: Tchaikovsky and the Polish Plumbers
Orchestra...
some Dostojnie: Igrzyska:
  
               geography!
England is part of Scandinavia!
England: Scotland:
Ireland:
this is not Western Europe!
this is Scandinavian Territory!
if Poland is Eastern Europe:
collectively...
blah Ukraine blah Czechia
blah Lithuania and not Russia
blah Romania
and blah some more maybe even Greek
and Turkish:
forget Serbia Croat

but England is Scandinavia:
it's not WESTERN EUROPE:
what is western Europe but an Atlantis
figment of the imagination
if Germany is Central Europe
and Poland too
have to look at the planet from sunrise
have to rotate the planet into
vertigo mode horizontal....
not some meteorological Chinese script
the westerners read weather
at X Greenwich
and Y equator: Kenya:
Z? the winds and casual tornadoes?

  England is Scandinavia
in temperament and feels:
                   it's not Western Europe:
there never was: beside
as the bad apple export to America...
Scandi to the north
while the also northern bunch
finding recliners and cheaper weather:
the Goths via the Spaniards
and the Berbers
toward Argentina...

               then again to a waltz:
still a nocturne waltz...

                       but that piece with
the reverbretating insinuation of the piano
working as a bass guitar...
not the waltz no 7 in c (sharp) minor
op 64,2

                absolved from the hierarchy of cultures:
that Germany transliterated
away from a superiority complex
of ethnocentrism of white via white versus:
such heightened exploration dynamic:
peace to mind: a piece of:
the langui: a **** in boots and a freakish:
i don't event want to remember
dreams...

         if no longer ethnocentric then cocktails
in Berlin with a hyper-inflation
of race mixing like
it couldn't be a sand story:
this new Dune
not a desert
but a "jungle" of Concrete:
this Nedu:
        planet of sand without wind
this concrete grey
this fudge packing:
this also glass and mirror and mannequin...
this planet we live on
i give a name:

           Nedu.
        formerly called Earth:
              Nē̆dû has spoken and spoke at its
crux of nadir: thus.

As the wind blows

I knew of a man who could see the wind
As it came in from the sea, a mass of air
Bluer than the sky and he also knew when
it ended getting paler and blowing like
a zephyr inland.
There is always a wind blowing
somewhere on the planet this to circulate
the air we breathe to make it light and clean
and free of pollution and methane gas
of cows in Holland.
Sail ships needed the wind to trade
Overseas and to explore new continents
Now we have windmills that circulate air
But otherwise are an eyesore, a blot
On the landscape.
If you are in doubt ask Nietzsche.

**** me... i used to listen to a lot of reggae back in the day
when i was an adamant marijuana smoker...
****... it was cheaper than drinking...
i used to listen to Collie Buddz... Damian Marley...
Stephen Marley... Israel Vibration, Culture...
           ***** and the Maytals... etc., etc.,
then i started drinking: back to basics...
blues... jazz... classical music... well... "basics"
i.e. birch trees... given that birch trees are the scouts
of the botanical kingdom of trees...

you know that feeling when someone who loves
you looks at you...
when you get up, lazily... at 6pm...
they have this stare: what the **** just happened?
it's tectonic...
did you **** someone?!
   there's that awkward silence...
eyes all darting... what did you do?!
ha ha: funny funny...

i had to check the amount i drank last night:
it wasn't that much...

what did i do that was so terrible? horrendous?
i made someone fall in love with me...
the most heavenly-forbidden deed...
i heard the words: i love you...
and that was that...
    
   personally? i think that i'm still dreaming...

i knew the night wouldn't come to the conclusions
i wrote about in when Cedilla met Caron...
i was walking to a bus-stop when a ****-****
started to irritate me... oops... almost...
****... now i need to find a public toilet...
pub... double ****: i'm carrying a bottle of homemade
wine with me... bouncers... they're going to confiscate it...

so i approach a... Camille? ****... that's a girl's name...
Collin... let's call him Collin...
because i asked and told him: i want this bottle back...
it's a gift...
   so he gladly took it and told me: be sitting for you
in the staff quarters...
ordered half a pint of Guinness...
drank it in under 4 seconds...
     maybe under 3 seconds...
         for some reason i was suddenly thirsty...

right... like "****-break" in American Pie
i went to the toilets and started to arrange toilet paper around
the toilet seat... sat down on the throne of thrones
and eased out a **** that also had some **** shrapnel...
like my Russian girlfriend used to call me...

eh... in ****** it's called a KLEX...
when you **** and spontaneously **** yourself...
because you don't know whether you're merely
farting or if there's some shrapnel ****...
in Russian? KAKASHKA... i.e. little ****...
i won't utilise Mother Cyrillic on this word...

came out sort of relieved...
about something beside the cleared ****...
ordered another half a pint of Guinness
and drank is in a 3 second glug-glug-glug...
even two days prior some Argentinian
asked me: how do the English down their pints
of beer so quickly?
i didn't tell him that i'm a neu-Albian...
an Anglo-Slav... does it matter?
     i told him... you pretend to breathe through
your nose: even though you're not...
and you relax your throat like
you're about to **** on a 12" *****...
hey presto! you down a pint!
but you never really down a pint...
you down half-pints...

i get to Goodmayes and buy a 35cl of brandy...
walk down shady streets...
me? there are no "no-go-zones" in London...
i must have mentioned it before...
i feel... nauseated when i visit Warsaw...
i'm like: i'm the of the same ethnic crop...
never mind the racial element...
oops... puke...
           i'm not used to being a minority where
there's currently no majority...
i feel sick... i don't have a fear of heights
but just before an event... when Wembley stadium
is empty: i feel dizzy... what the **** am i looking
at? a massive erected crater of what could have
been a meteor strike...

yeah... night started off so well...
i took out £200... i knew i was paying
    for an hour... £10 entry...
at the pub while i downed my half-pints
in between taking a ****... i spotted some colts spotting
me spotting them back... mirror? ladies?!
no no... i'm not here for the over-confident girls...
i'm... PREDATOR...
i'm looking for a wounded creature...
like all predators: not in some sick mruder-fetish
sort of way... just the obvious way...
minimal effort... maximum result...

just like Don Juan managed to ****** a nun,
i'm the antithesis of a Don Juan:
i managed to ****** a *******
to **** me outside the brothel
and in a hotel room...

so here i go... what's the best hotel in Barking?!
what will i bring?! Prosecco? strawberries?!
lingerie?! maybe i'll bring my ******* mother too...
ha ha...
     but if she's willing to **** me outside
of the brothel: for free...
she told me... call me Sunday... i have Monday
and Tuesday off...
i'll be waiting... i'll even cycle to Barking
to book the room... good... sound-proof...
sure... we'll probably go for dinner...
but i'll still be there to simply **** the ego
out of her cogito... so she becomes the fulfilment
of her own sum...

i was painting the fence today... a colour somewhat...
teasing auburn....
but also teasing the richness of oak...
one slap of the ***.. two slaps of the ***...
the kissing of the mandible parts:
elbows, knees, jaw...
a decent amount of slapping: to check the rigour
of and the tenderness of ****-cheeks
and the thighs... pinching... biting...
are you raw meat?!

*** is so important: **** relationships!
i'm only here for the ***...
i managed to become 2kgh leaner ...
breaking a habit of rhythm...
that's the deal breaker... the previous owner
if a ****** charged me £20 extra
for being allowed to perform oral *** on her...

you want to create a culture of people
being over-sexualised? because that common
excuse is still dangling like Damocles' sword?
a ******* chandelier of hanging violins?!

i took my chance... she didn't start off the *******
with performing oral *** on me...
i was readied and governing...
in between changing rhythm...
i dived down and... well...

i'm of the school of thought that prescribes
the motto: it's more pleasurable to give pleasure
than to receive it...
i have good "arguments"...

i like performing oral *** on a woman's "oyster" /
"sushi" than i might prefer getting a blow-job...
why? thighs! the 3D of highs... surrounded
by all the tenderness...
       women are oh so ****...
                me go loco... me is loco...
even she said: you're the right type of mad...
i love you...
             i love her too... i just teased her with:
a good **** and a like: you...

oral *** with a woman is the ultimate
deal-breaker...
the way she might grab your hair... tug you:
pull you... in a way that...
you "confuse" your tongue with your nose...
i like blow-jobs in reverse...
my god... i love  watching...
women... in ******-spasms...
forcing you to stop...
          
         then i'm kneeling...
before her...

hmm... confusion from yesterday...
some wanton English lass...

right... so i walk out of the brothel with a walking stick,
metaphorical, if course....
i'm all ******* wobbly..

******* English women...
you leave the bus, you shout: AH-HU! into the night
like an Orc... what happens?
she gets frightened... calls the police...
the police car shows up...
you're just walking from...splendour...
you just witnessed in a brothel..

what happened? you were just returning a favour....
i told her: don't worry...
my little Richard is being lazy...
sure... apply as much lubricant as you want....
it's not going to work... timing:
i'm turned off...
there's that element of stress...
but... as hse cleaned herself and as i cleaned
myself: are you happy?

she seemed happy...
i can pay for an extra gram of *******...
but ******* is limbo-land when it comes
to pharmaceuticals...
give me 500mg of Naproxen
and we're talking banana boats...

how many times did she see me? i asked her...
4 times...
i was biting her nose...
how many times did she see me?
once... how many times did i **** her?
4 times...
i thought i'd never return to performing ***
on a woman's.., "Wilfred": floral pattern...
scooping an oyster...

personally?! i loved the eye-contact...
gripping her thighs... her entire pelvis that was
readily "eaten"... her *******...
her arms.... teasing her *******...
slurped seconds?! who cares...
mind you... an Irish boy with a name
like an Irish girl was chatting to me:
thought i was of the Oxbridge stock...
i was somehow a "reporter":
so i asked him: wheere's my hidden canera?

he was ingesting laughing gas like mad....
he even asked me... do you...
have a... B'AH-LOON?!
do i have a balloon?
  i enforced giggling on him since
the chemical wasn't doing him much good....

i was the suspect "journalist": paranoid people...
paranoid paddies...
i ventured to begin with kissing her knees...
her elbows... her feet...

i am: going to have the second schism of Islam:
spearheaded by the Turks...
whether i'm alive: or dead...

she tells you she loves you...
oh **** me...
you only just performed your... nostalgia for licking
****...
my god... i love licking *******...
licking... *******... female genitals...
she tells me... i'll call you Sunday...
you book a hotel room for either Monday
or Tuesday...

she... actually... shivered! i mean: she...
shivered!
**** me... when i'm good: i'm good...
when i'm ****: i know i'm ****...
but when i'm good...
i eat with my eyes
and look with my mouth...
it's always better to eat with two eyes
and look with only one mouth...
esp. when it comes to female *****...
i love ******* on those things...
i regress towards oysters...
the way a woman will insinuate:
waggle your tongue... suckle...
"poach"... i don't even know but if she
insinuates: "poach"! you... ahem...
"poach"...

Sunday should be fun... is she free for
a Monday's worth of night or relaxing ***?
or is that a Tuesday?!
seriously though: her **** tasted of big-pharmaceuticals:
within the lineage of *******...
i'm used to dropping pills... but the extra oyster
factor...
oh man... i love performing oral *** on a woman...
i love *****... i dip my nose into thr "humus"
and all is well... with the world...

RA!
    AH HA! RAWL!
AH HA! RAQ

because you eat ***** so well...
she starts playing with your hair...
nudging your nose
to a close proximity to your tongue...

eyes eye           eyes eyes,,,,

eyes       eyes

eyes                       O0O0O0O0O....

really? a hotel room?
based on,
the suckling i
managed to perform?

well.... if she's happy: i'm happy too!
underlined: a woman that has been properly ******
and a woman that has been properly fed...
third quest of the equation...
now's the time to impregnate her...

and if he's not in the "mood"? **** her
all the more...
        a woman doesn't need to be the suggested
truth of Nietzsche...
she just needs to be a woman...
a woman is a woman is a woman is a woman...
parallel the truth is the truth is the truth...
neither truly actually interact, proper...

i interact with a woman on an intimate basis
i'm sick for about 3 days...
i ingest all these unnecessary biases...

i told her when going limb
as she tried to reward me with a blow-job...
we met 4x times...
     of the 3x...
   she rewarded me...
this time? i wanted to reciprocate our ***...
i wanted to please her: which i did...
30 minutes more...
as she started to perform oral *** on me:
god almighty...
i wanted to wet my beard a second time...
forage for mushrooms... slip my lips into
a **** of the totality of oysters...

i kept thinking about eating flowers...
when a woman: just like that...
mein gott!
she grabs your hair and grips it and tugs
and... she wants to replace
your little Richard with your nose and
your tongue...
i'm good crazy... i'm good crazy...

all that inner tenders between the tenderness
of the thighs...
this... altar of the feet...
i could... really: could: un-imagine
the creation of the mermaids!

The righteous empire of America
Is wrong and bound to fall
I hang out at the bookstore
Watch some basketball

Friedrich Nietzsche today
And a little Johnny Cash
Spring and summer rolls
The beauty of her ***

America is ignorance
But also Susan Meek
Also Alex Nava
Also hide and seek

I take the long term view
I wait and walk and wonder
In the cemetery
I hear the rolling thunder

                 Martin

I have a picture of a postcard that I posted years ago from a holiday destination just to show that I had been there, but it never got to the intended, no! it ended up in undelivered items.

That's when life ******, it really let me down, the postcard and the postage cost me nearly half a crown.

We exist as if we're behind bars
some read Nietzsche
some burn bra's
some get ****** and drive
fast cars
but we end up in the same cell
and lights out is the living hell,

and the picture of the postcard that
I posted years ago
is carried with me daily
but
it's really just for show,